Read Scandal in the Village Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Scandal in the Village (19 page)
‘No! Not the one the Rector caught …’ Vera lowered her voice and whispered the rest of the story to Sylvia, finishing with ‘Was it Kenny or Terry, I can’t remember.’
‘The very one.’
‘It’s disgusting. She’ll be putting Don off his orange juice.’ Vera moved along the settle to make room for him. ‘Don’t you make any of your awkward remarks tonight, Don Wright, the last one caused enough trouble. I don’t want
you
being thrown from the top of the church tower, well, not before I’ve checked your insurance anyhow! Thanks. Cheers.’ Vera raised her glass to her mouth and drank thirstily.
‘Me? As if I would!’
Vera, still appalled by the sight of the new barmaid, said, ‘She’ll be Elektra.’
‘Right name for her too.’ Don made one of his rare excursions into the world of laughter which made the others look at him in surprise.
Sylvia thought it was a ridiculous name. She asked Vera what the others were called. ‘Can’t remember ’em all, the youngest one’s called Mercedes I do know that. Reckon their mother must have had a brainstorm each time they popped out. She died years ago before they all grew up. Mind you, with five girls like Elektra there’s no wonder she died young, it was the surest way to escape the lot of ’em!’
Willie, still ogling Elektra, declared she was much older than she looked. ‘See her neck, yer can’t disguise that, nor her ’ands. I bet she’s fifty if she’s a day. Pity Jimmy’s not here, do ’im good to have an eyeful of her.’
Vera tut-tutted. ‘Well, I’m disgusted with Bryn. Georgie always kept the place with such style, never a word out of place, everything classy like.’
With a deadpan face Don muttered, ‘She’ll be in his bed before long.’ He waited until Bryn was looking in his direction and he called out, ‘Not taken long for yer to find someone to keep the bed warm, Bryn, in a manner of speaking like.’
Elektra answered him because Bryn, caught unawares, couldn’t think of an answer. ‘Jealous are yer? Expect that dried up old prune sat next to yer is your wife. Bet you’ve forgotten what it’s like.’
Don, the wind completely taken out of his sails by this bold retort, didn’t know where to look.
Vera went a kind of purply red, struggled out from the settle and confronted Elektra. Being small Vera’s eyes were on a level with Elektra’s cleavage which made it difficult to speak with authority.
‘You’re a tart. That’s what you are, a tart. Don’t you dare speak to my husband like that. Decent people don’t want the likes of you in here, with yer cheeky remarks and yer black lace knickers.’
‘You old cow. Bet your knickers aren’t black lace, they’ll be pink interlock with them long legs with elastic. Sexy I must say. No wonder that husband of yours is jealous.’ She pulled at the cropped sparkling top and exposed even more of her assets.
Vera, unable to come up with a smart response to this further evidence of Elektra’s unsuitability to be barmaid in the Royal Oak, picked up her glass of lager which was still half full and emptied what was left down Elektra’s chest, banged the empty glass down on the nearest table and said, ‘Don, we’re going ’ome.’ As they crossed the bar towards the door Vera said, ‘Now look what you’ve made me do with your uncalled-for remarks.’ They left in a kind of triumphant flurry.
Elektra was yowling, plucking at her top as the lager trickled down her cleavage down her midriff and then her imitation leather skirt and thence to the floor. Bryn came from behind the bar armed with a tea towel and began dabbing at Elektra’s front.
Uproar ensued. The customers were cheering him on with enthusiasm, making bold hints about their relationship and inferring what a lucky man he was, and did he need a hand?
At that moment Peter walked in. Bryn unaware what had caused the ribaldry to trail off into silence continued mopping Elektra.
‘You’ll have to go in the back and get changed. You’re absolutely wet through. Alan! Get a cloth and a bucket and …’ Bryn saw Peter and stopped in mid-sentence. Immediately he knew that he looked all kinds of a fool. It would contribute nothing to his case as far as Peter was concerned. But did he care? No, he didn’t. Hail-fellow-well-met was the best attitude to adopt. ‘Good evening, Rector! What can I get for you?’
