Whispers in the Village

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Then the second officer also began stripping off.

  They’d all been taken in! It was a joke, a kissogram! But what a finish to a midnight skinny-dipping. Two people laughed so much they fell off their chairs, someone got pushed, fully-clothed, into the pool and the roar of laughter which went up could be heard in Little Derehams as they realized how they’d been fooled.

  The policemen stripped with hilarious skill. Slowly the process of undressing reached the climax and, low and behold, under their uniforms the policemen were wearing bikinis with false bosoms and both of them leaped into the pool and swam a couple of lengths to the cheers of the crowd. The crowd clapped louder still as the two policemen clambered out.

  So, who’s joke was this? Who was the guilty party? Harriet, caught in the nude by this practical joke, had a lot to say to Jimbo after she’d got dressed. Her teeth were chattering with the cold but she managed to splutter out, ‘Jimbo! It was you, wasn’t it? You organized it? No one else would have the bottle to do it.’

  Jimbo tried hard not to let on but the twinkle in his eyes gave the game away. ‘It wasn’t me, no certainly not, well … all right then, it was me.’

  ‘You do realize that I was swimming when they came in?’

  ‘You?!’

  ‘Yes, me. Just starting my second length. If it hadn’t been for Gilbert I’d have had to climb out in full view. The water was so damn cold I couldn’t have stayed in another minute.’

  ‘What did Gilbert do?’

  ‘He grabbed my towel and held it over the pool so I could get out discreetly underneath it.’

  Jimbo clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘He saw you … you know.’

  Harriet primly replied, ‘I hope, being a gentleman, he had his eyes closed.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Someone called his name, he turned to go but then a thought struck him. ‘You never said … you rogue. I’d no idea you’d put your name down.’

  ‘As one of the younger members of the Women’s Institute I had no alternative. I had to swim.’ Harriet pulled her coat more closely around her. ‘They were the two who arrested your mother. How did you persuade them?’

  ‘Someone told me they moonlight doing kissograms and such, it didn’t take much to get them to do it.’ He grinned. ‘Thought it would make a good ending to the night’s activities.’

  ‘Mmmm. I’m going in to get warm. I’ll never let you forget what you’ve done to me.’ But as she hurried away, she looked back at him. ‘Brilliant idea, though. Organize the hot toddies for everyone before I strangle you … slowly.’

  Chapter 15

  The Monday morning after the skinny-dipping event, Jimbo found another email from Peter.

  To: Everyone at Turnham Malpas

  From: New Hope Mission

  There is no further news about the children. Caroline and I are shattered. The longer we wait the more likely it seems they have fallen victim to the rebels. It is becoming dangerous here as the rebels are gathering strength by the day. All our outlying villages are subjected to unimaginable savagery. Consequently few of our congregation dare walk to church. All Europeans have been asked to leave the area but we cannot go till we find the children. No news yet from Elijah. We pray that they are hiding in the bush. God bless you all, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your prayers.

  Peter and Caroline

  Jimbo pinned the email to the Village Voice noticeboard with a heavy heart. He’d been late getting into the Store that morning, leaving Bel and Tom to start the day for him. Consequently the first person he met was Maggie Dobbs.

  ‘You’ve survived, then?’

  Maggie grinned. ‘I have indeed. What a challenge! I’d another hot toddy when I got home I was so cold. But well worth it. Just waiting for the dinner ladies to come then I can collect my sponsorship money.’

  ‘Have you seen Sheila yet?’

  ‘No. I understand she’s close to total collapse after Saturday night. I think the police arriving was the final straw. I can’t make out who did that.’

  Jimbo gave her a wicked wink.

  ‘It was you! You devil you. Wait till I tell them at the W.I. meeting tonight, they’ll be shocked.’

  ‘A committee that could think up all these devilish fundraising ideas won’t be shocked by a couple of police officers.’

  Maggie agreed. ‘Perhaps you’re right. They say it’ll be in the Gazette this week. Wonder if there’ll be any photographs?’ She giggled a little then, catching sight of Jimbo endeavouring to look innocent, she began playfully beating him with her umbrella. ‘Take that and that! If I’m in one of the photos there’ll be trouble and not half. What a trick!’

