Village Matters (15 page)
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘I don’t care what you say, Georgie, we can’t have him serving in the bar for a long time, if ever again.’
Georgie pushed her hair back from her face and pleaded. ‘What’s he going to do if he doesn’t work for us? You know full well he’s not capable of standing on his own two feet, he needs us. We’ve looked after him for sixteen years, it’ll be cruel to have to tell him he’s to go. I could have killed those two last night.’
‘I could see that. You looked full of fight.’
‘I felt scared.’
‘No matter how we feel about Alan, our customers don’t want him here. In a big city he wasn’t nearly so noticeable, but here his idiosyncrasies seem magnified. There is no way that we can sacrifice our livelihood to Alan. I know he’s useless without us, but he’s got to go, so you must make your mind up to it. The insurance will go mad when we send this claim in. Our premium will rocket, and we’ll be working to pay the premiums instead of working to make a profit. We’re in business, Georgie, we’re not running a home for the inadequate.’
‘Inadequate! That’s unkind!’
‘We were up till two this morning clearing up the mess, so I’m not in the mood for being magnanimous, believe me.’
‘No, sorry, and at bottom you know the decision is right. I’ll get in touch with that girl from Penny Fawcett who asked us for a job, and we’ll give her an interview.’
‘We can’t turn him out till he’s better and he’s found somewhere else.’
‘Of course not. I’m not that ruthless.’
Pericles pulled on the lead, wanting a chance to investigate the smells.
‘Pericles, all you think of nowadays is your stomach. You’re getting very greedy.’ As she crossed Shepherd’s Hill, Muriel realised that something odd was afoot. She rounded the corner of the Methodist chapel, now boarded up prior to demolition, and gasped at what she saw. ‘Oh, dear. No! Oh dear. Come! Heel, Pericles.’
Dotted here and there, on the grass between the trees, were parked ramshackle caravans, old converted buses and an assortment of motorised vehicles. There were dogs and
children playing, in front of some fires were burning, and the whole paraphernalia of permanent outdoor existence lay around. As she stood mesmerised by all the activity, two men came towards her each carrying large pickaxes. As they reached her they said: ‘Morning missus, nice day.’
‘Yes, it is.’ They passed her and went directly to the chapel, and began attacking the boarding nailed over the back door.
‘That’s private property, it was a chapel.’
‘Not no more it ain’t,’ one of the men shouted, and continued his attack on the boarding. Two of the big dogs came rushing at Pericles. Muriel picked him up and the dogs began leaping at her to reach him. Pericles struggled with fright, and Muriel shouted. One of the men with a pickaxe bawled at the dogs, ‘Give over.’ But they didn’t stop and he came across and hit them with the handle of his axe. They scurried away howling. ‘Don’t worry missus, they mean no harm. Let him off, he’ll be all right.’
But Muriel hurried away. She crossed the green to give Pericles a chance to run about a little and then hurried back to Ralph.
‘Ralph, Ralph are you up?’ He was just coming downstairs. ‘Oh, Ralph, there you are.’
‘My dear, how did you get your dress so dirty? And . . .’
‘Never mind about my dress, there are travellers camped on the spare land. Dozens of them with big dogs and they’re breaking into the chapel. Oh Ralph, I was so frightened.’
Ralph put his arms around her and held her tightly. ‘This
is
a pretty kettle of fish and no mistake. They didn’t hurt you, did they?’
‘Oh no, it was the dogs jumping up that dirtied my
dress. What are we going to do Ralph?’
‘When you say travellers, how many are you talking about?’
‘There must be at least a dozen vehicles, possibly more, and there’s loads of people and children and dogs, and there’s all their things lying about. Everywhere is littered. Where on earth have they come from?’
‘I don’t know. I think I’ll ring the police.’
‘But the sergeant won’t be able to do anything all by himself, there’s so many of them.’
‘We’ll see. I’ll ring him now. They must have moved in during the night, they weren’t there at ten last night when we walked Pericles, were they?’
‘Not a sign. I’ll make your breakfast while you ring him.’
When the telephone rang, the sergeant was half way through his porridge, and he did enjoy it. He loved the rich dark swirls of black treacle contrasting with the bland flavour of the porridge as it passed over his taste buds. Now, with the phone ringing, it would be turning into a dark brown grey mush and he felt aggrieved.
As he listened to Sir Ralph telling him the bad news, he undid the top button of his pyjamas to give himself more air. He didn’t relish this idea at all. Oh no. He’d need reinforcements, yes, definitely reinforcements.
