Enigma of Fire

by Marilyn Leach

  Reluctantly, she moved her eyes to the ancient pillar before her, when patriotic music sounded forth and made her sit straight up and blink. It came from her bag. She flung the thing open and began digging through until she found her mobile, which she obviously had not turned off, but now did. Lord have mercy.

  Mrs. Hall stared at her.

  “Sorry,” Berdie whispered.

  Berdie eyed the caller ID. Avril Royce. She let go a gasp.

  Whoever had not been staring at her when the mobile phone blared was looking her way now.

  She flushed. The pillar in front of her almost seemed a gift. It would avert the glare she was sure Hugh could be sending her way right now. “Excuse me,” she whispered to Mrs. Hall again. “Emergency.”

  Berdie, as discreetly as possible, scooted from the pew and out the main door, not even giving a glimpse in Hugh’s direction. “Dear God, let her still be available,” Berdie prayed at the bottom of her voice.

  Outside and away from the church door, she checked her voicemail. Nothing.

  “I so wish Hugh was available to do this,” Berdie moaned. But she didn’t want to risk not finding Avril available. She rang up the commander’s daughter and took a deep breath.

  “Yes.” Avril’s voice was anxious when she answered.

  “Avril, this is Berdie Elliott. My husband is a former naval officer who served with your father.”

  “Yes, what’s happened?”

  Berdie swallowed. “Well, your father was spending time with us here in Aidan Kirkwood when he was involved in”—Berdie paused—“a rather awful accident of sorts.”

  “Accident of sorts? What does that mean?” Avril almost sounded irritated.

  Berdie pulled her shoulders back. “This may be difficult for you to comprehend, but I’ll tell you straight. Your father was in a vehicle that burst into flames and…”

  “Is he…?”

  “Hanging on by a slender thread.”

  There was a labored pause. “Did this happen on the road?”

  “No, the vehicle was parked. I’m afraid foul play is suspected.”

  “Foul play.” Another uneasy pause ensued. “So what you’re saying is that my father was the victim of a bomb blast?”

  “It’s still under investigation, but it does appear so.”

  Silence seemed a gulf between them.

  “Avril?”

  “I was expecting to get a call like this. Most my life, I’ve been dreading a call like this.”

  “I understand how difficult…”

  “Do you?” Avril interrupted. “The kind of work he did, military intelligence, all the horrible things that took place under his command, how could it not come back on him?”

  Berdie was prepared for tears and distress from the commander’s daughter, but not this.

  “It had to happen eventually, didn’t it? How long can you secretly carry on ruining people’s lives and not be found out?”

  Berdie gripped the phone, working at keeping even-tempered. She had to put the young woman’s acidic views behind her. “Avril, you need to come to your father’s aid. Whatever you may think or feel about his vocation, he is still your father. He could die at any moment and he needs you.”

  “Does he? Perhaps you should tell him that.”

  Berdie tried to comprehend the moment. “He’s not in a position to be told anything.” What on earth had happened between the commander and his daughter?

  Berdie heard a bleep sound that created a quick break in transmission, and her thoughts took a different course. “Where are you, Avril?”

  “I’m not in the country, if you must know. Neither my boyfriend nor I have the readies for air travel.”

  Boyfriend. How did he suddenly come into the conversation? Readies? That could compound the issue, but not if Berdie could do anything about it. “Avril, we can work out any financial assistance you may need, and you’re welcome to stay in our home, the vicarage, in Aidan Kirkwood.”

  There was no response.

  “Avril, you can’t just leave your father.”

  “I love him desperately, you know.”

  Berdie detected a slight tremor in Avril’s words. “Of course you do. You are his daughter.”

  “No, no, that’s not what I mean. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand that if you don’t come to your father’s side, you may carry a world of regrets to your grave. You really must come.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be very kind. He’ll be in tender care with you. Tell Daddy”—her words were unsteady—“goodbye for me.”

  “But, Avril.”

  Click.

  “Avril, Avril?” Berdie literally shook the mobile phone as if it would bring the young woman back. She hurriedly rang up Avril’s number again. No response.

