[Churchminster #3] Wild Things

by Jo Carnegie

  At Jack’s insistence, Beryl and Stacey were also on board, along with the Bellows, the Fox-Titts, Brenda Briggs, Lucinda Reinard, and of course, the three Standington-Fulthrope women. As they trundled London-bound in the slow lane of the M4, the atmosphere was still subdued, even though the prospect of a five-star hotel and glamorous ceremony awaited them later. People stared out of the window deep in thought, or whispered amongst themselves. Even the most optimistic in the group thought there was no way they could win the competition now. Too much had gone against them, no matter how hard they’d tried. Storm clouds gathered black in the skies above, a seemingly ominous foreshadowing of what was to come.

  But by the time they’d got to the outskirts of London, the mood had picked up a bit. Freddie had produced a bottle of champagne from somewhere, which was being passed around in plastic cups. ‘Cheers everyone!’ he said jovially.

  Muted ‘cheers’ echoed back.

  Freddie frowned. ‘Come on, chaps! Whatever happens today, we’re all in it together! And I for one am immensely proud of what we’ve achieved.’

  In the aisle seat next to Calypso, Clementine felt the first stirrings of more vigour than she’d felt in a week. ‘Well said, Freddie!’ she called back.

  Calypso nudged her. ‘Say something, Granny Clem,’ she whispered. ‘You’re like our leader, taking the troops into action.’

  Clementine stood up, holding on to the back of the seat so she didn’t fall over. The bus driver’s overtaking was rather erratic. ‘Freddie’s right,’ she said. ‘We should all be very proud of all our efforts over the last few months. I set the bar high and every one of you surpassed what I expected.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We may not win Britain’s Best Village …’

  At this Brenda Briggs looked pained, but Clementine pressed on.

  ‘But we will walk into that ceremony with our heads held high! Tomorrow is another day and we will live to fight it.’ Clementine held her plastic cup aloft. ‘To Churchminster!’

  ‘To Churchminster!’ everyone responded bravely. They all settled back in their seats, spirits temporarily renewed. Even if tonight was a lost cause, they might as well try to enjoy it.

  At ten past six that evening, most of the Garden Party were down in the foyer of the hotel, dressed to the nines. Freddie looked very dapper in a dinner jacket and bow tie, while all the women were done up in pretty evening dresses, clutching purses and pashminas.

  At a quarter past six Clementine, in a vintage Jaeger two-piece and gloves, looked at her wristwatch again. The Bellows and Calypso still hadn’t appeared.

  ‘Trust your sister to be late. Where are they?’ she murmured crossly to Camilla. ‘Our taxis are outside, we’re meant to be there in fifteen minutes!’

  ‘Do you want me to go and find out?’ Camilla asked, but just then the Bellows appeared at the top of the staircase, followed by Calypso. As everyone looked up gasps echoed round the foyer.

  Joyce Bellows looked stunning. Her hair had been cut into a shiny bob and coloured a deep chocolate brown. The thick-rimmed glasses had gone and her eyebrows had been plucked, showing off a beautiful face that looked twenty years younger. Smokey make-up accentuated her eyes, while a strapless black dress showed off youthful shoulders and an impressive décolleté. To finish the look, sparkly gems glittered at her wrists and ears, adding an air of sophisticated glamour.

  Brian led his wife down the stairs, looking immensely proud.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Joyce said as they got to the bottom, ‘I’ve been at the hotel’s hairdressers.’

  ‘Joyce, you look fabulous!’ Angie exclaimed.

  The vicar’s wife shot a grateful look at Calypso. ‘I’ve got Calypso to thank for that, she picked out my dress and high heels, and even did my make-up.’

  Calypso winked. ‘My pleasure, Joyce, I do love a good makeover!’

  ‘You look very nice, dear,’ Clementine told Joyce, mollified by the obvious joy on the other woman’s face. It was like she was suddenly a different person.

  As they all filed out, the doorman tipped his hat at Clementine. ‘Good luck!’

  Somehow she found a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  We don’t need luck, she thought as she climbed in the waiting car. We need a miracle.

