Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) (7 page)

The two boys looked relieved and followed her back into the schoolyard.

When she’d finally got the four of them belted up, she turned the ignition key and set off. As she was driving down Church Hill, it occurred to her that the parcel of wedding cake had not been beside her bag when she picked it up. That was odd.

It was only two miles and a bit to Little Derehams and it was quite a relief to get there. Whatever topic of conversation she brought up elicited no response from the children. They might just as well have been mutes.

She knew exactly where they lived and smiled to herself when, five doors past it, Philip shouted, ‘Stop here!’

Della had a child’s battered rucksack, which Kate had put in the boot. When she lifted it out, there was a distinct rustle of greaseproof paper, and it felt heavier than she would have expected.

‘Bye, children. See you tomorrow.’ They stood on the pavement waving while she reversed into a driveway to turn round. Kate purposely drove slowly and watched in her rear-view mirror to see where they went. The two girls couldn’t wait to get home and dashed off immediately to Simone Paradise’s old cottage; the boys waited another minute and then followed. The poor things. They were terrified she might go in with them and see the squalor. If it was anything like it used to be when Simone lived there, squalor would be a polite word for the condition of the house.

‘Craddock!’

He looked up from
The Economist
and peered at her
over the top of his reading glasses. ‘Darling?’

‘Are you feeling full of good advice?’

Craddock stopped reading and took off his glasses. ‘Yes. What is it you want?’

‘Well, it’s not something I want, it’s—’

‘Yes? Spit it out.’

‘I have four children at school in dire poverty and quite unable to buy school uniform. For whatever reason, their mother is bringing them up alone and they are poorer than the proverbial church mouse. They are obviously unaccustomed to poverty, because they’re well mannered, dignified, proud. You know.’

‘I hope you’re not saying that children living in desperate conditions must therefore be ill-mannered and common.’

Kate was puzzled by his remark. ‘No, of course not. What I mean is . . . well, I don’t know what I mean, but they are in a bad way and stealing to feed themselves. Jimbo had a word on Sunday and he says the mother is in the Store most days stealing food, and that she almost fainted in there one day. He hasn’t said anything yet, but of course it can’t go on. The children are bone thin. Today they stole a large piece of wedding cake, which someone left in a parcel on the school doorstep.’

Craddock straightened up in his chair and said, ‘I’m losing the plot here. Are you saying that you found a piece of
our
wedding cake in a
parcel
on the school doorstep? Whatever for, for Christ’s sake?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea. But there it was. Carefully wrapped in greaseproof paper and in a cardboard box. But
I’m very sure that it was in one of the little girls’ rucksacks when I drove them home.’

‘Why did you drive them home? What’s happened to the bus?’

‘I was having a talk with the two boys, only for a moment, but the driver left the two girls standing waiting because they daren’t get on without their brothers.’

‘The blithering idiot! I’ll see about this.’ He got out his electronic diary and made a note. ‘They’re given a task, all spelt out and well paid for it too, and still they can’t manage to do it right. I’ll sack the lot and get someone else.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘It is to me. I’m paying for the damn buses and they’ve to go on time but, most especially, not leave little girls standing on their own. Anything could have happened. I’ll fire the lot of ’em.’

‘Please, Craddock, I’m not talking about minibus drivers, I’m talking about poverty.’

‘So am I! That’s what they’ll be suffering from, when I’ve done with them. Poverty in capital letters. The damn fools.’ He got to his feet and marched about the sitting room in a fuming temper. ‘Only what they deserve. How did he suppose those little girls would get home? I mean, did he give it a thought? Oh no. Do we have the idiot’s name?’

‘No. But I shall find out for you tomorrow. Now, could we please talk about poverty?’

‘You promise? Ring me first thing.’

‘Right. Now—’

‘You said to me that throwing money at a problem was
earning me no Brownie points, so what would you like me to do?’

‘That’s what I’m asking. What can we do?’

