When the sergeant heard Ralph’s story his insides did a somersault. He’d have to appear calm, but this really was above and beyond the duties expected of a village policeman. Metropolitan police, yes, but not the Turnham Malpas village bobby.
‘I shall need to get on to my inspector, Sir Ralph. Would you take a seat for the moment while I contact him.’
‘Whatever you do, you mustn’t have them barging up there with their big boots on. That girl is dangerous. I’ve warned Muriel about her before.’
Sharon sat in front of the fire eating her lunch of scrambled egg on toast with two rashers of bacon and baked beans, and tea and a piece of gingerbread for afters.
‘This suits me down to the ground, Moo. Once it gets dark I’m going. Waiting here is getting me nowhere. I’ve got to get away. Pity you don’t drive, then you could take me in the car in the dark and drive me away. When I tell you to, you must fetch me all the money you’ve got.’
Muriel tried to eat her lunch but it would keep sticking in her throat. If only it would get dark right now, but there were another three hours before sunset. Could she keep her nerve until then? Oh, Ralph, please understand what I was telling you, please. Please.
‘I’ll wear a coat of yours and a scarf and get myself to Culworth on the tea-time bus. There’s never no one on it going to Culworth.’
‘I shall have to let Pericles out or he’ll be wetting the floor.’
‘I’ll come with you when you open the door. I don’t want you running out.’
She picked up the knife, took hold of the back of Muriel’s dressing gown and marched her to the kitchen. Pericles dashed out of the door. They both stood, Muriel in front and Sharon holding the knife to her ribs, watching the dog in the garden. For one brief moment Muriel thought she saw a head move behind the wall. She glanced at Sharon but she was standing a bit behind and didn’t get quite the same view as Muriel did.
A small flame of hope flared in Muriel’s heart. Pericles came back in.
‘Well now, Sharon, shall we wash up?’
‘You can, I’ll watch.’
Talk to your captors, make a relationship with them. Be friendly, be sympathetic. Where had she read that?
‘I’m sorry I haven’t got much money in the house, my dear, but there’ll be enough for the bus and something to eat. Would you like me to make a picnic for you to take with you?’
‘What’s this – trying to win me round? You won’t get me to give myself up, you know. Couldn’t bear being locked up. Got a thing about it, you see. I’ve got to have freedom, that’s me. Yes, you can make me a picnic. Put some of that gingerbread in and a nice jam sandwich.’
Sharon sat on a stool watching Muriel wash up. The small kitchen made her proximity hard to tolerate. Muriel didn’t like people in her house at the best of times but this was suffocating. They watched television during the afternoon and then had another cup of tea. Before it grew dark Muriel made the picnic, found Sharon a coat and a big scarf for her hair.
‘You’ll miss the tea-time bus, Sharon, if you don’t hurry.’
‘Right. I’ll go over the wall and round the back of the church through the graveyard and wait for the bus behind the wall, then no one will see me.’ Sharon put the knife in the plastic bag holding her picnic.
‘Sharon, don’t take the knife. You don’t need it.’
‘Oh yes I do. It’s a big bad world out there.’
Muriel opened the back door and said, ‘Good luck, Sharon.’ The girl tossed her peroxided head and without another word ran into the garden and headed for the wall.
The terrifying scream which tore across the night sky as Sharon disappeared over the wall shattered Muriel’s self-control. She collapsed unconscious.
Chapter 22
Ralph thought his heart would burst with fear. Surely, surely, she wasn’t dead? Not when they were about to find happiness together after all these years.
He gently rolled her over, fearing the worst. She was ghastly white and scarcely breathing, but not apparently hurt in any way. He needed a phone. ‘I shall put a phone in for you, Muriel, immediately,’ he whispered.
A constable followed him in. ‘Is she all right?’ Ralph demanded.
‘I think so, sir – just fainted with shock. But she’ll need to be checked over all the same. I’ll call for another ambulance.’ While the constable did this on his radio, Ralph covered Muriel with his coat, gently rubbed her hands between his warm ones, and spoke her name, desperate for her to come back to life.
