‘Well, at least the roads will be safe for us to go out on for a year, that’s something I suppose.’ Pat suddenly put her head down and muttered, ‘Don’t look now, he’s just come in.’
Jimmy shouted, ‘Any chance of a lift, Alan? Mi battery’s flat!’
Georgie’s head came up and the pint glass she was filling overflowed. She served her customer, took the money, and came over to see Jimmy.
‘That’s enough Jimmy, he’s been tried, got his punishment and now the matter is closed.’
‘You might call it closed, Georgie, but I bet Harriet and Jimbo and little Flick don’t call it closed. She’s still struggling on crutches, but I notice Alan’s walking OK. Looks to me like he’s got off scot free in comparison.’
‘Don’t you think that perhaps Alan is feeling bad about all this? He doesn’t exactly enjoy knocking down a child, you know. One day, Jimmy, it might be you who knocks down a child, and then see how you feel about it!’ Georgie turned on her heel and marched back behind the bar. She left Jimmy still of the opinion that he was right.
Alan began serving. Bryn and Georgie were glad of his help, for the beautiful weather had brought out the crowds. Some customers had driven from as far as Culworth to sit out in the little courtyard and enjoy the summer’s evening, or on the green or at the little tables Bryn had put outside the door. They encroached on the road a little but the sergeant turned a blind eye on hot summer nights. Bryn and Georgie and Alan were all kept busy serving, and the dining room was busy too; altogether the three of them were very pleased with the atmosphere and especially the frequent pinging of the till.
A young man came to the bar for six lagers. Alan gave him a tray, he paid for them and wandered off outside, balancing the tray carefully as he squeezed between the crowded tables. Jimmy watched him leaving and said, ‘Isn’t that chap a friend of them that punched the rector?’
‘Can’t be,’ said Pat, ‘they were banned.’
‘I don’t think he was ’ere that night. But I’ve definitely seem ’im in Culworth with ’em, boating on the river and causing a lot of annoyance with being daft. I recognise ’is funny haircut.’
Alan set off around the tables collecting the used glasses. He went to the bar with several and then Bryn said to him, ‘There must be a lot outside, Alan, go take a look, we’re running really short in here.’
It was the loud shouting which drew the attention of everyone inside the bar. Bryn looked at Georgie and then hastily pushed his way outside. The noise was becoming louder and louder and then they heard the crashing of chairs, and women screaming. Jimmy, Vera and Pat, being seated close to one of the exits, were the first of the concerted rush of customers to get outside to see what was happening. A whole group of lads had Alan on the ground and were kicking him. He was trying to protect his face and head with his hands, but they were kicking from all sides and he’d no chance of escape. Bryn muscled in, and with the help of some law-abiding customers they managed to pull Alan away, but then punches began flying and Bryn was unable to control the ensuing fight. Inside, Georgie had rung for the police, and those customers nervous of getting involved had spread out onto the green to avoid getting hurt.
Pat helped Alan inside. The cut he’d received in the accident was nothing to the condition his face was in after the kicking. Despite her anger at what Alan had done to Flick, she couldn’t help feel sorry for him.
‘Here, Georgie, you got a cloth or something? There’s blood all over the place. Quick, be quick, it’s running all down ‘is shirt.’ Georgie came with a tea cloth and between them they mopped his face. But he winced and protested so much at the pain they caused, they had to desist and leave him, slumped on a chair, holding the cloth to his face.
‘Brandy, that’s what he needs. Oh God, they’re coming in ’ere now. Watch out.’
‘Where is he, where is he?’ Tables and chairs began crashing over, glasses and drink spilling all over the floor. The noise was almost more frightening than the fighting, and Pat wished the police would come pronto, but how many would it take to control this lot? The sergeant wouldn’t be much good on his own.
Thankfully, the sound of a police siren pierced the air. Almost immediately the fighting stopped and there was a mass exodus of men. They struggled to reach the doors and get out before they got caught, but the doors were quickly secured and they were all confined in the bar. Two of the men headed for the gents’, hoping to escape out of the lavatory window, but Georgie was standing in the passage waiting for them, brandishing a cricket bat.
