Village Gossip

by Shaw, Rebecca

  She sat patiently waiting for him to wake.

  It was their misfortune that Sheila Bissett had decided she needed to get healthier and had insisted on accompanying Ron when he took little Pompom out for his constitutional.

  ‘You know, Sheila, Pompom isn’t as young as he was. He can’t go far.’

  ‘Right into the wood and back isn’t far, Ron. Do him good. I’m enjoying marching along. Hurry up, Pompom. There’s a good boy.’

  Ron sighed.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely this morning? So warm but so cool under the trees. Just the right place to be for a walk.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘It’s a pity more people don’t get out and about. It does you good, blows the cobwebs away. We have this lovely field and woods and you hardly ever see anyone using it. You could be murdered in here and no one would know. It’s so secluded. It’s more friendly though than Sykes Wood, don’t you think? That always seems so gloomy. This one at least gets the sunlight.’

  ‘It does.’

  Sheila stepped along ahead of Ron because the footpath had narrowed, so it was she who came upon Hugo and Caroline first. By now they were both asleep. Caroline with her head resting against the trunk of the tree and one hand on Hugo’s shoulder. Hugo lay just where he’d fallen asleep. Sheila was aghast. She turned round to face Ron and gesticulated to him to pick up Pompom. She saw him about to ask why, so she placed a finger against her lips and urged him to be silent.

  The two of them crept past as softly as they could. Pompom snuffling to get down and Ron gripping his jaws tight shut to stop him yapping. They scurried down the path fearing to speak in case they woke the sleeping couple up.

  When Sheila thought she was safely out of hearing she said in a loud stage whisper, ‘Well, really. Did you ever? I can’t believe it. What can they be thinking of?’

  ‘Best thing we can do is say nothing. Pretend we didn’t see them.’

  ‘But we did and it’s not right. It most definitely isn’t. I think Peter ought to know.’

  ‘You must promise me not to say a word.’

  Sheila hurried along beside him, her mind boggling at what she’d seen. Mind you, he was gorgeous. She could understand … If she was younger she could quite fancy him herself.

  ‘Ron, how are we going to get home? We can’t walk past again, they might have woken up. You never know what might be going on.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, as if.’

  ‘They’re only human. How are we going to get home, then?’

  ‘We’ll turn left off the path and go out onto Shepherds Hill and go home that way.’

  ‘Oh right, of course. I can’t believe it. Fast asleep in a wood. Like something out of a film. They looked so happy. So romantic!’ They looked like people who are in love do, so … well, beautiful. To tell the truth if she really faced up to it she felt quite envious. She and Ron had never fallen asleep in a wood, never been so much at peace with one another. There came a feeling of regret to Sheila, a terrible sense of having missed out on life.

  Ron grumbled, ‘I can’t see the village calling it that, can you?’

  ‘Romantic? No. What is she thinking of? I blame her for encouraging him. It’s disgusting. It really is.’

  ‘Mum’s the word. Remember!’

  But Sheila, already planning whom to tell first, never heard his warning.

  Chapter 8

  Peter came back home around half past four. Instead of going into the kitchen and regaling Caroline with the details of his day he went straight to his study. The children called out to him but he took no notice of them.

  Beth, full of sympathy for him, said, ‘I’ll go see to him Mummy, I expect he’s had a bad day.’

  ‘No don’t, darling. Sometimes Daddy needs to be alone. Quiet, you know. Because he’s from the Church, people tell him the most heart rending stories about their lives and he gets upset. He wishes he had a magic wand and could put it all right again for them. In a bit we’ll go and dig him out.’

  Alex said, ‘I’m not going to be a Rector. I’m going to make lots and lots of money and buy you and Daddy a lovely house with a big garden miles and miles away from here, and then he won’t have to listen to all these nasty stories.’

  ‘That’s extremely kind of you and I’m sure we’d both appreciate it. For the moment, though, that’s what he does and he wouldn’t want to be doing anything other.’

  Beth declared, ‘I do love my daddy. He could fight anybody, couldn’t he? He’s the biggest man in all the world.’

  ‘He’s not.’ Alex stuck his tongue out at her.

