A Tangled Web (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE

Bates's Farm was part of the Standing estate, and the Bates family had been tenants there for three generations before Robert. His mother and father, Olive and Ted Bates, had settled obediently, as was expected of them, into the work of the farm. After Grandfather died, Granny Bates moved to Barrow Cottage next to the pub, where she was handy for cups of tea with old Mrs Beasley, and the pair of them had sat in Victoria Villa's front window pronouncing acidly on the evil doings of the village. Granny Bates followed Ivy's mother quite soon to the graveyard, where they lay companionably next to one another.

The farmhouse was a pleasant old stone building, foursquare and with the front door facing a small garden, where Robert kept the grass neat and tidy, and his father lovingly cultivated large, deep blue delphiniums and not much else. The vegetable garden was another matter, and the cornucopia of produce from the richly manured earth kept the family going summer and winter.

Olive Bates doted on Robert, her only son, especially since he had been a frail baby, and though she was reticent and not at all articulate, she showed her great love for him by cooking and cleaning, washing, ironing, knitting and sewing, making a warm, secure home for him all through his childhood and early years of being a man. Like Ivy Beasley, she had not been at all sure about his engagement to Mandy Butler, a town girl who knew nothing about farming, and so far showed no signs of wanting to learn.

'Why couldn't he have chosen from his own kind?' Olive said to her husband, who as usual grunted his reply. Ted Bates was a tall, thin man, already bent with years of physical strain on the farm, and with a big hook nose that glowed red after a good night out with the boys in the Standing Arms.

'It's not as if we had another son to take over the farm,' said Olive.

She stood by the window, looking out over fields full of sheep, green fields and greyish-white, woolly sheep, like a child's picture book. But Olive, a wiry woman with short, straight grey hair, saw only a tough, demanding farm, which had taken all the energy of herself and her husband, and in due course Robert too, to keep going in spite of weather and all kinds of unexpected diseases and economic pressures over the years.

'There is only Robert, and he'll need a proper wife to help him,' continued Olive, warming her roughened hands in front of the fire.

Ted Bates looked up at her over the top of his spectacles. He was sitting in their comfortable front room, where an unseasonal log fire insulated them from the dingy, damp day outside the small-paned windows. It was Sunday, and Robert and Mandy were due for tea. Olive had baked a large, golden fruit cake, and had placed it on Granny Bates's cut-glass stand next to a plateful of small, crustless sandwiches. The best china was set out on a crisp white embroidered tablecloth, waiting for the young couple to arrive.

'Good God, woman, I ain't dead yet,' said Ted Bates, and returned to the Sunday paper, his lips moving unashamedly as he read.

'You never do want to look to the future,' said Olive. 'So long as you got a pint in your hand and the weather's not too bad for the farm, that's all you care.' She disappeared from the room, banging about in the kitchen and filling the kettle noisily from the old brass tap.

'There ain't a girl livin' as you'd think right for our Robert,' said Ted under his breath.

The sound of a car set the old liver and white spaniel barking in joyful anticipation, and as Robert and Mandy came through the back door into the kitchen, bringing in a flurry of moist air and farmyard smells, the dog leapt up at Mandy, catching his claws in her long black jersey. Her shoulder-length silky brown hair was loose, and her pretty legs were shown off to advantage in their tight black leggings. Ted looked at his only son with envy.

'Charlie! Get down at once!' scolded Olive, apologising profusely. Mandy smiled bravely, and smoothed down the snags in her jersey. She was well aware of how unsuitable she must seem to the
Bates’s, and had made a private vow to be the best farmer's wife in the district. 'I'll show them snotty Young Farmers,' she had said to Robert, who said he didn't want her to change one bit, he loved her exactly the way she was.

'I thought we might settle a few things over tea, Mandy,' said Olive Bates. She had been delighted and flattered that the wedding was going to be in Ringford, and, whilst being very shy of offering help to Mandy's mother, she meant to have a reasonable hand in all the excitement of planning a village wedding. It would have been so much better if Mandy had been a village girl, but there it was. 'It is lovely for us,' she said. 'It was one of my sorrows at not having a little girl. Now we shall have a Ringford wedding after all.'

'Done something right, then,' Mandy said quietly to Robert, as his mother went to fill the pot. 'If I could dredge up some long-lost farmer cousin it would be almost perfect.'

But Robert saw only the lovely girl he had fancied since schooldays, who miraculously felt the same about him. All talk of townies and not knowing what hard work was passed over his besotted head.

'Reverend Brooks has booked the date in February, and we've to go and see him together,' said Robert, handing round the tea for his mother.

