Whispers in the Village (18 page)

Anna detailed the whole story to Ralph and then said by way of explanation. ‘You see, it’s very easy for the clergy to deal with the converted, the willing, the nice ones and ignore the rest, but surely it’s the rest we should be dealing with? They’re the ones who need help. So thinking like that, I took Paddy under my wing. When I had to move here it seemed a golden opportunity to give him a real helping hand. Not just words, but action. Now I realize he’s beginning to take over. I’ve had a fight with him about where he sleeps, insisting he’s upstairs in the attic while I sleep in Beth’s bedroom. To me it wouldn’t be right to use Peter’s bed, but he wanted to sleep there and I threatened to throw him out if he did. I won that battle but it’s the little things. Always being in charge of what we watch on the TV. Not that I see much of it but when I do I like to watch different things from him. The choice is never mine. And he doesn’t help domestically, just expects me to do it all. Cooking, washing, that kind of thing. Maybe I’m getting it all out of proportion but I do know why he’s spreading this malicious rumour.’

‘You do? He hasn’t …’ Ralph took her hand between his and held it firmly.

‘No, of course not. He stole four of Caroline’s Staffordshire figures and sold them in Culworth, but I guessed where he might have sold them and I got them back. So basically he’s getting at me because of that. Mainly. I think.’

‘I see.’ Ralph released her hand. ‘I see. Is he doing a good job at the Big House?’

‘He pretends he doesn’t like it, but he’s never stuck at a job for as long as two days never mind four weeks. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

‘Good. I like the sound of that. I have an idea. Now he’s earning money he could pay his way.’

‘He could, but I’m still waiting.’

Ralph raised an eyebrow. ‘Expects you to keep him, too. Mmm. I think I know someone who would take him as a lodger. I’m sure Mrs Jones would have him and would be able to knock him into shape. Since her boys left home she’s had no one to care for except for Vince and he doesn’t want mothering at all. Someone to mother is what she needs, you know. Might be just what he needs, too.

They sat together, each thinking their own thoughts, and then Ralph stood up. ‘He’d have to pay her, but if she can’t keep him in order no one can. Leave it with me.’

‘I’d be so grateful. You, of all people, know that we’re not … you know …’

‘Don’t fret, my dear. It’s all happened out of the generosity of your spirit, and no one can criticize you for that. It’s mean-minded people causing the trouble. Believe me, I’ll have this sorted before the day is out.’ He took her hand in his and gripped it tightly. ‘You’re a lovely young woman and I mustn’t stand by and see your reputation in ruins. Trust me. I’ll see myself out.’

As Ralph set off for the Village Store he phrased and rephrased the words he would use to reach Greta Jones’s heart. It wouldn’t be easy; his diplomatic skills would be tried to their limits.

Jimbo was delighted to see him. ‘My word, Ralph, it’s not often we see you in here. Now what’s your pleasure? A few slices of my home-baked ham? More of your special cigars? Muriel’s favourite chocolates?’

‘None of those, Jimbo. I’ve just been at the rectory—’

‘Ah!’ Jimbo interrupted him. ‘Sorting out the nasty rumours, then?’

‘You’ve heard?’

‘Who hasn’t? The news flew round the village with the speed of light.’

‘It isn’t true, you know.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Nothing would surprise me these days.’

‘Jimbo! That’s just not fair. The girl has a generous heart and it’s all turned nasty on her. She isn’t at fault, believe me.’

Jimbo eyed Ralph a little sceptically and it angered Ralph.

‘I’m not pleased about the modernization of the services, but on this count the rumours are quite untrue. I’ve set myself the task of putting a stop to it. As of now. So may I have a word with Greta Jones?’

‘You may indeed. Good luck.’ Jimbo smiled ruefully at Ralph but he ignored it. He had a mission and was determined to achieve his goals.

‘Why, Sir Ralph! This is a pleasure.’ Mrs Jones stood up, blushing with surprise, and all of a dither.

‘Mrs Jones, or may I call you Greta?’

‘Well, you’ve known me long enough so I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.’

