Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night (42 page)
Sidney put his hand to her cheek and then let it fall. ‘Hildegard,’ he began, slowly and firmly. ‘I am so sorry. I do not know what to say. I have been distracted. But the truth is that I have always been terrified. I have been afraid that you might say no to me. I love our friendship. I do not want to do anything to endanger it. And I love you.’
‘That is good.’
‘Then are you ready?’
Hildegard looked directly at him. ‘I have been ready for seven years.’
That evening they returned to the vicarage and told the Reverend Humphrey Turnbull of their adventures. They did not yet tell him about their marital plans. ‘You’ve obviously been having a thrilling time. Perhaps you should write a book about your shenanigans?’
Sidney coughed. ‘They were a little more than that, Humphrey.’
‘Well you are here now. Do you have plans?’
Hildegard looked at Sidney but he refused to give the game away. ‘I think I’ll be leaving in the next few days. Tonight, however, I thought we could have a treat. The Eric Dolphy Quintet is playing at the Club Jazz Salon. I wondered if you’d like to join us?’
‘Jazz isn’t really my thing, Sidney. Thank you all the same.’
‘I suppose you are more of a Wagner man.’
‘Not at all. I prefer operetta.’ He looked mischievously at Hildegard. ‘
The Merry Widow
. That sort of thing.’
‘I do not trust widows who are merry,’ Hildegard replied.
‘Well, I hope you won’t be a widow much longer. I’m sure that Sidney could find you an agreeable companion back in England if he put his mind to it.’
Hildegard smiled. ‘I am sure he could.’
They walked back out through the streets and as soon as they were clear of the vicarage Hildegard put her arm through Sidney’s. ‘I suppose I should buy you a ring,’ he said.
‘I suppose you should.’
‘What kind would you like?’
‘Surprise me.’
‘I thought that nothing surprised you.’
‘Then let this be a first time.’
The club was already crowded when they arrived and they were given a table at the side. All around them, people were talking about the Wall and their relatives in the East. Sidney picked up the menu and saw that everything was more expensive than he had anticipated. Hildegard could tell he was worried but told him not to be. She had enough money, not for champagne, but for a nice white wine and a little Wiener schnitzel.
Eric Dolphy’s tonal bebop reminded Hildegard of Bartók and Stravinsky. Sidney was surprised how quickly she took to jazz and how much she liked it.
‘It’s all music,’ she said. ‘I think Pepsi Auer is very good on the piano. I wish I could play like that.’
‘I’m sure you could.’
‘I haven’t got the style.’
Sidney put his hand on hers. ‘You’ve got all the style I need.’
Dolphy improvised on his alto saxophone and then the bass clarinet, and his set included an unaccompanied rendition of Billie Holiday’s ‘God Bless the Child’. He stretched out the central melody and experimented with wide intervals, looping scales and blistering arpeggios, pulling the main theme away into something completely different, as if the original melody was a half-remembered dream. The drinks arrived as Dolphy took to the flute for ‘Hi-Fly’, before he began an energetic rendition of ‘I’ll Remember April’ with Buster Smith’s unfortunately lengthy drum solo. Hildegard told Sidney that she was irritated that the Anglican vicar had referred to their night-time canal crossing, which had taken place under the threat of gunfire, as mere ‘shenanigans’.
‘He thinks, because we are German, that the Wall and any suffering that results from it, is our own fault. He is almost amused by it all.’
‘I think it must be because he is frightened to take everything too seriously. He has seen hell. He thinks our gaze should be averted.’
‘So he makes jokes.’
‘For a priest, humour is important, Hildegard. You remember that Dante called his poem
The Divine Comedy
?’
‘Because it has a happy ending? What about the suffering beforehand? What about, in your words, “the Cross”: the suffering that earns joy? I think a clergyman should carry suffering with him.’
‘And you think that is what I should do?’
‘I do not think you should be trivial. I do not want a husband who is, I think the word is, “lightweight”.’
‘And I hope you have not got one. In turn, I do not want a lightweight wife.’
‘Then we should be well suited, Sidney. Only I would not want you to take me for granted.’
‘I would never do that.’
‘I am not so sure. Be careful, Canon Chambers. You are about to become my husband. At times you may expect me to be your little clergy wife but you will often get more than you anticipated. I will always be watching you.’
‘I see. You will be like the Stasi in our marriage.’
‘Not at all,’ Hildegard leant forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘I will be far worse than that.’
The wedding was to take place in early October. Sidney returned to make all the necessary preparations, asking Leonard to conduct the service with Hildegard’s sister Trudi giving the bride away. Inspector Keating had agreed to read the lesson, but not before reading Sidney his own version of the riot act. What had his friend been doing, hunting down members of the British secret service and jeopardising missions in a foreign country? He had discovered, from his contacts in the Foreign Office, that the shooting of Rory Montague had been specially staged by a series of agents as a distraction. The last thing they had expected to find was a clergyman right in the middle of it.
