A Village in Jeopardy (Turnham Malpas 16)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Maggie loudly declared whose side she was on. ‘I feel sorry for Jimbo. He’s lost the students up at the big house, and now this. What a blow for him.’

  Willie declared that ‘Jimbo’s had it all his own way for years now. Maybe some more competition will bring his prices down. I tell Sylvia, don’t I? She shouldn’t shop there. Culworth market’s the best.’

  ‘Oh yes! And who is it you expect to heave all the shopping home now I’m not driving any more? Mmm? Me! Because you hate all the hustle and bustle of the market. My back! My legs! Isn’t that enough? How much more? Bleating every single minute, you are, if you come with me. Which you hardly ever do.’

  Maggie and Pat sympathised with Sylvia so Willie took no further part in the conversation because he knew she was right: he did complain, all the time, about every blessed thing.

  To their delight Greta and Vince Jones came in. They were rare visitors to the Royal Oak and headed straight for faces that they knew. Two more chairs were pulled up, Barry offered to get his mother and dad a drink as well as anyone else in need and went to the bar to sort them all out.

  ‘Don’t often see you in here, Greta, nor you, Vince.’

  Vince agreed. ‘Well, you know, we get comfy in the warm in the winter and the thought of climbing the hill into the village is more than we can face. And then in the summer it’s the only time we have to keep the garden and my allotment up to scratch. Time flies when you’re both working.’

  ‘Had a good Christmas?’ asked Sylvia.

  ‘We did. Thanks. And you?’

  ‘We went to my sister Jean’s.’

  ‘Good time then?’

  ‘Excellent, always good for a laugh is our Jean. Oh! Thanks, Barry.’ They sorted out the drinks, wished each other ‘A Happy New Year!’ and then Greta, unable to wait another second to impart her news, said, ‘Have you heard the latest?’

  ‘About another supermarket, you mean?’ said Maggie, delighted her news was going to get another airing.

  ‘No. About the big house.’

  ‘What about it? Don’t tell me he’s sold it,’ Pat said, astonished her Barry hadn’t been the first with this bit of news.

  ‘I was in the store looking for a soup that Vince loves – and they hadn’t got any; isn’t it amazing you go in for—’

  Thoroughly deflated by the surprise being tinned soup that Jimbo hadn’t even got, Barry interrupted Greta. ‘Mum! Is it about tinned soup? Is that all?’

  ‘No. I was searching in the tinned soup shelves when in came old Fitch. I guessed it could be something special, he so rarely goes shopping, so I hung about kind of and he said . . .’

  ‘Yes-s-s?’ they chorused.

  ‘That he has a man coming to go over the big house with a view to buying it for a residential home for rich elderly people.’

  ‘No-o-o!’

  ‘Rich elderly people? I like the sound of rich elderly people,’ said Vera, thinking there might be some part-time work cleaning and such, which would supplement her pension a treat.

  ‘Now that does sound promising, very promising. In fact it could be the best news in months. More bottoms on seats in church.’ This idea from Sylvia.

  ‘More high-class business for Jimbo,’ said Greta.

  ‘More people for the Saturday coffee mornings,’ said Vera.

  ‘More helpers for everything, even flower arranging. Sheila Bissett will be delighted.’

  ‘Will she though?’ said Sylvia. ‘She loves being in charge and rich elderly ladies might think she’s not quite good enough.’

  ‘Surely to goodness she can’t carry on much longer in charge; she’s well past her sell-by date.’

  Barry raised his glass. ‘Let’s drink a toast to the big house. If it comes off I’ll be pleased. Might mean my job’s secure; they’ll be sure to need a maintenance man. It’s been a while since old Fitch spent money on it.’

  Dottie joined them and had to be brought up to date with the news about the big house. ‘I wonder if they will want Jimbo to carry on with the weddings and events in the Old Barn. I shall miss earning that extra money if not.’

  ‘Still, they haven’t bought it yet. It might not suit. We’ll have to wait and see.’ Barry added, ‘But some rich elderly people coming to the village sounds to me like a good idea. More compatible than that Freedom Blade bloke.’

