A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) (4 page)
Read A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Georgie sat down and sipped her tea, expecting that Bryn would be the one to open the conversation. But he didn’t. She heard Bel unlock the bathroom door, listened
to a car roaring up the Culworth Road. Then the deep silence of the countryside descended. Eventually she said, ‘I thought you wanted to talk.’
‘I’ve a proposition to make.’
‘Spill the beans, then.’
‘While I’ve been managing bars on the cruise liners I’ve come into contact with a lot – and I mean a lot – of Americans, Americans who travel a great deal. Many of them want to come to Europe but haven’t the know-how to make a successful job of it. They want to see the real England, what makes us tick, what makes us what we are, to get the feel of our heritage. I’ve an address book crammed with names and telephone numbers, and I’ve planned a tour, an off-the-beaten-track kind of tour. When they come to London they’ll have two or three days there doing the Tower, Buckingham Palace, a performance at the Globe Theatre et cetera, then we’ll travel to Bath, on the way …’
‘You’re not thinking of bringing them here, are you?’
‘I’m coming to that. I shan’t have them staying in the kind of hotel that can be found all over the world and they could be waking up in Hong Kong or Sydney or New York. No, that’s not for me. They’ll be staying in typically English country house hotels, hotels with ambience, ones just that bit different from the usual tourist dumps, so I thought …’
‘Yes?’
‘I thought that on their way to Bath and Stratford they could call here for lunch.’
‘Here meaning here?’ Georgie pointed to the floor to emphasise her point.
Bryn nodded. ‘That’s right, lunch here at the Royal
Oak. They could have a tour of the church, call in at the Store for souvenirs, feed Jimmy’s geese, finish off here for lunch: typical old pub, talk up the history a bit, you know the kind of thing. Perhaps even visit a cottage for some more atmosphere. What do you think? It could be a real money spinner for everyone. Us included.’
‘Us? Who’s “us”?’
‘Well, you, I mean.’
‘How many?’
‘Groups of twenty, no more than twenty-five or the exclusiveness would be lost.’
‘How often?’
‘Well, this summer I’ve got one planned for August, one for September. That’s all. But it could mushroom. They’d be here Thursday, which is never a good day for lunches in our dining room, is it?’
‘You keep making the mistake of saying “us” and “our”. It isn’t yours, Bryn. You took the money, remember, and I got the business and my name is over the door.’
‘Sorry.’ Hastily Bryn spread his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Habit, you know, you and me, a team for years, it’s hard to drop the habit.’
Georgie sat sipping her tea, thinking about his plans. Twenty-five people for lunch on a Thursday would certainly be a boost. ‘If I decided to do it, I’d have to consult Dicky first. It would have to be the same menu for everyone, I don’t think the kitchen could cope with twenty-five people all wanting serving at once with different dishes.’
‘Absolutely. Typical old English menu. Windsor soup,
steak and ale pie with home-grown vegetables, spotted dick steamed pudding with custard, coffee and liqueurs.’
‘What’s Windsor soup when it’s at home?’
‘Anything you like, just sounds impressive. Drinks, of course, would be up to them, wine, beer, whisky, whatever they wanted. These people are rich, Georgie, real rich. I’ll have them eating out of my hand. Two hours we have here, that’s all. Should be enough. What do you think?’
‘I’m too tired, Bryn, to get my mind round it, but it’s definitely an idea. The problem I see is will you have a full load each week to make it worthwhile? That will be hard, making up the groups.’
‘No sweat. I’ve got contacts you wouldn’t believe. I cultivated them, you see. Didn’t know why, then the whole idea burst into my mind and I realised the possibilities. I’ll come back in a day or two when you’ve had time to think.’
‘OK. Make it Tuesday. But you must understand’ – into Georgie’s eyes came a hard look – ‘it is strictly a business venture. I want paying before the group leaves. They’ll be escorted of course?’
