Village Affairs (20 page)

Mrs Pringle rose to the bait beautifully.

'Of course, I'm doing too much! It's me nature. "You're a giver, not a taker, my girl," my old mother used to say, and I fair gets wore out. What with this 'ere school to keep clean-well,
try
to keep clean would be truer—and our Minnie driving me mad and the worry over this place closing next year—'

'Closing next year?' I echoed in astonishment. 'Who told you that?'

Mrs Pringle looked surprised in her turn.

'Why, it's general knowledge in the village! And at Beech Green, and at Caxley, come to that. Why else are they havin' new buildings at Mr Annett's? And what about that managers' meeting? I tell you, Miss Read, you must be the last person to know. It's the talk of the parish, and a fine old rumpus there's going to be before long!'

I gazed at her, speechless with dismay. All my old worries, suspended for some weeks, and ignored because of more pressing claims on my time, now flocked back to haunt me, like so many evil birds.

'So it's no wonder I'm not meself,' continued Mrs Pringle, with some satisfaction. 'I can feel meself growing old afore my rime. It's as much as I can do to get round my own housework these days, let alone this lot. You'll see my place looking like Mrs Coggs's before long, I shouldn't wonder.'

'Never!' I said, finding my voice.

'Which reminds me,' said my cleaner, picking a piece of squashed clay from the front desk, 'that silly woman's been in Court, and got to go again in three weeks.'

'Why?'

'Them magistrates want reports on her before passing sentence. At least that's what
The Caxley Chronicle
said.'

She snorted with disgust.

'Reports! I ask you! I could have given 'em a report on Mrs Coggs, on the spot. It wouldn't have needed three weeks, if I'd been consulted!'

She straightened up and went, limping pathetically, to the lobby.

'Bring any more of that dratted snow in here,' I heard her shout threateningly, 'and I'll larrup the lot of you!'

'Can't help it,' Patrick shouted back impudently. 'And anyway, it's started again, so there'll be lots more, for days and days and days!'

He sounded exceedingly happy about it. Mrs Pringle's rumblings could be heard in answer, but I could not catch the exact words.

Above the turmoil Patrick's clear treble rang out triumphantly.

'And anyway, I likes it!'

THE Court at Caxley meets twice a week, and Mrs Coggs duly appeared three weeks after her first attendance.

The Vicar had promised to escort her, and to make himself available to speak on her behalf, should the magistrates so allow, but on the very day of the hearing Mr Partridge was stricken with gastric influenza, and was obliged to keep to his bed.

Mrs Partridge, having left various drinks and some very unpleasant medicine on the bedside table, left the patient and collected Mrs Coggs herself. The Vicar, ill as he was, nevertheless struggled into an upright position for long enough to write a letter to the Court expressing his view on Mrs Coggs's hitherto blameless character, and his apologies for absence.

Armed with this, Mrs Partridge entered the annexe to the Court and prepared to wait indefinitely with her luckless companion.

When the case was called, Mrs Coggs faced the bench with apathetic bewilderment, and Mrs Partridge sat at the back, feeling over-awed by the general solemnity.

Reports were handed up to the magistrates by the probation officer, and silence reigned as they perused them. Every now and again old Miss Dewbury gave a snort of disgust. Her fellow-magistrates were quite used to this. It did not express shock at the facts presented by the probation officer, but
simply impatience with such dreadful phrases as 'peer group', 'siblings' and 'meaningful relationship' with which such reports are invariably sprinkled, and which drove Miss Dewbury, as a lover of plain English, near to despair.

Mrs Partridge gave the Vicar's letter to the usher, who duly gave it to the clerk, who gave it to the magistrates, to add to their papers.

At length, Colonel Austin rose saying gruffly: 'The bench will retire to consider this case,' and the three magistrates, papers in hand, made their way to the fastness of the retiring room. The clerk to the justices, the usher, the solicitors and general public were just wondering if there would be time for a quick cup of hot liquid, from a machine in the lobby labelled
TEA
or
COFFEE
but bearing no resemblance to either, or better still, a hasty smoke, when the magistrates returned and hope was deferred.

'We propose,' said Colonel Austin to the trembling Mrs Coggs, 'to make a probation order for a period of two years. Just listen carefully.'

He turned over a dozen or so pages of a booklet before him. His fellow-magistrates were used to this delay, and their chairman's growing impatience as he stumbled through 'Taking the Oath on the Koran', 'Conditional Discharge' and other irrelevant matters, and were relieved when their ever-ready clerk leapt to his feet and found the place for him, with the sort of fatherly smile fond papas give their offspring when they have tracked down the collect for the day at matins.

Colonel Austin read out the order in a military fashion, and on being asked if she would comply with the requirements, Mrs Coggs said:

'Yes, please, sir. Yes, sir, thank you.'

'You may stand down,' said Colonel Austin, and Mrs Coggs, still quaking, was led by the usher to Mrs Partridge who accompanied her from the Court, closely pursued by the probation officer.

'She got off lightly,' said Mrs Pringle later to me. 'Wouldn't have got probation in my mother's day. I wonder they didn't let her off altogether.'

'It means that someone will have access to the household,' I said mildly, 'and surely that's a good idea. Arthur will be out before her probation order ends, and I think it is a very good thing that she'll be having some guidance then.'

'But what about them things she took? Never paid for 'em!'

'They were returned at the time,' I said.

'Well, I wouldn't want to eat anything Mrs Coggs had been handling,' said Mrs Pringle, determined to have the last word and making sure by leaving me rapidly.

The rumours of closure still rumbled about the village, but I did my best to ignore them, despite inner qualms.

George Annett, however, brought all my fears to the fore again by calling in on choir practice night to acquaint me with a new problem.

