Free The Village Green Affair by Rebecca Shaw Page B

Charter-Plackett, having recovered herself when she’d downed her whiskey, ‘this is the first time and they’ll be on their best behaviour. We’ve to remain vigilant. Familiarity breeds contempt and within a few weeks things will deteriorate, believe me. Then we’ve got to strike.’
     
    There were hearty shouts of agreement, in particular from Willie Biggs. ‘It was the stallholders’ vans that were the biggest nuisance. The mothers had a right problem ’cos the kids didn’t know which way to go to find their mothers at lunchtime. That’ll have to be sorted or we’ll have an accident.’
     
    There were cries of ‘hear, hear’ all round, and Willie volunteered to get the drinks in again, so they all put money in his cap to fund it. The conversation broke up, and anyone listening from the other tables would have heard Grandmama saying, ‘I shall go over there as soon as we finish and find out what’s going on.’
     
    Greta Jones agreed. ‘I’ve come for Jimbo’s sake, I can’t work for him and support the market. That wouldn’t be right.’
     
    Tom agreed. ‘Same here. We were dead quiet this morning and not much better this afternoon. I feel real sorry for him, what with all the expense of the Old Barn, setting it up and that. It’s not right.’
     
    The genuineness of Tom’s voice inspired them all to agree, and they decided to meet at the same time next week for a progress report. The Anti-Market Action Committee had been formed.
     
     
After the meeting Grandmama marched purposefully across to Jimbo’s house, putting on her charming look as she went. After all, he had a right to do as he wished - well, so long as it agreed with what she thought was fitting. She’d never been given a key to Jimbo and Harriet’s house, except when she lived there for a while, so she had to knock.
     
    She presented her cheek for Harriet to kiss as she stepped into the hall. ‘Late, I know, but I shan’t be long. Where is he?’
     
    ‘In his study.’
     
    Grandmama pulled a face. ‘Like that, is it?’
     
    Harriet nodded and opened Jimbo’s study door, but made no move to follow her in.
     
    Jimbo was at his computer, entering figures. He paused eventually and nodded at the armchair. ‘Sit yourself down, Mother.’
     
    ‘I am appalled that you didn’t attend the post-mortem meeting.’
     
    Jimbo looked at her soberly. ‘I was so disarmed by his charm that I went. It was a market worthy of Turnham Malpas, and ultimately can do us nothing but good. OK?’
     
    ‘OK? No, it isn’t OK. It’s a damned disaster for you. Just answer me one question. I see you’re entering figures. What’s this Thursday like compared with last Thursday, or any other Thursday come to that?’
     
    Jimbo checked the screen. ‘Thirty per cent down. My God! Thirty per cent? I must have got it wrong.’
     
    He took a closer look at the screen and realized what he’d said. It was bloody awful; it was thirty per cent! ‘Don’t fret, Mother, I shall be at the next meeting of the “Against the Market Campaign”, believe me.’ He laid back in his chair and smote his forehead with his hand.
     
    ‘Things may level out,’ his mother consoled. ‘After a few weeks, you know, these things do. Still, we will need to keep a close eye on it.’
     
    With this gloomy prophecy Grandmama left, her mind churning round and round, thinking of ways to combat the market but coming up with absolutely no ideas. She walked home the long way past the school as part of her walking for health routine, and, glancing across at Glebe House, she saw Neville’s study light on. She suddenly wondered if he had anything to do with it, slimy toad that he was. He always seemed to have his fingers in lots of pies. Grandmama shuddered. She didn’t like the man but in defence of her son’s livelihood there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do, however repulsive.
     
    Neville, in fact, was rubbing his hands together at that very moment. He’d just