Scandal in the Village

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘Why ever not? I would have preferred the children not to see it.’

  ‘So would I, sir.’

  ‘Then why ever not?’

  Willie shuffled his feet and then had to confess. ‘You see, Rector, I never go up there.’

  ‘Never go up there?’

  ‘I’ve got acrophobia?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Fear of heights.’

  ‘Are you telling me that you’ve been the verger all these years, how many is it now?’

  ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘And you’ve never been up there?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Who does then? Who sweeps and things?’

  ‘Jimmy. He does it for me.’

  Despite his anxiety Peter had to laugh. ‘Well, well.’

  Willie had to ask. ‘How’s the Doctor, is she all right? When you left her, you know?’

  Peter said, looking anywhere but at Willie, ‘Being brave, not wanting to worry me. They said to ring about four, but I think I’ll go rather than ring.’

  ‘That’ll be best. Yes. Now about this banner. I’ve knocked at Jimmy’s door but he’s not in.’

  ‘I’ll do it. Have you the key? How did Dicky get in?’

  Willie scowled his annoyance. ‘I don’t know, but when he gets back from work I’ll ask him. Taken a photo of it he has. I could strangle him.’

  ‘I’m not too pleased with him myself.’

  ‘You’d better take scissors or, I know, I’ve got my Stanley knife in my tool box in the boiler house, I’ll get that.’

  Peter began the long climb up the stone spiral staircase. It was narrow, and the steps too small for his large feet, it had been built for men much shorter than himself. Once he caught his knee on the rough stone walls, twice he caught an elbow. As he climbed he thought about the bells being rehung and them ringing out across the fields. That would be wonderful. He imagined the sounds of the bells calling people to worship again like they had done for hundreds of years. Thank you Mr Fitch. In fact thank you Mr Fitch for the central heating, for the newly repaired organ and now thank you Mr Fitch for the bells. Decent chap but he seemed to have been born without a heart, though he had been visibly moved by Sadie’s death. Death. For now he wouldn’t think about it. Not today. He climbed the rest of the stairs, pushed open the trap door and climbed out.

  He’d been up before on All Saint’s Day each year but then it was always so busy that there wasn’t time to contemplate the view. He unfastened the Stanley knife, secured the blade in place and went to cut the ropes holding the banner. Dicky had certainly done a good job. He leaned over to shout to Willie, and saw Georgie standing on the path talking to him. Even from such a height he could see she was agitated, and when she saw him looking down at her, her face flushed red.

  ‘OK, Willie! Here goes!’ Peter sliced through the ropes and the banner fell fluttering to the ground. He watched Willie begin cutting through the bottom ropes and then turned his attention to the view. From this side he could see the village. As he walked round the parapet he could see the Big House, then Bicker by Rocks, the fast moving traffic on the bypass and, he thought he could just catch a glimpse of the great spires of Culworth Abbey something like eight miles away. Between Turnham Malpas and Culworth were rolling fields, some still stubble, some already ploughed for next year. Next year. Would there be a next year for him? If Caroline … But then there’d be the children. He’d have to keep going for their sakes. Prayer. He’d go say prayers.

  By the time he got to the bottom of the tower Georgie had gone and Willie was still struggling to fold up the banner. ‘Too blowy, sir, can’t keep control of it.’

  Between them they managed to roll it up and store it in the boiler house.

  ‘Tell Dicky I want to see him. Not today, I’ve other things on my mind but I’ll see him tomorrow some time. Georgie, what did she think?’

  ‘Half embarrassed, half delighted. He’d rung her from work and told her to come out to have a look. He’s a fool is Dicky.’

  ‘More than a fool. Just going to say prayers. Here’s the tower key.’

  As Peter was leaving the church after his prayers he met the Duchess coming in with an armful of flowers.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Charter-Plackett! Lovely flowers.’

  ‘I’m taking a turn at doing the altar flowers with Sheila Bissett being laid up! I would normally have done them Saturday morning but I’m going out with Harriet and the children so I thought I’d do them today. Aren’t they lovely? Mr Fitch gave me them. Such a kind man.’

