The door opened abruptly. Peter was standing there looking at Caroline, his face as white as the snow outside. He didn’t need to speak; they could all tell by his demeanour that something had happened which none of them would want to hear. Caroline studied his face, the colour draining away from her cheeks even before he spoke. ‘Darling, I’m afraid you’ll have to come home. There’s … there’s been an accident. You must come.’
Rebecca Shaw is a former school teacher and the bestselling author of many novels. She lives with her husband in a beautiful Dorset village where she finds plenty of inspiration for her stories about rural life. She has four children and eight grandchildren.
By Rebecca Shaw
TALES FROM TURNHAM MALPAS
The New Rector
Talk of the Village
Village Matters
The Village Show
Village Secrets
Scandal in the Village
Village Gossip
Trouble in the Village
A Village Dilemma
Intrigue in the Village
Whispers in the Village
A Village Feud
THE BARLEYBRIDGE SERIES
A Country Affair
Country Wives
Country Lovers
Country Passions
The Village Show
TALES FROM TURNHAM MALPAS
Rebecca Shaw
Contents
Cover
Title
About the Author
By Rebecca Shaw
Inhabitants of Turnham Malpas
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Copyright
INHABITANTS OF TURNHAM MALPAS
Sadie Beauchamp
Retired widow and mother of Harriet Charter-Plackett.
Willie Biggs
Verger at St Thomas à Becket.
Sylvia Biggs
His wife and housekeeper at the rectory.
Sir Ronald Bissett
Retired trades union leader.
Lady Sheila Bissett
His wife.
Louise Bianca Bissett
Their daughter.
James (Jimbo) Charter-Plackett
Owner of the village store.
Harriet Charter-Plackett
His wife.
Fergus, Finlay, Flick and Fran
Their children.
Alan Crimble
Barman at The Royal Oak.
Pat Duckett
Village school caretaker.
Dean and Michelle
Her children.
Bryn Fields
Licensee of The Royal Oak.
Georgie Fields
His wife.
H. Craddock Fitch
Owner of Turnham House.
Jimmy Glover
Taxi driver.
Revd. Peter Harris MA (Oxon)
Rector of the parish.
Dr Caroline Harris
His wife.
Alex and Beth
Their children.
Linda
Runs the post office at the village store.
Gilbert Johns
Archaeologist and Choirmaster.
Barry Jones
Estate carpenter.
Mrs Jones
His mother.
Jeremy Mayer
Manager at Turnham House.
Venetia Mayer
His wife.
Michael Palmer
Village school headmaster.
Greenwood Stubbs
Head Gardener at Turnham House.
Sir Ralph Templeton
Retired from the Diplomatic Service.
Lady Muriel Templeton
His wife.
Vera Wright
Cleaner at nursing home in Penny Fawcett.
Chapter 1
Caroline slammed the rectory door behind her and tramped through the snow to the church hall. They were holding the first committee meeting for the Village Show tonight, and if she knew anything at all about village committees, it was bound to be a lively evening. Now that the kitchen there had been renovated, she didn’t mind quite so much having volunteered to make the coffee. She shuddered when she remembered the old kitchen with its antique water geyser and smelly cupboards – and one never-to-be-forgotten night when she’d found a mouse nesting in the cardboard box they kept the packets of biscuits in!
While the kettle boiled she went through the members’ names, counting them off on her fingers to make sure she had enough cups out. People so soon took umbrage if they felt you’d forgotten them. There was Jeremy from Turnham House (‘the Big House’) in lieu of Mr Fitch who couldn’t find the time, Jimbo from the Store who’d be doing the food, Michael Palmer from the school for the children’s entertainment, Barry Jones, the estate carpenter, in charge of building and erecting the stalls, Bryn from The Royal Oak, Caroline herself representing the church, Sheila Bissett for the flower, fruit and vegetable competitions – she’d need to be kept in check or she’d be telling everyone what to do – Linda for the first-aid tent, and last but not least Louise as she called herself now, as the secretary. So that made nine.
The kettle was coming briskly up to the boil as Caroline heard the sound of early arrivals. It was Sheila Bissett with Louise, stamping the snow from their boots before they came in.
‘Mother, please! I’m the secretary – I do know what I’m doing. I have taken notes before.’
‘I just want things to go well, dear. It’ll reflect on you if it isn’t properly organised.’
‘Well, it will be, so there. And don’t forget please about my name.’
‘I don’t want to change it. I’ve always loved the name Bianca.’
