They drove a couple of miles in silence.
‘You hit him.’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t believe it! Why? What did he say?’
‘I’m not telling you.’
‘You’re mad, Barney! You can’t go around punching people. You’re a clergyman, for God’s sake! What happened to turning the other cheek?’
He made no reply. What have I done? she thought. He could be had up for assault. Isabella had always assumed it would be wonderful to have men fighting over her. Now she just felt sick and hollow. I can’t make you faithful to me, he’d said, but I can make you very, very sorry if you’re not. Would he turn out to be one of those terrible possessive monsters? She pictured him socking his parishioners at the church bazaar because she flirted with them. It was too awful to contemplate.
But the terrible thing was that, as the miles went by, she started to find it funny. Luke’s legs sticking out behind the sofa. Barney staring down innocently. Camilla clamping the peas over Luke’s face to shut him up. Before long she was giggling out loud.
‘You’re outrageous, Barney!’
‘We’ll make a lovely couple, then.’
CHAPTER 19
Saturday morning came. Annie felt sick with dread. Something had changed that previous Wednesday and she knew she would spend the afternoon alert for clues, trying to read something in Will’s manner or tone, some difference that would tell her how soon the whole thing would be over. I mustn’t let him see, she told herself. It’ll drive him mad. He frequently cursed her for being too apologetic and placating. ‘I’m asking what yon want,’ he’d snarl. ‘Stop trying to guess what I want the whole fucking time.’
He was waiting for her at Newcastle station as usual, but his first words confirmed her fear: ‘It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we head out to the moors?’
‘OK.’
As they drove out of Newcastle Annie puzzled anxiously. Why the moors? Did he want to talk? They usually went straight back to his house, barely making it out of their clothes or up the stairs before falling on one another. But maybe he was just planning a spot of alfresco sex.
‘Everything all right, Annie?’
‘Oh, yes. Thanks.’
They were out in the countryside now. The narrow twisty roads and hills were beginning to make her feel queasy. At last he pulled up and they got out.
‘Beautiful,’ she said, taking a deep breath. Not a moment too soon. Her knees were trembling.
The sky was full of larks glorying in the sunshine. New bracken was uncurling fresh and green against the old heather. They began to walk. Edward always came armed with an Ordnance Survey map and compass when he set off for a stroll. Annie grinned at the thought and tucked her hand through Will’s arm. He smiled down at her and led her off the path towards some rocks and gorse bushes. Her heart pattered. Sex, not serious conversation. It would be all right. His hand was already burrowing under her skirt. She was gasping by the time they reached the rocks. He pulled her down and started kissing her. She clung to him in relief.
‘What are you doing next Wednesday?’
‘This, I hope,’ she replied.
‘It’s my birthday. Spend the night with me, for once.’
‘Oh! I –’
‘We’ll find some hotel in the middle of nowhere, have dinner, get pissed and spend the whole night . . .’ She gasped again – that vibrato! – ‘. . . doing this.’
‘But I can’t. Someone’s bound to notice I’m not there and –’
‘Tell them, then.’
‘I can’t possibly tell them!’
‘Please.’ He was smiling. Joking. He had to be joking.
‘Don’t push me!’
His fingers slid away. ‘OK.’
She watched him anxiously to see if she had offended him. He leant down to kiss her again, then stopped. She saw one of those quick mood changes she dreaded.
‘No. No, it’s not bloody OK. If I mean anything to you, spend the night with me. Tell your friends about us.’
‘I can’t! You must know I can’t.’
‘Then it’s over. This isn’t a relationship, it’s a bad habit. I’m sick of being your dirty little secret.’
The skylarks sang in the silence. Annie tried in vain to think of a way out, some way she might escape for a night without anyone knowing, some way to explain about Will.
‘But I thought this was what you wanted,’ she said.
‘Not any more. I feel used. I’ve had enough.’
She closed her eyes. It’s not fair! she wanted to cry. You can’t do this – present me with an impossible choice so that I’m the one who appears to be finishing it.
