(3/20) Storm in the Village (22 page)

Mr Mawne, who had received several vicious blows already from the swinging stone, feigned respectful surprise.

'Worthy of Leonardo da Vinci,' he assured the vicar, who glowed at the kind words.

They passed beneath the tunnel of great trees that gives Beech Green its name. The nutty autumn smell of wet leaves mingled with the rain that came through the open window. They drove in silence, occupied with their own thoughts, until the vicar stopped with a flourish at Mr Mawne's gate.

'Coming in?' asked Mr Mawne. 'Oh, I forgot! My wife's got the Ladies' Sewing Circle here, I believe.'

'Thank you, thank you, no!' said the vicar hastily. 'I must be getting back.' He rested his arms across the wheel and looked at his friend. His expression was troubled.

'What do you make of it? They had a good case, you know. Very fair, I thought, really very fair.'

Mr Mawne straightened his shoulders.

'Our turn tomorrow, with a case as good as theirs! We'll rout them, never fear. Hope and pray for the best, my dear fellow!'

'I always do that,' said the vicar simply.

There were more people than ever, next morning, willing to endure the hardship of the R.D.C.'s chairs in order to hear the case put forward by the Deputy Clerk to the County Council, who was acting counsel for the local side of the affair.

He was a large, cheerful man, with a florid complexion and a merry blue eye. His bald, pink head fringed with silky white hair, shone with health and energetic soapings. He was clad in a shepherd's plaid suit, a blue shirt and blue spotted bow-tie, and looked hearty enough to take on aU comers. Those about to be called as witnesses, and others who hoped for a reprieve for the downs, felt their spirits rise as they watched their spokesman.

He called first the County's Planning Officer who made a long and thoughtful statement about the objections to the scheme. The Planning Committee were not happy about the water supply for such a large number of people, probably used to urban life where water was more freely used. (Here a few eyebrows were lifted, as several country dwellers wondered if this might be an aspersion on their cleanliness.) The disposal of sewage was another problem. At the moment a deet of up-to-date lorries adequately coped with the present need. (Long-suffering glances were exchanged by some Fairacre folk.) But if an estate, of the size envisaged, were to be built, a sewage system on a large scale must be faced.

The roads between Caxley and other nearby towns would need to be widened, and possibly lighted, to ensure safety for the increased traffic, and he was asked by the Finance Department to state that the expense involved could not reasonably be met, even in part, from the ratepayers' pockets.

He would like to point out too, that the Planning Committee had most definite ideas for that particular site. It was an area of great beauty, scheduled as an open space, and set on canvas many times by the noted local artist Daniel Crockford. (Here a pleased hum ran round the room and Mrs Bradley thumped vigorously on the floor with her umbrella. 'Order, please,' said the Inspector mildly.)

It should be kept as an open area for ad to enjoy. An ancient road—of the Iron Age, he believed, but he was a bit hazy about this—it might be Bronze, he was open to correction—but
ancient
anyway, ran along the top of the downs, and he believed that more would be said about this by another speaker. He looked questioning^ at counsel, who nodded his pink-and-white head vigorously, and said, 'That is so! Yes!'

The Planning Officer then folded his notes and added that the Education Department had viewed the scheme with concern, especially in the light of their own commitments already undertaken for the next financial year, and that the Director of Education would give further particulars. He turned towards the Inspector, who was making notes steadily.

'I do assure the Ministry, sir, that great hardship will come if this scheme goes through. Not only financial hardship, which will be heavy enough, but in losing a well loved beauty spot to all, a valuable area of agricultural land and a certain gentleman's home for several generations. The whole balance and harmony of the two small flourishing villages will be thrown out. The repercussions on farming conditions will be serious and the social life of the present population will be hopelessly disturbed. I do earnestly beg the authority to reconsider their siting of the estate.'

He sat down, and the people stirred upon their uncomfortable chairs and felt that he had spoken well for them.

Mr Devon-Forbes, on being invited to cross-examine, intimated that he would prefer to do this at a later stage, and the second witness, the Director of Education, was called.

The proposed new school on the housing site, he said, had given rise to alarm in the area affected, and he had had several visits from both parents and managers who had expressed their very deep concern at the possible closing of local village schools. He had been able to assure them that the schools in question would not close, but that if the new school were built, Fairacre School would have a different status—becoming a school for infants only, with but one teacher.

The closing of any village school was not welcomed by the Committee any more than the parents. In this case, Fairacre School had already lost its over-elevens' to Beech Green, an adjustment not without some feeling at the time, but if ad the children of eight and over were to be taken from the village daily to the new school, which was what was envisaged, he had the greatest sympathy for the parents, managers and present staff of that admirable little school.

Apart from the humane side, the cost of the new establishment would be fabulous. He had estimates with him which would make painful reading to an audience already taxed beyond endurance. The Finance Committee had already passed plans for substantial improvements to Beech Green School, to be undertaken during the next six months, and any further expense would be out of the question.

He must stress too, he added, the importance of the two present schools to the existing communities. They were perfectly suited to the needs of the villages in question. Bodi Beech Green and Fairacre took a lively interest in their schools, pride in their children's attainments and had expressed every confidence in the educational arrangements made for them. He would be betraying their trust if he overthrew their wishes and attempted to force a comfortably working machine to a gear beyond it.

