by Rebecca Shaw
'Will he really? Oh dear, the whole village will know then.'
'Don't worry it will only be a nine days wonder.'
'Ralph!'
'By the way Muriel, in my male arrogance I assumed that when I proposed you would say yes ..." Muriel reached across the table and stroked his hand. 'I am sorry about that, but you wouldn't have wanted me to say yes before I was sure would you?'
'No, my dear I wouldn't, so I made arrangements to buy Suzy Meadow's house as a surprise ..."
'Oh Ralph, really? I thought you were going to buy Toria Clark's cottage.'
'So I was, but I decided it wouldn't be big enough for a married man. It's all signed sealed and delivered now, or it will be by the end of next week, so I intend moving shortly. Do you think you could live in Suzy's old house or would you prefer somewhere else?'
'Oh no, I've always liked her house.'
'We could always redecorate if you wish.'
'No, certainly not, I like it as it is. I shall really enjoy working in her garden.' Muriel couldn't help feeling sad
10
at the prospect of leaving her beloved cottage. 'I shall miss my view of the churchyard. When I sell this house I hope the person who buys it loves it like I do.'
'We could live here if you want,' said Ralph.
'Certainly not, it wouldn't be suitable. And there isn't room for all your things and mine.'
'Well, I have got boxes and boxes in store which I have never looked at since I came home to England.'
'Well, there you are then, we need Suzy's house.'
After lunch Muriel cleared away. Ralph helped and they washed the dishes together talking about where he had been, and trying to decide where to go for their honeymoon.
'That does seem a foolish word to use, Ralph, for people as old as we are.'
'I'm hoping that even though we are older we shall still have a wonderful time together. It's the first time for both of us Muriel, so it can be as exciting or as dull as we choose to make it.'
Muriel was worrying and didn't know how to phrase the next thing she wanted to say. To give herself time she tested the little plant she kept on her window sill to see if it needed more water. She felt Ralph's hand on her arm. He turned her round and held her close and then stood away from her and smiled. 'You're very quiet, is there something you want to say?'
'Not just now ..."
'Have you got some doubts?'
'Oh, no. No. It's not that.' Muriel rinsed the tea pot out again and dried it till it gleamed. It had been mother's favourite pot. She could almost see her mother's face reflected in the shining brown roundness of the pot. Her mother had never discussed anything to do with being a woman, not in all her life. Muriel realised she was as ill prepared for marriage at sixty-four as she had been at sixteen.
11
'I'm still here.' Ralph was leaning against the washer, arms folded, patiently studying her face.
'Ralph, you'll have to help me. I shall need help, you see, to get it right. I don't understand how to feel inside myself, because I've never had those kind of feelings. I don't know how it feels to want a m ... I think passion is the word I mean. It's an old fashioned word but that's what I mean. I know you want us to be truly married, and so do I but . . .' Muriel blushed bright red and turned away from him to look out of the window. Her winter garden was just beginning to get a little colour, she could see the snowdrops peeping green through the soil. But soon she'd be leaving it for a whole new life and it would be someone else's winter garden. The enormity of what she'd done struck her and she felt intensely shy of the future. Why had she used the word passion? Now she'd have to face up to something she had avoided thinking about all her life.
'Muriel,' Ralph said gently, reminding himself as he spoke of the gentle delicacy of Muriel's nature and not wishing to trample all over it with some kind of hearty ho! ho! "it'll be all right on the night" kind of speech. 'I love you and you love me and because of that we'll make our married life absolutely lovely and satisfying in every way. We shan't rush things, we'll go steadily because that way we shall both reap rich rewards. I'll help you to feel passion, my dear, and I do love you all the more for your reticence. You can have confidence in me.'
'I can, can't I? You'll look after me, won't you Ralph?'
'Of course.'
'Please Ralph, let's go and see Peter about getting married. Can we get a special licence or something? If we wait a long time I shall get doubts and want to change my mind.'
'Very well, we'll go and tell Peter you can't wait to get married and which is his first free Saturday.'
12
'Ralph! You mustn't say I can't wait.'