‘That goes without saying. You’ll be paid on the dot and I shall be escorting for the first couple of seasons till we get the ball rolling. This tour scheme of mine could be a money spinner, personal touch and all that, and I shan’t stop at just this one tour. I intend expanding as fast as possible. Visiting prime English gardens, castle tours, you name it.’ Bryn rubbed his hands together in anticipation. ‘You and me, together we’ll show ’em.’
Georgie became caught up in his enthusiasm and allowed herself to smile. ‘Sounds good; in fact, very good.
Personal contact as you say. Now, I’ve got to get to bed. I’ll let you out.’
‘Thanks.’ They both stood up at the same time and Bryn very lightly took her arm. ‘Good to see you. I’ve lived to regret my treatment of you. I really have. Should have had more sense, not neglected you.’
Georgie stiffened and drew away from him. ‘Too late now.’ She led the way to the back door and let him out.
Bryn stepped outside and turned back to say, ‘We could still make a good team, Georgie, I can feel that old something between us. Can you not feel it?’
‘No. Goodnight. See you Tuesday.’
Bryn smiled to himself as he turned into Church Lane. He called out a cheerful friendly ‘Goodnight’ to Jimbo who was just leaving his mother’s cottage. He’d be calling at the Store tomorrow. Jimbo’d be as easy as pie to influence, him being always ready to make money, so long as it was legal.
Bryn was at the Store as soon as the morning rush of mothers from the school had finished their shopping. He gauged that around half past nine would be about the best time.
He couldn’t believe that Linda was still at the post office counter. ‘Good morning, Linda. How are you? Still here I see. Thought you’d have gone long ago.’
‘Why, Mr Fields. I wondered how long it would be before you called. How are you? My, I hardly recognise you, you’re so … brown and, well, years younger without that moustache. No need to ask how
you
are!’ She grinned ruefully from behind the grille and finally answered his question quietly. ‘I think I’ve been sacked a
total of four times now, but he always comes crawling back asking me to return, because he can’t find anyone who can do it as well as me.’
‘Watch it! The next time might be the last.’
‘Oh, don’t say that! It’s so handy being able to drop Lewis off at the childminder and come straight here. Are you wanting something?’
‘Just to see Jimbo. Is he in?’
‘I’ll give him a shout. Hold on.’ Linda unlocked the door of her cage, as she called it, and carefully locked it after her. She excused her caution by saying apologetically, ‘Can’t be too careful!’ She slipped into the back of the Store to find Jimbo.
Bryn looked round as a preliminary to his conversation with Jimbo. He preferred to be well armed before a business discussion. He noted the picture postcards of the area, especially the ones of the church and the village green, then he progressed to the jams and marmalades, remembering Jimbo had a line called ‘Harriet’s Country Cousins’ whatever. Now that would be a good line for souvenirs. The title was perfectly splendid for his needs. Of course, he’d want a percentage when the sales grew. Which they would. He picked up a beautifully evocative jar, a six-sided pot with a red-and-white gingham cover on the top and an elaborate label saying ‘Harriet’s Country Cousins’ thick-sliced Grapefruit Marmalade, made to a recipe from an old notebook found …’
‘Yes!’ Jimbo stood beside him resplendent in his striped apron and with his bow tie matching the ribbon around the crown of his straw boater. ‘What can I do for you this bright morning? You wanted to see me?’
Bryn was instantly aware of the belligerent tone of
Jimbo’s voice, so he set himself out to charm and by the time he’d finished his spiel about his rich tourists and the money that could be made, he had Jimbo eating out of his hand.
At least he thought he had, until Jimbo suddenly said, ‘And what is there in it for you, if I’m selling doodahs to your tourists?’
Bryn hesitated in order to demonstrate delicacy of feeling. ‘Well, perhaps when we get things really going you could see your way …’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked.
Jimbo said, ‘I make no promises. I’m not here to make you a rich man, you know, Bryn. Margins are tight in a set-up like this, I’ve to watch every penny.’
‘Oh, I can see that.’ Bryn gazed around Jimbo’s well-equipped, stylish set-up. ‘Margins are very tight.’ His right cheek bulged with the pressure of the tip of his tongue.