  ‘Very generous.’

  ‘He is. I can’t let this chance go by, seeing as we’re on our own. Will you allow me to say how pleased I am?’

  ‘How pleased you are?’

  ‘Yes, about the, well I know it’s a secret, but about the baby. I saw Caroline in the hospital in the antenatal clinic. I suspected as much when she fainted in church, but when I saw her there I knew. You must be thrilled and I expect she is too.’ She was so delighted with herself she didn’t notice the change in Peter’s expression.

  ‘It’s you then who spread this rumour?’

  The Duchess was about to exonerate herself from being a rumour-monger when something in his tone of voice pulled her up short.

  ‘Rumour?’

  ‘Yes. In truth she’s having an operation today. I took her to the hospital this morning. For cancer. Ovarian cancer.’

  The Duchess was left standing completely devoid of speech. She watched Peter walk down the path, and disappear from sight as he passed Willie’s cottage. The blood hammered in her head and she couldn’t see properly. Whatever had she done? That poor man. He wouldn’t have said that just to upset her would he? Not something as serious as … cancer? She knew all about the fear that word instilled in one’s soul. She’d known all about that, oh yes. But a young woman Caroline’s age and with children to bring up. It didn’t bear thinking about and here she’d been telling everyone … She’d never live it down. Fifty years Jimbo had said. It might as well be one hundred and fifty. Well, she hadn’t meant to be malicious. Not at all. She was only going on the fects. Facts? People fainted for all sorts of reasons, as had Caroline. Obviously she had been seeing a friend in the antenatal department. It took her well over an hour to arrange the flowers. She’d so looked forward to doing it and now she couldn’t make them look good for love nor money. Flowers! She never wanted to see another flower as long as she lived. Lived. What if Caroline … She’d better have a quick word of prayer before she left. In fact she’d better be on her knees all day. Contrite heart. That was what she’d better have. A contrite heart.

  Unable to wait any longer and wanting to be out of the house before the children came home from school and begged to go with him, Peter left the rectory at half past two. He drove steadily because he knew his mind was elsewhere. Past the dreaded crossroads where he’d had that strange encounter With the tractor, and on into Culworth. It was always difficult to find a space in the hospital car park at any time of day, but he could take advantage of the fact he was an official hospital padre and he parked in the space specially reserved for them.

  Being familiar with the hospital layout he was in the ward in no time at all. The nurses greeted him and assured him things were going fine, she was recovering nicely and yes of course he could see her.

  She was laid flat on her back, fastened to a drip and what seemed to him a multiplicity of tubes and wires.

  ‘Caroline! Darling! It’s Peter.’

  Her eyelids fluttered and then opened, she looked vaguely at him and a smile started on her mouth but she slid back into sleep before it had happened. He found a chair, put it beside the bed, sat down and took hold of her hand.

  Helpless. Totally vulnerable, his Caroline was right now. Always so organised and energetic. So loving and kind and considerate. He didn’t deserve her. This business of having to put others before his own, it was asking too much of anyone. A nurse came in to do routine checks.


  ‘Good afternoon, Reverend. You’re not to worry, you know, she’s doing fine.’ She patted Caroline’s cheek and said, ‘Dr Harris! Hello!’ Caroline stirred and opened her eyes. ‘All right?’ There was no answer, Caroline was sleeping again.

  ‘Everything seems OK. She won’t be talking for a while yet. Why don’t you go for a cup of tea or something? Another hour and she’ll be coming round properly.’

  ‘I do have another patient to see. I might do that and then come back.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  But he wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he came back. He couldn’t see her for the hospital staff filling the room.

  ‘Stand away!’ They all stepped back from whatever they were doing and he had a clear view of Caroline’s body jerking with the electric shock. The monitor was displaying a straight line, no heartbeat at all. A nurse was counting and rhythmically pressing her hands on Caroline’s chest and they were giving her oxygen and everything fell into a sort of chaotic madness and all Peter could do was call out ‘Caroline? Caroline?’

