Dottie could almost hear trumpets sounding as Vera set off. She’d put on her pink suit from Brenda’s wedding and carried with her her high-heeled shoes in a plastic carrier bag, having decided that her sandals would serve her better until she got within shouting distance of the Big House. She planned to change into them and leave her shopping bag under a bush while she went inside. ‘Good luck, Vera. You’ll win through.’
Vera went in through the main door. It had occurred to her that she ought to use the trade entrance but decided against it. She was here on business and she’d be at a disadvantage if she didn’t use the main door.
Overawed by the dignity and beauty of the entrance hall, she hesitated, wondering where to go. A voice said, ‘Good afternoon. Can I help you?’
It was a smart young thing behind a reception desk who had spoken.
‘Mr Fitch. I want to see Mr Fitch.’
‘Your name is …?’
‘Vera Wright. Is he in?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fitch is in the States. He won’t be back for a while. Can I help? Or the estate manager, Mr Mayer.’
Relieved at hearing a name she knew Vera said yes, she’d see Mr Mayer.
‘Sit down and I’ll page him.’
Neither of them had to wonder if he was coming because long before he hove into sight they heard his heavy breathing and felt the vibration of every step he took.
Vera hadn’t seen Jeremy Mayer for some time and was amazed at how much fetter he had become. Even worse, his breathing was so loud. He reminded her of an old bulldog who used to come to visit one of the patients at the nursing home.
He grunted and panted and then said breathlessly, ‘Vera! Come into my office.’
She followed him into an office filled by a large desk, several filing cabinets, book shelves and Jeremy. He lowered himself into his chair.
‘I know what you’ve come to see me about.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, and I’m sorry but we shall be prosecuting. Mr Fitch is very serious indeed when it comes to staff stealing property.’
‘But it was just lying about, and Mr Fitch had said he wanted it clearing away. No one had bothered with it all for years. It just doesn’t seem fair.’
‘Bothered with it or not it was, er, is estate property and is not to be removed.’
‘If we return it all and pay for the crazy paving would that be all right? It wasn’t done on purpose, kind of.’
‘It didn’t get into your garden all by itself, did it? When Mr Fitch finds out …’
‘That’s what I want to know, who was it split on us?’
Jeremy shut up like a clam. He fiddled with a pen, straightened papers which were lying haphazardly about his desk, coughed and said, ‘I’m not at liberty to … Suffice to say I received information upon which I have acted on Mr Fitch’s behalf.’
‘Sounds like the bloody Gestapo to me. Does he have a torture chamber?’
Jeremy allowed himself half a smile. ‘No, but we do have a very efficient information system.’
‘Look. Could you speak on my behalf? Ask him to let us off. You know, not go to court. It wasn’t done with any intent, not really. Just …’
‘The matter is in the hands of the police and that’s that. I am acting under Mr Fitch’s explicit instructions. Now, I’m a very busy man, if you’ll excuse me.’ He coughed and slipped a lozenge into his mouth.
‘From what I hear that’s just about all you do do, act under his instructions. A yes man, that’s what you are. A yes man. He’s got you right where he wants yer. Same as yer wife has yer, right where she wants yer.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘Except she doesn’t want yer.’
Jeremy struggled to his feet. ‘Madam, if you please.’
‘We’ll pay him for the crazy paving. He’s getting everything back, everything. So if he’s no worse off, do you think I might persuade …’
‘I do not, Vera. It’s more than my job’s worth to cancel the charges.’
The word ‘job’ jolted Vera. ‘And our Rhett. What about his job?’
‘He finishes today.’
‘You wouldn’t do that to him! He was only trying to cheer me up. That’s all. Just cheer me up. A good turn, that’s all. And this is his reward. He’ll be heartbroken.’
‘He shouldn’t have stolen, should he?’
‘He didn’t, he just kind of did a long term borrow.’
‘There’s nothing more to be said.’ Jeremy nodded in the direction of the door. ‘Let yourself out.’
‘Well, if you want to lose the best under gardener you’ve had in years then that’s up to you. He’s got his diploma, so I don’t suppose he’ll be out of a job for long.’
‘No one will employ him if he has a criminal record.’