‘Money is my answer, that’s all I know. Money. It’s the answer to everything in one way or another, and it’s the only one in these circumstances, believe me.’

‘Yes, Craddock, I know. What I’m saying is while you’ve given me complete access to your money by making a joint account for us both, would you object to me buying them school uniforms and pretending they came from the council?’

‘It’s my experience that you might as well be honest with the woman and tell her you’re buying them because somehow, as sure as the sun rises each morning, she’s going to find out and then she’ll be even more mortified. What did the girl want with the wedding cake?’

Kate smiled wryly at him. ‘To eat, of course, because they’re hungry. Like I said, their mother is stealing from the Store to feed them.’

‘Maybe she’s a poor manager.’

‘Oh, come on! Would she take the risk of being charged with theft because she’s spending what money she has on cigarettes and gin? She’s not the type.’

The following lunchtime Kate popped into the Store to post a parcel to a friend for her birthday. In front of her in the queue was Mrs Bliss, clutching a very new-looking allowance book.

‘Mrs Bliss. Can I have a word before you leave?’

Mrs Bliss turned to see who had spoken. ‘Yes, of course.’ But she collected her money and before Kate had paid for her parcel and stuck on the stamps, she had
left. Kate raced out after her and was just in time to see her disappearing into the wood on the spare land. ‘Mrs Bliss!’

She stopped and waited.

‘Mrs Bliss. I’ve been wanting a word. I hope you won’t be offended, but I feel very concerned that your children don’t have school uniform. I think it’s making them feel like outsiders and it’s not fair. I realize school uniform is out of the question for you, but I do have access to council funds, which I can use entirely at my discretion. It helps with funding parties and little extra things we need, you know. The children, in particular Philip and Paul, feel embarrassed that they don’t have uniforms. If I can get permission, would you allow the school to buy uniforms for them? No one but you and I shall know you’ve had help.’

Mrs Bliss, for the first time, looked Kate straight in the eye. ‘I would very much appreciate that. I don’t like them being different. Like you said, it’s not fair on them. They don’t ask for it, you see, because they know,’ her head went down and she muttered, ‘we can’t afford it.’

‘I understand. That’s why I’m telling you about this discretionary fund. Can I go ahead, then? All you’ll need to do is take a letter from me to the school outfitters in Culworth and you can buy whatever is necessary.’

‘Thank you, for their sakes.’

‘They’re very bright. But then you know that, don’t you?’

Mrs Bliss nodded.

‘Well, I’ve got to get back. I’ll give the letter to Philip to bring home to you and you can go on Saturday.’

When Kate returned to school, she found Maggie
Dobbs searching for her, complaining loudly. ‘Them dinner women, I’ve caught ’em good and proper. Taking food home. This time I saw it with my own eyes.’ She stabbed a finger at Kate. ‘A den of thieves, they are. Small portions for the kids and take home what’s left. Disgusting. Stealing food from His little ones. “Suffer the little children to come unto Me for of such is the Kingdom of heaven.” ’ Maggie’s dark brown eyes looked piously heavenwards.

‘Mrs Dobbs! My office, if you please. Now.’

Standing in front of Kate’s desk, Maggie outlined her evidence. ‘So, she couldn’t find her keys and I said they’ll have dropped in your bag, and when she opened it, there it was for all to see – a basin full of food with clingfilm over it. I never said no word to her that I’d noticed, none of my business, of course. She perhaps thinks I never saw, but I did. It’ll be for her old man for his supper, you can bet.’ Maggie folded her arms self-righteously.

‘Mrs Dobbs, thank you. I shall deal with this.’

‘She’s gone now, so yer can’t.’

‘I shall tomorrow. Please do not take matters into your own hands. I am the headteacher here.’

‘I know, that’s why I told you. It’s to be done proper, sacking her. I’ve been suspicious for months, but now I’ve caught ’em red-handed.’