‘How’s Sharon?’
‘Dead, sir, I’m afraid. The knife went straight through her as she fell, and the blood just pumped out. She was dead in a moment. There was nothing we could do to save her.’
‘Poor girl, what an end. Have her parents been told?’
‘Someone’s gone to tell them now.’
When Muriel came round she was neatly tucked up in bed with Ralph sitting beside her holding her hand. Caroline was there too and they both sighed with relief when she spoke.
‘Sharon – I heard her scream. Is she all right? That poor girl.’
‘Don’t you worry about her, Muriel. Let’s be thankful you’re OK.’
‘She died, didn’t she? Didn’t she?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid she did. She saw the police waiting for her and she was so startled she slipped and fell on a knife she was carrying. She died almost instantly.’
‘Can I have a drink of water, please, Ralph? I’m so terribly thirsty.’ Caroline supported her head while Ralph held the glass for her. She took a few sips and then lay down again.
‘You understood then what I meant about The Waiting Game.’
‘It took me a while but in the end I did. You’ve been very brave, Muriel …’
‘You’ve called me Muriel. You must be growing up.’ She smiled.
‘And you’ve called me Ralph.’
‘So I have.’
‘The police will need to see you when you feel better.’
‘Sharon made Mrs Palmer kill herself and then she killed Toria Clark. And it was Sharon who set fire to number three. It’s perhaps as well she’s died, she couldn’t face being locked up. She was only a little girl really, you know. She needed an awful lot of love and she felt she never got it from anyone. I felt quite sorry for her when she left.’
Caroline said gently, ‘That’s because you have a very kind heart, isn’t it, Ralph? Harriet is devastated that she didn’t cotton on.’
‘She couldn’t help it. Sharon said I was a good actress. It wasn’t Harriet’s fault.’
A nurse came bustling in. ‘Message for Dr Harris. Ah, there you are. You’re needed in Maternity as soon as you can make it, Doctor.’
‘Oh, am I? Right, well, I’ll come then. Bye bye, Muriel. I’ll leave Ralph to take care of you. Perhaps I could pop in to see you tomorrow if you’re still here?’
‘Of course, Caroline. Thank you for coming.’
Caroline arrived in Maternity, puzzled about why she should be required.
‘Good evening, Sister. You’ve sent for me?’
‘Yes. Mrs Suzy Meadows from Turnham Malpas has insisted we inform you she’s been brought in. She says you’re a friend.’
‘That’s right, I am. Ah, the twins are on their way then? Will it be in order for me to be here? Her husband has died and she did say would I be here to support her, purely as a friend.’
‘Of course, as a friend. I appreciate you asking my permission.’
Suzy lay in bed pale and anxious.
‘Oh, Caroline, you’ve come – I’m so glad. What’s all this about Muriel and Sharon McDonald? I saw the police about during the afternoon but I wasn’t feeling up to going out to find out why and then Mother arrived and I came straight in.’
‘At the moment it’s nothing for you to worry about, but Muriel is quite safe and they’re taking care of Sharon. This is earlier than expected, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I’m glad, I couldn’t have coped much longer. I
do not want to see the babies at all. I shall have my eyes closed and don’t let them give them to me, please. You take them. Promise me, will you promise me?’
‘Suzy, I shall quite understand if, when it comes to it, you want to keep them.’
‘I don’t. Oh, please, you mustn’t let me weaken. I mustn’t weaken. I don’t want them, but I’m not strong enough to see them and hold them and then not want them. Tell the Sister, please. Tell her that you’re looking after them, not me.’
Suzy closed her eyes and began breathing steadily. She drew a self-imposed wall around herself and concentrated on giving birth and getting it over with. Caroline felt excluded. She went in search of Sister.
‘It’s all most irregular,’ the woman frowned, ‘but of course there is no law which says a mother has to love and want her babies. If she is getting them adopted then I can quite understand her not wanting to see them: she’s too vulnerable at the moment to be emotionally strong. But it’s preferable for the babies to relate to someone immediately. That’s how I like to work. It’s not only the mothers who have rights, you know. Babies are not parcels.’