'Well, I certainly can't.'
'Neither can I! I'll get my coat.'
They arrived at the rectory door still laughing.
It seemed a while before Peter answered their knock. 'Why Ralph, hello. Caroline said you were back.' He shook Ralph's hand. 'Lovely to see you, you're looking well. Have you had a good trip? We missed you over Christmas. Come in both of you. Hello Muriel, God bless you.'
'Hello Peter. Ralph has something to say.'
'Can we talk privately?'
'Certainly, come into my study. I'd offer you tea but Caroline's busy at the moment. Have you come to tell me something exciting? You both look very pleased with yourselves.'
Peter led the way into his study, and sat his two visitors in the easy chairs and then himself in his chair by the desk. Ralph cleared his throat, took Muriel's hand in his and asked Peter if he could fit in a wedding ceremony during the next few weeks.
'What? Oh I am delighted, absolutely delighted, I couldn't be more pleased. That's really great. Wonderful. ' He stood up to shake Ralph's hand and then kissed Muriel on both cheeks. 'Just what we've all been waiting for. Is it a secret or can I tell Caroline?' Muriel nodded.
He opened the study door and shouted, 'Caroline, can you spare a minute?'
The moment Caroline saw the two of them in the study she knew they had come to arrange their marriage.
'Don't tell me, let me guess. You're getting married. I'm so pleased for you both, so very pleased. Peter, this calls for champagne.'
'Well, we have that bottle ready in the fridge for tonight. We don't have to wait till then do we?'
'In fact it might be best to have it now while all's quiet.'
13
Muriel looked curiously at the two of them. 'All's quiet? What's going to happen tonight?'
Caroline and Peter grinned at each other. 'You've only just caught us in, we've been to the hospital this afternoon . .- .'
Muriel stood up quickly full of joy. 'You've been for the twins!'
'Yes.' Caroline hugged Muriel and she in turn hugged Caroline and then Peter.
'Oh where are they? Please let me see them.'
'Come on then, you too Ralph.' The four of them went upstairs into the nursery to gaze with love and admiration on Alex and Beth, each firmly tucked up in matching swinging cribs. Alex lay quietly sleeping, wisps of his bright blond hair just showing above the blanket, his tiny fists held close to his face. Muriel gently drew the blanket back and saw he still strongly resembled Peter, and felt uncomfortable at the thought of what the villagers would make of that. She rather hoped no one would notice. Loud sucking noises were coming from Beth's crib, and when Muriel peeped in she saw that little Beth had her thumb in her mouth.
Muriel clapped her hands with glee. 'Aren't they lovely Ralph? Just perfectly lovely. You must both feel so happy to have them safely home.'
'We are, but I'm terribly nervous. They'll be waking up any minute now for a feed and I shan't know where to begin, but we'll learn, we'll have to.' Caroline tucked the blanket a little more firmly around Alex and smoothed her hand around the top of Beth's head.
'How much do they weigh now, Caroline?'
'Alex is five pounds two ounces and Beth onlyjust five pounds. But they are gaining a little every day now, thank the Lord. We'll go get that champagne befor
e they wake up.'
They touched glasses and Peter said, 'May God bless
14
all four of us on this very special day in our lives. Ralph echoed his thoughts with 'God bless us all and give us a.' great happiness in the future.' Muriel clinked her glass with Caroline's and said 'Amen to that.'
15
Chapter 2
Jimbo, balancing on the top step of his ladder, was attempting to fasten a banner above the sign on his new restaurant. When he'd finally secured it, he leant back as far as he dare to read the words. 'CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.' That would give Muriel and Ralph a lovely surprise when they opened their respective bedroom curtains this morning. He climbed down from the top of his ladder and stood back to admire his endeavours. Turquoise and silver hydrogen-filled balloons, three at each end of the banner, were blowing briskly in the early morning breeze. A work of art Jimbo admitted to himself. In such good taste too. Oh well, lots to do, must get on. There was the cake to finish, and the bride to give away, to say nothing of the food to prepare for the village reception that evening. He folded up his ladder and turned to go inside, pausing for a moment's peace at the beginning of his hectic day, to look at the sleeping village.
