Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) (4 page)

‘I saw them popping food into plastic bags. They really are a disgrace.’

Ralph raised his eyebrows. ‘Do they always do that?’

‘Always. I used to see them doing it when I lived here as a girl. One Bonfire Night party, when your father used to have a big bonfire in Home Park, they actually had a shopping basket with them. They’re quite unashamed about it.’

‘I’d no idea. Tea?’

Muriel smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, please.’ Gazing out of the window, she said, ‘I thought the wedding cake was so beautiful. I hate those dreadful bride and bridegroom figures. This one was so original and in such good taste.’

‘You sound wistful, my dear.’

‘Not really. But it was beautiful. Harriet is very clever.’ Muriel sipped her tea. ‘Do you really think Kate has married him for his money?’

‘In a strange way, there’s more to it than that, I think. Though I can’t see it working for long.’

‘That’s what Grandmama Charter-Plackett said. She’s given it three months.’

Ralph grinned. ‘More toast?’

Muriel took a slice, examined it and decided they’d have to get a new toaster. ‘No honeymoon and back teaching on Monday. It’s not very romantic, is it?’

At eight-thirty precisely on the Monday morning, Kate’s little car whizzed into the school playground. It was always there, parked by the schoolhouse, so when the children came to school that morning, things looked no different at all. It was quite disappointing. But all of them knew about the wedding and many arrived with small presents and flowers for her.

And there she was, as usual, standing on the doorstep of the main entrance ringing the original school bell, in use since the school opened 150 years ago, at ten minutes to nine as if nothing of importance had happened during half-term.

‘Good morning, everyone!’ she said and, as usual, they replied, ‘Good morning Miss Pas . . .’ Then they stopped and there was a jumble of ‘Mrs Fitch’ and ‘Miss Pascoe’, followed by an embarrassed silence.

‘My mum says she hopes you’ll be happy,’ shouted Karen, the biggest and boldest of Year Seven.

‘My mum says she can’t believe it,’ said a small innocent in Year One.

‘Neither can mine.’

‘Well, there’s one thing for certain, I’m still your headteacher and the same person I was the last time you saw me. Nothing’s changed really. So which class shall I choose to go in first? Mrs Hardaker’s, I think. Quietly.
Next?’ She surveyed the rows of children all hoping to be chosen. Lovely, bright, shining morning faces except for the Binns children. They looked ghastly. ‘Miss Booth’s class, please. Gently now, gently. We’re going into school, not a football match.’

‘Wish we were, Miss Pascoe.’

‘Now the big ones, my class.’

‘I’ve brought you a present, look.’

‘Why, how thoughtful of you. Take it in for me and I’ll open it straight after prayers.’

‘Mine says, “Mr and Mrs Fitch”. Look.’

‘It does. In your handwriting too!’

‘I’ve brought a card. I wrote it myself.’

‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you very much. Go inside out of the cold and we’ll have a look after prayers.’

Kate watched her class go in, her mind elsewhere.
Was
she the same person? No, not really, there was something in her that had changed, but she couldn’t identify what it was. She knew she felt warmer inside, in the very core of her, cosier, and at peace. Was that getting married or because she’d married Craddock? He’d gone up to London this morning full of energy, revitalized he said, loving marriage and reluctant to go, but business called. It always would. But even so, she knew she occupied a very, very special place in his heart. At last, during the year they’d been seeing each other, he’d found his heart. She was relieved he wasn’t possessive and jealous, which wouldn’t do for her. She couldn’t bear those kind of chains. Love given freely, on the other hand, was wonderful.

‘Miss Pascoe!’ Karen from Year Seven interrupted her thoughts.

‘Yes, Karen?’

‘There’s a lady called Mrs Bliss and she wants a word. They don’t look our sort at all.’

‘Karen! Where is she?’

‘In the coat room and her kids are kicking the wellies about.’

‘Go into the hall and ask Mrs Hardaker to settle everyone down. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Karen was proved right. There were four children of varying ages, badly clothed and fed by the looks of them, doing just as Karen had reported.