  Berdie sighed. Now she was not just tired, she was second-guessing herself. Should she have left this call to Hugh, who, having had training in discussions of this sort, may have gotten a different response? A moot point now.

  Having just made a hash of things was certainly not something Berdie fancied.

  She heard a slight screech of brakes and looked to the road, where Doc Honeywell had brought his old car to a dead stop at the edge of the church garden. He opened the car door and stuck out his balding head, glasses halfway down his nose. “Mrs. Elliott, how fortuitous that you should be out here. I need to speak with you.”

  She walked toward his vehicle. “Yes, Dr. Honeywell, what is it?”

  The man made a strained effort to rise.

  Berdie knew the retired doctor, now in his eighties, would be more comfortable being seated. “Please stay seated, Doctor.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “These old legs don’t always do what I want them to.”

  Berdie was already at his car.

  “I just wanted you to know that the dog will be put down this afternoon at Dr. Stoddard’s animal surgery. I thought you should know.”

  “Dog? Sparks? Sparks is alive?”

  “Is that his name? Bad shape, I’m afraid. Terrible shape, really. It’s a sure thing his master can’t look after him.” He nodded. “Most humane thing, you know.”

  Berdie felt suddenly sorry for the creature that had invaded and disrupted her home. Sparks most surely saved lives yesterday. What an ignominious ending for a dog who served his country. To be put down with none in attendance to recognize his contribution to the welfare of countless troops seemed unthinkable. “What time?”

  “Time?” Doc Honeywell squinted.

  “What time is Sparks to be put down?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Could you ask Dr. Stoddard to delay until someone known to the dog can be present?”

  The doctor grinned. “I think it unlikely that the animal would be affected by such a thing, but I’ll ring the vet and make the request if you wish.”

  “Yes, please. I’ll be at the animal surgery this afternoon then.”

  “As you think best, Mrs. Elliott.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The man kept his half-smile and closed the car door. Berdie watched him depart, knowing he thought her a bit silly. The old doctor, who probably had occasionally treated animals as well as people in his country practice, generally thought in terms of livestock rather than pets or companions.

  Nonetheless, it was the honorable thing to do, to see Sparks off. She was sure the commander would have done the same if he was able. And so she would do it, by God’s grace. She may even secretly shed a tear for the once-lively animal.

  5

  Hugh scooped up the roast-beef sandwich as he raced for the back door of the kitchen. “Thanks, Berdie.” He struggled to keep his flask of tea and small bag of crisps firmly gripped.

  Berdie marveled at how Hugh kept going: first church, then eat-on-the-run lunch back to the hospital. “Now I know eating while driving can be tricky, besides having had little sleep, so please do be careful.” Berdie wiped her hands on her floral summe
r pinny. “Ring me if anything changes with Cedric.”

  “Of course. I’ll see you at the hospital then when you’re done at the animal surgery?”

  Berdie nodded. “Lillie and Loren should be here at any time.”

  “Kind of them to take you.”

  “Kind indeed.” Berdie threw open the back door for Hugh.

  Hugh placed a rushed peck on Berdie’s cheek. “I’ll see you at the hospital.”

  As Hugh departed, Berdie picked up the stack of Saturday post she had put aside yesterday and rifled through. “Mostly adverts and bills, of course.”

  A postcard slipped out from amongst the envelopes. It was from Reverend Angela Rockledge, a woman with whom Berdie disagreed on almost any topic. They had met when Hugh attended seminary where Angela was a student as well. She and Berdie had engaged in many lively discussions, each taking the opposite end of the spectrum. Still, they had a certain regard for each other.

  Berdie read the postcard. You’re invited to a lecture given by myself, to be held noon, Wednesday this week, at St. Paul’s, Slough. Spiritual Gifts and the Modern Woman. Q and A after. Love to see you there. Angie.

  “Angie?” Berdie said out loud. “Go all the way to London to completely disagree? Nice of you to think of me, Angela, but I’m afraid this modern woman hasn’t the time.”

