Whispers in the Village
Page 25
When he arrived at the altar steps, he smiled at Sheila’s small weekday flower arrangement on the table. To him it represented the whole village welcoming him home, and there he knelt, hands together in prayer, feeling like a lost soul finally, despite all his tribulations, arriving home where he belonged.
He’d knelt there praying for more than an hour when he sensed the door open and footsteps, his darling Caroline’s footsteps, coming towards him. She didn’t interrupt him, just stood with a hand on his shoulder, waiting. Peter bowed his head, indicating he’d finished and Caroline said softly, ‘Darling, you’ll catch your death in here. Come home. Jimbo and Harriet have come, and they’ve got big news for you. You can always come back tomorrow.’
He got to his feet, stiff and aching with kneeling so long. When she looked in his face she thought she caught a tiny glimmer of his enduring inner light, and she was glad.
‘Are they jolly?’
‘Of course. What else? They’re so glad we’re home.’
‘And the children?’
‘It’s really time they were in bed after such a long day, but I’m saying nothing at all. They sleep so little at the moment, for now it’s best to leave it to them.’
Peter locked the main door and paused to look up at the sky. ‘Remember those fantastic sunsets we used to see?’
‘Of course.’
‘But … other things … crowded out the pleasure.’
‘You have to remember the wonderful support your congregation gave you. Remember Elijah and how hard he tried to find Alex and Beth; it was his clues that helped us find them. The children owe their lives to our neighbours and friends. Remember what a tower of strength Winsome was. Don’t forget the triumphs we had, the joy of such enthusiastic Christians.’
‘Of course. But whyever I felt the need to drag my family into such hell I shall never know.’
‘We all went willingly, and we didn’t know it would turn into hell. What’s more, we needed to go. It’s been a kind of cleansing for me. I’ve seen what other people’s lives can be like and it’s taught me to be grateful for the peace we enjoy, and the security and love that surrounds us. You know, ever since the twins were born, I’ve been carrying a load of emotional baggage, which I’ve never been able to rid myself of. The children meeting their real mother for the first time was almost unendurable for me. I was glad to go away and get some perspective on it. But here I am, I’ve survived and I’m stronger for it. And much happier. So let’s wipe the slate clean. Make a new start.’
Peter smiled at Caroline, took her hand and said, ‘Thank you for saying that.’
Patiently waiting for them were Harriet and Jimbo watching TV in the sitting room with Alex and Beth.
Jimbo had his bottle of Irish whiskey prominently on display. He got to his feet to shake hands with Peter saying, ‘My God, man. Am I glad to have you back.’ Then he took Caroline into his arms and hugged and kissed her. ‘We’ve waited for this day. Believe me. Anna’s been brilliant in the circumstances but it was the two of you we wanted back. As for you, Alex, I swear you’ve grown at least a foot since we saw you last. And Beth, I think you get prettier by the day.’
Alex turned off the TV and they all sat down again.
Peter said, ‘It’s great to be back. We feel as though we’ve been away for years, and it’s only a matter of months.’
‘Well now, I’ve brought this very precious bottle of Irish whiskey I was given and I intend that we all drink a toast to friends and home. It’s a very special malt, rarely obtainable. How about it?’
Peter got the glasses out of the dining-room sideboard and carried them in on a tray with a jug of water. There were six whiskey glasses.
Caroline protested, ‘Peter, surely not for Alex and Beth.’
‘Just for the toast, I insist.’
Beth declared she doubted if she would like it.
Alex said, ‘Am I grown up, then?’
Peter studied him. ‘Judging by what you’ve done this last few weeks, I think you must be.’
Harriet longed to ask what had Alex done, but daren’t. There felt to be a complete embargo on mentioning the Africa question.
Jimbo proposed the toast. ‘To all of us, glad to be reunited, to Turnham Malpas for being so stout-hearted in the absence of their rector and his wife, and to Anna Sanderson who has so manfully held us together.’
Caroline asked, ‘Did you need to be held together?’
‘Oh yes, at times. My mother, bless her dear heart, got arrested when she got drunk in Culworth, in the middle of the day too, which seemed to make it worse, and—’
Caroline almost choked on her drink with surprise. ‘Your mother! What on earth for?’
So gradually all the stories came out: Neville Neal in a red wig and smart dressing gown at the pyjama party; Greta Jones doing the cancan; Grandmama Charter-Plackett’s Jaffa-coloured hair; Paddy Cleary driving the bus into Culworth – Paddy Cleary? Who’s he?; the fire at Glebe House; the car in the pond; the two policemen at the skinny-dipping in Jimbo’s pool – You mean, naked? And so it went on. Both Caroline and Peter, to say nothing of the twins, were totally amazed.
Peter wanted to know who had organized it all and Harriet had to confess it was the W.I.
