There was such finality in his voice that Bryn was forced to believe he meant it.
‘I walked out after I’d opened the bedroom door and seen what I saw, and I said to myself, “I’m leaving the Royal Oak for the last time.” I’ve spent the happiest time of my life in there these last four years, but they’ve come to an end. I know now you can’t expect lifelong happiness.’
‘But they need you. You and your jokes. You’re good on the stand-up comic bit, much better than I ever let on to you. It was jealousy made me object to you doing a turn, sheer jealousy. They need you still. Georgie needs you.’
‘No. Not any more.’ The last of the sandwiches consumed, Dicky lay down again. He closed his eyes and ignored Bryn. Bryn stood up and looked at Dicky thinking, he might say that now but wait till Georgie comes home. He’ll change his mind. At least Dicky looked less of a dead man than when he’d come in. ‘I’ll go, then, I’ll leave Georgie to persuade you. I can’t do any more than say what I’ve said.’
Bryn closed the front door behind him thinking, he’ll come round to my way of seeing it, he can’t do any other. By tomorrow, that’s right, by tomorrow he’ll be feeling better when it’s sunk in that I mean what I say. He didn’t know how wrong he was.
Georgie came home at lunchtime two days later, her first priority being to speak to Dicky as soon as time would allow. But of course he wasn’t working. ‘Trish, where’s Dicky?’
‘Well, he hasn’t been to work since the day you left. Bel says he won’t come.’
‘Won’t he, indeed? I’ll soon sort him out with what I’ve got to tell him. Soon as this rush slows and you’ve had your lunch, I’ll buzz round there to see him.’
‘Don’t tell Bel. She’ll likely bite your head off.’
‘Ah, I see. Right. Mum’s the word.’
So Georgie slipped out quietly by the back door at about half past two and sped down Church Lane to Glebe Cottages. There was no need to use her key, the door was unlocked. The living-room curtains were drawn and when she peered through the gloom she saw Dicky lying on the sofa in his dressing gown. ‘Dicky, what’s this? Still not dressed. Are you ill?’
There was no reply. Dicky could have been waiting for the undertaker he was so still; not even by so much as a flutter of his eyelids did he show recognition of her presence.
‘Dicky, love.’ Georgie bent over him to kiss his cheek. Which she did, but it was like kissing a marble statue. ‘Dicky! I’ve come to tell you that I’m still divorcing Bryn and marrying you like we’ve wanted all this time. Come on, love. Stir yourself.’ She stroked his hair in the way she’d always loved to do; his thick, springy hair, so extravagant on a man of his size. ‘Come on, love, speak to me, your Georgie. They’re all wondering where you are. Bel says you won’t go to work. Now that’s not right, is it? You know how we depend on you.’
Dicky heard but chose not to reply.
‘I’ve done my thinking, love, and of course I know and you know that we were made for each other. You and me. Together. Married. A good business. Equal partners. Like we said. Perfect. Just beautiful.’
At the words ‘perfect’ and ‘beautiful’ Dicky gave a choking kind of groan so full of anguish that Georgie’s eyes brimmed with tears.
‘Oh, Dicky! I know what wrong I’ve done you, a terrible wrong, worse than I would ever have thought possible of myself, a moment of madness I hope you can forgive me for. Please, Dicky, please forgive me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You must. You must. Please.’ Georgie knelt beside the sofa resting her forearms on the cushions alongside Dicky. ‘Please, love.’
‘Just go away. You betrayed me. The thought of you with him …’ He groaned again. ‘I can’t bear it. Go away. Back to Bryn.’ His right arm flicked sharply at her arms where they rested on the cushion beside him and the glancing blow made her take her arms away from his side.
‘Dicky!’
‘I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in all my life. Like first love. The love of a much younger man, really. Such passion I had for you, you were the light of my life, the beat of my heart. You knew that and still you did what you did. You dirtied our love for each other with that man. It’s finished.’
‘Finished? What do you mean? Finished! You can’t mean that.’
