‘Caroline!’
‘Caroline nothing! Whatever brought it about?’ Her question was met with stunned silence. ‘Well? Lost for words? It’s time we talked about it. I was so thrilled at the idea of at last having babies and ridiculously pleased that they were yours and not a stranger’s that I never bothered to enquire or even think how it had come about. I simply closed my mind to stop myself getting hurt any more than I was.’
‘My God.’
‘Well? I’m waiting.’
So quietly his voice was almost inaudible Peter said, ‘I … do you really want to know?’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t.’ Caroline turned back to face him. ‘Well?’
Peter rolled over on to his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘I noticed her at my first service here. Then I saw her passing the study window and couldn’t believe how devastatingly attractive I found her. I took you out to lunch to make myself stop thinking about her; to help me cling to sanity. Her face seemed to be everywhere I looked: on the page, in the mirror, on the computer screen. I went to sleep with her face inside my head. She would not go away. Then the police arrived to tell her Patrick had committed suicide. Her parents arranged to take the children out and I was to pop round to discuss the cremation and such with her because she didn’t want the children to overhear. So I did.’
‘And …?’
Ever so quietly he murmured, ‘It was lust, Caroline. Sheer lust.’ He saw Suzy’s beautiful sad face and felt the touch of her hand on his arm as she begged him to comfort her, her intention absolutely plain. Remembered his own overpowering surge of sexual appetite. ‘Alex asked me tonight if I loved her still. I never loved her, only craved her.’ He recalled the sweet, scented smell of the palm of her hand as he’d kissed it. ‘Craved her.’
‘That was a sin.’
‘Yes. Over, literally, in minutes, because our need for each other was so powerfully urgent. But a sin nevertheless, which I shall take to the grave.’
Caroline absorbed what he said, then replied, ‘So that night when she rang very late for your help and you wanted me to go too …’
‘Because I couldn’t risk being in the house with her alone.’
‘I must have been completely naïve not to have sensed that in the air. Talk about rose-coloured spectacles.’
‘Saying how sorry I am is totally inadequate. But I don’t know how else to apologise.’
In a dangerously strained voice Caroline answered, ‘It makes me sick to my stomach to hear all this. If she hadn’t conceived then, you wouldn’t have told me about it, would you?’
‘No, I don’t think I would. But it would have been to save you the pain.’
‘And that’s he who values truth so highly. Well, I’ve nothing to confess about Hugo. We never made love. I wanted to, but didn’t, for your sake. There was always that something indefinable which held me back.’
‘I’m eternally grateful for that. I sensed you hadn’t made love, but it’s wonderful to have it said. You must be a vastly better human being than I.’
‘Mm. It’s half past one and I’ve surgery tomorrow – no, this morning. Goodnight.’
‘God bless. Thank you for your love and for your loyalty. I certainly don’t deserve you.’ Peter switched off his light.
‘No, you don’t. Strange thing is I still adore you. How does that come about?’
‘Don’t know, but I am deeply grateful. Goodnight, my darling girl.’
Minutes later he said, ‘I adore you. Utterly. Can you ever forgive me?’
It must have been a whole minute before she replied, ‘As I said at the time, I forgave you soon after I learned you were their father. I had no option, because I wanted them so much and I couldn’t allow myself to be in a position of you being grateful to me on a daily basis. But tonight I ask myself what you would have done if I had not asked Suzy to give them both to us. If I’d said definitely no to that and you’d had to watch her leave with your children. Would you have gone with her?’
Peter gave her her answer immediately. ‘No. She said herself that you were the one for me, that you were my soulmate. I can say with my hand on my heart that, without any hesitation, I know I would have had to let them go.’
‘You would never have asked me to be a mother to your children either?’
‘Never. I love you too much to ask that of you.’
