My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries Book 1) Page 5

  As the fête was now officially coming to an end, Lady J and I moved over to where the cars were parked. We had just reached ours when running towards us we saw a man puffing and panting. His face was carrying the biggest smile I'd seen in years. As he got closer we realised it was our Farmer Giles.

  "What ho, My Lord, Your Ladyship", he gasped. “You'll never believe it. I put my bull in 'best of breed' and was shocked to see the beastie dashing home without anyone. I looked for him and there he was in the barn covering the cows. It's a bloody miracle, pardon the language Milady".

  Sunday, July 25, 2010

  The Wages of Sin

  T

  oday I was going to lie in.

  Knowing we were expecting visitors for lunch, I thought a leisurely morning was called for.

  Lady Julia it seemed had other ideas. "Time to get ready for Church", she told me.

  Now, I don't begrudge anyone their beliefs, but I'm not what you'd call a regular attender in God's House. However, one has to make some sacrifices and make the occasional visit to set an example for the villagers. So, I addressed my toilet (and no, that does not mean I spoke to the loo) and got dressed.

  Today called for a dark frockcoat but lightened by a nice red silk waistcoat and cravat. I believe if you have to do something, do it with style. And where the church is concerned the villagers needed to see I had made an effort.

  At five minutes to ten we walked arm in arm to the village church. It's a beautiful Gothic Victorian edifice with a small bell-tower. The bell was quiet this morning though, as our resident bell-ringer, or campanologist as he preferred to be called, 'Chimes' Bunton, was away at his sister's recovering from a bout of bell-ringer’s elbow and wouldn't be back for another week. No one actually knew Chimes' first name as that had been his nickname for so long. His other sister Glory wasn't able to ring a peal on her own and had stayed away.

  The absence of the peal allowed us to hear the organ as we approached the lychgate. I truly admire Sally Simms' efforts usually but I'm not sure that 'Whiter Shade of Pale' has a place in church. Sally is a bit of a local celebrity as she once wrote a book about a family of owls for children. I personally found it a little dark to be introducing youngsters to vampire owls, but there's no accounting for taste, and seemingly the book did quite well

  Inside church we took our places in the private family pew. The Rev Zvingler wasted no time. Appearing very well scrubbed but with a rather pink tinge around his face, he blasted into his sermon.

  "The wages of sin are many", he declared, ”and those amongst you who have sinned WILL be paid".

  Not quite as I remember it from the Bible but it certainly raised a few eyebrows. One of Henrietta Fanshaw’s brood was looking quite uncomfortable. He was tugging at his collar as though it was tightening about his neck.

  The sermon thundered on and was followed by the hymn 'All things bright and beautiful', which, though light, did not seem to lift the oppressive air hanging over a certain young section of the church.

  At last it came to an end and as we traipsed out of the church to say Good Morning to the vicar, I heard him mutter, "Now, just wait till Sunday School mi laddo". Which led me to believe that perhaps someone’s wages were about due.

  We thanked the vicar for his uplifting sermon and walked home together for a coffee pausing only long enough to nod to those who touched their caps or curtsied to us, and acknowledge the calls of "Morning Squire, Morning My Lord, Your Ladyship", etc as was our due.

  Julia made the coffee and we settled to relax until the visitors arrived at about twelve -thirty when we would go to lunch.

  They say cometh the hour, cometh the man, only in this case it included a woman. Davide Frankel-Ffoulkes arrived with Sybil his wife, my cousin, and peace was shattered.

  Though Sybil is a real delight and holds a most special place in our hearts, her voice did not have either an off or a mute switch. Unfortunately nor did our ears. If there was an Olympic event for Chatter or Drama then Britain had the winning entrant. Davide was almost the opposite, quiet, thoughtful and just laughing politely in the right places.

  The arrival didn't start well as they introduced us to Pom-Pom, their little dog who they'd brought to prevent him feeling lonely at home.

