Talk of the Village

by Rebecca Shaw

  'Yes I do, Mr Harris. How are you, Willie?'

  'Fine thanks Mrs Bennett.'

  'Sylvia's the name.'

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  'Right well, Sylvia then.'

  Peter offered to make coffee. But Sylvia declined his offer.

  'I shall be glad of a break thank you. I'll do it.'

  They all three sat down in front of the Aga with their coffee. Peter asked Willie how his house alterations were going on.

  'Very well indeed Rector thank you. Nearly completed they are.' The telephone rang and Peter went to answer it.

  Willie cleared his throat and asked Sylvia how the Flower Festival was going on.

  'Very well indeed. You know Lady Bissett is doing the flowers in the church hall, do you? She tried to take over the whole thing but we wouldn't let her.'

  'Sounds just like her. I was in Culworth yesterday. I see they've got a nice musical on, done by the Operatic Society, The Mikado it's called. Have you seen it?'

  'No, I never have.'

  'ljust wondered. I fancied going.'

  'Oh, I see.'

  Willie drank some more of his coffee trying to think how to phrase the big question without risking a rebuff.

  'Do you get plenty of time off while you're here?' he began casually.

  'Usually every evening. And most weekends, unless there's something special on.'

  'I see. So if you wanted to go out you could.'

  'Yes, I can and I do.'

  'So if I came up with two tickets for it you'd be free to go?'

  'Oh yes.'

  'Shall I do that then?'

  'Willie Biggs, are you asking me out?'

  Willie pondered the implications of this question and then decided that in for a penny in for a pound.

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  'Well, yes I am.'

  Peter came back in. 'Old Mrs Woods in the alms-houses in Penny Fawcett is dying and she's asking for me. I've got to go out there straight away. Tell Caroline I shan't be back for a while, will you Sylvia?'

  'Certainly Rector.'

  Til settle up with you for the plants when I get back, Willie. Next time I see you we'll have a word about clearing out the boiler house store room.'

  Bracing himself for Sylvia's answer, Willie looked up vaguely at Peter and said, 'Right sir.' Peter smiled to himself and hastened off to old Mrs Woods.

  'Very well, Willie, if that's an invitation I'm accepting.'

  'Accepting? Oh right then. I'll see about the tickets and let you know.'

  He banged down his cup by the sink said, 'Thanks for the coffee' and hurried out without a backward glance. Sylvia, washing up the cups, was bent over the sink laughing. He didn't expect a yes I bet. Well, why not? What have I got to lose? Nothing at all. And he's nice enough. Thinks I haven't noticed he's smartened himself up. Usually means a woman in tow when a bachelor smartens up. Done his house up too. Must be serious.

  After Willie had put the plants in the rectory garden he went home to admire his cottage. He'd given it a good clean and tidy up after the building work and he was almighty satisfied with it. Having done all the work he'd have to pluck up courage to ask her back after The Mikado and no mistake. Since he'd had the bathroom made and the kitchen fitted out with those units from MFI that were going for a song, he'd realised how much the new things showed up the rest of the cottage. As a result he'd acquired a new carpet, new curtains and new chairs for his little sitting room. He'd also bought some

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  house plants and special pots to put them in. Altogether home was beginning to look like one of those places he'd seen in the magazines at the dentist's when he'd been forced to go with that raging toothache; cosy but a bit special. The old stuff had gone on a bonfire in the churchyard along with a lot of other rubbish he'd kept ever since his mother had died. Sylvia wouldn't be going in the bedroom, so if he kept the door closed while she was there he could set about clearing that out in his own good time. She didn't know it, but he'd bought the tickets on the off chance when he was in Culworth yesterday. He'd call round tomorrow and tell her he'd got them. He just hoped he hadn't shown how agitated he was, he'd only to come near her and he felt like a boy of sixteen with his first love. Well, she was his first love and . . . The door bell rang. Willie went to answer it, hoping it wouldn't be Sylvia saying she'd changed her mind.

