Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) (8 page)

Harriet flung the duvet off, dropped her feet to the floor and was about to set off for Fran’s bedroom when Jimbo caught hold of her wrist. ‘Get back in bed and let’s have another think.’

‘I’m going. Let go.’

‘Please, Harriet, not now. Tomorrow. It’s her day off, do it then, not when you’re already furious. Talk to her when you’re calm. You could do more harm then good right now. Please.’

Some of the anger went out of Harriet at that moment. ‘Of course tomorrow would be more sensible.’ She got back into bed saying, ‘I’ll never sleep a wink all night. We’ve a right to be angry, haven’t we? Oh, Jimbo!’

‘Don’t worry, darling. She has to learn about life somehow, hasn’t she?’

‘But with him? You see, he knows at bottom it isn’t right. Otherwise he’d be more open with us about his feelings, wouldn’t he?’

Fran always stayed in bed at least until eleven or even twelve o’clock if her day off was during the week, and this was no exception. She lingered in the bath instead of showering and then she rolled downstairs just in time for her lunch.

‘Mum? Oh, there you are.’

‘Thought we’d have lunch here in the kitchen, because I need to work this afternoon and I’ve no time for sitting around. Big bowl of extra-nourishing home-made soup, with rolls, then cheese and biscuits and some lovely fresh fruit, all neatly chopped into a salad. Sound OK? Cream?’

‘Lovely. Thanks.’

Harriet didn’t mention their conversation last night, hoping Fran would do so first. And she did. ‘You know, Mum, Chris is lovely, really lovely. I wish you knew him better.’

‘Invite him here this weekend. Why not? There’s no one else here. The others aren’t coming home.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Sunday. For lunch. Is he vegetarian or anything?’

‘No, he’s easy to please.’

‘Is he?’

This loaded question halted Fran in her tracks. ‘Don’t pry.’

‘Can I say something, and then I won’t utter another word about him until he arrives on Sunday.’

Fran nodded.

‘To begin with, he’s too old for you, too adult, too experienced in the ways of the world, too smooth. But he is
gloriously
good-looking, I can’t deny that, no one can.’

‘He is, isn’t he? A perfectly splendid specimen of a man.’

‘But, Fran—’

‘I can’t help myself, Mum. He’s so interesting, such fun. Please like him for my sake. Please, Mum.’ Fran looked her mother straight in the eye, begging her approval; and Harriet found she couldn’t deny her daughter the pleasure of knowing her mother approved.

‘I’ll reserve my judgement until Sunday. If he remembers his manners and knows how to eat peas nicely I might begin to like him.’ Harriet grinned to ensure Fran knew she was joking.

Fran smiled her appreciation. ‘He’s done such fantastic things. He nearly got killed in an avalanche, you know.’

Harriet, ashamed of herself because at that moment she heartily wished he had, smiled. ‘He’s lived dangerously then.’

‘That’s what makes him so exciting. I wish I’d done dangerous things, I’ve done nothing at all really. Absolutely nothing.’

‘You could have gone to university, done some dangerous things there.’

‘Yes, but I’m doing what I want to do at the store.’

‘In that case you are very lucky. Loads of people your age haven’t even got a job, never mind one they like.’

‘You’ll like him, I know you will.’ Fran stared into the far distance, lost in her thoughts, and briefly Harriet envied her.

Then Fran said, ‘He’s just
delicious
.’

Harriet knew from the way she said ‘
delicious
’ that Fran had been far closer to Chris than she would have wished, and Harriet hated him for this. He wasn’t such a fool as not to know how inexperienced Fran was. She’d kill him with one of her own kitchen knives. She would. Ten years in prison would be a small price to pay. With her qualifications she’d inveigle herself into the prison kitchens, transform the food, write a recipe book and be thanked for her sterling work in the interests of the prison population. In fact they might even find there was a sudden desire on the part of the prison population to turn over a new leaf, entirely due to the improvement in their diet, and they’d all strive to become first-class citizens. She glanced at Fran and was tempted to let her in on the secret just for a joke, but decided no. Not right now.

‘Mum!’

‘Mmm?’

‘Chris isn’t keen on shellfish, or curries. Just thought I’d tell you.’

‘Right. Thanks. More fruit salad?’

‘No, thanks. I won’t be in tonight, by the way.’

‘OK. Going somewhere nice?’ But Harriet didn’t get an answer.