Mandy made a face. 'No embarrassing stuff about the facts of life, I hope!' she said.

'Bit late for that, I should say,' said Ted, and Olive frowned at him. Trust him to make a coarse remark, she thought. I hope Mandy won't be offended. Olive knew, of course, that young people all tried out what she would have had difficulty in finding words for. But that didn't mean you had to mention it, let alone make jokes about it. She changed the subject.

'I'm going to ask your mum and dad to come next Sunday,' she said, 'then we can have a real run through what's left to be done. A winter wedding is really unusual, isn't it?' It was another thing that didn't suit Olive. No Ringford girl would get married in mid-winter. Could be snowing, and none of the guests get through. And flowers will cost a fortune, and the Village Hall will have to be heated for hours before the reception. Still, thank God we're not paying for it, she thought. Ted had offered to buy the drink - typical of him, that - and the rest was up to the Butlers.

Ted went off into a deep, snoring sleep, and the evening advanced, Mandy helping Olive with the washing up and chatting desultorily about wedding plans. Olive found her future daughter-in-law difficult to talk to, having nothing in common with an attractive young hairdresser from town.

'We'll be off now, Mother,' Robert said, as soon as it was tactfully possible. 'See you later.' Olive nodded, and watched the lights of the car as they drove off towards Tresham.

'She'll not settle easily,' she said to Ted, who continued to snore. Olive sighed. Marriage to Ted had been hard work with few treats. He had expected her to carry on where his mother had left off, and she had done so unquestioningly. Now she saw in Robert and Mandy a different way altogether, more of a partnership, and in that partnership there was no room for her. She sniffed, and bent down to pick up the newspaper which had slid from Ted's lap.

He snuffled and choked, and surfaced enough to say something which Olive didn't catch. 'What did you say, Ted dear?'

He opened one eye and looked at her in surprise, the endearment having got through the barriers of sleep.

'You goin' deaf, Mother?' he muttered. 'I said to put another log on the fire, that's all.' And he rearranged the cushion behind his head and went back to sleep.

Robert and Mandy sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Mandy said, 'Your father and mine have one thing in common, anyway.' Robert looked sideways at her, his eyebrows raised.

'They both snore their horrible heads off,' said Mandy, all her pent-up resentment making it sound a deadly offence.

Robert laughed, and slowly cruised the car to a halt. He put his arm round her and kissed her until all the tension went out of her and she remembered it was Robert she was marrying, not his miserable father.

Unfortunately, Robert had stopped the car outside Barnstones, where the curtains were not yet drawn. Octavia Jones was standing morosely at the window, wishing some thing wonderful would happen, when she saw Robert's car draw up under the single street lamp at the bottom of Macmillan Gardens.

Her heartbeat quickened, but then she saw the two shadowy figures become one, and it was more than she could bear. 'I'm going out, might go to Tanya's,' she said to her parents who sat peacefully reading the Sunday papers. Before they could question her, Octavia had grabbed her jacket and disappeared, banging the front door as she went.

CHAPTER TWENTY -FOUR

Octavia shivered in the evening chill as she half ran out of her gate and turned into the dark street. The light outside the pub illuminated the pavement and road, and she made her way towards it without really thinking where she was going, or what she intended to do. A dog barked, frantically yapping from Macmillan Gardens as she passed, and she saw a white flash as the Jenkins terrier shot across the grass, in hot pursuit of something shadowy and terrified.

Hope it's not Mrs Palmer's cat, she thought, walking by the shop, closed off and unwelcoming with its white blind down over the big window.

A dark figure turned out of the Village Hall and approached. Octavia recognised the bulk of Mrs Jenkins, and immediately turned round and began to walk back towards home. 'Don't want that fat old cow asking questions,' she muttered.

She heard Mrs Jenkins's footsteps fade as she turned into the Gardens, and Octavia continued back along the main street. She had no intention of going to the Brights'. She knew Tanya was away, staying with her grandmother. Better go home, I suppose, she thought. They'll only give me another of their sympathy sessions if I don't.

But the thought of being smothered with parental concern was more than she could take, and she walked on, past Barnstones and Price's farm, and out of the village on the Tresham road. She just wanted to think about Robert, and without irritating distractions began to construct one of her favourite fantasies. In the darkness, walking steadily, she imagined the bathing pool, a wide stretch of the Ringle where children splashed and learned to swim by the shallow far bank. The sun shone from a clear blue sky, and she was alone in the pool, all by herself and naked. No need to be wearing a swimsuit if nobody was around.