  It wasn't. It was Gwen Baxter.

  'Hello Gwen, what can I do for you? First time since I can't remember when that you've knocked on my door.'

  Gwen always spoke as though she was on the bridge of a ship during a violent storm. Willie stepped back to avoid not only the smell emanting from her but to lessen the impact of her gruff voice. 'Wouldn't be knocking now if I wasn't needing help. There's something wrong with the tank on the roof and we need help. Beryl's standing watching the bucket. It's filling up with water nearly as fast as she can empty it.'

  'What do you want me to do?'

  'Attend to it of course.'

  'I'm not a plumber, Gwen.'

  'I know that. But you could look at it for us.'

  'Well, I'll look, but I'm not promising anything.'

  She marched across to her cottage with her long strides, Willie dashing along in her wake. The stench

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  which greeted him as he walked through the back door made him feel sick. She took him into the little hallway. The shoulder-high piles of newspapers baffled him. They'd go up like tinder if ever there was a fire. He squeezed between the towering columns and followed Gwen upstairs. Every step had things stacked at each side till it was only possible to put one foot at a time on the step. Basking in the righteousness of his own recent clear out and the improvement it had made, he suggested to Gwen that she had a bonfire too.

  'A bonfire? Whatever for? We need all these things.'

  Beryl appeared at the head of the stairs carrying a heavy bucket. She waited till they got to the top and then raced downstairs as fast as she could to empty it.

  'I shall have to get in the loft, you know,' Willie told Gwen.

  'There's a trap door in the ceiling in our bedroom.' She opened the door to their room.

  'Have you got a ladder?'

  'Yes. Wait there I'll get it.'

  Willie looked round. It was not the kind of bedroom he would have liked to sleep in. His own was a prince in comparison. Every item in here needed either throwing away or a thoroughly good wash. Preferably throwing away. He began to itch, first on his ankles and then further up his legs. Oh Lord, surely they hadn't got fleas? The sooner he was out of here the better. He saw Beryl galloping up the stairs with an empty bucket. Gwen appeared with the ladder and he managed to push open the trapdoor and heave himself up into the loft. It was a burst pipe. A major joint, botched by some amateur plumber in years gone by, had opened up and water was pouring from the slit through the floor onto the landing below. He shouted down.

  'It's no good Gwen, there's a big slit in the pipe up here. I'll have to turn off the water and you'll need to get a

  .

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  proper plumber.'

  'Can't you do it?'

  'No I can't, I haven't got the right equipment.'

  Willie dropped down onto the ladder and pulled the trap door shut.

  'Where's the stop tap?'

  'Under the sink.'

  He pushed his way between the newspapers and went into the kitchen. Willie bent down and after a great deal of effort turned the tap completely off. 'It'll be a while before the water stops running. You really will have to get a plumber to come, Gwen. Use the phone in the Store.'

  'So far you've told me to have a bonfire, get rid of our belongings and now phone the plumber. Anything else you'd like to instruct me about?'

  'No. I'm only offering advice.' Beryl rushed through with another bucket and emptied it with more vigour than sense into the sink. Willie stepped out of the way just in time.

  'Well, don't offer any more and what's more don't go out and tell people about our house. What we do
under our own roof is our affair. I don't want you tittle tattling about us in The Royal Oak. I've seen you going in there.'

  'No harm in that.'

  'Drink is the devil's work and I ought to know.'

  'You mean yer father.'

  Gwen swung round and glared into his eyes from only a few inches away. He had all to do not to get his handkerchief out to hold over his nose.

  'What do you mean by that?'

  'Well, we all know what he was like, Gwen. Went home rolling drunk six nights out of seven didn't he? Be honest.'

  'What he did six nights out of seven was his affair.'

  'How your mother put up with it I don't know. She

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  was such a clean woman, always washing and scrubbing you all.'

  'You find something odd do you in her being so clean?'

  'Now, don't take on so.'

  Beryl dashed past again with another bucket.

