Read Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (4 page)
‘Hi, there, Lady Templeton! How are you?’
‘Very troubled, Neville, and it’s lucky that I’ve met you. Good evening, Liz. Have you heard about Mr Fitch insisting upon digging up the hedge round Rector’s Meadow?’
‘I heard a rumour.’
‘Well, Caroline and I are organising some opposition and we thought, well, Caroline did, that as a councillor you might be able to point us in the right direction for mobilising some official support.’ Muriel put her head on one side and smiled sweetly at him. In the fading light she thought she saw a momentary glimpse of guilt in his face but then he was saying, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do, Lady Templeton. Quite out of our hands. It is his hedge, you see.’
‘Oh, I know that, but I would have thought …’
‘He is putting up a fence which will be very sympathetic to the environment, not some ghastly white plastic picket fence so …’
‘Oh I see. You know his plans then.’
Caught on the hop by this innocent-looking member of the aristocracy – and one mustn’t forget that was exactly what she was and had Sir Ralph influence? By Jove, he had – Neville stuttered a little, and then said, ‘Well, I did happen to meet him in the Conservative Club the other week and we were discussing it.’
‘Ah! I see. I’m very sorry you can’t help our campaign.’
‘Campaign?’ Neville appeared to shuffle a little uneasily.
‘Oh, yes! Caroline and I are determined he shan’t do this to our village. Whatever his reasons. We shall fight him every step of the way, and believe me, we mean it, so if you
see him … by chance … in the Conservative Club you can tell him just that. I’ll say goodnight then. Good night, Liz.’
‘Good night!’
Muriel reported her evening’s activities to Ralph, not forgetting to mention the look of guilt on Neville’s face.
Ralph muttered with disgust, ‘Our esteemed councillor is, to put it bluntly, a slimy toad.’
‘Ralph!’
‘I beg your pardon, my dear, but he is. There’s something else behind this fence business which has yet to be revealed.’
‘I shall bypass Neville and go straight to the fountain head.’
‘Who is that?’
‘I don’t know but I shall soon find out and I shall unashamedly use my title to gain access to whichever pompous, self-satisfied council official can do the trick.’
‘My word, Muriel Templeton on the warpath is someone to be reckoned with.’
‘I hope you’re not laughing at me, Ralph, because I am willing to do anything to stop that man from committing this terrible deed.’
‘Anything?’
Muriel nodded and answered, with a firm nod of her head, ‘Anything.’ After a moment’s pause she added, ‘Within reason.’
‘Morning, Tom! I like punctuality! Like the outfit, pity about the cigarette. No smoking whatsoever anywhere on the premises. Church, church hall, churchyard. Nowhere at all. Insurance, yer know.’
‘As you say, boss.’ He heeled the butt into the soft ground at his feet and stood up. ‘Nervous, you know. Sorry.’
‘That’s OK. So long as you remember. On Mondays I
always get the logbook out and see what’s what for the week. What bookings we’ve got, what grave to dig if need be, what gardening jobs there are an’ that. It’s the verger’s Bible, as yer might say. That plastic box.’ Willie pointed to the smart box lying on the bench.
Tom smiled and bent to pick it up. ‘That’s my lunch. Evie’s out today so she made it up for me. My Evie always says –’
‘Bring it with you into the vestry and leave it there. We’ll have a brew up while we study what needs to be done this week. In the winter, with no grass to cut and no gardening to do, life gets a bit easier, but in the height of summer like now it’s one body’s work keeping everywhere looking smart.’
He unlocked the side door of the church and switched on the lights. ‘And don’t think for one minute that because the Rector’s a gentleman he won’t speak out if needs be. Right shaming he can be, if things aren’t as they should be. Likes the churchyard looking neat, between every grave, all the paths, all the land not used yet, no weeds growing at the foot of the walls, no overturned urns or vases, no sunken gravestones. Well, that is except the very old ones, he doesn’t mind those, says they’ve a right to topple a bit but anything less than two hundred years ’as to be straight, like soldiers on parade. He likes the bedding plants by the lych-gate to be well weeded and colourful in the summer. I can help out with that ’cos I always have plenty growing on in my greenhouse so don’t be spending church money in garden centres …’
Tom raised a hand to silence him. ‘No need to worry about that. I grow plenty myself, and I’ve a good source for
bulbs too. Don’t you fret.’ He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. ‘Tom Nicholls knows a thing or two.’ He laughed confidingly. ‘I take two sugars in tea. Thanks.’
‘Here you are then.’ Willie handed him a mug of tea and pushed the sugar bowl across the table. He looked round the vestry for a moment, took a sip of his scalding hot tea and said, ‘Every inch of the church has to be dead clean, every statue dusted – I’ll show you the long-handled feather duster I ’ave for ’em – every inch of floor swept, every brass cleaned down each aisle, every tomb, every surface, the altar, the pulpit. You name it, you clean it or else he’ll know.’