Jimbo was forced to smile. ‘I’m still not promising you a percentage of my profits on anything I sell as souvenirs. Accounting for it would be difficult.’
Bryn nodded gravely. ‘Of course, of course it would. You need to expand what you have on offer, though. Little framed pictures of the village houses. A small model of the church and perhaps the school, and of course a model of the Royal Oak. Now they would sell. Oh, yes. They would sell. Tasteful, of course.’
Stung by the implied lack of good taste on his part, Jimbo answered, ‘Absolutely.’
‘Think about what else you could sell. Once the old brains get going, who knows what we might come up with. I specially like Harriet’s jams et cetera, they would go down a bomb with the tourists.’
‘Are we to expect tourists every week?’
Bryn laughed. ‘Not to start with, but I’ve every intention of directing as much business as I can to this village.’
‘Let’s hope they thank you for it.’ Jimbo touched the brim of his boater. ‘Must get on. Be in touch. When’s the first lot?’
‘August.’
‘Right. I’ll be in touch as I said.’
Bryn extended his hand. ‘Thanks for your attention, I’m going to make sure it works. I’ve got quite a few ideas which, if they come to fruition, will put Turnham Malpas on the map. Ye olde yokel sitting by the pond, et cetera, you know the sort of thing. It’s those little touches that really make a tour.’
Jimbo shook his hand and Bryn left with a satisfied smile on his face.
‘That’s you, is it?’ Harriet asked.
The two girls shrieked with laughter. Fran asked what a yokel was and Flick told her between gasps of laughter. ‘I can just see you, Dad! Have you still got that old smocked thing, Mum, you bought in that sale? You know, the Victorian farmer’s thingy?’
‘I have. He could wear it, couldn’t he? Very authentic.’
Jimbo said, ‘Less of the mirth. What he wants us to do is expand our range of souvenirs.’
‘We haven’t got any souvenirs.’
‘We’ve got your jams and marmalades.’
‘Of course, I never thought of them in that light.’
‘We’ve got postcards.’
Harriet thought for a moment and suggested, ‘Turnham Malpas pencils with those dear little rubbers on the end.’
Flick said, ‘Framed pictures of the village.’
Fran proffered the idea of sweets in Turnham Malpas tins.
Flick scoffed at her idea. ‘Trust you to think of sweets, you’d eat all the profits.’
‘I wouldn’t, would I, Mummy?’
‘No, darling, in fact you’ve come up with a good notion there. We could also put our Belgian chocolates in Turnham Malpas tins.’
Flick was appalled at such duplicity. ‘That is outrageous. Dad, don’t let her. She mustn’t. That’s cheating.’
‘Definitely cheating.’ But he winked at Harriet, which further outraged Flick.
Fran, being too young to understand what they were meaning, asked, ‘Is there anything Flick and I could do? We’ll be off school in August. I’d like to dress up.’
‘We’ll see.’
Harriet checked her watch. ‘Come along, Fran, time you were off to bed.’
‘I really want to talk business with Daddy.’
‘You’ve talked enough. You had one of the best ideas so far, so that’s sufficient to be going on with. Move!’
Tucked up in bed, the curtains drawn against the light, Fran said, ‘Sit down to talk.’
Sensing there was something on Fran’s mind, Harriet did as she asked. ‘Two minutes, that’s all.’
‘Mummy.’
‘Yes?’
‘How can you be someone’s little girl if she’s not your tummy-mummy?’
‘First, you’re not worrying about yourself, are you? Because, let it be clearly understood, I am your tummy-mummy.’
‘I know that because Flick remembers me being born in the hospital car park.’
‘They look after someone else’s baby.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So is that what happened to Beth and Alex?’
‘Yes, because Caroline isn’t able to have babies.’
‘So whose tummy did they grow in, then?’
‘Someone’s who couldn’t look after them and gave them away to Caroline and Peter when they were tiny, tiny babies, because they thought it was for the best.’
‘Did you know them?’
‘I knew them when they were tiny.’
‘No. I mean did you know their real mummy? I wonder who she is. Beth wants to know. I thought you might be able to tell her.’
