Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) (27 page)

Jimbo nodded.

‘Well, I was that short-handed for staff you wouldn’t believe. All planned for and then one by one they began ringing up, saying they couldn’t make it. I was desperate. In fact I was on the verge of ringing you to say we couldn’t do it. First time ever I’d have let you down and I couldn’t stand it. In the nick of time, Linda Crimble rang and said she was wanting some work and did I have anything. It sounded like an answer to a prayer. So . . . I
took her on. I knew I shouldn’t, but things were getting to the catastrophe stage. I almost rang you up about it but didn’t and thought it would just be the once. Well, she proved to be excellent. Polite, eager to help, remembered what people had asked her for, didn’t get fussed. Couldn’t have asked for better. And she could handle the rowdy ones. You know what those rugby reunions can get like, but she fended them off as polite as you please. So . . . I gave her some more work when Bet went sick.’

‘But you knew—’

‘I know I did. But I didn’t want to let you down. However, she’s flouting your rules about the staff taking home leftover food right left and centre. I suspected she was taking food home and I caught her last night at the Royal Naval Association do, putting a whole dish of Jubilee Chicken aside and then telling the clients there was none left. I whisked it out on to the buffet and saw her looking for it when we’d finished, but I never said a word.’

‘I see.’

‘So, I’ve got to sack her.’ Pat looked up at him, dreading his agreement.

‘Just how good is she?’

‘Excellent. She’s kind of found her niche. Very reliable and pleasant, and she looks immaculate. Hair always tidy and make-up well done. I’ve no complaints about the way she works, except she’s stealing. It’s not just leftover bits you see, like a couple of individual desserts or something, which you don’t mind, them being no use to anyone.’

‘Has it been explained to her?’

Pat nodded. ‘Of course. It’s so difficult when she’s a
friend, kind of, ’cos she lives in the village and we all know her.’

‘Send her in to see me. Now, let’s get down to the catering diary for next month. Ready?’

They sorted out the engagements for the following month amicably enough, but Pat left feeling like a traitor.

When Pat rang to say Jimbo wanted to speak to her, Linda felt sick at heart, and her voice shook as she agreed to see him that morning. She guessed what it was about – the Jubilee Chicken that had mysteriously found its way back on to the buffet table. It would have been just right for those friends of hers coming for a buffet lunch the following day and would have saved her a mint of money. But she hadn’t taken it, had she? Only tried to. But then there was that big dish of cold roast beef, which had done them for dinner three times. Then, as she brushed her hair, she remembered the sherry trifle, which had been the most beautiful she’d ever tasted. Her Alan had loved it. If only she could cook like that. Her hand shook so much when she was putting her lipstick on that she had to wipe it off. Maybe she would look better without it today, more serious.

Jimbo was at the front of the Store talking to a rep when she went in. He nodded to her and said, ‘See you in the back office.’

It was a full ten minutes before he put in an appearance, by which time Linda’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t even run her tongue over her front teeth to unstick them from the insides of her mouth.

‘You wanted to see me, Pat said.’

‘That’s right.’

She braced herself for the biggest ticking off of her life. Instead Jimbo said, ‘Pat tells me you’re making a really good fist of waitressing. Smart, bright, polite, keen. I’m happy to hear it. She says it seems as though you’ve found your niche.’

Linda flushed bright red, and sweat began to run down between her shoulder blades. ‘Oh! Yes, well, I love it. You really see life when you’re waitressing. The tales you hear; I could write a book!’

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. She wonders if you’d like to be taken on permanently?’ Jimbo couldn’t believe he’d said that.

Linda’s eyes opened wide. Why was the conversation not going the way she’d expected? Obviously Pat hadn’t noticed her taking things. Mentally Linda rubbed her hands together with glee. ‘Well, yes, I would like to be permanent.’

‘Good.’ Jimbo offered his hand to seal the deal. ‘I’ll tell Pat. Be seeing you.’

Linda said good morning and thank you and turned to leave, filled with relief. As her hand closed on the door handle, Jimbo added, ‘Of course, it all depends on you not thieving from me.’

Linda felt as though she’d been cast from stone. Still holding the door handle, she became aware again of the sweat running down between her shoulder blades and yet now she was chilled to the marrow. ‘Oh!’

