Read Scandal in the Village Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Muriel looked quite crestfallen. ‘But, Ralph, he needs someone like you to …’
‘No, he does not.’
She went to stand beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders she bent to kiss the top of his head. ‘Please, my dear, someone has to do something and we can’t expect Peter to with Caroline so ill.’
‘I am not. Sorry. And kissing me won’t make one jot of difference.’
‘Oh Ralph! Please.’
‘No.’
‘Then I shall.’
‘I expressly forbid you to say anything at all, Muriel. Let them sort themselves out.’
‘Forbid me?’
‘I beg your pardon. Of course I don’t forbid, but please take my advice and keep out of it.’
‘How can we, the whole village is agog.’
‘Then agog they will have to be. It’s becoming quite sordid and I don’t want to have anything to do with it.’
‘You must admit though, Ralph, if they weren’t all married it would be a rather wonderful romance. Telling all the world about how your heart feels. So romantic, so … compelling. It’s like a film. A nineteen fifties film like
Spring in Park Lane
with Anna Neagle, or
Brief Encounter
with Trevor Howard, when there was romance and not simply sex.’ She sighed longingly.
‘Muriel?’ He put down his pen and resting his elbows on the desk studied her face. ‘I do believe you like the idea of having messages left all over the village. Maybe I’m letting the romance in our marriage seep away through neglect. I shall have to think up something for you, maybe Dicky could give me some suggestions.’
Muriel blushed. ‘Oh no! not something like that. That would be too embarrassing.’
‘Then beware, my dear, if I discover you’ve been handing out advice to them all, I shall find a way of embarrassing you good and proper!’ Ralph chuckled at the consternation in Muriel’s face.
‘That’s blackmail!’
‘Indeed it is. But I shall, you may take my word for it.’
‘Ralph!’ She sped away into the kitchen quite overcome by Ralph’s teasing.
But the opportunity to speak to Dicky came the following evening and Muriel couldn’t resist the chance. She’d been busy all day and it was dark before she got an opportunity to call at the rectory with a cake which she hoped in some small way might help Sylvia. It was she who came to the door when Muriel rang the bell.
‘Good evening, Sylvia. I’ve brought a coconut cake, thought it might help.’
‘Thank you very much indeed. I really appreciate that. Coconut, lovely!’
‘What’s the news today?’
‘A big improvement. We’re all feeling much happier. She’s out of bed and she’s beginning to be more like herself.’
‘I’m so glad. He’s with her tonight?’
‘No, he’s presenting the prizes at the Guides’ annual whatever.’ Sylvia turned as she heard the study door close. It was Dicky with an envelope in his hand. ‘Got what you wanted?’
‘Yes, thanks. He’d left it out for me, like he said. Tell the Rector I’ll get it back to him before the end of the week. Oh, good evening, Lady Templeton.’
‘Good evening, Dicky. I’ll say good night then.’
‘Thanks for the cake, save me baking tomorrow.’
‘Good, I’m glad.’
Dicky and Muriel stepped out of the rectory together and the opportunity couldn’t be missed. Before they left the pool of light cast by the lamp over the rectory door, Muriel cleared her throat and took the plunge.
‘Could I have a word, Dicky?’
‘Of course. Can’t be long though, I’ve got Venture Scouts in ten minutes.’
‘Oh, it won’t take long. I had a word with Bel yesterday, I feel very upset for her.’ Dicky, the same height as herself, looked straight into her eyes without answering. Muriel grew uncomfortable, and she wished she’d never begun the conversation at all, she really should have listened to Ralph’s advice. But she had to say it. Just had to. ‘I can quite understand about you being captivated by Georgie, totally understand it, she’s a very attractive person and I know it can be difficult when they’re the light of your life and your feelings overwhelm you and you feel quite helpless and ... I ... I don’t mean to interfere, but it’s not right what you’re doing.’
‘Not right? Not right to be in love?’
‘Well, no, I can’t say it’s not right to be in love, we shouldn’t turn our faces against love at any time, but you shouldn’t be should you? In love, well, not with Georgie.’
‘Does love ask for your credentials before it strikes?’
‘Oh no, of course not. No, it doesn’t, but …’
‘“But”, Exactly. I can’t help it.’
‘All the world doesn’t need to know, though, does it? You don’t have to advertise the fact do you?’
‘What else can I do when it’s bubbling out of me? I’ve been well and truly clobbered by her and I can’t think of anything else.’
‘But your reputation. Think of that.’
Dicky gazed up the road, thought for a moment and then said very quietly, ‘I don’t care one jot for my reputation, not one jot. I love her and that’s all there is to it.’