Mrs Dobbs flounced out, a look of triumph on her face. At last. The occasional bottle of cream cleaner she used for the school basins found its way from school into the cupboard under her sink, but that was her due. Taking food from children was different. She wondered about inviting the dinner ladies to one of her seances and
frightening them to death like she had the Senior sisters. After all, she’d be doing everyone a good turn if it stopped them thieving, wouldn’t she?

Muriel, to her dismay, had been asked to play the piano for the Maypole dancing practice at the school. Kate had asked her, having seen her name in an old school log book as the Maypole pianist. The children did it on the Green each year on 1 May and the day would be here before they knew where they were. Would she? Please? Hetty’s class was a very difficult one this year with several turbulent souls in it and Hetty felt she couldn’t give her mind to it. Could she?

Muriel found it hard to refuse, for she’d loved the Maypole and the ribbons and all the jolly tunes ever since she’d been at the village school herself. She consulted Ralph and he’d said, ‘Why not, my dear? You must.’

‘I’m very rusty. I haven’t played for years, not since Hetty Hardaker started at the school and took over all the music. I would have to practise.’ Muriel wrung her hands. ‘I hate making a fool of myself. No, I won’t. I’ll say no. Yes, I’ll say no. Going away, I shall say. No, that would be telling fibs, because we’d have to go away when I don’t want to. Too rusty, too old, lost my confidence and that’s the truth.’

Ralph had taken her writhing hands in his and held them close to his cheek, then kissed them. ‘My dear, if it’s
going to make you ill, then don’t do it. But may I make a suggestion?’ Muriel nodded. ‘Sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh Ralph, of course, you’re quite right. You always are. You know me inside out, don’t you?’ She stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his forehead, admired his distinguished good looks of which she never tired, and asked, ‘Tea before we go to bed?’

‘I fancy whisky tonight. And you?’

Muriel nodded. ‘With water, as always.’

So, having taken Ralph’s advice, she’d agreed and the day had come for their first practice. Two or three nights prior to the big day, she’d asked permission to borrow the school keys from Mrs Dobbs and had gone into school secretly. She found the rustiness she’d feared had melted away as soon as her fingers caught the rhythm of ‘The Spider’s Web’, which was one of her favourites. She loved the tune and the idea of the interwoven ribbons forming the web to catch the fly. Oh yes, she was going to enjoy this. The second night she’d gone to practise, she took the keys home with her by mistake, though how she could have done that she couldn’t understand because the key to the main door was huge.

So, having got home, Muriel had to set out again to take it to Mrs Dobbs, who would need it early the next day. Outside Mrs Dobbs’s door, however, Muriel stood still, appalled by the terrible moaning going on inside. Being a cottage, the front door opened straight into the living room and it appeared to be coming directly from there. She tried knocking but there was no reply. Still the moaning continued and then there was a piercing shriek.
Unnerved, Muriel thrust the key through the letterbox and fled, trembling in every limb.

But the next morning, there was Maggie Dobbs, her usual chirpy self and apparently none the worse for the agony of the night before.

‘Good morning, Lady Templeton! Nice to have you on board.’

‘Good morning, Mrs Dobbs. Are you quite well?’

‘Bloomin’. Thanks.’ She dashed away to get on with her morning duties and left Muriel standing alone in the hall. Whatever it was, she thought, it couldn’t have been serious.

Muriel enjoyed assembly and couldn’t resist peeping from behind her fingers to watch the children saying their prayers. Rows of quite delightful children, from the tiny ones at the front to the bigger ones, almost ready for leaving, at the back. Such dear, dear children, with their little hands held to their faces in prayer. What a joy. Such innocence.

Then she spotted one of the bigger boys holding his nose and pointing at the new twins and laughing. The twin nearest to him was trying his best to ignore the taunting but finally erupted, giving his torturer the most enormous swipe across his face, and then pushing him so that he almost overbalanced into the next boy sitting cross-legged beside him. A wholesale fight then broke out and Kate Pascoe, or rather Kate Fitch, had to stop her prayers.