  The ceremony was being held at the plush Grosvenor House Hotel, which was just off Park Lane. The line of Churchminster taxis pulled up at the start of a cordoned-off red carpet, from behind which a gaggle of photographers jostled and pushed to get the best picture.

  Inside, the main foyer was packed with people in black tie being plied with champagne by passing waiters. Camilla had already spotted one well-known TV presenter and a glamorous socialite holding court amongst a circle of ruddy-faced men. It was so exciting!

  With her endless legs and backless dress, Calypso was attracting enough attention herself. Through the sea of broad-shouldered outdoorsy types, she could see an extremely attractive man, standing by a stout grey-haired woman. Compared to the stuffed shirts around him the man was a breath of fresh air, with his funky fitted black jacket and skinny trousers, a narrow black tie tied casually at his neck. As she looked again Calypso took in the sexy dark eyes and hair, the three-day stubble.

  ‘Who’s that fittie over there?’ she whispered to her grandmother.

  Clementine looked perplexed. ‘Are you talking about a sportsperson?’

  She followed Calypso’s gaze and found herself looking directly at the head judge, Marjorie Majors. Their eyes met for a moment, then Marjorie looked away indifferently. Clementine felt her stomach drop. She turned and saw one of her old friends, Beatrice Field-Webber. A catch up with Bea would be a good distraction.

  But before she could take a step, a familiar sickly perfume enveloped her. Clementine turned to see Veronica in full-on crimson chiffon, her mouth a ghastly slash of red. Another woman was with her, in a muted navy-blue dress, her face make-up free. She looked very familiar … As recognition dawned, Clementine’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Standington-Fulthrope,’ said Pam Viner.

  Veronica burst out laughing at the expression on Clementine’s face. ‘Dear girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

  Clementine eventually found the power of speech. ‘What are you doing here, Pam?’

  Veronica spoke for her instead. ‘Why, she’s here for the same reason I am.’

  Clementine’s eyes swivelled back to Pam. ‘You’re from Maplethorpe?’ she gasped. ‘Why on earth didn’t you say anything?’

  Pam smiled pleasantly, as if they were just having a conversation about the weather. ‘Oh, that would never have done, I can’t imagine you would have been quite so obliging. Still, rather good luck we ended up filming in Churchminster, don’t you think?’

  Clementine’s mind was whirring furiously. All the information about Churchminster Veronica had on her website, the unflattering articles in the press … ‘You’ve been feeding things back about us!’ she said hotly. ‘You’re the mole!’

  ‘Mole, spy, call it what you will,’ said Pam. ‘I must say, you made it very easy for me.’

  No wonder she had been so friendly, always offering to help out. Clementine cursed herself for her lapse in judgement. But Pam Viner had just seemed so nice. Another thought occurred, making her feel sick. ‘That day on the village green, when the lorry reversed on to the grass. You told the driver to do that, didn’t you?’

  Pam’s eyes twinkled. It chilled Clementine’s blood. The smiling assassin, she thought.

  Calypso spoke for the first time. ‘Granny Clem, who are these people?’

  Her dismissive look didn’t go unnoticed by Veronica. ‘I see the undesirable gene has been passed down in the family,’ Veronica said pointedly.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Calypso started to say, but Clementine stopped her.

  ‘Don’t you dare bring my granddaughter into this!’

  ‘Why not? It’s clear all you Standington-Fulthropes are from bad stock. No wonder I had to give Edmund the heave-h
o.’ She paused, savouring the moment. ‘I did try with him, you know, but he was a lost cause. Poor creature, no wonder he came to such an unfortunate end.’

  Calypso was confused. ‘Great-uncle Edmund? The one who died of tuberculosis or something when he was young?’

  For a moment, Veronica actually looked shamefaced. Calypso looked at her grandmother. She had turned sheet-white, her liver-spotted hands shaking.

  ‘Granny Clem?’ she repeated. Clementine had never spoken much about her younger brother. The only photo Calypso had ever seen of him was a faded picture of an earnest-looking boy, holding a butterfly net in the garden of Fairoaks. He was an enigma; even their father Johnnie had known little about him.