‘Then at the very least you could think of Bel, think how it must be for her. I felt truly sorry when I heard what Bryn said to her in the Store yesterday, she must be feeling it very deeply. Often, you see, the cheerful, happy people are the very ones who hurt the most. So it’s Bel I feel the most concerned for, after all, she is
your legal wife
. You should think of her, first and foremost.’
Dicky didn’t answer immediately, he first looked deep into her eyes. He appeared to be weighing up if whether what he was about to say would be a good idea or not. He patted her arm and said ‘The word “legal” isn’t in the equation at all, so there’s no need for you to worry yourself about Bel. Good night to you, Lady Templeton.’
Peter had kept Caroline up to date with all the village news so when she came home ten days later there wasn’t a great deal she didn’t know. Except, of course, no one knew what had passed between Muriel and Dicky the previous Tuesday night. Sylvia went to collect the children from school and the first words they said to her were ‘Is Mummy home?’
‘She is.’
The two of them raced across the playground towards the gate.
‘No! No! Mind the road!’ Fortunately Miss Booth was by the gate and she stopped the two of them from leaving.
‘Oh, thank you, Miss Booth. They’re so excited, the Doctor came home this afternoon, you see, and they can’t wait.’
‘I know! They’ve talked of nothing else all day. I am pleased.’ Miss Booth patted their heads. ‘She will be happy to see you both.’
Beth nodded her head in agreement. ‘We’ve been to see her in hospital but I didn’t like that. I don’t like hospitals. Come on, Sylvie, be quick!’
‘We’ve got to cross the road properly, Beth, no matter what. Hold my hands. You as well Alex.’
Alex urged her to hurry.
They burst in through the rectory door shouting ‘Mummy! Mummy!’
‘In the sitting-room.’ Alex rushed in and flung himself upon her and hugged her but Beth stood outside the door peeping round it watching Alex greet Caroline. ‘Where’s my Beth? I’m in here, darling.’
Very slowly Beth walked into the room and stood looking at her mother. Caroline spread her arms wide and said ‘Come here, my darling.’
Beth unable to cope with the emotion she felt on seeing Caroline at home at last, fled to the kitchen to find Sylvia. But it was Peter who was making a drink for them all.
‘Why, Beth darling, what is the matter?’ he scooped her up into his arms and her chubby little arms squeezed his neck so tightly he could scarcely breathe. Her hot tears prickled onto his neck. He felt the cold of her cheeks and inhaled the fragrance of her hair, and hugged her close.
‘Dearest child, Mummy’s home now and quite safe. Come and say hello.’
‘I can’t, it hurts.’
‘Where does it hurt?’
‘I dunk it’s in my heart, I think it’s going to burst.’
‘No, it isn’t. What you need is Mummy to give you a hug, that will mend your heart. We’ll go in there together.’
‘Does your heart want to burst, Daddy?’
‘Oh yes. It does.’ He carried her through into the sitting-room and placed her on the sofa next to Caroline. ‘There we are. You hug Mummy, that’ll make it feel better.’
Caroline hugged her tightly and gradually Beth’s fear subsided, and the horrid broken jigsaw of her life fell slowly into order and she felt her world had been put to rights.
‘Mummy, Daddy needs a hug, his heart’s ready to burst too.’ So Caroline sat on the sofa with one arm round Alex, the other round Beth and Peter kneeling in front of her his head resting against her chest. Their tears dried up and when Sylvia came in with tea, which she’d finished making on Peter’s behalf, she stood with the tray in her hands in the doorway and smiled, a huge great beaming smile the like of which she felt she hadn’t done for days. At last everything was back to normal and she gave an enormous heartfelt sigh of relief.
‘Tea anyone?’
Caroline had refused to go to bed while the children were up. She talked and joked and listened and played herself to complete exhaustion. Peter took them up to bed and when they were happily tucked up, Alex with his teddy and Beth, with her thumb in her mouth, clutching old Boo Boo rabbit he went downstairs to Caroline.
‘Peter, I’m so tired.’
‘I can see that. You should have gone to bed sooner than this.’
‘I know but the children, they need to see me looking more normal, they need reassuring. You know?’
‘Let me help you upstairs. Have a sleep, eh?’
‘That would be lovely.’
He helped her undress and when she was safely laid in bed he suggested that he’d come up about ten with a hot drink, what did she fancy?
‘Tea I think and a piece of Sylvia’s cake, whatever she has on the go at the moment.’
‘Good idea. You need to get some weight back on.’
