A Village Feud (8 page)

‘Yes, please.’

When Dottie left the house her mind was in a whirl. A kaleidoscope of memories, a rainbow of colours. All the ornaments. The beautiful furniture. The sitting-room fireplace. Absolute bliss. She almost danced along the road on her way home. What luck. And to be paid well, too; it was beyond belief. Start Monday. Yes! She punched the air with her clenched fist. Roll on Monday!

This was the day when Andy Moorhouse decided to begin his campaign of ruining Jimbo. The secret thing he’d planned, turning it over and over in his mind, and the whys and the wherefores of it, had obsessed him all his waking hours. He’d sort him out for ignoring him like he’d done when he was at college. Very superior he’d been, too full of himself to even learn the names of college servants.

Andy’s cunning plan was only half-conceived when he arrived in the Store just as the mothers were coming in for vital bits and pieces before meeting their children coming out from school, that way he’d have the largest audience possible. In his hand he had a piece of Brie, which he intended using as his ammunition.

‘Mr Charter-Plackett about?’ he asked Tom in the Post Office ‘cage’.

‘He is. I’ll give him a shout.’ Tom unlocked himself and discreetly called down to the back office, ‘Gentleman to see you, Mr Charter-Plackett.’

They could hear his sturdy stride coming into the front of the Store. He cut an admirable figure this particular day. He wore his vivid red-and-white striped apron with his red-and-white striped bow-tie and the ribbon around his boater that matched it exactly.

He raised his boater in greeting and smiled cheerfully. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘This Brie. I only bought it yesterday and while I like ripe cheese this is above and beyond. Thought I ought to let you see it.’ Andy used a loud voice to make sure that above the hubbub at least some of them would hear. He held up his little parcel of cheese and began to take the wrapping off. ‘Here. Look, and I don’t need to ask you to smell it. You can’t help but smell it.’ The offending cheese was held directly under Jimbo’s nose. He backed off, took hold of the parcel and examined the wrapping paper. It was his special wrapping paper, he agreed, and the cheese was way beyond being used.

‘Very sorry about this. Do you have the receipt?’

Andy pretended to search in his jacket pockets, although he knew exactly where the receipt was, and finally came out with it. ‘Here we are. Good thing I didn’t throw it away. That’s a lesson for you, ladies, keep your receipts.’ He smiled almost triumphantly at them. At least they’d heard that bit.

Jimbo immediately did some magic with the till and, with a lot of whirring and clicking, he produced the exact amount Andy had paid for the cheese without causing chaos in his accounts. ‘That’s your money back and I’ll give you another portion of Brie to take home. I can’t be fairer than that.’

‘Well, I do appreciate this. I was looking forward to some Brie after my dinner. It’s most kind but then you need to keep your customers happy, don’t you? Thank you very much indeed, Jimbo. May I call you Jimbo?’

He could answer none other than yes. But it tasted bitter in his mouth. What was it about this man that angered him so? The creeping, crawling slug of a man that he was, with his wheedling familiarity and that something about him that made Jimbo feel he’d known him in the far distant past.

Andy knew it would be impossible to break Jimbo by returning damaged goods supposedly bought in his Store because money-wise it would mean little to Jimbo. What he was going to do was ruin his
reputation
to the point where his commercial enterprise would be on the verge of collapse. He decided to prime Jenny about what to say to everyone she met.

She was waxing her legs, however, and was paying an awful lot more attention to them than what Andy was saying. ‘Look, Andy, this is a new product for my salon. Feel how smooth that leg is. Try it!’

He dutifully smoothed a hand over her right leg and agreed it was certainly smooth. ‘So, wherever you can, bring up the subject of the quality of the produce and how Jimbo is making his living by selling low-grade fodder as top-grade food. Won’t be long before the cracks begin to appear and then I shall go in for the kill.’

Jenny looked up and grinned at him. ‘Who’re you going to kill, then? Let me know and I’ll come to watch.’

‘Sometimes I wonder about you. I’m not
killing
anybody. I mean, that’s when I shall really start crippling his business. It won’t take many more visits like the one today to drive a deep dent in his bank balance. You’ve got to sow seeds of doubt, gently but effectively.’

