A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Caroline looked at Peter and he saw how troubled she was. ‘Children, if you give Mummy and me ten minutes I’ll come and play a game with you. Your choice.’

  ‘Lose Your Shirt,’ shouted Alex.

  Beth suggested Scrabble.

  ‘Not Scrabble, I don’t like Scrabble.’

  ‘That’s because you always lose.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You do!’

  ‘I don’t!’

  ‘Make up your minds. Ten minutes, then.’

  He closed the kitchen door after them and began clearing the table.

  Caroline asked, ‘Just how far shall we go?’

  ‘Play it by ear. They’re both intelligent; they’ll soon understand the whole picture. I’ve had a thought.’

  Caroline said, ‘Good. Because I haven’t.’

  ‘I think the photograph album is the best approach. We can casually find one of her and begin the explanation from there.’

  ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘You’ve nothing to fear.’

  ‘Haven’t I?’

  ‘No, why should you? I bear the burden of guilt, don’t I? They may never want to speak to me again, but that’s for me to cope with.’

  ‘Do they have to know everything?’

  ‘As I said, I’ll play it by ear. Go as far as they want to go. They know the mechanics. Believe me, Kate Pascoe has left no stone unturned in her sex education lessons. I know because she thrashed it all out with me before she started them.’

  Bent over the dishwasher filling the racks, Caroline almost groaned aloud with anxiety at the prospect. She turned to face him. ‘You must impress on them that they are adopted by you and me. That there’s no going back. That Suzy wasn’t able to keep them because she couldn’t cope, with her husband dead and three children already. Don’t let them think she didn’t want them, because she did. I think maybe I’m not ready for these revelations.’

  ‘Is one ever completely ready? For something on this scale? But what I shall emphasise is that the two of them answered your prayers as well as mine. I don’t want them to think Suzy and I foisted them on you. It was you who asked her for them, remember.’

  The doorbell rang. It registered with neither of them so at the second ring it was Beth who opened the door and found Georgie Fields on the doorstep, looking distraught.

  ‘Is the Rector in?’

  ‘Yes, he is, Mrs Fields. Will you come into the study and I’ll go and get him.’

  Georgie crept in to the study, where Beth invited her to sit down and went to find Peter.

  ‘That’s our game cancelled.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That was Mrs Fields at the door. I’ve shown her into your study, Daddy.’

  Peter put down the tablecloth he was folding and left the kitchen. He found Georgie sitting on the study sofa, weeping. Closing the door behind him, he seated himself at his desk and asked quietly, ‘Now, Georgie, what can I do for you?’

  Georgie couldn’t answer. All she could think of was coming back from Culworth in silence because she was so confoundedly mixed up about everything and then finding herself alone in the lounge with Bryn.… she sobbed again at what she’d done.

  ‘I’m sorry for interrupting when you’re busy. I don’t even know if I should have come. But I’m so mixed up. I can’t ever, ever forgive myself for what I’ve done.’

  Peter waited.

  ‘I could kill him, I could.’

  Peter waited.

  ‘I’ve made such a mess of things.’

  ‘There’s an answer to be found to most problems.’

  ‘Not to this.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I can’t’.

  ‘There’s nothing I haven’t heard about the frailty of human lives. The foolish, the downright evil, the absolute depths of depravity. I don’t expect for one minute that your problem is any more dreadful.’

  ‘It is to me.’

  ‘Ah!’

  Georgie dried her eyes. ‘I should never have come here. I can’t tell someone like you. Never. I’m an idiot, an incredible fool. I quite simply can’t tell you. I’ll go.’ She stood up.

  ‘That’s all right by me, but sometimes it helps to speak to an outsider. Gives a new dimension to things, don’t you know.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Anything said in this room is entirely confidential; I don’t even tell Caroline. You have my word about that.’

  Peter waited.

  ‘It’s Bryn.’ She sat down again. ‘It’s Bryn. Before he came back I was absolutely clear about Dicky. All I wanted was to get face to face with Bryn, sort out the business side of things, you know, the money side, get the divorce, marry Dicky and live happily ever after.’

