Will found it hard to see Serena like this. He liked solutions and there simply didn’t seem to be a way to fix this. Until, finally, he had an idea.
‘Serena, my lovely,’ he said, finding her lying quietly in the bath one evening.
‘Mmm,’ she replied, looking up at him with a faint smile.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he told her. ‘Let’s try for a baby.’
PART TWO
19.
JUNE 2015
Serena had always enjoyed the elements. She loved nothing more than pulling on an anorak and pacing through fields or running along a beach in the pouring rain, enjoying the wild exhilaration given freely by Mother Nature.
But even she had to admit that such weather was not ideal for a summer fete. Will and Alice had been incredibly organised about the preparations and every possible detail had been considered. But they couldn’t organise the weather.
Serena arrived at Alice’s house, a huge Georgian pile a short stroll away from the Vicarage. She’d never been inside but Alice had invited her for coffee before they made their way to the playing fields to set up for the fete. As expected, the interior of the house was immaculate. White walls (no scuffs), white sofas (no stains), white tiled floors (no marks). It was pristine, the only colour provided by vast and modern pieces of artwork dominating the walls. As Serena walked along the hallway into the state-of-the-art kitchen, following Alice’s upright back and shiny hair, she wondered if Alice was a natural perfectionist or whether, for some reason, she’d developed into one. Either way, it seemed to Serena that Alice held a tension about her, always present in her jaw, that couldn’t be healthy. Still, it wasn’t for Serena to tell her this and she now knew that, underneath the brittle exterior, Alice was actually a very kind-hearted person. She’d been an absolute brick about the fete.
‘I simply can’t believe this weather,’ said Alice, switching on the coffee machine, which made all sorts of impressive-sounding splutters. ‘The forecast said it was going to be fair,’ she added, clearly most put out that the weather wasn’t playing ball.
‘I know, it’s so typical, isn’t it?’ replied Serena, peering out of the windows as she accepted a tiny cup of espresso. The rain showed no sign of abating. ‘But the show must go on. We’ll just have to put up some canopies to protect the goods on show. We’d better tell the acrobat to be careful too. We could do without being sued!’ she laughed. ‘Will’s going to meet us there, by the way. He’s just finishing off a wedding interview with Fay Holland.’
‘Ah, yes, the gypsy family of Cattlebridge. He’d better make it a good service or old Mrs Holland will cast a spell on him! Every house in the village is brimming with dried lavender, as we all know she’ll curse us if we refuse to buy a bunch when we walk past her on the high street. So silly, but you never want to test these things, do you?’
‘No, you don’t,’ answered Serena, reminded of the supposed curse on the Vicarage. She considered confiding in Alice about it all, but she couldn’t bear the thought of another friend thinking she was losing the plot so she drained her espresso without mentioning it.
‘Shall we get going?’ she asked and, after attiring themselves in suitable raincoats, they traipsed out into the deluge.
The fete was a disaster. There was no other way to describe it. The turnout was dreadfully poor, with few villagers tempted to splash around a sodden field when they could be warm and dry at home or at least undercover in a shopping centre. Then there was an incident with a catering van serving undercooked chicken and sparking a salmonella scare (nobody would know until a little later whether this was justified – a nerve-racking wait for anyone who’d sampled a chicken burger).
To add to the calamity, the pony rides had to be cancelled, as the lady who owned the ponies didn’t want her prized possessions catching a cold, and the face-painter failed to turn up, meaning a small gaggle of young girls left the fete disappointed. Even the acrobat, the much publicised highlight, was a damp squib, turning up with his arm in a sling after showing off some of his tricks in the pub the previous evening. Will was unusually despondent and when the man attempted to walk the tightrope regardless and fell heavily to the ground (hurting, it seemed, his good arm) it was he who, resigned, drove the acrobat to the local Accident and Emergency Department.
Serena had decided it simply couldn’t get any worse when she heard Ashna shouting.