  Sylvia piped up with a remark about a piece in her morning paper. ‘He’s being charged with all sorts, it says in the paper, some of which I don’t even understand.’

  Barry patted Sylvia’s knee. ‘Best not. If you did I’d not like you as much as I do now.’

  They smiled at each other, and the conversation picked up again, and they all went home convinced that the rich elderly people would transform the village and best of all bring a whole fresh stream of interest and gossip.

  The day for the visit dawned. Kate had put huge pots of plants from the greenhouses about the house, and large flower arrangements dotted here and there, which was difficult, with it being the depth of winter. She whisked about the rooms, polishing furniture to bring a freshness that had been lacking since the house had been empty and the cleaners departed.

  Twelve noon they’d said, so Jimbo had been asked to organise a buffet lunch in the dining room. They’d been told to expect three members of the board along with a couple of finance people, and Jimbo had excelled himself. Craddock was mightily impressed when he put his head round the dining room door and saw the beautiful spread, and the linen napkins and the impressive lace cloth. For the first time in the long weeks the house had been up for sale he felt his spirits rising. He settled himself at his desk and made to look busy. He’d looked up the company on the internet and he was very impressed with what he read. Sound, solid company, he thought, not likely to crumble just as they were about to sign. He read the names of the directors, none of whom he knew, but that didn’t matter so long as they had money and drive.

  They were a bright and breezy lot, typical London businessmen, charming but ruthless, well-mannered but curt, but what thrilled Craddock was their obvious delight in the house.

  ‘May we take photographs? Just a few of the impressive parts?’

  Craddock nodded his agreement. What the hell, he thought. They can take as many as they like. Anything to push the business on.

  They complimented him on this and that. Admired the staircase, loved Jimbo’s kitchen, realising that that was one big expense they’d be spared, obviously thrilled by the swimming pool and the gym. ‘Just exactly what we want. We encourage our guests to keep active, you see. Our report back to the board will be full of praise. Can we look round the grounds? Just a little way; not quite the sort of day for us to amble right the way over every inch.’

  Craddock Fitch suggested they walk towards the lake. As they set off one of the finance directors with a lean face and a thin moustache, who reminded Craddock of a rat he met once when he was having a cigar outside one hot summer evening, asked what about that Old Barn halfway up the drive? With all the worry he’d had Craddock hadn’t actually decided about the Old Barn. In a flash of inspiration he said, ‘That would be an extra to the advertised price. It’s currently very successfully run by a talented neighbour in the village and provides a very substantial rental income, with no disturbance to anyone living in the house itself. It’s licensed for weddings and people book it for parties and business meetings. All very high-class and expensive. You might be glad of the rent . . . that is if you go ahead with your plans.’

  None of them either approved or disapproved, and they trailed along behind Craddock to go view the lake. They were very impressed, taking in the beauty of it and thinking up the possibility of rowing boats for their guests to use.

  ‘They could row to the other side and picnic; it’s just far enough, not too far, ideal. Few rustic tables and chairs scattered about.’

  ‘With sun umbrellas,’ someone added, warming to the idea.

  The one who appeared to be in charge said carefully
, keeping any hint of serious enthusiasm out of his voice, ‘This place is excellent. Everything about it is just what we want.’

  Craddock heard the enthusiasm which the chap tried to keep under wraps but didn’t succeed.

  By the time they left Craddock’s spirits were the highest they’d been in months. He was convinced that this time he’d got a buyer. After a friendly lunch they departed with promises of being in touch as soon as. ‘The time for a new venture is now, and if we get the approval of the rest of the board we shall move on it immediately. Subject of course to the local council approving of our plans. And believe me, we shall give them a very convincing report.’ There were nods of agreement from everyone. ‘I can’t shake hands on it, I’m afraid, until we have their approval. Thank you for lunch; thank you for showing us round.’ It was friendly handshakes all round and Craddock stood out on the terrace to wave them off. Their two massive Bentleys purred their way down the drive and as they disappeared from sight Craddock raised his fist and shouted to the heavens, ‘Yes!’

