The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (25 page)

The practicalities of his decision raced round his mind. He’d have to let people know he wouldn’t be here, couldn’t just depart when he was officially back. Say he had a family emergency, which in truth he had. Heavens above, what was losing your wife, the only one he would ever have on this earth, and your children, other than an emergency? Contact the vicar in Culworth, let Willie know, rearrange the two evening meetings he had for this coming week, and the Friday morning school prayers. He could be away by lunchtime at the latest. He’d have to go by train. Then, God willing, he could drive them all back.

Peter went straight back into the house, showered, and set the alarm for six-fifteen. He slept soundly for the first time since she’d left.

Sylvia, who’d come in at eight as she usually did when she was working, was delighted at his decision.

‘You start making your phone calls, I’ll pack you a bag and I’ll take you into Culworth if you like. My car’s just been serviced so it’s not likely to break down.’

Peter couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘That’ll make a change.’

‘Rector! I love that car.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not, not if it’s made you laugh.’ She flapped her hands at him, grinning. ‘Go on, get things organised.’

Despite his energetic endeavours he had the greatest difficulty in contacting the people he needed to speak to before he left. He seemed thwarted at every turn. By eleven-thirty he’d made his last phone call.

Sylvia insisted he had something to eat before he left. ‘You’ve had next to no breakfast and a bite to eat now will stand you in good stead. A big chap like you needs good solid food.’ He began to protest, he wanted to be off. ‘I insist, never mind those wretched sandwiches British Rail serve, all clammy and sweating in those plastic packets. Sit down, it’s all ready. And you’ve to let me know when you’re coming back and I’ll have everything ready for you all.’

His face changed and she saw him withdraw back into his anguish again. She could have bitten her tongue out. He pushed his plate away and stood up. ‘You eat this, I can’t.’ The phone rang. ‘I’ll answer that, it might be—’ He hurried to the study.

Someone in the parish had died. Finally, at half-past twelve, Sylvia left to get her car while he went to the bathroom to check his shaving kit and put it in his bag. The cats were watching him, as though they knew they were going to be deserted. They mewed and padded about after
him, getting under his feet as he moved between bathroom and bedroom. Suddenly they left. He went to the top of the stairs carrying his bag and saw them race to the front door. It opened and there stood Beth and Alex, and behind them Caroline.

‘Dada! Spots going. Beth better now.’ She pulled up her T-shirt so he could see her chest. ‘Look!’

‘Dada, Dada, look Granda buy Alex boat, look Dada.’

Caroline and Peter looked gravely at each other, he from the top of the stairs, she from the hall. In the soft light they couldn’t quite read one another’s thoughts but their eyes devoured each other, measuring, weighing up, estimating the ravages of the last week. She was alarmed by his appearance; he was drenched with relief by hers.

To cover his shock he spoke to the children first.

‘Hello, darlings, have you had a good holiday? Daddy is pleased to have you back.’ When he reached the floor of the hall he put down his bag and hugged the two of them, kissing them and admiring Beth’s receding spots and Alex’s boat. They rushed off to look for Sylvia, leaving him and Caroline to greet each other.

‘Are you going somewhere?’

‘Actually I decided in the night I would go up to Northumberland, but I got delayed. Someone chose to die, and things … and …’

‘I’m glad they did. We’d have looked pretty silly, you up there and me down here.’

‘Yes, we would. Very silly. You’ve come back then.’

‘Of course. I made up my mind in the night. I thought, There he is, that darling man of mine, and he’s wanting me and I’m wanting him and I’m going to him. I could see you, for some daft reason, in the garden by the nasturtiums laughing about the caterpillars. Stupid, aren’t I? And I
wondered how my garden was and … and whether you were well and that … that sort of thing.’

‘Whatever time did you leave?’

‘I got up at five and packed like a maniac and the children wake early anyway, so we set off. We’re dying for something to—’ The door opened and in came Sylvia, her face alight with relief.

‘You’re back!’ Sylvia, who’d always maintained a certain reserve in her relationship with Caroline, opened her arms wide and went to hug her. ‘I’m so glad, so very glad you’re back.’

