Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) by Rebecca Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

study what needs to be done this week. In the winter, with no grass to cut and no gardening to do, life gets a bit easier, but in the height of summer like now it’s one body’s work keeping everywhere looking smart.’
    He unlocked the side door of the church and switched on the lights. ‘And don’t think for one minute that because the Rector’s a gentleman he won’t speak out if needs be. Right shaming he can be, if things aren’t as they should be. Likes the churchyard looking neat, between every grave, all the paths, all the land not used yet, no weeds growing at the foot of the walls, no overturned urns or vases, no sunken gravestones. Well, that is except the very old ones, he doesn’t mind those, says they’ve a right to topple a bit but anything less than two hundred years ’as to be straight, like soldiers on parade. He likes the bedding plants by the lych-gate to be well weeded and colourful in the summer. I can help out with that ’cos I always have plenty growing on in my greenhouse so don’t be spending church money in garden centres …’
    Tom raised a hand to silence him. ‘No need to worry about that. I grow plenty myself, and I’ve a good source for bulbs too. Don’t you fret.’ He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. ‘Tom Nicholls knows a thing or two.’ He laughed confidingly. ‘I take two sugars in tea. Thanks.’
‘Here you are then.’ Willie handed him a mug of tea and pushed the sugar bowl across the table. He looked round the vestry for a moment, took a sip of his scalding hot tea and said, ‘Every inch of the church has to be dead clean, every statue dusted – I’ll show you the long-handled feather duster I ’ave for ’em – every inch of floor swept, every brass cleaned down each aisle, every tomb, every surface, the altar, the pulpit. You name it, you clean it or else he’ll know.’
    ‘The Rector or the Almighty?’ Tom laughed, till he noticed Willie’s disapproving face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean that.’
    ‘It’s not funny – well, to me it isn’t. I’ve watched over this church for sixteen years and I shall be on the look-out every Sunday and any other time for lapses. And don’t think I shan’t notice ’cos I shall. It may not pay well but it’s still to be done right and if you don’t want to do it right, say so, and we’ll put an end to it. I might be getting older but I’m not going blind and I’m not going daft either.’
    ‘I know that. I’m just surprised you’re taking early retirement. Fifty-five’s no age for retiring, not for a man with plenty of go in him.’
    ‘You know full well I’m a lot more than fifty-five so save your flattery for them as appreciates it.’ He turned to point to a padlocked cupboard. ‘That’s where we keep the cleaning materials. Brushes, cloths, disinfectants, polish. I polish all the woodwork once every two months. Between polishing yer dust. Carefully. When yer need more supplies the Rector has the petty cash and he needs receipts for everything. Everything, mind.’
‘Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Show me some of the keys then.’
    Willie pushed a heavy bunch of keys across the table. ‘Each one’s named. No problem there.’
    Tom took it up and began to examine the keys. He queried some of Willie’s shorthand on the varying tags and then asked what the heavy ornate key with no name was for.
    ‘Ah! That’s for the music cupboard. It’s a spare just in case Gilbert Johns comes without his. I haven’t named it ’cos I never use it.’
    ‘Funny chap for a choir-master. Never seen him wear a coat even in the depth of winter, always looks half starved. Thin as a rail.’
    ‘Thin he may be, but he’s well looked after and he’s a first-rate choir-master.’
    ‘Never said he wasn’t.’
    ‘You don’t touch that cupboard, he knows exactly what’s in there and exactly where it is so don’t go reorganising it for ’im.’
    ‘I shan’t. This one? What’s it