to be some sort of landed gentry intent on keeping the peasants down.’ He told Macy about the right-to-roam debacle. ‘The truth is we haven’t got a fucking bean of disposable income. I mean, the house is valuable, but our mortgage is massive and the upkeep costs a bomb. It’s not as if we’re running around buying diamonds and eating sodding caviar.’
Macy decided it was time to change the subject. ‘You know, you’re really good on camera.’
‘D’you think so?’ Gabe’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I was shitting bricks, to be honest with you. I’ve never done anything like this before. I couldn’t bear it if I were a total failure and let Laura down.’
‘No chance of that.’ Macy patted his hand across the table. It was quite astonishing how often he mentioned his wife, and how obviously in love with her he was. ‘You’re a natural.’
Just at the moment their hands touched, the vicar appeared at their table, looking both smug and disapproving, as if he’d caught Gabe out at something illicit.
‘Hello Gabriel. Miss Johanssen.’
‘Bugger off, “Bill”,’ said Gabe. ‘We’re trying to have a quiet lunch.’
‘I was only saying hello.’ The vicar blushed. ‘There’s really no need for profanity.’
‘That’s debatable,’ grumbled Gabe.
Macy gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I hear you have a big wedding this weekend, Vicar?’
‘Indeed I do.’ Bill Clempson smiled back. Macy tried not to look shocked by how crooked his teeth were. Then again the British did seem to have a peculiar aversion to visiting the dentist’s office.
‘Shouldn’t you be preparing for it then, instead of making a nuisance of yourself at my farm?’ said Gabe. ‘I’d stick to the day job if I were you, Bill.’
Bill Clempson bristled.
‘Standing up for my parishioners is my day job.’
‘Yeah, well. The Cranleys won’t be best pleased if you fluff the “I do’s”.’
‘I don’t work for the Cranleys,’ Call-me-Bill replied sanctimoniously. ‘I work for God. Nor do I care in the least what wealthy and powerful people might think of me.’
‘Unless their name happens to be David Carlyle,’ Gabe shot back. ‘I saw you blowing smoke up his arse earlier.’
‘Gabe!’ Macy looked horrified.
‘Not very dignified for a man of the cloth,’ said Gabe.
‘Now look here—’ the vicar began angrily.
‘No, you look here!’ Before Macy knew what was happening, Gabe was on his feet. Picking the vicar up by the lapels, like a ventriloquist manhandling his dummy, Gabe pinned him against the wall.
‘You know nothing about this village, Clempson. Nothing! You’re upsetting my wife and you’re upsetting my children. So I suggest you crawl back under whatever rock you came out from, before I crush you like the pathetic little insect that you are.’
‘If you care so much about your wife’s feelings,’ Bill Clempson stammered, ‘perhaps you should reconsider how you choose to spend your lunch hours, Mr Baxter.’ He looked meaningfully at Macy. ‘Instead of lashing out at others.’
The insinuation was too much for Gabe. ‘You little weasel! What are you implying?’
Bill Clempson let out a distinctly unmanly whimper as Gabe drew back his fist.
‘Gabriel!’ The landlord marched over.
‘What?’
‘Put him down.’
Gabe hesitated.
‘Put the vicar down, Gabe, or you’re barred. I mean it.’
Aware that all eyes were on him, Gabe released the reverend. Call-me-Bill slid to the floor like a sack of rubbish.
‘We’re leaving anyway.’ Reaching into his wallet, Gabe dropped two twenty-pound notes on the table. Grabbing Macy’s hand, he pulled her towards the door. As they stormed out of the pub, a camera clicked frenziedly.
A woman seated a few tables away watched them go, then turned to her husband.
‘If Valley Farm ’s half as dramatic as this, I’m definitely watching it.’
‘Me too,’ said her husband. ‘That American bird’s a
Macy decided it was time to change the subject. ‘You know, you’re really good on camera.’
‘D’you think so?’ Gabe’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I was shitting bricks, to be honest with you. I’ve never done anything like this before. I couldn’t bear it if I were a total failure and let Laura down.’
‘No chance of that.’ Macy patted his hand across the table. It was quite astonishing how often he mentioned his wife, and how obviously in love with her he was. ‘You’re a natural.’
Just at the moment their hands touched, the vicar appeared at their table, looking both smug and disapproving, as if he’d caught Gabe out at something illicit.
‘Hello Gabriel. Miss Johanssen.’
‘Bugger off, “Bill”,’ said Gabe. ‘We’re trying to have a quiet lunch.’
‘I was only saying hello.’ The vicar blushed. ‘There’s really no need for profanity.’
‘That’s debatable,’ grumbled Gabe.
Macy gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I hear you have a big wedding this weekend, Vicar?’
‘Indeed I do.’ Bill Clempson smiled back. Macy tried not to look shocked by how crooked his teeth were. Then again the British did seem to have a peculiar aversion to visiting the dentist’s office.
‘Shouldn’t you be preparing for it then, instead of making a nuisance of yourself at my farm?’ said Gabe. ‘I’d stick to the day job if I were you, Bill.’
Bill Clempson bristled.
‘Standing up for my parishioners is my day job.’
‘Yeah, well. The Cranleys won’t be best pleased if you fluff the “I do’s”.’
‘I don’t work for the Cranleys,’ Call-me-Bill replied sanctimoniously. ‘I work for God. Nor do I care in the least what wealthy and powerful people might think of me.’
‘Unless their name happens to be David Carlyle,’ Gabe shot back. ‘I saw you blowing smoke up his arse earlier.’
‘Gabe!’ Macy looked horrified.
‘Not very dignified for a man of the cloth,’ said Gabe.
‘Now look here—’ the vicar began angrily.
‘No, you look here!’ Before Macy knew what was happening, Gabe was on his feet. Picking the vicar up by the lapels, like a ventriloquist manhandling his dummy, Gabe pinned him against the wall.
‘You know nothing about this village, Clempson. Nothing! You’re upsetting my wife and you’re upsetting my children. So I suggest you crawl back under whatever rock you came out from, before I crush you like the pathetic little insect that you are.’
‘If you care so much about your wife’s feelings,’ Bill Clempson stammered, ‘perhaps you should reconsider how you choose to spend your lunch hours, Mr Baxter.’ He looked meaningfully at Macy. ‘Instead of lashing out at others.’
The insinuation was too much for Gabe. ‘You little weasel! What are you implying?’
Bill Clempson let out a distinctly unmanly whimper as Gabe drew back his fist.
‘Gabriel!’ The landlord marched over.
‘What?’
‘Put him down.’
Gabe hesitated.
‘Put the vicar down, Gabe, or you’re barred. I mean it.’
Aware that all eyes were on him, Gabe released the reverend. Call-me-Bill slid to the floor like a sack of rubbish.
‘We’re leaving anyway.’ Reaching into his wallet, Gabe dropped two twenty-pound notes on the table. Grabbing Macy’s hand, he pulled her towards the door. As they stormed out of the pub, a camera clicked frenziedly.
A woman seated a few tables away watched them go, then turned to her husband.
‘If Valley Farm ’s half as dramatic as this, I’m definitely watching it.’
‘Me too,’ said her husband. ‘That American bird’s a
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