‘I do.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
Dicky sat up. ‘Don’t lay the blame on me by belittling how I feel. It is not ridiculous, it’s the truth, Georgie, the absolute truth. I told Bryn and I’m telling you, I am not going back into the Royal Oak ever again.’ He lay down and closed his eyes once more.
‘You’ve seen Bryn? What for, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Ask him.’
‘I’ll talk to Bel first, right now. She’ll talk you round if anyone can.’ Georgie got up and left the house.
On the sofa where he’d lain since that first terrible day, Dicky wept.
Georgie set off for the Royal Oak, then spun on her heel and returned past Glebe Cottages to Glebe House and rang the doorbell for the first time ever.
Liz came to the door. ‘Oh, hello, Georgie. What a lovely surprise. I’ve just put the kettle on, do come in.’
‘Hello, Liz. It’s Bryn. Is he in?’
‘Yes, he is. He’s in the garden enjoying the sun, smoking.’
‘Can I go straight to see him? I’ll go through the side gate if you don’t mind. It’s personal.’
‘Right. OK, then. It isn’t locked.’
Georgie opened the gate as quietly as she could, wanting a glimpse of Bryn before he saw her. There he was, as Liz had said, seated in front of the summer house, smoking. Not so tanned as he had been at first, though still much more prepossessing than when he’d gone away. She carefully latched the gate and went towards him. He heard her footsteps crunching the gravel and looked up. His face broke into a restrained smile and he moved up to make room for her on the seat.
‘You’re back, Georgie.’ He patted the seat beside him, inviting her to sit with him.
‘Yes.’ She sat down, leaving a space between them.
‘You’ve decided.’ He stubbed out his cigarette in the flower pot beside the seat, and as he flicked soil from his fingers, he asked somewhat cautiously, Georgie thought, ‘Which one of us is it to be?’
Georgie nodded. ‘I’ve decided. Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It did me good getting away. It was Peter’s idea and he was right. Away from the pressures, you learn what really counts. He said, “Think about what you want not just for this year or next, but for the rest of your life” and, of course, I’ve chosen … Dicky.’ Georgie expected a huge explosion of temper from Bryn but he sat quite still and there was nothing but silence. ‘Bryn?’
‘Have you told Dicky?’
‘I have, but …’
‘He isn’t interested.’
‘You knew.’
‘I’ve been to see him. That’s what he told me.’ Bryn explained about his visit.
Georgie was appalled. ‘You mean you don’t want me?’
‘To be honest, I do in a way, but not like I did. When I saw what I’d done to him I knew I couldn’t take you from him.’
‘I see.’
‘He’s being so stubborn, so damned stubborn. He can have all he wants on a plate, and he won’t take it because of some stupid idea about perfection and beauty in your relationship. He’s a romantic.’
For a moment Georgie didn’t reply. She appeared to be admiring a rambler rose ablaze with blossom, but in her heart she was loving Dicky for being a romantic and hating Bryn for being so scathing about Dicky’s ideals. ‘But then, of course, you wouldn’t know anything about his kind of loving. He’s all heart and you’ve none.’
‘I’m changing all that. I’ve found my heart while you’ve been away. Or maybe it’s my conscience I’ve found. I do know you belong to each other and I’ve no rights whatsoever. Elektra saw to that.’
‘Hm, I see. Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do
to bring him round. He’s desperately hurt. We were terribly wrong.’ Georgie stood up and bent to kiss Bryn. ‘Thanks for finding your conscience.’
‘It’s Dicky you should thank; he found it for me.’
She walked away from him, paused by the rambler in full bloom and turned to wave goodbye. A frightening lump came into his throat at the sight of her looking so lovely against the flowers but he managed to smile and wave in return. God! Was he turning into a romantic too? Heaven forbid. He’d the tour to lead. Money to make. Things to do. Things to do. Mr Fitch to get on side when he returned from the Far East. Sir Ralph to persuade. A campaign to organise. A whole new career to tend. But as he listened to Georgie crossing the gravel drive the other side of the gate he pondered the might-have-been, which had now become the never-will-be.
