A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15) (13 page)

So the following night, Harry moved to his new home, which was fully equipped. It even included Sykes the dog, who’d appeared accompanied by Grandmama Charter-Plackett with his basket, his food bowls, a cardboard box full of his toys and a few days’ supply of dog food.

‘I know you didn’t know you were getting a dog too, but you would be doing me a great favour if you took him on. He’s too much for me. I only took him in because of my friendship with Jimmy. You know, this is primarily a business arrangement which helps Jimbo and also helps you. So I shall expect the rent every Friday morning through my letter box or you can pay monthly, first of the month, if you prefer.’ Grandmama Charter-Plackett was trying to weigh him up as she cocked her head to wait for the answer. Yes, like Jimbo, she was sure he was OK. Maybe Jimbo
had
made the right decision. He’d also taken the idea of the dog very well indeed.

‘Every Friday morning would be best for me. And I quite like the idea of the dog.’

‘If there’s anything missing, like a vital chair or something, let me know. I don’t think there is. I’ve thrown out masses of Jimmy’s rubbish. He was a terrible hoarder, but lovely with it.’ Her smile was sad and Harry felt sad for her though he knew, being the woman she was, he mustn’t allow her to see his sympathy.

Harry looked round the living room and felt as though he’d come home at last. ‘It all looks lovely, you’ve done a great job clearing it out. I’m sure I shall be very happy here. Thank you for your kindness.’

‘Not at all. Malcolm the milkman calls every day, but I’ve put a pint in the fridge to tide you over. Just leave a note in the empty bottle and he’ll leave whatever you need. He comes by at about eight o’clock nowadays. It used to be six, but there’s
been a big new estate built and he arrives here later because he goes there first.’ She left swiftly, as though standing in Jimmy’s old cottage was becoming too much for her. Harry finished unloading his belongings from his car, parked it at the end of the garden where Jimmy had made a hard standing for his taxi all those years ago, and went inside to settle himself in.

The TV was terrible, but he didn’t watch it much, although it would be nice to have a decent one to look at. The kitchen was marvellous. It was small, but absolutely everything he needed was packed in it. Even a tumble drier. The bathroom was minute too, but bang up to date, and the bedroom had obviously been newly kitted out because the bed linen, carpet, walls and pictures all toned with each other. It was definitely not the stuff an old bachelor would have had. Altogether it was wonderful. As for Sykes, he ambled into his basket as though he’d never been away, surveyed the living room, then curled into a comfortable ball and fell asleep. It was as if he was glad to be home.

It was almost dark when there was a knock at the door. A visitor already? Harry didn’t answer for a moment, but as he got up from the depths of the easy chair and went towards the door, the flap of the letterbox was pushed open and a voice whispered, ‘It’s me, Harry.’

And there she stood, laughing at him. He opened his arms wide and she rushed into them, kicking the door closed behind her as she grabbed him.

Sykes, startled awake by the knocking on the door, observed them kissing as though they hadn’t seen each other for weeks. Breathless, they broke apart and grinned at each other. ‘Thank you, Jimbo!’ said Venetia.

‘Thank you, Grandmama Charter-Plackett.’

‘It’s very cosy. It used to be a dump when Jimmy lived here. What’s the kitchen like?’ Venetia was hugely impressed. ‘You’ve landed on your feet, haven’t you, Harry? I’m going upstairs to
see the bathroom. I’m very particular about bathrooms.’ Harry followed her upstairs, guessing it wouldn’t only be the bathroom she’d want to see.

He was right. The bedroom got a gold star, as did the bathroom. ‘You have to admit, Grandmama has taste. This is all her doing.’

The mention of her name reminded Harry that he needed to be a little circumspect. ‘Did you walk here?’

‘Walk? Of course not. My car’s in the pub car park so no one knows where I am. Don’t worry.’ She kicked off her shoes on the landing and began undressing slowly, her eyes fixed on Harry. She made an elaborate performance of removing her clothes and Harry watched, totally fascinated.

‘We can’t waste a lovely bedroom like this, can we, Harry darling?’ She took his hand and led him in, undoing his shirt buttons as they walked. Finally, Venetia began … Then the doorbell rang.