  Maggie was joined by several others coming in for a good gossip about Saturday night and it tuned into an impromptu W.I coffee morning in the Store. Jimbo’s coffee pot was refilled before half past nine.

  In their usual efficient way they discussed any lessons that needed to be learned. Where had they gone wrong? Would it have been better if … How about next time?

  ‘Next time!’ Unaware she sounded like Dame Edith Evans saying ‘In a handbag?’ Grandmama Charter-Plackett added, ‘Surely to goodness we’re not doing it again. Once is quite enough.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not skinny-dipping but something similar.’ Harriet grinned.

  ‘But what?’ Greta Jones asked. ‘That’s the problem. We’ve been so outrageous it’ll be difficult to think up something new. And I’m certainly not doing the cancan like I did, that’s definitely off the list.’ They all roared with laughter at the memory of Greta dancing towards the pool.

  Sylvia, shopping for herself and Willie and wishing she was in there ticking off Caroline’s list instead, warned, ‘We’ll just have to be more strict about police permission. If we’re not careful the committee’s going to be up in court. We were daft not to think about it. How about the gambling afternoon? That could be a problem.’

  Harriet, hoping she was correct, said, ‘But we’re not actually placing bets actually on the afternoon, are we? We’ve paid for them when we bought our tickets. Anyway it’s too late now.’

  There was a general murmur of agreement. ‘Ah! Right. Yes. Of course.’

  Jimbo, enjoying listening to their conversation while concentrating on perking up the cold meat counter, thought then of Peter’s email and his heart sank. Poor Peter had an awful lot more on his mind than the whys and wherefores of police regulations. If it were his Flick and Fran missing he’d be frantic and not roaring his head off at the memory of Greta Jones doing the cancan. One felt so helpless.

  As Maggie had said, Sheila was still struggling to throw off the effects of Saturday night. She’d spend what was left of the night in restless sleep and all day Sunday she hadn’t been worth a row of pins. She’d made up her mind to take Monday very slowly indeed.

  ‘It’s no good, Ron, I’m not getting up yet. I still ache and all I want to do is sleep. I’m exhausted and there’s the W.I. Committee meeting to chair tonight and I can’t cry off that. I feel as if I haven’t slept for a week. No, a month.’

  ‘Don’t forget it was very successful, one of the most successful efforts we’ve ever had. Well, since we came to live here anyway.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. That hoax of Jimbo’s made for a good ending for the night, didn’t it?’ She had to smile about it, though at the time she’d thought she would die. ‘I’ve got a good committee, you know, they all support everything we do. I think I’ll suggest Maggie Dobbs for the committee when it comes to the year end. There’s more to her than I first thought.’

  Ron laughed. ‘There is! When she dropped her towel … Wow!’

  ‘That’s not funny.’ Sheila lifted her head from the pillow. ‘I thought she looked quite good for a woman her age.’

  ‘That’s what I meant. She looked good, in fact very good.’

  ‘Ronald Bissett! Do something useful and make me some breakfast. I’ll have a croissant out of the freezer with butter and a banana.’

&n
bsp; ‘I don’t know what to do with a croissant. Have toast instead.’

  ‘I want a croissant and you know exactly what to do, it’s just that you’re bone idle.’

  The phone rang and Ron went to answer it. He came back upstairs and stood in the bedroom looking at her.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Sheila …’

  ‘That’s me.’ His demeanour worried her. ‘What is it, Ron?’

  ‘Sheila …’

  He appeared to her to be having difficulty speaking and a terrible fear came over her.

  Ron tried again. ‘It’s Louise.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Gilbert’s going to rush her to hospital.’

  ‘I knew it. It’s the baby, isn’t it?’ She sprang out of bed, looking at Ron, waiting for his reply.

  ‘She’s gone into premature labour.’

  ‘What! But it’s much, much too soon.’

  ‘Exactly. Gilbert wants us to go.’

  ‘Of course. Oh Ron, I’ve always known there was something wrong with this baby. Things haven’t been the same this time. Out of my way.’ She pushed him aside and raced for the bathroom.