‘Children! Come here to me.’ She waited in silence, fixing them with a determined eye, until one by one they had done as she asked. ‘Good morning, Mrs Bliss. I’m Kate Pas . . . Fitch, the headteacher. You want to see me?’ The hand Kate shook was lifeless, bony and chilled.

‘Come to register them. All four. This is Philip and he’s Paul, they’re twins and they’re ten. The two girls are Una and Della. Una’s five and Della’s seven. Is there space for them?’

‘Only just. We’re very full at the moment. Where do you live?’

‘Little Derehams. That old cottage, the one that hasn’t been occupied for years.’

‘Have you walked here?’

Mrs Bliss nodded.

‘There’s a school bus at eight twenty-five every morning from the crossroads in the centre of Little Derehams. They’ve a right to catch it. They’ll be home on it by four-ish each day. Will you write down their details for me; dates of birth, which schools they’ve attended and such? Can’t stop, I’ve prayers to take. They’ll need school
dinner, we all have a hot meal every day, so we’ll feed them today and then you can send the money tomorrow for the week. I’ll give them a note. Say goodbye to your mother and come with me to prayers.’

The parting of mother and children was casual to say the least. They drifted away from her without the smallest demonstration of emotion on either part. She gave a slight movement of her hand, which almost said, ‘Get off, and good riddance.’

Kate showed the children where to hang the thin, worn-out coats they wore and, taking the two smaller ones by the hand, she led them into the hall. ‘Sit anywhere you like. We’ll sort out classes later.’ The boys squatted on the floor right at the back; the two little girls stood shyly, hand in hand, fingers in mouths, just looking. They each had enormous brown eyes set in deep sockets, and their cheeks were hollowed and their jaw bones well defined. Hungry, that’s what, thought Kate. Downright hungry. Their fine brown hair, wispy and unevenly cut, had a distinctly unkempt look. She went to stand in front of the children and waited until Mrs Hardaker had finished playing her quietening-down music.

‘Good morning, children.’

When she left the school, Mrs Bliss went into the Village Store. She crept in, feeling intimidated, having expected some half-hearted run-down village shop; finding it well set-up and packed from floor to ceiling with goodies too inviting for words, threw her. She picked up a basket and began wandering around the aisles, tempted beyond imagination to shoplift. Then the girl behind the Post
Office counter said something to a customer about getting a coffee to keep out the cold.

Mrs Bliss peered round the tall freezer, which was full of homemade ready meals, and saw the coffee machine. Her insides craved the heat of a hot drink and sugar too. That would help. Bravely, driven by necessity, she poured herself a coffee, stirred three lumps of sugar into it and two little pots of cream and went to stand by the side window to drink it. She sipped the scorching drink and thought of other coffees she’d drunk when the world was the right way up . . .

A man, surprisingly wearing a boater and striped apron, took her elbow and gently turned her round so she was sitting on a chair. ‘Thought you were going to faint. Sit there for a minute. You’re new here?’ He stood, smiling down at her, waiting for her reply.

She took another sip of her heart-warming coffee before she answered. ‘Yes. We’ve come to live in Little Derehams. Brought the children to school, their first morning. Thank you for this.’ She wished he’d move away and let her enjoy the drink. ‘Seems a nice school.’

‘It is. My daughter Fran is in her last year there. She’s been very happy. The other three did very well there too. How many children have you?’

‘Four. Two boys, two girls.’

‘Same here. Handful, aren’t they?’

Mrs Bliss nodded. Thankfully, the man wandered away, but she noticed he kept glancing at her. Did he suspect what she was about to do? Someone called from the rear of the shop and he disappeared. Right! In a moment she had a large pack of mince from the deep freeze in her bag. She did buy some milk and a packet of biscuits, then made
to leave, walking as slowly as she dared. The jingling of the shop bell startled her as she opened the door, but no one came after her. She’d made it. Thank God. So now she’d finally reached the bottom, stealing to feed her family. But the bus fares to Culworth yesterday had cost far more than she’d hoped, and then the taxi, but they’d all been so exhausted . . .