‘Of course you do, but don’t forget that everyone to a man thinks Jimbo’s business is absolutely excellent. It’ll take some heap of denting his bank balance to cripple him. There that’s me done, legs like silk. I’m getting the advertising board tomorrow so I shall be able to put it out by the front door and make a start. You’ll have to make yourself scarce. Can’t have a man about when I’ve ladies coming for treatments.’

‘Not even a spy-hole for me to peep through?’

She flicked a sharp blow to his cheek with the back of her hand, half in fun, half serious.

Andy leapt to his feet in protest. ‘One day you’ll clobber me once too often. Mark my words. I won’t have it.’

Jenny giggled. ‘You’ve already got it, so there.’

They began bickering like children and, before they knew it, everything was as before except Andy intended to remember the blow and use it at some future date, probably giving it back in double measure. He knew he could be like that, did Andy, given sufficient aggravation. The devious schemes of revenge when he felt slighted could bring some frightening ideas into his mind. Savage thoughts fit for no one’s mind, let alone his own, thrilled and alarmed him, and his plan to heap agony on Jimbo belonged to those deep thoughts.

Jenny got to her feet, walked across to his chair and stood in front of him, bending over so his face was only inches away. ‘Don’t ask me to help you with your devilish plans. I’m not at all keen. I want to build up a business here. That beauty shop in Culworth is a load of rubbish, so the money I got for my car when we moved here has been spent on printing a flyer to let everyone in Culworth and beyond know where I am and what I do. You just wait and see, they’ll be out of business in no time at all.’

Her eyes were staring and dark, her mouth half cruel, half laughing, and he could smell the wax from the strips she held in her hands. It nauseated him.

‘Well, then. We’ll see whose scheme comes up trumps, shall we?’

Jenny shrugged. ‘Yes, we shall. It’ll be mine. I’m determined to succeed this time. I’ve had two failures from not paying enough attention to the business. Well, it isn’t going to happen this time. I’m making it work. No more cancelling appointments because I can’t be bothered and that, see?’

She waltzed off into the kitchen to dispose of the waxing strips in the pedal bin and then she had an idea. ‘Andy! Let’s go to the pub tonight and sit in the bar for a bit, just to celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what?’

‘Me starting up business again in the front room. Go on. It’ll give me a chance to tell everyone about what I’m doing and you to … well, whatever it is you intend to do to Jimbo. But stay away from me while you do it. I don’t want my business idea tarnished by your daft schemes.’

‘In that case, yes, we will. What you calling it, this beauty idea of yours?’

‘I decided on
Cottage Cuddles
, but that could be a bit suggestive, so I thought of
Cottage Beauty
. I live in a cottage, it all takes place in a cottage and it’s all about beauty.’

‘Very good idea. Yes, I like that. I’m calling mine Jimbo’s Climbdown Package. J.C.P. Get it? Jimbo Charter-Plackett. Or it could be Jimbo’s Crucifixion Package. And it’ll be just as painful.’ He grinned maliciously.

‘You are thinking of going in to work at some stage, are you?’

‘Look, I go in, collect a few files, tell them where I’m visiting and then come home, do a bit of phoning around, shuffle the old files, add a couple of new ones with nothing inside them and I get away with it for weeks. They just never notice. Flog in a couple of times at the end of the afternoon looking as if I’ve been through the mincer and I’m home and dry.’

Jenny sighed. ‘How you can dare to do it I don’t know, and collecting unemployment benefit, too. One day they’ll catch you good and proper and it’ll serve you right.’

Full of self-justification he added for good measure. ‘I go to court a couple of times a month as well.’

‘You shouldn’t even be in the job. You forged your qualifications, you showed me. Perhaps I could tell ’em.’

‘Don’t you dare. I’ve been drawing money for months and they’ve never noticed my scam. You’ll be doing the same when you start up your beauty business. Running round to the social the minute you put the board out, are you? Tell them you don’t want any more money from them? I don’t think so.’

‘Well, perhaps not straight away. But you’ve no conscience at all, you haven’t.’