Chapter 12
Bryn went to London to collect his group of tourists and left the situation about Dicky still in limbo. The sole good news was that he was eating again, just small meals under persuasion from Bel but it was a matter for hope. He kept the bolts on the doors so Georgie couldn’t get in and watched television for most of the day, only getting up to open the door when Bel peered in at the window.
They were eating their evening meal and Bel couldn’t hold back any longer; she had decided to speak her mind. ‘You can’t go on for ever like this, Dicky. You can’t expect Georgie to keep paying you to work when all you’re doing is lying flat on your back ignoring everyone and everything. Bryn’s gone now, so you can come out from under and show your face.’
Dicky carried on eating. He still hadn’t shaved but he was looking better and was showering and dressing each day, but he refused to go out.
‘When the money runs out, how are we going to pay the mortgage on this place? You know we need both our wages to keep going.’ Then she played her trump card and wondered why she’d never thought to mention it before: ‘There’s no Scouts next week.’
Dicky hadn’t been listening properly but suddenly it registered. ‘No Scouts?’
‘No, Gary told you he’d be in hospital having his foot done and you said you’d be there, no need to worry.’
‘We can’t have no Scouts.’
‘Well, apparently you can, because there isn’t.’
Dicky sat silently shaking his head and repeated abruptly, ‘We can’t have no Scouts.’
‘No, we can’t, but we have.’ Bel quietly went on eating her dinner. Balancing it on her knee wasn’t very easy, but to encourage Dicky to eat she’d taken to having her meal in front of the television too.
Dicky cleared his plate, laid his knife and fork side by side, took a drink from his glass of water and said, ‘It’s Scout night tonight, isn’t it, Bel?’
A wicked kind of grin crossed her face. ‘Yes. But you’re far too ill to go. Puff of wind would blow you over. It’s quite chilly out. Before I go back to the dining room I’ll get a blanket for your legs. Don’t want you to catch a cold.’
‘Anybody would think I was in my dotage.’
‘They’d be right, wouldn’t they.’
‘I’d have to shave.’
Bel put her empty plate with Dicky’s and handed him his dish of stewed plums and custard. Silently she ate hers, leaving him to come to his own conclusions.
‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Have I time?’
‘Just about.’
Dicky thought for another moment. ‘Neither, thanks.’ He hauled himself off the sofa and went gingerly upstairs. She heard the bathroom taps running and rejoiced.
He came back down after twenty minutes, dressed in his uniform, scraped as clean as a new carrot from head to foot, his clothes immaculate, his face solemn.
He explained himself: ‘Well, you know, I can’t just turn up next week and not know what’s going on, can I?’
‘No, no. Don’t forget your key. I might be late tonight.’ Bel watched him pick up his Scout file and head for the door. ‘Your key! See you.’
Dicky hesitated. ‘Should I go, Bel?’
‘You might as well, you’ll feel an idiot sitting watching television all night dressed like that.’
‘I can’t let them down, can I?’
‘Not you.’
‘Not when it’s all I’ve got left.’
As he closed the door behind him Bel clenched her fists and shook them at the ceiling in triumph.
Dicky, by exerting enormous self-control over his feelings, endured the whole evening with, outwardly at least, his usual style; a healthy mixture of authority, laughter and camaraderie.
They were putting all the equipment away in the Scout cupboards and preparing to leave when Peter came in. ‘Good evening, boys, Gary. You look to have had a good evening.’
Gary answered, ‘We have, sir, very good indeed. We won the canoeing at the weekend, by the way. Did anyone tell you?’
‘No. I’d no idea. Well done. Second year running. Full marks.’
‘County championships next month.’
‘Excellent. Good luck. Let me have the date and I’ll try to get there. All the best for your op next week, Gary. Is Dicky here?’
‘Locking up at the back. Goodnight.’
‘Thanks. Goodnight.’ Peter found Dicky bolting the back door.
‘Hello, Dicky. Time for a word?’
Dicky had realised Peter had come in and hadn’t known what to say to him, so he’d dallied by the back door. He still didn’t know. ‘Yes.’
‘Let’s sit on the bench out here. Everyone’s gone.’
There was no gainsaying Peter. He opened the inner door and held it open for him. Dicky was tired. Keeping control of his feelings and on top of that this being his first night out of the house for over a week had taken a lot out of him.