‘Get off me!’ she was yelling. ‘Get away! I hate you both! How did you even find me?’
Serena saw two men trying to grab Ashna as she fought them off with all her might, tipping her stall to the ground and covering the sodden grass with all her beautiful scarves and bedspreads. The men had to be her father and brother. How on earth had they found her? Serena, panicking, ran over and tried her best to extricate Ashna from the men, but she was no match for them and was shoved into the bushes for her trouble. By now, a crowd had gathered and a frisson of excitement was evident at this unexpectedly dramatic turn of events. The villagers watched avidly but not one of them stepped in to assist. Serena was desperately looking around for backup when she spotted Max and Pete storming across the field, barging the crowd out of the way and coming to Ashna’s rescue.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Serena muttered to herself, but this was just the beginning. Max and Pete managed to pull Ashna’s father and brother away for long enough for her to escape and she ran towards Serena, sobbing. Serena was just calming her friend down, planning to escort her away as soon as possible, when she saw that matters had turned violent.
Ashna’s brother, a giant of a man, had walloped Pete, who was now lying on the ground, winded. It wasn’t long before he was back up on his feet though, and he retaliated like the ex-convict he was, landing several punches. They were decent whacks, but Ashna’s brother proved resilient.
Max had been employing a more peaceful approach, simply trying to restrain Ashna’s father while shouting at the crowd to call the police, but all of a sudden he fell victim to the brother’s effective right hook. He was sent reeling and landed with a thud. And as he reached up to his bloody nose, a strange thing happened. He started to cry and shake, bawling like a baby. This seemed to take everyone by surprise – even Ashna’s brother. The crowd stared, open-mouthed, as Max continued to whimper.
Fortunately, at this moment the police arrived and soon Ashna’s father and brother were carted off in a van while a kindly policewoman took Ashna back to the dry warmth of the Vicarage so she could give a statement. The crowd began to disperse, with only a few glances still being cast in the direction of the weeping Max, and Serena – having dispatched Ashna and the policewoman – went to his side. Pete was there, ineffectually rubbing Max’s shoulders.
‘It’s okay,’ Serena said to Pete. ‘You head home and get the kettle on. I’ll help Max.’ Pete disappeared with a look of relief on his face. ‘Look at me, Max,’ said Serena calmly, and he did as he was told. She inspected his face. His nose was a little bloody, but not so bad, certainly nothing to warrant such an extreme emotional reaction. ‘You’re fine, Max,’ she told him, pressing a tissue to his nose. ‘Now take some deep breaths and then we’re going to walk back to the Vicarage, okay? Can you manage to walk?’
Max nodded, starting to calm himself at last. He hobbled along with Serena, a shadow of his usually hearty self.
Back at the Vicarage, Ashna and the policewoman were in the study and Pete, having boiled the kettle as requested, had taken himself upstairs for a shower to warm up and clean his own bloody nose.
Max sat down at the kitchen table, head in hands, while Serena made them both hot chocolate. She pushed a mug towards him, sitting down opposite at the pine table.
‘Max?’ asked Serena gently. Max had been looking anywhere but at her until now, but he bravely lifted his gaze to hers.
He said, ‘I feel such a fool. Such an idiot. You’re thinking I’m a total wimp, right?’
‘I’m thinking there’s more to this than meets the eye,’ replied Se
rena.
Max sighed. ‘Do you remember when you first met me? I arrived at the house without my overalls on and you couldn’t believe somebody so posh would be a painter and decorator?’
Serena nodded, still embarrassed.
‘Well, the truth is, I wasn’t always a painter and decorator. My father was a lawyer, my mother a GP. I’ve got several siblings – my older brother became an architect, one of my sisters followed Dad’s footsteps and became a lawyer and the other is a professional dancer. I’m the youngest and I always wanted to be a doctor like Mum. So I trained for years and specialised in general practice. I became a GP and was really happy in my job. Then I met Lara. My wife,’ he explained, and Serena raised her eyebrows, wondering where all this was going.