‘Thank you for that. I love you too, so very much. No matter what.’ She saluted his love with a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Next morning when the twins came down for breakfast it appeared as though last night had never happened. They entered the kitchen to find everything as normal: the kettle singing on the hob, the table laid, their mother pouring milk into the huge jug they used at breakfast time, the one patterned all over with spring flowers, their chucky-egg egg cups with their very own chucky-egg spoons, the special cereal bowls they’d bought when they were holidaying in Portugal. They could hear Dad above their heads singing in the shower. Their mother appeared to be as she had always been until last night, happy and cheerful.
Before they knew it Dad was sitting down to eat his breakfast, and they heard Sylvia’s key in the front door and her calling out as she always did, ‘It’s only me.’ To Beth, last night had become a strange dream to be thought about another day. As for Alex, he was glad to find things appeared to be back to normal, when he’d thought nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter 14
The day Bryn came back to Turnham Malpas after seeing off his American group at Gatwick happened to be the day that, unknown to him, Mr Fitch returned from the Far East. Bryn had a hurried lunch in Liz and Neville’s kitchen, and went off to the Big House, not knowing, but hoping against hope, that Mr Fitch might be back.
Bryn pulled up with a screech of brakes, sending the gravel flying. Just as he leapt from his sports car, full of his success and desperate to find an influential ally to stop any possibility of the council deciding to modernise Turnham Malpas, Mr Fitch came out of the front door. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Fitch. Very, very glad to see you home safe and sound.’ Bryn shook hands vigorously. ‘I must say you’re looking in excellent health for a chap who’s just put in hours of flying time.’
‘Thank you, Fields. I must say I’m very glad to be back. If you’ve come to talk to me let’s walk about the garden for a while. After all those hours in that damn plane I’m longing to see some countryside, my countryside. You know … come through into the rose garden, it’s my favourite place. When I first came to live here, had the flat made and got the staff training school organised, it was simply a place to live. Now, well, I love it. I’ve had a lot to learn, a lot, but I think I finally know how privileged I am to live in such a place as this.’
‘It’s certainly a lovely estate now.’
Mr Fitch’s icy blue eyes became angry. ‘I don’t just mean the estate, I mean the whole place. I just wish I owned every house in the village and then …’ Mr Fitch’s thin, severe face and those ice-cold eyes of his warmed for a moment. He touched a glowing rose in full bloom and savoured its splendid scent. He looked at Bryn with such joy in his eyes that Bryn became embarrassed as though he’d been privy to some tremendous secret to which he had no right at all. ‘You see, it isn’t just money. It’s knowing that one is only a trustee of land like this and it, the land, is far more important than anything else. I hold it all very close to my heart.’ He picked up a handful of rich, crumbly soil and let it trickle very slowly through his fingers.
Besides being unaware that Mr Fitch had a heart, Bryn had never seen him in such a mood and was at a loss to know what to say. Finally he answered, ‘I suppose after being abroad so much you’re more than glad to be home.’
‘I am, I am, but I wasn’t meaning that. I was meaning that the land itself affects you after a while. I learned about how to care from Ralph, you know. Great chap. His heart belongs to the land. Oh, yes. A man of powerfully sympathetic understanding where the land is concerned. I ad
mire him.’
Mr Fitch looked almost mistily into the distance and Bryn, considerably surprised, blurted out, ‘I thought you two were sworn enemies.’
‘Certainly not, Fields. What gave you that idea? We’re the best of friends, he and I. Let’s have a look in the glass houses. Follow me.’
Mr Fitch chattered on with such enthusiasm that Bryn became almost enamoured of the vines and the peaches and the … ‘You see, it’s the seasons, coming one after the other never mindful of man, just doing their own thing. There’s such a reliability about the seasons, don’t you think? Such an assurance.’
‘Oh, yes. There is.’
‘Century after century, always the same and it doesn’t matter what man does or doesn’t do; it happens. One’s part of history, you know. Had you ever thought about it like that?’
Suddenly Bryn realised that with Mr Fitch in this mood it wasn’t going to be difficult to persuade him to become a powerful ally. As they turned to leave the glass house Bryn said, ‘Talking of history and centuries and such, I have a mole in the council offices and he informs me that the council are doing exploratory investigations into modernising the village.’