‘I know and I’m proud of it. Who needs a conscience nowadays?’ Andy laughed like drain. ‘Come on, then, let’s be off.’

‘Five minutes.’

Jenny and Andy made as noisy an entrance as was possible so that the people in the pub would have their attention drawn to the newcomers.

Andy had managed to dress properly for once, in a Fairisle pullover with a toning tie and a country checked shirt, and he’d polished his shoes. He was crafty where the psychology of the rank and file was concerned, and guessed that being well dressed in this particular village would carry much more weight than being slovenly.

Jenny had primped herself to the very last inch, just sufficiently of way-out style to impress. Andy for once had ordered the drinks and they chose a table by the huge open fireplace with its enormous wrought-iron grate and the big box of logs placed beside. The fire wasn’t lit tonight as it was a comparatively warm evening, but Jenny rather wished it was lit, being a romantic at heart.

The bar was filling up and she realized that they’d chosen about the best possible table for a full view of everyone. The two of them kept raising their glasses to the punters as they passed, and Jenny began to feel almost one of them, not understanding that it would take much more than weeks for them to be properly accepted. Some of the weekenders in the three cottages behind the Royal Oak had decided it took years, possibly even fifty, to be. But Jenny in her innocence thought they’d already made great strides in settling in.

From where she sat Jenny could watch who went up to the bar. That Jesus woman came in wearing her religious uniform, went to the bar to get herself a drink and found three different people offering to buy one for her. She graciously accepted one of the offers and sat with her benefactor. He was a very handsome elderly man with manners to match, white-haired and tanned and very gentlemanly. His wife looked to come out of the same social strata as him and altogether they made a lovely-looking pair, but she doubted they’d become clients of hers, not the right kind.

That person called Dottie Foskett she’d met in the Store earlier came by with half a pint of bitter shandy in her hand. Ah! Now she just might be interested. ‘Hello! Remember me? We met in the Store, earlier.’

Dottie stopped abruptly, almost spilling her drink. ‘Hi! There’s hardly any chairs left. Could I sit in this one by you? Do you mind me joining you?’

‘We’d be delighted. Wouldn’t we, Andy?’ Jenny gave him a sharp prod with her elbow to draw his attention.

‘Yes, yes, of course I don’t mind.’ Andy allowed a short pause while Dottie settled herself and took a sip of her drink. ‘Do you know Jimbo Charter-Placket?’

‘Who doesn’t?’

‘Does he come in here sometimes?’

‘Not often and anyway he’s got his mother staying with him at the moment so she’ll be keeping him busy.’

‘I see. Nice chap. I took some Brie back today which wasn’t quite up to snuff. He very kindly gave me my money back and replaced the Brie.’

‘Very good that way, very fair.’

‘I thought so, too, but he shouldn’t be selling cheese that’s off in the first place.’ Andy managed to look very down in the mouth about the matter.

Dottie agreed Jimbo shouldn’t. ‘Most unlike him actually. But then there’s always the first time, I suppose. You won’t have been to one of his catering events, of course, having only just arrived. His food is out of this world. The hazelnut meringues are to die for. And his cold meats, like, they have real taste, not just pink plastic blotting paper. His cricket teas! Well!’ Dottie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘If you’re in the team it’s free, if you’re a spectator then it’s five pounds and worth twice that. You don’t need no big meal that night you’re that full.’ Dottie looked into the distance as though still feeling the fullness of a Turnham Malpas cricket tea. ‘He does it elegant, like, with dash so to speak and it makes you feel a million dollars. It’s like being royalty sitting down to tea at Windsor. Mind you, the cricket’s not much cop but you can’t have everything.’

‘Obviously there’s no tainted food, then?’

Dottie was shocked. ‘Here, don’t you go round making comments like that. There couldn’t be anyone more conscious of food hygiene than Jimbo. My cousin Pat works for him, well, she’s his outside catering manager actually …,’ Dottie paused for a moment to allow her cousin’s elevated position in village life to sink in, ‘and they’re that strict you wouldn’t believe. That cheese of yours must have been a one-off.’