Venetia put a finger to her lips and they stood, skin to skin, waiting. But the doorbell rang again and then someone shouted through the letterbox, just as Venetia had done.

‘Harry, it’s us! We’ve brought a pack of beer for a house-warming. Open up!’

Harry rapidly threw his clothes back on again and raced down the narrow, twisting stairs. ‘Just coming,’ he shouted.

On the doorstep stood Willie and Sylvia, Don and Vera, Maggie from next door, Paddy Cleary and Zack.

Paddy said, ‘Oh! Your shirt’s unbuttoned, you were getting ready for bed. Well, hard cheese. It’s still early and we’re coming in.’ And they did, and they didn’t leave till a quarter to eleven. They got through the twelve cans of beer with ease and did lots of laughing and leg pulling. Altogether, they had a riotous time.

Twice, Venetia decided to go down but changed her mind. By half past ten, she had all her clothes back on again as she was feeling so cold and, by the time the ones downstairs decided
they really must leave, all appetite for Harry had withered away and passion had turned to a steaming temper.

She stormed downstairs once she’d given them all a chance to disperse and said, ‘You could have got rid of them sooner.’

‘How could I? They’d have known something was up.’

‘I doubt it, they’re all thick.’

‘Not so thick as to not be suspicious of me going to bed at half past nine. I felt such a fool.’

‘You
felt a fool, what about
me
? Anyway, in another ten minutes, when the car park’s cleared, I’m going too.’

Harry ran a finger along her well-tanned forearm. ‘There’s time?’

‘Sorry, but no.’

Harry was incredibly tempted to laugh at the thought of how they’d almost been caught, but Venetia in a temper was an unknown quantity to him and he couldn’t risk it. She might never want him again and that would never do. After all, the only reason he’d taken the job with Jimbo was Venetia and how he felt about her. ‘Goodnight, then. Shall I come for a swim tomorrow after work?’

‘Can you possibly spare the time?’

‘Anything is possible where you’re concerned.’ He smiled and, ever so slightly, she began to melt. But no. She wasn’t staying.

‘See you tomorrow then.’ Venetia didn’t want to kiss him so he had to let her go.

So the following morning, Harry left on foot for the office, his swimming things in his rucksack and Sykes by his side. The morning was clear, and promised to be bright and Sykes delighted him by racing about once they’d gone through the little wicket gate in the churchyard and were crossing the estate. He was very willing to sleep under Harry’s computer desk and only occasionally went to keep an eye on the estate through the
enormous window that was Harry’s delight. The day sped by until, at two forty-five, Harry got ready to collect the money from the store and drive into Culworth to bank it. Today was his dummy run day and he had decided that, when he got back to Turnham Malpas, he’d report to Jimbo, just to make sure he’d got everything right. There was yesterday’s takings, cheques to do with events booked for the Old Barn, and cash to be taken out for paying the casual staff who weren’t included on the pay roll.

Sykes went with him to the bank and, as he behaved so impeccably, Harry decided he would take him every day. He meticulously reported back to Jimbo, going through everything to such an extent that Jimbo almost lost his rag. ‘Look, you don’t need to prove anything to me. I know what you’re doing and you know what you’re doing so it’s all OK. Go!’

Then, next on the agenda was his swim with Venetia, something he’d been looking forward to since first light. What to do about Sykes? Leave him in the car or let him run about Home Park? He decided on letting him run about. A risk, but not too much of one.

Venetia had recovered her eagerness for him. All her bad temper at last night’s disaster had obviously gone and she was as thrilling and satisfying as ever. When it was time to leave, Harry went outside to call Sykes but he didn’t appear. So he put his wet things in the car and walked about a little, calling Sykes and enjoying a closer view of the estate.

Barry, the estate joiner, met up with him down by the Old Barn. ‘Barry, you don’t happen to have seen Sykes, do you? Old Jimmy’s dog? He’s living with me in Jimmy’s cottage and I let him run about for a while but he isn’t coming when I call.’

‘We all heard about your stroke of luck. Nice little cottage for a
bachelor
. No, I haven’t seen him. Sorry.’ Barry noticed the wet hair. ‘Walk up to the big house for a swim after work, do you?’ There was a leering kind of grin on Barry’s face and
instantly Harry knew that Barry knew what was happening after the swim, and probably half the village did, too.

