In his gentlest voice, Peter said, ‘So shall we get on with what we know you do best, which is relieving me of having to plod slowly along for hours with my two-finger typing?’
‘Yes, of course. I’m here to help you in any way I can – and you mustn’t hold back from asking me for anything, however difficult.’ Louise smiled sweetly at him, and switched on the computer.
While she sorted out the work he’d done for her to type he worried about how to broach the subject of her joining the church choir. Gilbert Johns had spoken to him about her on Sunday evening after the service.
‘You see, Peter, she persuaded me to give her an audition. Fine. I didn’t mind, not at all. Didn’t take long.’ He sighed. ‘I hate to cause pain to anyone and I’m telling you and only you because I know I can rely on you not to gossip, but you see although Louise has a powerful contralto voice, and can read music perfectly, her singing is ever so slightly, and I mean ever so slightly, out of tune. A mere soupçon, that is all. But to someone with an ear like mine it is discernible and makes me wince. So even if I had females in the choir I wouldn’t have her. Can you tell her for me, discreetly, please? And not mention she’s out of tune?’ Gilbert had begged so charmingly that Peter had agreed to do it. But how? Better tackle it now. Clear the air.
‘By the way, Gilbert Johns spoke to me on Sunday evening. I’m afraid the answer to your being in the choir is still no. He’s absolutely adamant. He’s had another discussion with the men in the choir and they wish to stick to tradition and keep it all-male. So I’m afraid there’s nothing more to be said.’
‘Oh, did he really consult them? I bet! It’s ridiculous that in this day and age they won’t have women in.’
‘Well, I’m sorry but there it is. You see, he has a waiting list of boys wanting to join, a position most village choirs would be exceedingly glad to find themselves in, so …’ The telephone rang and saved him from having to pursue the matter with Louise. By the time he put down the receiver Louise was immersed in her typing. Just as he had become absorbed in his own work, the computer fell silent and he realised Louise was crying.
For a few minutes he ignored her, hoping the crying would stop and he could pretend he hadn’t noticed. But it didn’t. He put down his pen and said quietly, ‘Can I help?’
His gentle inquiry made her sob.
‘Please tell me, it may help.’
Louise wiped her eyes and said, ‘It’s always the same. I’m all right for typing and administration and office work, but when it comes to something personal no one wants to know.’
Peter perceived there was more to the problem than what had happened that morning with Sylvia and Gilbert’s refusal. ‘I don’t think it’s just this morning, is it, that’s made you say this.’
Louise shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t. I … I … that’s why I’m here.’
‘In Turnham Malpas, you mean?’
‘Yes. If I tell you, can I rely on your confidentiality?’
‘Of course. Absolute secrecy, I promise.’ He turned his chair to face her and waited.
‘I worked at a bank, as you know, and I was in charge of helping people who were starting up new businesses. I listened to what they had to say, saw their business plan and commented on it. If it wasn’t right I helped them to put it right, decided if it was viable, talked to them about a loan and the conditions of repayment, took the whole thing to my manager, thrashed it out with him and with his approval agreed it, then kept a watching brief through the first critical years. I was doing well, really well till one day … till one day this man came in. He was utterly charming. Polished upper-class accent, like yours,’ Louise smiled at him, ‘well-mannered, not good-looking but … Anyway, he had a good business plan – well-presented, not on a scrap of paper like some of them did – and I worked on it, though there wasn’t much to do. The manager was on holiday and I should have waited until he got back, but somehow it all seemed so genuine and the client was so keen, and so open and friendly. If I shilly-shallied, he’d lose the opportunity so I contacted the area manager instead. Of course, to him the sum involved was peanuts in comparison to the figures he dealt with every day, and because he had confidence in me he gave the go-ahead.’
‘And it didn’t work out?’
Louise shook her head. ‘I was completely taken in. We started having our business discussions while taking lunch together, then it became dinner, then I … began to fall in love with him. After that, I was no longer behaving rationally where his loan was concerned. Anyone else and I would have been alerted, but in the circumstances … Look you don’t want to hear all this. Sorry.’ Louise turned back to the keyboard.
