The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (16 page)

‘Now then, Jimmy, what’s this?’

‘A rounders bat, Sergeant. Found it hid behind the Methodist Chapel in that long grass that never gets cut. I’ve handled it careful, like, on account of there being blood on it, like they does on the telly.’

‘And what were you doing messing about behind the chapel? Not you been stealing the Scout money, is it?’

‘I don’t steal from the church. That’s lower than low, that is. I was wandering along enjoying the sunshine and decided to sit down on that low wall that’s all that’s left of the old boiler-house. There it was, tucked down in the corner. Thought your men had searched every inch?’

‘I liked that Toria Clark. She allus had a kind word for me, which is more than some people I could mention. If this is what killed her, perhaps it’ll help you find who did it.’

‘What’s that hidden in your coat, Jimmy?’

‘Never you mind. I’m off.’

‘Hope you haven’t been poaching, old son?’

‘I have not.’ Jimmy was indignant but could not meet his eye. The sergeant laughed. He hadn’t been the village bobby for twenty years without knowing about Jimmy Glover’s noctural activities.

The rounders bat proved to be the murder weapon all right, but there were no fingerprints on it. Mr Palmer had checked the rounders bats on the night of the murder but had forgotten that Toria had brought her own to school until the office had supplied a spare. That had meant there were two in the stock book but three on the premises.

This find supplied the regulars of The Royal Oak with further fuel for their small talk.

‘Here, Betty, you heard Jimmy’s found the murder weapon?’

‘Yes I have, Willie. Just wish them lazy beggars ’ud find the murderer. We pays their wages, it’s time they got off their backsides and earned ’em instead of catching me for speeding last week.’

‘Local? For heaven’s sake, Willie, don’t put the wind up us all.’

‘Stands to reason. If you never went to the village school, how would you know where to lay your hands on a rounders bat? Especially if you were worked up.’

‘Just think, there’s someone here in this village who might be coming into this bar night after night and they’ve got that on their conscience. They might strike again.’

‘Well, Betty, you’d better not make too many enemies. Yer never know, it might be you next.’

Jimmy Glover laughed at the prospect. ‘Fat chance they’d have of killing Betty. It’d take more than a rounders bat to see her off.’

‘Here you, Jimmy, just mind yer manners or I’ll turf you out.’

The bar burst into corporate laughter. ‘Watch out, Jimmy. She’ll be clasping you to her bosom next and out you’ll go.’

‘Cor, it’d be worth it, though, eh?’ someone well out of Betty’s reach shouted.

The door opened and everyone’s attention was taken by the man who entered.

Jimmy shouted, ‘Well, if it isn’t Ralphie! I’d heard you were about. How do you do, Ralphie, remember me?’

Ralph held out his hand in greeting. ‘Why, it’s Jimmy Glover! How are you, Jimmy? I’d know you anywhere.’

‘I’m fine, how are you?’

‘In the pink. What are you drinking?’

‘Best bitter. Thank you.’

‘Best bitter and a double whisky, please, landlord.’

Mac attended to his order and welcomed Ralph to the bar. ‘I hear you’re thinking of coming to live in the village, sir?’

Jimmy’s head jerked up. ‘Eh, what was that?’

‘Only joking, Jimmy. Come and sit over here and we’ll talk about old times.’ They sat at the corner table Ralph had chosen and enjoyed an hour’s chat. The rest of the bar marvelled at the sight of smelly Jimmy being made a fuss of by such a personage as the son of a past Lord of the Manor.

Finally, Ralph rose to go. ‘I’m off to see if Muriel will come in for a drink, Jimmy. I’d ask you to join us if you were a bit, shall we say – tidier? I’ll be back shortly.’

Muriel answered the knock at the door wearing an old jumper and skirt she’d put on to do her gardening earlier in the day.

‘Oh dear, I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

‘I’ve come to ask you to join me in a drink at The Royal Oak. How about it, Moo?’

‘I’ve never been in the bar before. I don’t really think I could, anyway I’m not dressed properly. I’ve got my old gardening skirt on.’

‘Well, pop upstairs and get changed. I’ll wait here.’

‘Shall I? Perhaps another night.’

‘Don’t turn down the chance of an hour on the tiles. Please come.’

‘Very well then. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Ralph stood as she came down the little spiral staircase.

‘Come along then, we’ll give the bar a big surprise.’

He chatted to her as they strolled through the village, knowing full well she was feeling apprehensive. Sure enough, the company fell silent as they walked in through the door. Miss Hipkin in the pub, whatever next? Jimmy had disappeared.

Muriel allowed Ralph to choose where to sit, and what she should drink.

‘’Evening, Muriel.’ ‘’Evening, Miss Hipkin.’ She nodded to them all, hoping she wasn’t as red in the face as she felt. Why did she never have the courage to face new situations?

Ralph put her Snowball down on the little mat and sat beside her. ‘You have nothing to fear, you know. You’re with me and I have been in bars all over the world so I know what’s what.’

‘Have you really been all over the world, Ralphie?’

