The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (26 page)

She noticed his hands were trembling. He looked up at her. ‘What a find, listen.’ Gilbert hummed a few bars. ‘No,
that’s not right, no. Look, bear with me, we’ll go and try them on the organ.’

She followed him into the church, unable to appreciate how someone could grow so excited over a few handwritten crotchets and quavers. He swung his legs over the organ seat and switched on. Gilbert then looked at her with glowing eyes. ‘You never know, you could have found something of real value. Unknown, never performed. What a triumph!’

Louise began to catch his excitement. ‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. Now here we go.’ Gilbert could only play the organ as he would a piano, but the melody was enchanting. ‘Here are the words. You sing your part, I’ll sing mine.’

The two of them had tried it. They’d had several stops and starts before they got it right and in parts Gilbert had difficulty reading the notes because they were so faded, but together they worked it out.

‘It’s wonderful! By the style, it’s late eighteenth- or early nineteenth-century, I should think. Wait till I tell people about this. No composer’s name though, what a pity.’ Gilbert turned off the organ. ‘With a bit of work on it I could use this in church. Clever girl, clever girl. What a find.’

She was warmed by his enthusiasm. ‘That’s not the only bit of news.’

‘No? What other treasures are you about to unearth?’

‘That’s a highly appropriate way of saying it, actually.’

‘Yes?’ He put his head on one side, reminding her of a heron she’d seen once, watching for fish by the beck on the spare land.

‘There’s been what we think are Roman ruins found under the lawn up at the Big House.’

She almost jumped back with shock at his response. He appeared to have been electrified.
‘At the Big House?’

‘Yes. They were digging to put in these new sewers, and they found interesting bits and the men won’t go any further. They’ve had trouble before, you see.’

Gilbert paced about the aisle with excitement. ‘I want to see. Not been to the office for my messages. Got back too late. Don’t know anything about it. This could be a major find. Oh yes. I don’t suppose we could … No, of course not.’

‘Could what?’

‘Go and take a peep. Just a little peep, don’t you know.’ He’d begged with the innocence of a child wanting to peep at a birthday present before the day.

‘I work up there now, for a while anyway, so perhaps … I know exactly where it is.’

He eyed her speculatively. ‘Let’s, shall we?’

‘There’s only a skeleton staff with it being the weekend, so no one of any importance will see us.’

‘Let’s go.’

Louise had noticed Gilbert blanch when he saw the diggers. ‘Oh my God! They’ve got to be stopped.’

‘Don’t worry, they have stopped. It’s a question of whether Mr Fitch will permit anyone to investigate. He wants everything finished because of the Show. It’s to be his grand gesture in his Lord of the Manor campaign.’

Gilbert waved his hand in disdain. ‘That! That’s nothing, nothing at all. Trivial at best.’

‘What is, his ambition or the Show?’

‘Both.’

‘Both?’ Louise was horrified by his attitude, and for a moment rendered speechless. She stuttered and gasped and eventually came out with, ‘But I’ve put an awful lot of work
into the Show, and everyone’s looking forward to it. We’ve got Morris Dancers …’

He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I know about them.’

‘Hot-air balloon, children’s fancy dress, tug of war, you name it. So many people are involved, so much work. We
can’t
cancel it.’

‘If this proves important, nothing can be done till we’ve fully excavated it. Come on, jump down, let’s see what we can find.’ Louise had looked down into the trench. She could see bits of mosaic here and there and what appeared to be something earthenware poking out of the side.

Fascinated, despite her dislike of dirt and mess, she’d allowed him to grip her hand and help her in.

Her mother had been at home when she got back.

‘Louise! What on earth have you done? Where
have
you been, you’re filthy! Good heavens. Take your shoes off – don’t put them on the carpet. I’ll get a newspaper. Mind your skirt on the wall. Better just take your dress off and give it to me. Oh dear.’ Louise didn’t get a chance to explain until she’d showered and put on fresh clothes.