Best day's work he'd ever done moving to Turnham Malpas. He'd been on a treadmill at that damned merchant bank. Living on his nerves and for what? A smart house, smart friends, smart garden, smart clothes? Trading it all in for a country store had seemed exceedingly rash at the time but what a superb business he, well Harriet and he, were making out of it. And the
16
children were growing up in peace and quiet, that was the bonus. The sun was now well over the tops of the Clintock Hills; it shone on the Church of St Thomas a Becket and the old white-walled houses, making the village look at its best. This was a great day for them all. True, Sir Ralph wasn't Lord of the Manor any more, but he still carried that aristocratic air and all the old villagers acknowledged him as such, even after nearly fifty years without the Big House at the hub of their lives. As for Muriel, what a very exciting day it would be for her. Jimbo bustled inside. Lots to do, lots to do.
By five minutes to twelve the church was filled to overflowing, for the guests invited to the wedding and the breakfast afterwards had been joined by dozens of villagers. All eagerly awaited the bride's arrival. The choir was in place and the rector, Peter Harris, stood on the altar steps dressed in his white marriage cassock and his best surplice. The entire congregation was hushed in anticipation.
At a signal from the verger, Mrs Peel the organist burst into Mendelssohn's Wedding March. Sir Ralph rose and stood next to his best man, an old university friend whom no one knew, as Muriel Hipkin entered the church on Jimbo Charter-Plackett's arm. She wore a pale turquoise suit, matching shoes, and a tiny stylish turquoise hat with a fine veil softening its outline and covering her hair and forehead. In her trembling fingers was a small bouquet of white flowers. Muriel was nervous but triumphant. She'd been awake since first light, thinking about giving the whole of her future happiness into the hands of this man, Ralph. The momentous decision to marry Ralph, once she had made it, was so absolutely right.
As Muriel approached the altar steps she saw that Ralph had turned to greet her, his strong features
17
softened by love and by the sheer delight he felt at her arrival and at her charming appearance. He reached forward to take her hand and Muriel gave it to him without any reservations. Ralph leaned towards her and whispered, 'You look beautiful, my dear.'
When it came to the time for making their vows they turned to face each other and spoke steadily in firm, confident voices. The choirboys, dressed in their best ceremonial cassocks and ruffles, had to stifle giggles when they heard Peter say '. . . this woman Muriel Euphemia Hipkin . . .' Peter's address during the service brought some members of the congregation close to tears.
'I shall first read St Paul's thoughts on love, from Corinthians Book One, Chapter Thirteen.
'"Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous, nor conceited, nor proud; love is not ill-mannered nor selfish nor irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail. Love is eternal."
'It is only a short time ago that we welcomed Ralph on his return to the village after a long absence. His work in the Diplomatic Service has taken him worldwide, but the ties he had with the place in which he was born brought him winging his way back here when that work was done. He didn't know when he made the decision to return that Muriel, a childhood friend, had already come back. Some of you will recall that the bride and groom played together as children and that where Ralphie went, Moo was sure to follow. Recently we have watched them revive those early years. We all kept hoping that they would finally make it to the altar. There were some ups and downs, and at one stage it seemed we had all hoped in vain, but at last they have stood before God and declared their love. Muriel and Ralph, you have made
18
your vows, secure in the knowledge that between you there is love which knows no bounds, love which is eternal. May God bless you both as you begin your married life together.'
When the wedding service was concluded the guests and villagers went out into the spring sunshine to watch the photographs being taken. They clutched their unopened boxes of confetti, mindful of Willie Biggs' ire should they sprinkle it around within the church precincts. The children from the village school formed a guard of honour down each side of the path. Dressed in their best and firmly instructed by their parents in the behaviour expected of them, they waved their Union Jacks and smiled until their faces ached. The bells of St Thomas a Becket rang out across the village filling the air with exultant sound. Everyone wanted to shake hands with the bride and groom and wish them the very best.