‘Fran, it’s something very personal for Caroline and Peter, and I honestly think you shouldn’t get involved. It’s for them to tell her, believe me.’
‘Beth keeps on and on about it. Every time I see her. She’s asked loads of girls.’
‘It really isn’t any of our business.’
Fran turned over on to her side, closed her eyes and said, ‘I think you know, but you won’t tell me. It’s not fair. Goodnight.’
‘It’s not my secret.’
‘I shall tell Beth to ask Caroline.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. You’ll mind your own business. Goodnight. I mean what I say. It’s all too private.’
‘Mm.’
Just as Harriet left her bedroom Fran called out, ‘Teaspoons with a tiny church on the end. How about that for an idea? Or doorstops made out of wood with one of Jimmy’s geese painted on.’
‘Fran! I’ll tell Daddy, but switch off now, please.’
Harriet found Jimbo in his study doing rapid sums on his calculator. ‘I wish you’d never mentioned this idea just before Fran went to bed. Her head’s full of souvenirs. She’ll never settle and you know how much she needs her sleep.’
Jimbo looked up, lost in thought. ‘I know this idea of Bryn’s is only a possibility. It may or may not work depending, but we do get lots of other visitors from all over the place so whatever we decide on could be a year-round line. Why on earth I haven’t thought of it before I don’t know.’
‘Teaspoons and doorstops she’s come up with now. Heaven alone knows what she’ll have thought of by morning.’
‘She’s a true daughter of mine, is Fran. I’ll put those on the list. In the scheme of things this is only a small matter, but every penny counts. I tell you who’d be good for the doorstops: Vince Jones. He’s a wizard with wood, remember?’
‘And for framing the pictures. But has it occurred to you that you haven’t spoken to the Jones family since Mrs
Jones went steaming through the Store casting all before her?’
Jimbo laid down the calculator and leaned back in his chair. ‘Ah! I’m getting carried away here.’
‘I also remember all the cursing you did about the Jones family when their Terry and Kenny had to disappear quick sharp before the police caught up with them, or worse, those gangsters. Think of the outlay for all these things! The returns could be quite slow and we’ve no guarantee that Bryn’s idea of tourists would work.’
‘Agreed, but … the idea grips me and if an idea grips me then most often it turns out to be a good one. I’m going to play around with it, see what comes up. Doesn’t cost much to have two hundred pencils embossed with Turnham Malpas Store, does it? You’re not listening to me.’
‘No, you’re right, I’m not. I’m off to see Peter and Caroline.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Beth is obssessed with where she came from. They’ve always known, the two of them, that Caroline isn’t their mother but that Peter is their father, but now apparently she wants to know the rest and those two should do something about it.’
‘They’ll deal with it when the time is ripe.’
‘It’s ripe now, believe me. Fran says Beth’s asking everyone at school and before long some child is going to spill the beans.’
‘Harriet, is this wise?’
‘I’m going. Won’t be long.’
Jimbo stood up. ‘Please, think about it.’
‘I’m
going
. I won’t have Fran getting all upset, it’s not
right. What’s more, the whole situation means I can’t tell my own daughter the truth and that’s certainly not right.’
‘Very well, but tread very carefully, please.’
Hand on heart Harriet answered, ‘I am the soul of discretion.’
Peter came to the door when she knocked at the Rectory. ‘Hello, Harriet, come in. If it’s Caroline you want to see she’s out, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, it was both of you, but maybe on second thoughts I’m quite glad it’s you on your own.’
‘Had we better go into my study?’
‘All right, then, yes.’
Peter opened the door for her and she went in and flopped down in an easy chair. Peter sat at his desk and waited for her to speak. She was struck as always by his commanding presence – his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his fresh complexion and thick reddish-blond hair – he was very handsome in any woman’s eyes. But his penetrating blue eyes made him intimidating, for they seemed to see straight through you, and it felt as though all your smallest and most unworthy thoughts were exposed to his scrutiny.
‘Peter, I have a problem. Well, at least it’s not my problem, it’s yours and I don’t quite know how to phrase it.’