  ‘And … what’s stopping you doing just that?’

  ‘Me. I’m stopping me.’

  ‘I see. How does Dicky feel?’

  ‘Well, that’s just it.’ ‘It’ was Dicky finding out that they were in her bedroom with the door locked when he came to start his shift. He’d been looking for her and as he had free run of the upstairs rooms he thought nothing of going up there to find her. He’d tapped on her bedroom door as a last resort and found it locked, and had known instinctively what was afoot. She and Bryn were sleeping in each other’s arms and they’d woken with such a jolt when Dicky had rattled the doorknob.

  ‘He’s … we’ve … Bryn and I have … slept together today and Dicky’s found out.’

  He’d stood hammering on the door, shouting and shouting. They’d both dressed and eventually Bryn had unlocked the door. Dicky must have heard the key turn because before Bryn could open the door he had pushed it open and was facing them, eye to eye, hands clenched by his sides. Georgie didn’t think she had ever seen Dicky so wild with temper. She’d honestly thought murder would be done. He’d looked past them and seen the bed so obviously slept in, and he’d given Bryn a stare which had made her blood run cold. His face was contorted with such fearful anger, such terrifying despair, such horror. She shuddered at the thought.

  Georgie heard Peter say something, but didn’t know what it was. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear.’

  ‘I said I’m so sorry to hear that. So sorry.’

  ‘So am I. I’ve run away to you because I’m so frightened. Just tell me what to do.’ She remembered how Dicky had stormed off downstairs, leaving her and Bryn in shock. She’d hurried Bryn down the stairs and out through the back, and then she’d gone to the bathroom and showered and changed and redone her make-up and tried to pull herself together but she hadn’t been able to face Dicky so, like a coward, she’d run to a safe haven hoping for some answers.

  She mistook Peter’s silence for an inability to give her an answer so she stood up again and made to leave. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you.’

  ‘Wait, just a moment. I can’t tell you what to do, that’s for you to decide. There’s nothing quite like removing oneself from a situation in order to get a perspective on it. Be honest, tell them or write them a note and tell them the truth of why you’re going. When you’re by yourself, think about what you want, not just for this year or next, but for the rest of your life. You won’t have the answer the first day and maybe not even the second but eventually you will. When you’ve decided, come back and be absolutely up front about your decision.’

  Georgie looked up at him. ‘Do you know, I think you’re right.’

  ‘People might think it’s running away from your problems, but it’s not. What it is, is taking charge of your life again. Go today, tonight, straight away.’

  ‘I will. Thank you. Yes, I will.’

  ‘God bless you, Georgie, I shall remember you in my prayers.’

  ‘Thank you for that.’

  Peter opened the study door for her and saw her out. He watched her walk away towards the Royal Oak and thought, what a mess human beings make of their lives. Then he thought about his own problem of the twins’ birth and knew he was no different from the rest of humankind. Dick
y had walked down the stairs knowing he was capable of murder. He imagined the feel of his hands round Bryn’s neck, sensed his own inhuman strength, slowly, slowly strangling him, almost felt Bryn’s body suddenly lack resistance as he collapsed at his feet. A grim smile crossed his face and a tear trickled down his cheek. He stood at the foot of the stairs gripping the newel post, trying to come to terms with what he’d found out. His mouth felt like a piece of arid desert, his teeth so dry they stuck to the insides of his cheeks. He could hear Trish and Alan talking, the sound of laughter from the bar, the clatter of cutlery and china in the dining room; none of it made any sense. Dicky felt black inside, emptied, voidlike. From upstairs came sounds of life, voices and movement. He couldn’t bear to be standing there so numb when they came downstairs, so he hurried to the storeroom and, leaving the door ajar, sat down on a case of something or other to brood and listen.

