The Village Green Affair (31 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Shaw

BOOK: The Village Green Affair
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When she got up she felt much improved, hungry and clear-headed. Of course she wasn’t going to move into Glebe House. Not likely. She’d been stupid even to give it a moment’s thought. She’d move into a little guest house she knew in Culworth for a few days until she’d found a holiday flat on the outskirts of Culworth to rent for a few weeks, and not let Neville know. Fact was, how the devil had he found out she would be in need of accommodation when she herself had only just found out? Was it coincidence? Could it have been? It was almost as if her phone was being tapped. Liz shuddered. She’d watched too many spy thrillers on TV, that was her trouble. Of course it wasn’t tapped. Was she going mad?
 
However, after that Liz decided not to use the flat land-line but always her mobile - she’d just bought a new one - and rang Titus to tell him.
 
‘I’m sure you’re wrong,’ Titus said. ‘I mean, how could he have the phone tapped? It does sound odd, though.’
 
Liz told him her new mobile number and then said, ‘For a while there I was thinking of moving back into Glebe House, but I’ve come to my senses. At least here or in a guest house he hasn’t got a key. At home I would be conscious that he might walk in at any time. But he’s changed. When I saw him this morning he was wearing shorts and no tie. He was almost unrecognizable. Do you think he’s
really
changed, inside?’
 
Titus heard alarm bells ringing and didn’t like it at all. He changed the subject. ‘It’s the market tomorrow. We’ll go for a picnic. I’ll get the food and things from the stalls, and we’ll treat ourselves to a happy hour. If you want to stay in a guest house, by all means do so. If you like, I can store your excess belongings for a while. That’s not me moving you in. Just a kind gesture. OK?’
 
‘Right. I’ll move tomorrow afternoon, after the picnic. Lovely idea. I’m looking forward to it. See you after I’ve cleared up from nursery, my darling.’
 
 
There was no demonstration that market morning. The protesters had lost heart, Willie in particular, so there had been no more rousing speeches, just a quiet acceptance that the market was there to stay. It was another brilliantly bright morning, with an azure blue sky and just the occasional bird swirling around, catching the thermals. Fran’s cats lingered by the meat van in the vain hope that a tender lamb chop might mistakenly leap off the display, and a busy crowd of punters charged about looking for bargains.
 
Instead of using their bikes, Eddie and Tone had come in on the morning bus. It was packed with market-goers and they were scarcely noticed, dressed as they were in summer gear - shorts, T-shirts and open-toed sandals - and carrying shopping bags, not backpacks. They looked quite different from the last time they’d visited Turnham Malpas on market day. Their last ‘shopping trip’ had been highly successful because not a word had they heard from the police or anyone else about it. Apart from the diamond necklace, which they were still having difficulty selling on, everything else had brought good prices and they were hoping for a repeat of their last visit.
 
They drifted around the stalls, picking up trifles here and there but never actually purchasing anything, just looking as though they would buy something any minute now, and, at the same time, keeping an eye on the houses around the green. By mutual consent they wandered down the path to the church hall, slipped over Willie and Sylvia’s fence, then over the fence of the newly occupied house that had been Andy and Jenny’s - which, by a quick look through the back windows, appeared to have nothing in it but a few sticks of dirt-cheap furniture - and into the back garden of Sir Ralph and Lady Templeton. The back door was locked but Eddie, an experienced locksmith, had it open in a trice. Imagining that the cottage was empty, they began walking cautiously through the immaculate kitchen, without even a bill laid on the worktop waiting to be paid, and to the door of the sitting room. They stood very quietly in the hall for a moment listening for sounds of occupation, not knowing that Sir Ralph was in his study and Muriel fast asleep in bed upstairs, as she had spent most of the night walking about the house unable to sleep.
 
They were dazzled by the number of treasures on display. They collected one here, one there, again making sure they didn’t leave gaps which would draw the owners’ attention to their losses.
 