‘Oh, no, you don’t! One step and I’ll clobber you with this and I mean it.’ She raised the cricket bat, ready to strike. They went forward with the intention of taking the bat from her, but the glint in her eye stopped them. ‘You’ve done enough damage, and you’re getting the book thrown at you. Get back in that bar.’ She stepped forward holding the bat with both hands at shoulder level. Withering under her determined gaze, the two of them backed off. Georgie followed them, holding the bat at the ready.
Above the din she shouted, ‘Officer! These two are the ringleaders, I’ve just stopped them trying to escape.’ Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her. Petite and pretty with her fine delicate blonde hair, her eyes blazing in defence of Alan, the cricket bat held aloft, she made an arresting picture. Bryn came to take the bat from her, and as he did so her anger melted and she clutched Bryn’s arm.
‘Oh help, Bryn, I’m going to make a fool of myself. I’m going to be sick.’ She disappeared behind the bar.
Before the police left, the senior officer had a word with Bryn.
‘You’ll have to look to your laurels, Mr Fields, this is twice in quick succession we’ve had to come to a brawl here, and this one is much more serious that the last. Better control, if you please. Or else next time your licence comes up for renewal it might be . . .’ He drew his finger across his throat, making his meaning very clear.
Bryn grimly apologised. Losing his temper with the police would gain nothing. He was so angry with himself for not realising that the banned drinkers were actually on his premises. One of the men involved in the fighting volunteered to take Alan to casualty. Georgie saw him into the car, supplying him with a clean towel to hold to his face. ‘Now take care Alan, get the hospital to ring us if there’s any problems, won’t you? Best of luck, love.’ Alan nodded; he couldn’t speak because his face was rapidly swelling.
The customers began trailing back inside to finish their drinks, but the overturned tables and chairs, the broken glass and spilled drinks made it impossible.
‘This would never ’ave ’appened when Betty MacDonald was ’ere. She’d ’ave cracked their heads together, clasped ’em to ’er bosom and thrown ’em out,’ Vera observed.
Pat laughed. ‘Well, you should know Vera, she threw you out once.’
Vera laughed, wagged her finger at Pat and went home.
*
Alan came back from the hospital the following day. His nose was broken, he had several teeth missing at the front, two cuts which had needed stitches, and his whole face was badly swollen and bruised. In trying to protect his head, his hands had taken a lot of the punishment and they were bruised and swollen too, with three fingers broken. His back and chest were painful from bruising, making it difficult for him to move. After Georgie had got him to bed, she and Bryn held a council of war in their little office.
‘I don’t care what you say, Georgie, we can’t have him serving in the bar for a long time, if ever again.’
Georgie pushed her hair back from her face and pleaded. ‘What’s he going to do if he doesn’t work for us? You know full well he’s not capable of standing on his own two feet, he needs us. We’ve looked after him for sixteen years, it’ll be cruel to have to tell him he’s to go. I could have killed those two last night.’
‘I could see that. You looked full of fight.’
‘I felt scared.’
‘No matter how we feel about Alan, our customers d
on’t want him here. In a big city he wasn’t nearly so noticeable, but here his idiosyncrasies seem magnified. There is no way that we can sacrifice our livelihood to Alan. I know he’s useless without us, but he’s got to go, so you must make your mind up to it. The insurance will go mad when we send this claim in. Our premium will rocket, and we’ll be working to pay the premiums instead of working to make a profit. We’re in business, Georgie, we’re not running a home for the inadequate.’
‘Inadequate! That’s unkind!’
‘We were up till two this morning clearing up the mess, so I’m not in the mood for being magnanimous, believe me.’
Georgie put her arm through Bryn’s. ‘Can’t I persuade you, not even one little teeny bit?’ She smiled up at him, brushed a finger along his moustache and tweaked his cheek, but he didn’t smile back.
‘No, sorry, and at bottom you know the decision is right. I’ll get in touch with that girl from Penny Fawcett who asked us for a job, and we’ll give her an interview.’
