‘Sheila! Don’t talk rubbish! Of all things, saying that. Anyway, it’s too shallow even when it’s in spate, so you can cross that off for an idea.’
But Sheila didn’t reply. Ron took her hand and urged her to set off for home.
Sheila remarked, ‘Won’t be our home much longer, will it?’
‘We haven’t mentioned it to them as yet, so we can always change our minds. We can do exactly as we wish.’
‘We could always move somewhere entirely different. Leave it all behind us. I know what people think about you and me. They laugh at me. Not you. Me. They scoff because they think I’m an uneducated fool, that I always miss the beat with the way I dress, but I do try. And I behave like an idiot when I meet people like Sir Ralph, I get so het up.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. They all think you’ve done wonders with the fundraising for the New Hope Fund. No one, and I mean no one, can beat you at doing the flowers, there’s something inside you that’s very artistic and it comes out in flower-arranging. What’s more, you’re free to dress as you like, you know. What to wear isn’t carved in stone.’
‘Think so?’
‘And with the W.I. You’ve really stirred them up, not that they needed much stirring up, but you know what I mean. One final effort and you can resign or whatever you want to do.’
‘Ron, I know I don’t treat you as I should. Is it possible to make up for past nastinesses, do you think?’
‘I should imagine so, but you’ve always treated me just right.’
She was furious that he denied her her confession. ‘You’re lying. I haven’t. I’ve been rotten to you. I wish Peter was here. He’d help me.’
‘I expect he’s having to do a lot of helping himself right now, poor chap. Come on, Sheila, let’s go home.’
‘I’ll stay here a bit longer.’
‘You won’t. It’s cold and looking like rain.’ He took her hand and pulled her off the footbridge, switched on his torch and propelled her along the path. ‘We’re going home. Straight to bed with Horlicks and a hot water bottle and a couple of tablets for your bad head.’
‘I haven’t got a bad head.’
‘Well, I say you have.’
When Ron had finally got Sheila to bed, he sat downstairs drinking a whisky, thinking. Ron wasn’t given to thinking about anything much. Mostly he ambled on, doing as Sheila told him to do, and letting life pass him by. But tonight he was feeling strangely troubled. She’d had a terrible shock when little Roderick died, so had they all, but she didn’t seem to be coming to terms with it.
It was worrying and he’d have liked to confide his worries to someone, but he couldn’t think of anyone to turn to. Peter would have been the person with the right answer. Peter, poor chap. What a state of affairs that was. His children missing. Poor Caroline.
Ron went into the kitchen to rinse out his glass because Sheila hated going into the kitchen in the morning to find it smelling of an unwashed whisky glass. When he thought about it, like he was doing right now, she ruled every little corner of his life, and it was time he took charge. Maybe that was what she’d needed all these years, for Ronald Gladstone Bissett to take charge. Had he always been too soft? Too eager to please her right from the start? He stared out through the kitchen window into the dark of the night and remembered how he’d once said in the very early days he’d have liked to have been called Gladstone Bissett, it sounded so much more distinguished than Ronald, he thought, and much more heroic when he was up-and-coming in the TUC, but Sheila had laughed her head off, and when she could speak she’d said, ‘You’d be nicknamed Gladys and that would never do.’
He wasn’t half the man that Gilbert was, with his gentle manners and his compassionate outlook on life, and his big family. He was a pillar of strength for Louise to lean on. Maybe he’d better be someone for Sheila to lean on.
When he went into the bedroom Sheila was whimpering in her sleep like a small child in the midst of a bad dream. Must be that dream she’s been having about that lost child, thought Ron. He got into his pyjamas, lifted the goose-and-duck-down duvet Sheila had insisted upon, even when she knew he preferred blankets – ‘Everyone who is anyone has duvets these days,’ she’d protested – slid into bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her, scooped her up into his arms and held her close.
Chapter 18
The fact that no more had been heard from Peter and Caroline for several days was a matter of considerable concern for everyone. Was there any point in going ahead with the New Hope Fund race afternoon?
