Whispers in the Village

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Grandad wagged a finger at her. ‘It’s old Fitch what pays your wages, remember that. He won’t bat an eyelid when he sacks you for allowing it, and we’d all be homeless to boot. Remember that, my girl.’ Grandad hobbled off, thanking his lucky stars his stick hadn’t broken in half with Mr Fitch’s treatment of it. He laughed at the memory of Mr Fitch chasing Paddy. Hell, but the man had a temper.

  As for Paddy, he sat in the wheelbarrow, his back resting against the potting shed wall, eating his lunch and thinking. He sensed that old Fitch had had just as bad a start in life as he had. That was why he was so dead against people stealing from him; it was because he knew both sides of the equation. But to think of the success he’d made of his life. Well, well. Something to keep in mind. Still, pity about the bulbs. That chap with the garden stall in Culworth market would be waiting for him in his van down the drive this lunchtime, but he’d have to wait. Pity too about those figures at the rectory. Better apologize about them. Keep Anna sweet.

  As for Craddock Fitch he was thankful to sit back and let his chauffeur tackle the driving. It wasn’t often the two of them talked. After hours in the car every week together they’d run out of conversation some time ago. This morning, however, it was the chauffeur who opened the conversation. ‘Did you know, Mr Fitch, that Paddy Cleary is living with the new rector?’

  Craddock, allowing himself time to calm down after that sprint round the hothouses, sat upright, shocked and disbelieving. ‘There’s living and there’s living, Spencer. Which do you mean?’

  ‘I mean what they’ve all started to say, that he’s living with her. Dropped a hint in the pub the other night and, of course, as you can imagine, it got picked up pretty damn quick.’ Spencer stared straight ahead at the road and blanked Craddock when he asked Spencer what exactly Paddy had said. Craddock asked him again.

  Spencer carefully phrased his reply. He didn’t want his boss to know that Paddy had said it directly to himself, still less did he want old Fitch chasing him round the hothouses wielding a stick. ‘What exactly did he say, sir? Don’t know, sir, it was about fourth-hand when it got to me.’

  Craddock wished he’d actually hit Paddy with Greenwood’s stick, brought it down right across his shoulders and his head, good and hard. Rumours like this snowballed till everyone knew and then they all believed it. He got his mobile phone from his briefcase and dialled the rectory. While he waited for his call to be answered, he wished with his whole heart that it would be Peter answering it, but of course it wasn’t.

  ‘Turnham Malpas rectory. Anna Sanderson speaking.’

  ‘Anna! Good morning. Craddock Fitch here. I’ve just heard some gossip about you and I think you ought to know. They’re saying in the village that Paddy Cleary is living with you. I mean really living, as in live-in-lover.’ He left a pause, didn’t get an answer, so continued, ‘It needs scotching straight away, it’s very damaging gossip. Don’t know how, but scotch it otherwise it’ll be at the Abbey before nightfall, and the balloon will go up.’ Still no reply. ‘It’s not true, obviously, but it still needs dealing with, as of now. Good morning to you. Sorry to be giving you such bad news.’

  Anna put down the receiver, sick at heart.

  Chapter 11

  Sheila Bissett heard the rumour while talking to Greta Jones by the tinned soups in the Store. Clipboard in hand – she was never without it at the moment – Sheila was shaking her head as Greta was saying, ‘… so he told my Vince, when Vince was in the pub lunchtime Sunday, that he was sleeping in Peter and Caroline’s bed. Those were his very words. With a nod and a wink, too, and a nudge with his elbow, which spoke volumes.’

  ‘No! I can’t believe it. She wouldn’t now, would she? Honestly.’

  ‘Well, that’s what he said. I said to Vince, “You must be going deaf.” But he said, “I’m neither deaf nor daft”, that’s what he said. And he isn’t, except when there’s a job to do in the house and I need help. But that’s a man all over.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t believe it. That Paddy and Anna? No, never. Why, he isn’t even attractive, is he?’

  ‘He’s got something about him though. He can’t half make you laugh.’

  ‘Laugh yes, but … no, no.’ Sheila shook her head. ‘There’s one thing for certain – he wouldn’t get me in his bed.’