‘I haven’t changed it, Mother, I’m simply using my first name. I’ve never known why you called me by my second name. Louise is so much nicer.’
‘Well, it’ll take me ages to get used to it after all these years.’
‘You must, Mother, otherwise no one else will use it.’
Sheila tried to imprint the name on her brain. ‘Louise. Louise. Louise. Heaven knows what’s made you decide to do it.’
‘New place. New start. I’ve always wanted to do it and now’s the right moment. I need an entirely new persona,’ Louise pleaded quietly. ‘It matters to me, it’s really important.’
‘All right, then I’ll remember. By the way, if there’s any talk about the sizes of the marquees, don’t forget I want a really big one for the competitions. I shall need lots of space for displaying the exhibits, you see. That Mr Fitch has plenty of money so he can dig deep for this Show.’
‘The marquee for the food will be the biggest, I expect.’
‘Oh well, naturally, what else can we expect? Some people, namely Jimbo, have more influence than is good for them. But let’s face it, the competitions will attract the most people; they won’t come all the way to the Show just to eat Jimbo’s food, good though it is.’
Caroline came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of cups and a big pot of coffee. She put it down on a table. ‘Hi! W
ould you like coffee? Milk? Sugar?’ Sheila and Louise went to collect their cups.
Sheila sipped her coffee and to fill the silence said, ‘Your parents have gone home today, Caroline?’
‘This afternoon.’
‘I met them in the Store the other day. You’re so much like your mother. I didn’t realise she was a doctor too.’
‘Oh yes, I just wish I had half her energy. I think Peter’s quite glad to see her go! She’s been in his study trying to reorganise his files. He’s really very patient with her.’
‘They were saying how much they’d enjoyed staying with you.’
‘They love seeing the children. Our two are their only grandchildren so far, you see. Their complaint is they don’t see enough of them with living so far away.’
‘Pity the weather wasn’t a little better for them while they were here.’
‘They don’t really mind. Just glad to have a rest, if you can call it a rest, living in the same house as two two-year-olds!’
Sheila laughed. ‘I see your point! I’m really looking forward to this Show. Such a good thing for the village, Mr Fitch coming – isn’t it, Caroline?’
‘It is. He’s certainly stirring us up! First the Bonfire Night Party and now the Show. Before we know where we are, Mr Fitch will be thinking he’s Lord of the Manor.’ The three of them laughed, but they each acknowledged there was a ring of truth in what Caroline had said.
A cold draught announced the arrival of Jeremy. He waddled in swathed in a huge mackintosh and heavy leather boots, which made him appear more mountainous than ever. ‘Hello, hello, ladies. Ah, coffee! Just what I need.’
Caroline handed him his cup and said, ‘Jeremy, I don’t think you’ve met Louise Bissett, Lady Bissett’s daughter. She’s agreed to be secretary for the Show. Brave girl!’
Jeremy extended his fat, sweating hand to Louise. ‘Good evening, nice to meet you. Brave indeed! Having a taste of country air for a change, eh?’
‘Something like that. You’re Mr Fitch?’
‘No, no, wish I was. My wife Venetia and I run the Big House on behalf of Mr Fitch’s company. He uses it as a training centre for his staff.’
‘I see. So you employ secretaries and the like?’
‘Yes, we do. Is that what you are?’
‘Well, I’m in banking really but I’ve got secretarial skills. So think of me if ever you need anyone. I’m organising the rector at the moment, lending a hand here and there, you know.’
Jeremy laughed and patted her arm. ‘Lucky man to have such a charming assistant!’
Caroline agreed. ‘Yes, he is. Louise is doing a sterling job with the church magazine. She’s also just started distributing the new church telephone directory which she’s compiled. We must let Jeremy have a copy, mustn’t we, Louise, then if he needs any of us, he has the numbers to hand.’
‘I’ll drop a copy in for you tomorrow.’ She beamed at him.
‘Thank you kindly. Thank you very much. Show you round if you like when you come up.’
‘Lovely! I’ve only seen the house from a distance; it’ll be great to see inside it. Thank you.’
They chose chairs next to each other and Sheila sat on the other side of Louise. The outside door opened and in came the rest of the committee – Bryn Fields deep in conversation with Michael about the merits of being a Free House, Barry talking to Jimbo about the marquee for the food and Linda from the post office bringing up the rear on her own.
‘Coffee, everyone, before we start.’ They gathered round exchanging pleasantries, and then finally settled in their chairs to begin the meeting.
‘As secretary, and due to the feet we don’t appear to have elected a chairperson, shall I take the lead?’ Louise looked round the group, meeting everyone’s eyes and waiting for an affirmative. They all agreed with nods.