‘Not far off. You get sent to all the worst places when you first start in the Foreign Office and then once you’ve proved yourself and you have a few strokes of luck, like being in the right place at the right time, you find yourself in the better places. Rome was my favourite, I think.’

‘Have you been to Rome? Oh, I would love to go there! I always feel it’s larger than life.’

‘That’s a good way of describing it. “Larger than life” – yes, I like that.’

Sharon came into the bar, having been press-ganged by her mother into clearing the tables. She went round languidly picking up empty glasses and limply wiping up any spills.

She queezed between the tables and stopped by theirs. ‘Finished, ’ave yer?’

Ralph looked up at her. ‘Neither Miss Hipkin nor I have finished, as you can well see.’

‘All right, all right, keep your shirt on, only trying to help. Surprise seeing you in the bar, Muriel. First time in yer life, I reckon.’

Ralph showed his anger by snapping, ‘Miss Hipkin to you, if you don’t mind, young lady,’

‘Miss Hipkin then,
Sir
Ralph. She’ll need more than a Snowball to get her going, yer know. A stiff whisky would do better.’

‘That’s quite enough of that.’ Ralph stood up to assert his authority. ‘Kindly leave us alone.’

‘OK, OK. Just giving you some advice, Ralphie.’ She turned away with a flick of her pert bottom.

Muriel wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

Ralph ordered, ‘Drink up, we’re leaving.’

He took her arm and as they reached the door he turned to Mac who was behind the bar and said, loudly enough for everyone to hear: ‘Landlord, that girl who collects the glasses needs her manners attending to. See to it or I shall not patronise your bar again. Good night to you.’

‘Ralphie, I don’t know how you dared to speak like that!’

‘She was extremely rude.’

‘She’s their daughter.’

‘I don’t care whose daughter she is, Moo, she was rude to you and to me. It simply won’t do, I’m not accustomed to it. I’ll see you to your cottage and then I’ll be on my way.’

Pericles growled and barked but Ralph patted him and made a fuss and Pericles allowed him in. He wasn’t used to male company and felt Muriel needed defending.

They sat drinking coffee and talking until nearly midnight. Ralph had such an easy way with him, and to her surprise Muriel found herself to be quite an interesting person.

As he left Ralph said, ‘I’m renting Derek and Bunny’s cottage for six months, possibly a year, while they’re in South Africa. They leave on Tuesday and I’m moving in on Thursday. Perhaps you would be so kind as to have a meal with me one evening when I get settled?’

‘I should like that, thank you.’

‘Good. Moo, be very careful of that girl Sharon. There’s something not quite right about her.’

‘Sharon McDonald? She’s very rude and outspoken, but she’s all right really.’

‘You’re too kind. Just mark my words.’ Ralph took both her hands and very tentatively kissed her on her lips.

‘Good night, my dear. You are one of the few real ladies left in this world, do you know that?’

Muriel closed the door and stood with her back leaning on it. She felt the same thrill that a girl in her teens would have felt at her first kiss. She’d been kissed in Postman’s Knock at Sunday School parties in her early teens but never by a grown man. Now she felt she knew something at least of what that kiss she’d witnessed between Harriet and Jimbo must have felt like. Well, just a little maybe, because Ralph’s hadn’t lasted very long.

On the Wednesday before the Thursday that Ralph moved into number three, Muriel was sitting at her ‘seat of custom’ as she jokingly called it in her mind. She’d not been very busy but then it was market day in Culworth. She was contemplating asking Jimbo to run off a few new menus, as some of the ones in use at the moment were beginning to look tatty and she did like to have nice clean menus for everybody, when the door opened and in walked Sharon. Did she never work? Muriel thought to herself.

The girl was wearing her usual high heels and skin-tight short skirt. She trotted over to a table. Her peroxided hair had taken on an orange tinge and she wore lipstick and blusher to match. Her Walkman was plugged into her ears.

‘Hello,
Miss Hipkin
. A coffee and a slice of chocolate gâteau if you please.’

Muriel had just shown three customers to a table and settled them with a menu when Sharon shouted: ‘Oh, look, Miss Hipkin! There’s smoke.’

Muriel looked out of the window cautiously; she anticipated that Sharon was playing a joke on her. But sure enough there was smoke billowing into the sky. They must be having a bonfire, though it seemed the wrong time of year.

Sharon leapt to her feet. ‘I’m off to see where it is. Get ready to phone the fire brigade.’

She dropped her Walkman on the table and rushed out towards The Royal Oak. Muriel could see her standing in Stocks Row looking up behind the pub.

She came racing back. ‘Ring the fire brigade! It’s one of the cottages belonging to them London people. It’s got a right hold. Hurry up!’

‘Oh dear, what do I say?’ Muriel dropped the phone in her agitation.

‘Here, give it to me.’ Sharon dialled 999 and asked for Fire. She gave the address and explained what had happened. ‘Cool and calm in a crisis’ were the words which sprang to Muriel’s mind. How glad she was, that Sharon had been there. She would have been incoherent if she’d had to phone.