‘Certainly, Sir Ralph, I’ll get onto it straight away.’ Well, when I’ve finished my porridge that is, he thought. He sat down again, spooned the porridge into his mouth as fast as he could, drank his mug of tea down as quickly as possible, why did she always make it so hot? and raced into the bedroom to get dressed.
His wife called out. ‘You’m can’t go out on duty not shaved. Sir Ralph won’t like that at all ’e won’t, now will ’e?
Only cause trouble you not being shaved, his lordship’ll report you, he will, definite.’
He raced angrily into the bathroom and straight off cut his chin with his razor. This wasn’t his day.
Sir Ralph was waiting for him. He got out his notebook. As soon as he saw the vehicles and the dogs he said, ‘I recognise this lot. They’ve been camped on Arthur Prior’s land for the last three weeks. In his back field down the old cart track. Wonder what made ’em move ’ere.’
Wryly Ralph said, ‘I wonder.’
The sergeant looked at him. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking, Sir Ralph?’
‘Could be,’ he answered. ‘Well, what shall we do then?’
‘First, they’re in trouble for breaking and entering the chapel, and damaging trees what have a preservation order on ’em, look, they’ve chopped off them branches for their fire. I think we shall have to get Culworth to come, it’s too big a job for one man this is. Two of these chaps have been up for grievous but they got off scot free, not enough evidence, but we knew they’d done it all right. Leave it to me, sir, best not get involved. You’re the landowner now, I reckon.’
‘I am, yes.’
‘Right. I’ll let you know.’
Close to the chapel a small crowd was watching events.
‘Who is they, Sir Ralph?’
‘Just travellers. They’ve broken into the chapel . . .’
‘Oh no, the devils, what will they do next?’
‘I sawed them in Arthur Prior’s fields last week, made a right mess there, they have.’
‘We shan’t sleep safe in our beds. Better lock all the doors.’
‘Yer right there. And windows. And keep yer cats in,
case they run short of food.’
‘Oh, don’t be disgusting.’
‘You mark my words.’
Malcolm the milkman stopped his van, and lifted a crate off the back.
‘You’re not selling ’em milk are yer Malcolm?’
‘I’ve a living to earn, if they want milk and they pay me for it, milk they’ll get. ’Scuse me, let me through.’
‘Yer encouraging ’em, you are. Yer a traitor.’
‘We want rid of ’em.’
‘He can wait for his money this week, rotten little money grabber he is.’
Ralph stalked home. ‘MURIEL! Where are you?’
‘Here, dear. What’s happening?’
‘I’m going down to see Arthur Prior, he’s at the bottom of this.’
‘Why? Why has he done it?’
‘You don’t know? Of course you don’t. I’ll tell you the whole story about my dear cousin Arthur.’ Ralph didn’t make any bones about telling her. Her hand to her mouth she listened, horrified.
‘So there you have it. Mainly revenge for past wrongs, I think,’ Ralph concluded.
‘Oh, Ralph, my dear, it’s not your fault. You weren’t even born and neither was he, and they did get a farm of their own, something they would never have been able to aspire to. Well, I never knew all this before. How long have you known?’
‘My father told me when I started at the village school when I was four, he thought I should be forewarned in case anything was said. He found the right words to explain it and somehow I didn’t find it dirty or nasty, because he told me so beautifully. No one at school ever mentioned it to me
and I never did to Arthur, it didn’t seem right somehow.’
‘I should think not indeed.’
‘So there you have it. I shall not give up. He can be as obstructive as he likes, I will still go ahead, because I know it is a good thing for the village and that’s my concern, not Arthur Prior’s hurt feelings or his jealousy.’
‘That’s what it is, isn’t it, jealousy? He feels his father was as much a Templeton as any born with the name. He feels bitter inside.’
‘It must have been a shock to him when I came back, after all those years away.’
‘Of course, yes, they were invited to our evening wedding party and never came, said they already had an engagement elsewhere, so that explains it. I expect he’s angry that you’ve been found to own land, when he thought all that side of the family wealth was over and done with. He’s got two sons, hasn’t he?’
‘He has. Both sons work the farm with him. There is another aspect to this though.’
‘What?’
‘The farm belongs to them only so long as there is a Prior working the land and living on the farm. As soon as that stops, the farm comes to me or any person named Templeton alive at the time.’
