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Authors: Rebecca Shaw

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BOOK: Talk of the Village
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Chapter 15

That week Harriet and Jimbo got notification of the date for the court case. What they had dreaded confronting was about to become reality. They decided not to tell Flick until nearer the time. There seemed no point in her worrying for days before there was any need. The letter revived all their hatred of Gwen and Beryl.

The following day Harriet noticed that Gwen seemed very confused when she came in for her regular shop. Harriet got Gwen's newspaper out for her and put it ready on the counter. She watched Gwen move vaguely along the shelves and pick up a loaf of brown bread and two Chelsea buns. Then she went to the greengrocery and chose some parsnips. All the time Harriet had been in the Store she'd never seen Gwen buy parsnips. Carrots and swede yes, but not parsnips. Then Gwen went to the meat counter and selected a small pack of braising steak and a piece of pork fillet. She went back to the greengrocery and took a long time choosing two apples and two pears. Then she went to collect their two pensions. Linda came out from behind the Post Office counter and took her money and she wandered distractedly out of the store.

Harriet was very busy that day and dismissed the incident from her mind. The next day Jimbo was serving when Gwen slid into the shop and wandered around. She

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made completely different purchases from those she'd made the previous day. When Jimbo offered her her newspaper she shook her head. She paid for a portion of cheesecake, a tin of corned beef and a packet of tea and went out.

On the Monday Flick was in there after school sorting out the birthday cards. Jimbo paid her one pound a week for keeping the card display tidy. She loved doing it. The boys plagued her about the extra pound but she knew they only did so because they were jealous.

Her job that Monday was to put out loads of new cards with ages on them. They'd got really low. As she bent down to slot in the 50, 60, 70, and 80 birthday cards she smelt that peculiar smell which surrounded Gwen and Beryl. To Flick it smelt like a mixture of the boys' old football socks when they'd forgotten to ask Mummy to wash them, that awful French cheese Daddy said was like nectar and of unwashed clothes. Plus for Beryl the smell of garlic. Flick crouched down by the card displays and stayed as still as a mouse. Her breathing became rapid and that same terrible fear she had experienced in their cupboard came back and washed all over her and nearly made her wet herself. She couldn't get out without being seen so she stayed curled up, hiding her face, praying for her to go.

After she'd paid and left the shop Harriet spoke to Jimbo, 'Do you know Jimbo, Gwen is going peculiar.'

'Going peculiar? Don't you mean even more peculiar?'

'Well, yes. She has always bought exactly the same things each day of the week. But she hasn't had a tin of that dreadful Spam we keep in for her for nearly a week. Two days last week she never came in at all and now when she does she buys unusual things. I think she's finally lost her marbles.' Harriet felt Flick clutch hold of her skirt. 'Flick, you're pulling my skirt off! Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't think. Here, hold my hand tightly

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and we'll get out of here and go rustle up some food for the ravening hordes we call our menfolk.'

Harriet settled Flick on a kitchen stool and gave her the job of cutting up the cherries for a pudding she was making.

'Feeling better now, darling? I'm sorry I didn't realise you were there. You must have felt dreadful.'

'That wasn't Gwen.'

'When we go out on Satur........ What do you mean

that wasn't Gwen? They're twins, you can't tell the difference.'

'It wasn't, it was Beryl.'

'Beryl never shops.'

'She does now, that was Beryl.'

'How do you know?'

'She smells different from Gwen.'

'That's not very polite, Flick.'

'No, but she does.'

'Is that how you tell the difference?'

'Yes. Gwen is old football socks and Daddy's French cheese with unwashed clothes and Beryl is the same but with garlic as well.'

'Well, of all things! What an awful way to tell which is which.'

'I thought everybody knew them by their smell.'

'We all know they smell but no one has said anything about the smells being different. Are you absolutely sure it was Beryl?'

'Oh yes. Is that enough cherries?'

'Yes, that's plenty. In fact you can eat a few if you like.'

'I'm going to watch children's telly now.'

The following day when Beryl, or was it Gwen? went to the till to pay for her purchases, Harriet deliberately didn't ask Linda to come to take her money. Harriet asked innocently, 'Is your sister keeping well?'

Beryl looked at her, nodded and began to back out of

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the Store.

Harriet was determined to find out what was going on. 'And how are you today Miss Baxter. Keeping well?'

The dark brown eyes stared nervously at her.

'Yes.'

'It will be winter before we know where we are, won't it?'

'Yes.'

Harriet watched her hesitate and almost begin to say something but she changed her mind and fled from the shop leaving half her purchases on the counter.

'This is my moment Jimbo, I'm going after her with these things.'

'You're doing no such thing. If she wants them she can jolly well come back for them.'

'Someone's got to find out what's going on. Gwen could be lying seriously ill in there and Beryl too frightened to do anything about it. You and I pick up the phone as easy as we comb our hair, but to Beryl it's a major undertaking.'

'Have you heard what I've said Harriet? You are not going to their house!'

'You are getting far too dictatorial James Charter-Plackett, do you know that? Do this, Harriet, don't do that, Harriet, I shan't allow et cetera, et cetera. Well it won't do. I'm going.'

'Then I shall come with you. Linda can you manage for five minutes while I escort my bossy wife across the green?'

'Yes, of course I can. If you're not back in ten minutes I shall send for Inspector Proctor.'

'You do just that. Come on, Harriet, put it in one of our carriers and we'll be off, though what you expect to find I don't know.'

They set off at Jimbo's usual brisk pace. He dreaded going to their cottage, but wouldn't admit it for the

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world. His memories of that awful day when Flick was missing rose in his throat as they neared the house, and almost choked him. He found he could hardly breathe.