Sunday came round all too quickly, for both Harriet and Jimbo, and also for Fran who, although delighted that Chris was coming to lunch, had unexpectedly now got serious misgivings about it. She was sure it wasn’t, but could it possibly be a ploy on her mother’s part to let Chris know how much her parents disliked the idea of the two of them together? But he was wonderful, absolutely wonderful, and the idea of going to Brazil to live with him was monstrously tempting to someone like herself who’d led such a sheltered life. Chris had never said those exact words, but how else could they continue their relationship if she didn’t go back with him to Brazil? Chris had mentioned several times about ‘when he went back to Brazil’, as though getting her to warm to the idea. He did have a flat of his own, though he didn’t seem to spend much time in it because he was always talking about the meals he ate at his mother’s, and how his laundry was done by a maid who worked for his mother.

At twelve exactly the doorbell rang, the door opened and a voice called out, ‘It’s me, Chris Templeton, shall I come in?’

He looked completely and absolutely perfect. It was a winter’s day, but even so, the sun was shining brightly on his fair hair. He wore a kind of tweed suit that looked superb, a far cry from the ones Sir Ronald Bissett wore for Sheila’s sake. It was both very smart and casual at the same time, and Harriet and Jimbo knew for certain it would have cost the earth. Harriet liked his strong grip as they shook hands. Jimbo shook his hand too, but Fran got a discreet kiss on her cheek nearer her ear than her mouth, as though Chris was trying to impress on them that Fran and he were not intimate, although Harriet knew differently.

Jimbo, being the suave host that he was, wandered off with Chris to the drinks cabinet so he could choose what he would prefer. ‘Take your pick. Fran has gin with whatever, and so does Harriet.’

‘I’ll have whisky, neat, if that’s all right with you.’

Jimbo chose the same purposely. ‘Glenfiddich?’

‘Yes, please.’ Chris took an appreciative look around the dining room. ‘Lovely house you’ve got here. I’m slowly getting used to Johnny’s old house. We’ve nothing like it back in Brazil as you can imagine. The architecture is exactly right for Johnny though. Wonderful solid old woodwork. Frankly I’m more keen on the modern stuff, but there we are. It wasn’t me who inherited, so it’s all worked out for the best. I’m amazed that though he
owns
the house he can’t just tear it all out and modernise it. Still I suppose if you don’t have rules about what you can and can’t do with an ancient house, you wouldn’t have any old houses left. But would that be a bad thing, I ask?’

‘We like our old houses, and we don’t want to lose them.’

‘But we have to advance into the twenty-first century, and keeping the old perhaps means we allow ourselves to be held back.’

‘What’s wrong with being held back? The old houses are perfectly splendid and very comfortable to live in. The house Alice used to live in has an inglenook fireplace in the kitchen, and everyone naturally gravitates there.’

‘Like the one Johnny has in the hall?’

‘Exactly, but not as big of course. They have an inglenook fireplace in the pub; have you seen that?’

‘No, I can’t say I’ve noticed.’ Chris offered to carry the tray. ‘I’ve a good steady hand, even when I’m drunk.’

‘We’ll take the drinks into the sitting room, OK?’ Chris followed Jimbo, carefully balancing the tray so as not to spill anything on Harriet’s immaculate cream carpet.

‘How’s business? Given the current downturn?’ Chris asked. In the absence of Harriet and Fran they chatted about the store and the old barn, and the variety of events he held there until Harriet called out, ‘Lunch is ready.’

Harriet’s food immediately drew flattering remarks from their guest. Even Harriet felt it was nice of him to make such pleasing comments when she’d slaved in the kitchen to make it all as appealing as possible. But after a while his compliments ceased to ring true, and Harriet began to wish he would stop. His brother Johnny, who during his bachelor days had been a frequent guest at their table, genuinely complimented her food beautifully, but he didn’t overdo it. Where as Chris bordered on gushing with his compliments, as though she was the little woman who, for once rather surprisingly, had excelled herself.

Fran was very quiet and Chris almost entirely ignored her. After lunch Chris suggested a walk, an idea that Jimbo and Harriet declined, thinking Fran would enjoy a walk with him and that she certainly wouldn’t want both her parents with them. So the two of them went off in Chris’s sports car to a destination known only to themselves.

Jimbo gave Harriet some very useful help in the kitchen, and almost before they knew it they were seated in their favourite chairs, free to have a post-mortem of the lunch over coffee.

