He knocked on the back door and opened it wide, shouting, ‘It’s me, I’m back!’
Pat came into the kitchen. ‘Oh, it’s you. Hello, long time no see.’ She grinned at him, unsure about how enthusiastic she should be. Maybe he’d changed his mind since he’d been up in London and seen all those smart women.
Then he opened his arms wide and she went into them and they hugged each other. ‘By Jove, Pat, it’s good to be back. I’ve brought you a present.’
‘You shouldn’t have. What is it?’
‘Give me a kiss first.’
‘You and yer kisses. Sex-mad you are!’
‘Naughty but nice though, isn’t it?’
‘Go on then. But for real.’
‘Well, well, getting choosy are we now? This makes a change. What’s happened to the Pat who thought kissing meant a peck like in them nineteen-thirties’ films?’
‘You won’t get one at all if you don’t hurry up. Four days I’ve been without a kiss.’
‘I’ve a mind to make you wait.’
‘You won’t, ’cos you can’t wait to give me that present that’s digging into my ribs.’
He laughed and slapped her bottom for her and she wriggled away. ‘Not that, Barry, not that.’
‘Not what?’
‘Using yer ’and to me. I’m not having that.’
‘I was only having fun. I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘No, it didn’t hurt, but I’m not ’aving it.’
Barry looked hard at her and comprehension dawned. ‘You mean your Doug used to hit you?’
Pat’s eyes shut tight and she nodded her head.
‘The sod! As God is my judge I have never and will never hit a woman, and more especially you whom I respect. You need have no fear of that from me. Honest to God’.
‘I’m sorry, I know you won’t. I’m sorry I spoke.’ Pat swallowed hard and to divert his mind from his anger she tapped his pocket and asked, ‘Well, what is it then?’
‘I was going down Oxford Street and there was this chap with a suitcase open on the pavement and he was selling watches, five pounds with a free pen thrown in. He was having a shutting-down sale, so I got one. I think you’ll like it.’
He took the box from his pocket and watched her face as she opened it. He knew she’d tried to cover her disappointment when he’d told her the tale about the suitcase and he couldn’t wait for her to realise he was pulling her leg.
‘Barry! Oh Barry, you daft ’aporth. This came from a proper jewellers. It’s beautiful, really beautiful. My watch broke months ago and it wasn’t worth paying for it to be mended. How did you know I needed one?’
‘You looked at my watch a while back and I realised you hadn’t got one of your own, and I thought, one day I’ll buy her one she’ll be proud of. Here, let me put it on for you.’ He fastened it securely on her wrist and stood back to admire it. ‘There, what do you think to that? Perfect.’
‘It is, it’s lovely. Just lovely.’ She put the watch to her ear and listened to it. ‘It’s got a lovely tick. You shouldn’t have.’ Then to lighten things she began thumping him playfully. ‘Telling me it was from a man with a suitcase, you cheeky devil you.’ He twisted and turned, shouting his protests till she had him cornered by the kitchen door. Then he grabbed her and kissed her like she’d wanted in the first place.
‘Cor, Pat, you smell great. It’s real come-and-get-me perfume.’
‘It’s our Michelle, she bought it for me. Determined, she is.’
‘What about?’
‘You and me.’
‘Keen then, is she?’
‘Oh yes, she is. I don’t know about me though. Not yet.’
Barry kissed her and said, ‘Not another word. Wait till you’ve had that week away with me and we’ll see how we feel then.’
‘Cup o’ tea?’ Barry nodded. ‘How did the meeting go?’ She was admiring her watch while she said it. ‘You’re very generous, Barry. I’ve never bought you a thing.’
‘No matter. I’m glad you like it.’ He watched her fill the kettle. She was getting the milk out of the fridge when they heard footsteps. The door opened and it was Dean in his pyjamas.
‘Hi, how’s the exams going?’
‘Hello, Barry. Not bad, thanks. Can’t sleep for worrying though. Is there a cup of tea going?’