‘Criminal record! You’re prosecuting him as well?’
‘Of course. You for receiving stolen goods and him for stealing. The estate has been driven into taking a stance on this. We lose thousands with all this pinching here and there, and it’s got to stop.’
‘Well, all I can say is damn your eyes. All this over a few stingy bits of crazy paving and he’s a multi millionaire. We’ll be ruined, but he’ll go from strength to strength. It damned well isn’t fair.’
Vera stormed out of Jeremy’s office, sped down the drive as fast as she could and only remembered that night when she went to bed that her flat shoes were still under the bush at the Big House. Well, she thought, the dratted, dreary, boring things can stay there till they rot. Just like I’m going to rot.
The full implications of the situation didn’t strike home until Vera went to the Royal Oak the following night. To her delight, Willie, Sylvia and Jimmy were at her favourite table and also Pat Jones, Duckett that was, waiting for her Barry to join her after the rehearsal.
‘Vera!’ Sylvia patted the seat beside her. ‘Come and sit next to me. Willie, get Vera a drink.’
In obedience to Sylvia’s request Willie stood up. ‘What will yer have?’
‘Arsenic?’
‘Come on, it won’t come to that.’
‘Won’t it? It’s a police job yer know. In court. I could go to prison.’
Pat looked at her and said accusingly, ‘It’s all your Rhett’s fault.’
Vera nodded. ‘All he wanted to do was cheer me up ’cos I ’adn’t got the job as wardrobe mistress. That Mrs Jones got there before me, as yer know. I know I was rude to her, but she cut me right out and I longed to do it.’ A faraway look came in her eyes and Sylvia squeezed her hand. ‘Poor lad, he’s lost his job, yer know. Big fat Jeremy says even though he’s got a diploma, with a criminal record he’ll never get another job.’
Willie had come back with her drink and heard the last few words. As he put it down and pocketed his change he said, ‘Yer mean he’s being prosecuted as well?’
Vera nodded. ‘Me for receiving and ’im for stealing. Just a few old pots and a rusty table and chairs. It’s not fair. He worked hours on ’em cleaning the rust off. So now old Fitch gets ’em back like new.’ She took a sip of her lager and sat shaking her head in desperation.
Pat said angrily, ‘And what about me?’
‘What about you, you’re not involved.’
‘No, but my Dad is.’
‘So?’
‘When old Fitch gets back from the States Jeremy says they’re going to decide whether or not Dad loses his job, too. After all, the gardens are his sole responsibility.’
‘He’d never sack your dad! Greenwood Stubbs sacked! Never!’
‘Don’t you be too sure. We’re shaking in our shoes, believe me.’
‘But where would he be without him? The gardens! The glasshouses! He’d never find another to replace him, not like your dad.’
‘Old Fitch is in no mood for being sentimental, he’s on the warpath and we’re being used as an example. They steal like mad from the estate. Fencing posts, top soil, tools, wood, paint, electric drills, you name it. They all dunk old Fitch is fair game. He knows
it and he’s out to stop it. So now he’s got actual evidence of stealing and the balloon’s going up.’
Slowly Vera thought through what Pat had said. ‘It’d just be a fine, wouldn’t it though?’
Pat shrugged her shoulders. Willie gloomily contemplated his ale. Sylvia grew cold with the thought which had just struck her. Pat and her dad would be sure to lose the house which went with the head gardener’s job, in which case Pat and Barry, Greenwood and Dean and Michelle would be homeless. She decided to stay sympathetically silent.
Jimmy spoke up. ‘I may not have led a blameless life, but I’ve never actually stolen anything. It strikes me that you’re all feeling sorry for yourselves and thinking how unfair it all is, when in fact yer guilty.’
A stunned silence greeted his remarks, followed by an enraged babble of noise.
‘Jimmy! You of all people.’
‘Well, I never!’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Turned capitalist, ’ave yer, now yer in business for yourself?’
‘You’re a traitor, you are!’
Jimmy raised a hand to silence them all. ‘Just a minute. Answer me this question. Leaving aside the fact that the stuff was all lying unused around the estate, who does it belong to? Not you, Vera. Not your Rhett. Nor, Pat, does it belong to your dad even though he’s head gardener. So who does it belong to?’