He decided to laugh it off by saying, ‘Sitting at a desk all day, I need to keep fit.’

‘Oh, naturally. You’re lucky to have permission. Old Fitch, who owns the estate, is very careful who he lets have the run of the place.’

Barry’s short speech was loaded with unsaid inferences but Harry ignored them and said, ‘So, you don’t happen to know any of Sykes’s favourite places, do you?’

‘Sorry, no. You’ll be all right just so long as old Fitch doesn’t see him. He doesn’t like dogs. In fact, he’d have all pet dogs annihilated if he had his way. Working dogs are OK but not pet ones. Be seeing you.’ Barry climbed into his old van with a wicked grin on his face. What he’d said about dogs was true, but he had rather exaggerated the matter. He put his foot down and powered off to the Garden House where he’d lived with Pat, her Dad and Michelle, ever since their marriage. He was bursting to tell Pat they were right in what they suspected about Venetia and her latest fella. Eventually Harry gave up the search for Sykes, deciding that perhaps he had actually gone home, having grown tired of waiting.

But Sykes wasn’t there. He knocked on Grandmama’s door but she hadn’t seen him all day. ‘He does sit in the church sometimes, he always has done. He used to belong to a vicar before Jimmy adopted him so he might have gone there. Let me know if you don’t find him, he doesn’t normally go AWOL.’

So Harry wandered across to the church, reluctant to say the least. He walked in cautiously, his sandals making not a sound on the stone floor. And there was Sykes. He was curled up asleep on a flat bit of a tomb which, apparently, was the last resting place for two long-gone members of the Templeton family. Seeing as there was no one but himself in the church, Harry decided to have a look round. He looked upwards to the
high-timbered roof and took in the regimental banners hanging tattered and torn in the roof space. He studied the wonderful stained glass window behind the altar, then stood in the pulpit pretending to be addressing a congregation until he thought he heard a noise in a side chapel. He rushed down the three steps leading up to the pulpit and went to see who was there. Peering through the rood screen he could just see Peter kneeling before the small altar making the sign of the cross and then rising to his feet.

Not him. He must avoid him at all costs. Out. Out. Out. But he was too late.

‘Hello there, Harry! Looking for Sykes? He’s been here half an hour or so, sleeping in his favourite spot.’

Harry pretended to be surprised. ‘Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was around. He’s been in the Old Barn with me all day and then, when I wanted to come home, he’d disappeared. I’ve taken him on for Mrs Charter-Plackett.’

‘So I’ve heard. How’s the job going, Harry?’

‘Absolutely fine. I’d never meant to stay, but somehow I am. I’ve been lucky.’

‘Jimbo’s a good employer. He’s been very upset about poor Ken Allardyce, as you know. Of course you never met him, but I understand that he was a lovely chap. He wouldn’t say boo to a goose but he was a genius when it came to figures.’

‘I must say, I haven’t found any mistakes in anything that he’s done. I just hope I’m as good.’ So far he’d managed not to look Peter straight in the eye but this couldn’t go on.

‘The trouble with Turnham Malpas is that it gets to you, it makes you content and you can’t get away. It happened to me.’

Harry laughed but he couldn’t think of a satisfactory response. ‘Well, better be off, get Sykes out of your way. Funny him liking to sit in church, he must enjoy the peace and quiet.’

Peter’s reply was too frank for Harry’s liking. ‘You don’t want
to sit in church though do you, Harry? Anything but, I’d guess.’ He studied Harry’s face while he waited for his reply.

Harry decided to speak the truth because he knew Peter would know if he lied. ‘Never gone to church and not likely to. No use for it. Sorry.’

‘One day, perhaps, you won’t be able to help yourself because you’ll need the church, desperately. What is it soldiers say? “There are no atheists in foxholes.” If you do need a church one day, it will be here for you, Harry.’ Peter smiled, then stroked Sykes as he passed him and left.

Harry, furious at what Peter had said, pushed Sykes off the tomb and, before he’d got his balance, gave him a shove with his foot to hurry him up. ‘Let me get out of here. Don’t you get lost in here again. Come on.’