‘Well, that person is me. She wants my husband and me to adopt the twins and has been making arrangements with that in mind.’
‘I see, you and the rector. Well, highly suitable parents I must say. What does your husband think about this?’
‘He is delighted. We can’t have children of our own, you see.’
‘Proper arrangements must be made before the babies are allowed out of the hospital. I can’t let them go off willy-nilly with anyone.’
‘Of course not.’
Peter sounded anxious when he answered the phone. ‘My darling girl, where are you?’
‘Sorry, Peter, I learnt about Muriel and Sharon before I left so I’ve been to reassure myself Muriel’s OK, so if anyone asks you can tell them she’s conscious and quite unharmed apart from shock. But Suzy has been brought in in labour so she wants me to stay here till the twins are born. Darling, I’m terrified.’
‘Oh God, this is it then. Shall I come to the hospital?’
There was a pause and then Caroline said, ‘I don’t think so, do you? It wouldn’t look right somehow. Look, I’ll ring as soon as there’s any news. Do you love me?’
‘You know I do. Take the greatest care, my darling, and keep a rein on yourself. There’s always a risk, you know. I don’t want you to be heartbroken.’
‘I know, I know. I am trying hard to be sensible. I won’t leave the hospital without ringing you so take the phone to bed, won’t you?’
Peter went into the church. It was about eight o’clock. He stood in the darkness before the altar. His tall figure, topped by his thick, bright-bronze hair, was quite motionless. In the darkness his black cassock made him almost disappear as though only his head was present. Inside he was in turmoil. This day perhaps or at least within a few hours his children, please God, would be born safe and well. He daren’t let Caroline know what it meant to him. All these weeks he had been trying to play the role of bystander, the cautionary man, the detached onlooker, when all the time these new powerful emotions were coursing through him. His gut reaction, his primitive instincts were that of pride that he had reproduced, that his bloodline would continue. He knew now what was meant by the words ‘my own flesh and blood’. To hold in one’s arms the product of oneself must be an unbelievable experience and one for which he was not altogether sure he was equipped.
He knelt before God and prayed, for forgiveness for his sin, for the life of his children, and for the life of their mother. He prayed for his darling Caroline and the wonderful way in which she had decided to take his children into her care. Then he rose from his knees, bowed his head and went across to the organ, where he began playing a sad piece by some obscure seventeenth-century composer that exactly fitted his mood. The music poured from his soul and he concluded with a triumphant Bach Fugue.
As the last note finished he heard someone clapping.
‘Wonderful, wonderful. You should have been a musician, not a clergyman. You played from the heart, Peter.’
Ralph stepped forward into the light.
Peter, in a strange mood and not welcoming company, switched off the organ, swung his legs over the organ seat and went towards Ralph.
‘I didn’t realise I had an audience,’ he said quietly. ‘How is Muriel?’
‘Very well, all things considered. She’s had a dreadful time. I’m sorry Sharon has died, but there couldn’t have been anything other than a bad end for the girl. Have you seen her parents?’
‘Yes. I spent half an hour with them. Betty is distraught but Mac is fairly calm. What a terrible thing for a parent to have to face.’
‘Well, that’s something we aren’t likely to know anything about – not me, certainly. Bit late now.’
‘That’s right. What’s the time?’
‘Half-past nine.’
‘I’d better get back to the Rectory. I’m expecting a call.’
‘Good night, Peter. What an eventful life I’ve led since I came back here. I thought it would be peaceful in Turnham Malpas. Some chance of that.’
‘Too true. Good night then, Ralph. You know you and Muriel could be very happy together.’
‘Perhaps. We’ll see, we’ll see.’
The phone went at 1 a.m.
‘Hello, Peter. You’re a daddy. Peter, are you there?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘They’re both fine, a bit small but both fine.’
‘I see. I see.’
‘Peter, you sound funny.’
‘No, I’m not. What are they?’