Reluctantly they all said, ‘Mr Fitch.’
‘Exactly. That’s my point.’
Vera protested. ‘But it was lying about doing nothing. He wanted rid of it, he said so. He wouldn’t have missed it. What I want to know is who told him?’
They all agreed they didn’t know. Vera smiled triumphantly. ‘That’s the point, he’d never have realised if someone hadn’t told him. I’ve got to find out who it was.’
Jimmy groaned. ‘Yer ’aven’t got the point, ’ave yer. No matter who told him, yer still guilty of receiving stolen goods. Finding out who let on’ll alter nothing.’
‘I’d still like to know who it was, though.’
Sylvia didn’t improve Vera’s mood by saying, ‘Anyone about that afternoon would have seen them unloading, you know. Anyone at all.’
Vera eyed Jimmy speculatively. ‘It wasn’t you, was it? Coming over all moral about theft just now, it makes me wonder.’
Jimmy snorted his anger. ‘I wouldn’t do a trick like that. I’m not that law abiding, I’ve no loyalty to that old Fitch, believe me. I’d rather see Ralph at the Big House, like he should be, than that old varmint.’
Pat said, ‘And so would I. He wouldn’t have minded Vera having a few stones and that, he’d have given them to her himself.’
Jimmy tapped the table with his forefinger, ‘And that’s why he isn’t up there and old Fitch is. Men like Sir Ralph and those who went before him were too kind. They didn’t watch the pennies, whereas old Fitch always has done and that’s why he owns the Big House and old Ralph doesn’t. Whatever yer say, Rhett, with your dad’s connivance, stole that crazy paving and you’re getting what yer deserve, hard though it may seem.’
Vera stood up. ‘Well, all I can say is, Jimmy Glover, I shan’t be drinking with you any more. I’ve always thought you were one of us, but I can see now you aren’t and never have been. You’re a traitor to your class, you are. A traitor. That’s what.’
With what little dignity she had left after the battering of the last couple of days Vera left the bar, managing to hold on to her tears until she’d got through the door.
Sylvia filled the silence Vera left behind by saying, ‘All this is Hugo Maude’s fault. He’s a lot to answer for.’
Willie asked, ‘Yer mean he told old Jeremy?’
‘Noooo! Of course not. If she’d got the job of wardrobe mistress, Rhett wouldn’t have come up with the idea of cheering her up, would he? So at bottom, when all’s said and done, it’s Hugo that’s caused it all.’
‘Not only that from what I hear,’ Jimmy said slyly.
Sylvia avoided Jimmy’s eye and finished the last of her gin and tonic.
Pat asked, ‘So what have you heard?’
Jimmy leant across the table and began to report the version of the tale he’d heard about Caroline and Hugo in the woods. He had just warmed to his story when the door opened and in came the entire cast of the play and the helpers. Barry came straight across to speak to Pat.
‘Anyone ready for a refill? Be quick, I’m parched!’
They all agreed they were and he took their orders and eventually came back balancing a loaded tray. Barry sat down beside Pat, gave her a hearty kiss, shared out the drinks, toasted them all and downed half his glass at the first go.
‘I needed that. By Jove, what a night we’ve had. Hugo’s been losing his rag every five minutes.’
Sylvia laughed. ‘He was firing on all cylinders when I left. He kept it up, did he?’
‘I should say. He rants and raves and then next second he’s as sweet as honey.’ He shuffled closer to Pat, and whispered, ‘Mind you, Dr Harris gets all the honey bit, it’s the rest of us who get the ranting. That right, Sylvia?’
Sylvia gave a non-committal nod.
‘In fact if I was Neville Neal I’d have resigned tonight. He couldn’t get a word right.’
Pat asked ‘Yer mean he hadn’t learned his lines?’
‘Learned his lines all right, just wasn’t saying ’em like Hugo wanted him to. Give him his due, Neville stuck it out till he got it right.’
Pat recollected her responsibilities and asked, ‘Barry, where’s our Michelle? Who’s taken her home?’
‘Rhett.’
‘Rhett? Oh, I see. Not our Dean?’