‘I’ll have a mineral water thank you, Bryn. Busy tonight.’
‘That’s right. Just had a bit of a fracas with two of the customers. All part of life’s rich pattern. Eh?’
‘Indeed. I’ve just popped in to see about arrangements for a meeting. I didn’t know how you were fixed for help in the bar but I see you’ve got someone. Eighty pence, that right?’
‘That’s right, Rector.’
‘Sunday evening after service I thought, in the rectory. It’s fine with the others. Is it all right with you?’
‘I’ll get Elektra to change shifts, her and Alan should be able to manage.’
‘Good.’ Peter stood at the bar one foot on the brass rail and looked at the crowd. He acknowledged Willie and Sylvia and a few more from church, and drank his mineral water. There was a lot of furtive giggling amongst the customers and an occasional burst of laughter.
Elektra returned. Sylvia gasped. Nudging Willie she whispered ‘I’m certain that’s one of Georgie’s tops. I remember her wearing it. It’s not on is it?’
‘It’s not blinking decent, it isn’t. You wouldn’t think Georgie was living only yards away, you’d think she was dead. I’m amazed at Bryn. He’s lost his marbles, that’s what.’ Willie went to the bar to buy another drink. ‘Good evening, Rector. I’m afraid things aren’t what they were in these parts.’
Peter smiled wryly and said, ‘I agree.’
Two of the customers called good night and went, and those left behind settled down to a quiet evening. There was a game of dominoes in progress at the table by the fire, someone got up and shouted to Bryn should they put another log on, and he agreed, not caring much either way as he was chatting to Elektra. Two chaps from Culworth decided to have a game of darts and Elektra exchanged some coarse chit-chat with them. Bryn glanced at the clock. An hour to closing. And then … He admired Elektra’s rampant red hair and thought about burying his hands in it, grasping great handfuls of it, twining it round his fingers, luxuriating in the thickness of it and … would she let him though? As she’d said her father had turned her out and she’d nowhere to go, he’d delightedly agreed to her having Alan’s old room. Everything somehow had fallen neatly into place. As he contemplated with relish the possibility of some extra-mural activity once the bar was closed, he heard the outside door open. He looked up to see who’d come in.
It was Georgie carrying her case. She’d come back.
Bryn went hot right from his bow tie down to his brown suede shoes. His head swirled till he felt so dizzy he had to clutch hold of the bar to steady himself. Through the mists which, to his surprise, had filled the bar he saw the look of fury on Georgie’s face when she spotted Elektra.
He watched her eyes taking in the whole of the saloon, Peter at the bar, the flames hungrily crackling away at the new log, the plastic flowers Elektra had put on the counter, which now appeared to him to be in the worst possible taste, and finally her eyes reached him. If it was possible he went even hotter. Her look floored him. He felt compelled to turn his eyes away, he couldn’t meet hers, those lovely blue eyes which had so captivated him all those years ago; it was the horrendous sadness he saw in them he couldn’t face. Georgie didn’t speak. Not even to Peter. She walked across, went behind the bar and through the door marked
Private
.
Had she come back for good then?
Sylvia asked Willie this very question and he couldn’t answer it, neither could anyone else. In fact the question never did get answered for it was ‘Time, ladies and gentlemen, please’ before they knew where they were. So they all went home, Peter included, none the wiser.
Grandmama was taking her turn organising the after morning service coffee in the church hall. With the service commencing at ten o’clock she was already there by quarter past nine putting out the cups. Willie had switched on the heating and the water heater so there was nothing much else to do but put out the cups, get the big coffee jugs out, spoon some sugar into bowls, put the pretty tablecloths on which Muriel had made when the hall had been renovated, get the spoons out of the locked cupboard, where was the key? Drat it, Mrs Jones had that. Where was she?
She heard the outside door shut and Mrs Jones calling out, ‘Anyone here?’