It fell to Anna to convince everyone that they must hold it. ‘After all, the money is needed more than ever, surely? If Peter isn’t there, someone will be and the congregation’ll still need Bibles and church furniture, won’t they?’
She felt certain, deep inside herself, that they would come home, all four of them, shattered by their experiences but safe. The mind, though, with the knowledge gained by the sort of intimate insight one got through viewing uprisings worldwide on the television thought differently. Just one small outburst, one wrong word, and they could all be shot dead or worse. She prayed earnestly every day for their safety. Surely the potential they both had for doing good wouldn’t be cut short, would it? That would be too cruel.
Anna decided to go see Gilbert and Louise, one of the neediest of families in her care. Even before she got out of her car she could hear the noise they were making. Obviously they were out in the back garden, so she unlatched the gate, and went through to the back. Louise, holding Oliver in her arms, was watching the other children chasing Gilbert round the garden, trying to beat him with the sticks they were holding. There was a lot of laughter and shrieking and the children kept almost catching him but still he got away.
‘Hi, there!’ The chasing game abruptly stopped and they all turned to look at her. ‘I came through, hope you don’t mind. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t hear the doorbell.’
Anna was horrified when Louise turned to greet her. She’d lost weight, a lot of weight, her hair hung lifelessly around her shoulders, and the worst of it was her face had grown old in a matter of weeks. All the happy contentment in her marriage, her husband and her children had disappeared, to be replaced by total dejection and despair.
Gilbert looked scarcely any better than Louise. He had had no weight to lose but he had lost it anyway. His shoulder blades were evident, his back hunched, his eyes distraught. So the chasing and the laughter were put on for the sake of the children.
‘Hi! What fun. Come and introduce yourselves, children. My name’s Anna.’ She pointed to young Gilbert. ‘And you’re Gilbert, and I know Baby Oliver,’ he got a tickled tummy and she got a smile from him, ‘but I’m afraid I don’t know you girls.’
Louise helped her out. ‘This one in blue is Rosalind, the one in red is Emily and this one here hiding behind me is Jenna. Say hello, girls.’
They did. Gilbert said nothing. It was left to Louise to invite her in. ‘Please, we were just about to go inside for a drink. Shall you have one with us?’
‘I’d be delighted, if it isn’t too much trouble.’ She followed Louise into the kitchen.
‘One more won’t make a big difference.’ She started to smile and then wiped it off. ‘Sorry. I keep saying such stupid things. I have to keep going for the children, you see. I’m compelled to keep going for the children. After all, they still need feeding and dressing and taking to playgroup and ballet and things … I have to get up in the morning whether I want to or not.’
‘It must be very difficult. I think you’re doing marvellously well, considering.’
‘Considering we’ve lost one of our babies?’ Louise ran the tap and held the kettle under it.
Anna nodded. ‘Well, yes, I did mean that, of course. What else could I mean?’
‘I feel guilty, you see.’
‘About what?’
‘About not having scans and tests.’
‘Are you saying you’d have had an a
bortion if you’d known?’
Louise turned off the tap and switched the kettle on. ‘No, we wouldn’t, we consider that murder.’
‘Well, then. You did the only thing you could do, you waited to see.’
‘We did. Yes. But why did he die?’
‘Because he was too frail. He was much too early. He just didn’t make it. You’ve nothing to blame yourself for. Nothing at all. Nature doesn’t always behave perfectly as any wild animal could tell you … should they be able to speak.’
‘Was it a punishment?’
‘For what?’
‘For Gilbert and I loving each other too much. Because we do. In the dark hours of the night I’m so glad it was Roderick and not Gilbert who died. Isn’t that dreadful of me?’
‘No, it’s understandable. Very understandable in the circumstances. Every woman feels vulnerable when she has small children to bring up. It’s only natural you should feel like that.’
