A Village in Jeopardy (Turnham Malpas 16)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘He could get a buyer within a few short months. Then where would we be?’

  ‘If whoever buys it hasn’t the sense to see what a money spinner the Old Barn is then they’re a fool . . . you’ve panicked, that’s your trouble. It could be years in the present climate before he got a buyer. We’ll pull our horns in a bit and before we know where we are you’ll be top side of everything in no time at all.’

  Harriet stood up and, leaning over Jimbo, kissed the middle of his bald head, put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

  ‘Harriet! What would I do without you?’

  Grinning, Harriet asked had he never realised before that she was the power behind the throne?

  Momentarily his spirits lifted and he smiled. ‘There, you see, I never knew before it was all due to you!’

  ‘I hope that’s not you being sarcastic. I’ve backed you all the way, even if I haven’t always been certain you were right.’

  ‘You’re right. Very right. You have always supported me. With the mail order and the website too, we should be OK, shouldn’t we?’

  Harriet smiled. ‘Of course we shall. I wonder who will buy the big house?’

  ‘Certainly no one who wants to buy it to live in. I mean, who would? There’s no one flush with that kind of money nowadays; it would have to earn its keep.’

  ‘A hotel perhaps, do you think?’

  ‘Might be, might be. I’m off up to see the man himself and ask when he wants to stop the contract. I hate having to lay people off; it’s so upsetting.’ Jimbo got to his feet. ‘Remember, not a word! To anyone. Not even Mother. In fact, definitely not to her.’

  ‘Of course not. The news will get round fast enough without her assistance.’

  Harriet watched him leave the house and wished he didn’t have to tell his staff at the big house they were without a job. He’d keep them on if he could, but of course he couldn’t – there’d be nothing to pay them with. She saw him brace his shoulders, walk towards his car, pause and then carry on walking and she knew he was going to go all the way up to see Craddock Fitch on foot instead of driving. Obviously he needed time to think.

  And think he did. Halfway up the drive to the big house he concluded that the one he should be feeling sorry for was Craddock Fitch, not Jimbo Charter-Plackett. Standing on the gravel driveway gazing up at the beautiful Tudor house he remembered what a proud man Craddock was, how he thrived on the cut and thrust of the business world and how much he would hate any kind of sympathy, no matter how sincere.

  His receptionist/secretary looked distraught. Obviously it was not the right moment for the usual jolly banter she and Jimbo frequently exchanged. ‘Is your boss in?’

  His reply was a nod of the head, and another tear beginning to roll down her cheek.

  Jimbo tapped briskly on Craddock’s office door and without waiting for his permission to enter he walked straight in.

  Craddock was standing at the window lost in thought. He turned to see who’d entered and Jimbo saw he had a whisky glass in his hand.

  ‘Join me?’ Craddock asked.

  Jimbo nodded. Craddock refilled his own glass and then handed one to Jimbo. They both stood side by side looking out of the window at the green rolling fields and hills of Turnham House grounds. The lake between the house and the hills shimmered in the morning sun. Their eyes followed a lone swimmer crossing the lake, both envying he who had the time to enjoy a swim on a morning of such shattering disappointment.

  Craddock Fitch cleared his throat. ‘Love this view. Always have. Damn it! To lose it will break my heart.’

  Jimbo had never heard Craddock make such an emotional statement in all the years he’d known him.

  Jimbo muttered, ‘I had an almighty shock when I opened my post. At a loss to know what to say right now. So sudden.’

  ‘These things always are. I’ve an office building project in Sweden standing half-finished because the owner has run out of money and big bills still owed, then a succession of smaller failures, a couple of rogue bankrupts running scared, and before I knew where I was the bank, damn ’em, were calling in my loans. I’ve opened quite a few nasty letters lately from the bank and now this is the end. The time comes when you know that you have to shut the lot down and stand back watching all your hard work come to nothing. Thank God I’ve got Kate.’

  ‘I’m damned sorry. Twenty years it must be you’ve been here in this village; that’s a long time in any man’s life. Of course you’ll miss it. If . . . there’s . . . we could always put you up now we’ve none of the children permanently at home. Tide you over until—’

  Craddock raised his hand to silence him. ‘Kind offer, but no thanks. Kate and I will move to Glebe House . . .’

