by Rebecca Shaw
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watching the whole proceedings from the side gate, her screams of protest unheard in the general melee.
Sir Ronald stood in the back porch removing his clothes while Sheila went inside for a large bath towel. The damage done to the garden and the pond by the skirmish was more than she could bear. The fish would sulk for at least a fortnight and the herbacious border, just when the plants were beginning to grow again, would most likely take all summer to recover. By the time she returned with the bath towel Sir Ronald had undressed down to his underpants. An angry voice boomed over the gate.
'Sir Ronald, a word if you please.' Jimbo Charter-Plackett, still wearing his morning coat, was striding into the garden. 'Got back early from the reception to find Flick running down Stocks Row in floods of tears saying you've tried to kill her cats with a spade.'
Unhinged by the ridiculous position he was in Sir Ronald stormed out of the porch and confronted Jimbo, his dignity considerably dented by the wet underpants clinging to his thick, overweight body and the pondweed coating his head and face.
His wife rushed after him with the towel but he waved her angrily aside.
'I'm sick of your bloody cats. They wander about all over the place. We're not the only ones who complain. Ruin my garden they do, they use it as a damned public convenience.'
Sheila tried desperately to rescue what little was left of Ron's dignity, 'Ron, Ron, please put this towel round you.'
'Shut up Sheila. Do you hear me Jimbo? It's open war from now on. I shall use cat powder and any other device I can think of to defend my garden.'
'Come, come now Sir Ronald, they're only young cats and it's caused Flick a great deal of distress. It's not fair to
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threaten them with a spade. What have you been doing to yourself, by the way? You look perfectly ridiculous in those drawers, man. Get yourself covered up.'
'Covered up? It's your cats I shall be covering up, dead and buried they'll be if I have my way.'
Jimbo stepped forward and prodded his finger sharply on Ron's fat wet chest. 'Lay one finger on those cats and I shall have you prosecuted and I mean that. Flick's already had one cat drowned as you know, she can't cope with any more tragedies. Now go inside and get yourself attended to before you make any more of a spectacle of yourself.' Jimbo in a blazing temper turned on his heel and marched forcefully out of the gate, banging it shut and nearly breaking the catch. Sir Ronald took the towel, wrapped it round himself and strode, with what little dignity he had left, into his house.
Sheila knew when to keep quiet and now was the time. Normally she ruled the roost in the Bissett household, but there were days when even Sheila knew that silence was golden. She could hear Ron stamping about in the bathroom. He was so careless of all her frills and flounces: heaven alone knew what the lavender carpet and bath mat would look like when he'd finished. She'd chosen them so carefully to tone with the navy fitments. The cover on the toilet lid was lavender as well. She'd bought them all in Marks & Spencer and knew the moment she saw them that they would give the right effect. But it was the white basketwork shelving holding the glass jars of guest soaps and bath pearls and the lace tissue-holder which were the delight of her life. And the nets at the bathroom window, frilled all round the edges and draped tastefully over the frosted glass, were white as well with little sprays of flock flowers. The bathroom was one of her triumphs. Since she'd married Ron life had not had many delights for her financially, but these last few years,
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with his broadcasting fees and all the trips abroad he'd had with the Union and the expense account, things had improved considerably.
Sitting at her bow-fronted dressing table, Sheila heard the bathroom door slam shut. Ron came in stark naked.
'I've told you before, Ron, not to walk about like that.'
'Who's to see me?'
'Well me for instance, and it's not nice.'
Tm not concerned whether it's nice or not I'm too occupied thinking about how to stop those damned cats from ruining our garden.'
'I thought Jimbo had rather a lot too much to say. Such a temper he has . . .'
'Barbed wire that's the answer. Cat powder only puts them off when they've got in, I've got to stop them getting in at all.'
'Barbed wire? We'll look like Colditz.'
'I don't care. Barbed wire it is. Or else we'll get a bigger dog who'll kill the blasted beggars.'