  Someone snapped ‘Get him out!’

  ‘Come along, sir, leave her to us.’ He felt hands steering him towards the door. He didn’t want to go out. His place was beside her. Peter turned to go back in. ‘Better leave her to us. We’re doing all we can.’ He felt hands pushing him away again. The sounds of instructions, of haste, of a kind of controlled desperate energy came through the door. She couldn’t be left alone not right now. He went back in. They were too busy to notice him. The line on the monitor was straight.

  ‘Caroline! Caroline!’ He called in his loudest voice. The sound ricocheted back off the walls, deafening in its intensity in that small room. There was a blip on the screen, and another and another, then the line went straight again and then restarted irregularly, and suddenly the blips were regular and the razor sharp alertness in the room reduced and with it the intensity of the last few minutes. There was an audible sigh of relief.

  ‘Right. Thanks everyone, she’s back.’ The line on the screen had a reassuring steadiness about its blips. The doctor stood beside the bed, cautious, alert, checking the controls, watching her breathing, observing her colour.

  The staff began putting away the equipment disappearing to other duties leaving Peter with Caroline and the doctor. He became aware of Peter standing the other side of the bed ashen and trembling and saying ‘I’m not leaving. I’m staying here. No one is making me leave. Do you understand? I won’t be turned out. I’m staying with her.’

  ‘Of course. All night if you wish. My word, she gave us a few anxious moments there. Can’t do to lose a good doctor can we?’

  Peter’s voice was shaky. ‘Nor a good wife, come to that.’

  ‘No, indeed. Definitely not. I’m so sorry. A doctor will be in and out and a nurse will be in very frequently to check her but should you have any anxiety just ring. We’ll need to find out what caused that little hiccough, if we can.’

  ‘Little hiccough! She died!’

  The blips continued steadily.

  ‘Her heart stopped momentarily.’

  ‘Well then, she died. Don’t try to pacify me with euphemisms, I’m not for pacifying. In any case it was longer than a moment.’

  ‘I’m sorry, very sorry.’

  The blips kept going on, beating away.

  ‘What caused it?’

  ‘Bad reaction to the anaesthetic possibly. We’ll have to find out. Most unexpected. Anyway, things have settled down now. If you need anything you’ve only to ask. She should be making good progress from now on.’

  Less ashen than he was and with the trembling under control Peter thanked him. He pulled forward his chair, which had been pushed out of the way in the emergency, and sat down again beside her. Her hand he took in his own and bent his head to kiss it. He felt a very slight squeeze of her fingers and he thought he saw a tiny almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

  Then his reaction began. Sweat rolled down his face as though he’d been running a marathon in a scorching midday sun. His knees went to jelly and his hands were shaking so violently he had to release Caroline’s for fear of upsetting her. A nurse came in to check the monitor, but didn’t speak. Peter couldn’t have answered her if she had; his throat had closed up and his teeth were clamped tightly together. The nurse noted his ashen complexion and the sweat running down his face.

  ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Mr Harris. Look.’ She pointed to the blips. ‘No need to worry. Not now.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’ll go put the kettle on, make you a cup of tea.’

  The tea was in his shaking hands almost as she spoke. Time, somehow, had done a head over heels. He tried to get the cup to his mouth. But he shook so much it was spilling everywhere. The nurse took it from him and held it to his mouth herself. He was icy cold. The tea was burning hot.

  ‘Go on, drink some more, it’ll do you good.’

  Slowly the shaking stopped and he took charge of the cup himself, with one eye on the screen he finished the tea right to the bottom of the cup where he could see grains of sugar undissolved.

  The nurse held out her hand to take his cup. ‘Another one?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’m so thirsty.’

  ‘You’ve had a bit of a shock, that’s why.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Well, more than a bit of a shock. Won’t be a minute.’