Louise cleared her throat, and in a decisive voice opened the meeting. ‘Firstly and most importantly we have to decide on a site. Mr Fitch, who initiated this idea, has decided that he wants it on the lawns in front of the Big House and in Home Farm field. He’ll open up an adjoining field for car parking, he says. Frankly, I don’t think we have any choice, do you?’
Michael Palmer agreed. ‘Let’s face it, there isn’t anywhere else at all where the ground is level enough nor where there is such good access.’
‘There’s always Rector’s Meadow,’ Bryn suggested.
‘Rector’s Meadow – where’s that?’ Louise asked.
Jeremy supplied her with the answer. ‘Part of the estate. It borders Pipe and Nook Lane behind the rectory, and runs along the back of the gardens at the rear of the Big House. It would be a good-sized area, but the access is so poor. Pipe and Nook is very narrow – let’s face it, it’s only an access road for the garages at the back of the rectory and the other houses. And there’s no proper road from the other side, only a cart-track. At least down the main drive cars can pass each other.’
‘Rector’s Meadow? Isn’t that where the village cricket pitch used to be, Jeremy?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Jimbo, sorry.’
Louise looked round the committee for enlightenment but no one could answer so she again suggested the grounds of the Big House. ‘All in favour?’
‘Unanimous!’
Linda giggled. ‘Let’s hope they clear all the cowpats away before the big day! There be dozens of cows in there at the moment.’
Jeremy frowned. ‘I’m quite sure that matter will be attended to long before the day. Mr Fitch doesn’t want anything to spoil the Show, he’s set his heart on it being the success of the year.’
Caroline and Sheila exchanged a smile.
‘Now we must settle the date. Mr Fitch suggests the tenth or seventeenth of July. Any opinions?’
Jimbo checked his diary and said he preferred the seventeenth.
Michael Palmer said he thought that by then a lot of the children would have gone on holiday. He preferred the tenth.
‘It’s too soon after Stocks Day,’ Sheila commented.
Michael disagreed. ‘Well, there’s not much work associated with Stocks Day and it’ll be a good chance to advertise it, won’t it?’ he responded. ‘All those people coming for Stocks Day, we could hand out leaflets.’
‘It’s agreed then, the tenth?’ Louise waited for a show of hands, and the decision was carried seven to two. She made a note on her pad and then expanded on Mr Fitch’s ideas. ‘This Show is a huge responsibility. There hasn’t been one the size of this ever before, not even the ones they had before the Second World War. He wants a really big Show – an arena with events going on all afternoon, competitions displayed in a marquee, another marquee for teas and the like,’ she nodded at Jimbo who inclined his head in acknowledgement, ‘stalls which charities could man, ice cream, beer, you name it. He wants a Show with plenty of get up and go, not some kind of damp squib which will fizzle out halfway through the afternoon. It’s got to be the show of shows, to put Turnham Malpas on the map once and for all.’
Michael Palmer said, ‘Well, the school’s contribution will be a display of Maypole dancing. I know it’s not May Day but it looks so colourful and we have enough children for two Maypoles. Then we shall have a gym sequence by the Top Juniors, followed by country dancing. Somehow we’ll need to rig up a piano and a microphone for Mrs Hardaker to accompany it.’
‘I’ll make a note of that.’ Louise jotted down a memo.
‘I’m also willing to run a children’s fancy dress competition. That will bring plenty of parents.’
‘Thanks, Michael, that sounds great. You’re just the right person for that. Do we have any other ideas?’
Bryn proffered an idea he’d been mulling over for a long while. ‘I thought one of the events we should have in the arena could be a tug of war – you know, The Royal Oak throws down the challenge to The Jug and Bottle in Penny Fawcett or something – and I’d give a barrel of beer as the prize. I’d organise it. It would encourage the Penny Fawcett people to come, wouldn
’t it?’
Raising her voice above the babble of conversation Louise said, ‘A very good idea. That’s what we want, things to draw in the crowds. Could you be in charge of overseeing all the events in the arena, Bryn, do you think? We need someone to coordinate it all. You’ll need to liaise with the organisers.’
‘Well, I’m a comparative newcomer – perhaps there might be someone else who would prefer to do it? Michael?’
‘To be honest I think I’ll have enough to do keeping an eye on the children, and when you look round this committee, apart from Barry I’m the only person who isn’t a comparative newcomer, so I don’t see it matters. You go ahead, Bryn.’
The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 1
