Village Secrets

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘Well, will you listen and sort me out? Please, Peter?’

  ‘Of course.’ And he had. And he’d listened sadly to her promises to come to church every Sunday, now she had reformed. And he’d wished he could believe her, and had pretended he did.

  His regular Monday visit to Penny Fawcett had been delayed an hour by Valda and Thelma Senior begging forgiveness and wanting to take communion, something they hadn’t done in years. He’d put them off, said they needed to think some more before they did that. Ralph and Jimbo had both come to see him, to seek assurance in their own way. Ralph had said he was sorry about Simone, but Peter knew full well that underneath Ralph was glad the whole matter had been resolved and if it took a death to do it, so what? The village had been saved from destruction and that was what counted. Peter had visited Kate in school to check on how she was coping, and of course the children were eager to embellish the story of the fire, and request his version of it.

  Brian wanted to know where had Mrs Paradise stabbed him?

  Flick asked about Cat and had she gone to heaven like her poor old Orlando? Stacey had said, ‘My dad says good riddance to bad rubbish.’

  A comment Peter felt compelled to explore for his own sake as much as hers.

  Altogether he felt trampled. It wasn’t just Simone’s death, it was the ramifications of it which he found so difficult. And those children. Fatherless all their lives and now motherless. At least the baby, Opal, was too young to know the pain of grief.

  He felt Caroline beside him. She put her hand in his and said, ‘You’ve got to hold on in there. You’ve so much to achieve, so much waiting to be done which can only be done by you. If it’s any help, you are my best beloved. I adore you, and I adore your children; they’re like my own flesh and blood. They are mine, I think, sometimes.’

  Peter gripped her hand tightly. ‘Thank you. Two such inadequate words, but believe me they are from my heart. Without you I couldn’t carry on.’

  Chapter 25

  Kate had gone to bed early the night after Simone’s death. She’d hoped to sleep for hours, she was so exhausted. Up all night and then school all day with the children hyped-up by the night’s events, her nerves and her body were strung to breaking point, but she couldn’t get to sleep. Kate half-remembered that line from Macbeth: ‘Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care.’ If only!

  She got up and went to the window. The sky was clear, the village at rest. The moon came out from behind a cloud and lit the houses with a caressing silvery light. English nights weren’t like African nights. English nights were gentle and comforting. African nights, dramatic and challenging; there were times when the blood ran cold at the triumphant howl of an animal or the death screams of tortured prey. Turnham Malpas nights were mild, reassuring, and tranquil by comparison. Kate shook herself. Tranquil? Anything but, of late.

  She should have gone in herself to rescue Simone, but the heat! The flames – and Cat! Simone … Jacob … Africa! All in ashes. Her head spun. Well, she’d have to allow the flames to cleanse her of everything evil. She’d been possessed. Absolutely possessed! She’d have to go to Peter soon and tell him how she felt and what she was going to do, now it was all over. What was she going to do?

  Her fingers trailed a pattern on the windowsill. Around the carving of a black child, around a ceremonial knife, around a carved wooden necklace Jacob had given her. Part of the cleansing would be getting rid of anything and everything which reminded her of Africa. Cat had gone – she paused for a moment and grieved – now all the things which hitherto had been such precious mementos must go, too.

  Kate resolutely swept the carvings from the windowsill, then rushed to that awkward corner under the eaves and swung angrily at the crystal ball and the candles. The ball fell with an enormous crash, the candles rolled silently across the carpet. She put her slippers on and stamped on the candles, breaking them into a hundred pieces and grinding them into the carpet. She dragged the picture from the wall above the altar and tore it to shreds.

  From her wardrobe she took every item of black clothing she could find and stuffed them all into binbags. What she’d wear tomorrow for school she didn’t know, but they had to go.

  In the kitchen she took her cook’s scissors and chopped great lengths from her hair. Then she ran a bath and scrubbed herself, every inch of her body until her flesh stung.

  At two o’clock she fell into bed and slept.

  ‘Mummy! Mummy! You’ll never guess what! Not in a million years will you guess.’

  ‘Tell me then,’ Harriet called out.