The furniture! Well, they’d have been delighted to pop that into their shopping bags too, but regretfully . . . Tone set off up the stairs and went straight into the main bedroom. He got the shock of his life when he saw Muriel asleep in bed, and froze when she turned over in her sleep. Her left hand was resting on the top of the sheet and he saw her magnificent engagement ring. Could he possibly slip it off her finger without disturbing her? Her hand was very bony. Perhaps the ring was more loose than it used to be. He tiptoed across the carpet, onto the sheepskin rug on her side of the bed, listened to her slow, deep breathing and, reaching out, took hold of the ring. He wriggled it very slightly to see just how loose it was. It was, and she hadn’t moved a muscle. Poor old girl, poor old thing, like a bag of bones laid there. Despite his sympathy for her he slid the ring carefully over her arthritic, swollen knuckle, passed just below her fingernail, then it was off and in his shopping bag, and Tone was down the stairs tugging at Eddie’s sleeve and pointing to the back door. The two of them got out just as they heard someone knocking on the front door.
 
 
It was Grandmama with a message for Muriel. Well, Ralph would deal with it, but they were all polite and pretended that Muriel still had all her faculties, which patently she hadn’t. Apparently Ralph’s bell was not working and he hadn’t heard her tapping on the door, so Grandmama set off to go round to the back door and there, in full view, were Tone and Eddie making their escape across the garden and into Pipe and Nook Lane.
 
Mobile phone at hand, Grandmama dialled Mac. Within moments he was at her side still clutching two lamb chops he was buying from the meat van.
 
Grandmama was handed the chops, and Mac set off after Tone and Eddie. They’d headed the wrong way down Pipe and Nook, turning up past the Rectory instead of the other way into the Culworth Road, which would mean them having to escape into Rector’s Meadow, now filled with parked cars. Granddad Stubbs, perched comfortably on the chair Barry Jones had made specially for the job, sized up the situation as he saw Tone and Eddie racing up followed by Mac, and, as they rushed through the gateway, he stuck out a foot. Tone tripped and then Eddie, very close behind, tripped over Tone. Mac, who kept very fit, had them both by the scruff before they could get to their feet.
 
‘Got yer!’ bellowed Mac. His problem then was to hold on to them, as they wriggled and squirmed, trying to evade his grip. As luck would have it, Barry Jones arrived just then with Granddad Stubbs’s morning coffee in a thermos.
 
Between the three of them they managed to control Eddie and Tone, though with difficulty. After all, they weren’t going to allow themselves to be arrested on the one morning when they’d got such a good haul so easily. But Mac rang for assistance and a police car was there within minutes, having just dropped off a witness in Penny Fawcett.
 
Grandmama, worried now about Ralph and Muriel, tapped on the back door. Getting no answer, she tentatively went in. The silence in the house was unnerving but she progressed into the hall, dreading she might find the two of them lying bloodied somewhere, having been coshed by the burglars.
 
But when she tried Ralph’s study door all she found was Ralph fast asleep, his head resting on his desk. ‘Ralph, dear, it’s Katherine Charter-Plackett. Is everything all right? Where’s Muriel?’
 
At the sound of Muriel’s name, Ralph raised his head from the desk and stared blearily round. ‘Muriel? Muriel? She’s resting in bed.’
 
‘I’ll just go upstairs then and make sure she’s all right.’
 
‘She’s fine, thank you, there’s no need . . .’
 
But Grandmama was already on her way up the stairs and was soon in the bedroom. Relieved to find her unharmed, Grandmama patted her hand and said, ‘It’s all right, Muriel, just me making sure you’re OK. And you are, aren’t you? I’ll be back in a minute.’
 
Muriel looked confused but nodded her head. Katherine went back downstairs to talk to Ralph. Back in the study Ralph had pulled himself together. ‘So sorry, Katherine. Muriel’s been up a large part of the night - couldn’t sleep, you know - and I must have been catching up. Sorry about that.’
 
‘Don’t you worry. We all need a powernap sometimes.’
 
