Twenty-Five
Esther was in the little upstairs room of the Olde Plough, sometimes used for wedding receptions, where she had called the next meeting of the village hall committee. A long, plain room, it nonetheless had a few splashes of grandeur, all gifts from ancestral Mitchelmores: a huge elongated gilded framed mirror, a mahogany hour-striking clock and an array of embroidered Biblical scenes. A couple of uninspiring bronze equestrian groups sat up out of reach on the heavy oak mantel shelf above the yawning brick fireplace. Keeping company with the bronzes were some tarnished silver cups won in local darts tournaments. The thick brocade curtains at the diamond leaded windows were also originally from Petherton, cast-offs. Once a wine colour, they had fallen via time and sunlight to a grubby brown. Now too fragile to launder they were thick with dust, as Esther had found out to her chagrin. The meeting room, she felt, was a little part of the Petherton estate and she was cross that all in all it had been allowed to languish into sloppy disorder.
The landlord and his wife, Johnny and Margaret Westlake, were loosely related to Denny Vercoe and embraced the Vercoes’ lackadaisical way of life. Esther had complained about the tarnish and dust, but Johnny and Margaret, both commonplace and ebullient hosts, had laughingly told Esther to mind her own business.
‘You won’t be laughing when all the meetings I’m involved in are held in the new village hall in future and your drink takings are down,’ Esther muttered cuttingly.
She sat down at the ‘top table’, having previously asked Johnny to set out two other tables at right angles to it. The people of Nanviscoe had their lives to get on with and only a few of them were capable of being a pioneering leader – Greg Barnicoat came to mind but he was too nice, didn’t like offending anyone and that was a necessary part of true leadership. Esther quite enjoyed offending those she thought deserved it. Her prime target had been the late, barely missed Delia Newton. Jack Newton should be leadership material but his father’s incessant cruelty had leeched anything useful out of him. Jack, when he wasn’t tom-catting, set about making amends to the world for the brute Randall’s existence in it. Esther secretly liked Jack. She also liked Finn Templeton, currently recovering from severe dyspepsia, but she wasn’t one to admit to anyone she favoured. Jack was at last throwing off his morbid widower weeds, letting go of the lingering threads of his peculiar tragic young wife, credit to the presence in his life of the fully womanly Verity Barnicoat. Like Dorrie Resterick, Esther had met Lucinda Newton while making the usual respectful first visit. Esther had left appalled by the freakish perpetual child, who had allowed Esther to preside over the tea and cake, and she had been glad to get away and had never called back. In Esther’s opinion Lucinda was verging on being a dangerous being. Thank goodness she had killed herself and not someone else.
Esther had her large notebook ready to record the more important decisions. Hector Evans would jot down the minutes of the meeting. Soames, as a businessman, was treasurer and would take hall bookings. It would be handy for people to make them in the Stores. Esther always arrived early for meetings so she could get her thoughts together. On this afternoon’s agenda were the decisions about what the nearly completed hall should be called, when the official opening day should be held and who should do the honours of opening it, and what sort of occasion it should be.
She was surprised when the first committee member came in. ‘Good heavens! Honoria, this is a first for you. You’re twenty minutes early and you usually arrive when a meeting is nearly over. Is there a problem?’
‘Not in the least, I just happened to have got on early today. Thought I’d pop along early for a tête-à-tête. When I know when the hall is to be opened I shall plan to spend the winter in sunnier climes, my first time away since the war broke out. Not much choice really, with so many countries still suffering the ravages. I’m thinking of the Caribbean, somewhere not too native.’
Honoria sat down on the right of her sister at a separate table. She snapped open her beige handbag and slid out her cigarettes. A minute later she and Esther were smoking, sharing a cheap tin ashtray, having to stretch out their arms to reach it. ‘The thing is, will you be all right when I’m out of the country? It will be a few months. If you’d rather I didn’t go then I won’t. Of course, I can cut my stay short; you’d only have to make a call. Such a pity you can’t come with me. Why not let me get you a passport? The contacts I used to sort out those beastly blackmailers could easily get you a passport that even the most diligent customs officer would think was real. They got you the necessary papers and ration cards. You can trust them, darling.’
Esther shook her head emphatically. ‘I’m too afraid to take the risk. Their man wasn’t careful enough and was quite easily caught. He might have spilled the beans. He might not have known who asked his bosses to put up the hit but it might have led to you and then to me. I’d kill myself rather than face a day’s questioning. The truth would be discovered and I couldn’t bear that. You know what they’d do to me, the scandal would be unprecedented and all I have is my name, my good name. I’d love to go abroad like we did in the old days but I’m quite happy in my home. I never thought I’d have such a big home where I can be the lady of all I survey. I’m quite content to put my life and energy into Nanviscoe, to be thought of as a do-gooder battleaxe. You go away, Honny, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine.’
‘But if something should happen, if you took ill for instance and your servants called in the local doctor instead of our chap. He’d see . . .’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll leave strict instructions that only Levinson must be called in. Anyway, I’m as fit as a fiddle. I always pay others to do anything remotely risky, like the Templeton boy to clear out the cellars. I don’t drive or ride so I’m not likely to have an accident. There’s years yet before we need to worry, but thank you, Honny dear. I appreciate your concern, your ongoing love. Now let’s change the subject; someone else will turn up any minute.’
They kept a solemn thoughtful silence, finishing their cigarettes and pressing out the lipstick-stained stubs.
‘Are you still seeing Soames Newton? I don’t know how you could.’ Esther spoke with distaste.
‘Well, the history between Soames and me goes way back; he was once a presentable young man. He knows how to please, has been happy like me to make it an on-and-off arrangement. It’s off right now, maybe for good you’ll be pleased to hear. Soames couldn’t be more delighted that Delia suddenly met a well-deserved grisly end. He’s looking for a new wife, an agreeable companion.’
‘Mmm, good luck to him.’ Esther lost interest in gossipy news and turned to her notebook. ‘I’ve got suggestions for the items on today’s agenda. It’s good knowing I’ll have your support in all cases.’