Chapter 9

It almost goes without saying that I got more involved with the revamped Village shop than I intended. All of the fixtures and fittings needed renewing. As well as new fridges for the shop, there was the necessary equipment and signage for the tearoom side to be purchased. I just got on and paid for all of this without making a fuss, unlike Helen, who had to broadcast it every time she did any little thing. I got the W.I. a line of credit with the wholesalers by standing guarantor. The fact that the shop would be up and running again was my main motive.

When the opening day finally arrived, the Women’s Institute ladies insisted that I came and saw what Helen had achieved.

The shop and tearoom occupied the same general area. The shop was on the right, with the four tables and chairs on the left. This was quite convenient as it meant that the volunteers could help out wherever they were needed. I say volunteers, I think that Helen had press-ganged most of them. I managed to slip away fairly quickly.

Oh, by the way, don’t put nail varnish remover on your nipples. It will come off in the shower. Eventually!

I’m not much of a telly watcher but I do love to see a history documentary. If I have an odd hour to myself I go on to the BBC iPlayer where there are so many to choose from. The overwhelming message that a lot of people miss is that things were different in the past. We can’t change it, we can only learn from it. There have always been injustices and we all need to ensure that they are not repeated.

There are a lot of game shows on TV, too. I’m not a big fan but, if I can, I like to watch the first five or ten minutes. I live in hope that one day when the host asks the retired headmistress from Chelmsford, “And what do you do in your spare time?”

She is going to reply, “My husband and I like to go dogging.”

It hasn’t happened yet. But, as I say, I live in hope.

One afternoon, I was trying to sneak past the shop without being seen when someone tapped on the tearoom window. Two ladies were frantically gesturing for me to come in. I’d been caught so I couldn’t really avoid it.

The tearoom side was empty apart from the two old dears. Helen was in the shop along with Mardy, the retired blacksmith. She had persuaded him to ‘volunteer’ to take care of the heavy lifting side of things.

I said good morning to them as I passed by.

The ladies were Alice, who is 101, and her young daughter who is only 78. The daughter is also called Alice but everyone calls her Lis. They have both lived in the village all their lives and had a wealth of stories about the old days and the old ways. The women in these parts seem to last a lot longer than the men. What I really liked about them was that they always called things what they were. In the country, a horse had a pizzle and they called it a pizzle (or sometimes a prick if they wanted to be polite).

They asked if I wanted coffee but I told them I would have tea. Lis called over to Helen for a pot of tea for one.

Alice said, “I’ve really wanted to talk to you for some time. I’m glad to hear that you are now the keeper of the Yew Tree Farm Book.”

“How on earth did you know that?” I replied.

“Village women know these things. The menfolk have their Secret Society but we have real secrets,” she said.

“It’s always been the same. My mother and grandmother told me things that would cause townies like Helen to have a heart attack,” she whispered.

“If you only knew,” I thought.

Young Lis went on in a hushed voice, “We are both getting on a bit now and are worried that most of the stories will be lost.”

“I thought that stuff was specific to Yew Tree Farm,” I said quietly.

Alice chuckled and said, “No, my dear, nearly every farm had its strange ways of doing things.

“My granny told me about Windy Ridge Farm. She said that the farmer had a daughter and four farm boys. He was desperate to ensure that she didn’t wind up pregnant so he told his wife to make sure that the boys were kept de-spunked. He thought that maybe she could toss them all off every few days.”

Lis joined in with, “She pretended that it was a chore. But it turned out that she had a real addiction to the taste of, you know, spunk. Every day she would put the boys’ lunch in a basket and take it out to where they were working. While they were eating their lunch she would eat hers.”

Both ladies giggled.

“My granny often said that every one of the Windy Ridge Farm boys had a stutter,” said Alice.

“The daughter never married. Some unkind people said it was because she looked like a horse. I’m not sure what the farmer was so concerned about. Sex before marriage was the usual way in the country. If the maid got pregnant the last man in her would marry her. Nearly everyone around here was related in some way so it didn’t really matter who the father actually was,” added Alice.

“God knows I had enough cocks before I got married. And after I got married, come to think of it.”

“Mother!” laughed Lis.

The ladies had an easy unabashed way about them and we chatted freely for about an hour.

Eventually, I reminded the ladies that I had a pub to run so I made my excuses. We agreed that it might be nice to chat further on another day.

As I was leaving, I heard Helen and Mardy discussing their hobbies and interests. I thought, “Why don’t they just tell each other what they really like to do?”