'Ron, you know I don't like language like that.'
'There isn't a word in the English language that fits those blasted cats.'
'In any case Pom wouldn't like another dog here. It would upset him dreadfully.'
'Might do him good, brighten his ideas up a bit. You make him too mamby pamby Sheila, I've told you about it before. He only comes alive when Perry comes to stay.'
'So you say. I think he's all right on his own. You should never have volunteered to have Perry. Three months' honeymoon in Australia, I ask you. That Muriel Hipkin's never been further than Bournemouth I should think, not till Sir Ralph came back. First Rome and now Australia . . . she's played her cards right, and no mistake. Managed to land him at last. What on earth he sees in her I shall never know. Ron, do you think they'll . . .
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you know . . . ?'
'Eh? Oh that, I haven't any idea about that. I might as well put on the clothes I'm wearing tonight at the reception. Wish it could be my tweed suit. Bloody cats.'
'It wouldn't have been suitable anyway. People like us have to show the villagers the right way. You need your funeral suit love. With that nice spotted tie Bianca bought you for Christmas.'
'I'll look like a dog's dinner. You know I don't like that suit. I should never have let you persuade me to buy it.'
'Men in your position need to look smart. Whatever would they think if you went on telly with a ginger tweed suit on? Right country bumpkin that would make you look.'
'When I ordered that tweed outfit you said it would make me look like a country squire.'
'Well it does, but the telly people wouldn't see it like that would they?' Sheila concentrated on her nail varnish. One stroke down the middle of the nail and then one each side. This pale apricot would look splendid with her new dress. She couldn't wait to put it on. She'd never bought anything in Thorns & Curtis before, but one did have to set standards in the village. So easy to let things slide. The clothes that Caroline Harris wore, considering she was only a rector's wife, were unbelievably beautiful. Still, she had been a doctor all those years so she must have earned a lot of money in the past. And she did have style. Those twins, though, they must be hard work. Hardly any sleep at all some nights. They were lovely babies. Amazing how like Peter the little boy was. They say that about adopted children, how they start to resemble their new parents as they get older. But they must only be about eight weeks old at the most. Wonder what Harriet Charter-Plackett will wear tonight. Another of her Sloane Street creations no doubt. Still, wait till they see me in my outfit.
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Sheila got up from the dressing table now her nails were dry and took the dress out of the wardrobe. She had little pot pourri bags hanging from each coat hanger to keep her clothes fresh. She bought them from a local girl who made anything and everything, edged with lace. Sheila was always popping in for something. One of her best customers she was. The dress was made of lime-green flowered brocade with a pleated peplum around the back which went flat as it came over the hips and across her stomach. It had a stand-up collar with large revers which crossed over just below where her cleavage began. Either side of the collar below her collar bones was a neat design of pearls sewn around the shape of one of the brocade flowers. She'd seen Ron look askance when she'd tried it on in the shop. She knew he didn't like her to display herself, but the dress was so right she couldn't resist.
She laid it on the quilted white satin bedspread and slipped offher neglige revealing a dumpy figure clothed in a Marks & Spencer slightly-too-tight underslip. Whe
n the dress was on, she turned this way and that inspecting herself in the mirrors on her wall-to-wall wardrobes. Yes, it was just right for the occasion, and just right for church in the summer, too. She'd make their heads turn. They were all beginning to accept that she was the lady of the village now. Her flower arranging and her organisation of the Village Flower Show had given her a real solid position in village life. They couldn't manage without her in Turnham Malpas now, no siree. Her black strappy high heels were uncomfortable but they'd soon wear in.
'You're ready too soon Sheila.' Ron yawned.
'I know. I thought I'd go and sit downstairs and give my shoes a chance to wear in a bit. There's a nice programme on the telly I can watch.'
'I wanted to see the sport.'
'Well, you watch it up here and I'll go downstairs. I'll
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spoil my dress if I lie on the bed.'
