Village Secrets

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Caroline’s sobs began to lessen. She wiped her eyes. ‘I …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not so much grieving for Mimi as for what Mimi meant to me when I was alone.’ She gave a great shuddering sigh. ‘Of course, you’re quite right. Thank God I’m not grieving for one of the children. That’s too frightening even to contemplate. I love them so. And I’ve caused Beth such pain. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Not at all. I’ve realised this parenthood business is something we have to learn as we go along.’

  Caroline smiled. ‘I suppose so. I’m all tuckered out, as the Australians say. I’ll just get a few things ready for tomorrow and then I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Thank you for being such a lovely mother. And wife.’

  Caroline dried the last of her tears, and gave him a faint grin. She faked a punch at his jaw. ‘Don’t let’s get all sentimental, for heaven’s sake. Life has to go on. But that Kate! I can’t forgive her.’

  ‘Neither can she.’

  Chapter 26

  ‘So, Gilbert, I wondered if you could possibly bring your Morris dancers that afternoon.’

  ‘May the first?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Kate moved the receiver to her left ear so she could check her diary. ‘It’s a Thursday. I know it’s short notice, but it suddenly came to me in the night what a highly suitable activity it was for May Day. How about it?’

  ‘The last time I was asked about my Morris dancers, there was a mix-up; two teams turned up and we had an argument. My team’s been a bit chary of Turnham Malpas ever since. They were very upset, you see. They’ll take some persuading, and of course most of them work.’

  ‘Look, it won’t happen here. I don’t even know another team to invite, I promise. Please – I want to make it a kind of traditional village afternoon. I’ve got a Punch and Judy man coming and a chap who has a kind of mobile children’s roundabout – you know, the old-fashioned kind. I’m desperate to make a success of it. I know that all it’s been before is a parade and the crowning and the Maypole dancing and then the tea, but this time I want to make it more worthwhile for people to come. Not to make money or anything – just to provide a thoroughly good afternoon.’

  Gilbert didn’t answer straight away. He guessed she wanted to make a success of the afternoon to atone for the trouble she’d caused. She’d come within an ace of being on the receiving end of the villagers’ wrath; how she’d escaped, he didn’t know. Possibly because she was making such a success of the school, and because Peter had backed her.

  ‘They’ll have already been up before dawn because we always dance at dawn on May Day – perhaps you didn’t know that. We go to Bickerby Rocks, the great hill on the other side of the by-pass. It’s all very symbolic. Look, leave it with me,’ he said, beginning to relent. ‘It’s short notice, but I’ll do my best. I’ll let you know by tomorrow night.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you very much indeed. I do appreciate your co-operation.’

  Kate replaced the receiver, put her diary back in its place in the top drawer of her desk and gazed out at the bins. She clenched her fist and struck the palm of her left hand. She’d make this May Day a success if she never did another thing. It was ironic that May Day was also an important festival for … No, she’d done with all that.

  She’d had her talk with Peter. The day after the disastrous evening with Caroline he’d called in when school was finished and everyone except Pat had gone, and they’d sat in her classroom – he on her chair and she perched on a desk with her feet resting on one of the children’s chairs. Peter hadn’t criticised her, found her guilty, or remonstrated with her. He’d simply sat there and let her ramble on, all the guilt coming out, the fears, the reasons. Her disgust at the turn Simone’s activities had taken, her lack of protest. ‘That’s what I feel so guilty about. If I’d protested louder and more vehemently, all this might have been avoided. It’s like Caroline said – by watching and knowing and doing nothing, I was implicated; I can’t escape that. But I have put it all behind me and I shan’t allow myself to become influenced again, never! I shall make this school so successful they’ll be coming from miles around to get their children’s names down before they’ve even been conceived!’

  Peter had laughed. ‘Good! That’s wonderful. You’ve so much to give – you’re a born teacher.’

  ‘Thank you for backing me – I don’t deserve such loyalty. I am indebted to you.’