‘Oh, drop the fucking martyr act,’ he said.
‘But –’
‘You can’t go on like this. You don’t know what you believe, you don’t know what you want. You think if you do nothing, everything will –’
‘I was all right till I met you!’ she burst out.
‘Yeah, yeah. Riddled with doubt and desperate for sex.’ She sat up and pulled her skirt down with a sob. ‘Just admit you don’t want to be ordained. Say it.’
‘Stop trying to make me choose between God and you.’
‘Why? You can’t have everything, honey child.’ He lay down and closed his eyes.
She stared at him numbly. It was unworthy of him, this kind of dishonesty. If he wanted to end it, why didn’t he just say? Surely they could part sweetly, reasonably? Why was he making it all her fault?
He opened his eyes suddenly. ‘Well? No comeback? Nothing you’d like to add? It’s over?’ His eyes seemed to be hunting for something in her face.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You always are, Annie.’
‘Shall we . . . Do you want to go now?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘unless you fancy a “last ride together”, as Browning has it.’
‘Don’t!’ She got to her feet. ‘Don’t joke about it.’ They walked back to the car in silence.
‘Look,’ he said, as he dropped her at Newcastle station. ‘I didn’t mean to be this brutal. Come back if you want to. If you manage to sort yourself out.’
Annie made her way slowly back to college up the steep path along the riverbank which led to Palace Green. She was forced to rest half-way on a bench. It’s as if I’m ill, she thought. Her energy had drained away and there was an ache in her chest. She half laughed. This is why people say your heart is breaking. I can feel it. Not breaking, though – tearing. An unbearable slow rending of fine silk. She had not known grief could be so physical. Tears, shivering, sickness. I am ill. Sick at heart. Will, I want you so much.
Come back if you want to. He’d opened the door again a fraction at the last moment. Supposing he wanted a serious relationship, something more than a bad habit? Had he been implying that? It was a frail hope. She couldn’t, for instance, go back to teaching on the strength of it and look for a job near Bishopside. He might turn round and say he wasn’t interested. Come back if you manage to sort yourself out. I can’t sort myself out! she sobbed to herself. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be choosing between. It wasn’t as though he’d asked her to live with him. Perhaps if she got a curacy near Bishopside . . . But at once her conscience shrieked. She wouldn’t be able to live with that degree of hypocrisy.
She sat for a long time with these thoughts, but at last a dull misery settled over her. No, he’d had enough, and for some reason he was unable to take the responsibility for ending their affair. She tried to summon the energy to walk the rest of the way back to college. She could almost have stretched out on the bench and slept, but she forced herself to her feet.
Muriel was in the hallway examining the noticeboard. ‘Heavens, you’re looking pale, Annie. Are you feeling all right?’ The nurse’s watch jiggled on her broad bosom.
‘Actually, I’m feeling a bit . . . It must be something I ate.’
‘You poor old thing.
’ Muriel gave her a quick hug. ‘Why not go and lie down?’
‘I think I will.’ They went up the stairs together.
‘I hope you’ll be well enough to hear Edward preach tomorrow,’ said Muriel. ‘You won’t want to miss that.’
Annie forced a smile as she unlocked her door. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
She stood in her silent room. That’s it. It’s over. Now I must skulk back to God again. But she was too weary to repent. Too weary to weep, even. She lay down on her bed and slept.
The next morning she felt worse, if anything, but she set off with the rest of her Coverdale group to the church on the marketplace to hear Edward. The fine weather had vanished. Wind buffeted the City, tearing down tender green leaves and whirling them along the streets in a parody of autumn. Blossom swirled in the gutters. Annie could still hear the wind bouncing off the church windows while Edward preached.
It was a well-constructed sermon. Three points all beginning with R. Annie would have found it easy to listen to if she weren’t having to fight back waves of nausea. Edward was boisterously commending God’s forgiveness to the largely undergraduate congregation. Why is this church so warm? Annie fretted, struggling out of her coat. I must be ill. Whatever had she eaten?
