Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night (35 page)

‘Don’t speak.’

Cartwright’s Kennels was situated on the outskirts of King’s Lynn, next to a farm on the road to Hunstanton. Mrs Cartwright was a small thin woman with tired skin and short, unwashed blonde hair that was probably cut by a friend rather than a hairdresser. She wore jeans tucked into Wellington boots and a loose olive-green jumper that seemed too hot for summer. Sidney explained that he was thinking of offering Dickens as a stud dog. This could perhaps be for free, in exchange for one of the resultant puppies.

Mrs Cartwright was wary. How old was Dickens and was he of breeding quality? Did he have pedigree and did his owner have the necessary paperwork leading back to his great-great-grandparents? Had he been checked for brucellosis, entropion, ectoprion, inherited eye disease and dysplasia? What was his hip score?

Sidney was out of his depth, and although Mrs Cartwright said that she would need far more information, she was, at least, happy to show him round. He could meet the bitches and see the scale of her operation. Her aim was to produce good-looking, healthy and well-socialised pups from carefully planned litters. It was an emotional and risky business, she told him, vet’s fees were increasing all the time, and she hated saying goodbye to eight-week-old puppies after she had cared for them so lovingly and when their personalities were already shining through.

Sidney was surprised to see a set of concrete outhouses that looked too inhospitable for dogs. ‘Do you own those buildings too?’ he asked.

‘Oh, they’re just storage. They’re full of my husband’s stuff.’

Sidney could hardly believe his luck. ‘Does he help with the dogs?’

‘He’s in London most of the time. He just comes back in the holidays.’

‘Is he a teacher?’

The owner pushed back a strand of hair that had blown over her face in the wind. ‘University.’

‘I see. That must be difficult.’

‘What makes it difficult?’

‘Him being away.’ Sidney could tell that she was only entertaining this kind of conversation because he was a priest rather than a dog breeder.

She knelt down and began a quick inspection of Sidney’s Labrador. ‘I like it. It leaves me free for the dogs while he gets on with his work. He telephones most days.’

‘Don’t you miss him?’

‘He’s my best friend.’

‘And you don’t need to see him to know that he loves you, I’m sure.’ Sidney smiled encouragingly.

She did not reply and Sidney knew that he could not pursue this conversation without arousing suspicion. He needed to switch back to the subject of dogs. ‘I have Dickens as my best friend.’

Mrs Cartwright visibly cheered. ‘He is?’

‘What I like about him is his reliability and his optimism. If only people were the same.’

‘It’s why we breed dogs; so we can pass on their qualities to the next generation. We’re always seeking to improve the breed.’

Mrs Cartwright returned to discuss the possibility of Dickens becoming a stud dog. Did Sidney know his dog’s conformation well enough to be able to tell just how his qualities could improve on those of the bitch? Did Dickens have a strong rear or front that would compensate for one weaker in those areas? Did he have a good layback of shoulder, a nice ‘double thigh’ and the proper tail set?

Sidney struggled to answer these questions but assured Mrs Cartwright that he would be happy to leave Dickens for a full assessment. There were other things he needed to do in King’s Lynn.

‘Would you be here for the engagement?’ she asked.

Sidney was inwardly startled by the question. ‘How long are dogs normally engaged for?’

‘At least twenty minutes.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Canon Chambers, you do know what “engagement” means? It’s not like having a fiancé. It’s mating. Is he fertile?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘So he hasn’t been a stud before?’

‘Not as far as I know. I am not always sure what he gets up to.’

‘I need to know if he’s got the libido to do the job effectively.’

‘I think he’s got that all right. He’s very keen on lady Labradors on the meadows.’

Mrs Cartwright was unimpressed. ‘The fact that he has a tendency to chase every bitch in sight, whether she’s in season or not, doesn’t necessarily mean that he will have a clue what to do when it comes to the point. Dogs can behave very differently at the crucial moment. A bit like human beings. You’re not married yourself?’

Now they were back on course. Sidney laid aside his embarrassment at being asked such questions. ‘I am hoping to find a wife, but it’s not easy for a clergyman. How did you meet your husband?’

‘It was after my mother had to sell our farm in Cornwall. We’ve never been lucky with money. My dad dropped down dead, the debtors came and we had to do a flit. Mum came to stay with her sister up here and brought me with her. Tony was just about to leave for university . . .’

‘And so . . .’

‘We were childhood sweethearts. He was the first boy at his school to go to Oxford. He studied so hard, and I used to help him in the holidays until his work got too difficult to understand. His dad had passed over too and we went on these great big walks along the beach with the dogs. Have you been to Holkham? I think it’s the best in the world. If we had the weather people would think it was the Caribbean.’

‘And you got married here?’

‘In the registry office. We’re not churchgoers, I am afraid, Canon Chambers.’

‘I suppose it’s not as popular as it once was . . .’

‘Never have been. That was a long time ago, though; over twenty years. Be silver soon and we’re not that old.’

‘How often do you see each other?’

‘He is always busy in London but he gets here every other weekend. We always have the summer together, and a bit of Christmas and Easter. It’s easier when you don’t have children.’

‘You didn’t . . .’

‘We couldn’t. Don’t know why. Doesn’t matter too much now, I suppose. The dogs are my children.’

‘And is business good?’

‘It’s terrible really; we’re always needing money. Tony sends me some whenever he can, but London’s expensive and that’s where he is.’

‘You did say what he does, but I’ve forgotten,’ Sidney remarked as casually as he could. He only needed one final confirmation and then he would leave immediately for the registry office.

‘He teaches at the university.’

‘I do a bit of teaching myself. I wonder what subject . . .’