  Briefly he went to the telephone to speak to Sylvia and explain he wouldn’t be coming home just yet, possibly not until the early hours and he would be glad if she and Willie could stay and could he speak to the children and yes, Caroline was doing fine and thank you for everything. He reassured the children, yes, Mummy is doing very well. Yes, he was staying with her for a while and be good for Sylvia. Yes, he’d be home in the morning. Night, night, Beth. Night, night, Alex. Yes, he’d give Mummy a great big kiss. Night, night, sleep tight. God bless you both.

  Chapter 10

  If he could, Jimbo avoided working in the Store on Saturdays but this Saturday it was unavoidable. Added to which Harriet was upset about Caroline, his mother was distraught at what she’d done and generally he sensed a black cloud over his life he could well have done without.

  Life must go on though, he’d lined the morning papers up neatly on their shelf by the till, he’d tackled the meat counter, the vegetables were looking their sprightly best, the stationery racks were filled to bursting and it was October and Christmas would be upon him before he knew where he was. Last night had been a good night. If there was one thing he liked it was a good party and that twenty-first last night had been such good fun. He remembered he must ring Pat Jones and tell her how pleased he was with her efforts. People were a continuous surprise to Jimbo, who’d have thought Pat had such potential. Well, that was one thing he could give himself a pat on the back for, finding her potential and putting it to work to his advantage, and hers come to think of it.

  The bell jingled and in came Peter. To Jimbo’s eyes he looked terrible. Gaunt, exhausted, shredded with anxiety.

  ‘Good morning, Peter. Well, what’s the news?’

  ‘When I left about three this morning she was beginning to shape up nicely. I’ve rung just now and she’s continuing to improve, so I’m taking the children to see her this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  ‘I have. Just got some shopping to do, I want to take something in for her, and Sylvia wants a few things too. I’ll just take a look round.’

  ‘Feel free. I’d be grateful if you’d take her some flowers from Harriet and me. With our love.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you very much, she’ll like that.’ Peter took a wire basket and began to do his shopping. He’d just picked up the milk and a box of eggs when the doorbell rang, and in came Dicky. He saw Peter’s red-blond hair over the top of the shelves and began to beat a quick retreat, but Peter straightening up saw him as he was making his escape. ‘Dicky! I need a word!’

  Reluctantly
Dicky turned back and shut the door.

  ‘Now look, Peter, it was a harmless …’

  ‘See here, your personal life is your affair, but when it intrudes on the church then it becomes mine. What were you thinking of?’

  Dicky looked down at his shoes, put his hands in his pockets and then looking up at Peter said, ‘To be honest I don’t know. I can’t help myself. It’s out of my control.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘You know this love business. Cupid strikes and everything goes up like a rocket.’

  ‘I know all about this love business, but you’re carrying it too far. I mean, a banner on the church, and the children coming for a service. Whatever they must have thought I don’t know. And Bel. What about her?’

  ‘She’s mad as heck, but I can’t stop it. I’m on a roller-coaster and where it leads I have to go.’

  ‘But Dicky, think of Georgie …’

  ‘Can’t stop. She’s gorgeous Georgie as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘She is very attractive I know …’

  ‘Isn’t she?’ Dicky’s face lit up. ‘Very, very attractive. It’s the combination of that blonde hair and those petite features … and she’s just the right size for me! I can’t think why I haven’t realised it before now. Seen her day in day out when I’ve been in for a drink and then one day I looked at her and wham! bang! there I was head over heels. It was as if I’d never seen her before that day. I felt as though I’d been pole axed. She’s the yeast in my bread, the sugar in my tea, the icing on my cake, the fizz in my drinks, the cream in my coffee, the sherry in my trifle, the …’

  ‘Dicky! Please think of your position. You’re the Scout leader. You’ve an example to set.’

  Dicky’s face fell. ‘I know. I’ve been a Scout since I was eight. In my blood as it were and if I had to give it up well ... it doesn’t bear thinking about. But … what can you do when love takes you by the throat? You know the feeling?’

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  ‘We’re twin souls then, you and me. I’ve just met Willie, he told me about Dr Harris, how’s things this morning with her?’