‘Since the first day I met Gilbert our lives have been so beautiful. We wanted children and we’ve got them. We wanted a rural life and we’ve got it. Now, out of the blue, this terrible blow, everything shattered into fragments. It’s hard to understand and even harder to bear.’ Louise began putting out cups and mugs. ‘Mother’s suggested that we change houses with her and Dad.’
‘Now that is a good idea; hers is so much bigger.’
‘I know it is, but this is home.’
‘Yes, it is, but think of the convenience of two bathrooms and bigger rooms and a huge garden. I imagine your dad is well past keeping it in order, he’ll be secretly relieved to hand it over.’
Louise agreed with her. ‘Yes, but the upheaval. It’s all too much.’
‘It will give you something to focus on, won’t it?’
Anna didn’t get an answer for a moment and then Louise said after a deep breath, ‘I need that. Something to focus on. I’m so frightened we’ll never pull through this.’ She stared out of the window, watching Gilbert brushing Emily down after a fall.
‘Here, let me.’ Anna made the tea, put out the children’s orange juice, poured the tea and carried the tray into the dining room so the children could sit up to the table, leaving Louise to cry by the kitchen sink.
Anna went back into the kitchen to pick up Oliver out of the pan cupboard, where he was merrily dragging the pans out and banging them with a wooden spoon, and to put him in his high chair by the dining table. Gilbert came in with the other children, settled them down with their drinks and biscuits, accepted his cup of tea from Anna and sat at the head of the table. Anna sat at the other end and endeavoured to involve the children in conversation.
But Gilbert interrupted before she’d even begun. ‘Anna, is Louise all right?’
‘Having a good cry, it’ll do her good.’
‘I don’t know what to say or do next.’
‘Take it one day at a time.’
Rosalind began kicking young Gilbert under the table. ‘Easier said than done. Rosalind! That will do, thank you very much. The slightest thing upsets her.’
Rosalind looked suitably chastened.
Anna marvelled at the calm way Gilbert kept the children in order. She didn’t envy them coping with such a large family when both of them were in such depths of despair.
‘I’m sure that must be so. But eventually you’ll catch a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel and you’ll start to get there before long. You won’t forget what has happened but the pain will recede and you’ll be able to look to the future.’
Gilbert rewarded her sympathy with a faint smile. ‘Are you happy here?’
‘I’d be much happier if we knew what was happening to Peter and Caroline and the twins. Sir Ralph had that brief moment in the spotlight and then it’s all gone dead again. I only hope we hear good news before the race afternoon. Everyone is losing interest, but they mustn’t.’ She banged her fist on the dining table, which made the children jump. They all laughed and so did she. Louise came in, having obviously given her face a good rinse under the kitchen tap to wash away the tears, and asked what the joke was.
Gilbert explained, as Anna stood up to make room for Louise. ‘I’d best be going. Sit here, Louise, where you belong.’ At the door she turned back to look at them all and thought how wonderfully lucky they were. They didn’t feel that at the moment but they would in time. ‘Bye, children. Take care, all of you.’
On her way back to the rectory, Anna spotted Greta Jones walking up Shepherd’s Hill towards the village and stopped to offer her a lift.
‘Are you out for the exercise or would you care for a lift?’
Greta turned to see who was offering. She was in two minds. Accept or not? Give herself more time to think or … she made up her mind. ‘Thanks.’
‘Sit in the front, I’ll just move my bag.’
‘Before we drive off, can I have a word?’
Anna switched off the ignition and sat back. But Greta didn’t say anything at all at first. She simply sat looking out of the window, pondering.
‘Is it something I can help you with?’ Greta still didn’t speak. ‘Just take your time, Greta.’
‘Well, I don’t know if you can. Help, I mean. I’m so disappointed.’
‘What about?’
‘Paddy.’
‘Isn’t it working out then, him lodging with you?’
