A Village Feud (3 page)

She put a hand to her forehead, full of shame. To a rector, too. She wouldn’t have said that to Peter had he been lodging with her. Oh, no. She’d have said, ‘Leave it with me, I’ll see to them, off you go.’ What was it about Anna which angered her so much? It was only the little things really, although there was that time when Anna had left a ball point pen on the carpet and it had bled an intense cloud-shaped patch of black ink, which showed up something cruel on her cream carpet. That couldn’t be described as little considering how much it cost for that specialist to get it out. Still Anna did offer to pay him herself. Foolishly, she had refused her offer and then, when she found out how much it would cost, regretted her kindness. But that was nothing compared to the row they’d had this morning. All the little niggles had surfaced one after another and by the time she’d finished Katharine was exhausted and Anna on the verge of tears.

Pacing about her tiny kitchen, she had said, ‘I wouldn’t mind if you kept the kitchen tidy but you don’t. I do the meals for the two of us so what it is you do to make such a mess I really can’t think. Well,’ Grandmama had drawn in a deep breath, ‘you stay here and I shall go to Jimbo’s. He’s got plenty of room now there’s only Fran at home, and I’ll leave you to live here. It’s by far the simplest solution. I’ll be gone when you get back. Make sure you have your key.’

Anna was appalled. ‘I can’t be put in the position of turning you out of your own home. Please, don’t go. I’ll go.’

‘And where exactly will you go, eh? There’s not many people I can think of who would feel comfortable living with a rector.’

Now Anna felt like an alien from outer space. ‘You’re right, there aren’t.’

‘Therefore
I
will go. There’s nothing more to be said.’ Grandmama had flung herself up the stairs, steaming with temper and not daring to say another word because she knew she would go clean over the top and she had her reputation to think about. She was so out of breath when she got to the top of the stairs she couldn’t have spoken a word to save her life.

Anyway, she’d gone and done it and here she was, bowed but not beaten. She opened the wardrobe door and realized there weren’t nearly enough hangers. She called over the banisters, ‘Harriet! Have you any coat-hangers, dear, there certainly are not enough in here.’

‘I’ll get you some more. Just a minute.’

Harriet, clutching a bundle of hangers she’d unearthed in Fin’s room, found Katherine sitting on the end of Fergus’s bed, looking like a puppet whose puppeteer had let go of her strings.

‘Look, here we are. If that isn’t enough I’ll get some more. I see you’ve put your trinkets on that shelf. They look nice on there.’

‘Hardly trinkets, my dear. They’re my collection of very good solid silver snuff boxes I’ve collected over the years. Couldn’t leave them in the house or they might end up in one of the Reverend Anna’s jumble sales. See this one? George the Fourth. Look at the inside – as new, silver gilt. Isn’t it beautiful? Mint condition. My absolute delight. I’m sure he actually owned this it’s so exceptional. They’re worth a fortune now. I’m leaving them to the children. There’ll be two each and I hope they realize how lucky they are.’

‘I’m sure they will, they’re certainly very beautiful. Lunch at one? Must get on.’

‘Of course, don’t let me put you out, Harriet.’ She paused for a moment and then burst out with, ‘Harriet! I must tell someone. What’s finally put the cat amongst the pigeons is that when I wanted to air the sheets I found every shelf in the airing cupboard with a jumper lying flat drying out. I couldn’t put a thing in there. It really was infuriating. When I cheerily asked her when the airing cupboard would be free she said sorry but she had two more jumpers waiting to go in and it would probably be tomorrow before I could use it. No thought whatsoever for me and my affairs. Anyway she got chilly sheets for her bed but I couldn’t help it. Could I? Very inconsiderate she is. Very. And if that harridan comes again to see me I shall be out. Right!’

