Chapter 28

There was one couple in the village who were regulars at the Crown but only on a monthly basis, George and Hilda Wilkins. They came in on the last Sunday of every month for lunch. George would have a pint of bitter and Hilda a lime and lemonade. Both made these last the entire visit. They were not mean, merely very thrifty. They were not well off and lived near Mr Turner and Bill Purdey in the terraced cottages. George had worked at Manor Farm but was now riddled with arthritis and retired. Hilda added a bit to their income by doing a couple of cleaning jobs in the village. However she was also the de facto mistress of the village hall and had a finger in most village pies. Her pride and joy though was the village fete which was held annually on the last Saturday of August.

On the last Sunday in July she was clearly very upset when she and George arrived at the Crown for lunch and soon made clear what was troubling her.

"It's them Cunninghams as moved into The Green a couple of years back," she said. "They've said that if we're planning to have fireworks after the fete they're going to complain to the council and have the whole thing cancelled. We've had fireworks ever since I've lived in this village and that's a good few years seeing as I was born here. The fete wouldn't be the same without them. Who do they think they are? They haven't been here no time at all."

"Why are they so against the fireworks?" asked Wendy.

"'Cos they frighten their dogs. Are they going to do the same for Guy Fawkes? We only ever has fireworks twice a year. Bloomin' interfering newcomers!"

There was general sympathy all round but nobody had any suggestions to make. Jenny listened but kept quiet.

She mentioned it to James as they went to bed that evening.

"That's sad," he said, "but I don't think there's anything we can do about it. It's not really our business either. Hilda and her fete committee are the people to deal with it."

"You're right but I can see the Cunninghams being ostracised which may make them even more selfish-minded."

"More fool them!"

"And yet, they don't seem unpleasant people. They've always been friendly and polite when they come in here. They haven't been the life and soul of the party, I admit, but I think they're quite shy and the village always takes an age to accept newcomers. We were lucky because we run the pub."

"I still don't think it's any business of ours."

Jenny had her doubts but said no more. In fact, she gave the matter no more thought that night as James made such ardent love to her that any coherent thought was beyond her.

The next morning though as she did her cleaning of the public rooms and restocked the bar it was very much on her mind. At eleven o'clock she told James she was going to take the dogs for a walk, which she did but also called on Mrs Cunningham.

The Cunninghams had two King Charles spaniels which were yapping in the background when Margaret Cunningham opened the front door.

"Hello, Jenny," she said. "This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"I've got a problem I'd like to discuss with you."

"I see. Well, it's a nice morning why don't we have this discussion over a cup of coffee in the garden which will mean the dogs can get to know each other more easily."

She closed the front door behind her and led Jenny and her dogs round the side of the house to the back garden, closing the side gate as they went.

"There now," she said. "You can let them off the lead as they can't get out. I'll bring my two back with me. In the meanwhile sit yourself down and make yourself comfortable."

She disappeared back into the house.

"I'm sure she knows what I've come about," thought Jenny, "but she's being very friendly. Hmm!"

"Now," said Margaret with a smile as she returned with the coffee and dogs and sat down, "what's the problem? Actually, I'm prepared to bet it's about the stand we've taken on fireworks at the fete."

Jenny grinned. "How did you guess?" She turned serious. "The thing is it's no business of mine either so if you want to tell me to get lost you're quite entitled to do so."

Margaret smiled back. "In that case, I'm intrigued. Tell me."

"Hilda Wilkins has been running the thing for years. She and her husband came into the pub yesterday for their monthly Sunday lunch and she was complaining bitterly. A lot of it was along the lines of 'They're new to the village. Who do they think they are messing about with our fete?' As you can probably imagine, she enlisted quite a lot of sympathy."

Margaret sighed. "I'm sure," she said. "I can understand their feelings but my husband and I thought long and hard before we decided to act as we have. The last thing we wanted to do was to make enemies in the village." She gave a lop-sided grin. "We hoped, in time, to be accepted but I can see that that could be a faint hope the way things are going but we do have to think of the dogs."

Jenny nodded. "They're all getting on very well together," she said.

"They usually will if left to themselves. Anyway, we were taken completely by surprise by the fete two years ago and the dogs nearly went dotty with the bangs. So for Guy Fawkes we got some sedative from the vet. That helped a bit but they still went round in a state of nerves for days afterwards, jumping and yapping at everything and off their food." She smiled ruefully. "And that's saying something. Mealtimes are major occasions.

"Last year we arranged to go and stay with our daughter for the fete weekend but we can't do that this year for various reasons and we don't see why we should have to fork out for a hotel or B and B that will accept dogs."

"I can see your point," said Jenny. "Badger isn't the least bit worried by bangs but Whisky absolutely hates them. Of course, living here slap bang beside the recreation ground you get the full brunt of the fireworks."

Margaret nodded. "Exactly," she said.

"We're quarter of a mile away," said Jenny, "and will be giving Whisky a sedative and reckon at that distance he'll be OK. He'll have to be because we're running the bar and the barbecue at the fete and won't be there to comfort him. I wonder if we could kill two birds with one stone."