She felt the thick mud beneath her feet as she tried to stand up in the deep part of the pool. Then her feet were sinking in, and she lost her balance. Fear made her shout, and, just as the water was closing over her head, Robert came dashing along the river bank. 'Hold on, Octavia, hold on, I'm coming!'

His strong arms were round her body, gently lifting her out of the water. She felt the warmth of his breath on her face, as she slowly opened her eyes. She saw her own slender, sun-tanned body stretched out on the warm grass, and Robert bending anxiously over her.
'Octavia! Are you all right?' She smiled at him, and saw the expression in his eyes change from concern to passion . . .

Dazzling lights jolted her back to the cold emptiness of the Tresham road, and she jumped on to the muddy verge for safety.

The car slowed and stopped, and Octavia could hardly believe that it was Robert's voice. 'Octavia! Are you all right?' he said; and came walking back towards her.

She smiled at him, but in the darkness he could see only the outline of a pale, young face. 'You silly girl,' he said, 'it isn't safe to be out here at night, walking along the edge of the road without a torch or anything. What are you doing, anyway? You ought to be back home with your mum and dad.'

'Give me a lift, then, Robert?' said Octavia, back in the real world. And without waiting for his answer, she climbed into the passenger seat of his car and fastened her seat belt.

They drove in silence for a minute, and then Robert said, 'Lucky I was coming back early. You never know who might have picked you up.'

'Nothing would have happened to me,' said Octavia. 'I was going to turn back just about then.'

'You've caused enough trouble lately, young lady,' said Robert. 'You ought to think of your parents a bit more. They must be worried sick by now, wondering where you've got to.' He pulled up outside Barnstones, and Octavia got out, slamming the door shut and standing on the pavement looking resentfully at Robert's car. He wound down the window and shouted, 'Go on, I want to see you open that front door.'

Octavia shrugged and turned into her garden, slinking along the path and turning to blow Robert a mocking kiss as she opened the door and disappeared inside.

Greg, his overcoat buttoned up and scarf tied round his neck, stood by the fireplace, and Gabriella sat on the edge of her seat, rigid with tension. They were both listening to the door opening and the sound of a car starting off outside. Gabriella began to get up, but Greg motioned to her to sit down, and she sank back on to the sofa. They heard rustling sounds in the hall, and then after a few moments the sitting room door opened and Octavia came in.

'Octavia!' said Gabriella, shooting up from her seat. 'What on earth has happened to you!'

The silky blonde hair was wild, tangled and falling over Octavia's face, and her jacket had been twisted round, revealing one shoulder where her shirt was open down to her waist, her bra showing alarmingly white and exposed.

She rushed to her mother and began to cry, sobbing louder as she got going.

'Sit down, child,' said Greg, and then, to Gabriella, 'Don'tpanic, Gabbie, let's calm her down and hear what she has to say.'

He had an odd feeling. He had seen dramatic outbursts many times in his career as a teacher, and had grown to recognise the genuine from the carefully calculated. There was something about the speculative look in Octavia's eyes as she came into the room ... but maybe he was wrong.

He got up and made a pot of tea, while Gabriella quietened down Octavia, straightened her hair and clothes. She held the smooth hands in a protective grasp. 'Hush, 'Tavie, Mother's here, you are quite safe now,' she crooned.

'It was a man, gave mt' a lift back into the village,' said Octavia, when she had emptied the mug of sweet tea and settled back among the cushions. 'I went to the Brights', but Tanya wasn't there, so I thought I'd go for a walk. I went up the Tresham road, but it was cold, and I'd just turned back when this car stopped and the driver offered me a lift. I got in, and he started off, but then he stopped again and began to pull me about, and then I screamed . . .' She stopped, her lips trembling, and put her hands to her face.

'Take it steady, girlie,' said Greg. 'Take your time.'

'Then I got out of the car and ran, ran and ran, until I was home and safe.'

'Thank God,' said Gabriella. 'And nothing else happened?

‘He didn't try to ...' She dried up, and Greg took over.

'That's all he did, just pulled your clothes about a bit?' said Greg, frowning.

Gabriella scowled at him. 'That must have been terrifying, darling,' she said to Octavia, and her voice began to rise, 'but why on earth did you accept a lift from a stranger in the dark? Did you recognise him, get a good look at him?'

Octavia was silent, staring at Gabriella with brimming eyes. 'Well?' said Greg. 'Who was it? Do you know who it was?'

Octavia answered in a muffled voice, and Gabriella reached out and put her arm round the girl's shoulders.

'What did you say, darling?' she said. 'It was Robert Bates.'

Tears began to fall again in the shocked silence, and Greg pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his daughter.

'Christ,' he said. 'What do we do now?'