‘That bit’s OK. Vince enjoys his company and Paddy’s done loads in the garden, it looks really good now. He’s strong, you see, and can dig like a navvy. He’s made me a bigger vegetable patch out of some rough ground I’d never bothered with. One minute I looked out and he’d just started; next minute, it seemed, it was double dug and waiting to be planted. He’s been a real tonic for Vince and me. Someone to look after, yer know what I mean. But …’
‘Is he thieving still? Is that it?’
Greta turned a concerned face towards Anna and said quietly, ‘Well, yes, that’s it. He is. Damn and blast him. Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve heard far worse on the Bun run in Culworth. There’s not much can shock me. How do you know he’s stealing?’
‘He’s started bringing home fruit from the hot houses, and vegetables I don’t grow, from the kitchen garden. Says he’s paid for ’em but I’m sorry, I don’t think he has. But we’re eating ’em ’cos we don’t like to tell him we think he’s stealing ’em. Sounds like we don’t trust him, which we did, except now we don’t. He doesn’t need to, we manage very nicely with his money. And what if Mr Fitch finds out? Someone what works in the estate maintenance told our Barry he has no more chances left since Mr Fitch caught him with a box of daffodil bulbs he was going to sell to a chap on the market. Can’t tell Michelle because she’ll lose her job for letting it go on, and they’ll all be homeless. I can’t have that on my conscience. What’s worse, Vince and me’s eating the stuff so we’re a party to the act of stealing. Puts us in a very difficult position.’
‘Would you like me to have a word?’
‘But how can you? He’ll know I’ve told you and then he won’t trust me no more. He feels like a son to me.’ Greta dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘Then … I haven’t told Vince this … yesterday I was doing his bedroom and putting his laundry away for ’im and I found something in his drawer what I think’s come from the Big House.’
Anna’s heart jumped. ‘What was it?’
‘A little silver dish, like a bon-bon dish, kind of old, yer know. I don’t understand hallmarks but it’s got some and it’s very elegant, so it’s not rubbish. That’s the worst thing. Old Fitch’ull have him in prison in a jiffy. He’s told him so. Why does he do it? Can you tell me? He’s got a home and a job. Why?’
‘Since he was a boy he’s been out in the big bad world, fending for himself and his family, and he can’t seem to stop it. It’s like an addiction, like smoking or drinking or gambling. We’ve got to do something though.’
‘Yes, but what?’
‘I’ll
think about it. Where’s the dish now?’
‘I left it where it was … here, look at the time. I promised Jimbo I’d work this afternoon extra. We’ve got so many orders in. I’ll have to go.’ Greta tried opening the door.
‘Don’t get out. I’m driving you there, remember?’ So they charged up Church Hill like bats out of hell and roared up to the Store. Greta got out, saying before she put her feet on the ground, ‘Don’t let on, will you?’
‘Of course not. I’ll be in touch.’
Anna found Paddy sitting in the wheelbarrow in the sun eating a late lunch and leaning against the brick wall of the potting shed.
He appeared very nonchalant but she caught a flicker of wariness in his eyes as he greeted her. ‘Hello! To what do I owe this honour? Don’t usually get company in my lunch hour.’
She stood quite still looking at him and not speaking.
He didn’t attempt to fill the silence and neither did she. His ham and salad sandwich looked gorgeously tempting, with its homemade crusty brown bread and the mayonnaise squeezing out of it at each bite and the ham hanging out over the edges. When you haven’t yet had your lunch … So she reached across and took the other half from his lunchbox and began eating it.
Paddy looked startled. ‘Eh! That’s mine, I’ve been working hard all morning and looking forward to that. Give it me back.’ He was squinting into the sun when he looked up at her and it made him look like a particularly unpleasant garden gnome.
‘I wanted it.’
‘But it’s not for you to just take it, without so much as a by-your-leave. Give it back.’
‘No, I want it. Just like when you want things and take them. I’m doing the same.’
Paddy peeled himself out of the wheelbarrow and stood looking at her, the corners of his mouth oozing mayonnaise. ‘What’s that meant to mean?’
Whispers in the Village Page 21