  Ron drove as fast as he dare to Keepers Cottage. But Gilbert and Louise had already left and one of the Bliss twins was standing outside waiting for them.

  ‘Mr Johns says will you have the children? They’re all at our house.’

  Sheila and Ron turned on their heels and dashed down to the Blisses’ cottage. Eleanor had them all eating their breakfast. The baby was in a makeshift high chair and, as she hadn’t enough chairs for everyone, the three older ones were standing round her table, eating from cereal bowls.

  Sheila called out, ‘Children, here’s your nana come to love you all. Mrs Bliss, thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough. I really can’t.’ She kissed the baby, hugged the others, smiled at the Bliss family and generally caused confusion.

  Eleanor Bliss smiled and restored order, then began calmly toasting bread for them all. ‘Have you had breakfast, Lady Bissett?’

  ‘No. We came as soon as we could after Gilbert rang. Please, call me Sheila.’

  ‘I’ll get you some then. Tea all right?’

  Ron and Sheila nodded. Eleanor put a massive brown glazed teapot on the table and began pouring cups of tea. Weak and sweetened for the children, and unsweetened and stronger for the adults.

  ‘I don’t think Louise allows the children—’

  Ron gave Sheila a dig. ‘I’m sure it won’t matter for once, Sheila, in the circumstances. Thank you, Eleanor, for this. You’re an angel. Now sit down on the sofa, Sheila, and I’ll bring your tea and toast across. Will toast do?’

  Sheila nodded. She sat quietly munching her toast and then suddenly burst out, ‘Eleanor! I don’t think there’ll be a baby, do you?’

  ‘I very much doubt it. Poor Louise she will be upset, but perhaps it’s for the best. These things happen for a reason sometimes, don’t they?’

  Sheila looked straight at her and pondered on her wisdom. ‘I expect they do. All the time I’ve known she was expecting, I’ve felt things weren’t right with this one.’

  ‘Louise thought the same, she was very worried.’

  Sheila was appalled that Louise could confide in Eleanor and not her own mother. What were mothers for if not for confidences? Still, she seemed an intelligent person, did Eleanor, and had probably said just the right thing, which Sheila knew she most likely wouldn’t have done.

  When she’d finished her toast and tea, Sheila said urgently, ‘I want to go and see Louise. Right now. She needs her mother. Ron, can we go?’

  ‘There’s the children, Sheila.’

  Eleanor gave them the answer. ‘Never mind about them. It’s fine, they can all play in the garden and my girls will be delighted to play with them. Please, just go.’

  Ron put £30 in her hand as he was leaving. ‘Get one of the boys to cycle to the Store, get some food in. Can’t expect you to feed five more children. Here’s Louise’s spare key. If there’s anything you need from the house, nappies and things, feel free. We’ll be as quick as we can.’

  ‘Ron! Ron! Come on, please.’ Sheila was waiting by the car, cross that Ron was taking so long.

  The moment she entered the maternity hospital Sheila became seriously agitated. She knew she wasn’t a big enough person to cope with this. She just was not. Then she remembered Saturday night’s success and decided maybe she was more capable than she felt.

  It was the smell which alarmed her. Disinfectant and polish and cleanliness. At least it all looked very clean, which was more than could … The sister came to speak to them.

  ‘Louise Johns’s parents? Would you come this way, please?’ She took them into a side room and sat them down. ‘The baby was almost here when they arrived.’

  Sheila blurted out, ‘It’s come, then. Is it all right?’

  ‘I’m afraid the baby is very ill.’

  Ron asked the question Sheila couldn’t say for the life of her. ‘Are you … are you hopeful for it?’

  ‘We’re doing our best, but …’ The sister closed her lips and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Sheila, desperate to know more, managed to say, ‘Is it perfect, but come too early?’

  ‘Too early and not perfect.’

  Bile rose in Sheila’s throat. ‘Can you see it’s not … perfect?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ron asked, ‘What is it?’

  ‘A boy.’

  ‘Just what she wanted. Can we see her?’

  ‘It’ll be a while before you can see her.’

  Sheila asked, ‘Can we see the baby?’

  ‘Not at the moment. He’s being assessed.’

