The Village Newcomers (20 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Shaw

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BOOK: The Village Newcomers
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Sheila raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Just the kind of thing they’ll enjoy, I bet. I don’t think it’s quite what they should be doing.’
 
‘But,’ said Evie, ‘the twins will keep up good standards. With parents like they’ve got they can’t do any other.’
 
Rather darkly Sheila remarked that she wasn’t too sure about that. Immediately everyone pricked up their ears and needles were idly poised above the tapestry . . . waiting . . .
 
‘Not sure? What do you mean?’ asked Barbara, scenting a story she could tell her neighbours when she got back home.
 
‘I was in my car going down Shepherd’s Hill with a message about the flower festival and I saw Beth and that Jake from Penny Fawcett popping into Sykes Wood. He’s that handsome boy, the one who’s always after the girls. Then, on my way back, she came racing out of the wood up the hill heading for home and she looked almighty scared. I saw her in my rear-view mirror.’
 
Dottie, her head down, employed her needle rather rapidly, desperately hoping no one would ask her anything about it. What was Beth thinking of? Still, let’s face it, she was almost seventeen and lots of girls weren’t even virgins by then . . . but Beth! That Jake was a fast one. She’d heard tales about him, but my word he was good-looking. By the time she’d come out of her shock they were discussing the ghost evening as though it were the most depraved happening anyone could imagine. She noticed that Merc stayed silent, then suddenly she burst out, ‘Don’t anyone go blaming my Ford for it. He didn’t choose where they went. Oh no! Pay for it, yes, though Mr Fitch pays for the transport . . . Oh! By the way, I have your invitations to the banquet in my bag. When we have our tea, remind me and I’ll get them out.’
 
This closed the speculation about the ghost evening, and as there were one or two sly hints that a cup of tea would be welcome, Evie gave in and made the tea and the invitations were revealed.
 
Merc fished about in her over-large bag. ‘You’ve got yours first. The others are going out by post today.’
 
If the invitations had been to a banquet at Buckingham Palace they could not have been more glorious. Fabulous, they were, gilt-edged and very stiff card with a kind of silvery white marbled effect. Big, too, and instantly the wedding anniversary celebrations became the event of the year.
 
‘Oh my God! We’ve to dress up! I shan’t know what to wear!’ Dottie quaked at the prospect of thinking up fancy dress.
 
‘Not fancy dress, Dottie,
Elizabethan
dress,’ said Merc. ‘We want it all to look genuine.’
 
Sylvia began to laugh. ‘Wasn’t that when the men wore tights? I can’t see my Willie in tights.’
 
The vision this prospect conjured up sent them into hysterics.
 
‘Nor Jimbo!’
 
‘The Rector will look stunning!’ said Dottie, and they all agreed.
 
‘What about your Ron, Sheila?’ This came from Bel, with a grin. She remembered how rotund Ron had become now he’d very little gardening to do in the house in Little Derehams.
 
Sheila had had the very same thought and was angry beyond belief at this snide remark. ‘He most likely won’t go. He’s not really into dressing up.’
 
Inside herself Sheila was bitterly disappointed. Of course he wouldn’t go, except she longed to attend more than anything in the whole world. She simply couldn’t miss it, not the social event of the year. But knowing Ron, he’d dig his heels in and there’d be endless rows. The invitation, propped up against an ornament on the mantelpiece, would look so impressive, but if they wouldn’t be going, what was the point?
 
They’d exhausted the subject of the banquet by the time their cups of tea were finished, and it was then that Dottie had her inspiration. Somehow the invitation had opened up her mind to new horizons.
 
‘Why don’t we use our winnings to go away for a girls’ weekend?’
 
‘A girls’ weekend!’
 
‘Why not? If the young ones can have a night ghost-hunting, why can’t we go away for a weekend? We’re not exactly decrepit, are we? And we’re not senile.’
 
‘No, we’re not!’
 
‘The men’ll think it funny us having money to go away.’ Dottie grinned. ‘So, like me, you haven’t let on we bet each week, then?’
 
Sheila agreed she hadn’t. Bel declared she hadn’t told her Gary, nor her brother Dicky. Barbara confessed she hadn’t told her hubby. Evie said she hadn’t mentioned a word to Tom. Vera declared she definitely hadn’t told Don. Sylvia hadn’t spilt the beans to her Willie. And Dottie said she’d not told nobody.
 
Merc spoke up. ‘If you don’t mind, I shan’t be going because we’re going to visit an old aunt of mine - on her last legs, poor thing, ready to die any minute, but you have my word that I have not said a word to anyone about the betting you’ve been doing, so your secret is safe with me.
Enjoy
, as they say.’
 
‘We can afford it, can’t we? And if we win this week as well . . .’ Barbara giggled.
 
‘We very well could,’ said Sylvia.
 
Caught up in the excitement, Barbara declared, ‘I tell you what: I could book it on my computer. I’ve done it for our holidays more than once.’
 
‘London, eh?’ Dottie suggested. ‘We might as well do it right.’
 
‘London! I second that,’ agreed Sheila, trying hard to sound very cosmopolitan, as though she frequently popped up to London for her shopping.
 
‘Oh!’ said Evie, feeling slightly shocked by the prospect.
 