Then she felt a white hot bolt of fear. What if I’m pregnant? For a second Edward’s voice seemed to be booming down a long tunnel. No. I can’t be. Of course not, she realized in relief. Will was a doctor and conscientious to the point of paranoia about condoms. The fear receded, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. She focused guiltily on Edward again, who was saying, ‘Let me end with a story.’
He told them about a pastor with a poor widow in his congregation who couldn’t pay her rent. Knowing that the woman was living in dread, the pastor called round with a gift of money so that she could pay her landlord. He called several times but got no answer. The woman was in all the time, but so sure it was the landlord that she was too terrified to open the door.
‘And aren’t we like that sometimes?’ concluded Edward. ‘God comes knocking at the door of our lives to bring forgiveness, to pay our debts for us, but we’re too scared to open up and let him in.’
The words thudded home like an arrow into a target. That’s what I’m like. Cowering away from the eternal Landlord. Then she felt again what she had experienced the morning she had visited Bishopside: the loving eye of God on her. He had been there all the time, watching, waiting, totally absorbed in Annie Brown and what she would do with her life. And what could she do but offer herself back to him? He had called her and she would try to be faithful.
She managed to hold on to herself until the last hymn:
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth.
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide.
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.
All around people were singing, ‘Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness’. She let it bear her along, feeling the tears streaming down her cheeks and Ted’s comforting arm round her shoulder.
He walked back to college with her, leaving the others in the throng drinking coffee.
‘It’s just . . . I’ve felt so far from God recently,’ Annie tried to explain. ‘And that story about the widow and her rent . . . That’s me. I find forgiveness so hard to believe in.’
‘Ah, now that’s your Nonconformist roots,’ said Ted, who had been brought up a Baptist. ‘You believe God loves you out of a grim sense of duty, but you know he doesn’t really like you.’
Annie gave a reluctant giggle. ‘Exactly. I feel so unworthy.’
‘Well, we all are.’
I really am, though, she thought. They walked on a little in silence.
‘But you feel things have been set right now?’ he asked, after a while.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. It’s over. Perhaps that was what Ted was really asking. She feared he’d known about Will all along, although she couldn’t work out how. He gave her a hug.
‘Well, your friends like you too, Annie.’
‘I sometimes think they wouldn’t if they knew what I was really like.’
‘You underestimate us.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
They were back at college. She was feeling sick again. Ted invited her for coffee but she excused herself and went to lie down. She started to feel guilty about Will. What if he were waiting for some kind of explanation? I ought to tell him I’ve decided to go on with my training, she thought. I’ll write. But would he think that was cowardly? She knew she should explain face to face, but she was scared he would demolish her newly recovered faith. He was too clever for her. Her sense of vocation always withered under his scathing green eyes. I’ll plan what to say, she decided as she curled up on the bed then tried to banish it all by retreating into her novel, but it was impossible. She couldn’t bear her heroine’s happiness. It’s all right for you, Isabella Deane. You’ve got your man. Even though Annie knew what Isabella didn’t – that Barney was impossible to live with and the marriage was destined for an early shipwreck – she couldn’t help feeling jealous. Libby howled in her kennel for Will. That sweet, ruthless lovemaking, those languorous, oil-drenched massages. The grace of God was a Lenten fast in comparison.
Her friends were starting to worry about her again. Even Tubby noticed something was wrong.
‘Gosh, Annie, you’re looking frightfully peaky.’
She mumbled something about a tummy bug. If she was honest she was beginning to get anxious herself. At least she wasn’t pregnant. Her period had arrived. Never before had she greeted it with such a cry of welcome. But why was she feeling so wretched? Not ill exactly, just sick and tired. She had to leave one of her exams to throw up. Only mint imperials seemed to keep nausea at bay. She munched her way through packets of them. It must be misery, she decided. Misery and stress. She still hadn’t found the courage to contact Will. A week and a half had passed. What if he turned up suddenly and demanded an explanation?