If he’d drawn a gun on Mr Fitch he couldn’t have looked more horrified. ‘Modernise the village? My God! What do you mean?’
This was more the Mr Fitch he knew and Bryn took a step back. ‘One-way signposts, street lighting, numbering the houses, yellow lines …’
‘Yellow lines! Lighting! Never! I won’t allow it.’ Mr Fitch began to boil. His snow-white hair almost sparked with indignation and horror. ‘One-way signs! What are they thinking of? They’ll be putting up advertising hoardings next. Traffic lights! What brought this about?’
‘Miss Pascoe at the school saying how worried she was about all the cars pulling up to drop the children off in the mornings. She’s been on about it for months. Mayhem, she claims. Parking on the green and such.’
‘I’ll give her mayhem, the bloody woman. This is what comes of giving women positions of authority. Wait till I see her! I’ll give her mayhem.’
‘If I might suggest, I wouldn’t use that argument.’
‘What argument?’
‘The one about women in positions of authority. It doesn’t go down well in the present climate.’
‘Well, you may be right. Diplomacy, eh?’
‘Exactly. In any case it’s the council we need to get at, not Miss Pascoe. I wondered if you had any influence?’
‘The last time I tried my kind of influence, Sir Ralph shamed the officials into changing their minds with no one ever taking up battle stations. Have you tried him?’
‘They’re in Singapore and then they’re going on to Japan. The whole job could be done and dusted before he gets back.’
‘Pity. These people with their inherited titles seem to get their own way in the countryside in the most gentlemanly fashion. Scarcely a word in anger and Bob’s your uncle, the whole matter is cleared up apparently to everyone’s satisfaction, and both sides believe it’s they who have brought it about. I admire that.’ He stood, hands in pockets, gazing across the lawns towards Sykes Wood. ‘This mole. It wouldn’t be our Kevin, would it?’
Bryn had to smile. ‘Yes. Our Kev.’
‘I classify him as a rat rather than a mole. However, needs must …’ Mr Fitch turned on his heel and began to walk towards the house. ‘Surprised to find you of all people interested in preserving the village. It couldn’t be a vested interest because of your tourists, could it?’ He looked up at Bryn with an amused grin on his face.
This old codger saw more than was good for him, he’d have to admit it. ‘That’s right. Just got back from a very successful trip with my first group of tourists. They loved it. Second group next month. I’m really on to something big.’
‘Back with Georgie, then?’
‘No. I’ve given up all rights there. That damned Elektra … burned my boats, you know.’
‘Women can be the very devil. Leave it with me. Need some sleep to bring me round. Jet lag, you know. Don’t bother me again with this, Fields. I’ll ring you.’ Mr Fitch abruptly dismissed him with an impatient flick of his hand and disappeared into the house.
Bryn became distinctly disgruntled when he thought about that final piece of arrogance. And there was he, thinking for a while that he and Mr Fitch were associating on level terms. Bryn felt he’d been dismissed with less grace than Mr Fitch would have spoken to a dog of his. ‘Fields’ indeed. Did he need Mr Fitch’s help with the entire village just waiting to shoulder arms to prevent their enemy from modernising their precious village? Well, better two strings to one’s bow, so he’d stir up the villagers and see what happened.
He tried the Village Store first, running into Mrs Jones who was picking up a jar of ‘Harriet’s Country Cousins’ Lemon Cheese’ made with real lemons and fresh barnyard eggs, from the preserves shelf. ‘How would you feel about it? Could I count on your support?’
‘To be frank, in letters of one syllable, no.’
‘No?’
‘That’s what I said. It’s nothing short of criminal the chaos on Sunday mornings at morning service and during the week at the start of school. There’s cars all over the place. Do we have to wait for someone to get run over before something’s done?’
‘But do you want yellow lines and road signs all over the place?’
‘If it saves lives, yes I do.’