‘Physics. It all goes over my head, but he tells me that I don’t need to worry. I’m his time off. When he’s here he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. He says it is always such a wrench to leave but he has to earn money otherwise we won’t have anything to live on. I know it sounds a bit weird, living apart, but I can rely on him and if I’m anxious about anything he will come.’

‘I’m sorry about the money worries.’ Sidney realised he was pushing it but couldn’t help himself.

‘There’s not much we can do about that. But Tony told me last week he’s got a big job coming up and that should bring in quite a bit extra. It’ll mean working away from home a little bit more than usual but it’ll be worth it. We can convert the outbuildings, have a bit more space, and maybe even go on holiday together. He was talking about America.’

‘You’ve never been?’

‘Neither of us have. Tony’s scared of flying but says he’s going to treat me to a trip to California. It’d be quite something, don’t you think?’

It took some nerve for a man to describe his forthcoming nuptials as ‘working away from home a little bit more than usual’ and Sidney began to wonder about the psychology of bigamy.

‘Do you want to go ahead with this?’ Mrs Cartwright asked. ‘It’s quite a procedure.’

‘I think I’ll wait. Although I could perhaps put my name down for a puppy, couldn’t I?’ He thought he could give one to Leonard, if only to see the look on his face.

‘I’ll take your address then. We should have some in September.’

‘That would be most kind. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your first name?’

‘You can call me Mandy. Mandy Cartwright.’

Sidney marvelled at the nerve of a man who was planning on having two wives with exactly the same name.

He visited the registry office and established the facts. Then he walked back through the streets of King’s Lynn. People were braving the wind, hoping the rain would hold off. He telephoned his sister to find out where Amanda was and discovered that she was already preparing for a wedding rehearsal that was due to take place that night. ‘It was the only time the vicar could manage’, she said. ‘I don’t think gatecrashers will be welcome,’ she warned, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking of doing.’

Sidney kept his own counsel. It was going to be quite a business telling Mandy Cartwright why she needed to join him on the next train down to London.

Holy Trinity, Sloane Street was a suitably decorative venue and the apotheosis of the Arts and Crafts movement, with an imposing Italianate marble exterior and stained-glass windows by Morris and Burne-Jones. Sidney had always found it gaudy, imposing, and a little too close to Roman Catholicism for his taste.

As he entered the darkness from the brightness of an early summer evening, he stumbled across a group of flower ladies who were preparing a series of freestyle floral displays of carnations, chrysanthemums, lilies, gladioli and roses. There was going to be a scene, Sidney knew, and for one moment he began to doubt whether he was doing the right thing. But Cartwright was on the verge of breaking the law – his wife needed to see for herself what was going on – and Amanda had spurned every attempt at a warning.

The rehearsal was already under way by the time they arrived. Jennifer stood by Amanda, and a best man Sidney had never seen before was next to Cartwright. The priest was telling the couple when to come forward, where to stand and when to kneel, and he asked the best man whether he had the ring. Everything was straightforward, he told the prospective bride and groom. It was
their
day, and the beginning of
their
happiness, and he would do everything possible to make it unforgettable.

He then proceeded to go through the order of service, casually remarking that no one had ever, in his experience, piped up to say that they knew of any just cause or impediment.

‘There’s always a first time,’ came a voice from the south transept.

It was Mandy Cartwright.

‘What is going on?’ the priest asked. ‘I can’t understand that there is a problem. I have published the banns for the last three Sundays.’

‘That man is my husband.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Amanda Kendall scoffed. ‘He is about to be mine.’

‘Amanda . . .’ Sidney began.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘My God,’ said Cartwright.

‘How could you do this?’ his wife asked.

‘For us,’ Anthony Cartwright replied. ‘For money.’

Amanda realised the horror of the situation. She turned and slapped her fiancé’s face.

Sidney walked up to the prospective groom. ‘Dr Cartwright, when I asked you at our first marriage preparation if either of you had made your vows before, you denied that you had done so.’

‘That is correct.’

‘You lied.’

‘You asked me if I had made them “before God”. I made them in a registry office. That is not the same thing.’

Sidney was thrown by the lack of apology or embarrassment. ‘The laws of the Church and the laws of man are equally binding in matters of marriage,’ he continued. ‘Dr Cartwright, you are already married. You’ve never been to America. You’ve lied about your career and cruelly deceived my greatest friend. I am too angry to explain further. You have defrauded Miss Kendall.’

‘I think you’ll find she gave her money willingly.’

‘How could you?’ Amanda asked at last. ‘How could you do this to me?’

‘I tried to love you,’ Dr Cartwright replied. ‘And I almost succeeded.’

‘Don’t make it worse,’ his wife said.

‘You beasts,’ spat Amanda. ‘Are you in it together? Has this happened before? Were you plotting the whole thing? How could you? What am I going to do? How am I going to tell anyone? It’s unbearable. You’re vile. All of you. Vile.’

Jennifer took her by the arm and led her away.

‘Come on,’ Mandy Cartwright told her husband. ‘You have some explaining to do. Don’t think you’re going to get off lightly.’

They walked off in the opposite direction, followed by a silent best man, leaving Sidney alone with the priest.

‘I thought I had learned not to be surprised by anything,’ the Reverend Lionel Tulis began. ‘But this really does take the biscuit.’

‘I wonder about the origins of that phrase . . .’ Sidney mused. ‘It doesn’t seem enough to explain what we have just witnessed. Mrs Cartwright remained so practical throughout. It almost makes you wonder if it has happened before.’

‘I suppose we could both do with a cup of tea. Unless you’d prefer something stronger?’