  When Clementine spoke again, her voice trembled. ‘God knows why, Veronica, but that boy loved you! And then you threw him out like a discarded piece of rubbish when something better came along.’

  ‘How dare you!’ exclaimed Veronica. ‘Your family were the ones who had me blacklisted from society, I was a pariah for years.’

  ‘You blacklisted yourself, for what you did to Edmund!’

  Pam and Calypso exchanged glances, briefly united by not knowing what was going on. Hearing the raised voices, a few people standing nearby had stopped talking to each other and were leaning in, trying to listen.

  ‘I trusted you, Veronica! I trusted you with him.’ Clementine’s voice was strangulated with emotion. She stared directly into the other woman’s eyes. ‘You’ve got blood on your hands, Veronica Stockard-Manning! You might just as well have signed that poor boy’s death warrant.’

  Trembling, Clementine turned and walked away through the crowd.

  ‘How dare she?’ Veronica started to bluster. She looked at the onlookers, her fat face reddening with embarrassment. ‘It wasn’t like that, really!’

  The onlookers glanced away, disbelief and disgust registering on their faces. Grabbing Camilla, Calypso took off with her after their grandmother, but not before she’d emptied her glass of champagne over Veronica’s head – just for good measure.

  They found Clementine locked in one of the powder rooms, and after a few minutes of pleading, she finally let them in. Both girls were shocked to see their strong, upright grandmother so dishevelled and shaking.

  ‘Oh, girls, I’m sorry you had to see that,’ she wept, putting her arms round them both.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Camilla, close to tears herself. ‘What was that awful woman saying about Great-uncle Edmund?’

  Calypso was more direct. ‘Granny Clem, what on earth do you mean, she killed him?’

  Clementine sank down on one of the stools.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that here, with all those people around.’ She sighed and the girls could hear the grief in her voice. ‘Even after nearly fifty years it’s as raw as the day it happened.’

  ‘What?’ Camilla asked in a small voice.

  ‘It’s hard to believe now, but once upon a time Veronica Stockard-Manning and I were the best of friends.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Calypso. ‘But she’s a foul old cow! How could you have been?’

  Clementine smiled regretfully. ‘When Veronica was a young girl, she was a lot of fun. And really quite a beauty. All the chaps I knew pined after her, and quite a few of the girls, too.’

  ‘Were you at school together?’ Camilla asked.

  Clementine nodded. ‘We shared a dormitory, our beds were next to each other. Even though Veronica was a year younger than I was, we got on tremendously. She seemed to enjoy my company, and well, I liked being best friends with the most popular girl in the school. I was always rather tall and awkward-looking, you see, and it did wonders for my own social standing. You know how shallow young girls are.’

  Clementine blew her nose gracefully with a tissue, before continuing. ‘We were inseparable as teenagers, and one summer holiday Veronica came to stay with us at Fairoaks. We had a wonderful time, tramping through the Meadows in our long skirts, taking out the pony Father had bought me. But even then, I could sense something had changed with her. Veronica was very aware of her own charms, even from a young age, and when Edmund laid eyes on her for the first time – well, the poor boy had no chance. He’d always been a fragile child. Mother nearly lost him at birth and he never really recovered. But Edmund had a kind of innocent beauty about him, something Veronica obviously found attractive. And he was head over heels with her. I asked Veronica, and then pleaded with her to stay away from Edmund, I could see she would break his heart eventually. But the more I begged her, the more intent she became on snaring him. It almost became like a game for her, Veronica always did have a habit of getting what she wanted.’

  Clementine smiled bitterly. ‘We fell out and grew apart after that, but Veronica and Edmund continued courting. They really did seem very content together. I’d never seen Edmund so enraptured or happy before. He came out of his shell for the first time, and was living life to the full. I started to think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe Veronica really did love him. After all, my parents were perfectly happy, and it was widely expected that Edmund would propose to Veronica on her eighteenth birthday, having turned eighteen himself a few months earlier.’

  Her bottom lip trembled. ‘He was so happy when he came to show me the engagement ring. He’d hunted high and low for something, and had spent practically half his inheritance on the right one when he’d found it. I remember him telling me, “Don’t worry, Clemmie, you’ll find someone to love just as I have, one day. Then you’ll know the rest of your life didn’t matter before you met them”.’