‘Yes, love. Won’t be a minute. Look what Barry’s given me.’ Pat held out her arm. The watch gleamed in the fluorescent light.
Dean whistled. ‘Wow, Barry, that’s great.’
‘Bought it from a fella with a suitcase in Oxford Street.’ His eyes twinkled at Dean.
‘You never did. That cost a bomb. It’s lovely, Mum.’ He talked about his exams for a while and then decided to take his tea to bed. Dean grinned and said, ‘Wouldn’t want to cramp your style, you two.’ As he was closing the door he added, ‘It’s like our Michelle says, and as the man of the house I agree with her for once. You two were made for each other.’
Pat went red and shouted, ‘Get off to bed, yer cheeky little devil!’ He hastily shut the door and they could hear him laughing as he went up the stairs.
‘I suppose I should be grateful your children want me here. Some chaps would meet nothing but resentment.’
‘Says a lot for you, I suppose.’
‘If we … er … you know … I wouldn’t want any more children. Yours will do for me.’
‘If we … er … yer know …’ she laughed, ‘I wouldn’t want any more either.’
‘That’s settled then.’
‘So what did ’appen at the meeting?’
Chapter 18
Rumours were rife in the village about the Roman ruins. In the Store on the Friday morning, Jimbo had the story ad nauseum. Most were of the opinion that the Show would have to be cancelled, others that Mr Fitch would cash in on the discovery and they’d be having coach parties coming to view the ruins and a reception centre built with a display and tea rooms, and public lavatories all over the place and …
‘Hold on a minute!’ Jimbo protested. ‘They were only discovered yesterday. Could be they’re so insignificant that they rescue some bits, put them on a shelf in a storeroom at Culworth Museum, fill in the hole and we hear no more about it, and all it’ll be is a dot on a map at County Hall. In any case, a few more tourists would be a good idea.’
‘Oh yes, and we all knows why. Why don’t you build some public lavatories just outside ’ere and then tempt ’em in ’ere and make even more money. The only one to do well out of it would be Mr Charter-Plackett.’
‘I say, that’s a bit under the belt.’ Jimbo was beginning to get angry. ‘What have I done to deserve that?’
‘Well, nothing really, but it just seems that at every turn, that chap up there and you is making money.’
‘I see. Well, there you are then. Two of the biggest employers in the district and still we’re at fault. It takes some understanding. Now, what can I get for you? Anything else? No? Right then, we’ll add up.’
When the irate customer had gone, the next customer in the queue said, ‘Take no notice, Mr Charter-Plackett. She’s only mad because her daughter wanted that receptionist’s job up at the Big House, but Louise Bissett got there first. It’s not you really.’
‘Thank goodness for that, I don’t like being persona non grata.’
‘Well, whatever that is, you’re not it. You’re lovely and we all love shopping in here. Brought life back into this village, you have and no mistake. How we’d manage without this shop …’
‘Store, please.’
‘This Store, I don’t know. Two pounds of best steak, lean as poss.’
‘Having a party?’
‘My daughter’s prospective in-laws are coming. Got to make a good impression.’
‘Well, you will with two pounds of best. As a token of thanks for your compliments, could I give you a box of after-dinner mints?’
‘Oh thanks, thanks very much – that’d be lovely. A right finale that’ll
be.’
‘All part of the service.’ Jimbo raised his boater and bowed to his customers. They gave him a round of applause and good humour was re-established.
Sylvia came in during the morning. Jimbo waited until she was his only customer and then he said, ‘Sylvia, can I have a word?’ He invited her into his storeroom and sat her on his stool, put his boater on top of a case of strawberry jam, folded his arms and said, ‘Well?’
‘She’s not back yet. This is the fifth day. I’m worried sick.’
‘How is he?’
‘In a terrible state. He’s supposed to be back in harness on Monday, but at the rate he’s going he’ll end up in hospital.’
‘Bad as that, is it?’
‘It is. I don’t know what to do. I keep thinking I should ring her, but Willie says no.’
‘No, I don’t think that would be right.’ He stood gazing out of the window deep in thought.
