A Village Feud (13 page)

‘But they were nice chaps and it does you good to show you can hold your own with your bosses, that you’re not just a yes man. I thought it went quite well. I tried my best to support you.’

Sarcastically Andy replied, ‘Your best? Emphasizing the one thing I don’t do, which is work hard. I can’t take a holiday because then I’d definitely be found out, once they’d poked about in my files while I was away.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You didn’t think.’ Andy buried his head in his hands and groaned and groaned. Jenny rearranged her shapely legs and sighed. A long deep silence followed. For ten full minutes not a word was spoken.

Finally Andy finished his shandy and stood up. ‘Let’s go home, right now. Can you do that, do you think?’ He marched out of the bar without a backward glance. Jenny followed but in her own time. Once she started doing exactly what he said there’d be no end to his demands.

Andy was already sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running when she got out there. Silently she slipped into the front passenger seat. He let in the clutch and they lurched off. She opened her mouth to remind him about his seat-belt and closed it swiftly. Serve him right if they had a bump.

But they didn’t and, as soon as they got home, he started on her. Threatening to hit her, shouting, calling her unrepeatable names, moving through the house at a furious pace, as though it wasn’t big enough to contain his anger. She’d never seen him so angry. He’d been annoyed many times, but not so deeply bitter, frustrated, furious, disappointed, let down. He was all those by turns. Finally he did hit her. Hard.

Fearful that things might get worse Jenny locked herself in the lavatory. She could hear him going round the house, taking his venom out on the furniture, anything to alleviate his temper. There was one thing, he couldn’t get into her consulting room because she always locked it as a deterrent to burglars and the key was safely on a cord round her neck, so the equipment was safe. After an hour of storming and raging everything went silent so Jenny crept out and spent the night on their lumpy sofa.

He slept late the next morning and, as Jenny had an appointment first thing waxing someone’s legs, she crept about getting breakfast and doing everything as quietly as possible so as not to disturb him. Fortunately for her he slumbered on and on and on.

Jenny ate her lunch alone watching
Neighbours
and munching on her yoghurt and fresh fruit as meticulously as she could. No good swallowing it down in chunks, she’d read somewhere, did no good at all vitamin-wise.

Best be out when he wakes, she thought, then. Picking up her purse and keys, she set off for a walk. Thirty minutes fast walking was excellent for the muscles and the heart. Why was she such a slave to health? It seemed everyone was nowadays, so why not.

Jenny timed herself by her watch; fifteen minutes out, fifteen minutes back. Should she? Well, should she? Call in at the Store and speak to Jimbo? It was so convenient to pop across to the Store for things. He had such a good stock of everything that a trip to the supermarket on the bypass felt like a waste of time. Besides, his food was so much nicer, so original and his convenience foods … well, she bunched her fingers, kissed them and said ‘Ooh là là!’

The bell pinged its warning and she was inside. ‘Jimbo about?’

‘Yes, but we have strict instructions—’

‘I know. This is for a talk.’

Jimbo hobbled through, making good use of his crutches, and crooked a beckoning finger. Jenny followed him into his office. Wow! He was cute, was Jimbo, even if a bit stocky.

‘Mr Charter-Plackett, I’ve come to plead.’

‘Well, you may but it won’t do one bit of good. You’re banned.’

Jenny held up her hands, palm forwards and admitted they were banned, but could the ban be rescinded for good behaviour?

Jimbo looked at her face. She was smiling so beautifully his masculine heart almost agreed they could, but then he remembered the ham and the cheese and said, ‘No.’

‘Not even a teeny-weeny bit of leeway?’

‘Not even a teeny-weeny bit.’

Jenny smiled again and Jimbo almost gave in. ‘It’s not you I take objection to, it’s that husband of yours. Neither the ham nor the cheese had been purchased here. He knew it – on reflection I knew it, too – but still he persisted.’

‘I know. He’s having a bad time at work and—’

‘He’s a fraudster.’

‘No, not a fraudster, more a little cheat.’ Again that smile. What is she doing married to that man when she has such a sweet personality? thought Jimbo.