‘If it makes you feel any better, I am here to listen – that’s fifty per cent of the job for a clergyman.’ She looked at him. He smiled.
Louise almost choked with gratitude. ‘Well, I gave my notice in at the bank at his suggestion and was going to join him. General factotum, secretarial work, learning the business so that I should become his partner and not just in the business. I couldn’t resist his charm. I began helping weekends and evenings while I worked out my notice, and I have to admit I could think of nothing else but him. Then I’d a day’s holiday to come so I thought I’d take the opportunity to get ahead with the spread-sheets I was doing for him, so I’d be free at the weekend. I walked in the office early and there was this blonde, all legs and …’ She paused. ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t been so cruel. Searingly cruel. I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what he said.’
‘I’m so sorry. It must have been dreadful.’
His sympathy made her tremble. ‘I … I’m not telling anyone, not even you, what he said. It was staggeringly hurtful. I stormed out and drove like a maniac. I don’t know to this day why I didn’t have an accident, I really don’t.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I spent an horrendous weekend and on the Monday went to the bank and straight to his file and began working through it. Of course his references turned out to be forged; the whole story had been a complete fabrication. I had to go to the manager and tell him. If I hadn’t already given in my notice I would have been sacked on the spot. You see, I should have delayed authorising the loan until my manager had come back from holiday, and what was worse I had involved myself with the man. Should have kept it entirely on a business footing. I, who thought I had a head for business, had ignored all my training. He had me absolutely fooled.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘So not only had he made me lose my job, he’d also broken my heart. I can’t forgive myself for being so taken in. How could I have been such a fool? I loved him, you see. He behaved like a gentleman, said he valued me too much to anticipate our marriage.’ Louise stopped while she regained control over her sobs. ‘Said he wanted our relationship to be on the right footing, and I admired him for that; it made me feel cherished as well as loved. But it was all a sham. A total sham. It was because he didn’t want me. I was all right, you see, for getting the loan and doing the work, but not for a relationship. That’s how it always is. Good old Louise. My parents think I was made redundant, so please don’t tell them, will you? I couldn’t bear for them to know the whole story.’
‘Of course I shan’t tell them. You know, when something like this happens, one has to pick up the pieces and plod on and eventually one gets through the maze.’
‘You’re so kind. So understanding. Thank you. I really do appreciate you listening to me. I feel so much better now, having confided in you. It’s wonderful to have you to talk to, just wonderful and you’re such a sympathetic listener. You have this gift, you know, of helping people to speak the truth and—’
To his relief there came a knock at the door. It was Sylvia back from the Store with the video clutched in her hand.
‘Only me, Rector. I need a word. Is it convenient?’
‘Of course, come in.’
Sylvia nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. So Peter stood up and followed her in there.
‘Rector, I’ve told Louise she’s not to interfere with our domestic arrangements. I won’t have it. Yesterday she coerced me into agreeing that she could look after the children, and you’ve no idea how relieved I was when Mrs Charter-Plackett rang up offering to have them both. I won’t have it and I know Dr Harris wouldn’t want it either. So that’s it. I won’t desert my post in her absence, but if I have any more interference then as soon as Dr Harris returns I shall give in my notice. She and I work beautifully together and I would regret doing it – I’ve never had a job I’ve enjoyed so much – but the sooner that woman finds herself a proper job, the better it will be for us all.’
Peter said, ‘Now see here, Sylvia, I know that you’re under pressure without Caroline, but please don’t allow yourself to get so upset. Louise is no threat to you; in fact, it’s all rather sad and I feel rather sorry for her. But I have told her myself she must confine her help to the parish and that our domestic arrangements are off-limits. So we are both on the same side. Please don’t even contemplate giving in your notice, because if you do Caroline will have me hanging from the highest branch of the royal oak for all to see.’
