The Village Newcomers (23 page)
‘What kind of entertainment would you like, then?’
Mr Fitch shrugged.
In a flash Ford grasped the essence of the man. Mr Fitch couldn’t find the banquet beneath him intellectually, because he wasn’t superior in any way to Ford Barclay. No, not he. He really hadn’t got an excuse. It was pique that was making him refuse. Damn the man. He stood up, his eyes glazed with temper, leaned his hands on the edge of the enormous desk and said, ‘I see. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes. You were damn well not
born
a moneyed person. You might have made pots of the stuff, but deep down you’re an ordinary bloke just like me. There’s nothing upper-class about you. Pretending the banquet’s beneath you! Huh! You and I can look each other in the eye as equals. Dragged ourselves up by our bootlaces we have, left education behind on the shelf and concentrated on making money. I’ve met too many guys with inherited money at race meetings not to know the difference in their accent, compared to yours. Accent might not count for much nowadays but it still tells an awful lot about a chap. It’s all there too in their bearing, in their style. Hang your Savile Row bespoke suits. I,’ he forcefully tapped his own chest, ‘have got
your
measure, believe me.’
born
a moneyed person. You might have made pots of the stuff, but deep down you’re an ordinary bloke just like me. There’s nothing upper-class about you. Pretending the banquet’s beneath you! Huh! You and I can look each other in the eye as equals. Dragged ourselves up by our bootlaces we have, left education behind on the shelf and concentrated on making money. I’ve met too many guys with inherited money at race meetings not to know the difference in their accent, compared to yours. Accent might not count for much nowadays but it still tells an awful lot about a chap. It’s all there too in their bearing, in their style. Hang your Savile Row bespoke suits. I,’ he forcefully tapped his own chest, ‘have got
your
measure, believe me.’
All anger gone, he could see clearly now, and when he studied Mr Fitch’s face he honestly thought the fellow was about to have a heart attack. He was too kind-hearted not to feel dreadful about it.
‘Here! Let me get you a glass of water. Don’t get up.’ He rang the bell on the desk. The receptionist came in almost before the sound had died away.
‘Glass of water and quick.’
One look at Mr Fitch and she disappeared through a discreet little door and came back with the glass of water.
‘Here we are, Mr Fitch, sip it gently. I’ll get some ice.’
Ford froze with fright. The man’s colour was kind of puce and grey all at the same time, he was breathing in great gasps, and sweating, there were beads of sweat all over his face. What if he died?
The receptionist loosened his shirt collar, pressed his head against the back of his perfectly splendid leather chair and held the bag of ice to his forehead.
‘Breathe gently, Mr Fitch, try to breathe gently. That’s better. Steady. That’s it. Slo-o-ow. Good. Good.’
‘Is he going to be all right?’
‘I think you’d better leave.’
But Mr Fitch, despite his distress, signalled to Ford to sit down again. So he did, feeling guilty and useless and appalling all at the same time.
Gradually the strange colour receded from his face and his breathing became more normal. The receptionist removed the ice bag and Mr Fitch spoke, but not with his usual crisp delivery. ‘Get me a whisky, if you please.’
‘I most certainly shall not, Mr Fitch, not when you’re in this state. An ambulance would be more appropriate. I’ll ring for one immediately.’
‘I didn’t bloody well pay for you to go on a first aid course for you to tell me whether or not I can have a drink. Get me a whisky and one for Ford.’ When she didn’t move to do as she was told he roared, ‘Now!’
The receptionist hesitated, then she caught sight of Mr Fitch’s glare. ‘Why pay for a first aid course for me and then completely ignore my advice?’ she said as she returned with the two whiskies.
‘Because the Health and Safety said I needed a qualified first-aider on the premises and I chose you, so away with the ice bag and leave Mr Barclay and me to talk.’
Neither man spoke at first, just quietly sipped their whiskies. Then Mr Fitch said, ‘Not a word about just now. Don’t want my wife to know; she’s not to be worried. In fact, my wife
mustn’t
know, ever. Right?’
mustn’t
know, ever. Right?’