As they passed the front of the cottage they saw Gwen sitting bolt upright on a chair by the one window which hadn't had to be boarded up, her head resting against the high back of her chair. They waved and signalled to her to come to the door but she ignored them.

They knocked and knocked but got no reply.

'We'll put the carrier by the back door and then go,' Jimbo decided.

They went back to the Store and faced the morning rush, but at the back of Harriet's mind she kept seeing Gwen sitting so still by the window. It was all very odd.

'Half a pound of braising steak and two pork chops? Right you are Mrs Goddard. How's life in Little Derehams nowadays? Still as lively as ever?'

'We leave all the lively happenings to you in Turnham Malpas, Mr Charter-Plackett. That's why we all shop here, so we can learn the latest gossip. Apart from the fact your food's the nicest of any hereabouts, of course!'

'Thank you for that kind compliment.' Jimbo raised his boater in acknowledgement.

Mrs Goddard went out of the shop and returned immediately. 'Quick! Ring for the fire brigade, there's a cottage on fire. Look! Over there! The other side of the green!'

'It's the Baxters' cottage. Oh Look! Clouds of smoke there is.'

The customers rushed outside to see. Smoke was curling steadily up from the thatched roof and beginning to collect in a huge pall above the thatch. Harriet dashed inside to the phone and Jimbo rushed out across the green. Ron and Sheila were coming out of their house as he passed. Jimbo banged on the door of the sisters' cottage. Surely to God that wasn't Gwen still sitting in

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her chair? He peered in through the one remaining window. Oh God she was. Then he realised with horror that Gwen looked as if she might be dead. There was no smoke in that room yet, so she must have been dead before the fire. Where the hell was Beryl? Willie, Jimmy, and Peter along with Bryn from The Royal Oak had all arrived.

'We'll have to break in round the back and get them out,' Peter said urgently.

'It's too late for Gwen. She's already dead. Look.'

'Oh dear Lord, whatever next.' Peter took charge. 'Willie go and get my hose pipe from the rectory and get Caroline to fasten it to our kitchen tap. Bryn see if Sir Ralph is in and get him to fix his up too. We'll have to move quickly, at best the fire brigade won't be here for twenty minutes.' In no time at all they had two hoses struggling to keep the fire under control. 'Play it on the thatch there Bryn. That's right. Jimbo and I will go in round the back. Willie and Jimmy you come with us. That's right Ralph, pour it in through the windows. Plenty of water onto those flames.'

They pushed open the back gate and threw their combined weight into opening the door. It burst open and clouds of smoke billowed out.

'You're not going in there sir,' Willie shouted. 'The smoke'11 get you before you've gone two strides. Don't let him Jimbo.'

'Do as we say Peter, you don't go in there.'

'We must save them.'

'Gwen's already dead . . .'

'Already dead?' Willie couldn't believe what he'd heard.

'We'll pull down the boarding from one of the front windows and get in that way,' Peter shouted. They rushed round to the front of the house, getting drenched by the water from the hoses. By now a crowd had

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gathered and Bryn had organised a chain of buckets which they were filling from Jimmy and Vera's kitchen taps.

'She's sat in the window, get her out. Overcome by smoke that's what.'

'It's Beryl we're looking for. Has anyone seen her today?' They all began shouting 'Beryl. Beryl.'

Peter pulled a piece of boarding from the window. As it came away the outside air rushing in caused flames to belch out. Gwen could no longer be seen from the window.

'I'm going in.'

Willie grabbed Peter. 'Oh no, you're not, sir. Here stop him somebody.' Jimbo held Peter's other arm and refused to let go.

'You're not going in there Peter. Thank God here's the fire brigade. They'll go in with breathing apparatus.'

The firemen sized up the situation and began releasing the hoses and getting out their breathing apparatus.

'How many are we looking for?'

'Well, one sister is already dead sitting in a chair in the front room here and there should be one other sister.' Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead and took over the hose pipe from Ralph.

Two firemen named Barry and Mike were soon kitted out. They entered the blazing cottage. Those onlookers not fully occupied with the chain of buckets waited with bated breath to see who they brought out. Within moments Barry emerged carrying the body of Gwen. He laid her on the green. Peter took off his cassock and covered her with it. 'We can't find anyone else in there, are you sure they were both in?'

'Well, they hardly ever go out.'

'There's mountains of paper smouldering in there. It makes searching very difficult. One more try Mike, eh?'

'Right.' Barry and Mike disappeared again. The other

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firemen were playing their hoses into the upper windows, from which they had dragged Gwen's boards.

'There's only the old lady we've already brought out,' Mike announced when he emerged through the smoke.

The Sergeant arrived on his bike, having been contacted on his radio at a farm he was visiting.

'This is a right do this is,' he grunted. 'Have you got both of'em out?'

'We can only find one old lady and she's dead.'

'Which one is it?'

'She's under the Rector's cassock on the grass there.'

The flames had died down now but the piles of newspapers were still smouldering and clouds of smoke were pushing up into the sky. The entire village was out on the green watching. It must surely have been the most interesting day they'd had for years.

'I shall have to send for the Inspector. Can 1 borrow your phone, Rector?'

'Certainly.' The Sergeant bustled off across the road.

Georgie came across from The Royal Oak carrying a tray filled with mugs of tea. Behind her trotted Muriel, also holding a tray filled with mugs.

'You firemen get first call on the tea, and then the bucket brigade, and after that anyone else who helped,' Georgie shouted.

'Peter?'

'Caroline! What are you doing?'

'Helping. She's been dead for a few days, I'd say.'

BOOK: Talk of the Village
8.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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