  But he heard nothing except scurrying feet and haste, the bolt shot back, the door open, shut and the bolt refastened, and Georgie’s feet climbing the stairs again. He remembered how he’d loved to massage those same feet for her when they ached after a day behind the bar. But there was one thing for certain: he, Richard Tutt, wouldn’t be massaging her feet ever again. When he could hear the water running in the bathroom, moving like an automaton he went to where he had hung his jacket, took it down from the peg, laid it over his arm, took hold of the knob of the door bolt and thought he could feel the warmth of her hand still there, so he caressed it for a moment, a lump rising into his throat as he did so, then he opened the door and left the Royal Oak, vowing it was for the last time.

  He flung himself down on the sofa in his tiny cottage living room, lying there for what felt like hours, filled with black despair. His mind racing and racing through what had happened, trying to find reasons, while all the time his imagination shied away from thinking of them in that bed, together, touching, thrilling … everything which had belonged to him now besmirched by Bryn. Such an agonising betrayal, he couldn’t believe Georgie was capable of it. But she was. He groaned out loud and wept.

  He woke when he heard Bel’s voice saying, ‘I’ve got away for half an hour, Dicky, love.’

  He didn’t answer her. There wasn’t anything to say.

  ‘She’s gone. There was this letter on the mat. It’s from her, I recognise the writing. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  It seemed only one tick of the clock when Bel came back in with the tray. She poured out his tea and pushed it close to him.

  Dicky picked up the cup of scalding tea and burned his lips trying to drink it.

  ‘Silly boy, it’s straight from the pot. Put it down. Have you read the letter? No, I can see you haven’t. You’d better read it. I can’t, it’s got your name on it. I’d like to know what’s happened.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No. I might be your sister but I’m not a mind reader. All I know is she’s packed her bags and gone. For a few days, I understand. I’ve been too busy in the dining room to get away any sooner. I do know she’s been to see the Rector and then come back and said she was taking a few days off. She didn’t tell me, it’s only what I’ve learned from Trish and Alan.’

  ‘She and Bryn have … slept together today.’ He spoke as though he was having to prise the words out of his mouth.

  Bel gasped with shock. ‘Oh, Dicky, love, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned that’s it. I’m finished with her. The love of my life. Over. Done. Finished.’

  ‘Oh, Dicky!’ She kicked off her shoes and lay back in the easy chair, lost for words. All she longed for was his happiness. His total happiness. And here he was, broken to pieces. Gently she prompted him into action. ‘See what she says in her letter.’

  Dicky handed it to her. ‘You read it.’

  ‘I can’t, Dicky, I can’t. I mustn’t.’

  ‘Read it!’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Do as I say.’

  Bel opened the letter and swiftly read it through.

  ‘Out loud!’

  ‘Out loud? But it’s private.’

  ‘See if I care. Read it, please.’

  Bel cleared her throat and in a shaky voice read out:

  Dearest Dicky,

  Can you forgive me for one moment of wrongdoing? It didn’t mean a thing to me, you’re all I care about. I’m so muddled. Peter said go away and think, and I am. But it’s you all the time.

  All my love,

  your Georgie

  Dicky snatched the letter from Bel and read it through for himself. ‘Hah! “I’m so muddled.” She’s not the only one. Muddled? I should say. So am I. I can’t understand the signals I’m getting. Does she or doesn’t she love me?’ Dicky’s voice broke as he asked that last question.

  ‘Oh, Dicky, I don’t know the answer to that one and neither does she apparently. Like she says, give her time.’ She went to get some biscuits from the kitchen, desperate for something to do to cover her distress. How could Georgie do this to him? Her loving, kindly Dicky didn’t deserve this. So patiently waiting for a divorce which never materialised and this was his reward. But sleeping with that creep, Bryn. God! How could she? How could she? Bel peeped round the kitchen door and saw that Dicky was still clutching the letter, lost in thought. He needed something to do. ‘They’ll be glad for you to get back to work; they were busy when I left. We’ll walk back together, eh? What do you think?’