'I heard today,' he said, 'that Mrs Allen is leaving at the end of this term. She's only got a couple of years to do, but her husband has had a stroke, and she's decided to give up now. What about it?'

I felt a little nettled. I like plenty of time to consider things. Too much, Amy tells me. Some things are better decided at once.

'What about what?' I said, to gain time.

'Putting in for the post, of course.' said George impatiently.
'It's one of the largest junior schools in Caxley, and very well thought of. Suit you well.'

'I don't think I really want it,' I said slowly, 'and anyway, after such a small school as this one, I doubt if I stand a chance.'

'Rubbish!' exclaimed George. 'You're dam' well qualified, and you know the county want to appoint from their own people at the moment, before advertising. You stand as good a chance, or better, than the rest. You think about it, my girl.'

He vanished churchwards, and left me in turmoil.

How I hate having to make a decision! I have the reputation, I heard once with amazement, of making up my mind very swiftly. The answer is that I find suspense so exhausting that I decide quickly in order to cut short the agony.

Now, here I was again, faced with 'Shall I?' or 'Shan't I?' and very unpleasant I found it. Mrs Allen's school was on one of the new estates on the edge of Caxley, and had earned a shining reputation for solid schooling with fun thrown in. It would be a post which would attract a great many applicants, and I spoke truly when I told Mr Annett that my chances would be slight.

On the whole, I felt that I should be wasting my time to apply. Then too, there was the problem of a house. No doubt, I should be allowed to stay on at Fairacre for a time, but if the school closed, then presumably the school house would be sold when the rest of the property came on the market.

I certainly had no money to buy a house in Caxley, and anyway, would I want one? Oh dear, why did George have to unsettle me like this?

I pottered about distractedly in the kitchen, wet dishcloth
in hand, wiping the top of the cooker. The stains seemed worse than usual and I squeezed a large dollop of liquid cleaner on to the top and rubbed bemusedly.

If only I could hear something definite from the office! It would be disastrous if I applied for that post and got it—some hope, I thought—and then found that Fairacre School was to stay as it was. What a problem!

The stains seemed to be a problem too, and on investigation, I found that I had squeezed a dollop of hand lotion instead of cleaner on to the surface. The stove was not improved.

I chucked the dishcloth into the sink and went to get a glass of sherry. At times, drink is a great solace.

The snow lingered on into February, lying under the hedges and along the sides of the lanes.

'Waiting for more to come,' Mr Willet told me, with morose satisfaction. 'I fair 'ates to see it laying this time of year! Still plenty of weeks to get another lot.'

'Cheer up,' I said. 'There are some snowdrops in bud at the end of the garden, and some lovely yellow aconites showing. And the children brought catkins for the nature table—a bit stubby yet, but cheering all the same.'

'Well, you was always one for looking on the bright side,' said Mr Willet. 'Heard any more about this 'ere school closing? Someone told me Mrs Allen's leaving. That'd suit you a treat, that school of hers. Should think about it, if I was you.'

As I had done exactly that for a considerable time, with no firm result, I found Mr Willet's remarks a little trying.

'No, I haven't heard any more,' I said, 'and I don't think I should get that job, even if I wanted it.'

'Well, there's plenty in the village thinks you would, when this place shuts up—'

'What do you mean? "When this place shuts up?" We don't know that it will!' I broke in crossly.

'No need to fly off the handle,' said Mr Willet. 'I'm only saying what's going the rounds in Fairacre. If you ask me, it's time the village had a say in this business. It's fair upsetting for us all, and we don't want to see you go. You knows that.'

I began to feel ashamed of my rudeness, and apologised.

'Oh, don't you let that trouble you,' replied Mr Willet easily. 'It's a worrying time, especially for you, and at a funny age.'

And on this unsatisfactory note he left me.

The Vicar appeared at playtime, and I took him across the playground, dodging boisterous children in full flight, to have a cup of coffee while Hilary coped with playground duty.

The gastric influenza, which had prostrated him at the time of Mrs Coggs's Court appearance, had left him looking remarkably pale and shaky, and he seemed glad to put his moulting leopard skin gloves on the table, and sip hot coffee. Tibby, unused to mid-morning visitors, graciously climbed on to his lap and purred a welcome.

'You really have the gift of making a proper home,' smiled Mr Partridge. 'And, of course, a cat is absolutely essential to that. I hope you'll be here for many, many years.'

'It rather depends on the county,' I told him. 'If only we knew!'

'It's about that that I've come,' said the Vicar. My heart sank. Had he, as chairman of the managers, heard at last?

'I've no further news from the office,' he said, and my heart started beating again. 'But there are so many rumours and conjectures going round the village, that I've had a word with the other managers, and we feel we should call a public meeting to air our views.'

'An excellent idea!'

'I'm glad you agree. I feel we should put everything possible before that fellow Rochester—'

'Salisbury,'
I broke in. 'Rochester was in
Jane Eyre.'

'Of course. Salisbury then—so that the authority has some idea of the strong reaction to this proposal of closing the school. You'll be there, naturally.'

'When?'

'Now you're asking! It will need to be in the village hall, and what with the Cubs and Brownies, and square dancing, and Women's Institute and the muscular dystrophy jumble sale and three wedding receptions, it's quite a problem to find a date. However, something will turn up, and meanwhile we
must put up posters, and perhaps the children could write a note to take home?'

'Willingly, but we shall have to know the date.'

The Vicar picked up his gloves, deposited Tibby tenderly on another chair, from which the animal got down immediately with umbrage, and made for the door.

'So you will! What a wonderful grasp of affairs you have, Miss Read! I wish I were as practical. I think I'd better spend the rest of the morning working out a few dates with the managers, and then I'll call again with the result.'