  'Well, do you?'

  'No, I don't, it just seemed such a pity that she tried so hard and he undid it all. It must have been a relief when he died. Pity she went first. Anyway I must be off.'

  'Off to see your lady friend are you?'

  'Lady friend?'

  'Yes, Sylvia Bennett. Going out for a bit of that there 'ere. Disgusting it is. Disgusting.'

  'Later today the rector has a funeral to conduct and I am going to make sure the church is looking its best and to contact the funeral director in the absence of the rector to make sure everything is in order. And I'll thank you not to make nasty remarks about my private affairs.'

  'Affair is it now. That's why you've had your house done up. Making it nice for taking her back there. I've been watching you. I know what your evil designs are.'

  'Next time you want any help don't send for me.'

  Willie went out through the narrow opening of the back door, enraged at Gwen's dirty mind. He had a good wash in his new bathroom and as he changed his clothes discovered bites all the way up his legs. All during the funeral he had to exercise the utmost control to stop himself from scratching. He explained to Peter when the funeral party had gone.

  'Sorry, sir, if I've been behaving a bit odd during the service, but I'm afraid I must have got fleas.'

  'Fleas? Where from Willie?'

  'Gwen and Beryl Baxter's. They've got a leak and I went in to investigate it. They need a plumber but I bet they won't bother with one.'

  'Have you had to turn off the water?'

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  'Had to else that house of theirs would be flooded. Mind you, not a bad thing. It's foul, like their minds, begging your pardon Rector.'

  Td better go across and see if I can help. They can't manage without running water.'

  'I wouldn't if I were you. They'll only be abusive, sir. Not fit for your ears.'

  'Willie, I have not lived in an ivory tower all my life, I have been around a bit.'

  'Very well sir, as you please.'

  Peter tried knocking on the front door and, getting no reply, went round to the back. He knocked loudly and then did as he did at most of the village houses, he opened the door and said, 'It's Peter here from the Rectory, can I come in?'

  He pushed open the door as far as it would go and stepped in.

  'Hello, Miss Baxter, are you there?' He stepped further into the kitchen. 'Hello?'

  There was a sudden rush of feet and Beryl entered the kitchen with a carving knife held threateningly in her hand.

  'It's only me, Miss Baxter - Peter from the Rectory. It's all right.'

  'Yes?'

  'I've come to see if I can help about the leak you have. Have you rung the plumber?'

  'That's for Gwen to decide.'

  'Is she here?'

  'Yes.'

  He heard more footsteps and then Gwen burst in through the kitchen door.

  'What do you think you are doing entering our house without asking?'

  Tm sorry but I usually knock and then walk in when I

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  go visiting. In future I'll knock and wait for you to answer. I've come about you having to get Willie to turn the water off.'

  'Well, he's done it.'

  'How are you going to manage without running water?'

  'Quite well thank you.'

  'We could let you have some water from the Rectory if that would help until the plumber gets here.'

  'We don't want any favours.'

  'If you like I'll phone the plumber on your behalf and in the meantime Willie and I will bring you some water across.'

  'We do not require help from someone who professes to be a goody goody and then fornicates with his neighbour. I don't think Jesus had that in mind when he said love thy neighbour.'

  Peter had no answer to that.

  'Don't think that because we don't socialise we don't know what goes on. We have a complete view of the comings and goings of this place from our windows. Nothing goes on that we don't know about. I saw you go round to see that slut and saw how long it took you to leave. Then when we saw her getting bigger, we knew. Oh, yes we knew. Then your wife tries to cover your tracks by wanting to adopt them. What a joke. Standing by her man. Ha. No man living deserves loyalty like that. Not one of you. You're all scum. Scum, do you hear?'

  'I think it would be better if I take my leave. No person is totally perfect and I above all am aware of the fragility of both man and woman, but we can ask for forgiveness. Perhaps you need forgiveness for thinking the way you do. May God bless you both.' Peter forced open the door and left.