  ‘Ms Pascoe’s cut her hair. It’s so short you wouldn’t believe. We didn’t recognise her.’ Flick held her finger and thumb three centimetres away from each other and said, ‘That long, that’s all. And you’ll never guess something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She was wearing a funny old red shirt and a blue skirt. They didn’t match at all, but it did make a change. She’s not wearing black any more, she says. She’s going into Culworth this minute to buy clothes, she says.’

  ‘Well, well.’

  ‘And,’ Flick took a deep breath, ‘and she’s going to have two of Mrs Biggs’ kittens.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes, she is, and …’ Flick paused for dramatic effect.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And she’s calling them Beano and Dandy!’

  ‘What sensible names.’

  ‘I told her they’d have to have names or they’d have an identity crisis, being two of them. You couldn’t call both of them Cat, could you?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘And she’s organising a holiday for anyone who wants to go – a five-day geography field trip.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, it’s only for the leavers, though. Not absolutely everyone.’

  ‘Of course not, they’re not old enough.’

  ‘Exactly. Mummy, can I go?’

  ‘We’ll ask Daddy about it.’

  ‘Daddy will say yes. He always does for me. That’s because I’m going to work in the Store when I’ve qualified.’

  ‘Qualified?’

  ‘Got a degree in something, and I shall work up from the bottom in the business in the holidays.’

  ‘Is that really what you want to do?’

  ‘Well, the boys aren’t interested, are they? And I am, so I shall. We shall have lots of Stores when I’m helping Daddy, and you can be rich and do nothing all day like you do now.’

  ‘Thanks. I shall look forward to that.’

  ‘I’m to be Queen of the May. You’ve to go and see Ms Pascoe about my dress, please, she says.’ Flick sat herself down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Darling, how lovely.’ Harriet kissed the top of her head. ‘You’ve kept the best till last. Daddy will be thrilled.’

  ‘Where’s my biscuit? Oh, home-made – lovely!’

  ‘That’s just one of the thousand things I’ve done today. I shall go and see Ms Pascoe tomorrow about your dress. How exciting. That’s wonderful!’

  ‘And my milk, please. Where’s Fran? Thanks.’

  ‘Playing with the twins.’

  ‘I wish she wouldn’t. I like her to be at home when I get in. She is my sister. She likes the twins too much.’

  ‘Well, they are more her age, aren’t they? And they are good fun. It gets lonely for her here on her own when you’re at school. They love looking after her.’

  Flick sipped her milk thoughtfully and then, not looking at her mother, said, ‘I shall be glad to leave school. You outgrow things, don’t you? Sometimes they seem to talk such nonsense. It happens and you don’t know it till they say something and you think that was stupid.’

  ‘I know just what you mean. Geography field trips can be very uncomfortable – tents and things. Are you sure you’d like that?’

  ‘Oh, we wouldn’t be in tents. We’d be in a big house. I’d like that.’ Flick stopped at the door for a moment. ‘Ms Pascoe’s quite different toda
y. She took prayers herself, and we didn’t meditate.’

  ‘I am glad.’

  ‘So am I. It was a bit silly, wasn’t it?’ Flick trailed away upstairs leaving Harriet feeling that her little girl had suddenly grown up overnight. Thank God Kate had decided to join the rest of the human race, and not before time.

  Kate rang the rectory bell at eight o’clock that night. She’d come to talk to Peter. Make a clean breast of everything and tell him she’d done with voodoo and black magic. All it had brought was tragedy – to Jacob; to Cat, to Simone. It was a moment before her ring was answered. When the door opened, it was Caroline standing there.

  ‘Why, Kate! How lovely to see you. You look so different – it’s your hair. Do come in.’

  ‘Thank you. Is Peter in?’

  ‘Out, I’m afraid. Can I help?’

  ‘Oh well, I’ll leave it then, come another night.’

  ‘Please don’t. I’m all by myself, the children are in bed and I’d enjoy some company.’ She didn’t want Kate to leave; this could be her chance to find out.

  Kate stepped back out again on to the stone step. ‘No – no, thanks.’

  ‘Please!’ Caroline pleaded with her.