‘You mean they don’t
own
it?’
‘No, they pay a small rent each year to the family solicitor, something like twenty-five pounds. A kind of token. It’s been twenty-five pounds all these years.’
‘I see. That must be galling for Arthur. Very galling. Working hard and yet never his own. I expect he must have in his blood what you have in yours, a deep-seated satisfaction from owning land.’
‘Yes, I think perhaps you could be right there.’
‘Ralph, it seems odd they were given a farm so close to the village.’
‘Well, at the time, being almost in Little Derehams was a long way away.’
‘Yes, of course, it would be almost an hour’s walk away, far enough I suppose. No one knew then that Turnham Malpas would become the centre of things, having the only church and the only school and the only Store, because they had their own then, didn’t they? Actually, I’m beginning to feel quite sorry for Arthur.’
Ralph stood up and leant over her to kiss her cheek. ‘You have a kind heart, my dear. A very kind heart, and I love you for it. Now I’m going to see Arthur to give him a piece of my mind. I’ll teach him to meddle in my affairs. Who the devil does he think he is?’
Muriel ran after him down the garden path. ‘Please, Ralph, don’t be hasty, dear, come back in and we’ll talk about it some more.’
‘No, my dear, I’m going. Shan’t be long.’ She watched him back the Mercedes out of the garage and roar off down Pipe and Nook Lane, far faster than was safe. She ran through the house again and out of the front door signalling him to stop, but he raced past the front of the house ignoring her shouts.
He’d never been to the Prior’s farm in all his life. Delicacy forbade it. But there it was, ‘Prior’s Farm’ painted on a smart swinging board at the entrance, He turned right and slowly made his way up the well-tended farm lane into the yard.
Even the best run farms usually have old equipment lying about, or hay scattered around the yard, but not here. Everywhere was immaculate. Except for the distant mooing of cows, it was almost impossible to imagine that a
real live working farm was being run there. Every piece of woodwork was smartly painted, every door hung straight, beside each door were half barrels painted and filled with flowers. A sheepdog came goodnaturedly up to him, wagging its tail. He bent to pat its head.
A curtain moved slightly; someone was watching them. He rang the door bell. No one answered, but Ralph heard footsteps approaching from behind.
‘Yes, and what do you want? Come to view another of your properties, have you?’
Arthur Prior in corduroy trousers, matching cap and a plaid workman’s shirt, stood legs apart, arms folded, awaiting a reply. The two men faced each other. Both stockily built, both white haired, both with the long aristocratic nose of the Templetons and each utterly determined to have his own way.
‘No, I’ve come to see you.’
‘Well I’m here, fire away.’
‘I understand you have some travellers on your land.’
‘Did have.’
‘Right, did have. Was it you persuaded them to camp on the spare land during the night?’
‘Now, as if I’d do a thing like that to you.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s all you’re going to get.’
‘Some kind of joke, is it?’
‘What?’
‘Persuading them to move?’
‘Don’t know nothing about it. Got up this morning and lo and behold they’d gone. Couldn’t believe my eyes, I couldn’t.’
‘I bet.’
‘Betting man are you, then?’
‘I’ll bet you a thousand pounds you won’t get houses built on that land.’
‘I wouldn’t allow you to lay such a bet when I know I shall win.’
‘You bloody well won’t win.’ Arthur stepped closer. He prodded Ralph’s lapel with his strong brown finger. ‘Not this time, Ralphie boy, not this time. You and your family have had it your own way round here for generations, but now it’s my turn.’
‘Houses to rent for country people is wrong, is it?’
‘You making money hand over fist is what’s wrong. You’ve enough money, what do you want more for? You’ll get planning permission, then sell the land, pocket the money and with a smile on your face like a Cheshire cat you’ll be off to some far distant shore with that new wife of yours to spend the proceeds, leaving us with the rabble to contend with.’
‘What I do is my affair. I don’t have to justify myself to you.’
‘Don’t you indeed! Arrogant, that’s what you are, arrogant. Want me to touch my forelock to you, like in the old days. Not me nor one of my sons will
ever
kowtow to you, Ralph Templeton, ever. So off my land . . .’
‘That’s the rub, isn’t it? It’s not your land, that’s why you’re taking this stand. The arrangement wasn’t of my making, you know, nor of yours.’
‘My father offered your father the money for this farm and he refused, refused to sell. Said it wasn’t his to sell, he only held it for his descendants, so we’re in a bind, aren’t we?’