‘Good. Do sit down, Greta. I’ve come on a mission and think that you’re the only person in the village I could ask.’

He sat on the chair favoured by Jimbo when he and Greta were in discussion. ‘I have a problem and when I considered how to solve it I thought: Now, Greta is used to young men, having had three of her own, and she’s got empty rooms now her Terry and Kenny are out in Canada and Barry’s married. Have you ever thought of taking a gentleman lodger?’

Greta flushed even redder. A lodger. The money would be mighty handy now Vince was retired.

‘He’s had a bad time as a boy and needs, well, he needs mothering. Where he’s staying at the moment it’s causing trouble and reflecting on the one who’s taken him in. Now how about it? You’d be doing him a good turn, in fact, the whole village a good turn.’

In a flash Mrs Jones guessed who it was. And him thieving like there was no tomorrow. ‘You mean that Paddy Cleary?’

‘Er … well … yes, I do. He needs a guiding hand, you see. As I said, mothering really, that’s what he needs. Because he’s never been mothered. He doesn’t realize it but he does.’

‘I’d have to ask Vince. You’re moving him because of the rumours? They’re not true, then? Or are they true and that’s why you’re moving him?’

‘Absolutely not. It’s plainly obvious. She wouldn’t find him attractive, would she, a charming young woman like her.’

Greta had to say it, bold though she was. ‘She’s soon convinced you, Sir Ralph. Not two minutes since you were blazing mad about her changes in the church.’

‘I know. But I was wrong, I should have said nothing. Her heart’s in the right place, you see. Now, what do you think?’

Greta spent a moment pleating the frill round her apron, which was something she did at times of pressure. ‘He could come for his tea and I’d show him the bedroom and that. But he’d have to pay. I can’t afford—’

‘Naturally he’d pay. He’s earning up at the Big House so why shouldn’t he? It could be a real turning point for him. I’d be very grateful if you could see your way.’

‘I’ll talk to Vince tonight. They get on all right in the pub on an evening. The money would be useful, too. Be nice to have a young man about the house again and, after all, I’m used to them misbehaving and that, aren’t I?’ She smiled sadly and apologetically at Ralph.

‘Never been to visit them, then?’

‘Never. Not got that kind of money. And never will have. Our Terry and Kenny daren’t come back home to England just in case.’

‘Well, we’ll have to see about that. Ring me and let me know your decision. You’d be helping everyone.’

After Ralph had left, Mrs Jones thought about the pleasure of having someone who needed caring for.

She furiously attacked the reel of Sellotape and packaged up all her parcels ready for the post with lightning speed. Yes! She’d do it! She would. Something to get her teeth into. She’d show him what having a mother was all about. That was if he’d come. He must! He really must. She decided not to say a word to Vince tonight, leave it for Sir Ralph to sort out before she said a word to him. Waste of time upsetting Vince if Paddy wouldn’t come. He could be awkward, could Vince, no, stubborn was the word. Blinking stubborn.

When Vince set off for the pub that night, Greta went upstairs to decide which room she could let Paddy have. Their Kenny’s had been the smallest one, Terry as usual taking the larger room for himself when Barry left to get married to Pat. Paddy could have the bigger room. The sun came in that window the very first thing each morning, nice for a man who had to be up early for work. Yes, the big room could be his. Before she went to the Store in the morning she’d give it a sort-out and bung all Terry’s belongings in the little bedroom wardrobe and put clean sheets on the bed.

While she watched her soaps, Mrs Jones spent a lovely evening thinking about Paddy coming. It would be nice to have someone young about to offset Vince and his nonexistent conversation. At least there’d be some life in the place.

As soon as she heard Vince at the door she got up to put the kettle on.

They sat down to drink their bedtime cup of tea and Vince switched on
The Ten O’Clock News
and out of the blue he said, ‘Lonely, isn’t it?’

‘What is?’

‘Us at home on our own. Just wish our boys were here. At least they cheered the place up a bit.’

Mrs Jones wondered if this could be her moment to mention Paddy. But she didn’t get a chance because Vince said, ‘Do you feel it’s lonely?’