  The trouble was named Oscar who had been sitting quietly purring on my lap until that time. First sight of the dog and he stiffened. I suffered twenty hypodermic-like shots to my legs from his claws. As he hissed loudly, I rose quickly but Oscar just adjusted himself for a better grip. My screams startled Pom-Pom who turned and bolted dragging Davide back out of the door.

  Cat still fully attached, I limped through to the bedroom where Oscar happily jumped onto the bed as though naught had happened.

  Rivulets of blood coursing down my legs, I closed the bedroom door leaving Oscar inside and went to look for some antiseptic cream and a clean pair of trousers. Lady J came along to offer a tissue and sympathy as Davide arrived at the house for the second time. Sybil was standing in the lounge and I doubt she'd noticed anything happening, so enthralled was she in passing comment on our latest acquisitions since their last visit.

  “Oh how wonderful, how delicious, how sweet", she cooed at the sight of various things.

  Trousers changed, bedroom door closed, with Davide and the dog returned and Lady Julia's smirk hidden behind a hand, I called through to the lounge for Sybil to join us in the hall.

  “Right, time to get some lunch", said I.

  We had decided to travel in our car with Julia driving as usual. We all got in, visitors and dog in the back and with some difficulty I ascended the passenger seat.

  From previous visits over the years, Julia and I were aware that Sybil had become a vegetarian, and having previous experience of how she is when confronted with a limited menu, slow service, cool coffee or virtually anything, we had decided to mortgage an arm and a leg and take them to an excellent out of town restaurant with a good reputation and sky high prices. It was also part of an arcade of antique shops which we hoped might interest them.

  The journey was awful. I lay back in my seat wondering how I could get my hands on a scolds bridle or become deaf. The dog, who unbeknownst to me had eaten part of the cat’s lunch while we waited for Sybil to join us, continually passed wind. Unfortunately it wasn't passing far enough away and so four of us travelled with heads out of the windows which in Lady Julia's case made driving difficult. But eventually we arrived safe and sound and I personally set a new record time in getting out of the car.

  We entered the building and walked towards a table in the restaurant. I received more than a few strange looks from people who noticed the symmetrical rows of bloodstains appearing on each trouser leg.

  At least we knew the meal would go well with all the options on the menu. It had to, as this was the most expensive restaurant in the whole County.

  The head waiter of the 'Willow Pattern' is Claude and he brought menus to the table. I was proud of my choice of venue and told Sybil that the selection of vegetarian dishes was excellent.

  "Ha", she laughed, "don't you remember I told you I'm eating meat again?"

  Not wishing to argue and be reminded that at my age I forget many things, I held back on any rejoinder and suggested we order.

  Claude made a note of the drinks we wanted and said he would get them and send over a waitress to get our food order. She came and we all settled for the topside of roast beef dinner.

  Davide managed to say how much he was looking forward to this and before Julia or I could respond, Sybil proceeded to tell us in great detail about her top 100 worst delays in restaurants. She had I think reached Number 47 (reverse order) when our waitress woke us up by bringing our lunch. We were about to tuck in when Sybil complained there might be a little too much horseradish on her beef. Considering that she herself had just put it there it seemed there was little we could do, but raising an imperious hand Sybil summoned Claude. He was impressive and didn't turn a hair at the complaint. He supplied
a small side plate and a teaspoon so that she could remove the horseradish again.

  We each had an individual side dish of the 'veg of the day’ which was handy as Lady J had to help me out with my broccoli and I of course had to help her out with her potatoes. The sacrifices I make!

  We all thoroughly enjoyed the meal and claimed to be stuffed. No-one wanted pudding, except perhaps Lady Julia might manage a smidgeon of Eton Mess, and Sybil, purely to keep her company had a 'thimbleful' of Hot Chocolate Fudge Cake with a 'little' ice cream. That finally done we all had coffee and mints.

  As I paid the bill I wondered just how big a share in the business I'd bought.