  Kate smiled. ‘Very well then. Yes, I will – why not?’

  ‘Good. I’ll take your coat.’ She held out her hands for it and then gasped when she saw what Kate had on underneath. ‘Oh, what a lovely suit, such a gorgeous red. I’ve only seen you in black before. And your hair – turn round, let me see. Oh, it really suits you.’

  Kate looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve been into Culworth and put all my black clothes in the bin.’

  Caroline studied her face. ‘New start?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad.’ Caroline showed her into their sitting room. ‘Do sit down.’

  Kate took an easy chair. ‘I think I said this the last time I was in this room, but I’ll say it again. I do like it very much.’ She looked round appreciatively.

  ‘You should have seen it when we moved in. Foolishly Peter said we would take it as it stood, furniture and all.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘It was dreadful.’

  ‘Well, it’s beautiful now.’

  ‘Thank you. Getting organised for May Day?’

  ‘Oh yes, indeed! Flick Charter-Plackett is to be Queen of the May and we’ve chosen her attendants; now we’re practising the dances. I’ve got a group of mothers in charge of the refreshments, and I’ve organised the muscle required for bringing the piano onto the Green and carrying out the Maypole. So, all we need now is the weather.’

  ‘I understand there’s only been one year when it rained so much they had to hold it in the school, and that was 1902! So, with luck …’ Caroline crossed her fingers and laughed.

  ‘Don’t you think that’s wonderful, this kind of ongoing memory?’ Kate enthused. ‘It gives such stability, such a sense of history. We’re all so lucky to be living here, aren’t we?’

  ‘We certainly are. You know the village has this superstition that when the royal oak tree dies, the one on the Green’ – Kate nodded– ‘then the village will die too. They all felt we came pretty close in the recent storm. They considered it was brought on by – well, witchcraft. You’ve had a narrow escape, Kate. The village can be very vindictive if something doesn’t suit.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause and Caroline decided to come straight out with it. She’d a right to know.

  ‘My cat.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My cat Mimi.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  Unexpectedly Caroline’s throat was choked with emotion, and she couldn’t continue.

  Kate said, ‘I’m sorry, you were saying …?’

  ‘Her collar was found by the fire in Sykes Wood.’

  Kate flushed as comprehension dawned. ‘I see. I didn’t know the cat was yours.’

  ‘What happened? I’ve a right to know. It was you, wasn’t it?’

  Kate chose her words with care. ‘I was there, yes. She came upon us that night quite by chance. She must have been hunting or something.’ Caroline nodded. ‘Simone said, and Thelma and Valda agreed with her, “Here’s our chance to experiment.” I said, “No, we mustn’t. It’s not right,” but they wouldn’t listen. Venetia wasn’t too sure, and Rhett and Ellie and the weekenders were nervous. “What? Do what?” they said. Simone raised her voice, stretched her arms towards the heavens and said dramatically, “Sacrifice her!’”

  Kate wasn’t looking at Caroline when she said that; she was staring into the fire, recalling the horror of it all. If she’d looked at Caroline, she wouldn’t have continued or, at the very least, would have softened certain aspects of the story, but she felt as though she were in the confessional, and her own need drove her on regardless of Caroline’s feelings.

  ‘Simone said—’

  Caroline snapped: ‘Simone! Always Simone! Didn’t you have a mind of your own?’

  Kate looked shocked. She didn’t answer for a moment and then she said, ‘I suppose that’s right. At that moment I didn’t. But afterwards I did, and protested.’

  ‘When it was too late for my Mimi.’

  ‘I’m sorry, yes. When it was too late.’

  ‘Did she suffer?’

  ‘No – well, I don’t think so.’

  ‘You must know whether she suffered!’

  ‘You see, Simone mesmerised her. Spoke to her, hypnotised her, I suppose, so she didn’t feel the knife.’

  Caroline leapt to her feet. ‘The knife! What knife?’

  ‘Simone’s.’

  ‘Simone had a knife ready?’ Caroline sat down again. ‘How … how do you know she didn’t feel it?’

  ‘Because she didn’t fight back.’ Kate stared into the fire again, reliving the moment. ‘Just lay there motionless, and let herself be sacrificed.’