Sylvia laughed. ‘Oh sir, I’m sure she wouldn’t, oh no. So long as you and I have an understanding then we shall both act accordingly. She mustn’t be encouraged. Right, children, drink and biscuit-time, I think, while we watch Jungle Book. Your Sylvie needs her coffee, and I expect Daddy does too.’ Sylvia went to put on the kettle, shaking her head in amusement.
Friday lunchtime in The Royal Oak dining room was always busy. There was a hint of the freedom of the weekend coming up, and besides retired people enjoying their well-earned pleasures, there were plenty of villagers intent on enjoying themselves too. As they had already promised, Ron and Sheila had arrived for lunch, breathlessly later than they had intended so they were having to wait in the bar while a table became free. Ron was standing talking to Bryn with one foot on the bar rail and in his hand a pint of Bryn’s homebrewed ale. Sheik was sitting at one of the small round tables in the window sipping her gin and tonic. She was scrutinising Ron and comparing him with other older men in the bar. He’d weathered quite well really, considering. Now he’d lost weight his stomach had been reduced to more manageable proportions and the fat around his throat, which had wobbled when he spoke, had disappeared.
The door opened and in came Sir Ralph with Muriel. She never could get used to calling her Lady Templeton. After all, Muriel had only been a solicitor’s secretary before she married Sir Ralph. My, but he was handsome. All that thick white hair and his tanned skin and that aristocratic haughty nose. Class. Yes, definitely class. Sheila waved eagerly to Muriel and she came across.
‘There’s room for the four of us if I move my handbag. Here, do sit down. It’s so busy in here today, isn’t it?’
Muriel sat down, eager to be friendly. ‘Hello, Sheila. It’s a little warmer today, isn’t it? I’m so glad the snow has almost gone. How’s Louise? Has she got a job yet?’
Sheila laughed. ‘No, not yet. She’s looking round though. Wants the kind of job she can get her teeth into. Though how she’s going to find the time I don’t know. She’s so busy at the rectory now, especially with Dr Harris being away.’
‘Of course. I haven’t heard today. Do you know how things are?’
‘Well, they’ve both had their operations and it’s simply a question of waiting to see. Six hours in the operating theatre, they say. Of course, at their age it must have been the most tremendous shock.’ Ralph brought Muriel’s drink across and then went to rejoin Ron and Bryn. ‘Louise’s helping all she can. She’s having lunch there today and looking after the twins for Sylvia this afternoon.’
‘She’s certainly keeping very busy. I understand she was hoping to join the choir. Has she done anything about that at all?’
‘Well, yes.’ Sheila drew closer to Muriel and quietly said, ‘She persuaded Gilbert Johns to give her an audition, which of course she passed, but he’s said no way will he have women in the choir. She’s very upset about it, but she’s not given up on him yet – oh no, not my Louise.’
‘Well, if Gilbert Johns has said no I don’t see how she will change that. He’s a very quiet man but very determined where his choir is concerned. We’re really very lucky to have him, you know. He’s made it such a wonderful choir and when you think about it, for so small a village we are very privileged.’
Ralph came across, glass in hand. ‘Hello, Sheila. Everything all right with you and yours?’
‘Yes, thank you, Sir Ralph. Everything’s hunky dory. I hear Mr Fitch is opening the Village Show. Pity it couldn’t be you.’
Muriel saw Ralph’s lips press together with annoyance but his answer came out cordially enough. ‘We shall be abroad when the Show is taking place, Sheila, so the matter doesn’t arise.’
Muriel quickly decided she needed her lunch. Anything to stop Sheila putting her foot in it any more than she already had done. Sheila was renowned for annoying Ralph.
‘I think we’ll go in for lunch, Ralph. We booked for half-past one, didn’t we? If you’re ready, that is.’
‘Of course, dear. Of course. Will you excuse us, Sheila?’
To Muriel’s distress, Sheila and Ron followed them into the dining room and asked if they could share their table as it looked as if all the other diners had become glued to their chairs.
‘Would it be a bother?’ Sheila asked.