‘How was I supposed to know that?’ Sidney complained.
‘As soon as you saw Montague on the train you should have kept quiet.’
‘But no one warned me.’
‘You would have thought that the business on the roof of King’s Chapel would have been enough. You must have guessed that our men were involved even if no one fully explained it at the time.’
‘I wish someone had.’
‘No one expected you to go wandering round East Germany.’
‘I was not “wandering round”, Geordie. I was in pursuit of the woman I love.’
‘I thought you were keeping to West Berlin. That seemed fair enough. People couldn’t imagine you doing much damage there. A few weeks later there was even a wall to keep you in your place.’
‘I don’t think that it was meant for me.’
‘It might as well have been. Honestly, Sidney, what on earth did you think you were doing?’
‘I would like to remind you, Geordie, that I nearly went to prison. It’s not my fault that I was on the same train as a member of the SIS who, I would also like to point out, handed me secret documents about a chemical plant. For goodness sake . . .’
‘He must have panicked.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘I am not entirely sure. They only tell me what they think is necessary. Sometimes, Sidney, it’s probably quite important that you don’t know everything.’
‘And you do?’
‘I have just told you I do not.’
Sidney did not think that this was the time to posit a completely different theory: that Rory Montague was still working for the Russians and had stage-managed everything. He wondered whether there was such a thing as a ‘quadruple agent’. ‘Do you think I can’t be trusted?’ he asked.
‘No one doubts your loyalty, Sidney. Only there are times . . .’
‘When I am considered naive or indiscreet? That is most unfair, you know . . .’
Keating placed a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Let’s not argue. You are back safely, and these are happy times. I imagine the future Mrs Chambers will be living with us?’
Sidney was thrown by this change of tack and had never heard Hildegard described in that way out loud. He forgot his grievances and his uncertainty and began to think, once more, how extraordinary it was that he was getting married and how fortunate he had been to find this late-flowering love.
The day itself turned into a golden afternoon. The sun was out, the leaves on the elms were just on the turn, and there was that first autumn crispness in the air. The church of St Andrew and St James was packed with friends and family for the wedding. Sidney’s father, mother, brother Matt and sister Jennifer lined up in the front row alongside Inspector Keating.
Amanda gave him a little wink before the ceremony began. Sidney had expected that she might have expressed some doubt about these forthcoming nuptials, but she had been gracious and generous and had given Hildegard her full blessing. The only naysayer was, predictably, Mrs Maguire, who was unable to refrain from commenting on the bride’s refusal to wear white. As it was her second wedding, Hildegard had chosen a full-length dress with flared sleeves in darkest red, providing Mrs Maguire with the simple opportunity to remark that she had always been able to spot a scarlet woman.
‘It’s not scarlet, it’s burgundy,’ Amanda had informed her. ‘Like a fine wine.’
‘To be appreciated, and savoured again and again,’ Leonard Graham added.
‘That’s quite enough,’ Mrs Maguire replied, before moving on to pursue grievances elsewhere.
Orlando Richards began the service by playing Pachelbel’s Canon on the organ. He had laid on a special choir, filled with choral scholars and third-year students, and they had prepared some of Hildegard’s favourite music: ‘
Also heilig ist der Tag
’, ‘
Bist du bei Mir
’, and Mozart’s ‘
Exsultate Jubilate
’.
Leonard gave the address and managed to refrain from quoting Dostoevsky (something he had previously threatened). Instead he spoke of marriage as a gift and a blessing that could be shared both privately and publicly. It was like a garden, he argued. It needed to be nurtured. It had to be cared for with tenderness, for in that garden was the rose that was the bride.
The service ended with the hymn ‘Now thank we all our God’, using the melody from Bach’s cantata ‘
Nun danket alle Gott
’. As the bride and groom turned to face the congregation, they could see the world of their friends before them, asking for a bounteous God to be ever near them, guiding the perplexed and freeing his people from all ills, in this world and the next.
Hildegard slipped her arm through her new husband’s and they walked down the aisle together at last. Yes, Sidney thought, he had much to be thankful for: his home, his health, his vocation, his friends, his family, and now his wife. Life had certainly bowled him the odd googly, and doubtless there would be further tests, trials and tribulations, but just for now, and on this day, it was to be enjoyed in all its fullness and with all its wonders, the most wondrous gift of all being nothing less than the love of such a fine woman: his very own, his beloved, Hildegard.
James Runcie is Head of Literature at the Southbank Centre, an award-winning film-maker and the author of five novels.
Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death
, the first of ‘The Grantchester Mysteries’ series, was published in 2012. He lives in London and Edinburgh.
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The Grantchester Mysteries
Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death
Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death
The first book in ‘The Grantchester Mysteries’ series
‘Inspector Morse would appear to have a rival’
Scotland on Sunday
‘A charmingly effective tale of detection ... evoking oodles of churchy village atmosphere, circa 1953, provides a satisfyingly old-fashioned read’
The Times
