His foot propped on the brass rail running along
the bottom of the bar, a gin and tonic in hand, Peter toasted Caroline:
'Happy birthday, darling!'
She clinked her glass with his and smiled up at him. 'And the same
to you.'
Peter bent down to kiss her. 'I say this every year, and I say it
again; how many married people are there who celebrate their birthdays
on the same day?'
'Somewhere, someone knows the answer to that, I suppose. Do you remember
how sentimental you used to wax about our marriage being ''written
in the stars'', ''this was meant to be since the beginning of time'',
et cetera, et cetera, all because our birthdays were on the same day?'
Caroline grinned up at him.
'Don't mock. I meant it and still do.'
'I know you do, and I'm eternally grateful that you do.'
'Always will mean it, no matter what.' Peter put his glass down on
the bar and surveyed the crowded bar. 'I don't think we could have
chosen a busier night.'
'You're right there.'
The Royal Oak had been in business since, as the villagers often stressed,
the beginning of time. The thatched roof, the ancient white walls
bulging slightly more than they had done five hundred years ago, the
huge open fireplace which boasted a real log fire in the winter months,
and the mighty oak beams all leant a feeling of timelessness, of permanence,
of a kind of security which encapsulated the feeling everyone had
about their village.
From the other side of the bar Georgie called out, 'I've just realised
it's your birthdays, isn't it? Next drinks on the house, OK?'
Peter thanked her. 'Where's Dicky tonight?'
'Night off.' Georgie turned away to serve yet another customer. 'Yes,
sir, what can I get you?'
Caroline, enjoying a birthday which some months ago she had thought
she would not live to see, said to Peter, 'Harriet and Jimbo are late.
I wonder if our table's ready? I'm starving.'
'So am I. I'll go see.' He threaded his way between the tables, stopping
for a word now and again.
'Evening, Rector, 'appy birthday!'
'Thank you, Jimmy.'
'Your birthday is it, then? Many more, sir, many more.'
'Thank you, Don, Vera.'
'Many happy returns, Rector, and that's from Sheila too.'
'Thank you, Ron.'
He left a swathe of smiling faces behind him. Caroline, watching,
smiled inside herself. He might have his ups and downs with them all
but at bottom they were on his side. What a difference he had made
to them since he had arrived. Stirred them up and no mistake. She
hoped they'd never need to leave, because her roots had gone deep
down here in this village and you couldn't ask for more than that.
Her eyes lit up when she spotted Peter signalling from the dining-room
doorway that their table was ready.
'But, Peter, what about Jimbo and Harriet? They're not here yet.'
'They've rung. Crisis with the children; they're just leaving.'
'Oh, brilliant. I wonder what's wrong?'
'No need to worry,' he smothered away her frown with a gentle finger.
'Fran has had a temper tantrum.'
'Oh dear.'
Bel was in charge of the dining room tonight, a slimmer, more light-footed
Bel of late. She beamed at the two of them and they couldn't help
but notice what a lovely heart-warming smile she had.
'Good evening! We've given you the best table, seeing as it's a celebration.
Jimbo and Harriet are on their way. Happy birthday to you both.'
'Thank you, Bel.' She handed them each a menu and padded away to attend
to other diners.
The door between the dining room and the bar opened and Harriet and
Jimbo walked in. Her dark hair damp and curling, her slightly sallow
skin flushed with anxiety at her late arrival, Harriet waved when
she caught sight of them. Jimbo stood behind her, smoothing his hand
over his bald head which gleamed in the light over the tiny reception
desk in the doorway. More round than he would have liked, Jimbo was
a commanding figure. Energy, both mental and physical, exuded from
every inch of him. 'Sorry we're late!'
Peter stood up to pull out Harriet's chair for her. 'Good evening,
Harriet!'
She reached up to kiss him. 'Happy birthday, Peter. Happy birthday,
Caroline! How useful of you to have your birthdays on the same day.
It halves the remembering!
'To say nothing of the cost!' Jimbo took Caroline's hand and kissed
it. 'Happy birthday, my dear, and many of 'em.' He squeezed her hand
and she knew exactly what it meant. A gesture of delight at her survival.
Tears came into Caroline's eyes. She blew her nose and remained quiet
for a while, listening to the chatter and pretending to study her
menu.
'Fran Charter-Plackett! She's so amenable, fits in without a murmur
with anything we plan and then suddenly wham! bang! she's on the floor
drumming her heels and screaming like a hell cat!'
'Jimbo, darling! She did have a good reason, or so she thought.'
Peter asked what the reason was.
Harriet explained. 'We've a guest coming to stay tomorrow, and Fran's
having a practise go on the put-u-up in Flick's bedroom tonight. We'd
talked about it and I'd put her favourite sheets on the bed, done
all I could, but when it came to it . . .'
The mention of a guest brought Caroline's head up from the menu. 'Who've
you got coming?'
Jimbo wagged a finger at her. 'Wouldn't you like to know!'
Harriet protested. 'Jimbo!'
'If Caroline guessed until this time next week she wouldn't get it
right!'
'You're teasing me! Come on, tell!'
Harriet laughed. 'It's a college friend of ours. Compared to Jimbo
and me, who've only managed to rise to the dizzy heights of running
a Village Store . . .'
Peter interrupted her, scornful. 'Only . . . Considering the success
you've made of it . . .'
Harriet silenced him with a finger to his lips. 'Hush now. Wait for
it.' She intended to pause to increase the dramatic effect but couldn't
wait to see their faces. 'His name is Hugo Maude.'
A silence greeted her announcement. Caroline stared open mouthed.
Peter stared, not believing he had heard correctly.
Caroline, stunned, stammered out, 'Hugo Maude! Not the Hugo Maude!'
'The very same!' Jimbo smiled at her astonishment. It was lovely to
see her so taken out of herself.
'You mean Royal Shakespeare-Broadway-Stratford-Hugo Maude?'
'The very same!' Harriet glanced at Peter, amused by his more controlled
reaction.
Caroline, seized with amazement, said, 'How long is he here for?'
'As long as it takes.'
Bel came for their order.
'With salad?' They all four nodded. 'Jacket potatoes, sauté
potatoes?'
Jimbo began to ask for sauté potatoes but hastily changed his
order to jacket when he caught Harriet's eye.
'House wine, or something special?'
Peter asked for something special.
When Bel left, Caroline said, 'How long what takes?'
'The poor lamb has been terribly ill. Some ghastly virus he picked
up when he went with the RSC to Tokyo, it came close to finishing
him off. So Jimbo and I thought we'd ask him for a quiet stay with
us away from the press and such, so he could recuperate properly.'
Caroline persisted with her questioning. 'How come we've never seen
him before?'
'Too busy. Never stops. Acting dominates his entire life.'
Caroline nodded her head in complete agreement. 'To be able to act
as he does it would, wouldn't it? Only to be expected.' She paused.
'Shall we have a chance to meet him, do you think?'
Harriet grinned. 'I expect so. In fact I promise you shall, but I'm
not planning anything until he's been here a few days. I don't know
just how ill he is.'
'Oh, of course. Yes. I see.'
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