  Dicky refused a biscuit, looked up at her and said, as though making a public announcement, ‘I, Dicky Tutt, am not setting foot in that pub again.’

  ‘Dicky! Don’t be ridiculous. You must.’

  ‘There’s no must about it. I’m not.’ He swung himself round on the sofa and laid his head on one arm, his feet not quite touching the other. ‘See yer.’ He put his arms across his chest with the letter still in his hand. Briefly she thought he looked as though he’d been laid out.

  Out of fright she said, ‘Dicky, don’t do this to yourself. The only one to lose out will be you. You’ve got to hang on to something. You can’t go back to that dreary, boring job you had, you hated it. In any case you’ve been too long away, it won’t be waiting for you, not now.’

  Dicky ignored her.

  ‘Do you hear me?’

  Dicky still ignored her.

  ‘Right, well, I’ve got to go. I’ll sleep here tonight, I’m not leaving you on your own. So if you want to go to bed before I get back, make up the sofa bed. Right?’

  Dicky nodded. Bel threw up her hands in despair and set off back to the Royal Oak with a heavy heart.

  At Glebe House Bryn had just been handed Georgie’s letter. Guy gave it to him with an amused smile on his face. Bryn didn’t give him the satisfaction of opening it in front of him.

  ‘A billet-doux from the wife, no doubt.’

  ‘Probably.’ He tossed it on the table without so much as a glance, but he knew whom it was from and longed to open it. He’d no idea what the situation back at the Royal Oak was, because Georgie had whisked him out in a trice after Dicky had seen them both. Bryn had a prickly feeling down his spine still, after that glare Dicky had given him when he’d twigged what they’d been up to, the two of them. My God, there was still the old magic there. He couldn’t help a satisfied smile, forgetting that Guy was still watching him from the door.

  ‘Looks to me as though the cat has been at the cream. Good luck to you, man.’

  Bryn waited for the door to close behind Guy and aimed a rude gesture at it. That Guy got more like his father every day. He opened the letter from Georgie and read:

  Bryn,

  I’m going away for a few days. When I come back I shall have made up my mind what I want to do. The situation is tearing me apart.

  Georgie

  In Bryn’s mind there was no quandary for Georgie: he, Bryn Fields, was the obvious and only choice. Women! Ah, well, nothing but good would come out of her being away.

  He turned his mind from Georgie and thought about the
men he’d seen in the village street earlier that day. A visit to the pub might prove valuable. He was skilled at turning a conversation in the direction he wanted it to go and he remembered that when he’d lived in the village, before Elektra, there’d been someone down Shepherds Hill who had a son in the council offices. What was his name? He dredged his memory and came up with Kevin. That was it, his mother called him ‘our Kev’. If Dicky was there, well, so what, he presented no serious threat with the pub full of customers, not likely.

  He heard Liz calling everyone for dinner. He sprang to his feet shouting ‘I’m coming’ and went downstairs to yet another of Liz’s beautifully prepared meals. He really couldn’t take advantage of their hospitality much longer. Maybe when Georgie came back she’d be ready for him to return to live above the pub.

  When he got to the bar he found his luck was in. There, to his total delight, was Kevin’s mother ensconced on the settle, everyone’s favourite seat because it gave such a good view of the bar. He stood in front of her and said, ‘Can I buy you a drink for old times’ sake? What will it be?’

  ‘Why, it’s you. Throwing your money about, aren’t you?’

  Bryn shrugged his shoulders. ‘So long as you’re on the receiving end I shouldn’t worry too much. Well, can I?’

  Kev’s mother nodded. ‘A double vodka, please.’

  ‘Orange with it?’

  ‘No, ta. I like it neat.’ Her small, brown, closely set eyes watched him march across to the bar counter. She knew only too well she wasn’t getting the drink for the good of her health; there’d be a catch somewhere. But what? she asked herself.

  She toasted him and downed half the glass in one gulp. ‘Excellent.’ Bryn could see he was in for an expensive night if he didn’t watch his step.