The harridan was sitting in Peter’s study at the Rectory, head in hands, wondering how to resolve the situation of her absent landlady. She’d tried her best to be accommodating but obviously not accommodating enough for Katherine. She’d been so grateful of an offer of a room when Peter, Caroline and the twins came home so unexpectedly from Africa that she never gave a thought as to how difficult it might be to get along with her. After all, they had both thought it would be a matter of days before she, Anna locum rector, would be back at the Abbey in Culworth, but Peter’s decision to return to Africa on his own had turned everyone’s world topsy-turvy. She had tried to be a reasonable guest, but Katherine always knew best. Had all the answers. Didn’t know how to conduct a reasoned argument. Gave way on nothing at all and left her feeling as though she was scarcely out of nappies. Trouble was, they were both self-opinionated.

She guessed that the next thing would be Caroline suggesting she lived in the Rectory as well as using Peter’s study, but that wouldn’t be quite right. No, certainly not. The three of them had so many problems to sort, so many hang-ups from their dreadful experience in Africa. They’d heard from Peter only yesterday and it appeared that the uprising had been ended by vicious government intervention under pressure from the United Nations and he was thus more free than he had been to pursue his calling. Praise be. People like him were desperately needed. She dwelt for a moment on the kind of person Peter was and wished, oh, so heartily, that she had his scholarly mind, but above all his compassion.

Usually Fran was home from school in Culworth at around four-thirty and when she got home that afternoon she found her grandmother anxiously awaiting her arrival.

‘Hello, Gran, how nice.’

‘Hello, dear.’ Fran was circled by Grandmama’s arms and kissed briskly.

‘You and I are going to get on famously. You’ll see.’

Fran flung down her school bag and went straight to the kitchen to find her mother. Grandmama followed her closely. ‘We always do get on famously, don’t we? Where’s Mum?’

‘She’s popped into Culworth to collect some dry-cleaning and get her hair cut. She won’t be long. I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I’ve come to stay.’

‘Come to stay?’ Fran turned from the fridge where she was getting herself a glass of milk. She couldn’t mean it, could she? Surely not.

‘Yes, dear. I’ve had a bit of a falling out with Anna, you know, the Reverend Anna, so I decided it was best to leave her to it. Your mother said I could.’

‘I see.’ By now Fran was starting on a chocolate biscuit, her favourite, Blue Riband, and by the look of Grandmama’s face she disapproved.

‘I always have one when I get back. In fact, sometimes I have two if I’m really hungry.’

‘You know what they say, chocolate before five, spots before nine.’

‘I’m sorry, Gran, but you’ve just made that up.’

Grandmama hesitated. This was the trouble with Fran; she could see through her ruses almost before they left her lips. ‘Well, maybe I have, but girls have to be careful. Now you’re almost in your teens you won’t want to be spotty, will you? You’ll want a nice clear skin, like I’ve had all my life.’ Grandmama smoothed her cheek with her fingers. ‘See? You can’t complain at my skin, can you?’

‘No.’ The chocolate biscuit eaten, just to annoy, Fran got a second one out of the fridge and took great delight in biting into it and chewing it slowly. ‘I’m sorry, Gran, would you like one, too?’

Grandmama had to admit she fancied one. Harriet’s lunches were delicious but light and there were gnawing feelings in her insides and two hours to go to the evening meal. ‘Very well, dear. Let it be our secret.’

‘Milk, too?’

‘No, I’ll have juice, please. I’ve got to think of my figure.’

Fran deliberately eyed Grandmama from top to toe and said, ‘Of course.’

The friction between them was already evident and they’d only been in each other’s company for ten minutes. Grandmama remembered Jimbo’s ground rules and groaned silently. Still, she was the adult and Fran the child, she must remember that. ‘Homework?’

‘Yes. I’ll do it straight after this.’

‘Is it something I could help you with?’

Fran declared it wasn’t. ‘I’ll have to look on the internet to do some research.’

‘In that case I’ll leave you to it, and while you do your work I’ve some reading to catch up on.’

Fran shrugged and, picking up her school bag, went into Jimbo’s study.

‘Don’t you have your own room? To work in, I mean?’

Fran’s head appeared round the study door. ‘
He
wants me to work in here. I have my own desk.
He
enjoys me being with him.’