‘Good morning!’
‘Oh! Good morning Mrs Charter-Plackett, I thought I was the first. You’ve done everything. You must have been early.’
‘I was. I had a bad night so I decided to get up early and make the best of the day.’
‘Not sleeping well then? I have some blinking good herbal stuff I use when I’m having one of my sessions when I can’t sleep. Yer sleep but yer don’t feel drugged when yer wake up. I’ve got a new bottle in mi bag, ‘ere you ’ave it.’ She searched about in her cavernous bag and produced a bottle of tablets still in the herbalist’s bag. ‘Take it, go on, buy me a new bottle next time you’re in Culworth. I’ve still got some left in my old bottle.’
‘Oh, well thank you. I could give them a try, couldn’t I? I don’t usually have any problem, just an off night now and again. Have you the key for the cupboard, I need the spoons.’
‘Coming to something when yer have to lock up church cupboards. Things aren’t what they were, are they?’
Grandmama gave her a quizzical look but as Mrs Jones didn’t respond in any way she thanked her for the spoons and went round putting one in each saucer.
Mrs Jones, between counting the spoonsful of coffee needed for each jug said ‘You won’t have seen the new barmaid?’
‘No.’
‘Our Kenny was in there Friday, he says she’s a tart and he should know.’
‘Is she?’
‘Oh yes. Between you and me she’s been around rather longer than she’d like us to know. Dresses fifteen when she’s nearer fifty. But as Kenny says she has a heart of gold, so we all know what that means.’ Slyly she brought the conversation round to Georgie. ‘Must be awful for Georgie having that tart in her lovely pub. How’s she keeping? Don’t see much of her nowadays. Has she said anything about going back to him? Or is she staying with you a bit longer?’
Sorely tempted to relate the conversation she’d had With Georgie which had gone on far into the previous night Grandmama remembered Peter’s admonition and said briefly, ‘I’m only giving her a refuge till she sorts out what she wants to do, she doesn’t confide in me.’
Oh no, thought Mrs Jones, I should cocoa. ‘Well, it must be very difficult for ’em, them being business partners, not like if they were managers and the brewery owned it. Different when it’s a free house. More complicated money-wise isn’t it?’
‘There that’s that. I’ll be off to church. See you afterwards. I don’t expect there’ll be many there today. We shouldn’t be too busy.’
But she was wrong. The church was filled, not so many as for a special service but there were plenty there, and they all poured into the hall afterwards too. Grandmama and Mrs Jones were kept very busy, so busy they hadn’t time for gossip, but judging by the loud hum of conversation and the hoots of laughter everyone else had plenty of time for it.
After the first surge of activity Grandmama took a moment to look around. Her eyes lighted on Peter first, because he was a head taller than most of the others. He was talking to Georgie. Poor Georgie. She’d made that brave decision to go back to Bryn and make a real effort to improve their lives together and what had she found? that disgusting woman serving in
her
bar, wearing one of
her
favourite tops, and Bryn looking like the cat who’d been at the cream. What had made matters worse was her realising, once she’d gone upstairs, that Elektra was living there, something she would never have allowed. Alan, yes, but then they’d known him since he’d first started work with them at eighteen, and been pleased to offer him a home, but Elektra … She was a different kettle offish altogether.
Grandmama had been secretly appalled by Georgie’s reaction. It seemed to her that Georgie had still had a lot of feeling left for Bryn, but that it had been destroyed in an instant by what she’d found. Apparently they’d had a frightful row, with Georgie telling Bryn exactly what she thought of him, something she’d never done before. Bryn had grown defiant, and told her what else could she expect when she’d left him to cope by himself, and if she didn’t like the new barmaid she knew what she could do.
‘Which is?’
‘Just leave and let me get on with it my way.’
‘We’ll have no business left, our punters won’t like’ – she’d given Elektra a scathing glance – ‘someone like her, we’ve a better class of pub. She’s more the Jug and Bottle type.’