  From lunch we wandered to the antique sections. Davide excused himself to take the dog for a quick walk; I excused myself to go and open the car for him and have a quick cigarette at the same time.

  When we returned Sybil had just started to tell of an antique fair in Canada where she'd bought a piece of porcelain. It turned out that when returning to the UK customs had charged VAT and she found she could have bought it cheaper here anyway.

  Sybil almost mounted Davide as she proceeded to tell him of the 'divine' bracelet she'd just seen and just had to have. Probably having foreseen such an event Davide apologised and said he'd come without his credit card. Sybil appeared almost boneless as she slithered off him looking dejected.

  I was inwardly congratulating him on such a move when I noticed Lady Julia send me a glare that said 'Buy It'.

  Out came the wallet making the moths blink in the sunlight a second time that afternoon, and the bracelet was mine... for as long as it took for Julia to relieve me of it and pass it to Sybil.

  Davide in turn admired a well made, curved lidded box made from some exotic woods. Need I say what ensued?

  Lady Julia admired a Beswick horse which reminded her of Pilgrim. My wallet now bore a 'Closed' sign and she was disappointed. I forbore from suggesting that worrying was needless as she had the real thing anyway.

  We set off home ensuring all the car windows were open as the excitement of seeing us again seemed to have an effect on Pom-Pom's stomach. And so we arrived home relatively ungassed.

  We opened the front door and I made for the bedroom where the cat ran to greet me. You could see the skid marks on the carpet as he saw the dog, halted and slunk off back to his prison.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent with me making various drinks while Sybil told her stories which the rest of us tried to interrupt. Our mouths kept opening and closing like goldfish. Eventually the time came for their departure. We escorted them to their car exhorting them to return soon (while secretly hoping they wouldn't for a while).

  The last thing Lady J or I heard was Sybil saying to Davide, "It was nice to see them, but they didn't have much to say for themselves did they?"

  Monday, July 26, 2010

  An Arresting Day

  Well, what an eventful day. It had been far from the restful day I envisaged when I got up that morning.

  The day started very dark and I was sure the sun had packed his bags ready for his annual break in the south of France or somewhere. However, the rain dance performed by a Native American medicine man somewhere in Dakota's Black Hills had worked and ensured that as usual it was drizzling outside.

  My wife announced after breakfast that we needed a 'few things' from the city and by 9.30 am we were Barchester bound.

  One of the 'few things' we needed apparently was a new coat for me. And furthermore it was a drover's coat I needed. Both of these statements were news to me but as I'm not fond of hospital food, I decided not to question either of them.

  Accordingly, we stopped first at the bank to replenish the starving wallet and I was delighted when the hole in the wall gave me my card back and did not call the manager out to refuse me and blow a great big raspberry at the assaults I was making on my account. Then we pulled in at a shop that seemed to have sprung from nowhere, it not having been there when we last visited Barchester. It's called 'Bargainz R Uz' and looked both tacky and out of place in our beautiful cathedral city.

  Inside however, to be fair, there did appear to be a great choice of products and staff in very smart if unusual uniforms. They were in dark green trousers, dark green waistcoats and light green shirts. At first they looked like a bunch of renegade leprechauns and only their height made me re-evaluate my opinion. One day I'm told, my overactive imagination will lead me into trouble.

  "David", I heard, "do stop daydreaming and try this on". My wife was holding out a drover’s coat for me to try so I slipped it on. It was quite comfortable, seemed a good fit and I liked the length. What I was unsure about was the colour. The shop lights were such that I couldn't tell if it was black, navy, dark green or even sky blue pink with dots on.

  There was a leprechaun close by and I asked her if I could take the garment to the door to check it in daylight. I offered to leave my wife as security.

  "No problem sir", she responded, "I'll just leave the coat hanger on this rail for when you've made your decision”.

  Thanking her, I made my way to the door leaving Julia looking at further garments.