‘But there has never been an accident nor anything anywhere near it since the year dot.’
‘What about Flick Charter-Plackett and that little Janine outside the school the other day?’
‘As you well know that wasn’t because of chaotic traffic, but little girls running out into the road without looking.’
Mrs Jones came down from her high horse. ‘Well, maybe you’re right about that, but the fact remains it all needs organising.’
‘So I can’t count on you?’
She shook the jar of lemon cheese in his face. ‘I’ve something better to do than stand here arguing.’ She marched off to attack her parcel tape with renewed vigour.
Next he tried Sylvia who was shopping for the Rectory. ‘What do you think about this business of yellow lines and one-way traffic?’
‘To be honest I shudder to think about there being accidents outside the school. I hardly dare let the twins go on their own, just in case. So one-way traffic and some yellow lines would go down well in my book.’
‘And in mine.’ This was Jimbo joining the discussion. ‘We always take Fran to school and put her right inside the gate. There’s so many cars coming from all directions.’
It wasn’t until Bryn spoke to Jimmy that he found an ally. ‘I’m on your side, definitely.’ He nudged Bryn and gave him a conspiratorial wink. ‘Can’t have our little scam spoiled can we?’
‘So how much did you get in tips?’
‘That’d be telling. But quite satisfactory, thank you.’
‘So if we hold a protest outside the council offices you’d be with me?’
‘Count me in.’
‘They all thought you were great. If your tips don’t come up to scratch one time don’t come looking to me for recompense.’
‘OK. OK. I enjoyed it. Easy as pie it was. Nice people, too.’
‘Only don’t go on about the plague pit quite so long, just enough to whet their appetites.’
‘Right. Did they go to see it?’
Bryn nodded. ‘I spun a bit of a tale there, actually. When is the burial taking place? We need a headstone up.’
‘Ask the Rector. He’ll know better than me.’ Jimmy whistled up Sykes and left Bryn standing alone in the middle of the road.
Suddenly Grandmama Charter-Plackett’s cottage door snapped open and there she was, beckoning him in. ‘Time for coffee?’
Now she really was a formidable old bat and he needed her on board. ‘Good morning! I have indeed. Just what the doctor ordered.’
‘I’ve got the kettle on.’
/> Her kitchen was at the back of the house overlooking her charming garden. While she busied herself with the cafetière he stood at the back door admiring the view. ‘By the looks of this you’re a gardener, not just someone who gardens.’
‘What a delightful compliment. I consider myself just that, a real gardener. It’s so rewarding.’
Bryn took in the whole of her view, noticing she could see the old oak tree as well as the stocks if she stood on tiptoe, and the whole lovely vista of some of the best houses in the village as well as the Village Store. ‘You’ve a lovely view of the green.’
‘Exactly. I keep intending to buy a house when one comes vacant, but then I’d lose this view. I don’t think there’s a single house with a better view. Some are as good but definitely not better. Come and sit down.’
She went out through the back door to her small group of table and four chairs on her little terrace. ‘Some people call this my patio, but that’s so common. It’s a terrace.’ She put down the tray on the snow-white wrought-iron table and sat down.
‘You wanted to see me?’ Bryn asked.
‘Yes. About Dicky.’
‘Ah!’
‘Is he marrying Georgie?’
Bryn shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows? Dicky certainly doesn’t.’
‘I hear it’s all your fault.’
‘Dicky thinks it is.’
‘I’m very fond of Dicky. Lovely little chap. He and Georgie are well suited.’
‘If he does marry Georgie I understand there’s someone in the village willing to help him buy my share of the pub.’
Mrs Charter-Plackett organised her cafetière and carefully filled his cup. ‘There we are, cream and sugar? I would have thought that the money you took from your joint account when you skipped with that hussy would have been enough for you. You left Georgie in a mess.’
Bryn was surprised she knew as much as she did, but he didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t taken up his remark about someone lending Dicky the money. Could it be her?
A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) Page 20