‘We can’t turn him out till he’s better and he’s found somewhere else.’
‘Of course not. I’m not that ruthless.’
Chapter 16
Because of the Indian summer, Muriel was getting out of bed much earlier than usual to walk Pericles before the real heat of the day began. He was finding the hot weather almost unbearable and some days she felt real concern on his behalf. They walked slowly, in deference to his age, along Jacks Lane and down towards Shepherd’s Hill. Pericles’ nose began twitching and so did Muriel’s. She was certain she could smell cooking, surely they weren’t already working in the kitchens at the back of the Store? Seven o’clock? Surely not.
Pericles pulled on the lead, wanting a chance to investigate the smells.
‘Pericles, all you think of nowadays is your stomach. You’re getting very greedy.’ As she crossed Shepherd’s Hill, Muriel realised that something odd was afoot. She rounded the corner of the Methodist chapel, now boarded up prior to demolition, and gasped at what she saw. ‘Oh, dear. No! Oh dear. Come! Heel, Pericles.’
Dotted here and there, on the grass between the trees, were parked ramshackle caravans, old converted buses and an assortment of motorised vehicles. There were dogs and children playing, in front of some fires were burning, and the whole paraphernalia of permanent outdoor existence lay around. As she stood mesmerised by all the activity, two men came towards her each carrying large pickaxes. As they reached her they said: ‘Morning missus, nice day.’
‘Yes, it is.’ They passed her and went directly to the chapel, and began attacking the boarding nailed over the back door.
‘That’s private property, it was a chapel.’
‘Not no more it ain’t,’ one of the men shouted, and continued his attack on the boarding. Two of the big dogs came rushing at Pericles. Muriel picked him up and the dogs began leaping at her to reach him. Pericles struggled with fright, and Muriel shouted. One of the men with a pickaxe bawled at the dogs, ‘Give over.’ But they didn’t stop and he came across and hit them with the handle of his axe. They scurried away howling. ‘Don’t worry missus, they mean no harm. Let him off, he’ll be all right.’
But Muriel hurried away. She crossed the green to give Pericles a chance to run about a little and then hurried back to Ralph.
‘Ralph, Ralph are you up?’ He was just coming downstairs. ‘Oh, Ralph, there you are.’
‘My dear, how did you get your dress so dirty? And . . .’
‘Never mind about my dress, there are travellers camped on the spare land. Dozens of them with big dogs and they’re breaking into the chapel. Oh Ralph, I was so frightened.’
Ralph put his arms around her and held her tightly. ‘This is a pretty kettle of fish and no mistake. They didn’t hurt you, did they?’
‘Oh no, it was the dogs jumping up that dirtied my dress. What are we going to do Ralph?’
‘When you say travellers, how many are you talking about?’
‘There must be at least a dozen vehicles, possibly more, and there’s loads of people and children and dogs, and there’s all their things lying about. Everywhere is littered. Where on earth have they come from?’
‘I don’t know. I think I’ll ring the police.’
‘But the sergeant won’t be able to do anything all by himself, there’s so many of them.’
‘We’ll see. I’ll ring him now. They must have moved in during the night, they weren’t there at ten last night when we walked Pericles, were they?’
‘Not a sign. I’ll make your breakfast while you ring him.’
When the telephone rang, the sergeant was half way through his porridge, and he did enjoy it. He loved the rich dark swirls of black treacle contrasting with the bland flavour of the porridge as it passed over his taste buds. Now, with the phone ringing, it would be turning into a dark brown grey mush and he felt aggrieved.
As he listened to Sir Ralph telling him the bad news, he undid the top button of his pyjamas to give himself more air. He didn’t relish this idea at all. Oh no. He’d need reinforcements, yes, definitely reinforcements.
‘Certainly, Sir Ralph, I’ll get onto it straight away.’ Well, when I’ve finished my porridge that is, he thought. He sat down again, spooned the porridge into his mouth as fast as he could, drank his mug of tea down as quickly as possible, why did she always make it so hot? and raced into the bedroom to get dressed.