Sheila let the dogs into the garden seeing as she and Ron would be out for a long time at the reception. That Pericles was a right card. Seemed to really enjoy being able to race about instead of being all stiff and starchy with that prim Miss Hipkin. She made their dinners for them and then installed herself in the sitting room. All the cushions on the beige Dralon three-piece had shiny curly fringes and huge embossed flowers in the centre. The arms were thick and solid and never failed to give Sheila a thrill when she looked at them. Perhaps they were a bit on the big side for an old cottage, but even so they added a real touch of class.
On the mantelpiece above the inglenook fireplace stood the wedding invitation card. 'Sir Ronald and Lady Bissett' it read. Sheila ran her fingers along the embossed lettering and smiled with pride. They'd come a long way she and Ron. She switched on the telly and got out a box of Newberry fruits. She didn't rest her head against the cushion in case she ruffled her strawberry-blonde hair. She'd had the roots done only a week ago so it was looking its best. Hope this reception was worth all the trouble, she thought as her eyes began closing.
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Chapter 3
By six o'clock that evening there was a steady stream of people heading for Henderson's Tearoom and Restaurant. Many of the guests lived so close they were able to walk to the reception. Most joined up with others and chatted and laughed their way through the village. Two of the guests walked alone. In the dark they were barely discernible and in their black coats and hats they appeared to the fanciful eye to be ghostly wraiths wending their way to some macabre feast. In fact they were Gwen and Beryl Baxter who'd lived in the village at number two all their lives. As children in the village school they'd always been considered odd, but in later years their oddities had become more pronounced. They rarely spoke to anyone and certainly no one could remember ever having been inside their house. If their windows were anything to go by, the habituees of The Royal Oak opposite guessed the house must be filthy. They were right. It was. Only Gwen went out and that was to the Store for food. Tonight the two of them were making one of their rare sorties out into the world.
They bumped into Peter and Caroline as they pushed their way through the restaurant door.
'Good evening to you both. How nice to see you.' Peter's hand, extended to shake theirs, was ignored.
'Isn't it lovely having a village party for Ralph and
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Muriel?' Caroline tried. There was no reply.
'You go in first, ladies,' Peter suggested. He and Caroline followed them in.
Caroline looked up at him. 'Will mother be able to cope do you think? I'm so worried about Alex's runny nose/
'My darling girl, your mother has had four children and she is a doctor and so is your father. Just be thankful they were free to come to stay, otherwise we wouldn't be here at all. Anyway, they've only got two minutes' walk to find us, haven't they?'
'Yes, you're right. I must make myself enjoy this evening. What I'd really like to do is go home and sleep all night without a break. That's the best present anyone could give me at the moment.'
'Evening Rector. Evening Dr Harris.'
'Left them two babies, Dr Harris? Hope they're in good 'ands!'
Peter and Caroline acknowledged the greetings. It was obvious the villagers were hell bent on enjoying themselves. Peter took his wife's arm and gently guided her through the crowd into the bright lights of the restaurant. Jimbo and Harriet had decorated the two rooms with pale turquoise and white flowers, and streamers complemented by silver garlands and bells. The food was already laid out on the tables, and an enormous three-tier wedding cake stood on a table by itself surrounded by a circlet of delicate white blooms.
Ralph and Muriel stood in the entrance greeting their guests. Muriel reached up to kiss Peter. 'Thank you, Peter, for conducting such a lovely service this morning. Ralph and I did enjoy it. You said all the right things.'
'I was only too delighted to take the service for you. My best wishes to you both. I know you'll be very happy.'
Caroline kissed Ralph and then Muriel. 'I do hope you
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will, no, I'm sure you will, both be as happy as Peter and I. I couldn't wish anyone anything better than that.'
'Thank you Caroline, I'm so glad you were able to leave your two little ones and join us all.' Ralph leant forward and kissed Caroline on both cheeks.