‘Don’t put pressure on me, please, I’ll get round to things in my own good time.’
‘Sorry, just anxious, you know.’ He hung her skirt and cardigan in the wardrobe, put her shirt and underthings in the linen basket and left her to sleep.
Peter sat for a long while in his study in the easy chair. He alternately thought and prayed, underscoring his gratitude for her coming through the operation with prayers of thanks to God. He had no living relatives, no one to turn to in times of need. Only Caroline and the children on earth. They were his whole world. This terrible threat to their happiness had heightened his awareness of how much he needed her to sustain him in his daily life, how much he needed her common sense, her humour, her strength. Caroline gave so much to so many people; to him, his children, her patients, her friends, her own family, the parish. They none of them could manage nearly as well without her.
On his desk were the pile of get well cards Caroline had brought back with her from hospital. He read through them one after the other, they were from parishioners, from family, from friends, many of them unknown to him. The last one right at the bottom was from David Lloyd-Jones. He didn’t pose any threat but the man could still waken feelings of jealousy. Peter had to laugh at himself.
She wasn’t out of the wood yet though, the specialist had said to him, but the prognosis was excellent. The hurdle of therapy still had to be faced, but he was determined to remain cheerful on that subject, yes definitely cheerful.
The little carriage clock on the study mantelpiece chimed ten o’clock. He went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, prepared a tray with an Indian cloth Caroline had brought back years ago, found the best teapot and cups and saucers and a matching plate and a lace doily for the cake.
When he entered the bedroom Peter laid the tray on his bedside table and looked to see if Caroline was awake. She was fast asleep, with Alex cuddled up on one side of her and Beth on the other. Peter debated what he should do, but decided to leave them where they were. The two of them would both heal quicker that way, sleeping close to her. He carried the tray into the children’s room and went to sleep in Alex’s bed, altogether envious of his children.
Grandmama burst through the front door calling, ‘Harriet, my dear, where are you? Are you there? Hello, Fran, my darling!’
Jimbo came out of the sitting-room. ‘Hello, Mother, what’s the matter, is there a fire?’
‘Not a fire, Jimbo, dear.’ She held her face for him to kiss. ‘I’ve got such news. You won’t believe. Where’s Harriet? What are you doing home at this time?’
‘Half day, I do have one occasionally, I’ve a function tonight.’
Harriet had been washing her hair and came down the stairs rubbing it dry. ‘Hello, Mother-in-law. What’s the news then?’
Grandmama nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. Jimbo and Harriet followed her in.
‘Didn’t want little Fran to hear, the children aren’t home yet are they?’
‘Another half an hour. Why?’
Grandmama seated herself at the kitchen table and digging into her handbag brought out a small plastic bag. ‘In here is the piece I need for repairing my sewing machine. It’s so old they’ve stopped stocking the spare parts for it now and I’ve searched all over and found a little man in Culworth who’s managed to get it for me.’
‘Is that it? Is that the news?’ Jimbo was very disappointed, he’d expected a murder at least.
‘Of course not. But you should be delighted for me, I’ve really missed not being able to use it. I’m going to make things for charity. I’ve a very good line in stuffed dolls, they are very stylish, of course, they’re not some arty crafty rubbish masquerading as designer dolls. However, while he was finding out how much I owed him this chappie asked me if I lived in Culworth and I said no I lived in Turnham Malpas, so he said in that case then you’ll know Dicky Tutt. He knows Dicky because it’s where Dicky works in the office that the sewing machine man managed to get this piece from, so he knows Dicky very well, you see. Been dealing with Dicky’s company for years and years. So we got talking about what a nice man he is and what fun, which he is, and I said his wife’s lovely too, she’s the village school caretaker and she works for my son.’ Grandmama paused and looked at them both to make sure she had their complete attention. ‘Then he said … You’ll never believe this . . .’
Jimbo stood up. ‘Now look, Mother, I’m not having you going round spreading rumours again. You’ll please me if you keep this all to yourself, I really don’t want to know. Your rumours have proved dangerous in the past, so you are stopping right there.’
Harriet intervened. ‘Steady on, your mother’s only telling us what he said, she hasn’t made it up has she?’
‘Thank you, Harriet, for springing to my defence. As Harriet said, I’m only repeating to you what he said to me.’
‘I don’t want to hear what some piffling sewing-machine repairer has to say about anything. Now please, Mother, say no more. If all you have to talk about is unreliable gossip then you can leave right now.’