  Berdie discarded the postcard in the kitchen rubbish bin, when she heard what sounded like a scramble on the stairway.

  It reminded her that she must tell Doug and Tillie that roast-beef sandwiches, piled thick with fresh garden tomatoes on horseradish-slathered brown bread, awaited them along with a large bag of cheese-and-onion crisps, pickled onions, and Scotch eggs, if Tillie would permit.

  She ran a critical eye over the tabletop where the sandwiches were plated up, ready. Not much of a Sunday lunch, but then she really was doing her exhausted best.

  When Berdie opened the kitchen door and sprang into the hall, she nearly ran over Doug in his wheelchair being pushed by Tillie at full tilt.

  “Oh.” Berdie placed her hand over her heart. “You gave me quite a turn.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Elliott,” Doug apologized.

  “No bother. In fact, this is good timing. I’ve laid the table for your lunch. Just roast-beef sandwiches, I’m afraid.”

  “We won’t be having lunch,” Tillie announced. “I just came to let you know we’re leaving.”

  “Leaving? But you didn’t say. Still, I can wrap the sandwiches for later.”

  “I appreciate your accommodation, but we won’t be here later. You see, we’ll be staying at Kirkwood Green B and B for the rest of our stay in the village.”

  Berdie’s jaw went slack.

  “I should have left altogether, but the authorities have asked we stay close.”

  “Aside from poor Cedric,” Doug added.

  “But why, why are you departing?”

  Tillie already maneuvered the wheelchair back into the hall and began to scoot toward the front door.

  Berdie followed. She spied the luggage stacked near the entryway. This must have been why Tillie hadn’t stayed at church.

  “I should think I deserve some kind of explanation.” After the sharpish sentence flew from Berdie’s mouth, she realized she could have worded it much better.

  Tillie pulled the wheelchair up short to turn and face Berdie, lips pursed. “All right then. It’s no longer good for my father to be in this place. Every moment is a reminder of that horrible explosion. The very site’s only yards away. Police in and out. It’s disturbing and it only aggravates everything he’s working to put behind him.”

  Berdie could feel her own aggravation rising. “But changing a location doesn’t take care of the heart of the problem.”

  Tillie’s jaw set. Her long blonde hair looked almost white as her face went red. “Do you have any idea what the heart of the problem really is? You haven’t even an inkling of what my father has endured.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “This whole situation is a dog’s dinner.” She reopened them and set them squarely on Berdie. “Putting it in easily understood terms, I should think you’d realize that once you’ve been scalded by the hot water, you don’t stay in the bath.”

  Berdie could see this conversation had gone completely pear-shaped. Being sleep deprived didn’t do any favors for either of them. “Tillie.”

  The vicarage doorbell cut into the exchange.

  “That’s our cab,” Tillie spewed.

  Berdie raced ahead and placed herself between the door and the wheelchair and took an entirely different tack. “I got hold of Avril.”

  Tillie stopped her forward progress. “When does she arrive?” she snapped.

  “Avril’s abroad.” Berdie eked the words out. “I’m afraid I have no certainty she’ll be coming.”

  Tillie shook her head. “Please move.”

  This was no way to end a visit, cab or not. “I’m sorry you feel this way.” Berdie looked at the now-somber man, who had been so lively and engaged at church. “Doug?”

  He returned her gaze. “We appreciate all you’ve done for us.” He turned his eyes away. “But Tillie’s got a point. For all our sakes, it’s best to go.”

  Tillie gripped the wheelchair handles with such ferocity her knuckles went white. “Now, if you please, Mrs. Elliott, move out of the way. Our taxi’s waiting.”

  Berdie still held her back against the door. “Can we talk about this?”

  Tillie’s red face hardened as she nudged the wheelchair forward, nearly flattening Berdie’s toe.

  Berdie’s strength to pursue the issue took a knockout blow. In what felt a defenseless gesture, she moved aside from the door.

  “Thank you,” Doug offered. He took Berdie’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

  Berdie was a sail that had lost all its wind.

  Tillie thrust the door open.