  She shook her head. ‘Poor, naïve Edmund. I even got swept along with it: I telephoned Veronica the night before he was going to propose and tried to make amends. She was pleasantly sweet, assured me she had no intention of hurting my little brother. And, more fool me, I believed it.’

  Camilla and Calypso were transfixed. This was a whole side to their grandmother they had never known about.

  Clementine paused, reliving painful memories before carrying on. ‘Edmund travelled to Yorkshire to ask for Veronica’s hand in marriage and Veronica, who’d already humiliated him by making him get down on one knee and propose in front of her maid, scorned him for being so deluded in thinking anyone like him could ever have someone like her, and told him she had no intention of ever marrying him. She said, and I remember the exact words my brother told me, that she “wanted a real man and not a little boy”. I believe she mocked the ring for not being good enough, before sending Edmund away to the sound of her maid giggling.’

  ‘That’s awful!’ gasped Camilla.

  Clementine’s jaw clenched. ‘It turned out Veronica had a bet going with her new circle of friends – horrid, flirty vacuous types – to see who could get as many marriage proposals as possible. Edmund was the first of quite a few, I believe. Eventually Veronica went on to marry a ghastly army colonel who was years older than her. He was a bluff, bigoted chap who spent most of his time carousing in his London members’ club – nothing like Edmund. I believed Franklin Stockard-Manning died at the end of the seventies.’

  Clementine’s voice was empty, remembering. ‘There wasn’t much hope for poor Eddie after that, I’m afraid. He was completely broken-hearted, and felt that he was a laughing stock. As far as he was concerned, he’d laid himself bare to someone and they’d ripped him apart. Edmund lost all faith in the human race, and started drinking. My parents tried to get him help, but nothing worked. He wouldn’t even listen to me. He left home when he was twenty, and spent the rest of his inheritance money drinking his way round every seedy establishment in London. Poor Mummy and Daddy were heartbroken.’

  Camilla could hardly bear to hear what happened next.

  ‘Edmund was found, the day after his twenty-second birthday, in a grotty little bedsit in Paris. He’d choked to death on his own vomit. He had no worldly possessions, except the clothes he was wearing and a picture of Veronica on the bedside table. Because, despite all that had happened, he still l
oved her.’ The tears glistened in Clementine’s eyes again. ‘Veronica turned up to the funeral, swathed in fashionable black and playing the hysterical widow. Mummy and Daddy had her marched out, said it wasn’t fair to Eddie’s memory.’ Clementine laughed bitterly. ‘As if she hadn’t done enough already! Friends rallied round, but our family never was the same. The day we buried him in St Bartholomew’s, a little piece of each of us died as well.’

  ‘But why would Veronica do that?’ Camilla cried. ‘It’s so cruel.’

  Clementine gave a weary smile. ‘Because she could. I don’t think she meant for poor Edmund to kill himself, but Veronica must have known the power she held over him. You know, in all the years since, I have waited for an apology, even an acknowledgement of what happened, but nothing has ever come. Veronica has grown from a spiteful young girl into a malevolent old woman.’ She looked at them. ‘Melodramatic as it sounded, you can see why I accused her of having blood on her hands. I honestly believe that if he hadn’t met Veronica, Edmund would be alive today.’ Clementine’s lip trembled. ‘I blame myself. You see, darlings, if I hadn’t bought her home that summer none of this would have happened.’

  She broke down in fresh sobs again. Now that they knew about the bad feeling between Clementine and Veronica, Calypso and Camilla realized what enormous significance winning Britain’s Best Village had for Clementine. All they could do now was put their arms around her and try to console her – the way she had them many times before.

  Chapter 53

  BY THE TIME they’d all made themselves presentable again, most people were sitting down at their tables. The three of them descended the grand staircase into the main ballroom, Camilla and Calypso walking protectively either side of their grandmother. Physically and emotionally, the family had closed ranks. Even kind-natured Camilla had been left shocked and angry by the actions of Veronica Stockard-Manning, and didn’t trust herself to keep quiet if she saw the vile woman again.