At this everyone by the name of Harris went into explosions of laughter. It was a few minutes before they could speak.
‘All this going on when we were away. What we missed! Oh my word.’ Peter couldn’t help himself, he had to ask. ‘Tell me, why was your mother drunk with Jaffa-coloured hair?’
So the sponsored hair-dyeing competition was brought to light. The thought of dignified Mrs Charter-Plackett with orange hair was almost too much for Alex and Beth, and they reeled about on the sofa, helpless with laughter.
Jimbo refilled glasses, intending to relax everyone even more.
‘All this to raise money for the mission?’
Harriet answered. ‘Oh yes. Sheila Bissett has been an absolute gem. Everything meticulously organized except …’
Caroline prompted her. ‘Yes?’
‘Except when … Oh, well, never mind, another time.’
‘I insist.’ Caroline patted Harriet’s knee. ‘Come on.’
Harriet glanced briefly at Jimbo and decided confession time had arrived. ‘This whiskey you are drinking is not the bottle Jimbo was given.’
Jimbo grabbed the bottle to read the label. ‘It is.’
‘No, darling, it isn’t. We found ourselves yesterday with no thank you gift for Craddock Fitch for the champagne race party so I gave him yours.’
Jimbo got to his feet, shocked. ‘What? But that was only yesterday. Where’s this come from?’
‘Culworth this morning. That high-priced wine merchant, fortunately for me, had a couple of bottles in. I didn’t need a haircut at all, I was going for the whiskey. So pour us another one and we’ll toast wives, ever the deceivers.’
So they toasted wives and then had another toast to the race afternoon, when it had been explained.
‘So these were all the charity events you mentioned?’
‘That’s right.’
Alex interrupted their conversation saying, ‘Mum, I’m taking Beth upstairs, I think she’s drunk.’
‘Good idea. She very probably is. Mind she doesn’t fall. Oh dear, no more whiskey for her for a while. Whoops! Night-night, darlings, sleep tight.’
‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
Caroline watched them leave and as soon as she knew they couldn’t hear what she was saying she explained, ‘Hoped the whiskey might help them sleep. They’re so uptight over it all. They haven’t had a full night’s sleep for weeks.’
After the children had gone Jimbo said, ‘One day perhaps you’ll be able to tell us all about it. I did think a couple of whiskies might just help, but perhaps another time, eh?’
Glass in hand, Peter replied, ‘Another time. Suffice to say for the moment that the children were hidden for weeks in a wood b
y some of our congregation. They were fed as best the people could, seeing as they themselves were starving because of the fighting. The whole situation was horrifying. We didn’t know whether the children were alive or dead. They’d escaped the attack on the car and managed to run away in the dark. Eventually Caroline and I set off with backpacks to hunt for them, found them and then we too couldn’t get away. Two soldiers who’d been in our congregation came across us quite by chance and where we’d expected instant death we found ourselves being cared for and helped to get away. They took terrible risks on our behalf. We can never repay them for what they did.’
‘Well,’ said Jimbo, ‘what we’ve done while you’ve been away might just perhaps help you to repay them in some way. We’ve managed to raise over twenty-seven thousand pounds for that congregation. Mostly because of gambling on a horse.’
Caroline and Peter were astounded. ‘Gambling on a horse! And twenty-seven thousand pounds. We can’t believe it! That’s amazing. They do so need every single penny.’
Jimbo checked the time. ‘Sorry, got to go. Things to do. Stay here, Harriet.’
‘Where are you—?’
‘You’ll see. It’s Anna. She’s organized things. Be back.’
It was ten o’clock when Jimbo disappeared. The three left behind chatted about the village and what had been happening, when their conversation was interrupted by the church bells. Peal after peal, following one on another, till the very earth seemed to tremble with the resonance of it all. They were ringing out a gloriously triumphant statement of thanksgiving for the safe return of their rector. Peter’s spirits, so long in turmoil over recent happenings in his life, rose to unaccustomed heights: he had to open the front door to listen. He was joined by the twins and Caroline, who came to stand beside them, an arm around each of her children.
Outside in the road were a host of villagers holding aloft lanterns or lighted torches and Peter’s heart almost burst. Everyone listened until the last peal had drifted away into the night, their faces alight with pleasure.
Anna was standing at the front of the crowd. When the final peal had died away, she and Sheila Bissett, each of them holding a corner of the cheque, handed the money they had raised to Peter.
‘Delighted to have you back,’ Anna said. ‘Please accept this on behalf of the church but, most of all, on behalf of the Women’s Institute because they did all the hard work. God bless you, so glad you’re home where you belong. Three cheers for Peter and Caroline and Alex and Beth.’
The cheers echoed round the village. There hadn’t been a time when they had cheered more earnestly than they did this night. The moon was up, the stars were out and the village resounded with happiness and heartfelt relief at the safe return of their best-beloved rector.