Elektra had taken umbrage at that remark. ‘The Jug and Bottle! I wouldn’t work there.’
‘No? Perhaps you’re right, they wouldn’t want you, you’re not even good enough for
them
, and that’s saying something.’
Bryn had protested. ‘Now come on, Georgie, there’s no call to be downright nasty.’
‘Isn’t there? Don’t forget, Bryn, I’m a partner in this business and I shall want my profit share. If she stays there’ll be no profit to have. People like Sir Ralph and Jimbo and the Duchess and the Rector won’t patronise us with her in here. She’ll attract all the wrong kind of people.’
Elektra tossed her hair back and hands on hips retorted, ‘Stuck-up lot they are, anyway, with their mineral waters and their gins and tonics.’ She mimicked someone sipping delicately from their glass and laughed. ‘There’s plenty that will come ’cos I’m here. Give me men like Kenny Jones and their Terry, they know how to spend money …’
Georgie had looked Elektra up and down and said, ‘You should know …’
‘Well, really, you horrible old …’
‘Old? Me, old? Try looking at your birth certificate some time.’ So Georgie had then turned on her heel after firing that shot, picked up her case and left. She’d heard Bryn calling ‘Georgie! Georgie!’ but she’d ignored him.
So now poor Georgie was in even more turmoil than before.
Peter was talking and Georgie was listening and nodding her head. Grandmama noticed that Mrs Jones had drawn close ostensibly collecting used cups, but Grandmama could recognise her subterfuge. The choirboys came for their orange squash and her attention was taken making sure they didn’t take all the biscuits. St Thomas à Becket choirboys were renowned for their ability to clear the plates of biscuits if you took your eyes off them even for a moment.
By the time she looked up again Dicky had joined Peter and Georgie and Mrs Jones was coming back without a single cup on her tray, and her lips tightly nipped together.
‘Didn’t hear a thing. They both stopped talking when I got near enough to hear.’
Grandmama saw it was her place to be shocked. ‘You don’t mean you were trying to eavesdrop?’
Mrs Jones grinned. ‘Oh no, of course not! You know there’s more than one had a word with the Rector about this business with Bel and Dicky. They’ve not taken kindly to knowing they share a bedroom. It’s all very well the Rector saying he has Dicky’s assurance there’s nothing going on, but I ask yer? Stands to reason. He’s a man isn’t he, and a randy one at that by all accounts, so it must come over him sometimes, like it does with ’em all. Yer know.’ She nudged Grandmama and gave her a wink.
Grandmama blanched. She wasn’t accustomed to gossip at this level. She protested but Mrs Jones carried on. ‘Who’re they kidding? Not me for one. Much as I like Bel, it’s not right. Just think of it. It’s disgusting! Mr Charter-Plackett’ll ’ave no compunction about sacking Bel. He’s a lovely chap but when it comes to business … But there, you don’t need me to tell you that. If he finds himself with a boycott it’ll be curtains for Bel quick sharp. And the mothers at the school have asked if Bel can be sacked and that Kate won’t do it. Says she’s no cause for sacking her and she won’t, not so long as she does a good job. They had a deputation or whatever they call it one lunchtime, but they met their match with Miss Kate Pascoe. Oh, I didn’t see you waiting, Dr Harris. Sorry. Coffee?’
Caroline nodded her head. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Milk?’
‘Yes, please. Good morning, Mrs Charter-Plackett.’
‘Good morning, Caroline, my dear. Beautiful morning.’
‘It certainly is. I don’t know why, but when the two of you make the coffee it always tastes much better than everyone else’s. Do you have some secret recipe or something?’
Grandmama and Mrs Jones preened themselves.
‘TLC, that’s our secret ingredient, isn’t it Mrs Jones?’
Rather nonplussed, Mrs Jones agreed.
Caroline looked around the hall. ‘I see! Oh, there he is. I’ve a message for Peter. See you.’
The two of them watched Caroline squeezing her way through the throng to Peter. She stood quietly beside him waiting to deliver her message.