Ralph smiled. ‘Is that what they call it nowadays?’ Ever conscious of good manner, he asked if she had a message for him.
 
‘Well, I did, but now I need to tell you about something else. I’m wondering if you’re all right because I surprised what looked like two burglars coming out of your back door.’
 
Ralph stiffened with apprehension. ‘Two burglars? You must be mistaken.’
 
‘No, I’m not. Mac’s just gone to catch them, but they’re too far ahead of him. I don’t think he’ll have any luck.’
 
‘What about Muriel?’ Ralph asked anxiously.
 
‘She seems quite unperturbed. She’s just waking up.’
 
Ralph sat down. ‘I’d better see what they’ve taken.’
 
‘Maybe nothing.’
 
But when Ralph went into the sitting room to check Muriel’s ornaments he knew immediately that things were missing, although the chances of Muriel knowing what had gone were very slight.
 
Down the stairs came Muriel crying, ‘Ralph, Ralph, it’s gone.’
 
Ralph shook his head at Grandmama behind Muriel’s back. ‘Nothing’s gone, my darling, you’ve been asleep and you’re all mixed up. See, we have Katherine here visiting. Had we better get dressed?’
 
‘No, not till I’ve found it. I must find it. I wonder where I put it?’ Muriel wandered aimlessly about, lifting things, opening drawers, taking books off the shelves and searching behind them. ‘I don’t understand it.’ She scowled at Katherine. ‘Did you take it?’ she asked.
 
This came as a surprise to Grandmama, and she tried hard not to reply sounding indignant. That would never do. ‘No, Muriel, I didn’t. Whatever “it” is.’
 
Ralph whispered, ‘I’ll distract her, she’ll soon forget.’
 
Taking Muriel by the arm, Ralph guided her back upstairs calling out, ‘Thanks for visiting, Katherine.’
 
Grandmama decided that Ralph must be almost as muddled as Muriel, for he appeared not the slightest bit concerned that he’d been burgled. Unable to work out the complicated keys and locks on the front door, installed to keep Muriel in, Grandmama went out via the back door and bumped into Mac rushing back.
 
‘We got ’em,’ he announced. ‘Both of ’em. They’re the same ones that stole from Glebe House. I recognize ’em. Right, I’ll go in and speak to Sir Ralph.’
 
‘You’ll have to leave it for now. He’s trying to get Muriel bathed and dressed, so he could be a long time. Give me five!’ She held up her hand and Mac held up his, and they slapped them together in triumph.
 
‘We make a good pair, don’t we?’ Grandmama laughed.
 
Mac agreed. ‘They could sack that lot in Culworth and just pay you and me!’
 
He roared with laughter and so did Grandmama in a most unladylike manner. She felt that she’d justified her existence this morning and no mistake.
 
Mac said, as he took possession of his two lamb chops, ‘I might need you as a witness. I’ll let you know.’
 
As Grandmama went home, her heart broke for Muriel. Dear, dear Muriel, who’d been such a stalwart in the village all the years she’d been there. She remembered the times Muriel had tried to keep them all behaving like ladies, for instance, when the WI had suggested sponsored skinny-dipping as a fundraiser. Now it seemed that only Caroline’s Beth could get through to her. More than once Grandmama had seen Beth taking her for a stroll round the Store as part of her Girl Guide badge work, making sense of Muriel’s wanderings and treating her with such respect. Surprising how the young can have such empathy with the old, but then that was all part of Beth and what she’d inherited from her father. As for poor Ralph, at his age he must be exhausted caring for her full-time as he so obviously had to do. It was pride that kept him going and not asking for help.
 
She’d go round to find Jimbo and tell him of her exploits. But, of course, he was on his gateaux stall, taking in the money like there was no tomorrow with no time for idle, non-productive chatter. So Grandmama went instead to find Harriet. Now
she
would be interested.
 
They had a chat in the back kitchen seated in two chairs provided for the staff, drinking iced ginger beer and munching some homemade marble cake, which sold well in the Store.

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