‘No. Dean’s over there, look, knocking ’em back. Michelle did real well tonight. Hugo’s very pleased with her.’
Pat beamed. ‘Well, I suppose that’s something to cheer us up, there isn’t much else, is there?’ She looked across to where Hugo was standing beside Caroline toasting her not only with his drink but with his eyes. ‘Dr Harris is skating on thin ice again by the looks of it.’
They watched Hugo put an arm around her waist and keep it there.
Pat asked Sylvia if the Rector would be coming again tonight.
Sylvia shook her head. ‘Can’t do that twice, once but not twice. I’ve an idea he caught it in the neck about that.’
Willie asked what on earth was up with Dr Harris? Something funny had come over her and no mistake.
When they’d all finished watching Hugo lead Caroline to a separate table for two they all looked at Sylvia. ‘Well?’
‘I can’t understand it actually. Her and the Rector, well yer don’t need me to tell you how much they think about each other. Sounds soppy, but they are very, very much in love with one another, like as if they’d married only yesterday. He worships her and her him. Yet he can stand by and give her the freedom to mess about with him.’ She jerked her thumb in Hugo’s direction.
Barry observed, ‘Seems funny to me. If Pat was carrying on like that I’d have blacked both his eyes for starters, and broken both his legs for the main course.’
Willie grunted. ‘Well, they’re educated, aren’t they? Different class o’ people from us. They see things differently’
Barry snorted his disgust. ‘I bet it’s true they’ve been having it off. See him running his finger up her arm? Sexy that. They’re only the same as the rest of us when it comes to hanky panky.’
Jimmy’s eyes twinkled.
Willie looked embarrassed.
Pat gave Barry a nudge to shut him up.
Sylvia became incensed. ‘Barry! Really! What a thing to say!’
Barry leaned over towards her and said quietly so as not to be overheard, ‘Well, admit it, that’s why you’re so worried. That’s what you’re dreading’s happened. I’m telling you by the looks of ’em it has. When the Rector finds out then believe me it’ll be Coronation night and Bonfire Night fireworks rolled into one!’
Jimmy intervened by changing the subject to t
he chances of the Turnham Malpas cricket team this week, and how was Barry’s batting lately.
But Hugo’s finger was still following a vein on Caroline’s arm, and she was still enjoying the sensation.
Chapter 10
In bed that night after Peter had gone to sleep Caroline grew too restless to settle and went downstairs to make herself a drink. Sitting in her rocking chair beside the Aga she sipped her tea and thought about temptation. She looked at her arm, remembering the feeling of Hugo’s finger tracing along her skin. God, he was tempting. There was that indefinable quality which attracted her to him. The way his hand clasped hers, those fingers so strong and yet so elegant. He was truly a man designed for women to adore. She realised Hugo knew he was desirable, whereas Peter never realised for one moment how attractive women found him. Hugo knew women fell for him. He was arrogant, self opinionated, egotistical, not at all the kind of person who in her right mind she would have liked, but at the same time he was gloriously fascinating. Damn him. The mature, experienced, commonsensical, well beloved Caroline had no need to crave for Peter’s love; she had that always, forever. It was hers, whatever she did, whenever she needed it. But right now Peter’s kind of unwavering love had become suffocating; she needed something different, something deeply exciting, before it was all too late. Some exquisite experience that would light her up whenever she thought about it in the years to come. In her heart of hearts the untried virginal Caroline of yesteryear lusted for Hugo. Coming as he did at this very moment in her life he was like the answer to a prayer.
Parallel to her thoughts about temptation and where it might lead ran her thoughts about her children. There was no way she could smash their lives to pieces, and that would be what she would do if she left Peter for Hugo. For Hugo? What was she thinking of? A life of racketing about, never knowing who he was with, what he was doing, never being sure he would come home at night. And the children. In all conscience could she take them from their blood parent? But they were hers, Peter told her so, time and again. They loved her as she loved them. Their dear hearts would break.
How sure could one be of a person like Hugo? One couldn’t. Not so entirely as she could Peter. With Hugo she would have wonderful, glorious, delirious, hilarious times but when it came to the real challenge of life, when the chips were down then where would Hugo be?
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