Georgie was speaking. ‘Well, Rector, there’s no two ways about it, I’m not going back. Ever. I wouldn’t go back even if he crawled from there to here on his hands and knees begging me every inch of the way.’
‘Tonight at the meeting …’
‘I shan’t be there.’
‘Georgie!’
‘I’m sorry, but I shan’t. As far as I am concerned there’s nothing to discuss. I’m seeing my solicitor in the morning and I’m going for a divorce and making certain of where we stand with the pub, money-wise. That’s that.’
Peter in the face of her resistance could only say, ‘Well, if you’re determined on that then there’s no more to say. I may as well cancel the meeting. So this means you and Dicky …’ He looked at the two of them in turn.
Dicky took the initiative. ‘We haven’t discussed what we want to do. Not yet. Georgie only made her mind up last night, so we haven’t had time to talk. And there’s Bel.’
Peter nodded his sympathy. ‘Of course, there’s Bel. I’m encountering a lot of opposition oh that score, I’m afraid.’
Dicky sighed. ‘I know. It’ll all come out in the wash.’ He saw Caroline standing patiently waiting. ‘Good morning, Dr Harris. You’re looking well. Better than you did.’
‘Indeed I am, thank you. Much better. If you’ve finished I’ve a message for you, darling.’
‘OK. Yes. I’ll tell Bryn the meeting’s off. Bight?’ He turned away and bent his head to hear what Caroline had to say.
Georgie turned to Dicky and said, ‘We need to talk.’
‘We’ll have our dinner with Bel like she’s planned and then we’ll go out somewhere, just you and me. I’m sorry it’s come to this.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Well, I am. But on the other hand it means we’ve got the go ahead.’
Georgie squeezed his arm. ‘Oh yes it does, and what’s more, no regrets now, none whatsoever.’
When they’d finished their Sunday dinner, Bel and Georgie went into the kitchen to clear up. There was scarcely enough room for the two of them but it brought about a kind of intimacy which they hadn’t experienced before.
Bel said ‘I want to thank you for coming to dinner today. Dicky needed a boost. I don’t expect he’s told you but you ought to know, we’ve had some very nasty letters.’
‘You never have. Oh Bel!’
‘Just pushed through the door, not signed or anything. Dicky’s been very upset. There were two more this morning.’
‘I’m so sorry. They can be very vindictive. Right from us first coming here we realised that. Very, very nasty if something doesn’t suit. All this mediaeval village bit, you know. But poison pen letters! That’s dreadful. Have you told the Rector?’
‘Dicky won’t. Says the shame would kill him, Dicky I mean, if the Rector was to read ’em. But it’s so awful. We’ve done nothing and I want you to know this Georgie, we’ve done
nothing wrong
. Truly we haven’t, Nothing at all.’
‘I know that Bel, I know. You’re not those kind of people. Dicky told me at the very beginning when we first got attracted to one another that you were his sister, so I’ve always known you see, but never let on to a living soul. I couldn’t love Dicky like I do if what they’re saying was true. He wouldn’t be like he is, would he now? What’s more, neither of you would be so kind and lovely. You don’t need to convince me. But I do think the Rector ought to know about the letters, after all those who wrote them are his parishoners.’
‘Well, Dicky doesn’t want him to know, so that’s that. Don’t tell anyone will you?’
Georgie reached up and kissed Bel’s cheek. ‘Of course not, I think too much about you to say anything if that’s what you both want. You can rely on me.’
Bel handed Georgie a clean tea towel and said, ‘Thanks. We’ll say no more. They’ll stop eventually I expect. I’m glad about you and Dicky. Very glad. He needs someone like you. A sister’s not the same at all.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Bel. I’ve been worried about that. Truly worried. I didn’t want to come between you.’
‘It’s time he branched out. I love him dearly, always will, but he needs to move on. I wouldn’t say to him but it’s true. Between you and me, he clings to me you see, it’s not good for him.’