Cheese – farmhouse-made with free-range eggs – took off her glasses and said, ‘Now look here, Jimbo. As mothers-in-law go I think I give you an easy ride but this time I have to speak my mind. I don’t want to interfere but I must. Do you realise that Harriet has far too much to do?’
‘I work hard, too.’
‘Indeed you do, but you don’t also prepare meals and look after the children and cook for dinner parties and receptions and meals at Game Fairs and the like. My daughter never has a minute to herself and it’s got to stop. Employ more help. Ease the burden. She only objects to the restaurant because she physically can’t do any more than she is already doing.’ Sadie’s index finger poked Jimbo rather sharply on his lapel and she turned on her heel and left him to think.
The day wore on and still Harriet had not returned. The boys and Flick arrived home from school, accustomed to their mother greeting them with food and sympathy, to find their grandma there instead.
‘Where’s Mummy? I wish my Mummy was here.’ Flick did not take kindly to her routine being upset.
Sadie told the children that their mother had gone out for a change, and that she’d soon be back. Jimbo was feeling exactly like Flick but he didn’t voice his feelings. By eight o’clock, anxiety took the place of wishing. He sat at his office desk trying to do the VAT return, but too worried to have much success. About eleven the back door opened and in she came.
Jimbo leapt up to greet her. ‘Darling, where have you been! We have missed you.’
‘Crawled out from under your stone, have you?’
‘Now, Harriet, that’s a bit unfair. You know I’ve always wanted a restaurant. If you say no then no it shall be. I leave it entirely to you.’
‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘No it’s not, I’m simply being thoughtful.’
‘Don’t, it’s too painful. Goodnight, Jimbo. Good luck with the VAT return.’
‘Aren’t you going to help me?’
‘No.’
When he’d finished he went upstairs, only to find that Harriet was not in their bed. He crept round the bedrooms and discovered her fast asleep on the put-u-up in Flick’s bedroom. This was the first time they had slept apart since they were married. Jimbo knew he had gambled once too often. Serious amends would have to be made.
Next morning Harriet saw the children off to school while Jimbo started work in the shop. His first job was to write out an advertisement for the local newspaper.
‘ Smart young people needed, full and part-time, to help entrepreneur with busy catering business. Excellent remuneration for hardworking lively applicants. Apply Turnham Malpas (0909)334455 .’
He telephoned the advert to the newspaper and served some customers, all of whom were eager to know about the restaurant. Most of them were thrilled at the idea, but over in The Royal Oak, some, but not all of the regulars, had signed Betty’s petition.
‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.’ Vera Wright was laying down the law. ‘Before we know it, this village will be as busy as the M4. Car doors slamming late at night, headlights on full blast. It won’t be the same any more.’
‘It will mean more jobs, Vera.’
‘Oh yes, more jobs for chefs and the like. How many chefs do you know in Turnham Malpas?’
‘Well, none actually.’
‘Exactly, Willie – none . All it’ll do is bring people in from outside. Village folk will get the rubbish jobs like cleaning and doing the vegetables. Aren’t I right, Pat?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose you are, Vera. Who do we know who’d want to work restaurant hours? Not me for a start, though I could manage evenings, I suppose, and fit it in with the school.’
Jimmy Glover, a regular at The Royal Oak, placed his pint carefully on a beer mat, wiped the froth from his mouth and said, ‘What about all these tourists coming to see the murals in the church and the stocks and the like – where can they go for a nice meal? Not
‘I work hard, too.’
‘Indeed you do, but you don’t also prepare meals and look after the children and cook for dinner parties and receptions and meals at Game Fairs and the like. My daughter never has a minute to herself and it’s got to stop. Employ more help. Ease the burden. She only objects to the restaurant because she physically can’t do any more than she is already doing.’ Sadie’s index finger poked Jimbo rather sharply on his lapel and she turned on her heel and left him to think.
The day wore on and still Harriet had not returned. The boys and Flick arrived home from school, accustomed to their mother greeting them with food and sympathy, to find their grandma there instead.
‘Where’s Mummy? I wish my Mummy was here.’ Flick did not take kindly to her routine being upset.
Sadie told the children that their mother had gone out for a change, and that she’d soon be back. Jimbo was feeling exactly like Flick but he didn’t voice his feelings. By eight o’clock, anxiety took the place of wishing. He sat at his office desk trying to do the VAT return, but too worried to have much success. About eleven the back door opened and in she came.
Jimbo leapt up to greet her. ‘Darling, where have you been! We have missed you.’
‘Crawled out from under your stone, have you?’
‘Now, Harriet, that’s a bit unfair. You know I’ve always wanted a restaurant. If you say no then no it shall be. I leave it entirely to you.’
‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘No it’s not, I’m simply being thoughtful.’
‘Don’t, it’s too painful. Goodnight, Jimbo. Good luck with the VAT return.’
‘Aren’t you going to help me?’
‘No.’
When he’d finished he went upstairs, only to find that Harriet was not in their bed. He crept round the bedrooms and discovered her fast asleep on the put-u-up in Flick’s bedroom. This was the first time they had slept apart since they were married. Jimbo knew he had gambled once too often. Serious amends would have to be made.
Next morning Harriet saw the children off to school while Jimbo started work in the shop. His first job was to write out an advertisement for the local newspaper.
‘ Smart young people needed, full and part-time, to help entrepreneur with busy catering business. Excellent remuneration for hardworking lively applicants. Apply Turnham Malpas (0909)334455 .’
He telephoned the advert to the newspaper and served some customers, all of whom were eager to know about the restaurant. Most of them were thrilled at the idea, but over in The Royal Oak, some, but not all of the regulars, had signed Betty’s petition.
‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.’ Vera Wright was laying down the law. ‘Before we know it, this village will be as busy as the M4. Car doors slamming late at night, headlights on full blast. It won’t be the same any more.’
‘It will mean more jobs, Vera.’
‘Oh yes, more jobs for chefs and the like. How many chefs do you know in Turnham Malpas?’
‘Well, none actually.’
‘Exactly, Willie – none . All it’ll do is bring people in from outside. Village folk will get the rubbish jobs like cleaning and doing the vegetables. Aren’t I right, Pat?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose you are, Vera. Who do we know who’d want to work restaurant hours? Not me for a start, though I could manage evenings, I suppose, and fit it in with the school.’
Jimmy Glover, a regular at The Royal Oak, placed his pint carefully on a beer mat, wiped the froth from his mouth and said, ‘What about all these tourists coming to see the murals in the church and the stocks and the like – where can they go for a nice meal? Not
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