‘Look. OK. You can shop in here but
not
, and I repeat
not
, your husband. Is that all right?’

‘Thank you, thank you.’ There was such warmth in her voice that Jimbo was glad he’d changed his mind about her. In her own way she was quite a charmer.

‘Fair’s, fair. Listen, it’s my mother’s birthday on Friday. Could I book her a massage, do you think?’

‘Why, of course.’ Jenny’s face lit up. ‘Eleven o’clock?’

‘Excellent. I don’t expect a discount. I’m paying full whack so give her a good going over. She’ll be thrilled. I hope this misunderstanding won’t affect how we get on with each other.’ He held out his hand. Jenny shook it, gave him that sweet smile of hers again, and disappeared to get her shopping.

Grandmama almost collapsed with horror when he told her.

‘I’m going where, did you say?’

‘To
Cottage Beauty
for a massage. It’s for your birthday, Mother. Thought it might interest you. New experience, you know. One’s never too old to experiment with new things.’

‘I most certainly shall not.’

‘But I’ve paid for it.’

‘I don’t care. I am not giving her the opportunity to benefit from something I wholeheartedly disagree with.’

Fran piped up. ‘Go on, Gran. You’ll come back a new woman.’

‘I don’t want to be a new woman, Fran. I’m quite satisfied with the old one, I mean … I mean, satisfied with how I am.’

‘Well, if I was saying no so emphatically to a birthday present, you’d say I was a very rude girl and where were my manners and compare me to angelic Flick.’ Fran primly folded her arms and waited for Grandmama’s reply, which was a long time coming.

Harriet was fit to burst trying to hold back her laughter. Talk about hoist by your own petard, Mother-in-law. Let’s see how you get out of that, she thought.

Jimbo’s eyes sparkled with amusement while he waited for her reply.

‘I do believe, Fran my dear, you have a point.’ She patted Fran’s arm with approval, ‘Thank you, Jimbo, for a wonderful idea. I shall report fully on the experience on my return. Not only that, I shall use it to do my research on how best to put a stop to her antics. Excellent idea, Jimbo, wish I’d thought of it first.’

‘Er … I have a truce with Jenny at the moment.’

His mother was appalled. ‘A truce! How could you? What form does it take?’

Rather sheepishly he admitted to allowing her to shop, but only her, not Andy.

Harriet and Grandmama both registered shock.

‘You’ve what? After all you’ve said about them.’ Harriet couldn’t believe his volte-face. ‘You turncoat, you.’

‘Jimbo! A son of mine should be above such treachery.’

Jimbo held up his hand to silence the pair of them. ‘Like I said, only Jenny, not that Andy fellow. I’ve done it now, so it’s too late to protest.’

His mother gave him a lop-sided wry kind of smile. ‘She’s charmed you, has she? I didn’t realize you were still susceptible to a pretty face.’

‘It’s not just that … I …’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, anyway, she smiled sweetly and I couldn’t say no. It’s all money in the pot. Blame it on my broken ankle. I’ve been through a lot of late, my judgement must be skewed.’

But Jimbo wasn’t nearly so philosophical when he received another poison pen letter, threatening blackmail.

Soon it was all round the village that he’d got another poison pen letter, and more than one decided on the spur of the moment to go to the pub that night to hear the latest gossip. The contents of the letter weren’t known, but that only served to increase the speculation.

‘Well, I reckon,’ said Willie, wiping the froth from his mouth on the back of his hand, and neatly placing his pint of home-brew on a beer mat, ‘it’s from someone who thinks they’ve got a hold on Jimbo.’

‘We all know that’s what poison pen letters are about, but who the blazes knows something about Jimbo that isn’t truthful and above board? He’s led a blameless life, he has, ever since he came here. Totally blameless.’ Sylvia sat back in the certain knowledge she’d said something which couldn’t be questioned.

The rest of them seated round the table nodded in agreement.

‘Absolutely, that’s very true.’

Vera Wright leaned forward and whispered, ‘
Since he came here
. Yes, exactly. Maybe it’s something that happened
before
he came to Turnham Malpas.’ She looked at each of them in turn. But they couldn’t believe that. After all, as Sylvia pointed out, he and Harriet were newcomers, so which of them had ever met him before he came to the village?