‘Come on, then,’ Sheila Bissett demanded. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘If you laugh I shall never forgive you.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I’ve been up at the Big House with Gilbert Johns looking at the Roman stuff in the trench.’

‘You’ve been digging?’

‘Well, not digging exactly, but he found one of those trowel things in his pocket and we had a bit of a poke around.’

‘Bit! You look as if you’ve been laying the sewers singlehanded.’

‘Not quite, Mother.’

‘Not far off. So what does he say?’

‘They mustn’t lay any more pipes till he’s had a chance to investigate properly. Gilbert being Gilbert says the Show is a minor consideration. I could have slaughtered him for that.’

‘Did he indeed! Minor consideration! What about all my ladies and their flower arrangements? One of them’s been all the way to Wales to get a piece of slate exactly the right shape for her display. I can hardly tell
her
it’s all off.’

‘We’ll have to see. Mr Fitch will sort it out.’

From her position behind the reception desk she could see Mr Fitch striding back. Perhaps she was getting fanciful but she thought she could see smoke coming out of his ears.

‘Do you know this bloody Gilbert?’

Feeling like a traitor she said, ‘Vaguely. Seen him in church on Sundays.’

‘Thinks he’s got power – well, he’s seen nothing yet. Get my MP on the phone pronto.’

‘The one in London or the one here?’

Mr Fitch snorted. ‘Both!’ He stalked into his office and shut the door.

All week Mr Fitch struggled to make some common sense out of the situation. To Louise’s dismay, it was Gilbert who came with a team of people to start the dig. Every morning Mr Fitch stood at the window nearest the reception desk watching and waiting.

‘I’ll get the measure of this chap before the week is out. Bloody man. Never argues, never shouts. I could deal with him if he did. Just gets on as if I haven’t spoken. Never been ignored like this in all my life. He’s a menace or a maniac, I don’t know which. Married, is he?’

‘No.’

‘Thought not. Divorced?’

‘No, never married at all.’

‘Oh I see, he’s one of those.’

‘He most certainly isn’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well,’ Louise thought quickly but couldn’t come up with anything more decisive than, ‘he isn’t, that’s all.’ Then she blushed. Mr Fitch eyed her curiously.

‘Where’s he live?’

‘Just outside Little Derehams, I think.’

‘Rented?’

‘No idea. I’ve said I don’t know him that well. I’m sorry.’

‘Choirmaster?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll get him somehow. I know – do the boys need new surplices?’

‘Sir Ralph bought them some a while back.’

Mr Fitch impatiently turned away from the window. ‘He would! Is there anything else they need? Anything I could buy to put pressure on him to do as I say? Organ need repairing, updating – you know the sort of thing. I’ll buy this or that if you’ll …’

‘Not that I know of. I could always ask.’

Mr Fitch looked speculatively at her and made a decision. ‘You do that.’ He approached her and, staring her straight in the eye, barked out: ‘But remember whose side you are on.
Mine!
’

Louise quailed a little at his threat. It wasn’t often she was intimidated by a man, but Mr Fitch could do just that. She made up her mind that in her coffee break she’d go and have a word with Gilbert.

‘Here! Take a look at this.’ Louise looked down into the
trench where he was working. He’d cleared an area about three feet square, and exposed an almost intact piece of mosaic flooring. ‘Brilliant, eh?’

‘Definitely!’ The colours weren’t distinct because the soil was only partially cleared away, but she could see heavenly rusty red and a kind of grey-white colour in the pattern.

‘Gilbert.’

He looked vaguely up at her and said, ‘Yes?’

‘Mr Fitch wants to know if there’s anything you need for the choir. Like new robes or music or anything, or the organ updating.’

He stopped his gentle scraping of the mosaic, wiped his hands on his trousers and gazed at her. ‘I hope he doesn’t imagine he’s dealing with a fool.’