  ‘You’re not indebted. My support was freely given. Anything else? I see Pat loitering by the door wanting to get in to clean.’

  Kate had slipped off the desk ready to leave and then turned back to say, ‘I’d like to have prayers in church again, if that’s all right with you, starting this Friday? I couldn’t before; my conscience wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘But of course. Delighted.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She’d gone straight from school into the church, the first time since she’d arrived in the village. The heavy door had needed all her strength to open it. Inside, the air was chill. She’d chosen a pew at the back just in front of the ancient Templeton tomb with the carved marble knight laid on the top, and sat looking round. There was a scitter-scatter in the aisle and there stood Sykes. His bright eyes looked eagerly at her, his short stumpy tail wagging.

  ‘Hi there, Sykes. What are you doing here?’ She could have sworn he’d grinned at her and then he’d leapt up onto the seat beside her and from there up onto the flat smooth surface at the end of the tomb at her shoulder. He’d curled up and settled down to sleep, his back against the knight’s ankle and right beside the dog standing by the knight’s feet. What a strange little dog, spending his time in church. Perhaps there was more to Sykes than one ever guessed.

  She’d relaxed in his companionship and begun looking around at the huge stained-glass window above the altar, the ancient banners rotting away on their poles high up above the pillars, the shining brass on the altar table and the flowers below the pulpit. It was all so beautiful, so peaceful and … The door had opened and Muriel had come in.

  ‘Good afternoon, Lady Templeton.’

  ‘Why, good afternoon, Kate. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got very late with my brass polishing this week. It’s my week, you see. Will I trouble you if I polish while you meditate?’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘That would be wonderful. I need to be quick because we’re going out to dinner tonight, and I always take ages to get ready. I do so like to do Ralph credit and I hate to be late. Of course I never am. Ralph tells me I couldn’t be late if I set out to be – it isn’t in my nature. I always worry I shall be though. Have done all my life. Silly, isn’t it? I’ll just get the cloths out. They’re all clean, as I gave them a good wash last week.’ Sorting through the wooden box which housed her polishing materials, Muriel had taken out a couple of well-washed cloths and a tin of brass polish and said, ‘Now, I usually start with the big cross.’

  ‘I’ll climb up and do that, shall I?’

  ‘How lovely! I always use one of the altar chairs to stand on. Spread this cloth over it first before you climb up, it seems irreverent to stand on the tapestry seat without a cover. Here’s your Brasso and this one’s the putting-on cloth. I’ll make a start on the lectern.’

  Together they had rubbed and polished and buffed until all the brasswork gleamed. When they’d finished they sat together in the front pew to admire their handiwork.

  ‘It all looks so beautiful,’ Muriel sighed. ‘You know, we have some wonderful old silver things for the altar on high days and holy days. They’re kept locked away in the safe when they’re not in use; they’re too valuable to be on display every day. But I’d miss cleaning the brass if the silver was out all the time. So satisfying, isn’t it, when it’s all shining?’

  ‘It is. It looks lovely.’

  ‘I’m always reminded of that penniless acrobat who in desperation went to seek shelter in a monastery. I can’t remember where I hear
d the story, maybe it was in a sermon? The monks fed him and gave him a bed and he stayed for a few days. When he knew it was time to move on he didn’t know how to thank God for their loving care. He’d no money to give, he couldn’t sing like they did, he hadn’t the first idea about how to pray, but he could turn cartwheels and things. So he did. Right in front of the altar. He gave the performance of his life. It was the only thing he could do, you see, to thank God. I’m sure God must have smiled on him, don’t you think? So, I keep hoping He smiles on me for doing the polishing, for I haven’t much more to offer than that. I haven’t skills like you have, for teaching and such. I’m not terribly clever, you see. Whereas you, you’ve so much to offer. There, I’ll be off.’ Muriel had stood up and looked down at her. ‘Thank you for your help, my dear. I’m glad you’ve got things sorted out. We all of us need to be at peace with ourselves.’ Muriel had kissed her cheek and left with her polishing box under her arm.