  They waited an hour and a half to see Louise. She was whiter than white, if that were possible, all her natural rosy colour hidden by a kind of grey sweat, her hair straggled across the pillow in the most unbecoming way, and she was gripping Gilbert’s hand as though her very life depended on it.

  ‘Louise, I’m so sorry. So sorry.’ Sheila leaned over and kissed her, then stood back for Ron to do the same.

  ‘We’ll get through this. We’ve to be grateful for the five lovely ones you’ve already got.’ Ron kissed her, too. He then went to the other side of the bed and gripped Gilbert’s shoulder. ‘I’m very, very sad for you both, Gilbert. Is there anything we can do?’

  Gilbert mustered up some courage from somewhere and said cheerfully, ‘Would you like to see the baby? We’ve called him Roderick. He’s a grand little chap and fighting hard.’

  When Sheila saw the baby she almost cried out in her agony. Grand little chap? Fighting hard? How on earth could Gilbert think for one single moment this tiny scrap of a human being would survive?

  He was in an incubator, wired up all over the place, tubes and pipes and plastic this and that, even tubes up his tiny nostrils, and machines whirring away. His little chest was pumping up and down very fast. He was so tiny, there was nothing of him to do any fighting. Gilbert was deluding himself. She couldn’t describe all the things that appeared to her to be wrong with him. They were too terrible and too numerous to count. Why couldn’t they cover him with a blanket to hide some of his problems? Though he didn’t need covering to keep him warm, the temperature in the unit was extremely high. Sheila began to feel faint.

  Ron had to take her out. He shook his head at Gilbert, who seemed mesmerized by what had happened. Gilbert followed them out and in answer to the shake of the head Ron gave him said, ‘They’ll pull him round, don’t you worry. They work miracles nowadays. He’s got a good team fighting on his side.’

  Ron burst out, ‘Is that the kindest thing to do? To fight for him?’

  Gilbert’s eyes were cold when he answered. ‘Of course. He’s our baby and whatever he needs he’ll get. Don’t say a word of how you feel to Louise, I won’t have it.’

  ‘Of course not. Of course not.’ Ron gripped Sheila’s arm even more tightly and placed a finger against her lips. ‘Not a w
ord. OK?’

  ‘Does she know?’ Sheila whispered to Gilbert.

  ‘Of course she knows. It’s going to be a long hard fight, but he has brothers and sisters who’ll help him, and parents who want him and love him. He’s our flesh and blood, and don’t forget he’s yours too. He’s going to be fine.’

  In desperation Sheila gripped his arm and said softly, ‘Oh, Gilbert, don’t ask it of him, it isn’t fair.’

  Gilbert brushed her hand from his arm and said emphatically, as though convincing himself as well as them, ‘He’s ours, and he’s going to live. Believe me. Whatever it costs. And don’t say that to Louise. Do you hear?’

  ‘He hasn’t the will to fight, Gilbert. He’s no strength.’ She didn’t dare mention his disabilities, but in her mind she could see his twisted feet and that appalling harelip.

  ‘He has. I’ll go talk to him if you’ll stay with Louise.’

  Ron and Sheila stayed with Louise until lunch-time and then went home to care for the children. Before he left Ron bent over the bed and whispered in Louise’s ear, ‘Take care, love. Don’t be too disappointed if things don’t work out as you’d like. He’s very frail. Very frail. Perhaps the good Lord in his wisdom’ll take him back for his sake and he’ll be one of His angels.’

  ‘Shut up, Dad, you’re being ridiculous. Give the children my love.’ She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it in the most loving gesture she’d given him since she was a little girl. Ron went out blowing his nose, and stood in the corridor, hands clenched by his sides, hoping Sheila wouldn’t be long.

  Sheila wasn’t. She gave Louise a peck on the cheek, gripped her hand and said, ‘Don’t be too disappointed, it might be all for the best. He looks so poorly.’

  Louise burst into tears and cried, ‘Gilbert! Gilbert!’

  So Sheila left the two of them hugging each other, weeping together. She looked back at them from the door and couldn’t bear to witness such appalling grief. They didn’t deserve it. Ron was waiting; he wouldn’t be crying. But he was.