‘A perfect family – a boy and a girl.’
‘That’s wonderful. Are you all right?’
‘I’m in seventh heaven.’
‘Is … is Suzy …?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. She’s very upset but still determined that she doesn’t want the babies.’
‘I see. That’s good, isn’t it? Are you coming home now?’
‘In about an hour, when the babies have been weighed and washed and everything. I held them as soon as they were born. They are beautiful, just beautiful. Wait till you see them. You could come tomorrow, couldn’t you?’
‘I can’t wait.’
When he held Alexander and Elizabeth in his arms, Peter had tears in his eyes. His own two, very own two children. He’d thought that joy like this would never be his and yet here he was. Caroline stood looking down at him. He glanced up at her and smiled.
‘Aren’t they beautiful, my darling?’
‘Absolutely. We are blessed.’
‘We are indeed. God be praised. Caroline, my darling girl, thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
‘You’ve got two darling girls now. Muriel’s coming down to see them before she goes home. I couldn’t wait to tell someone that they are going to be ours.’
‘They seem very tiny.’
‘Well, they only weigh just over four pounds each so they won’t be coming out until they get a bit bigger.’
The midwife had given Alexander to Caroline as soon as she’d cut the cord. The tiny tiny being lay bawling and squawking in her arms, his weeny arms waving in indignation at the disturbance his birth had caused him. She’d pulled aside the sheet Alexander was wrapped in and examined his ten little toes, touched his minute fingers, admired his fingernails, stroked his wet, blood-streaked hair which looked as though it would be the same colour as Peter’s, and noticed how very long he appeared to be, with what seemed like two quite large feet fidgeting away as he cried. She’d smiled to herself. What else could she expect from a baby of Peter’s, but long legs and big feet and bright, almost strawberry-blond hair? There was no mistaking whom Alexander belonged to. She laid him in a cot, carefully placing him on his side, and covered him over. When the midwife handed the second baby to her, Caroline found herself holding a neatly made, composed little girl. She’d lain in Caroline’s arms stretching and occasionally opening her e
yes but mostly preoccupied with sucking her thumb. She had perfect little feet. Elizabeth – that’s it. Elizabeth, she’d decided.
Sister interrupted her reverie. ‘What a wonderful job you’ve done, Suzy. Absolutely brilliant. No complications like we’d anticipated, you’ve been a model patient.’
‘I’d like to have the babies taken out, please. Now.’
‘Of course. Nurse, jump to it, if you please. Dr Harris? You too – out you go, please.’
Caroline went across to Suzy, bent over her and kissed her and said: ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart. God bless you.’
Suzy nodded as silent tears began trickling down her cheeks. She made agonising choking sounds as she endeavoured to control the pain rising in her chest. All she could think was ‘I mustn’t weaken, I mustn’t weaken.’ Surely when she was so positive that she didn’t want these children, surely the pain wouldn’t last? She mustn’t ask what they were. Mustn’t ask who they looked like. Treat it like a miscarriage, a late miscarriage – that was it. That was how she’d solve it. She’d go straight to her mother’s from the hospital and then there’d be no chance she might see or hear the babies. Twenty-four hours, that was all she’d stay in this place. Mother would see about moving their belongings and selling the house. Then she’d make a new beginning away from memories of Patrick and Peter. A completely new life. Oh God, please take away the pain.
When Muriel came down to the ward to see Alexander and Elizabeth her feelings were confused. Delight for Caroline and Peter. Distress for Suzy. Anticipation at seeing the two tiny babies, and fear of returning to her own home with all the memories of the last forty-eight hours so fresh in her mind.
Peter and Caroline were both there when she walked in. They greeted her and then she walked over to the cots. The shock she received as she leant over Alexander’s obliterated her own anxieties, for there, nestled in a hospital shawl, lay an exact replica of Peter. Fond parents go on about how like their father or their mother a baby is, yet no one else can detect much likeness at all. But there was no doubt here. She stood touching his tiny clenched fist and stroking his bright hair whilst she composed herself.
The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 21