  ‘He is.’

  Beginning to lose her patience, Caroline said, ‘Get on with your jigsaws, please, there’s good children. He is the best Daddy in all the world, he may not be the biggest but he is the best.’

  But they didn’t need to dig him out because he eventually came into the kitchen and stood watching the twins doing their jigsaws.

  Beth shouted excitedly, ‘Daddy! Look! I’ve nearly finished!’

  Caroline, busy stirring a pan at the cooker, said, ‘Hello, Peter. Had a bad day? Didn’t it go well?’ He was slow to answer, so she turned round to look at him. Instead of smiling at her, his eyes avoided her face and he quietly said, ‘Bad day! I don’t think it could have been worse.’

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’

  Then he did look at her, and a dreadful sinking feeling began in her throat and found its way right to the pit of her stomach. Surely not. Please God, surely not. His unflinching gaze unnerved Caroline, and she dreaded what he would say next.

  ‘You ask me?’

  Alex shouted. ‘Finished! I’m first. I’m first.’

  ‘You’re not, I am. Aren’t I, Mummy? I finished just before Alex, didn’t I? But I didn’t shout.’

  In a very controlled voice, with her eyes on Peter, Caroline said, ‘I am not asking you, I am telling you to go play in the garden for a while. Chop. Chop. Quick now.’

  Beth looked at her father and then at her mother and told Alex to go outside quickly.

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘You do. Come on.’

  Alex looked at his mother and decided he would do as he was told. As the back door closed behind them. Caroline asked, ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘1 can hardly bear to tell you what the latest gossip is that’s going round the village. It doesn’t seem possible, but somewhere there must be a small element of truth in it.’

  ‘You haven’t been in the village today, so what can you possibly have heard?’

  ‘Please, Caroline, don’t prevaricate, we must have the truth between us at all costs. I can’t believe it. In fact, I will not believe it because it cannot have happened as I have heard it, but I do need you to give me an explanation.’

  Caroline, he noticed, was beginning to tremble. ‘It’s about Hugo and I, isn’t it?’

  Peter left one of those cold silences which his parishioners, frequently to their cost, knew all about. He never took his eyes from her face.

  Her voice came out jerkily and barely audible. ‘I didn’t intend going to bed tonight without telling you.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, believe me.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I met him as I came out of school. He was feeling unwell, he’s not able to sleep at night, his nerves and such. So I took pity on him and agreed to walk with him. We went down the footpath and on to the spare land and then into the wood. He got tired, so we sat down under a tree and I leant against it and he laid down, he asked me to tell him about the children, and while I was doing so, he fell asleep. And then so did I.’

  Peter almost snarled his reply. ‘What about the children?’

  ‘How old they were, what they got up to.’

  ‘I see. Thank you.’

  Aggrieved at the defensive situation she found herself in Caroline asked, ‘Who the blazes saw us? No one went past that I know of.’

  ‘Well, someone did.’

 
In a shaky voice Caroline asked him if he knew who’d seen her.

  ‘Sheila Bissett.’

  Caroline threw her arms up in despair. ‘I might have known. I just might have known. It would have to be dear old Sheila, wouldn’t it.’

  ‘It scarcely matters who saw you. You were seen.’

  ‘But I’ve told you the truth, what was the version you heard?’

  He turned to leave. ‘It’s not repeatable. Obviously it was perhaps something like fourth hand or even fifth hand by the time it reached my ears. By then it had been embroidered beyond recognition. I don’t mind telling you the person who told it to me quite relished the idea. They thought I ought to know what was “going on”. But nothing on earth will make me repeat to you what I was told. Nothing.’

  ‘That blasted woman! Damn and blast her.’

  ‘Had you not gone with him, had you not fallen asleep, then you wouldn’t be blasting her to kingdom come right now.’

  ‘At least I should know what they’re all saying about me.’

  ‘Not from me you won’t. There’s a pan burning.’

  Under her breath Caroline said, ‘Damn and blast.’

  ‘However, thank you for telling me the truth.’

  ‘It’s this Rector’s wife bit, isn’t it?’ She emptied the blackened remains of the stewed apples down the waste disposal and viciously switched it on.