‘Well, I’m sorry, I may be biased, but he is a pain in the proverbial. Honestly, the way he complimented me about the food, it was insulting.’

‘I don’t think he meant it to be. It’s just his way.’

‘Do you like him?’

‘Not especially, no. Condescending, you know, about our business.’

‘Jimbo, it is small compared to theirs. Let’s be honest.’

‘It is, but we don’t half make a lot of money considering our size. You know, as a father, I don’t see what Fran sees in him.’

‘Neither do I. She’s dazzled by his good looks and his lifestyle. He is very attractive to a young woman like Fran.’

‘Can’t see it, but there you are. I’m not happy about it. He comes across as less than truthful.’

‘Can’t you have a word with Johnny? He’ll feel the same as us, I’m sure.’

‘I might.’

‘Not might. You must, Jimbo. For Fran’s sake. Before we know where we are she’ll be off to Brazil with him.’

‘All right, all right. I will then. But what the heck I’ll say I do not know.’

As it turned out, it was Harriet who had the first opportunity to speak to Johnny, because he came into the store early one morning when Harriet was standing in for Jimbo who had a heavy cold and could barely speak.

‘Harriet. Good morning. I want a bottle of that stuff you give to babies when they have colic. Do you sell it? I can’t remember what we used to give to Charles.’ Johnny snapped his fingers as an aide memoire, but the name wouldn’t come to mind.

‘Hi, Johnny. How’s the little one? Apart from the colic, of course. Have you and Alice settled on a name yet?’

‘Yes, finally. He’s going to be a Ralph, like his grandfather. And funnily enough, I think it suits him.’

‘A lovely name. Very traditional.’ Harriet presented him with a bottle from the baby food shelves. Johnny sighed with relief. ‘That’s it, that’s the one! Clever girl. We’ve been up since half-past three with Master Ralph. And of course when it’s time for us to be up and Charles too, Ralph falls fast asleep with exhaustion.’

‘Par for the course, Johnny. Here you are.’

Johnny handed over a five pound note, and obviously wanted to chat some more. ‘There’s something else I’ll remember in a moment. How are things with you?’

‘We had your brother to lunch on Sunday.’

‘Of course you did. Did he behave himself?’

‘If you mean did he know how to use a knife properly, yes he did. But Jimbo’s a bit concerned.’

‘He is?’

‘Yes. Chris is a lot older than Fran, you know, and we’d rather . . .’

‘It’s the longest he’s gone out with the same girl that I can remember. I think he must be getting serious.’

‘Ah, right. Does he talk about her much?’

‘No, which is unusual.’

‘She’s very inexperienced with older men.’

‘How old is she then?’

‘Twenty-one next month.’

‘I thought she was much older than that.’

‘You wouldn’t fancy having a word with Chris, would you?’

‘You mean it, don’t you? Like a big brother kind of word?’

‘Yes.’

‘I will, but he won’t like it. Bye.’ Johnny paused at the door and looked back. ‘She seems much older than twenty,’ he said again.

‘Well, believe me, she isn’t.’

‘Better get back, just in case.’

Harriet remembered something else Johnny needed prompting about. ‘Alice. She needs some domestic help, Johnny. It’s too much, with two babies so close in age. Dottie Foskett who helps me one afternoon a week is very good. She was trained to clean by nuns, need I say more? And I know one of her clients died a couple of weeks ago so she has the time to fit you in.’

‘You could be right. I’ll talk to Alice about someone. After a night like we’ve had, she could be more amenable to the idea. Bye, Harriet, I’ll keep in mind what you said about Chris. I will have a word, you know. Bye. Thanks for this.’ Johnny held up the colic medicine as he held open the door for Willie coming in for his morning paper.

Johnny joined Chris at the breakfast table and his opening gambit was, ‘I’ve been talking to an anxious relative.’

Assuming Johnny meant someone back in Brazil, Chris asked, ‘Who was that?’

‘Harriet at the store.’

‘Ah!’

‘They are concerned about the age gap, and the fact that Fran is too young and too immature for a man of your experience.’

‘Huh!’ Chris heaped marmalade on his toast and bit off a large square.

‘Well? Should they be worried?’

Chris gave a wicked grin. ‘I suppose so, but we’re very careful.’

‘So I should hope. In a village of this size . . .’

‘Don’t give me the familiar sermon, please.’