‘He won’t eat except bits and pieces when I insist. I’m not supposed to be working this week, but someone’s got to do something. I can’t just leave him, can I? I can understand her being hurt, but she knows, deep down she knows, there’s nothing in it.’
‘I wonder if I went to have a word?’
‘I don’t think he’ll see anyone. He won’t even answer the phone. Not that she’s rung, not while I’ve been there anyway. I asked him this morning if she’d rung last night and he just shook his head. He won’t ring her, you see; they seem to have this arrangement whereby they don’t trespass on each other’s ground. She’s made this decision so it’s her he has to wait for. Seems daft to me. They tell each other they’re both free to make their own decisions, but they’re not really; they’re like two halves of the same thing. You’d have a shock if you saw him.’
‘Hell’s bells. I’m beginning to feel quite angry with Caroline, letting him get like this.’
‘Well, I don’t feel that, but I do feel helpless. He’s such a dear man, such strong faith, devoted to the church, but without Dr Harris there he’s like a ship without a rudder. I think it’s guilt you know, for what happened. You know what I mean. And it’s the children, too. He’s missing them and so am I.’ Sylvia took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘Anyway, I’ll finish his shopping and get back.’
‘If things get desperate, let me know. I might be able to say something which will give him a boost. Such a delicate matter though, isn’t it?’
‘It is.’
Jimbo looked at her severely. ‘I sincerely hope Louise Bissett hasn’t been round.’
‘Oh no, she hasn’t, much to my surprise, but then she has stepped in up at the Big House. So sad about that receptionist, isn’t it?’
‘Dreadful. Beautiful, beautiful girl. I sometimes have great difficulty in understanding this world. However, by the sound of it I’ve got customers. Don’t forget – if you get in a fix, let me know and I’ll come across. Any time, can’t stand by and see him sink.’
Sylvia stood up. ‘Thanks for listening to my troubles. You’re most kind. I’ll get back to him.’
Around midnight on Sunday night, Peter, unable to sleep, went out into the garden. Caroline’s cats followed him out, tails up, twisting and turning around his legs, pestering for attention. He bent down to stroke them.
‘It’s no good, you won’t find her out here. You miss her too, don’t you?’ By the light coming through the kitchen window he could just see well enough to wander about the garden touching her plants, admiring the pots of bright pink geraniums she’d bought this year, loving the deep blue delphiniums she’d planted their first summer. ‘No country garden is complete without them, in any case I love them,’ she’d said. He went to inspect the low wall which she’d filled with nasturtiums, laughing to himself when he remembered her daily battle against an unexpected plague of caterpillars. God, how he longed for her to be home. Caroline, please come home.
Out of nowhere a decision burst into his thoughts. He no longer cared for all these ideas about not trespassing – hell, it was his marriage, his life, his children that were at stake! The parish would manage. He’d burn his boats and go. If he went he laid himself open to rejection but if he didn’t … if he didn’t he might lose everything. Maybe that was what she needed to see, that she was more than life itself to him. Yes, that was it. Intelligence and logic and agreements didn’t come into it any more. No, dammit! He would go up there, see for himself. He wouldn’t even tell her he was coming. He’d simply go. It couldn’t make matters worse; they couldn’t be any worse.
The practicalities of his decision raced round his mind. He’d have to let people know he wouldn’t be here, couldn’t just depart when he was officially back. Say he had a family emergency, which in truth he had. Heavens above, what was losing your wife, the only one he would ever have on this earth, and your children, other than an emergency? Contact the vicar in Culworth, let Willie know, rearrange the two evening meetings he had for this coming week, and the Friday morning school prayers. He could be away by lunchtime at the latest. He’d have to go by train. Then, God willing, he could drive them all back.
Peter went straight back into the house, showered, and set the alarm for six-fifteen. He slept soundly for the first time since she’d left.
*
Sylvia, who’d come in at eight as she usually did when she was working, was delighted at his decision.
‘You start making your phone calls, I’ll pack you a bag and I’ll take you into Culworth if you like. My car’s just been serviced so it’s not likely to break down.’