  Speaking loudly over the noise, Peter said, ‘No, at the moment it’s what is between husband and wife. That’s what it’s about. What the parish thinks will be next on the agenda.’

  Caroline threw the pan in the sink, turned the cold tap on so hard that the water flung itself into the pan and back out again all down the front of her dress. In desperation, Caroline fled.

  She got to the rehearsal early, coinciding with the arrival of Sylvia who was anxious to be there in good time to get her kettles boiling in readiness for the calls for coffee she knew would arise as soon as everyone came.

  ‘Hello, Dr Harris. You’re early.’

  ‘Hi, Sylvia. Yes, well I’ve got some lines to run through. I used to be able to remember lines so easily, but not now. Hugo wanted us word perfect tonight.’ As she said his name her cheeks flushed at the thought that Sylvia might well have heard the story going round the village, and she didn’t want to lose Sylvia’s good opinion of her. Although Peter believed every word she had said – she just knew he did because he was like that – she still felt his disapproval very severely. She knew he wouldn’t ask Sheila Bissett not to repeat the story. That was pointless. The whole village would know by now, and Caroline certainly wasn’t going to remonstrate with her. She wondered if Sylvia knew about the rumours and particularly whether she knew what Sheila Bissett had said was going on. She’d grasp the nettle, like her mother always said she should.

  Following Sylvia into the kitchen, Caroline leant against the worktop, and asked her.

  Sylvia took a moment to fill the first kettle and set it on the hob. As the gas flared into action she said, ‘Oh, I’ve heard right enough. The Store was absolutely agog with the tale when I went in there this afternoon. Linda was really stirring it with a big spoon, and she had some very eager listeners.’ She faced Caroline. ‘Does the Rector know?’

  ‘He does. But he’s had the truth from me, not a load of lies and suppostions.’

  ‘I’m glad they were lies. I’m very glad they were lies.’ Looking sadly at her, Sylvia continued with, ‘Just such a pity that people round about here are so happy to believe lies. That’s where the damage is done.’

  ‘What are they saying? Will you tell me?’

  ‘I thought the Rector knew.’

  ‘He does, but he won’t tell me. Says he can’t.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, he must be very hurt.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘They say … you were with Hugo … you know … you know, making love on the grass in the wood.’ She turned away, her face red with the embarrassment of not wanting to put it into words, but knowing she must. ‘There, you know now.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  ‘You had scarcely a stitch on, apparently.’

  ‘Oh God! I could kill that woman. I could, so help me I could kill her.’

  ‘Not entirely her fault, I expect it snowballed after she told it. That’s what happens, you know.’

  They heard the outer door open and voices in the main hall. It was most of the cast, including Hugo, all arriving at the same moment.

  They heard his resonant voice calling out, ‘Coffee, Sylvia, I’m dying for a cup.’

  ‘Very well, Hugo, won’t be two ticks.’ Sylvia remarked quietly to Caroline, ‘Go join the others and brazen it out.’

  ‘Right.’ She squared her shoulders and marched in, focusing her gaze on Harriet and heading straight for her.

  Harriet greeted her with a pursed mouth and raised eyebrows.

  Before they had exchanged a word Hugo came up and, putting his arm round her waist, planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘How’s my leading lady tonight? In full voice, I hope. We’re doing a straight run through act one, OK? Know your lines?’

  Caroline extricated herself from his grasp. ‘Almost.’

  ‘Almost? Almost, she says, with that enchanting smile on her face. She I shall forgive, but anyone else who doesn’t know their lines will be hung drawn and quartered. Liz?’ She nodded. ‘Neville?’ He nodded. Hugo asked each in turn and they gave him an affirmative.

  ‘Thank God! Private tuition for you, Caroline my love, if you’re not word perfect tonight! Right! Beginners please. My coffee! You’re an angel.’ Sylvia got an arm around her shoulders and a kiss for her effort. She thanked him nicely but shrugged him away.

  ‘Act one, scene one. Pronto. Pronto. Barry! Less noise with the scenery, please. Props! Some chairs to represent the sofa. Liz, are you ready? Rhett? Michelle? Good, good. Wagons roll. Hush, everyone.’