  ‘He wouldn’t want you!’

  ‘Nor you come to that!’

  They both had to laugh.

  Sheila, who was eager to press on with the prime reason for her existence at the moment, said, ‘I’m organizing collecting tins for Culworth next Saturday week for all those people who’re going to dye their hair. Market day and that. Loads of people about. Thought we’d have an onslaught in Culworth and get some extra money in. The more the better. They’ve all heard about the pyjama party and the scandal afterwards, so we’ve kind of got our foot in the door. Invade the place, rattle the tins, just for a couple of hours, start off in the market. We’ll make an impact with our dyed hair, don’t you think? Can I count you in?’

  ‘You can, seeing as I’m the organizer of it. Good idea. A week Saturday, yes, absolutely. I’d enjoy that.’

  Sheila made a note on the appropriate page on her clipboard. ‘Gilbert’s doing some placard things for us to take. He is a dear, when he’s so busy. He’s skinny-dipping too. Bless him. Two hundred and twenty pounds he’s been sponsored for at the office, would you believe.’

  ‘Your Louise. Saw her the other day. Hasn’t long to go?’

  ‘Due February, March time, she’s not sure, so there’s a good while yet.’

  ‘Oh! She looked sooner than that. Not looking too good either, I thought. Before she’s always been blooming all the time, but she looked ill. Maybe she’d had a bad night with the children. It happens.’

  ‘I’m a bit worried about her, actually. You know that she’s never had sickness before. Right down in the mouth with it. I’ll call round to see her today, just to check. So you’re on the bus. That’s twelve going, with you and Vince.’

  ‘You dyeing yours?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Remember. Morning bus, week Saturday.’

  ‘Right. Vince and me’ll be there. Must press on, my dinner hour was over five minutes ago. Whoops! Here he is. Just coming, Mr Charter-Plackett,’ she called loudly. ‘Needed a word about the New Hope Fund with Sheila.’ Under her breath she said, ‘Slave-driver. He’d have been right handy with a whip in them Roman times, he would. See yer.’

  The news about the scandal at the rectory spread like some insidious disease, not just around Turnham Malpas but Little Derehams and Penny Fawcett, too. No one believed it, but they had to because why would he say it if it wasn’t true? What possible gain would he get from it? Nothing except derision and disgust. So, it must be true. But him in the rector’s bed! And, as Sylvia reminded them, sleeping in Caroline’s lovely bed linen. Something had to be done about it.

  Ralph shouldered the responsibility and was at the rectory door first thing the very next morning. He didn’t relish his self-imposed task but had to for the sake of the village.

  Anna opened the door to him and she stood there looking distraught. Instead of her normally welcoming smile and her eagerness to invite visitors in to the house, she waited for him to speak.

  ‘I’m sorry, Anna, obviously you’ve heard the rumours. Can I come in and we’ll have a talk?’

  ‘Yes.’ She moved away from the door and made enough space for him to step into the hall. Instead of taking him into the sitting room, however, she gestured towards the study. Somehow she hoped that the strong vibes she felt Peter had left behind in the study might help her through the worst. ‘I’d offer you a coffee but I’ve just had my breakfast.’

  ‘So have I. But thanks for the offer. Now, my dear, tell me all.’ He sat on the sofa close to the desk, expecting that she would sit in the desk chair, but she joined him on the sofa. ‘Now, start at the beginning. How does Paddy Cleary come to be living here?’

  Anna detaile
d the whole story to Ralph and then said by way of explanation. ‘You see, it’s very easy for the clergy to deal with the converted, the willing, the nice ones and ignore the rest, but surely it’s the rest we should be dealing with? They’re the ones who need help. So thinking like that, I took Paddy under my wing. When I had to move here it seemed a golden opportunity to give him a real helping hand. Not just words, but action. Now I realize he’s beginning to take over. I’ve had a fight with him about where he sleeps, insisting he’s upstairs in the attic while I sleep in Beth’s bedroom. To me it wouldn’t be right to use Peter’s bed, but he wanted to sleep there and I threatened to throw him out if he did. I won that battle but it’s the little things. Always being in charge of what we watch on the TV. Not that I see much of it but when I do I like to watch different things from him. The choice is never mine. And he doesn’t help domestically, just expects me to do it all. Cooking, washing, that kind of thing. Maybe I’m getting it all out of proportion but I do know why he’s spreading this malicious rumour.’