His wife called out. ‘You’m can’t go out on duty not shaved. Sir Ralph won’t like that at all ’e won’t, now will ’e? Only cause trouble you not being shaved, his lordship’ll report you, he will, definite.’
He raced angrily into the bathroom and straight off cut his chin with his razor. This wasn’t his day.
Sir Ralph was waiting for him. He got out his notebook. As soon as he saw the vehicles and the dogs he said, ‘I recognise this lot. They’ve been camped on Arthur Prior’s land for the last three weeks. In his back field down the old cart track. Wonder what made ’em move ’ere.’
Wryly Ralph said, ‘I wonder.’
The sergeant looked at him. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking, Sir Ralph?’
‘Could be,’ he answered. ‘Well, what shall we do then?’
‘First, they’re in trouble for breaking and entering the chapel, and damaging trees what have a preservation order on ’em, look, they’ve chopped off them branches for their fire. I think we shall have to get Culworth to come, it’s too big a job for one man this is. Two of these chaps have been up for grievous but they got off scot free, not enough evidence, but we knew they’d done it all right. Leave it to me, sir, best not get involved. You’re the landowner now, I reckon.’
‘I am, yes.’
‘Right. I’ll let you know.’
Close to the chapel a small crowd was watching events.
‘Who is they, Sir Ralph?’
‘Just travellers. They’ve broken into the chapel . . .’
‘Oh no, the devils, what will they do next?’
‘I sawed them in Arthur Prior’s fields last week, made a right mess there, they have.’
‘We shan’t sleep safe in our beds. Better lock all the doors.’
‘Yer right there. And windows. And keep yer cats in, case they run short of food.’
‘Oh, don’t be disgusting.’
‘You mark my words.’
Malcolm the milkman stopped his van, and lifted a crate off the back.
‘You’re not selling ’em milk are yer Malcolm?’
‘I’ve a living to earn, if they want milk and they pay me for it, milk they’ll get. ’Scuse me, let me through.’
‘Yer encouraging ’em, you are. Yer a traitor.’
‘We want rid of ’em.’
‘He can wait for his money this week, rotten little money grabber he is.’
Ralph stalked home. ‘MURIEL! Where are you?’
‘Here, dear. What’s happening?’
‘I’m going down to see Arthur Prior, he’s at the bottom of this.’
>
‘Why? Why has he done it?’
‘You don’t know? Of course you don’t. I’ll tell you the whole story about my dear cousin Arthur.’ Ralph didn’t make any bones about telling her. Her hand to her mouth she listened, horrified.
‘So there you have it. Mainly revenge for past wrongs, I think,’ Ralph concluded.
‘Oh, Ralph, my dear, it’s not your fault. You weren’t even born and neither was he, and they did get a farm of their own, something they would never have been able to aspire to. Well, I never knew all this before. How long have you known?’
‘My father told me when I started at the village school when I was four, he thought I should be forewarned in case anything was said. He found the right words to explain it and somehow I didn’t find it dirty or nasty, because he told me so beautifully. No one at school ever mentioned it to me and I never did to Arthur, it didn’t seem right somehow.’
‘I should think not indeed.’
‘So there you have it. I shall not give up. He can be as obstructive as he likes, I will still go ahead, because I know it is a good thing for the village and that’s my concern, not Arthur Prior’s hurt feelings or his jealousy.’
‘That’s what it is, isn’t it, jealousy? He feels his father was as much a Templeton as any born with the name. He feels bitter inside.’
‘It must have been a shock to him when I came back, after all those years away.’
‘Of course, yes, they were invited to our evening wedding party and never came, said they already had an engagement elsewhere, so that explains it. I expect he’s angry that you’ve been found to own land, when he thought all that side of the family wealth was over and done with. He’s got two sons, hasn’t he?’
‘He has. Both sons work the farm with him. There is another aspect to this though.’
‘What?’
‘The farm belongs to them only so long as there is a Prior working the land and living on the farm. As soon as that stops, the farm comes to me or any person named Templeton alive at the time.’
Village Matters Page 14