It might be as well to make one last point, went on the Director, studying his finger nails minutely. The dwellers on the new estate would doubtless be drawn from urban areas, where educational conditions were different. '
Different,
' he stressed, 'but not necessarily
better
! However, they will have seen magnificent buildings, ample stock, a formidably large staff, and ad the rest of it. For that reason alone, I am glad that they cannot, for reasons of space, send their children to Fairacre or Beech Green, for they would have made a great fuss about those two somewhat elderly buddings—and been as vociferous in their scoldings as they would have been silent about the excellent teaching and individual care possible with their relatively small classes. But even so they will bring a different standard to the area. They will want things—cinemas, a dance had, a fried-fish shop possibly, which those who have lived there all their lives have not felt necessary or even desirable. They may wed be difficult people to digest into the slowly grinding system of village life, and I fear that they will not add to the sum of happiness which already exists there. They may cause resentment with their larger pay-packets. They may be bored with the sort of social life that a village can offer. They will be neither flesh, fowl, nor good red herring, but just a lost tribe on a lost, once-lovely hid. In my opinion, it would be better for the authority to make several smaller estates on the outskirts of existing towns, such as this one, where the children can take advantage of the present schools, and they and their parents can be assimilated into a way of fife to which they are more accustomed.'

There was a considerable amount of throat-clearing and whispering as the Director resumed his seat. The room was growing very dark, as black clouds gathered outside, and the air grew uncomfortably close. The enquiry continued, the chairs grew harder, and it was with a feeling of general relief that they saw the inspector glance at the clock, rise, and say, 'We will adjourn now for lunch, ladies and gentlemen.'

The vicar and Mr Mawne made their way to 'The Buttery' which stands conveniently near the R.D.C.'s offices.

A blast of hot air met them as they pushed their way against the heavy door.

'Beastly stuffy!' muttered Mr Mawne, undoing his coat and slinging it over the back of a pseudo oak settee. 'Hope there's something cold to eat.' He put his hand on the radiator beside the table, withdrew it with a regrettable exclamation, which the vicar affected not to hear, and called to a waitress 'to open a window and let in a bit of air.'

The vicar was studying the menu.

'Could you eat haricot mutton?' he asked.

'Good God, no!' exclaimed Mr Mawne, shuddering. 'Nothing hot, for pity's sake!'

'Then I fear it must be ham and salad,' said the vicar.

'Suits me,' said Mr Mawne. 'And an iced lager. For you too?'

'Yes, yes! Admirable!' agreed the vicar. 'It ready is uncommonly close. Almost like thunder. Amazing in October.'

'Kept warmish most of the year,' answered his friend. 'The swallows were particularly late migrating this season. Ah! Here it comes!' He attacked his ham with relish, and neither spoke until he had finished.

But while the vicar ate a coffee ice, and Mr Mawne crunched celery with his biscuit and cheese, they turned to the business of the morning.

'A great deal of good sense spoken,' said the vicar. 'I wonder who is still to come?'

'The Ag. man,' said Mr Mawne elegantly, 'to ted us that that particular field is like gold-dust to the nation agriculturally. Then we're bound to get some old fogey for an hour or two about that prehistoric road along the top.'

'Heavens!' said the vicar, in some alarm. 'Do you think it might drag on till tomorrow? I've an early communion service and two churchings.'

'Never can tell!' said Mr Mawne, rummaging in his pocket for some money. 'Come on. We'd better be getting back.'

As it happened, old Mr Miller was the next to put his case, or rather, Mr Lovejoy, his much-tried solicitor, did his best, by judicious questioning of his client, to set Mr Miller's various losses before the Inspector. He had an uphill job. It had taken him twenty minutes to make his points about material losses in crops, and hard cash, and the depreciation of Mr Miller's remaining property if this estate were to be built, and he was flagging a little. Mr Miller, seated by him, looked about with button-bright eyes. He had missed his usual nap, but he was still fighting fit.

Mr Lovejoy had already given a heart-rending account of his frail client being wrested from his birthplace and tottering sorrowfully towards his grave, leaving a homeless family behind him. Mr Miller had listened with barely concealed impatience, drumming on his knee in a way which his solicitor found peculiarly tiresome. He took a deep breath and embarked on the last part of his case.

'Is it any wonder?' he asked, 'that my client's health has given way, his appetite has gone, and he can no longer get about as he did?'

'Fiddlesticks!' rejoined the crusty old gentleman, rising to his feet. 'I've just ate a partridge, drunk a pint of porter, and walked to "The Blackbird" and back, my boy!'

Mr Lovejoy did his best to retrieve the situation, amidst some laughter.

'As you can see, my client is a courageous man, as full of spirit as he is full of years. But, I can assure you, and his doctor can testify, if need be, that he is not the same man since the shadow of this project fell across his birthright!' He gave a polite bow and put a solicitous hand under Mr Miller's elbow, much to that gentleman's annoyance. Together they resumed their seats.

The 'Ag. Man,' as Mr Mawne had so euphoniously called the officer of the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, spoke next, and if he did not actually mention gold-dust he certainly made it clear that this was indeed a valuable agricultural area, farmed intensively by an enlightened owner who kept the land in good heart, and was a national asset. It would be a crime to see it built upon. He was sure too, that taking the long view, the budding of a new town in this agricultural area would create a great deal of unemployment troubles for the farmers, already harassed by the shift to the towns of their erstwhile farm workers. It would be an unsettling influence for all concerned. He agreed with the Director of Education that these people would be better placed near the existing towns.

Outside, the rumbling of thunder made itself heard above the steady drone of the traffic in Caxley High Street. The room was so dim that the lights had to be switched on, and despite the open windows the room was oppressively hot. The list of speakers, lying before the inspector, gradually shortened as the afternoon wore on.