‘Jimbo! I think …’
‘I don’t care what you think! and if I hear that you’ve breathed one wrong word, and I say that again,
one wrong word
about Dicky Tutt then you’ll have me to answer to. I mean that, Mother. Whatever this chappie claims, it in no way affects the brilliant job Dicky does with those boys.’
Grandmama stood up. ‘I’ll go before the children come home. If you don’t want to hear my interesting news then so be it. But don’t expect me to tell you anything at all, ever, in the future. Coming from someone who loves a tasty piece of gossip, I think you’re being two-faced. Anyone else’s gossip is all right but mine isn’t.’
‘No, it isn’t, and you’re not to repeat it to anyone. I had thought you’d learned your lesson. apparently you haven’t.’
Grandmama stormed from the house, Jimbo’s ‘I mean what I say’ following her out.
Harriet went to put the towel to dry on the radiator. ‘I’m afraid you came down a little too heavily there Jimbo.’
‘Since when have you been on Mother’s side?’
‘I’m not, but even so I can be fair to her.’
‘I’ve put the frighteners on her on purpose. Tough measures for a tough cookie. that’s what.’
‘She was only telling us what he said.’
‘The thing is Mother’s assuming this man in Culworth is right in whatever it is he’s told her. He could be quite wrong.’
‘I wonder what it was he said? You shut her up far too soon, I would have liked to have heard what it was.’
‘Harriet! You’re as bad as Mother.’
‘OK. OK. I’m going over to see Caroline for five minutes. I won’t stay long. Her mother’s driving down tomorrow, so it’s best if I go today. I’ll just brush my hair.’
‘Give her my love.’
‘I will.’
The following morning Malcolm was late with the milk because the baby had been awake half the night, and Ted was early so they both arrived at the Royal Oak at the same time.
‘Morning, Ted.’
‘God you look awful.’
‘It’s the baby, yer long for ’em to come and then … He went to sleep just as it was time to get up and I dropped off by mistake. Eh! Look at this.’
He was examining the window boxes. There were three under the long window between the two entrances. Each one had been filled with winter pansies by Georgie and the ivy which had been burgeoning in the summer was hanging on by a thread now the cold weather had come. All the way along the front edge of each box were red roses, stuck into the soil. Each and every one had a small heart-shaped label attached with the word Georgie written on it with a red pen. They looked like very tall guardsmen on parade. There must have been three dozen Ted reckoned. ‘He’s at it again. There’s no stopping him is there? The daft beggar.’
‘Wouldn’t like to be in his shoes when Bryn finds out. Blasted miserable sod he is nowadays.’
‘Hardly surprising is it considering? Would you like it if your wife was being courted under your very nose?’
‘I’m not daft, I ain’t married.’
‘Well, then. Leave yer milk and let’s be off before he finds out.’
‘He won’t be up for a bit yet.’ Malcolm left his regular crate of milk for the dining-room and went off. Ted put the letters through and checked he’d not forgotten any, not after the last time.
When finally they both got up, Georgie asked Bryn to bring in the milk as they hadn’t sufficient for breakfast, so it was he who saw the roses first.
Bryn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How could this man do this to him? How could he? He was being made a laughing stock. That was the part he resented the most; being made to look a fool. Georgie and he belonged to each other. When they’d married he’d lusted for her like nobody’s business. So pretty, so petite, so lively, he couldn’t resist her and they’d built such a good business, such a good following in the other pub and now here, the dining-room, the bar. They worked together so well. The hours were crippling agreed and he wasn’t coping with them quite as easily as he used to, but there you are. Open all hours, what else could she expect.
Well, she damned well wasn’t seeing these. He’d pull them out and get them in the wheelie bin before she saw them. Swiftly he raced along the boxes pulling out the roses as he went. The thorns scratched his fingers, tore at his hands, made his wrist bleed but he didn’t care. When he’d got the last one out he glanced round to see if anyone was about and then raced round the outside to the wheelie bin in the car park, and back again in a trice.
‘Bryn, where’s that milk? I’m dying for a cup of tea.’
‘Just coming.’
The morning went along as usual. Alan came to start work and Georgie disappeared to make the bed and to pretty herself up ready for opening for the lunchtime trade. The chef arrived to start work on the dining-room food, and his assistant, a brash blonde with more bounce than brains came too. Bryn began to congratulate himself on a successful outcome to his secret piece of sabotage.
By a quarter to one the regulars were in and a very good sprinkling of people who’d booked tables and were having a drink before sitting down to eat. Jimmy was in, it being his day off, and Willie and Sylvia too.
Jimmy wiped the froth from his top lip and asked why Willie and Sylvia were in at lunchtime?