But they all agreed that London it was, and no husbands allowed. With the discussion it entailed they were half an hour late packing up, and Barbara drove home that same afternoon with a list of their telephone numbers in her bag and a ceiling price for accommodation above which she must not go. She rang each of them that night. She had found a bed and breakfast package with theatre tickets thrown in for less than two hundred pounds this coming weekend. It was a special autumn offer, you see, and the hotel even had its own casino! It sounded perfect. They all agreed. Next thing was to tell their husbands. Only Dottie felt no obligation to anyone at all.
 
 
The departure of the embroidery group for London took place at 10.45 a.m. on Friday. They all squeezed into Ford’s 4x4 with much excitement, and much in the way of misgivings on the part of the husbands left behind.
 
Nobody in the 4x4 had any qualms about their adventure. After all, they had a posh afternoon tea to look forward to, as well as a leisurely stroll around the shops on the way to the theatre and
The Sound of Music
, which they were all longing to see. It might not be Julie Andrews playing Maria but they knew it would be good, and full of memories with perhaps a few tears. Then they were planning to hit the hotel casino! Saturday morning they were going to the Portobello Road market, which Dottie was particularly thrilled about as she considered herself A1 at finding bargains, then sightseeing in Westminster Abbey and St Paul’s, followed by a meal in a steak house and the cinema. Afterwards, the more daring were off to the casino again, if they’d had success the night before. They didn’t intend going to bed on Friday until 1 a.m. at the earliest. They had to be up early for their Saturday sightseeing but they didn’t care. They felt abandoned, released and
free
! Turnham Malpas had been left far behind.
 
The embroidery group agreed on the train on the way to London that they were going to have the most wonderful weekend of their lives. The nervous ones like Evie were egged on by the more carefree ones like Barbara and Dottie to actually allow themselves to
enjoy
everything instead of worrying about the time and the traffic and the milling crowds, and with encouragement they all did truly revel in the excitement of the weekend. The casino was not altogether as successful as everything else because losses were enormous compared to what they’d won on the gee-gees (with Ford’s assistance). The first night was reasonable but by the second night their heads, dizzy with all the excitement, didn’t allow them to concentrate properly. Dottie lost £40, which was a lot to her, and Sheila lost £55, which made her look over her shoulder once or twice, fearing Ron might miraculously materialise beside her.
 
The worst moment of the weekend was when Evie and Bel got separated from the others in the Portobello Road market. They’d all been together one moment and the next the pair of them were nowhere to be seen. They’d never thought to specify a meeting point in case they got lost - after all, they weren’t children - and there was an anxious twenty minutes of standing on tiptoe, peering through the crowds, until they heard Evie’s voice calling and there they both were!
 
Evie was as white as a ghost and trembling. Bel was trying hard to look calm when she very definitely wasn’t, because there were beads of sweat on her top lip. There was a unanimous vote to find somewhere for lunch to calm everyone’s nerves.
 
But even the worry of that incident didn’t mar their enjoyment of the entire weekend, and they went home on the train still buoyed up with delight at their adventure and promising to do something same-but-different in the immediate future.
 
Chapter 12
 
The embroidery group had decided that their girls’ weekend away would be well worth repeating, but the same could not be said of the youth club after their ghost hunt in the castle. They’d all been so scared that a re-run was out of the question.
 
They’d set off enthusiastically enough, though. Beth sat next to Jake on the minibus, and allowed him to hold her hand after a few minutes re-establishing their relationship after her fright. On Jake’s insistence they chose to sit on the back row, as far away from Alex as they possibly could; he was in the seat immediately behind the driver, sitting with a friend of his from school. Beth briefly felt disloyal to Alex, but the feeling didn’t last long when she remembered her frequently repeated saying that they weren’t joined at the hip.
 
‘Beth?’
 
‘Yes?’
 
‘Last time . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’
 
Beth stared out of the window. She wasn’t going to tell him the real reason for her panic. It was bad enough Alex knowing, and her mum and dad. They chatted about school and friends and films they’d seen, and before they knew it they’d arrived at the castle. It seemed to arise out of a dark mist, with turrets and battlements and softly-lit windows that were merely slits in the vast stone walls.
 
Venetia had matches and so did Kate, but they didn’t need their candles until they were well inside the castle, as the draw-bridge over the moat was lit by lamps.
 
In the great hall they were given a hot drink, which was spiced and Christmassy and very welcome. A lively castle servant gave a talk, telling them the history of the castle and the ghosts which were regularly sighted by the family and the staff. One ghost was a small child whose skeleton had been discovered during some repairs. Another apparition was an eighteenth-century man, a family member who had died in India; he’d always loved the castle and had suddenly appeared shortly after his death sitting in his favourite chair in the library, reading.
 
Almost all of them shuddered, and shuddered even more when they heard about the strange bright light which appeared from time to time on the landing, followed by Lady Emily, who, from time to time, flung herself over the banisters to her death on the floor of the great hall, as she’d done on the news of the death of her fiancé at Trafalgar on Nelson’s flagship. Her screams as she fell were often heard, even if her ghost couldn’t be seen.
 
By the time the talk had finished everyone was apprehensive. On the instruction of the castle servant, who’d worked at the castle man and boy, their candles were lit and the tour began.

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