A silence fell while they studied this matter in depth. Their thoughts were interrupted by Paddy Cleary slapping Don on his back and cheerfully calling out to them all, ‘What’s the news, then? You’re all looking mighty conspiratorial.’

‘Oh, hark at him! Going to that college is bringing out the scholar in you, is it?’ mocked Willie.

‘They’re teaching me a lot but I don’t think it’s turning me into a scholar, more a son of the soil.’ He cheerfully grinned at his own wit.

Don, having one of his good days, said, ‘Good for you, Paddy, you’ll be in charge up at the Big House before long.’

‘Naw. Too much responsibility for the likes of me. Quiet life, that’s what I’m after. In any case, Michelle’s too well entrenched with that sod Fitch for me to have a chance.’

Willie had no time for Mr Fitch but even he could see the injustice of Paddy’s remark. ‘That’s not fair, Paddy, he’s had a mind to send you to college where you wouldn’t never have got without him and, what’s more, you’re enjoying it.’

Paddy acknowledged the truth of what Willie said by patting him on his back. ‘Hit the nail on the head, you have, Willie. So, what’s the topic of conversation tonight at the high table?’

Sylvia laughed. She’d always had a soft spot for Paddy, thief though he’d been. ‘Same as everyone else. Jimbo’s poison pen letter. What do you think, Paddy?’

He leaned confidentially over the table and asked, ‘Anyone taking bets?’

‘Bets? We’ve nothing to bet on.’ Sylvia smiled. ‘Trust you to think of betting on it.’

Paddy declared emphatically, ‘I guess it’s Andy Moorhouse.’

‘Andy Moorhouse?’ they all said in surprise.

‘Why, I ask yer?’ Willie scoffed. ‘We know he’s a slimy beggar, but what could he possibly have on Jimbo? He isn’t likely to have met him at afternoon tea at his mother’s, now is he?’ They all hooted with laughter at the prospect of Andy Moorhouse having tea with Grandmama Charter-Plackett.

Paddy tapped the side of his nose and leaned closer. ‘You may well laugh. I’ve no idea why or how, but just you wait and see. You’ll find I’m right. There isn’t another person living in this village as slimy as him, nor as underhand and shifty, is there?’

‘What are the odds, then?’ Don asked.

‘Don’t know yet. I’ll let you know nearer the time. Who else, eh? You have to admit he’s the likeliest customer. Must move on, it’s my turn to buy Vince and Greta a drink. Be seeing you.’ Paddy gave a cheery wave and left them to discuss his suggestion.

‘Well, he could be right, though why I don’t really know.’

‘Load of rubbish. Why on earth should it be him?’

Dottie and Beth speculated on the matter during their morning chat the following day.

‘You see, Beth, I always thought poison pen letters came about because one had a hold over the other. You know, something that had happened in the past that could be used as a lever to drag money out of someone for keeping quiet, and it goes on and on.’

‘You mean the writer knows something bad about Jimbo?’

Dottie paused a moment before she replied. Had she said too much? Hinted at a truth when it was really only speculation? Well, do I mean that? I think I do. ‘Yes, otherwise why would they expect Jimbo to pay up?’

Beth leaned forward and whispered, ‘You mean, you know what’s in the letter?’

‘Oh, no. No one does, least of all me. No, I was just thinking aloud.’

‘I can’t believe that anyone knows anything bad about Jimbo, I’ve known him all my life. He always seems to be honest and open, and he’s so kind.’

Dottie felt herself getting into deep water yet again. ‘Anyways, there’s nothing you and I can do about it. Well, I must press on.’

Later that morning Dottie was doing the bedrooms and came to Beth’s last. There was a spider which needed chasing out because Beth had said she hated spiders. It ran along her bookshelf above the bed as fast as a greyhound, with Dottie standing on the bed in hot pursuit. Then, as she swiped at it with her duster, it ran quickly up a bracket supporting the highest shelf and paraded itself triumphantly along the front edge of it very confidently, looking as if it had no intention of moving house.