‘The Rector or the Almighty?’ Tom laughed, till he noticed Willie’s disapproving face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean that.’
‘It’s not funny – well, to me it isn’t. I’ve watched over this church for sixteen years and I shall be on the look-out every Sunday and any other time for lapses. And don’t think I shan’t notice ’cos I shall. It may not pay well but it’s still to be done right and if you don’t want to do it right, say so, and we’ll put an end to it. I might be getting older but I’m not going blind and I’m not going daft either.’
‘I know that. I’m just surprised you’re taking early retirement. Fifty-five’s no age for retiring, not for a man with plenty of go in him.’
‘You know full well I’m a lot more than fifty-five so save your flattery for them as appreciates it.’ He turned to point to a padlocked cupboard. ‘That’s where we keep the cleaning materials. Brushes, cloths, disinfectants, polish. I polish all the woodwork once every two months. Between polishing yer dust. Carefully. When yer need more supplies
the Rector has the petty cash and he needs receipts for everything. Everything, mind.’
‘Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Show me some of the keys then.’
Willie pushed a heavy bunch of keys across the table. ‘Each one’s named. No problem there.’
Tom took it up and began to examine the keys. He queried some of Willie’s shorthand on the varying tags and then asked what the heavy ornate key with no name was for.
‘Ah! That’s for the music cupboard. It’s a spare just in case Gilbert Johns comes without his. I haven’t named it ’cos I never use it.’
‘Funny chap for a choir-master. Never seen him wear a coat even in the depth of winter, always looks half starved. Thin as a rail.’
‘Thin he may be, but he’s well looked after and he’s a first-rate choir-master.’
‘Never said he wasn’t.’
‘You don’t touch that cupboard, he knows exactly what’s in there and exactly where it is so don’t go reorganising it for ’im.’
‘I shan’t. This one? What’s it for?’
‘That’s the key to the safe.’
‘Safe?’
‘Don’t kid on yer didn’t know we had a safe. Everybody knows that. Rector bought it after we had the church silver stolen.’
‘Stolen! Who the blazes would steal from a church?’
‘A teenage girl, daughter of the licensee of the Royal Oak before Georgie. Poor girl. She met a grisly end, believe me.’
‘Before my time, that. What happened to her then?’
‘Stabbed straight through her innards with a carving knife trying to escape the police. A holy retribution.’ Willie pointed skywards and nodded knowingly.
Tom shuddered theatrically and hastily put down the key. ‘I shall need to know the combination, though.’
‘There’s two keys and they’re both needed to open it. The Rector has the other. So both of yer have to be there.’
‘Seems a big fuss for a few bits of silver.’
‘Bits of silver! Few bits of silver! Don’t let anyone hear you say that. The whole village got together to stop it all being sold. It’s a long story but, believe me, that silver’s precious to us all and you’re not a true villager if you don’t subscribe to that either. So watch your step.’
‘Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t realise.’
‘It’s not just its sale value it’s its value to the village as a whole. We’re very proud of it. Most churches have had to sell their silver to keep going but we have benefactors who make sure we don’t need to. Like Mr Fitch at the Big House, and Sir Ralph too.’
‘Of course. A real gentleman he is, is Sir Ralph. Got the common touch.’
‘Indeed. Real aristocracy. Finished?’ Tom nodded and Willie picked up his cup, opened the vestry door and threw the dregs out on to the grass. ‘Not much on this week, it being almost August. We’ll take a good look at the logbook and study it properly another day when I’ll show you how to manoeuvre things to get the best out of the bookings. For now we’ll go to the shed and get the gardening stuff out and get a move on while the weather holds.’
Willie looked at Tom and wondered what was behind the question. Somehow there seemed to be a reason he couldn’t fathom behind everything Tom asked. ‘The Rector’s wife keeps a low profile. You’ve no need to worry about her.’
‘Oh, I’m not worrying. Just wondering. Tales going about. Wish I’d been at the party after the play when old Don spilled the beans.’
Willie couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I was and, believe me, it wasn’t pretty. Never seen him drunk before. Teetotal all his life and then that exhibition. Yer could have laughed if it hadn’t been so awful.’
‘There was some truth in it, then? Her and that actor fella? It wasn’t just the beer talking?’
‘You know as much as me. Let’s get on.’
‘My Evie says …’
‘With all due respect I don’t give a damn what your Evie says, I’m being paid to work, so let’s get on.’