'Congratulations.'
'All the very best.'
'You look lovely Miss Hipkin . . . oooops Lady Templeton, beg yer pardon.'
'Lovely service.'
'Could 'ear every word you said, Muriel, and we all thought you'd be too shy.'
'Good luck to you both.'
'Get in the photo, Rector. At the back please, seeing as you're so tall, sir.'
'Them choir boys need keeping in check. Giggling all the time. Still 'er name was funny. Euphoria was it?'
'Wonder if they'll 'ave separate bedrooms, all them Dukes and Duchesses 'ave their own rooms.'
'Shut up, Pat. Now's not the time for that.'
Cameras of all shapes and vintage clicked and clicked again.
Once Ralph and Muriel were safely through the lych gate there was a concerted rush to shower them with
19
confetti. Finally they were free to leave for their reception. Waiting in Church Lane was a beautiful open carriage and pair. The horses had their tails and manes plaited with turquoise and white ribbons and the driver wore a black coachman's coat and top hat. Ralph handed Muriel into the carriage with a flourish and seated himself beside her. Top hat in hand he acknowledged the cheers and good wishes with a wave as the carriage pulled away.
Harriet turned to Caroline and said, 'Don't they look splendid? What a send off.'
'They do. And they look so very happy.'
'I thought Peter's address struck just the right note.'
'He really laboured over it, it's so easy to wax dreadfully coy with a marriage service and he knew Ralph wouldn't like that at all. I'm just going to check that my parents are coping with the twins, so we'll see you at The George, Harriet.'
'Right. I'll find Jimbo and we'll be off too. He's in his element today. See you there.'
After the bridal party and guests had departed for the wedding breakfast at The George in Culworth, the rest of the villagers went home with the evening reception to look forward to. Lady Sheila Bissett longed to get home to kick off her shoes, she should never have bought them half a size too small just because they didn't have her size
in stock. She'd be glad to get home anyway, because Ron was pestering her about her leopard skin coat. He'd never liked it but she did and that was what counted. Anyway, it was winter even if it was a wedding. And just wait till he saw her tonight, she'd show them all how to dress.
They'd had lunch and were fast asleep in front of the TV when Lady Bissett was awakened by frenzied barking. Oh no, not Flick Charter-Plackett's cats again. Pom and Pericles were behaving like crazed animals. Why Ron had promised to have Pericles while Muriel went on her honeymoon she never would know. They
20
each encouraged the other where the cats were concerned. One whiff of a cat and they both went berserk. Sheila was sure that Chivers and Hartley came into their garden just for the fun of it. She looked out of the window. The two cats had just decided where they preferred to relieve themselves when Pom and Pericles pounced. Caught in mid stream as it were, the cats were at a disadvantage but fought their attackers with spirit. The spitting and snarling, the barking and growling could not be ignored.
Sir Ronald came out with Sheila hard on his heels. She was raucous in her annoyance.
'Ron. Ron. Get them both. Those bloody cats will tear their eyes out. Oh, Pom, come here darling.'
The protagonists ignored her cries. Pom and Pericles raced down the garden in hot pursuit, the cats spitting and clawing as they went. Sheila, abandoning any pretence of gentility, was shrieking at the top ofher voice.
Sir Ronald charged down the garden carrying a large spade, looking as though he intended to flatten any cat within reach. By now Pericles had really caught the spirit of the exercise and was doing his best to murder Chivers. Confused by all the barking and still only half awake, Sir Ronald launched himself at Hartley, missed his footing and plummeted headlong into his ten-by-eight pre-moulded glassfibre pond with two shelves at differing depths for water plants, where his Harris tweed suit, purchased to make him look like a countryman, rapidly absorbed a good deal of water. Forgetting the dogs Sheila went to his rescue. As she gave him a hand to climb out the cats left the scene of battle and hurried out of the garden. Pom and Pericles, well satisfied with the mayhem they had caused, returned to the house, drank deeply from their water bowls and then lay down, each in his own bed, to contemplate their part in the chase. What Ron and Sheila had not realised was that Flick had been
