The Village Newcomers by Rebecca Shaw Read Free Book Online

start talking to me when you come to bed. I need my sleep even if you don’t. Write your ideas down and I’ll read them in the morning.’
     
    On her way upstairs Harriet put her head round Fran’s door to find her still reading. ‘Fran, you really must get some sleep. It’s awfully late.’
     
    Fran laid her book on the bedside table and snuggled down. ‘Mum, they’re not quite us, are they?’
     
    Harriet thought about this. ‘No, not quite, but it doesn’t mean to say that diminishes them. They are very worthwhile people, even if they don’t sing from the same hymn sheet as we do.’
     
    Fran giggled. ‘Mum, you sound just like Peter. He sees the best in everyone.’
     
    ‘Well, he’s right, isn’t he? Everyone has their slot in life, you know.’
     
    ‘I can’t stand snobs.’
     
    ‘Do you think I’m a snob?’
     
    ‘No, but Dad is.’
     
    ‘Fran!’
     
    ‘When she said about serving wenches and could they have all their bosoms showing, I thought I’d die laughing.’
     
    ‘Fun way to go! Goodnight, darling.’
     

     
    At 9 a.m. sharp Jimbo was pulling up at the Old Barn, but Ford and Mercedes were there before him.
     
    ‘Early bird catches the worm. We decided not to go in until you arrived. Lovely morning, isn’t it? We can’t wait to see the barn.
     
    ‘Is it really, really old, Jimbo? Genuine?’ Mercedes asked, staring up at the old redbrick walls.
     
    ‘My word, yes. It really was an old barn, the biggest in the area. You should have seen it. There was a lot of work to do. We did a very sympathetic conversion, you see, which takes time. Let’s go in.’
     
    Rather than let them in through the side door which the staff used, Jimbo opened up the huge main doors so they got the very best impression as they entered. It gave him a lift each time he walked in, so he knew the impact for them would be tremendous.
     
    It silenced them, as he guessed it would. They stood open-mouthed, staring first at the soaring height of the roof and the wonderful ancient beams that supported it, the sun gloriously pouring in through the roof windows, the long, gleaming tables. Mercedes trailed appreciative fingers along the panelled walls. ‘Is this wall real? Not modern tarted up to look old?’
     
    ‘Tudor panelling taken from an old place in the City that was being pulled down to make way for a road. Criminal, really.’
     
    Very tenderly Mercedes stroked the panelling to show her delight at its authenticity. ‘No! That is criminal. It’s so very beautiful.’
     
    Ford was fascinated by the huge wrought-iron sconces placed strategically along the walls. ‘These candles are lit when you have a do?’ he asked.
     
    ‘Yes, we have no electric lights in this part. They’d have been intrusive.’
     
    ‘I don’t think we’d have enough friends to fill all these long tables, would we, Ford?’ said Mercedes nervously. ‘How many does it hold, seated and having a meal?’
     
    ‘One hundred and fifty at a pinch,’ Jimbo replied. ‘One hundred more comfortably, and certainly no more than that if you want a performance of some kind.’
     
    Mercedes gasped. ‘A performance?’
     
    ‘Well, I thought about having some strolling players, wandering in to sing and dance and things, appearing to have arrived by chance, as they perhaps would do in the olden days . . . except organised, if you get my meaning. In costume, like they used to do, strolling from one town to another and giving performances to entertain the lord’s guests. And I did think of you being Queen Elizabeth, and you, Ford, as the Earl of Leicester, with all your guests in costume, too. Perhaps Mercedes could knight someone for bravery or something.’
     
    Ford almost burst with pleasure. ‘Capital. Absolutely capital. What a brilliant idea. Amazing I hadn’t thought of that.’
     
    Mercedes crumpled with disappointment. ‘But it’s no good, Ford: we couldn’t fill it, could we? Half-full would spoil the whole