Village Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

won’t be treated like one.’
    ‘Oh well, then, we’ll have him! If I remember rightly he’s an excellent batsman.’
    ‘He is. Score average last season twenty-one.’
    ‘Excellent!’ Ralph returned silently to considering the list. Barry Jones … yes, Peter … yes, Neville … the slimy toad, Malcolm … the milkman, the Sergeant … Dean Duckett … Kenny and Terry Jones and Rhett Wright. An odd collection but some good may come of them; we’ve got to start somewhere. He flicked the list with the back of his hand and said aloud: ‘Well, Jimbo, I must say you’ve done well. A good start. Right, I’ll be off. Here’s the money for the milk. I’ll let you know how I get on. Strange girl, that Kate.’
    ‘Rather gorgeous, I thought! Those green eyes … Nice of her to help with the teas.’
    ‘Hmm.’ Ralph shut the door and went off home looking forward to his coffee just as Muriel was. As he walked round the village green, Ralph admired the houses and the church. Home, Turnham Malpas, that was where he really belonged. His heart was here, where he’d spent his first years. It didn’t matter a damn that he wasn’t in the Big House any more. He could cheerfully leave that to old Fitch, because he, Ralph, had what Fitch hadn’t – a loving passionate wife. Never mind all that hooey that passion belonged only to the young; he and Muriel had proved them wrong. As Ralph crossed Church Lane he said to himself, I just hope my damned ticker holds out and we have many years of fun before us.
    ‘Muriel, my dear, here’s the milk. I’ve just been introduced to Ms Pascoe from the school. Curious sort of girl – well, woman. Just hope she doesn’t let the village down with newfangled ideas.’
    Muriel opened the carton of milk and poured some into the tiny china jug on the tray. She checked that she had everything – Ralph’s sweeteners, the coffee, teaspoons, cups, saucers. She was using the ones she’d brought from her own house when they’d married. She was so glad she had someone to share her nice china with. Dear Ralph!
    ‘There we are, I’ve got everything. Come and tell me what you think of her.’
    ‘All black – she’s dressed in black. One thing in her favour, though, she’s willing to lend a hand with the cricket teas.’
    ‘Oh excellent! She can’t be all bad then.’
    ‘No, she can’t, can she?’ Ralph chuckled. ‘I’ve that appointment with Fitch tomorrow. They’ll be starting on the pavilion as soon as the weather improves – won’t that be grand? We’ve fifty years of neglect to put right. I can just remember seeing my father batting. It was a hot summer day. My sunhat made my forehead sticky so I pushed it off; Mama wiped my face with cologne and put it back on again. That’s something I remember about her – she always smelt beautifully. God! I’m sounding like a very sentimental old trout. Got to stop.’
    ‘There’s nothing the matter with memories, Ralph, nothing at all. Especially lovely ones.’
    ‘No, you’re right. Thank you for the coffee, my dear. I’m going to my study to open the post and to plan my meeting with Fitch. He’ll be handing out money like there’s no tomorrow, so long as it bolsters his campaign.’
    ‘Campaign?’
    ‘He’s wanting to be president of the club.’
    ‘But a Templeton is always president!’ Muriel was scandalised. ‘It’ll have to be you.’
    ‘I rather hope it might. Tradition and all that … but times have changed and money speaks loudest now.’
    ‘I shall tell him,’ Muriel said fiercely. ‘If you have any trouble with him, let me know and I shall go up there and put him straight. President of the cricket club … Whatever next!’
    Ralph smiled at her. ‘I do believe you would.’
    As he pulled up on the gravel at the front of the Big House the following day, Ralph couldn’t help his heart lurching slightly. The place always had that effect on him. It really was time he let the past rest in peace.
    To his