  ‘I thought you’d rented it to that peculiar couple we never see?’

  ‘I did. But no longer; I’ve given them notice to quit. They were always late with their rent so they might possibly be glad. So that’s more people I’ve given a shock to this morning.’ Ruefully Craddock smiled at Jimbo. ‘At least I shall have a roof over my head, but that’s about all. I’ve grown to love this old place.’ He looked round his office, gazed soulfully at the beautiful fireplace and the ancient panelling covering the walls, the ages-old bookshelves, and sighed. ‘So your contract ends as of now. Sorry, we’ve been good friends, you and I.’

  Jimbo nodded.

  ‘The students in training have all been told and by the sounds of the bumping and banging I can hear they’re busy packing this very minute. My head office in London will cause a problem. Who the blazes wants to buy first-class offices on a prime site in London in this financial climate?’

  ‘No one. I shall say this and then not mention it again. I’m deeply sorry about it all. Deeply sorry.’ Jimbo hesitated about bringing up his own rather desperate situation – it felt to be a small matter compared to Craddock Fitch’s multiple problems. But he had to. ‘About the Old Barn. I have events booked months ahead.’

  ‘I don’t expect I shall find a buyer this week or even next month, so keep going until we can’t.’ Craddock returned to staring out of the window. He was silent for a moment and then he spoke with a bitter tone in his voice. ‘There’ll be people in the village laughing their heads off; that’ll be the hardest thing to bear. I’ve been too scornful of them in the past for them to feel sorry for me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. They’ve really got to like you since you married Kate. She’ll be a comfort to you, I’ve no doubt. I’ll go gather my catering staff together and tell them the news. Something I don’t like doing, but there it is.’

  ‘I’ve always appreciated your high standards. That’s why it’s been such a money spinner for you, because of your high standards. Shows you’ve a good head for business.’

  Jimbo realised that Craddock Fitch was looking at him, this time with a smile on his face. Then he turned away and Jimbo left him where he’d found him, gazing sadly at his land.

  Jimbo pushed open the green baize door to the kitchens and found his catering staff preparing lunch. ‘Chef!’ he bellowed.

  His chef appeared, buttoning his whites. ‘Yes? You’re early.’ Not liking the look on Jimbo’s face he asked, ‘What’s up? Summat wrong?’

  ‘Have a word, your office.’

  Dave the chef was a big man and it was a squash in there for the two of them.

  ‘Tell me straight out, no messing. It’s true, isn’t it?’

  Jimbo raised questioning eyebrows. ‘What have you heard?’

  ‘That the glory days are over. Craddock’s fallen flat on ’is face.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I’ve a cousin works in the city, rumours and all that.’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly it. He’s heartbroken.’

  ‘Heartbroken? Never realized he ’ad one.’

  ‘Now, Dave!’

  ‘He’s a b— never mind, ignore me. So we’re all out of a job then. As of now?’ Dave began taking his whites o
ff.

  ‘Well, yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a hint of it. Then this morning I got the letter. I’ll tell the others.’

  Dave studied Jimbo’s shocked face. ‘No, it’s got to be me. You can stay if you prefer but they are my staff, trained to my standards and I should tell them. OK?’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll never get used to sacking people. I’ll sort out the redundancy money for them; it’ll be on the salary slip, end of the month. Right?’

  Dave looked Jimbo straight in the eye. ‘No need to worry about me. I’ve a job waiting for me in London should I ever decide to take it up, so I’m OK. As for the rest of them,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘having worked for you and been trained by me they’ll all get good jobs. Everyone in the business knows you don’t employ fools, and I don’t train idiots, so they won’t be unemployed for long. There’ll be cafes and restaurants in Culworth waiting to snap them up, believe me.’

  ‘Thanks, Dave. Always been glad of your straight-out-with-it Northern talk.’ He turned to go, and then came back to say with a grin on his face, ‘Don’t be too outspoken in London; it might not go down too well with them.’