Ralph stood up, pulled out a chair for her and said, ‘Certainly not. We shall be glad of your company.’ When they had got seated they discussed the menu. Ralph said, ‘I’ll order, this is on me.’ Under the table Sheila tapped Ron’s knee with a newly lacquered bright red fingernail and he agreed to Ralph’s suggestion and thanked him for his offer. Ralph went to the food hatch and placed their orders.
They chatted about village affairs and the Show and the annual Stocks Day and how nice it was having somewhere decent in the village to eat lunch. When Ralph returned to his seat, Ron mentioned the houses Ralph was having built. ‘So glad you got permission for them. The price of houses around here is astronomical. Renting out your properties will inject new life into the place – encourage families and such. This snow has held things up though, hasn’t it?’
‘Unfortunately it has, but with luck they’ll all be completed by the middle of the summer.’
‘Have you got any tenants yet?’
Muriel eagerly explained the situation. ‘Alan here,’ she nodded her head in the direction of the barman, ‘and Linda are having one, though it won’t be ready in time for their wedding, and three of the others are already promised. So that leaves us with four tenants to find, but we’ve had lots of enquiries, haven’t we, Ralph?’
‘Yes, we have. I’m being a bit particular about the tenants. I don’t want the houses being rented by people who don’t actually need housing in the village. None of this business of using them as weekend hideaways. The houses must serve a definite purpose. I haven’t, or rather we haven’t had them built just to make money.’
Sheila, impressed by Ralph’s good intentions, said, ‘Well, I think it’s wonderful. The village needs those houses – we’re losing so many young people because they can’t afford to buy. I hear Mr Fitch is trying to snap up any cottages going spare. He’s bought Pat’s and he’s put in a bid for one of the weekenders’ cottages, but I don’t suppose he’ll be as high-minded as you are, Sir Ralph.’
Just as Ralph was about to thank Sheila for her compliment, the dining-room door burst open and Louise stood on the threshold looking around. She spotted Sheila and Ron, smiled sweetly when she saw with whom they were dining and went to join them. Ralph stood up, and belatedly Ron did too after another dig from Sheila’s sharp fingernail.
As Sheila moved her chair closer to Ralph’s to make room for Louise, she asked, ‘Why aren’t you having lunch at the rectory? You said you were.’
Teetering between tears of disappointment and an outburst of temper, Louise said betwe
en gritted teeth: ‘They’re going to Harriet’s straight after lunch for the afternoon. Sylvia arranged it. I’ll go and order my food.’ She pushed her chair back so roughly that it almost fell over, but Ron caught it adroitly and stood it up for her.
‘Well, really! She does seem annoyed,’ Sheila whispered. ‘I wonder what made Sylvia decide to do that? It seems awfully rude.’
Trying to pour oil on troubled waters, Muriel suggested that maybe Sylvia had got her plans confused. ‘She must have so much to do with Caroline being away and the telephone to answer and things, I expect she’s got mixed up. And the children will be missing their mother, so I suppose they’ll be more difficult than usual, which won’t help. They are such dear little things but so … inventive!’
Ralph wholeheartedly agreed with Muriel, and Ron said, ‘Yes, I expect so. One at a time was enough for us. Two must be murder!’
‘Looks to me as if our Louise could commit murder. That Sylvia is getting too big for her boots, you know. But still, Louise loves working for Peter and he’s so appreciative of what she does. She’s completely reorganising the quarterly magazine, and of course you’ll have got your copy of the parish telephone directory?’
Muriel nodded her agreement. ‘Oh yes, we have. A very good idea, that. I didn’t realise we had so many people connected with the church. I just wish they all …’
Louise returned, and as she sat down again she said, ‘I’ve been told I’m to keep to the secretarial side and have nothing to do with the children or the house. I’m permitted – permitted, mind – to make myself a coffee when I want as Sylvia has too much to do to be waiting on me, she says.’
Muriel grew increasingly uncomfortable at Louise’s outburst. When she’d finished speaking, Muriel said quietly, ‘I think Sylvia is overwhelmed with the responsibility and all the work, and—’
The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 4