The emphasis on the word ‘He’ didn’t go unnoticed by Grandmama. The thought occurred to her that maybe the Reverend Anna wasn’t all that bad, but then she shuddered and remembered the times she’d lain awake from six o’clock in the morning listening to Anna’s prayers and wondered which was worse, that or Fran’s sharp tongue. But just maybe the sharp tongue was caused by her grandmother always picking on her. She knew she did, but the child always seemed to catch her on the wrong foot.

Grandmama Charter-Plackett knew she would have to tread very carefully to keep Jimbo on side. Dear Jimbo, her beloved only child. She recollected how furious she’d been when he’d said he was leaving the merchant bank and going to run a village store. ‘
A village store
?’ she’d repeated in her most disapproving voice.

But he’d been so successful, what with the Store and the outside catering and his high-class food mail order company, each enterprise so cleverly supporting the others, so dovetailed. He must be making a fortune. He needed it, though. With both the boys and Flick at Cambridge after years at public school; it must have cost him and Harriet thousands. Such a pity Fran didn’t get to Lady Wortley’s like Flick and had to make do with a comprehensive. No hope for her of Oxford or Cambridge. Such a pity.

Fran, almost as though she could read her grandmother’s mind, angrily kicked off her shoes and swore that one day, one day, she’d show Grandmama what she was capable of. She longed to go to university like the others and prove her wrong. And she would. She opened her Geography exercise book, determined to prove to Grandmama just how successful she could be.

Harriet came home to a silent house. She dumped her shopping on a chair in the kitchen and went to find her unwelcome guest. She was asleep in Jimbo’s chair, her mouth part open and snoring slightly. Harriet had to smile at how vulnerable she appeared, not the feisty lady everyone knew, but an elderly lady in need of care.

She knocked on Jimbo’s study door as she always did when Fran was working in there.

‘Come in, Mum. I’ve nearly finished.’

Harriet found Fran in high spirits.

‘Just look at that map, Mum. Isn’t it good? I’m so pleased with it.’

‘It’s beautiful, darling. You’ve drawn a map but not just a map it’s … artistic, too.’ Harriet hugged her.

‘It is, isn’t it? Mum, is Gran really staying?’

‘I’m afraid so, Fran. We’ll just have to learn to bite our tongues.’

‘I’ve nearly bitten mine off already.’

‘Your dad isn’t exactly pleased, but there we are. She is his mother and we have the room.’

‘Where’s she sleeping, then?’

‘Well, I did think of her sharing with you—’

Fran shot to her feet. ‘You didn’t, you haven’t—’

Harriet laughed. ‘Just testing.’

‘Mum!’

‘She’s in Fergus’s room. With him in New York for a year he won’t mind.’

‘Tea?’

‘Won’t take long. I’ll give you a shout.’

Harriet peeped into the sitting room and saw that Katherine was still asleep.

The delicately flavoured lamb chops served with mint sauce, braised onions, peas and potatoes au gratin revived them all. Jimbo in particular was firing on all cylinders and giving his mother a run for her money. Fran joined in too, in the kindest possible way, and altogether what could have been a disastrous meal, proved enjoyable. Maybe, thought Harriet, things were not going to be as bad as she’d expected.

But then Fran mentioned a school trip she would be going on in the spring.

‘Paris? At your age? And still only twelve? Surely, Jimbo, you’re not going to let her go.’

‘You’ve got some more news on the French front then have you, Fran?’

‘We’re staying in a girls’ boarding school in the suburbs and having an intense French week. We shall be going out on expeditions, to the shops, to museums, talking to the natives, so to speak, and having every morning, eight until one, learning French in the classroom with native French-speaking teachers. I think it’s going to be good.’

‘How many days?’

‘We travel Saturday, have Sunday to get acclimatized and then leave the next Saturday morning for home.’

Grandmama was horrified. ‘Jimbo! I insist you refuse to let her go.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s too young. She’s led far too sheltered a life to be allowed to go. What does she know about life? Nothing. Think of the girls she has to mix with, streetwise and far too well informed.’ Grandmama drained her wine glass and glared at Jimbo.