‘You’re married?’ she asked. For some reason she’d thought of Max as an eternal bachelor, cheerfully sporting the checked shirts he favoured (and clearly, by their appearance, struggled to iron himself), with just his lovely dogs for company.
‘Sadly, yes,’ he said, and his eyes again filled with tears.
‘Are you still together? What happened?’ asked Serena, imagining that perhaps she’d suffered some terrible tragedy and died or perhaps they’d endured a painful break-up.
‘She’s lucky she’s not in prison.’
‘Prison?’ she repeated, shocked. ‘Good heavens, what on earth did she do?’
Max scrunched up his eyes. ‘She tormented me, bullied me, pushed me down the stairs, hit me, slammed my fingers in the door, made me doubt myself until I had to give up my job, my friends, everything. Shit, I haven’t told anyone about this since I made a fresh start here in the village. Today, being punched, it just brought it all back. I hadn’t realised how much I’m still affected by everything that happened.’ Max paused.
‘You know the worst thing of all?’ he asked. ‘Nobody believed me. Even after the final incident, before I moved away, there was so much doubt. Even my family and friends doubted me. I mean, I’m not small and pathetic-looking, am I? No one could understand how I wasn’t able to stand up for myself. Especially as Lara’s about five foot tall and the most charming woman you’re likely to come across. But she was so clever. She eroded my confidence – and I’m usually a confident guy, as you’ve probably gathered by now. She did it so cleverly. Until, actually, I felt I deserved everything I got.’
Serena was desperately sad for Max. How horrendous to have endured what he’d been through and then have everybody doubt him.
‘What was the final incident?’ she asked.
‘She tried to poison my dogs,’ Max said, crumpling, and Serena pushed back her chair and wrapped Max in a firm hug as he sobbed and sobbed into her long blonde hair.
20.
SUMMER 2002
Serena was feeling much, much better. Her grief for her father, while still ready to pounce at inopportune moments, was largely under control. The turning point for Serena had been finding an old poetry book of her father’s, in which she’d found a scrap of paper written in his unmistakable calligraphy. She’d been home to visit her mother and while Stephanie endeavoured to produce some supper, Serena had ventured into Arthur’s study, finding it untouched and lifeless. She’d almost walked straight back out again, but a strong impulse had drawn her towards his books, in particular a tome by the name of Other Men’s Flowers. It was tucked within this that she’d found the scrap of paper. It was headed with the simple title ‘Butterfly’. Serena sat down in her father’s armchair to read it:
One day, I won’t be sitting in this chair.
I’m getting older, my heart and soul are shadows now
compared to those days before. It makes me think, from time to time, about what happens next. Will I sleep forever, like an
anaesthetised body never coming round, or will there be
something else? People talk about heaven, and seeing long-missed relatives again, but such a prospect irks me. I don’t
want to see the mother who deserted me, nor the man who failed to bring me up. No. For me, heaven would be to be alone, floating where I wish. A butterfly. A Red Admiral. For me, that would be bliss.
Serena had found her eyes filling with tears at the bittersweet poignancy of her father’s poem, but it was a gift as well. Since then, whenever she saw the distinctive Red Admiral, she smiled and greeted it: ‘Hello, Dad.’ It was the most enormous comfort.
Soon after Will’s suggestion in February, they’d started to try for a baby as well, and there was nothing like the promise of new life to assist in moving on. Nothing had happened instantly, but it didn’t bother her unduly. For one thing, they were distracted by their busy lives – Serena’s job as a translator, Will’s parish in Hither Green, their friends and hectic social life.
Meanwhile, her relationship with Luna seemed to be improving, in part as a result of their shared grief in the aftermath of Arthur’s death and also down to the fact that, having settled into a steady relationship with Seb, Luna was currently in very high spirits.
It was a Friday night and Will and Serena were meeting Luna and Sebastian for dinner. They were dining at Luna’s favourite eatery, Veeraswamy – an upmarket Indian restaurant on Regent Street.