Jimbo, who was seated with Harriet in the kitchen, said, ‘She’s going to steal.’

‘Well, go and stop her.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Why not? You know how furious it makes you. Go on.’

‘No, Harriet. Not this time.’

‘Why not? Who is it?’

‘I don’t know, but I do know she has four children to feed and she’s desperate. She had one of our coffees and it looked to me as though it was the first hot food she’d had in days. She’d have eaten the cup if she could have.’

‘You sentimental old thing you. And there was I thinking you were a commercial animal through and through.’

‘Hmm. What are you doing, might I ask?’

‘I promised Kate I would cut this tier of her cake into pieces so she could give the children a taste of her wedding cake. I’ll take it across in a minute. She wants it ready for when they have their break.’

‘By the way, old Fitch was delighted with the cake, my darling. So was Kate.’ Jimbo watched Harriet counting the slices. ‘Funny couple. Still, it might work out OK.
Though the odds do seem stacked against them, don’t you think?’

‘Definitely. But stranger marriages have worked out and maybe this one will too. I hope so for both their sakes.’

‘So do I. When you go across to the school ask Kate about this woman.’

Harriet, having arranged the pieces of cake on a huge silver serving dish and covered it with foil, took off her statutory apron and head covering, put on her coat and set off for the school with a big smile on her face. She loved popping in to the school to see everybody. It was such a happy place to be and Harriet was almost disappointed that when Fran left there’d be no excuse for coming in.

She’d arrived just in time. The children were sitting at their tables while the milk monitors were handing out the milk.

‘Wow! Just made it!’ Kate said. ‘Thanks for this, Harriet, I’d never have got the pieces all the same size, and then there’d have been terrible trouble. Napkins too! Lovely.’

They had a delightful ten minutes handing round the cake and giving the children a wedding napkin to catch the crumbs. After they’d all gone out to play, Kate took Harriet into her tiny office.

‘We had someone in the Store this morning who’d come straight from bringing her children to school for the first time,’ said Harriet.

‘That would be Mrs Bliss.’

‘Jimbo was of the opinion that she was intending stealing, and he left her to get on with it. Said she looked ghastly and he thought she was going to faint.’

‘The children look hungry too. She seemed absolutely
lifeless. I can’t quite put my finger on it; unaccustomed to poverty, I guess.’

‘Jimbo is very hot on stealing in the Store. He won’t even dignify it by calling it shoplifting. But this morning he allowed it to happen. Perhaps a bit of investigation wouldn’t go amiss. Free dinners or something?’

Kate nodded. ‘You’ve taken the words out of my mouth.’ She stood up when she heard the bell for the end of play. ‘Thanks again. Don’t forget your serving dish. There’s still a few pieces left, so take them with you. Craddock and I have plenty.’

Harriet had to ask. ‘Happy?’

‘Very. Very happy. Truly.’

‘I’m glad. You’re just what he needs. It’s been a huge surprise.’

‘Thanks for keeping it secret.’

‘Believe me, it was the village’s best kept secret ever. Everyone was stunned.’

‘That was part of the fun. Must go. Thanks!’

Harriet went to collect her dish only to find that there were no pieces left for her to take home. She hoped it was the Bliss children who’d done the dirty on her.

When it came to dinnertime, the children ate in family groups with their teacher or a dinner lady at the head of the table. Kate insisted the children had school dinners and baulked at any attempt to introduce packed lunches. Some parents had argued with her about it, claiming their children were difficult eaters and they’d never eat a thing if presented with a cooked meal of meat and three veg. Her answer had been that they would be surprised how quickly the children grew to like school dinners when they saw how everyone else got on with theirs and enjoyed them.
She made sure the Bliss twins were seated at her table and noticed how rapidly they emptied their plates. It was jam rolypoly for pudding and their eyes grew large as their dishes were passed down to them.