Caroline embraced her and said, ‘So am I.’

‘Would you like a cup of tea, something to eat?’

‘Oh yes, please, you’re my saviour. Thank you.’

Sylvia went to the kitchen to greet the children. Caroline stood close to Peter. For the moment she couldn’t kiss him or hug him; their estrangement had been so severe, they’d have to come to that later that night when they were alone, but she touched his face with her fingers. ‘What have I done to you? My beloved darling.’

‘Nothing your being here won’t heal.’

Her eyes intently searched his face, looking warily for his reactions. She said, ‘Mother told me off – called me a fool. She was right. Said I didn’t deserve a man like you. Said it was only idiots who ran away from love. Said you are her bestest son-in-law to date, and if I ever do this again she’ll turn me straight round and send me back.’

‘I’ve always approved of your mother’s common sense. How is she?’

‘Frustrated by inactivity but bossing us all around as ever. They’ve brought help in so they’re going to be all right. Dad isn’t too perky; Mother won’t let him rest, she will make him do things that he’s not really up to yet. But they’ll
have to sort themselves out.’ Caroline grinned at him. ‘When Mother heard me packing in the night she shouted from her bedroom, “And not before time”.’

Peter laughed. ‘Only she could have survived such a serious accident so brilliantly.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled and made as though to kiss him, but changed her mind. Her voice shook as she said, ‘I’ll go and give Sylvia a hand.’ He followed her into the kitchen, where the children were already seated at the table drinking from their Bunnikin cups, waiting for Sylvia to finish making their lunch. The sun had come out again and was shining into the kitchen, welcoming them all back. Sylvia looked at the two of them as they went in. She turned back to the worktop to finish putting the sandwiches on a plate and said, ‘Can I invite the children to tea this afternoon? I’ve bought some things at the Red Cross sale they might like to play with. Make a change for them, wouldn’t it?’ She looked at Caroline. ‘I could take them straight after they’ve finished lunch.’

‘Thank you, Sylvia, that would be a lovely idea.’

‘Bring them back about six after their tea?’

‘Thank you, yes, thank you.’ Peter recognised the unspoken message between them. Without it being mentioned, the two of them had arranged time for him and Caroline to be alone.

The children were eager to see what Sylvia had bought for them and they rushed off hand-in-hand with her, without so much as a backward glance.

‘Be good, the two of you, be good.’ Caroline closed the door and stood with her back to it. She was glad to have time alone with Peter, but it would have been a relief to have been able to postpone their reconciliation until her tiredness had lifted. She could hear Peter clearing the lunch
away. She’d make a fresh pot of tea, just to have something to do to stop herself from clutching hold of him and never letting go. They must sort things out before that happened. ‘I’m making myself more tea, would you like some?’

‘Yes, please. They’ve found Roman ruins up at the Big House, by the way. The Show is in jeopardy yet again, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh no! I don’t believe it. What has … Louise … to say?’

‘My darling girl, I have no idea, I haven’t seen her. She’s replacing someone up at the Big House so she’s very busy. This Roman ruin caper has certainly upset the apple cart. There’s an emergency meeting this Thursday, Sylvia says. You’ll find out then, I expect.’

‘Yes, I expect I will. Mr Fitch must be going mad.’

‘I imagine so. I haven’t seen anyone to ask.’

‘I see. Here’s your tea.’

‘Let’s go into the sitting room, the chairs are more comfortable.’

‘Right.’ Caroline led the way, Peter carried the tray in and placed it on the coffee table. They sat together on the sofa. When it had brewed he poured them each a cup.

Together they both said, ‘Darling …’

‘Sorry. You first.’

‘No, you first.’

Peter put his cup down and began, ‘I’m going to tell you what we said that morning. Every word. And you’ve to listen and then I’ll listen to you. OK?’

‘Yes.’

He told her word for word as best he could remember, even the kiss and the cross he made on her forehead and her sadness at not being able to see the twins, and how she’d sobbed and that she was marrying Michael and how he’d
given her his blessing as she left, and how she meant nothing to him now.