  Rhett strolled on through the non existent door to the sitting room. He stood gazing out of the yet to be constructed french windows at what would be a back drop showing a lawn and well-tended gardens. He turned away and pretended to fiddle with the knobs of a radiogram.

  ‘Stop! Rhett! You look as though you are walking about on the platform of a Church Hall.’

  Surprised, Rhett replied, ‘Well, I am, aren’t I?’

  Head in hands, Hugo moaned. ‘Oh God! Oh God! Give me strength! No, you’re not! You’re in a drawing room, an elegant drawing room and you’re the young man of the house thinking about going up to Oxford this autumn. You have the assurance – be it youthful, but you have it – that particular assurance peculiar to your class. You are monied!’

  ‘Wish to God I was!’

  ‘There you are, you see? You’re still Rhett Wright, when you should be at this moment Julian Latimer with the world your oyster. Now come in again, and try harder.’

  Harriet, standing close to Caroline, muttered, ‘Well? I did warn you.’

  ‘You’ve heard.’

  ‘Couldn’t help it. The world and his wife know, believe me. Jimbo’s had the story ten times over today. Each time it got more lurid.’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘That’s not what I heard.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t.’

  ‘What does Peter think?’

  ‘He knows it’s all lies.’

  ‘Next you’ll be saying, “We’re just good friends.”’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Caroline. You’re fooling yourself and I’ve always admired your commonsense.’

  ‘I haven’t lost it.’

  ‘You have. Once the play is over he will leave here and we shan’t see him for years.’

  Caroline watched Rhett and Michelle together on stage while she prepared her answer. ‘That won’t bother me.’

  ‘Three months from now someone might, just might mention Turnham Malpas to him and he’ll say, “Turnham what? Where’s that?”’

  ‘Think so?’

  ‘Know so. You’re
on.’

  ‘Oh, I am. Sorry, Hugo.’ Caroline fled into the wings and stepped briskly on stage. ‘“Sorry, darlings, I’ve got to go out; Celia is having a lunch to introduce the new man in her life to everyone, Leonard someone or other. I expect he’ll be devastatingly boring, her men usually are, and I wish I didn’t have to go, but I must. I promised. Doris will get you lunch if you need it. Have you anything planned for today?”

  She got through the evening needing only a few prompts. But it was hard going. The cold, uptight touch of Neville playing her husband left her unmoved. He was well cast because she always found him cold and uptight in real life. But each time Hugo touched her, declared his love for her, tried to seduce her, she wished it was for real. Harriet was right, she’d abandoned commonsense for this ridiculous idiocy and she couldn’t put a stop to it.

  By the time they reached the last line of the first act and Hugo had praised them to the skies for their efforts she was completely drained and in need of a stiff drink.

  Hugo, in bouyant mood, called out, ‘Right, everybody. You’ve done an excellent night’s work and now we’ll all retire to the Royal Oak and the drinks are on me.’

  A cheer went up and they collected their belongings and rushed out in a frenzy of post-rehearsal chatter. Caroline made sure she walked alongside Harriet and Liz.

  The pub was busy so they stood at the bar until a table became free. Caroline drained her gin and tonic as fast as she decently could and ordered another. Dicky served her and gave her a wink, which she ignored. As she paid him, a hand came out and pushed her money away. It was Hugo’s. She could have recognised that elegant hand with its long tapering fingers and neatly clipped nails anywhere on earth.

  ‘This is on me. Put your money away.’

  ‘You can’t pay for drinks for everyone all night.’

  ‘I don’t intend to, but I shall and will pay for yours. Here we are, Dicky. How’s life?’

  ‘Fair to middling, thanks.’

  ‘Snap! Same for me. Fair to middling. Except I’m hoping this fair lady here will alter all that.’

  Dicky grinned. ‘You couldn’t have made a better choice.’

  Caroline spotted a table about to become free. ‘Oh look, I’m going to sit over there.’ Without waiting to see if he followed she went across, settling herself on a chair. In a trice Hugo was sitting beside her. He raised his glass to her and sipped from it. Looking at her over the rim, his eyes sparkled. ‘Happy?’