'Give my love to Australia won't you Ralph? I was there for three months one summer when I was at university. I grew quite fond of the place.'
'Caroline, we shall be delighted to do just that. Come now, help yourselves to a Buck's Fizz and go and join in the fun.'
'Peter, don't they both look happy?'
'They certainly do. Now my girl, drink that Buck's Fizz and then another one and you'll be in just the right mood for a party.'
The party was in full swing, the band playing, the people dancing, the food rapidly disappearing when the door opened and in carne Sir Ronald and Lady Bissett at full tilt and exceedingly flustered. Full of apologies they searched for Ralph and Muriel.
'We're so sorry we're late. We didn't realise how the time was going. Congratulations to you both. So nice for you at your time of life to have such a lovely sending off. Ron . . . aid could you pass me a drink please?'
Sheila and Ronald circulated, Sheila feeling she must make everyone feel at home. It was difficult for village people to know how to mix and make small talk. One had to do one's bit to make things go with a swing. She waved delightedly at Caroline, deep down experiencing that dreadful inadequate feeling when she saw Caroline's beautiful midnight blue floating creation. She might have known her dress would have been superb.
It was their misfortune to come face to face with Jimbo and Harriet, and Ron's drink spilled a little as he swerved to miss bumping into them. Harriet jumped back to avoid getting splashed.
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Jimbo couldn't resist a jibe. 'Must say you're looking better than when I saw you last. Dressed in water and pondweed he was, Harriet. To the point of indecency.'
Sir Ronald spluttered his annoyance.
'It was your Flick's damned cats as you well know. Sick of'em I am. Don't blame me if they don't get back home one day.'
'I've warned you about threats like that. Two cats in a garden the size of yours? What's the worry? Good for the soil I'd say.' Harriet, sensing Jimbo was brewing up for one of his big "put down" speeches, hastened to smooth ruffled feathers.
'Isn't everyone enjoying themselves tonight? I thought Muriel looked lovely at the wedding, like a ship in full sail coming into harbour.'
Sheila looked nonplussed by this flowery description of Muriel, 'Yes, I suppose so. Come Ron . . . aid I need another drink.' Sheila shepherded him, protestingly, on his way. Ron took a drink from a tray on the side and rapidly drank it down. Sheila recognised the signs.
'Don't you dare show me up by getting drunk. This is the social event of the year. I've spent a lot of money on this dress and I'm blessed if I'm going to have to go home before the party is well and truly over. We've missed quite a bit of it already with falling asle
ep.'
'It was you fell asleep, not me.'
'You could have woken me up, you knew the time all right.'
'I didn't, I was enjoying the football.'
'Just you remember we have a position to keep up. You're a national figure and they expect you to know what's what. Go and talk to Peter Harris or someone and keep well away from those two. And behave like a gentleman if you know how.' She said all this between clenched teeth and all the while smiling at anyone who came near. She'd kill him if he made a fool of himself.
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Kill him she would. If only Bianca and Brendan had been here. They would have kept their father in check. He was so proud of them both. Bianca in that new job at the bank helping small business men start up, she'd done well for herself, and Brendan with his computer business. His degree from East Anglia had been a real stepping stone for him. Admittedly it was only a third but he could still put B. A. after his name. First one either side of the family who could do that.
'Hello Lady Bissett. How are you? What would you like to drink?'
Sheila turned to find Sadie Beauchamp, Harriet Charter-Plackett's mother, offering her a tray of drinks. If there ·was anyone in the room who could make her feel small it was Sadie Beauchamp.
'Thank you, I'll have a Buck's Fizz. It is a lovely party isn't it? I understand the children are to have an entertainer when they've finished eating.'
'That's right, Punch and Judy and then a magic show. Ralph and Muriel are so thoughtful. I love your dress, where did you get it? It's rare to come across something so unusual.'
'It's from Thorns & Curtis in Culworth. I saw it on display in the window and couldn't resist it.'