I didn’t even send him a birthday card, she thought one morning as she crept into morning prayer. Her lip trembled at the thought. She gave Edward a wavering smile and sat beside him. The chapel felt stifling. The pews faced each other across a central aisle and Annie felt as though everyone opposite was watching her. She slipped off her cardigan, but could still feel sweat forming on her forehead. The service dragged. They all stood for the Creed.
‘“I believe in God, the Father Almighty”,’ boomed Edward beside her, refusing stubbornly to turn east like everyone else. She ended up murmuring the words into his sleeve. The phrases seemed to swirl and roar around her. The floor tilted and she reached out to clutch him.
She was outside, lying on the chapel lawn looking up at Edward and Muriel. They were fanning her clumsily with copies of the Alternative Service Book.
‘What . . . ?’
‘You fainted,’ said Muriel soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. Just lie there till you feel a bit better.’
Annie closed her eyes.
‘I’m going to call a doctor,’ said Edward threateningly.
‘I’ll go this morning,’ promised Annie. ‘I’ll be OK in a minute.’
‘Hah!’ said Edward. ‘I’ll take you in the car.’
In the end she managed to fob him off. She walked to the doctor’s, sucking yet another mint imperial. I’m getting addicted to them, she thought. Fancy fainting like that! clucked her mother’s voice. Annie felt extremely foolish. She’d still been lying on the lawn as the service ended and everyone poured out and went to breakfast. Muriel had explained over and over again like a recorded message, She just fainted, that’s all. She’s all right now.
But am I, though? What if something serious is wrong? She tried to brush the worry aside. The doctor would be able to tell. Just stress, probably.
It was a woman doctor, fortunately. ‘Come in. I’m Dr Buchanan. What can I do for you?’
Annie sat. �
��Um, well . . . I’ve been feeling a bit poorly. Sick. And exhausted. Possibly something I ate. I can’t seem to shake it off. And then I fainted this morning . . .’
The doctor was watching her assessingly. ‘Are you always pale?’
‘No, I’m . . .’
‘Sick, you say? Have you actually been sick?’
‘Once, but I feel sick . . .’
‘And tired?’
Annie nodded.
‘Are you getting enough sleep?’
‘I can’t seem to stay awake, funnily enough.’
‘No chance you could be pregnant, I suppose?’
Annie flushed. ‘I can’t be.’
‘Well,’ said the other woman, with a friendly smile, ‘if you’ve been having sex there’s always a possibility.’
‘But I’ve just had a period.’
‘Doesn’t prove anything, I’m afraid. Some women get breakthrough bleeding for the first few months.’
Annie stared aghast. ‘But I can’t be!’ She heard her tone of voice saying the opposite. The other woman raised an eyebrow. ‘But he’s a doctor!’ she burst out.
Dr Buchanan’s lips twitched. ‘Even doctors are fallible. What type of contraception were you using?’
‘Condoms.’
‘With spermicide?’ Annie nodded. ‘Hmm. That’s usually pretty reliable. Why don’t you hop up on the couch and I’ll have a feel of your tummy?’
Tummy? thought Annie as she climbed up. What happened to abdomen? This can’t be happening. The doctor’s cool hands pressed and stroked.
‘Hmm. Can’t feel anything.’
‘You mean . . . ?’
‘Might just mean it’s too early.’
Annie sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. ‘Can you . . . do a test, or something?’
‘I could. But you won’t get the results for several days. Why not buy one of those home testing kits? Any chemist’ll sell them. The sort with a stick thingy you wee on. They’re the best. It’ll tell you in a couple of minutes.’
A stick thingy to wee on, thought Annie numbly.
‘Then at least you’ll know,’ said the doctor. She had crossed back to her desk and was scrawling on Annie’s notes. ‘If you are pregnant come back and we’ll have a chat about what you want to do.’
The Benefits of Passion Page 21