‘I don’t mind a couple of leftover salmon mousses, or a few mushroom vol-au-vents, or some bread rolls that wouldn’t be any use the following day, but a whole Jubilee Chicken, I classify that as theft.’

‘I didn’t take it.’

‘I know. Pat knows her job, Linda. She has eyes at the back of her head; that’s why I employ her. She only has to catch you once more and I shall prosecute.’

Linda swung away from the door, more angry with him than she could ever remember. ‘Prosecute? Me?’

‘Oh yes. Definitely.’

‘You’d be laughed out of court.’

‘Would I indeed?’

‘All over
one dish
?’

‘All over one
huge
, catering-size dish, completely untouched. I might not win, but you’d be discredited and rightly so. Still want the job?’

She did. She’d no alternative. ‘Yes, and I shan’t take anything, anything at all. Never again. I promise.’

Jimbo smiled. ‘Good. Then we both know where we stand. You’re very lucky I’ve taken you on. You’ve Pat to thank for that. So mind your Ps and Qs.’

‘Right. Thanks. Good morning.’ Her legs were trembling as she walked back into the Store. There was a lively babble of conversation going on but Linda couldn’t decipher a word; she had to grab hold of the corner of the fruit and vegetable display to steady herself. He was a devil, that Jimbo. An absolute devil. He’d known all the time. Prosecute! He wouldn’t dare! But she had a sneaking suspicion he would. He was a typical businessman who had no thought for his employees. As the moment passed, she saw Maggie Dobbs and went across to have a word.

‘You didn’t mean it about no more,’ she nudged Maggie with her elbow, ‘you know, evenings? I was really frightened. Anyway, Don isn’t dead, is he? Someone was saying he’s coming round fine, at last.’

Maggie turned to look at her. Her face had lost all its colour. ‘I said no more and I mean it.’

‘No need to be like that. We pay yer, don’t we?’

‘If you see any of the others tell them it’s over. Maggie Dobbs has had enough.’

‘Oh, come on, don’t be daft. We all like it. Can’t say enjoy, but we do like it.’ She shuddered. ‘Gives us such a thrill. Bet
you
had a thrill prancing into the Rectory in your nightgown. You knew exactly where to go; straight to the most handsome man in the village. I’m shocked! Anyway, you’ll miss the money. Wish I could earn thirty pounds in an hour. Great. See yer Friday.’

‘How many times do I have to say it before it sinks in? Eh? I’m not doing it no more. Full stop.’

Linda folded her arms and, blocking Maggie’s way to the chill counter, said, ‘Well, we shall all turn up, believe me. With our five pounds at the ready. So you’ll have to.’ She rubbed the fingers and thumb of her right hand directly under Maggie’s nose and pursed her lips mockingly.

‘I’m not! I’m not!’ Maggie dropped her wire basket and fled for the exit. Emitting hoarse shrieks, she flung the door open wide and rushed out down Stocks Row. Linda was livid. The silly cow! Well, she’d show her come Friday night.

By Friday night Linda had contacted everyone to let them know that Maggie was holding a seance, despite what she’d said at the last one. She was there early, and at ten minutes to nine she rattled at Maggie’s door. When there was no reply, she tried opening it. Everyone in the village was somewhat lax about locking their doors and she fully
expected that Maggie’s door would open when she lifted the latch. But it didn’t. The curtains were drawn, but then they always were when they had a seance. She waited a few moments and then spotted the Senior sisters coming along Church Lane. They came slowly, huddled together as though afraid. Honestly, with their black headscarves, they looked like two refugees from one of those old Second World War films on telly that her Alan liked to watch ’cos of his grandad.

Linda waved enthusiastically and the two of them peered quickly over their shoulders to check if anyone had seen her waving. They each gave a discreet acknowledgement of her greeting and then scurried towards her.

In stage whispers they asked, ‘Is there really one tonight?’

‘Is it on then?’

Linda nodded. ‘I can’t get a reply though. Knock on the window, Miss Senior, and see if she’s there.’

The two of them knocked timidly and waited.

‘She won’t hear that! Here, give it a good knock like this.’ Linda rapped loudly on the glass three times. But there was no reply.