  ‘You do? He hasn’t …’ Ralph took her hand between his and held it firmly.

  ‘No, of course not. He stole four of Caroline’s Staffordshire figures and sold them in Culworth, but I guessed where he might have sold them and I got them back. So basically he’s getting at me because of that. Mainly. I think.’

  ‘I see.’ Ralph released her hand. ‘I see. Is he doing a good job at the Big House?’

  ‘He pretends he doesn’t like it, but he’s never stuck at a job for as long as two days never mind four weeks. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  ‘Good. I like the sound of that. I have an idea. Now he’s earning money he could pay his way.’

  ‘He could, but I’m still waiting.’

  Ralph raised an eyebrow. ‘Expects you to keep him, too. Mmm. I think I know someone who would take him as a lodger. I’m sure Mrs Jones would have him and would be able to knock him into shape. Since her boys left home she’s had no one to care for except for Vince and he doesn’t want mothering at all. Someone to mother is what she needs, you know. Might be just what he needs, too.

  They sat together, each thinking their own thoughts, and then Ralph stood up. ‘He’d have to pay her, but if she can’t keep him in order no one can. Leave it with me.’

  ‘I’d be so grateful. You, of all people, know that we’re not … you know …’

  ‘Don’t fret, my dear. It’s all happened out of the generosity of your spirit, and no one can criticize you for that. It’s mean-minded people causing the trouble. Believe me, I’ll have this sorted before the day is out.’ He took her hand in his and gripped it tightly. ‘You’re a lovely young woman and I mustn’t stand by and see your reputation in ruins. Trust me. I’ll see myself out.’

  As Ralph set off for the Village Store he phrased and rephrased the words he would use to reach Greta Jones’s heart. It wouldn’t be easy; his diplomatic skills would be tried to their limits.

  Jimbo was delighted to see him. ‘My word, Ralph, it’s not often we see you in here. Now what’s your pleasure? A few slices of my home-baked ham? More of your special cigars? Muriel’s favourite chocolates?’

  ‘None of those, Jimbo. I’ve just been at the rectory—’

  ‘Ah!’ Jimbo interrupted him. ‘Sorting out the nasty rumours, then?’

  ‘You’ve heard?’

  ‘Who hasn’t? The news flew round the village with the speed of light.’

  ‘It isn’t true, you know.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Nothing would surprise me these days.’

  ‘Jimbo! That’s just not fair. The girl has a generous heart and it’s all turned nasty on her. She isn’t at fault, believe me.’

  Jimbo eyed Ralph a little sceptically and it angered Ralph.

  ‘I’m not pleased about the modernization of the services, but on this count the rumours are quite untrue. I’ve set myself the task of putting a stop to it. As of now. So may I have a word with Greta Jones?’

  ‘You may indeed. Good luck.’ Jimbo smiled ruefully at Ralph but he ignored it. He had a mission and was determined to achieve his goals.

  ‘Why, Sir Ralph! This is a pleasure.’ Mrs Jones stood up, blushing with surprise, and all of a dither.

  ‘Mrs Jones, or may I call you Greta?’

  ‘Well, you’ve known me long enough so I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Good. Do sit down, Greta. I’ve come on a mission and think that you’re the only person in the village I could ask.’

  He sat on the chair favoured by Jimbo when he and Greta were in discussion. ‘I have a problem and when I considered how to solve it I thought: Now, Greta is used to young men, having had three of her own, and she’s got empty rooms now her Terry and Kenny are out in Canada and Barry’s married. Have you ever thought of taking a gentleman lodger?’

  Greta flushed even redder. A lodger. The money would be mighty handy now Vince was retired.

  ‘He’s had a bad time as a boy and needs, well, he needs mothering. Where he’s staying at the moment it’s causing trouble and reflecting on the one who’s taken him in. Now how about it? You’d be doing him a good turn, in fact, the whole village a good turn.’

  In a flash Mrs Jones guessed who it was. And him thieving like there was no tomorrow. ‘You mean that Paddy Cleary?’