Caroline told him about her fear. Fear that, seeing Suzy, he would want her and they’d take the children and go away and how it would crucify her if they did. After all, seeing her again he might realise it was Suzy he wanted more than her, but she couldn’t live without him and his children. And did he think that now might be the best time to tell them because they’d
know
without
understanding
; the understanding would come in time but wouldn’t, hopefully, hurt so much if they already
knew
. ‘I feel as if we have to put things straight and then they’ll stay straight for the rest of our lives. I went away partly because I was so distraught and partly because I wanted to get the children away from you both so you couldn’t take them from me. I may not have given birth to them, but they are mine, believe me they are mine. This problem with Louise, too. I felt so threatened and like a fool I ran away instead of standing and fighting for what was ours.’

‘You had nothing to fear. Nothing at all. There is never any question of that. Please believe me. You’re right about telling the children. We’ll tell them together when the right moment comes, I don’t know how we’ll put it to them, but we will somehow. Then we shall be straight, as you say, for the rest of our lives. God bless you for coming back.’

She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He began to touch her, remembering her anew. He stroked her hand, kissed her hair which smelt of sea and sand, he ran a finger down her bare brown arm, he kissed her fingers. Trying not to disturb her head he turned himself gently towards her, and put an arm across the front of her, around her waist. He savoured the living life of her, the beat of her pulse, the smell of her flesh, perfumed and
sweet. His hand touched her breast and he rubbed his fingers back and forth, enjoying the warm firmness of it. She took that hand in hers and with eyes still closed she kissed the palm, and then put it back.

He raised her up and put an arm around her shoulders so she rested half on his shoulder, half on his chest. He held her like that while she slept.

‘Well, Mr Fitch, I had a word with Gilbert Johns, he’s our tame archaeologist around here, and he said nothing must be done till a team can get here to investigate.’

‘You told him?’

‘Well, of course I did. We need this solving.’

‘I never gave you permission to do that! There is one thing you must understand, no, not understand,
accept!
I decide what happens around here, not you. Right?’ Louise nodded, gritting her teeth at his male arrogance. ‘I came back here last night with the intention of persauding,’ he indicated inverted commas with his fingers, ‘the men to lay the pipes and cover it all up and mum’s the word.’ Mr Fitch rubbed his forefinger and thumb together as though he was feeling twenty-pound notes. ‘You know?’

Louise did know, but she couldn’t let him do it.

‘Yes, but …’

‘Yes, but nothing. I’m going out there now and just watch me get my own way.’

She watched him march out of the office door and across the hall. Masterful he might be, but she’d a nasty feeling that it would be Gilbert out there. He’d said as much on
Saturday morning when she’d showed him his well-organised music cupboard.

‘My dear Louise, I shall be grateful to you to my dying day. What a miracle! If I’d done it, it wouldn’t have been half so well organised as this. I just meant to make piles and leave it at that. But these wonderful plastic folders and the list. Amazing. I didn’t know we had half this stuff. How can I ever thank you. It’s a wonderful gift you’ve given me, it really is.’

Louise had blushed. ‘It was nothing, really – not once I’d worked out how best to do it. Have you seen the handwritten anthems? I don’t know enough to identify them, but you will. Look, here they are.’ She’d checked the catalogue she’d made and then found the right shelf and pulled them out for him to inspect.

Gilbert had sat down to study them and she’d stood by awaiting his comments. He was so scruffy. No, not scruffy, kind of untidy in a scholarly way. Despite the chilly morning all he wore was a pair of old cotton trousers and a bright burnt-sienna shirt open almost to his navel, which meant she had glimpses of a seriously hairy chest. The sleeves were rolled up, showing dark brown sinewy arms. All that digging, she thought. On his bare feet were a pair of sandals, scarcely more than a couple of leather straps fastened to a thick hard-wearing sole. She noticed his toenails were scrupulously clean and neatly cut. Her nostrils kept catching a trace of his earthy scent as she stood waiting for his verdict; it stirred her inside in a strange kind of way. His face was striking. He wasn’t handsome like … Peter, but the hollows of his cheeks, and the prominent cheekbones and the piercing brown eyes were intriguing.