‘Here, sit down. You look exhausted. It won’t take long.’
Dicky collapsed rather than sat beside Peter. He rested his elbows on his thighs and, clasping his hands together, stared at the floor.
Peter went straight to the nub of the matter. ‘Church hall, funny place for a heart to heart, but you’re not out and about and I’ve tried your door a few times and it was locked. I’ve seen Bel. Well, rather she came to see me. You’ve got her very worried.’
Dicky stared at the floor.
‘And me. I’m worried.’
Dicky shifted his weight a little but didn’t answer.
‘I’m glad to see you out, though. That’s a start, isn’t it.’
Dicky clasped his hands a little tighter to stop them shaking.
‘You see, love is the strangest thing, Dicky. It takes us by surprise and then when we’ve got it, sometimes we don’t know what to do with it. It should make us strong, happy, loving, forgiving. It should make life a joy, it should be a pulsing, throbbing thing which colours every hour of our day. Then something cuts right across that and love makes us unhappy, bad-tempered, jealous, envious, revengeful, murderous, to name but a few. Sometimes we have love offered to us and for whatever reason we reject it, and then we reach the deepest of depths and feel the worst it’s possible to feel, but pride or resentment or distrust makes us stubborn and we suffer.’
Dicky straightened up. ‘I can’t bear it. You know they … one afternoon … well, they got it together?’
Peter nodded.
‘It’s broken my heart.’
For a while the two of them stayed silent, then Peter said, ‘Some time ago I had my heart broken too. But I realised that I had to learn to forgive, generously, if I was ever to regain what I had almost thrown away. Georgie’s offered you a lifetime of loving. Don’t you throw it away.’
‘He says he’s the one to blame. He persuaded her to. No one seems to remember that he nearly murdered me and yet she could let him persuade her to …’ Dicky surreptitiously rubbed his eyes.
‘They haven’t forgotten, not really. I certainly haven’t. But that has nothing to do with Georgie loving you, has it? It’s not Bryn, it’s Georgie who wants to marry you and heal the wounds.’
Dicky nodded and almost smiled at the memory of her.
‘I remember meeting you in the Store at the start of it all and you saying, “She’s the cream in my coffee, the fizz in my drinks, the sherry in my trifle, the icing on my cake.” I’ve never forgotten those words. So simple, but so meaningful. Think about what life without her will be like if you don’t forgive her and wipe the slate clean.’
‘Terrible.’
‘Only good can come from a love as great as yours, Dicky. So let it. Love given freely, despite everything that happens between you, is a wonderful, worthwhile thing.’
Together they got up and walked towards the main entrance. Peter waited while Dicky turned off the lights. They stood there for a moment in the darkness. ‘Do you know, Peter, I’ve had some of the most rewarding times of my life in here at Scout meetings.’
‘Good. That’s excellent. It’s what makes for quality of life, isn’t it? Just think how many lives you have influenced for the better.’
‘I hope so.’
As Dicky locked the outer door Peter said, ‘Glad to see you picking up the threads again, Dicky. If you need to talk confidentially, you know where I am. The Rectory door’s always open to you. Any time. Goodnight. God bless you, Dicky.’
Dicky watched his tall figure striding away down the path and remembered how Peter had almost lost his marriage over that actor fellow and Caroline fancying each other, and yet now they were as one again as though it had never happened. Maybe they were more emphatically one person than before; as Peter had said, forgiving had made their love stronger than ever. Georgie! Georgie! His hand reached out to touch her and for a moment he thought he could feel her hand in his. How he loved her. But he couldn’t quite, not quite … bring himself to … perhaps in time.
Dicky went home to find Bel already making herself a bedtime drink. ‘How’s things, Dicky? Go all right?’
Dicky tossed down his file and keys on the sofa with a gesture more like his old self and said, ‘Fine. Absolutely fine. I’ll have hot chocolate, Bel, please.’
‘Great.’ She came into the living room, planted down his drink on the table and flopped into her favourite chair, cradling her mug in her hands.
A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) Page 17