Tom followed him out into the sun and meekly mowed and weeded all morning. Willie couldn’t fault his application and he took orders and started the mower first time even though it was temperamental and sometimes took ten or more goes before it started, and altogether proved a willing pupil. When it got to lunchtime Tom sat on the bench ouside the boiler house and opened up Evie’s tempting packed lunch saying a bright ‘See yer later,’ to Willie as he left for home.
Half-way through his lunch Willie heard the latch lift on
the front door and Ralph calling out, ‘With Peter being away, thought I’d call to see how things went today.’
‘I’m in the sitting room.’
‘Sorry to interrupt your lunch, I won’t be a moment. I’ve seen Tom, had a word and he seems quite happy. Very appreciative of your help and advice.’
‘He’s quick to learn, I’ll say that for ’im, and he’s got the hang of the mower in no time at all. If he can keep his trap shut I think he’ll do very nicely.’
‘Keep his trap shut? He’s got to ask questions.’
Wryly Willie answered that, yes, he had, that was quite true.
‘You think he’ll be satisfactory then?’
‘Well, we’ve no choice, have we? But, yes, I think he will. I ’aven’t had an opportunity to go through the book work with him, though.’ Willie nodded at the window. ‘Got to take my chance with this good weather and get the outside work done first. Bookings for the hall could be a different matter. Money an’ that.’
‘He’s been in business for a long while, he should be
au fait
with accounts.’
‘Yes, I expect he should.’
‘Altogether then seven out of ten so far.’
Willie grinned. ‘Hit the nail on the head as Tom would say.’
Ralph stood up to go. ‘We could do with having a review of what we charge for letting the church hall. Whilst we don’t want to appear greedy, we mustn’t be running at a loss. Perhaps Tom would have some input about it.’
‘I’m sure he will. We’ll have to get the signwriter out to
alter the board outside. Verger: Thomas Nicholls, Orchid House,’ Willie sniffed derisively, ‘Stocks Row, and his telephone number.’
‘It’ll be strange not having the name Biggs on the board. How long was your father verger?’
‘Forty years almost to the day, I believe. So it’s fifty-six years there’s been a Biggs on that board. If I’d had a son he wouldn’t have wanted a job like mine, he’d have been off into Culworth or London even. The young don’t settle for jobs like mine nowadays.’
‘But do they lead happier lives?’
‘Ah!’
‘I’ll be off.’
The signwriter’s arrival two weeks later was cause for comment in the bar that same night.
As he waited for his orange juice Don said, ‘I see Willie Biggs has got his marching orders. Where is he by the way, Georgie?’
‘On holiday in Torquay. That’ll be eighty pence. Thanks, Don.’
Jimmy called out, ‘Come over and sit with me, Don, I’m lonely without Willie and Sylvia and I never see hide nor hair of your Vera nowadays. How is she by the way?’
Don slid his plump backside on to the settle opposite Jimmy and took a drink of his orange like a man reaching an oasis after a long hard slog across a desert. ‘It just fits the bill does this, sitting ’ere with an old friend in pleasant surroundings, drinking my favourite tipple. Six shifts a week I’m doing now – this is me only day off this week.’
‘Yer should be taking it easier not working harder at your age.’
‘Less of the “your age”. A man’s as young as he feels. But I have to say that night work is stopping soon once they’ve finished this big order. They’re going to be cutting right back, so I shall be working eight till five, five days a week. Shan’t know meself! I see the signwriter’s made it official. Lord Tom’s been installed.’
‘Official. I can’t fathom out why he wants it, ’im with his import-export lark, settling down to a two-bit job like verger.’
With a dead-pan face Don answered, ‘Don’t let Willie hear you say that. According to him the verger at St Thomas’s is a mainstay of the Church of England I have heard said the Archbishop consults him on theological matters from time to time.’
Jimmy looked at Don in surprise. ‘Come on, Don, be careful, yer nearly made a joke. It does my blood pressure no good at all.’
‘Did I? Perhaps I did. Grand chap is Tom. You can’t ’elp but take to him. Right laugh when you get him going. He can’t half tell some tales about the East End when he was a boy. Like another world.’
‘That’s just it, he doesn’t fit just right, does he? What’s the son of an East End barrow boy doing being verger in Turnham Malpas?’
‘Come to that, what’s Jimmy Glover Esquire, late poacher and ne’er-do-well, doing owning a taxi, eh? Jimmy?’
‘Yer right.’
Gloomily Don reflected on his life. ‘Come to think of it,
what am I doing shifting for myself with no Vera? I wouldn’t want you to think I’m missing her ’cos I’m not, I’m as happy as a sand-boy, and I don’t want her back, not if she begged me. No arguing, no nagging, only one mouth to feed … I tell you, there’s a lot to be said for the single life.’