‘My day off and the Rector said Sylvia should take a day off too with working so much when the doctor was in hospital. So we’re having a drink and then having lunch and then we’re off into Culworth.’
‘Lunch, eh?’
Sylvia saw immediately what he was hoping for. ‘Care to join us?’
‘I’d like that if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all, do we, Willie?’
Willie shook his head. ‘You’re welcome.’
Jimmy smiled his thanks. ‘Dr Harris all right, is she?’
‘Getting better every day. We’re right pleased With her. The Rector’s smiling again, thank goodness.’
‘Caught sight of him in Culworth one day when she was in hospital, he looked terrible he did, something terrible. Poor chap. It’s hard when yer love like they do and …’
They’d all heard the phone ring but took no notice, it was probably a booking for the dining-room, but from the sound of Georgie’s voice it wasn’t a run of the mill conversation. She put the receiver on the bar counter and, lifting the flap, crossed to the outside door and went out. Bryn, who was collecting up empty glasses from the table by the fire watched her go. His heart began beating rather fast. He slipped across to the counter, picked up the receiver and shouted ‘Get stuffed!’ into it and quietly replaced it on its cradle.
Everyone was aware a drama was being played out and they eagerly awaited Georgie’s return. By the time she came back in Bryn was pretending to straighten his collection of brass toasting forks hanging above the fireplace. She marched across to the phone and stood gazing in surprise at the receiver.
‘Did you put this receiver back?’
‘Receiver? No.’ Bryn stopped to have a conversation with a customer, keeping a wary eye on her while he did so. She was standing looking at the telephone, then in an instant they could see she made up her mind. Georgie was round the counter and standing in front of Bryn before you could say Jack Robinson.
The customers jointly held their breath.
‘It’s you isn’t it? You’ve taken the roses out of the window boxes?’
Roses in the window boxes in October? What did she mean?
‘Roses? Me?’
‘Bryn Fields, you’re lying to me. It was you, I can see it written all over your face. You lying cheating so and so.’
‘What do you expect me to do? Stand by and let that little runt of a man court you as though you were free to be courted? Well, you aren’t and I shan’t. The worm has turned. I pulled them out and stuffed them in the bin, and I shall do whatever is needed to stop that nasty little beggar from stealing you from me. We’re a team you and me.’ He gestured with his arm to the counter and the customers. ‘We’ve built this up, we’ve made it what it is, him with his two penny ha’penny office job couldn’t keep you like I can, never in a million years.’
‘What good doe’s it do me having money in the bank? We never can enjoy it. We’re always too busy. Too busy for fun. Always the bar, the bar, the bar, day after day. At least he is amusing and alive and he
cares
which is more than can be said for
you
! I’m sick of it, Bryn, sick of it. I’m going now to get the roses out of the bin and I shall find the loveliest vase I can and put them in it and stick it right here at the corner of the bar for all to see, and don’t you ever dare put the receiver down on any call of mine ever again.’
Sylvia couldn’t but admire Georgie’s spirited defence of her lover. ‘But she shouldn’t say all that in front of everybody. Give Bryn his due he took her in the back when he wanted to protest.’
Jimmy disagreed. ‘More fun though out in the open. What do they mean by the roses? He must have put some outside at the front. That Dicky! He’s going to be in serious trouble he is.’
Willie said, ‘He’s daft he is, absolutely daft. Rector’s not going to be pleased. It’s no example for them boys, no example at all. He should behave right, he should. This is plain daft.’
At this point Georgie came back in carrying a huge cut glass vase filled with Dicky’s red roses. Some were looking a bit worse for wear but most were still quite splendid. She placed the vase right where she said she would, where the counter curved round, no one could miss them.
Bryn who’d been swashing some glasses through the soapy water in the sink behind the counter watched her out of the corner of his eye. Dropping the pint tankard he was washing, which fell with a great sploosh back into the sink, he reached out and swept the vase clean off the counter. It smashed into a thousand pieces on the stone floor. Water and roses and shards of glass were everywhere. Georgie burst into angry tears and beat at Bryn with her fists, but he thrust her aside.
Two customers had to jump back to avoid the water and flying glass, two more walked out in disgust. Sylvia stood up and said, ‘Get me a dustpan and brush, Georgie, I’ll give you a hand.’
‘You won’t.’ Bryn moved towards her as though daring her to interfere.
Sylvia held her hands, palms upwards in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Very well, I won’t.’
Willie moved to her side. ‘Don’t you dare threaten my wife.’
Belligerently Bryn replied, ‘If you don’t like what’s going on then you can always leave.’