Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Seven

The dusty window display of the village shop looked as though it hadn’t changed in years. A yellowed Pukka Pies advert leaned against the glass next to sun-bleached cereal boxes and dented cans of cat food. Like many rural corner shops it stocked a wide range of items for those who did not have transport to travel to the nearest supermarket. Plant pots, fishing rods and fuses shared the shelf space with staple food items like eggs and bread.

A bell rang above her head as she pushed open the door. Liz hadn’t expected to find it so busy. Two middle aged women were behind the counter. One used a cheese wire to slice a lump of white cheddar from a large block. The other, perched half way up a ladder, reached for a jar of mint imperials on one of the higher shelves.

The three waiting customers made the shop seem overcrowded. One of the patrons wore a silk headscarf and leaned heavily on a walking stick. She chatted with a silver haired woman in a black wool hat. The third seemed slightly younger than the others and she carried a Yorkshire terrier under her arm.

At the sound of the bell they all turned to look at Liz, their gossip momentarily forgotten. The terrier growled and his owner reprimanded him with a tap on the nose.

“Don’t mind Henry, dear. He would never hurt a fly.”

“Except when he bit Michael’s ankle,” the one in the black hat added thoughtfully.

“It was dark, wasn’t it, my darling?” The dog’s owner seemed determined to exonerate her pet from all blame.

The lady with the walking stick took a step closer. “Good morning. You must be Miss Pargeter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Are you enjoying your visit to Pemberley?” Although she appeared the eldest of the three, her voice was firm and strong.

Liz wasn’t in the least surprised they knew her name, or where she’d come from. “Yes, thank you.”

“I am Violet Reynolds.” She moved her walking stick to her left hand as she held out her right to Liz, who shook it politely.

“Reynolds? Then is Mr. Reynolds is…?”

“My son.” She smiled proudly. “He took over the position from his father, God rest his soul.”

Liz quickly calculated her age. She’d guessed that the butler was at least sixty, so she couldn’t be any younger than eighty.

Mrs Reynolds introduced her companions. Miss Fisher, the lady in the black hat, bade them a brisk farewell as soon as she’d paid for her cheese. Mrs Thompson stayed a moment longer, choosing two or three more items from the shelves before leaving with her shopping basket in one hand and a yapping Henry under her arm.

“And this,” Mrs Reynolds continued, “is Mrs Tibbetts and her daughter Alice. They do a wonderful job of keeping this shop well stocked for our modest needs.”

Liz thought the amount of inventory they’d managed to cram onto the shelves was impressive. She’d already tripped over a broom handle that had been sticking out at odd angles next to the mouse traps and slug pellets.

When Mrs Tibbetts asked what she needed Liz’s mind went blank. Curiosity had prompted her to enter the shop and she hadn’t intended to buy anything. Glancing around the nearest shelves she grabbed the first thing she felt she could use. Liz paid for the toothpaste and followed Mrs Reynolds outside.

The old woman settled her basket more comfortably in the crook of her arm. “So, what do you think of the big house?”

“It’s beautiful. More so than I ever imagined.”

“I agree, although some might say we are a little biased here.”

They were walking towards the pub as three men came towards them, heading for the door. From a distance, Liz thought they were too young to drink. She wasn’t over tall, but none of them came above her shoulder. However, as she looked into their faces their weather beaten skin and bushy beards revealed their age.