  Dave slapped him on the back and roared with laughter. ‘Just go!’

  But Jimbo stayed to hear him tell the others about their bad luck, and then shook hands with them all, thanked them for their hard work and left before he lost his cool and broke down.

  The villagers who worked on the estate had heard the news from the catering people when they saw them leaving so early in the day and naturally the collapse of Craddock Fitch’s empire was all round the three villages before teatime, and nowhere buzzed with the news quite so much as the bar at the Royal Oak.

  Earlier than usual the regulars were assembling for a good gossip about the man who had been at the hub of village life for so long.

  ‘Well,’ said Willie, ‘it’s a real shame.’

  ‘Real shame? It blinking isn’t a shame; he deserves it. He deserves to be in the gutter for the way he’s treated us villagers.’ Don, still subject to outbursts of the truth, slapped his glass of orange juice down on the table, daring anyone to contradict him.

  ‘Have you forgotten the times he’s held parties for us all? What about the education scholarships he’s awarded, to our Dean for a start. He’d never ’ave gone to Oxford if it had been left to us. Now would he?’ This was Pat, having a free evening from organising Jimbo’s events. ‘He’s made it, ’as our Dean. He has a wonderful life and I’ve the nicest daughter-in-law any mother could hope to have. Old Fitch doesn’t deserve this.’

  ‘What about that time your Barry nearly got sacked over them paving stones and them urns that mysteriously appeared in Vera’s garden, eh?’ asked Don.

  ‘What about the champagne race meeting up at the big house when we made all that money for the mission in Africa?’ challenged Willie.

  Don remembered another matter he could hold against Mr Fitch. ‘I’ll give yer that, but what about the houses in Little Derehams what he bought? Eh! Winders letting the draughts in, and the paths bad enough to break yer leg.’

  ‘What about all the years they’ve had rent free? Yer forget about that, oh yes! Living rent free all these years and they won’t mend their own winders. Then they blame him!’ This from Willie, who’d recently paid for new windows in his own house and still cringed at the thought of how much it had cost him.

  Before the two of them came to blows Vera interrupted their tirade. ‘Calm down or you’ll be getting turned out; Georgie’s on tonight an’ she’s not as tolerant as Dicky.’

  Don opened his mouth but Vera banged her hand down on the table and said, ‘Another word and I’ll turn you out, and believe me I will, make no mistake!’

  ‘Me! Turn me out?’

  ‘Yes.’ She gave his shoulder an affectionate punch, laughing but meaning it. ‘See if I don’t.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare, woman. Not me, your dearly beloved.’

  Sylvia spoke up. ‘Shut up, Don, you’ve said enough. We’ve been mighty glad of Mr Fitch in years gone past. What about the cricket pavilion, and like Pat said the education sponsorships he’s given? Lynn Patterson wouldn’t be dancing with the Royal Ballet if it hadn’t been for Mr Fitch and his education scholarships.’ There were murmurings of approval from quite a few people round their table and Don knew his moment to shut up had come, but still pursued his point. ‘I still say—’

  ‘No, you don’t. You get dafter the older you are, Don.’ Vera gave him another punch on his shoulder and this time he retaliated by hitting her across her face, hard. That did it.

  Georgie appeared as if by magic. ‘I will not have this kind of behaviour in my pub. Out you go, and I mean it, Don Wright. Out!’ She pointed to the outer door and glared ferociously at him.

  ‘My!’ Don said, excited by her temper. ‘I like you when you’re angry. Your eyes blaze, you don’t half cut a tempting figure; that Dicky must have some fun with you.’

  Angered by Don’s comments, Georgie said loudly, ‘You’re banned! For a week. Don’t you dare set a foot in here until then. Right?’

  Willie and Alan nodded in agreement to indicate they were on her side. To Don this provided a further challenge, so he purposely sat tight and ignored them. It was fun being annoying to people; at least they took notice of him.

  Willie gave Alan a wink and the two of them stepped forward, one either side of Don. They each took hold of an arm, heaved him to his feet and frogmarched him out of the door with Don protesting all the way. Georgie ran after them with Don’s stick and they all sat back, relieved that he’d been turned out, though they were horrified by him hitting Vera.