  Kate rang him at a quarter to three from the school office and asked how things had gone.

  ‘Kate! I do believe we’ve got a buyer. Everything about the house was just right for them. The bedrooms being en suite, the sitting rooms, the kitchen, the pool. Just what they want. They’ve even taken photographs. Believe me, darling, I’m pretty sure we shall be in Glebe House before long.’

  ‘I’m delighted. What a relief. But we shan’t celebrate till they’ve signed on the dotted line, though.’

  ‘Of course not. I’ve been long enough in business to know that, but it looks very promising. Bye! Thanks for ringing.’

  Kate pressed the off button on her phone and took a moment to stare out of the window. That dreadful Glebe House. Just imagine! Living with all that marble! She felt depressed and wished for one mad moment that these residential home people, rich or not, would decide not to buy it. She’d been so happy living in that magnificent house, so comfortable, so secure.

  The school suddenly came to life again as the children came back in from their afternoon play. Which meant it was story time now. She went with a heavy heart, even though she knew to sell was the only solution to their financial problems. If only it had been Johnny Templeton buying it. She caught sight of herself in the wall mirror in her office and saw she was smiling ruefully. The result would have been the same though, her and Craddock living in Glebe House. Maybe in a while they could sell up and move somewhere more compatible. Leave Turnham Malpas? Perhaps not.

  Craddock waited ten impatient days before he heard. During which every day without any contact felt like a year, every post without a nice thick envelope from London a wasted one, then finally it came. His hands shook as he struggled to open it, and then he read the fateful words. An offer! The asking price! Three million!

  Chapter 23

  Being totally absorbed by the baby and Johnny’s joy at being a father, Alice was unaware of the village happenings. When she did surface, momentarily, she came to the conclusion that where once music had filled her life, now it was baby Charles who filled it, with Johnny running a very close second. She felt motherhood was the most brilliant occupation and wondered how on earth she would be able to pick up her career again, or even find time for it. Best of all, it was the first time in her adult life she didn’t need to worry about money. With Marcus it had been a daily anxiety; now Johnny had solved all that and she was at liberty to indulge herself.

  He spent long hours on the phone talking to his brothers about the hotel business; they appeared to pick up every opportunity to expand, to acquire, to come up with new ideas for making even more money. She’d never met them but they were coming over at the end of the month so she would be able to show them what really mattered in life: a settled home, a family, love.

  And she had all three, whereas Johnny’s brothers had nothing else to think about but making money and then more money. Johnny appeared to have dropped the whole idea of buying the big house and making it the Templeton family home and she was glad, though every now and again it did occur to her that maybe she’d been too decisive about that. The romantic side of her rather fancied the idea of the Templetons being back where they belonged, but maybe having Johnny endlessly on the phone about acquisitions abroad was a better option. She tried to imagine what it would be like to live there and the day that Craddock Fitch heard about the offer from the residential home people she decided to take Charles round the lake at the big house for his daily quota of fresh air and see how she really felt about it. Alice knew, before she set off, that she wouldn’t like it, but for Johnny’s sake she went.

  It was a crisp January day. The sun shone but gave no heat and she was glad she’d put on her wool hat and thickest gloves. Charles was asleep even before she’d set foot on the long drive that led up to the house.

  The trees didn’t hide the house like they did in the summer, and here and there they still bore the hoar frost from the bitter cold of the night and reminded her of fairytale trees. The intense cold wind made it difficult to breathe and she had to turn her back for a moment to ease the constriction in her chest. It was much colder than she’d realised and the thought of Charles getting too cold worried her, but with the hood up and his blankets tucked in right up to his chin he appeared perfectly happy. With her back to the house Alice saw the long vista of the approach and was surprised when her heart stirred. No! She wouldn’t allow it; it wasn’t going to happen. She was not coming to live in this house. He’d find a buyer, would Mr Fitch. He wouldn’t be beaten by anyone, being the man he was. She set off again and came across Barry Jones having a quiet smoke, hidden from prying eyes, leaning against the trunk of one of the beech trees that lined each side of the drive.