  Kate had felt very humbled. She’d sat a while longer after Muriel had left, pondering on how foolish she had been. She’d been within an ace of being killed in her desperation to rescue Cat, but Peter had grabbed her arm and forcibly dragged her to the door: the other women had been too intent on saving their own skins to bother about her and Cat – so much for the sisterhood. A bond wrought by fear wasn’t the strongest, after all. All that was left of all that business was Simone’s remains, laid to rest in the churchyard. She knew Peter had had a struggle with his conscience about that, but in the end he’d agreed. She’d no one but herself to blame for being taken in by Simone. She’d wept silent tears for Jacob, for Simone, and for Simone’s children.

  She’d been to see them. Though they’d cried when they saw her because she reminded them of their mother, she could see how much better they were all looking. She was sure Dickon had grown; he’d certainly put on weight. Florentina was wearing a delightful outfit and her hair was well-washed and brushed and tied in bunches with matching ribbons. She’d even smiled a little. Hansel and Valentine were bright-eyed and energetic as all little boys should be. But Opal! The biggest change was in her. She’d blossomed from a thin, listless sort of baby with enormous dark eyes in a pale luminous face, to being bouncy and giggly and quite adorable.

  Their foster-mother was a large, comfortable woman who obviously enjoyed having them. When Kate had thanked her, she’d laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, I’m loving it. Couldn’t believe my ears when they rang me and said “It’s an emergency, we’ve got five for you!” We’ve only just started fostering, you see. The kiddies have transformed our lives. In fact, my hubby and I have talked about asking to adopt them all. We’ve got this big house and garden going to waste. It’s hard work, mind, ’cos they’ve got problems, as you can imagine – tantrums and bad temper and the like, and the four older ones need training in more ways than one. Sometimes when I go to bed, I am so tired I feel like sending them all back! But I’m hoping good food, and a routine and love, most of all love, will solve everything. It’ll all come right, given time.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. I’ll keep in touch.’

  ‘I’d be glad if you would. You’ll be like family you see, for them.’

  ‘Of course.’

  And she would keep in touch. She owed them that; it was the least she could do. No, that wasn’t absolutely true. She wanted to see them again. She couldn’t take them on herself; the school meant too much to her for that. She’d be no good as a mother anyway. But she’d remember their birthdays and take them out.

  Well, she’d been given her chance to start afresh and that was what she would do. School was her first priority now. She still had the opportunity to develop it along the lines she wanted; that at least hadn’t been taken from her.

  Her reverie was brought to a halt by the sight of Brian creeping round to the recycling bin. He lifted the lid and began throwing handfuls of the paper up into the air, scattering it to the four winds, gleefully watching it spiralling away. She rapped briskly on the window. He looked up startled, grinned, and reluctantly began collecting what he could and putting it back into the bin.

  The bell rang for afternoon school. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

  After school Kate went into the Store. Another decision she’d taken that day was that she’d stop being a vegan; she’d be a vegetarian instead. There was a limit to the number of hair-shirts she could tolerate and being a vegan was, she’d realised, one too many.

  Jimbo was nowhere to be seen; only Bel Tutt and Linda were there.

  Linda called across, ‘Hello, Ms Pascoe. Nice day!’

  ‘It certainly is. How are you, Linda? Someone was saying you hadn’t been well.’

  Linda blushed. ‘Well, no, I haven’t but I’m much better at the moment.’

  ‘Stomach upset, they said.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Linda leaned as close to the post office grille as she could get and whispered, ‘Well, actually, it wasn’t really a stomach upset. I’m expecting.’

  ‘No! Are you pleased?’

  She blushed even redder. ‘Oh yes. And Alan’s thrilled to bits.’

  ‘I am glad. Congratulations!’

  ‘Thanks.’ She was about to launch herself on the story of her pregnancy when they heard Jimbo’s voice booming out from his office at the back.