  “Cab,” Granville Morrison announced with sunshine.

  “Get the suitcases please,” Tillie briskly commanded. “And mind how you go. Don’t dawdle.”

  “As you say.” Granville, large frame standing nearly at attention, stepped inside.

  “Yes. Well, we’ll be in touch then.” Berdie, still rather stunned, watched Tillie push Doug through the doorway with noticeable displeasure.

  “Hello, Mrs. Elliott.” Granville tipped his head and eyed the bags. “This lot will take two trips, I daresay.”

  “Yes,” Berdie said absently.

  “You OK?” Granville clutched a couple bags.

  Berdie took a breath. “Yes, thank you, Granville, just a bit sad to see our guests go.”

  “Well, that one seems eager to push off. No great loss from what I can see.”

  “She’s momentarily out of sorts,” Berdie breathed.

  “Any word on the general?”

  “General? Oh, the commander. Sadly, the commander’s condition hasn’t changed, but he is still with us.”

  “Sorry to hear his dog’s going to get put down. The beast done well, he surely did.”

  Aidan Kirkwood’s ability to transmit word about in record time never ceased to amaze Berdie. “Yes.” She nodded.

  Granville left, struggling with the heavy bags.

  Berdie hadn’t yet considered what scuttlebutt could be churning at the Copper Kettle, Aidan Kirkwood’s tiny tea shop that was gossip central. And she knew all recent vicarage events were the topic of conversation at the local pub, the Upland Arms, without stepping foot in the place.

  Granville returned and took the rest of the bags. “Salute the old soldier for me and my missus, if you don’t mind, when you send the dog off.”

  “Yes. And God go with you.”

  It was then Berdie realized that there would now be even more tittle-tattle over scones and clotted cream. Granville would surely tell his wife, Polly, about the rancorous departure of Doug and Tillie from the vicarage. And Polly would tell her best friend, Mary Rose, who in turn would tell Villette Horn, her sister and the owner
of the tea shop. And there it was. Everything would be for public consumption along with steaming tea. “This village goes one better than e-mail.” Berdie sank onto an oak-wood step of the stairs in the hallway.

  “Hello, Dr. Meredith, Miss Foxworth.”

  Berdie heard Granville’s greeting and looked out the still-open door to see Loren and Lillie approach the entry.

  “The angels are departing?” Lillie’s smile went limp when she eyed Berdie closely.

  “You look as if you need a cup of stout tea,” Dr. Loren Meredith said in his most gentle of ways. His shoulder-length hair, pulled back and banded at the nape of his neck, though black, was graying at the temples. And it called attention to his smoky brown eyes that seemed full of empathy at the moment.

  “I should think I do, actually.” She glanced at the clock. “But we really haven’t the time.”

  “Are you sure seeing this dog off is necessary? I mean, you didn’t really ever take to it.” Dr. Meredith offered his hand to help Berdie rise from her position.

  Berdie placed her fingers in his and stood. “It’s important, Loren. Yesterday we had several guests. Today we have none. I’m all out today on the art of difficult conversation. Perhaps I can get it right with a silent tribute to a departing service dog.”

  “You sound absolutely maudlin.” Lillie didn’t mince words.

  “Not maudlin so much as just letting tired get the better of me.”

  “Well, we’ll have to put a stop to that, for a start.”

  Thank God for her dear friend. Berdie smiled. “Oh yes?” She stood a little straighter.

  “Right. You’re not yourself, so carry on this afternoon. Go to bed early this evening and sleep well. Tomorrow you can properly sort apples from pears.”

  Berdie now chuckled. “Say, speaking of apples, there’s some roast-beef sandwiches on the kitchen table just ready to eat. Interested?”

  “I’ll get them,” Loren offered.

  “They need cling film.”

  “Any tea in the pot?” Loren asked.

  Berdie nodded.

  “Well, get that pinny off and let’s go to the car. We’ve a dog to see off,” Lillie charged.

  While Berdie removed the apron, Lillie started to the door and stopped. “Hello,” she said with familiarity. “I’m sorry. We were just leaving.”