Cautiously Mrs Jones answered, ‘Yes. Thinking about it only today.’

‘Well, how about if we take in a lodger?’

‘A lodger!’ Mrs Jones thought he’d become psychic overnight. Casually she replied, ‘Who’d want to lodge with us? I ask yer.’

‘There might be someone.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, I’ve been talking in the pub tonight—’

‘No change there then.’

‘And there’s someone …’

Mrs Jones held her breath. Surely it wasn’t …

‘Well, it’s Paddy Cleary actually. Told him I didn’t reckon much to him living at the rectory and he said I could be right and the … well, anyway, before I knew where I was, I was suggesting he might come here. We’ve got two empty bedrooms and—’

Mrs Jones shot out of her chair and shouted, ‘You’ve not said yes without asking me? You have, I can see it in your face. Don’t ask me, what’s got all the work to do. Oh! No. Not me. What if I say no? Eh!’

Vince began to look concerned. ‘He’d be helpful with the garden; you’re always complaining about it. He’d be no trouble.’

‘He’d need feeding and washing done and that. The very least you could have said was you’d ask me first before you said a definite yes.’

‘Come on, Greta love, he’s a nice chap.’

‘That’s not what I’ve heard from our Barry. Thieving he is, wherever he can. And don’t you “Greta love” me just to save your face. I’ll think about it.’

‘He’d need to know tomorrow.’

‘I’m not deciding now, not when you’ve landed it on me all unawares.’ Mrs Jones collected their cups together, clattering them as though she was in high dudgeon, and took them into the kitchen. She ran the tap full on to mask the sound of her laughter and, resting her hands on the edge of the sink, she laughed till she had to stop ’cos she could laugh no more. Talk about Vince playing right into her hands. She couldn’t believe her good luck and wondered what on earth had come over him, making dynamic decisions like this. There was life in the old dog yet then. Bless his little cotton socks. She’d never let on, no not she. He’d have to suffer for this, really suffer. The joke nearly overcame her and she almost went into the living room to tell all to that snake-in-the-grass Vince. But no, she wouldn’t. It was too good a joke to share with him. She’d wait and see how things turned out.

In the rectory, Paddy thought about moving out to Vince Jones’s house and decided it might be a good idea. At least he wouldn’t have Goody-two-shoes-Anna-with-the-banner preaching to him. He could do as he liked there, and he’d an idea Mrs Jones would be used to cooking for men, having had three sons. No, things could turn out very well in that direction.

Having given her decision the following morning that yes, all right, then Paddy could come to live with them so long as he paid his way, perhaps even move in at the weekend, Greta decided to take the opportunity to dye her hair as soon as she got home from the Store. She was just towelling it dry and anxiously awaiting the moment when she could admire the effect in the mirror, when the front door opened and a voice shouted out, ‘Hello-o-o there, anyone at home?’

Greta stood motionless, feeling ridiculous that what had been going to be a private moment had suddenly become a public spectacle. She raced a comb through her nearly dry hair and walked into the living room. There Paddy stood, a holdall at his feet: her new lodger. Her heart went out to him because he looked so in need of caring for, but she masked that fact by saying, ‘I thought you were coming at the weekend.’

He, in turn, was shocked by the brilliant red of her hair, grey with a few mousy brown strands the last time he’d seen her. But he said nothing about it while he got over the surprise. ‘Michelle told me to finish early and get myself moved in. I thought no time like the present, though if it’s not convenient I’ll take my things back to the rectory and come another day.’

Greta looked at the half-empty holdall and said, ‘Is that all you have to bring?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you won’t take up much room.’

‘No. Thank you for taking me in.’

‘Thank you for taking pot luck with us. I must come straight out with it, then we both know where we stand. I shall have to charge sixty-five pounds a week.’ She’d been going to say £55 but changed her mind just before she said it. ‘All in though. Laundry and that. Food.’

‘That sounds very reasonable.’ Best make a good impression, thought Paddy. ‘I was thinking more like seventy pounds. Would that be OK?’