‘Mine? What are we talking about?’
‘Your Beth and Alex.’
‘Have they been misbehaving?’
‘No. Never. They’re always well-mannered and never any trouble. No, it’s not that.’
Peter waited a moment, then said, ‘Well?’
Harriet thought it must have been at least a whole minute before Peter replied but of course it wasn’t, it was seconds. ‘I see. She’s never said anything to us about it.’
‘Well, it will be difficult for her, very difficult for them both, won’t it? They won’t want to hurt Caroline for they love her so, but they ought to be told, because it’s causing Beth such anguish. Fran tells me she’s asking everyone if their mother is their real one, hoping, I expect, to find someone else who’s been adopted so she can compare notes or something. But what’s made me come tonight is the fact that Fran asked me who their real mother is. And I don’t like not being able to tell the truth to my children.’
‘We shouldn’t have made it so you can’t be straight with your children. I’m deeply sorry about that. Obviously the moment we’ve avoided thinking about has come at last.’
‘I know they know Caroline isn’t their real mother, but I think if you told them the whole truth they’d be able to face it at their age. It doesn’t mean they will want to go charging off to find … Suzy … does it?’
Peter got up and went to stand at the window. ‘She longs to see them.’
Harriet was glad they weren’t face to face or he would
have seen the shock written there. She’d no idea they’d been in touch since Suzy left the village.
‘That was long ago when she came to visit Michael while she thought we were on holiday. I told her, no, I couldn’t allow it both for Caroline’s sake and for her own. Her conceiving my children was one moment of shame, my shame, which I shall carry with me to the grave. Yet from it Caroline and I were blessed with the children we both needed.’ Peter gave a huge sigh. ‘It was Caroline who asked Suzy if we could have the children, you know. And when she told me what she’d done I said no. Caroline said, “I see. So we can adopt children we know nothing of but you won’t let me adopt your own flesh and blood.” She told me Suzy wanted us to have the twins as soon as they arrived, because Suzy wouldn’t allow herself to see the children as they were being born in case she weakened. Such courage.’
Peter turned from the window, his eyes full of tears. ‘I saw her immediately after the birth, you know; her pain at relinquishing them to Caroline and me was terrible to witness. But she knew she couldn’t keep them, a widow with three little girls already, it would have been impossible for her. Yet she was so brave … she even asked me for my blessing. Can you believe that?’
Harriet shook her head, too emotional to speak, grateful he was looking anywhere but at her.
‘When Caroline told me that Suzy wanted us to have the children and I’d said no, I told her I couldn’t face looking at them every day and being reminded of my shame. I considered only myself with never a thought for what I’d done to
her
. I threw all her love and self-sacrifice
back in her face. I have never met such forgiveness in a human being either before or since.’
‘Peter! Should you be telling me all this?’
He shook his head but carried on to say, ‘How Caroline coped with what I did, I shall never know.’
‘So Suzy wasn’t the only one to be brave.’
‘Indeed not.’ He paused for a moment, then his head came up and he looked her straight in the face. ‘Thank you for telling me, Harriet, I appreciate it. I’ve always been intensely grateful for the way the village has kept our secret. Deeply appreciative.’
Harriet stood up, crying inside herself, longing to get away. ‘I’ll go now I’ve said my piece. It was only in your best interests and the children’s. I hope you’ll forgive me for speaking out.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. God bless you, Harriet.’
‘If anyone mentions anything to you from this conversation it won’t be me who’s told them.’
She left Peter to his heartbreak, made her escape, and went home to Jimbo and the no-nonsense world in which the two of them lived.
But stupidly the first thing she did when she saw Jimbo still working at his desk was to fling her arms round him and weep. ‘Darling! Oh, God! You wouldn’t believe.’
‘Harriet! Were they angry with you? Tell me. Here, sit on my knee.’ He gripped her tightly and let the tears run their course. ‘Here, look! A clean handkerchief. Wipe your face and tell your Jimbo.’ He wiped it for her and hugged her tight. ‘I did say don’t go.’
‘I know but I’m glad I did.’
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’