  'Get out, get out and don't ever come back. Fornic-ator.'

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  When he got home he went straight upstairs, undressed, showered, put fresh clothes on and went into his study and got out what Caroline called the 'parish whisky'. He poured some into a glass and sat at his desk trying to erase from his mind the evil he had just encountered. Caroline came in carrying Beth who was in her permanently happy mood. Nothing ruffled her calm.

  'They actually live in this village day in day out and their lives are so foul, Caroline, I can't believe it. How on earth can it have happened, that they turn out like that?'

  'Here, nurse your daughter for a while, she'll restore your faith in human nature. I would have thought that by now you could no longer be surprised by the infinite variety of the human condition.' Peter took Beth in his arms propped her carefully against his shoulder and rubbed his cheek on hers to remind himself that there was still something beautiful left in the world.

  'This is something much, much worse. You can feel the evil in the air. To say nothing of the smell. Don't ever call on them Caroline please. Nor let the children near them either. There's something very wrong there, believe me. Beryl came into the kitchen brandishing a carving knife.'

  'You mean holding a carving knife?'

  'No brandishing it. They must be unhinged. Completely unhinged. Apparently they watch all the comings and goings from their window and claim nothing goes on that they don't know about.'

  'Heavens above, I shall hardly dare go out.'

  'Exactly.'

  Had Peter been able to see them at that moment he would have seen them struggling to get the top off their old well. Running water had been put in when their parents bought the house on their marriage, and the old well had

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  been covered up. More than sixty years of rain and earth and neglect had wedged the lid tight. Beryl found a spade and dug away some of the earth and grass. Gwen got a steel rod from the shed and used that to prise it loose. Eventually they got the lid off and both peered in. Beryl picked up a stone and threw it down. They listened for the sound of it hitting the water.

  'I didn't hear it, did you?'

  'No. Throw another one in.'

  She did and they both heard it hit the water. In the shed they found a long piece of rope. Beryl emptied the metal rubbish bucket from under the sink and they tied the rope to the handle and dangled it down the well.

  After several attempts it came up filled wit
h water.

  Gwen grimaced.

  'I knew we didn't need a plumber. Interfering sods those men are. Go fill the kitchen sink with it and we'll let it down again.'

  Beryl put the plug in the sink and emptied the water from the bucket into it. Things were swimming around. Funny little things with lots of legs and some that wiggled along with no legs at all. And it was green.

  'Gwen, I don't think it's fit to drink.'

  'We'll boil it.'

  'There's funny things in it swimming about.'

  'We'll sieve it first.'

  'What if it makes us ill?'

  'We'll get used to it. Take this bucket full. That'll do us for today, better than tap water with all the chemicals they put in it nowadays.'

  'Well we shan't need the plumber shall we?'

  'No. We don't use much water anyway.'

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  Chapter 8

  No one realised that Gwen and Beryl had been taken ill through drinking the well water. The first day they drank it without concern, but then after that they developed serious intestinal infections which laid them low.

  It was only when Willie noticed their curtains had not been drawn back for two days that anyone decided to do something about it. Willie, Jimmy and Pat went across together. They tried the front door but couldn't get in so they went through the side gate and pushed open the back door as far as they could. Pat got her handkerchief out and covered her mouth and nose. Even Jimmy, used to a very haphazard regime in his own home, was appalled at what he saw. They called out downstairs and looked in the sitting room but there was no sign of the two sisters. Willie suggested they made their way upstairs together. They tried to push open the main bedroom door and found it almost impossible because of the newspapers piled up from floor to ceiling. They tried the next bedroom and found the two of them prostrate in bed. They had used various containers to be sick in as well as having been sick in the bed, and they lay there, two gaunt, exhausted and unconscious women in dire need of help.

  'Right Jimmy, out to the Store, dial 999 and get an ambulance. Tell them what you like but they've got to

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  get here quick.'

  'What about asking dt Harris to come while we wait? Maybe she could give 'em something to 'elp,' Pat suggested.