  ‘Caught yer! Who are you hiding from, Barry?’

  ‘Alice! You made me jump!’

  ‘Sorry!’

  Barry straightened up so he wasn’t leaning against the tree trunk. ‘Just been told,’ he nodded his head in the direction of the house, ‘by old Fitch that I’ve more than likely lost my job. All the gardeners have been told the same. That means we lose the Gardener’s House; it’s the end of life as we know it.’ Barry looked away from her as though he couldn’t face her seeing his distress.

  ‘Oh! Barry, I’m so sorry. Has he got a buyer then?’

  Barry nodded. ‘He has.’

  ‘But surely the gardens will need looking after, the house will still need repairs, and painting and such. He can’t mean it.’

  ‘He does. It’s the residential home people – they’ve offered the full price. Says they have their own team of handymen and such and they won’t need us. He’s beside himself with delight. Not very delightful for us though. Unemployment in the village is serious. Everyone suffers.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts; there’s no work round here other than Jimbo and Mr Fitch employing people. The cleaners and the kitchen hands all went weeks ago when the students left and now it’s us with skills and that.’

  Alice felt all chewed up inside. She’d been so absorbed by the baby – she leaned over the pram to check his cheeks felt warm – she’d never really thought about how everyone would be affected by all the changes. If Johnny had bought it he’d have employed them all over again. Well, not the kitchen staff, but maintenance and the gardeners. You couldn’t have a house this size with its flowerbeds, its huge lawns and the extensive glasshouses without experienced workers, otherwise the whole garden area would be overrun inside two years. The thought horrified her. Still, at least there’d be someone looking after it all, with these new people owning it.

  ‘I hope things turn out better than you think, Barry. Must press on.’

  ‘Baby doing all right?’ He leaned forward to peer under the pram hood. ‘My, but he’s the spitting image of Johnny; no doubt about who his dad is. See yer around.’

  ‘Of course. Bye, Barry.’

  ‘Bye!’

  Alice managed one trip round the lak
e and then hurried home to the warmth and comfort of her cottage. Although invigorated by her walk, she was depressed by the situation Barry and the others found themselves in.

  As usual Johnny was on the telephone; she dreaded the quarterly bill coming, but then she remembered money was no longer a problem and the relief was enormous.

  Johnny finished the conversation very quickly and emerged from the sitting room beaming with pleasure. ‘Darling, you’ve been ages. I was just about to come to find you. Where did you go?’

  ‘Up to the big house and round the lake. It’s definite – he’s sold it to that residential home for rich people. The confirmation arrived today. I don’t expect they’ll want all the village wandering through the woods and the parkland like we’ve all of us always done. Pity that. It is truly beautiful up there. I met Barry Jones.’

  ‘Nice chap is Barry.’

  ‘He’s very upset. Mr Fitch has more or less told him he’ll be sacked and all the garden staff too. Mr Fitch is one of the big employers round here, and there’s not much employment apart from the big house, except Jimbo, and he’s insignificant by comparison. Oh!’ Alice’s eyes filled with tears.

  Johnny put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t upset yourself. There’s always work to be found for skilled people and he might be good at skiving but he’s skilled and he’ll easily find other work.’

  ‘Yes, but they’ll lose the head gardener’s house too; that’s the worry. Old Grandad, Pat’s dad, still supervises the gardening staff and a modern up-to-date company won’t make room for an old man with serious arthritis, despite his experience. There’s nothing paternalistic about modern business, is there? If Ralph had been there he’d keep him on, tradition and all that stuff.’

  ‘You approve of tradition then?’

  Alice laughed at herself. ‘Since I had Charles my brain has gone mushy and sentimental, and yes, I do believe in tradition. We just have to be thankful we haven’t got Freedom Blade coming. It’s the end of an era, even so. I can’t see a residential home, even if it is for the rich elderly, giving money to the church like Mr Fitch always did. It could mean the church having to close, though Peter has made a tremendous improvement to the attendance. The cost of everything, like heating the church, has rocketed. It’s really quite depressing.’