When they all went to their homes, Peter sat down in the kitchen while Caroline tidied the glasses. He was looking at the cheque, lost in thought.
Caroline interrupted his thoughts. ‘I’m done. Cats in bed, doors locked. Ready for bed?’
She didn’t get an answer immediately so she sat down at the table opposite him and waited.
Peter cleared his throat and looked up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. ‘This cheque.’
‘Yes.’ Caroline’s heart beat a little faster.
‘This cheque. Aren’t they kind? So kind.’
‘Yes.’ A powerful feeling of foreboding took possession of Caroline. She waited for the words she guessed intuitively might be coming.
Slowly and deliberately Peter said, ‘I truly believe I cannot abandon these people for the sake of my own safety.’
Caroline swallowed hard. Surely he wasn’t going to say … but in her heart of hearts she knew he would …
Peter took a deep breath and said quietly but yet very firmly, ‘I must go back. This money has to be used wisely, and who better than myself to do that? They were so brave caring for our children like they did. They don’t deserve for me to walk away and abandon them.’
‘I see. And what about me? What about the children? Do you want them to go back?’
‘They must not go back.’
‘Then neither must I. I’m not abandoning them, not right now. They’re far too fragile.’
Peter nodded. ‘That’s what I had in mind. I’ll go back by myself. Leave you and Beth and Alex safe at home, picking up the threads. I’ll come back when the twelve months are up, as we promised.’
It had never entered Caroline’s head that he might want to go back, but she realized he must, and she dreaded him leaving her. She got to her feet, trembling with a mixture of fear and bitter disappointment. Peter stood up, held wide his arms and she went gratefully into them. He held her close without speaking.
Eventually Caroline stirred and reached up gently to kiss his lips. ‘Of course I ought to have guessed you would. I was so glad to be safe I didn’t think beyond getting home. This money will make such a difference to them. Running water, endless improvements, chairs in the church, a school to open. Of course you must go back.’ She gripped tight hold of him and added, ‘You take my love with you. I knew when we married I’d bound myself to a courageous, honest, upright man and now I’ve to pay the price. I love you! So very much.’
That night Anna slept the sleep of the just in her cosy bedroom under the eaves at Grandmama Charter-Plackett’s. Before she fell asleep she dwelt on the happenings since she’d come to Turnham Malpas only a handful of months ago. It had been a much happier experience than she’d imagined it would be, except for Gilbert. His effect on her had gone deep and she could still feel the powerful stirrings of longing for him in her heart. But without a shadow of a doubt that had to be scotched. Then memories of all the events for the New Hope Fund filled her mind. They were worthy, these people she’d been directed to shepherd for a while. In fact, they couldn’t be better, not a single one of them, and if she’d done nothing else she’d got Paddy settled. She turned over, pulled the sweet-smelling sheets and blankets more closely round her shoulders, and was grateful for good friends and kindly neighbours in a village which had not been left behind by the centuries as she’d first thought, but was up there in the vanguard of things, leading the way. Goodnight, Turnham Malpas. Goodnight! She suspected they’d all sleep easier in their beds tonight now their very own rector was home. She hoped, one day, that she too might be revered by her congregation in the same way as Peter, and then she fell asleep, blissfully unaware of Peter’s decision.
available from
THE ORION PUBLISHING GROUP
The New Rector £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75282 750 2
Talk of the Village £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75282 751 0
Village Matters £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75282 752 9
The Village Show £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75281 549 0
Village Secrets £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75281 762 0
Scandal in the Village £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75282 677 8
Village Gossip £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75283 397 9
Trouble in the Village £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75283 760 5
A Village Dilemma £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75284 829 1
Intrigue in the Village £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75285 910 2
Whispers in the Village £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75286 498 X
A Country Affair £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75284 411 3
Country Wives £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75284 473 3
Country Lovers £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75284 258 7
Country Passions £6.99
REBECCA SHAW
0 75286 543 9
All Orion
/Phoenix titles are available at your local bookshop or from the following address:
Mail Order Department
Littlehampton Book Services
FREEPOST BR535
Worthing, West Sussex, BN13 3BR
telephone 01903 828503, facsimile 01903 828802
e-mail MailOrders@lbsltd.co.uk
(Please ensure that you include full postal address details)
Payment can be made either by credit/debit card (Visa, Mastercard, Access and Switch accepted) or by sending a £ Sterling cheque or postal order made payable to Littlehampton Book Services.
DO NOT SEND CASH OR CURRENCY.
Please add the following to cover postage and packing
UK and BFPO:
£1.50 for the first book, and 50P for each additional book to a maximum of £3.50
Overseas and Eire:
£2.50 for the first book plus £1.00 for the second book and 50P for each additional book ordered
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2005 by Orion.
This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books.
Copyright © Rebecca Shaw 2005
The right of Rebecca Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.