  But Vera wasn’t. He’d hit her before for much less; the difference was this time he’d done it in public.

  Sylvia caught her eye and saw for herself what was written there.

  ‘Vera! Love!’

  Vera burst into tears.

  Sylvia put an arm around her shoulders, at a loss for words, patting her comfortingly.

  She got no reply because Vera was too ashamed. Keeping it all to herself these last . . . was it two whole years it had been going on? She couldn’t bear to admit it. He didn’t mean it, she was sure, but . . .

  Willie leaned across the table to say, ‘Vera, it’s not right.’

  Vera nodded. Of course it wasn’t, but what could she do? Bring shame on them both by letting on?

  Sylvia, deeply sorry for Vera’s plight, said, ‘I’m so sorry, love. It must be dreadful for you.’

  Vera shook her head, and wiped her eyes saying, ‘Got to go. He won’t remember where he left the car.’ She hastened out, leaving the others feeling full of sympathy for her.

  Pat and Barry came to their table. ‘Can we join you?’

  Willie and Sylvia hurriedly agreed, glad of a diversion. Barry pulled up a couple of chairs and they toasted everyone round the table and immediately asked if they’d heard the news about Mr Fitch.

  ‘We have,’ said Sylvia, ‘but I bet you know a lot more than we do.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Barry paused for maximum effect, ‘his business has collapsed. That’s why he wants to sell up. Everything.’

  Willie hadn’t realised the magnitude of Mr Fitch’s decision. ‘The whole estate? All of it? Never! Thought it was just the Turnham Malpas bits.’

  ‘All of it. Every stick and stone. The house, the grounds, the lake, the Old Barn and . . . everything in Sweden and the big offices in London.’

  ‘London, too?’

  ‘The lot, Willie, the whole blinking lot, and he’s going to live in Glebe House.’

  ‘He can’t,’ Sylvia declared. ‘There’s people live in there, not that we see them much, well hardly ever.’

  ‘He’s given them notice.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. It’s a right come down for ’im, isn’t it? The poor chap.’ There was a small element of glee in Willie’s voice as he said this.

  ‘All of us out of a job, I expect,’ Pat added rather bitterly. ‘But
maybe not yet; they’ll need someone to supervise the gardens and that. He won’t sell an estate the size of his in a moment. It could take some time. My dad’s a favourite of Mr Fitch but he’s far too old now to do a day’s work. He’s all right supervising but someone new wouldn’t want him, and with Michelle not here no more I rather think we’d be out on our ear. I’ve loved that house, I really have loved it.’ Pat sighed. ’I shall be sorry to say goodbye to it. Still, it might be a while yet.’

  ‘Of course it will,’ Sylvia said sympathetically. ‘Heaven’s above, the money it’ll cost to buy that lot! He’ll have to break it up. His London side in one lot. The Swedish stuff in another . . . how much is he asking, do you know, Barry?’

  Barry couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Fancy being lady of the manor do yer, Sylvia? How are you placed with the bank, Willie?’

  Sylvia snorted her annoyance at his teasing. ‘Don’t be daft. Of course not. I just wondered if you knew, kind of, you being at the hub of things on the estate.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be advertising any of it in the Culworth Gazette, do you?’

  They had to laugh at the idea and they all cheered up enormously, but despite all their speculation, they still hadn’t got the answer, had they? Who would buy it and what difference would it make to the village and more important, what would happen to them?

  Chapter 13

  Johnny had overheard them talking about Craddock Fitch and the collapse of his business in the pub a couple of nights ago but he’d kept a straight face and said not a word. So his opportunity to buy Turnham House, the big house as they all called it, had come. He was standing in the shade of the Old Barn gazing with joy at the house he longed to own. The longing for it surged through him and he knew that no matter what, no matter the price, it was going to be his. In fact, no point in hanging about dreaming; he’d go right now and do something about it straight away. He’d tried Alice out about living there in a teasing tone and she’d just laughed, thinking he was making a joke, but she hadn’t outright objected, so that was something.