Peter couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘That’ll make a change.’
‘Rector! I love that car.’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not, not if it’s made you laugh.’ She flapped her hands at him, grinning. ‘Go on, get things organised.’
Despite his energetic endeavours he had the greatest difficulty in contacting the people he needed to speak to before he left. He seemed thwarted at every turn. By eleven-thirty he’d made his last phone call.
Sylvia insisted he had something to eat before he left. ‘You’ve had next to no breakfast and a bite to eat now will stand you in good stead. A big chap like you needs good solid food.’ He began to protest, he wanted to be off. ‘I insist, never mind those wretched sandwiches British Rail serve, all clammy and sweating in those plastic packets. Sit down, it’s all ready. And you’ve to let me know when you’re coming back and I’ll have everything ready for you all.’
His face changed and she saw him withdraw back into his anguish again. She could have bitten her tongue out. He pushed his plate away and stood up. ‘You eat this, I can’t.’ The phone rang. ‘I’ll answer that, it might be—’ He hurried to the study.
Someone in the parish had died. Finally, at half-past twelve, Sylvia left to get her car while he went to the bathroom to check his shaving kit and put it in his bag. The cats were watching him, as though they knew they were going to be deserted. They mewed and padded about after him, getting under his feet as he moved between bathroom and bedroom. Suddenly they left. He went to the top of the stairs carrying his bag and saw them race to the front door. It opened and there stood Beth and Alex, and behind them Caroline.
‘Dada! Spots going. Beth better now.’ She pulled up her T-shirt so he could see her chest. ‘Look!’
‘Dada, Dada, look Granda buy Alex boat, look Dada.’
Caroline and Peter looked gravely at each other, he from the top of the stairs, she from the hall. In the soft light they couldn’t quite read one another’s thoughts but their eyes devoured each other, measuring, weighing up, estimating the ravages of the last week. She was alarmed by his appearance; he was drenched with relief by hers.
To cover his shock he spoke to the children first.
‘Hello, darlings, have you had a good holiday? Daddy is pleased to have you back.’ When he reached the floor of the hall he put down his bag and hugged the two of them, kissing them and admiring Beth’s receding s
pots and Alex’s boat. They rushed off to look for Sylvia, leaving him and Caroline to greet each other.
‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘Actually I decided in the night I would go up to Northumberland, but I got delayed. Someone chose to die, and things … and …’
‘I’m glad they did. We’d have looked pretty silly, you up there and me down here.’
‘Yes, we would. Very silly. You’ve come back then.’
‘Of course. I made up my mind in the night. I thought, There he is, that darling man of mine, and he’s wanting me and I’m wanting him and I’m going to him. I could see you, for some daft reason, in the garden by the nasturtiums laughing about the caterpillars. Stupid, aren’t I? And I wondered how my garden was and … and whether you were well and that … that sort of thing.’
‘Whatever time did you leave?’
‘I got up at five and packed like a maniac and the children wake early anyway, so we set off. We’re dying for something to—’ The door opened and in came Sylvia, her face alight with relief.
‘You’re back!’ Sylvia, who’d always maintained a certain reserve in her relationship with Caroline, opened her arms wide and went to hug her. ‘I’m so glad, so very glad you’re back.’
Caroline embraced her and said, ‘So am I.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea, something to eat?’
‘Oh yes, please, you’re my saviour. Thank you.’
Sylvia went to the kitchen to greet the children. Caroline stood close to Peter. For the moment she couldn’t kiss him or hug him; their estrangement had been so severe, they’d have to come to that later that night when they were alone, but she touched his face with her fingers. ‘What have I done to you? My beloved darling.’
‘Nothing your being here won’t heal.’
Her eyes intently searched his face, looking warily for his reactions. She said, ‘Mother told me off – called me a fool. She was right. Said I didn’t deserve a man like you. Said it was only idiots who ran away from love. Said you are her bestest son-in-law to date, and if I ever do this again she’ll turn me straight round and send me back.’
The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 18