‘Amazing to see you both,’ Luna gushed. Her eyes glittered and, as they all sat down and began ordering drinks, Serena caught sight of something else that was sparkling. She squealed.
‘Luna! That ring!’
Luna smiled a wide smile – the cat who’d got the cream. Will observed her with interest. She and Serena were still identical, but distinctive nonetheless. It wasn’t just that Luna’s lashes were long and spidery, enhanced by sooty mascara, while Serena’s were flatter and shorter. Nor was it that Luna’s lips were juicy and red, where Serena’s were pale and a little chapped. They were both beautiful – one natural, one oozing glamour – but to Will, it was their characters that, even when you caught a mere glimpse of them, really set them apart. Serena, always gentle, and her twin perpetually glittering, whether with fun or rage or danger.
Luna proffered her hand towards Serena, grinning proudly, and Seb wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
‘Call me a glutton for punishment,’ he smiled. ‘But I asked Luna last night if she’d do me the honour of being my wife and, as you can see, she said yes!’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful news,’ said Serena, reaching across to hug Luna, then Seb, while Will called the waiter back and asked to replace their drinks order with a bottle of chilled champagne.
‘Tell me all about it,’ Serena said, once all four glasses had been poured. And she sat back and listened happily to Luna’s evident excitement. This, thought Serena, could be the very making of her sister. Serena didn’t want to get married herself, but for Luna it had come to mean the world: total acceptance into the life of another person. Perhaps she’d always felt lacking, with a twin so different from her. Always seeking to fill a void.
Serena thought back to their childhood and, despite how difficult Luna had been, found herself feeling sorry for the moody child she remembered, who’d found Serena so disappointingly dissimilar to herself. Even as newborns Luna had been the more dominant (arriving first and weighing in two pounds heavier than her sister), but for all her supremacy, Serena suspected that what she’d always craved was for her twin to be more like her: to be someone she could gossip with, and with whom she could discuss friends and hairstyles and clothes and make-up. Someone she could be one with.
Perhaps the competitive side of Luna had developed after realising that close kinship she’d been promised in the womb would never come to fruition as they grew up. If she couldn’t be united with Serena, then she would be better than her. This neediness in Luna, coupled with her relentless competitiveness, had been exhausting for Serena. As she took another sip of champagne, she realised she was thrilled that Luna had fallen for Seb and found someone she could be soulmates with – not just because it meant her twin was happy at last, but also because it felt as though, for her, the pressure was off.
Serena caught Luna and Seb exchange a glance and there was a moment of tenderness between them. Yes, thought Serena. There was no doubt about it. Luna had found her perfect match and, as a result, it seemed she was definitely changing. For the better.
21.
JULY 2015
The start of the summer had been predictably changeable, but at last it seemed to have begun in earnest, not that this did much to lighten the general mood at the Vicarage. It seemed the fete had signalled the start of trouble for all the occupants of the house. Ashna had taken on a hunted look, her large eyes constantly watchful, even though her father and brother had been bailed on the strict condition of not going within five hundred yards of her. As well as being investigated for the assault on Max and causing an affray, they were suspected of new offences relating to forced marriage under the Anti-social Behaviour, Crime and Policing Act 2014. But Ashna was nervous – they knew where she was now, after all – and had retreated into herself.
Max was equally subdued and no longer sang as he worked around the house. Even Pete seemed a little quieter. And for Will and Serena, it felt as if there had been a seismic shift in the village. When they’d first moved to Cattlebridge, they’d expected to be received with hesitation: of course a new vicar had to work hard to win round the villagers. But it was as though, having started to engender support, the tide had suddenly started to turn against them. The disastrous fete hadn’t helped, but events the previous weekend seemed to have cemented the start of bad feeling.
In an attempt to throw himself into village life, Will had decided to take part in a local cricket match on the Saturday. The morning had gone well and he’d just got his fifty when he spotted Serena running across the pitch looking panic-stricken.
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