Ford nodded. He daren’t speak and he needed his whisky just as much as Mr Fitch did.
After he had drained his glass Mr Fitch began to speak. ‘The chap who helped me start my business, when it was just me and him with a stolen wheelbarrow and one shovel between us, was the only one who dared to speak to me like you’ve just done. Kept my feet on the ground all the years he worked for me, even told me when he met Kate the first time that I’d better hurry up and marry her because she’d keep me cut down to size. He reckoned nothing to people who thought too much of themselves, you see.’ Mr Fitch sighed.
‘Right.’
Mr Fitch sat up and leaned his elbows on his desk. ‘We’ll come if you’ll allow me to take back my refusal.’
‘Of course. I’ll put you and your wife on our acceptance list, then?’
Mr Fitch nodded. ‘Good. I shall be delighted to come.’
Ford stood up, reached across the desk and shook hands. ‘Thanks.’
‘I needed that.’
Ford didn’t know if Mr Fitch meant the whisky or the straight talking.
Chapter 14
‘You see, Mum, it’s not fair, is it? All of us can go to the banquet, but I want Jake to go, too. He’d love it, and I’d enjoy it so much more.’
‘Well, darling, unfortunately only people living in Turnham Malpas and Ford’s own family can go. Invitation only, as it says.’
‘I know that. But could I just sneak him in?’
‘How old are you? Six? No, of course you’re sixteen, therefore you know you mustn’t.’
‘They wouldn’t notice just one more.’ Beth pouted, but to no avail.
‘About Jake.’ Caroline sat down on Beth’s bed and took hold of her hand. Beth looked so lovely, so young, so vulnerable sitting up in bed in her Shaun the Sheep pyjamas that were far too small now. Caroline’s heart almost broke. If only she didn’t have to say this. But she had to.
Beth got in first. ‘I know what you’re going to say.’
‘Tell me, then.’
‘You’re going to say that I have to be very careful about Jake, that’s he’s not my type, that’s he’s sex-mad and I’ve to watch out and not let things go too far.’
‘Exactly, my very words. I know this sounds an old-fashioned thing to be saying nowadays
but
. . . my old headmistress always said that it was the woman who kept a relationship in balance.’
but
. . . my old headmistress always said that it was the woman who kept a relationship in balance.’
‘OK! And no sex before marriage, I expect.’
‘What she said was that the woman drove the relationship. If you dressed like a tart men treated you like one, because that was the message you were giving out. If you conducted yourself with dignity and never deliberately egged the man on to go too far, then you would be in control. Let’s face it, girls do dress far too sexily—’
‘Oh come on, Mum. Honestly!’
‘They do, Beth, and then they wonder when men want to go the whole way. I’m saying this because I don’t want anything to prevent you from reaching your absolute potential in life. A husband and babies before you’re twenty-five do that very thing.’
Beth couldn’t bear this kind of talk any longer. ‘Look, Mum, I—’
‘Young men like Jake have great difficulty in controlling what they want most of all. Let’s face it, Jake is up to the brim with testosterone right now and wanting to have sex more than anything in the world.’
‘I want it, too.’
‘Exactly. So that makes two of you. That’s why it’s up to you to keep the matter under control.’
To keep her face hidden from her mother, Beth put her arms round her mother’s neck. ‘But he is gorgeous, you have to admit. He’s just so tempting, so good-looking, and sometimes I can hardly bear for wanting him to kiss me . . . He can kiss blissfully, can Jake, you know. All the girls say so.’
‘I do not want Beth Harris to be another notch on his bed-post. ’
‘Tell me this one thing if you feel you can . . . Did Dad and you get together . . . you know, before you were married? Don’t answer me if you feel it’s too private.’
There was a long silence, so long Beth began to wonder if she’d committed some terrible offence by asking and she desperately wished she hadn’t.