  ‘Mother! This I do not believe!’ There was a silence and then they heard him say, ‘Very well. Of course I’m not saying I don’t want …’ The rest they missed as he had lowered his voice, then they heard the slam of the receiver and he stormed through into the Store. He’d left his boater somewhere, his bow tie was askew and as he marched thunderously up and down between the shelves muttering to himself, he constantly ran a hand over his bald head.

  Linda kept her head down and busied herself with her accounts. Bel Tutt, to escape his wrath, plodded away into the storeroom for further supplies for her shelf-filling. Jimbo almost ran Kate down by the ice-cream freezer.

  ‘So sorry.’ He went to raise his boater and found to his amazement it wasn’t on his head. ‘I do beg your pardon. Running the customers over isn’t quite the thing, is it? So sorry.’

  ‘Is there something the matter, Jimbo? You seem very agitated.’

  He seemed surprised. ‘Do I?’ He considered this for a moment. ‘Well, I am. Very. What Harriet is going to say I do not know. May God have mercy on my soul because I’m going to need it.’

  ‘Is it something I can help you with?’

  He gazed distractedly at her and then said, ‘Would that you could! Linda, I’m going home. I could be back in ten minutes, on the other hand if I’m not, you’d better order flowers; sprays preferably, I don’t like wreaths.’

  He rushed out of the Store and Kate watched him dash down Stocks Row. Suddenly his footsteps slowed and he stopped, undecided. He turned back, changed his mind, and walked slowly in the direction of home.

  Kate said, ‘I wonder what on earth is the matter.’

  ‘Well, he did say “Mother”, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘See – his mother’s a right you-know-what. “Old cow” comes to mind. Been to stay a few times, she has. Mrs Charter-Plackett can’t bear her. They have stand-up rows. Trouble brewing, by the sound of it.’

  Kate laughed. ‘Well, well, I’ve never seen Jimbo so upset. Didn’t think anything could ruffle him.’

  ‘No? You should have seen him when …’ But Linda had a customer who was in a hurry and wouldn’t wait. What was the matter with everyone today? They usually liked a gossip. It was always so much more interesting if the customers lingered a while. Sometimes it took her an hour to tell Alan all the news she’d garnered.

  Kate took home her luxury ice cream, and her cheese and her eggs and all the things she’d denied herself for so long, put them away in the fridge and the cupboards and then sat at the kitchen table and ate a whole tub of pecan and toffee ice cream and felt sick. But somehow, released.

  Chapter 27

  ‘Mummy?
Mummy?’

  Jimbo snapped. ‘Be quiet, Flick, please.’

  ‘Daddy!’

  ‘I mean it. Just go away and watch TV or something, but don’t bother Mummy right now.’ Jimbo stood looking out of the window. Harriet sat on the sofa. In reality, the actual distance between them was small but it felt like a million miles. When Jimbo had broken the news about his mother, Harriet had stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘I shan’t. Just tell her I shan’t.’

  ‘I know, but she’s already sold her own.’

  ‘I don’t care. As far as I am concerned, she can sleep in a cardboard box in a shop doorway in the Strand. She can be a bag lady. That’s right – a bag lady. Serve her right.’

  ‘Now, Harriet.’

  ‘And don’t look so reproachfully at me. You don’t want her either.’

  ‘I never said that!’

  ‘You didn’t need to. Well, I shan’t sell Mother’s house to her. Definitely not. My mother wouldn’t rest easy ever, with her in the house.’

  ‘That is ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Ring her – no, I’ll ring her. I’ll tell her she’s not buying my mother’s house. It is mine so I can choose who buys it.’

  ‘Now, Harriet.’

  ‘“Now, Harriet” nothing! Watch my lips: I shall say this only once. Your mother is not living in my mother’s house. I won’t sell it to her.’

  ‘Now, Harriet.’

  ‘If you say that once more …’

  ‘All right, all right. But she is an old lady and getting very frail.’

  ‘Frail – your mother? God, that’s a laugh! Frail – huh!’