Venetia came, then Greta Jones. ‘Good evening. Isn’t she in?’

The Senior sisters shook their heads.

‘Well,’ said Venetia, ‘she did say she wouldn’t. I was surprised when you said she was, Linda.’

Mrs Jones asked Venetia about Jeremy.

‘Thanks for asking, he’s much better at the moment. Gave us another scare a couple of days ago, but he’s hoping to be out by next weekend. Fingers crossed.’ She
crossed all her fingers and held them up, smiling, Mrs Jones thought, a little too bravely.

They stood huddled in a group at the door, whispering together a while longer. They felt conspicuous and Venetia and Mrs Jones wanted to go home. ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Linda. ‘Let’s go round the back. She has a gate on to the Green. We’ll get in that way.’

She led the way round the back, opened the bolt on the little gate and marched up the back garden path. Before she knocked, Linda peered in the kitchen window, shading her eyes to see better. ‘There’s no one there. No one at all.’

‘Saw her Thursday and thought she didn’t look too good.’ Mrs Jones looked in the window but could only see the tidy kitchen, still looking as fresh and beautiful as the day Don Wright had modernized it. ‘It’s funny, hope she’s all right.’

Linda tried the door but it was also locked. ‘She hasn’t gone into Culworth because there’s no bus after seven for her to come back. I wonder where she is?’

Venetia declared she was going home, and Mrs Jones agreed. ‘So am I. She said she didn’t want one so obviously she doesn’t. Goodnight.’

Venetia hooked her arm in Mrs Jones’s. ‘I’ll walk with you. I left the car by the school. Would you like a lift?’

They went, leaving the Senior sisters and Linda standing in the garden. Linda rattled on the door again, tried the handle. ‘She’s in there, I’m sure. I’m going to force the door.’

‘You mustn’t.’

‘No, no, no.’

‘I am.’ To justify her actions she added, ‘She might be
ill, needing help.’ She looked round the garden for some instrument with which to force the lock and found what had been Dave’s trowel for his window boxes in the old flat. Linda rammed the pointed end at the door frame by the lock and with several almighty heaves sprang the door open. There was an horrendous cracking of wood as the frame gave way, which made the Senior sisters tremble with fear.

‘You shouldn’t have, Linda.’

‘Right, come on.’ Linda led the way in, stepping quietly and listening for some sound of Maggie. Tabitha fled between their legs and out through the back door and under the shed. It startled Linda and for a split second she almost changed her mind, but somehow the thought of Jimbo allowing her to work for him knowing she’d stolen had empowered her that day and she marched to the foot of the stairs.

‘Maggie? You there?’

Maggie had heard everything. Every single word. At first she’d been sitting on the bottom stair where she knew they couldn’t see her, but when they’d come round the back, she’d quietly crept upstairs and got into the wardrobe. She’d managed to get the door almost closed and was crouched down among the shoes, desperately trying to stop herself from wailing. She was so afraid. It was stifling in there and she didn’t know how long she could hide before she suffocated. She could clearly hear footsteps coming up the stairs but didn’t know how many of them there were. It sounded like the whole of her seance group, if not the entire Culworth Constabulary.

When they got in the bedroom, she heard Linda’s voice. Whoever else was there remained silent.

‘Well, she doesn’t appear to be here, does she? I can’t say I like her bedspread. Candlewick! I mean. Nasty pink, too. They went out with the ark. Ooh! Just look at them crocheted mats, they match the bedspread. Aren’t they awful? She’s got no taste.’

Maggie could hear her heading for the bathroom. ‘Look at this! My God, it’s far too good for a pokey old house like this. A shower as well.’ She could hear them having a practice pull on the shower curtain, heard someone turn on a tap. Her home. Her sacred home. Her beautiful bathroom. No one had a right. Moving very, very slowly, Maggie stood up among her clothes, pushed them aside and reached out in the pitch black for Dave’s golfing clubs, which she hadn’t been able to part with, propped in the far corner of the wardrobe. She slipped a club out, gripped it tightly and softly pushed open the wardrobe door. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she’d die, but before she did she’d give them the fright of their lives. Touching her things, mucking up her home.