  ‘Er … well … yes, I do. He needs a guiding hand, you see. As I said, mothering really, that’s what he needs. Because he’s never been mothered. He doesn’t realize it but he does.’

  ‘I’d have to ask Vince. You’re moving him because of the rumours? They’re not true, then? Or are they true and that’s why you’re moving him?’

  ‘Absolutely not. It’s plainly obvious. She wouldn’t find him attractive, would she, a charming young woman like her.’

  Greta had to say it, bold though she was. ‘She’s soon convinced you, Sir Ralph. Not two minutes since you were blazing mad about her changes in the church.’

  ‘I know. But I was wrong, I should have said nothing. Her heart’s in the right place, you see. Now, what do you think?’

  Greta spent a moment pleating the frill round her apron, which was something she did at times of pressure. ‘He could come for his tea and I’d show him the bedroom and that. But he’d have to pay. I can’t afford—’

  ‘Naturally he’d pay. He’s earning up at the Big House so why shouldn’t he? It could be a real turning point for him. I’d be very grateful if you could see your way.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Vince tonight. They get on all right in the pub on an evening. The money would be useful, too. Be nice to have a young man about the house again and, after all, I’m used to them misbehaving and that, aren’t I?’ She smiled sadly and apologetically at Ralph.

  ‘Never been to visit them, then?’

  ‘Never. Not got that kind of money. And never will have. Our Terry and Kenny daren’t come back home to England just in case.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see about that. Ring me and let me know your decision. You’d be helping everyone.’

  After Ralph had left, Mrs Jones thought about the pleasure of having someone who needed caring for.

  She furiously attacked the reel of Sellotape and packaged up all her parcels ready for the post with lightning speed. Yes! She’d do it! She would. Something to get her teeth into. She’d show him what having a mother was all about. That was if he’d come. He must! He really must. She decided not to say a word to Vince tonight, leave it for Sir Ralph to sort out before she said a word to him. Waste of time upsetting Vince if Paddy wouldn’t come. He could be awkward, could Vince, no, stubborn was the word. Blinking stubborn.

  When Vince set off for the pub that night, Greta went upstairs to decide which room she could let Paddy have. Their Kenny’s had been the smallest one, Terry as usual taking the larger room for himself when Barry left to get married to Pat. Paddy could have the bigger room. The sun came in that window the very first thing each mo
rning, nice for a man who had to be up early for work. Yes, the big room could be his. Before she went to the Store in the morning she’d give it a sort-out and bung all Terry’s belongings in the little bedroom wardrobe and put clean sheets on the bed.

  While she watched her soaps, Mrs Jones spent a lovely evening thinking about Paddy coming. It would be nice to have someone young about to offset Vince and his nonexistent conversation. At least there’d be some life in the place.

  As soon as she heard Vince at the door she got up to put the kettle on.

  They sat down to drink their bedtime cup of tea and Vince switched on The Ten O’Clock News and out of the blue he said, ‘Lonely, isn’t it?’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Us at home on our own. Just wish our boys were here. At least they cheered the place up a bit.’

  Mrs Jones wondered if this could be her moment to mention Paddy. But she didn’t get a chance because Vince said, ‘Do you feel it’s lonely?’

  Cautiously Mrs Jones answered, ‘Yes. Thinking about it only today.’

  ‘Well, how about if we take in a lodger?’

  ‘A lodger!’ Mrs Jones thought he’d become psychic overnight. Casually she replied, ‘Who’d want to lodge with us? I ask yer.’

  ‘There might be someone.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, I’ve been talking in the pub tonight—’

  ‘No change there then.’

  ‘And there’s someone …’

  Mrs Jones held her breath. Surely it wasn’t …

  ‘Well, it’s Paddy Cleary actually. Told him I didn’t reckon much to him living at the rectory and he said I could be right and the … well, anyway, before I knew where I was, I was suggesting he might come here. We’ve got two empty bedrooms and—’

  Mrs Jones shot out of her chair and shouted, ‘You’ve not said yes without asking me? You have, I can see it in your face. Don’t ask me, what’s got all the work to do. Oh! No. Not me. What if I say no? Eh!’