  ‘Sacrificed? Oh, God! I can’t believe I’m talking to a human being. How could you, an intelligent, educated person, allow such a thing to happen? My dear cat, whose only crime was happening upon you at that moment – how could you do it to her?’

  ‘I only watched.’

  ‘Only watched!’ Caroline’s voice rang with sarcasm. ‘Oh well then, that exonerates you, doesn’t it?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t. I know that now. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What then?’

  In a voice scarcely above a whisper Kate said, ‘Then we laid her on the altar as an offering.’

  Caroline’s voice was dry and throaty as she asked, ‘By then, she was properly dead, I hope.’

  Kate nodded. The silence between them lengthened while Caroline came to terms with what she’d heard and Kate tried to come to terms with herself.

  Peter walked in at that moment. Neither of them had heard his key in the door. He stood just inside the room, looking first at one and then the other, puzzled by the pent-up emotions he could feel.

  Kate was the first to notice he was there. She smiled briefly, apologetically at him.

  As he put down his sports bag, Peter said, ‘Lovely to see you, Kate. I’m just back from playing squash, as you see. I’m going to take a shower and then perhaps—’

  ‘Kate’s just leaving.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I was going to suggest—’

  ‘I said, she’s leaving.’

  Kate faced Caroline. ‘I’m so sorry. If I’d known it was your cat …’

  ‘Any cat, any cat at all, not just mine. The guilt is the same. Has it all stopped now with Simone gone?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘So I should think. Not before time. Such evil. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘It has stopped. Definitely. I shall never forgive myself for coming under her influence in such a way. It all stemmed from my experiences in Africa and my grief at losing Jacob. It seemed a comfort at the time; it assuaged my grief a little. But I admit I’ve been totally wrong.’

  ‘Such evil, in this lovely place. The others were just foolis
h and misguided and afraid – but you, you actively agreed with it all. You knew and understood the thinking behind it. You deserve some kind of punishment for what you’ve done; what you’ve encouraged by your lack of protest.’

  ‘I’ve been punished.’

  ‘Oh – how?’

  ‘I’ve lost my cat too, in horrific circumstances.’

  ‘No more horrific than my poor Mimi’s. Just go – leave my house. Perhaps one day when I feel you are truly repentant I might be able to forgive you, but not right now. Peter’s much better than me at that kind of thing.’

  Kate left the two of them, took her coat from the chair in the hall and let herself out.

  ‘Whatever you do, don’t sympathise nor ask me what she’s just told me. Please.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘By the look on your face a brandy might fit the bill.’

  Her hands were shaking as she took the glass from him. ‘Go and have your shower.’

  ‘I thought I’d delay that for a while, till you look better.’

  ‘I need to be alone.’

  He bent over intending to kiss the top of her head, not knowing how else to express his anxiety, but Caroline pulled her head away. ‘No! No sympathy, or I shall fold completely.’

  When Peter came back downstairs after his shower, she was still sitting where he’d left her. The colour had come back into her face, and the brandy glass was empty. She glanced up at him as he stood before her.

  ‘Sorry for being snappy.’

  ‘That’s all right, my darling, I understand.’

  ‘You’re too forgiving of me. I wish I could be the same to her.’

  ‘You will one day. You’re too generous not to be.’

  ‘It doesn’t pay to love too much, does it? Love brings so much heartbreak with it.’

  ‘You mean Mimi?’

  ‘People too, really, not just animals.’

  ‘To get things in proportion, let’s thank God it’s not one of the children you’re grieving for tonight.’

  ‘Oh Peter, what a perfectly dreadful thing to say!’ Caroline burst into tears and sobbed as though her heart would break.

  Peter knelt down in front of her and took her in his arms. ‘Darling! My darling!’ He stroked her hair, while he waited for her tears to subside. ‘Please, please don’t distress yourself so; I should never have said that. I’m so sorry, so sorry.’ He lifted her head from his shoulder and tried to look into her face, but she wouldn’t let him. ‘Whatever happens, remember it’s always, always worth loving to the utmost; nothing less is neither right nor good. You can’t hold back on love.’