  The light in the doorway was still not too good and I thought the sun had left for gentler climes. I stepped a little further outside and all hell broke loose. Bells rang, sirens did what sirens do and there was lots of shouting. I looked around for the cause.

  I just about had time to register that the coat was in fact navy before it suddenly had people attached.

  "Gotcha", said a voice in my ear as I toppled to the ground.

  "Bang dead to rights", said another voice as I was pulled back upright.

  "Unhand my husband", demanded a third voice.

  "I have reason to believe you left this store with the intention of depriving my employers of this garment, sir", said Voice One, saying the word sir with great reluctance.

  "You're nicked", said a fourth uniform-wearing voice.

  "Allow me to explain", I tried, before the uniformed voice started reading me my rights.

  "The sales assistant gave me permission to look at this in the daylight", I protested.

  "A likely story", said the uniform, "but I'll check", and he requested that Voice One and Voice Two went in search of the mythical assistant.

  I heard the voices again (no, dear reader, I have not become psychotic) as they returned and reported. Voice One had not found any assistants, Voice Two had been for a drink of water and ventured that in his opinion there had never been an assistant anyway.

  My wife had been worryingly quiet during this period and on turning around I saw she was no longer present. I didn't blame her; reputations could be blighted being seen with me.

  Uniform invited me to join him at the station to help with enquiries and started to lead me away to my first ever ride in a police car.

  "STOP", came the stentorian voice of my wife as she approached with the assistant I'd spoken to. The assistant assured Uniform that I was telling the truth and confirmed the same to Voices One and Two who were still standing nearby. She did, however, give me what seemed to be a reproving look for venturing too far and bringing this upon myself.

  Lady J explained where she had been. "Silly young thing took herself off for a tea break", she said. "I had to find the staffroom as she'd totally forgotten you".

  The incident over I decided I was not as keen on the coat as I had been before. But my wife insisted I was and took me to pay for it. The manager had started to say,"You really shouldn't have..." and saw my name on the cheque book.

  It rapidly changed to, "shouldn't have... worried, Sir, it was a training exercise and I do hope you weren't put out too much. Allow me to give you a twenty percent discount on the coat to atone for any discomfiture".

  "Thirty percent", came my wife's voice and seeing agreement I adjusted the cheque accordingly.

  We left the shop with my very discounted coat. Outside we were met by a smattering of applause from a group that had gathered. It seems that others
had found the store detectives, as Voices One and Two undoubtedly were, a little over zealous since the store had opened.

  One minor hiccough that I didn't want to mention to my wife was that I'd spotted Frank Rumpo outside the store as I'd been arrested. I'm sure I've mentioned that Frank is the butcher in Greenfield Bottom (incorporating Upper Greenfield) and as much gossip as meat passes over his counter.

  Following the little drama we collected a few items from a supermarket and then went for a cup of tea to The Sacristy, a little tea room close to the cathedral. The place was virtually empty, but after admiring the gifts on display we headed for the tables. As we passed one occupied table I heard a chuckle followed by a rumbling voice, "Ignoring me today you two? It just won't do. Come and join me you reprobates".

  There sat James Trubshaw, Deacon of the Cathedral and a friend of many years, as well as a hand at bridge when the boys sometimes get together. Julia and I joined him gladly. I may not be a regular churchgoer but James and I had known each other before he entered the seminary. He'd been quite a lad before that happened, and I doubt he'd changed much.

  Julia called for a waitress who seemed reluctant to end her conversation with another waitress. It looked like customers were a necessary inconvenience to this one. We ordered tea for ourselves with 'teasted toecakes' and a refill of coffee for James. Julia fluttered her eyelashes at James' usual barrage of flirtatious remarks and for a moment I was almost concerned. But then he turned his attention to me and I suffered asides in turn about my weight (less than his), widows peak (less than his), and my criminal record. It seems Frank Rumpo is very quick on his feet.