‘Oh no, nothing like that, but that’s the message. He asked me to enquire.’

‘There’s nothing, thanks all the same.’ He called an instruction to one of his team working just beyond him in the trench, then said to her, ‘There’s no way he can stop this work going ahead, you know.’

‘Yes, but when will it be finished? We need to know.
I
need to know, not just Mr Fitch. All our plans are on hold, you see.’

‘Have your Show next year instead then.’

‘Gilbert, that’s no answer!’

‘It is. I’ve said postpone till next year. This,’ he pointed to the exposed floor, ‘could be of national importance.’

‘If it’s just this little bit, we could fence it off and make a detour with the pipes and then the men could finish the sewers and you could have your bit of fun too.’

‘
Bit of fun?
And there was I, thinking I’d found someone with a soul.’ Gilbert shook his head and sadly turned his back on her and began working again.

‘Oh, you have, but you’re not being fair. I was only trying to work something out to everyone’s benefit.’

‘I have no idea at this moment of the extent of this site. It could be just this bit or it could cover acres.’

‘Acres? Mr Fitch won’t have that.’

‘Oh, won’t he? You just wait and see.’

In The Royal Oak the Roman ruins were discussed with fervour. Vera decided that Mr Fitch would want to cover everything up.

‘He’ll do like they do when there’s a preservation order on old trees. It was in the paper a while back. Builder wanted to cut some old oaks down, Council said not on your Nellie, so he felled ’em about five o’clock one Bank Holiday Monday morning. Daft Council said they couldn’t understand him doing it at a time when no one was about to stop him. I sometimes wonder about these councillors.’

Jimmy asked what on earth trees had to do with Roman ruins.

‘Same thing but different. He’ll get some other company to come, at the weekend of course, and get it all filled in and then look us straight in the face and say, “What Roman ruins? Where are they?” There’ll be no answer to that because they won’t be there no more and the Romans haven’t left an address book have they, to let us all know?’

‘Gilbert Johns is digging up there,’ Willie said.

‘Well, he’s about as much use as a yard of pump-water. My cousin Dottie cleans for ’im. She’s not allowed to move a thing. There’s old rubbish all over the place. As soon as one lot goes another lot takes its place. Drives her mad, it does. And books, they’re everywhere. If she says should she sort some out to go to a jumble sale he nearly lies down and dies. “Dottie,” he says in that sad voice of his, “these are
my children, my life’s blood. How can I thrust them out into an uncaring world?” Still, he pays well and never complains if she has one of her turns and can only flick ’er duster.’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘Seems funny to me. How can yer make a living poking about with bits of old stone and that? Beats me. It’s not like a man’s job, is it?’

‘Takes all sorts, Jimmy.’ Willie shook his head. ‘Talking of which, what’s Louise doing about the Show?’

‘Latest is they’re still waiting to see what’s happening about the ruins. They say old Fitch is nearly blowing a gasket. Blazing, he is. Told her off for telling Gilbert. Asked her who exactly it is she’s working for.’

‘Yer start to lose interest in growing stuff, when yer don’t even know if there’s going to be any Show.’

Jimmy shook his head sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Fitch’ll sort something out. Ridiculous state of affairs, you can’t please yerself on yer own land now. Things is coming to a pretty pitch. When my grandad was a boy you were master of yer own destiny and what you owned you owned. Not nowadays, nowadays, it’s …’

Vera shuffled about impatiently. ‘You two going to put the world to rights, because if you are, I’m off. It’s not the same since Pat stopped coming in.’

Jimmy felt annoyed by Vera’s uncharitable attitude. ‘You should be glad she’s found someone.’

‘Oh, I am, but …’

‘Well?’

‘I am, I said!’

‘There’s more to it than that. I can tell.’

‘No, there isn’t.’

‘There is. Go on, tell us, we’ve a right to know, Willie and me. We’ve looked after ’er interests all these years.’