‘Your dad and I met in my surgery,’ Caroline said eventually. ‘I’d only been a fully-fledged GP for about two weeks and had an awful lot to learn. But my first patient that morning was your dad, wearing his clerical collar so I knew exactly who and what he was. I thought my heart had stopped beating and my lungs had burst. I could barely speak, and neither could he. You know that wonderful charisma he has even now, it was all there even though he was ill. He wasn’t looking his best, believe me. He had an appalling cold, his eyes were red and watery, his nose was even redder and he had a fearful cough and a box of tissues under his arm because his nose wouldn’t stop running.’
‘Oh help!’
‘I listened to his chest, between his sneezes, wrote out a prescription to bring his temperature down, told him to go home to bed and stay there, and if there was no improvement in three days he’d to ring for a visit. You’ve no idea how much I longed for him not to improve!’
‘
Did
he ring for a visit?’ Beth asked, having wonderful visions of her mum ministering to him in bed.
Did
he ring for a visit?’ Beth asked, having wonderful visions of her mum ministering to him in bed.
‘No, but a bouquet of flowers arrived at the end of the week, with a thank you card saying that when he was definitely one hundred per cent he would ring me and we’d have a drink together. So that was the start of it all. Four months later we were married. It was the most wonderful four months of my life up to that date, and the same for your dad, too. That’s what I want for you. That’s why I’m asking you to be careful.’
‘I see. Does Alex know all this?’
‘No, but he can. I don’t mind.’
‘Don’t worry about me, will you? I’ll be all right. But he is absolutely spectacular. You can see that, can’t you?’
‘Oh yes, I can, very definitely. Invite him for supper this weekend, Friday or Saturday. Now see here,’ Caroline stood up, ‘it’s late and it’s school tomorrow and you should be asleep. Goodnight, Beth. Thank you for listening to me.’
‘Thank you for telling me. Alex won’t like Jake coming.’
‘He’s too well-mannered to cause a fuss when Jake’s here.’
‘OK, then I’ll ask him. I can see what you mean about knowing when it’s the right person. I wish I’d known Dad when he first met you. I’m not a tart, Mum, you know. I wouldn’t sleep around.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. Night-night.’
Caroline laughed as she heard Beth chuntering to herself as she left her bedroom. It sounded as though she were saying, ‘Much chance I have to go off the rails with Alex standing guard over me.’
So Jake came for supper on the Friday night. He was immaculately dressed, carrying flowers for Caroline and an old school textbook he’d promised to lend Alex. He’d had a lift from someone so the bike had been left at home.
‘Good evening, Doctor Harris, these flowers are for you. Thank you so much for inviting me. This is for Alex; I’ve been trying to remember to lend him it all this term.’
When Caroline, out of natural curiosity, turned it over to see the title, Jake said, ‘Physics. I just hope he understands it better than I did when it was compulsory for me.’ He gave Caroline an amused conspiratorial look and she saw immediately what it was Beth found exciting about him. He wasn’t tall for his age, not like Alex, but he had a certain style which impressed her, and a cheeky grin which was very appealing. On the other hand, she couldn’t forgive the fact that he had deserved a beating from Alex for something undefined.
‘Please, Jake, go into the sitting room. Supper’s almost ready, Beth’s just finishing the white sauce; we won’t be a moment.’
Beth was hiding in the kitchen, not quite able to cope with him being up for inspection.
She glanced up as she heard Caroline’s footsteps. ‘Well? What do you think?’
‘Now I’ve had a proper look at him, he’s certainly got plenty of charm.’
‘Ooh! Good. You like him, then?’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Will Dad?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Knowing full well that Beth had no idea that Peter had been up to Prince Henry’s to see the Head about the fight in the changing rooms, she couldn’t honestly answer that question favourably. She called Peter from his study and Alex from his bedroom, and went into the sitting room to announce to Jake that the supper was all ready and she hoped he didn’t mind eating in the kitchen.
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