Scandal in the Village (6 page)

The morning of the Harvest Festival dawned bright and sunny. There was a sharp autumn nip in the air but, as everyone declared when they opened their curtains first thing, ‘Grand day for the Harvest. Sky’s real clear.’

At a quarter to ten the ever burgeoning ranks of Scouts and Cubs, Guides and Brownies streamed up the church path carrying their harvest gifts. The church was already almost full and although Willie with Sylvia’s help had filled in every available space with extra chairs from the Sunday School they were beginning to run out of seats. Eventually they had standing room only behind the font, and Willie thought one more person and we shall have to build an extension.

But what a feast met their eyes. Being a special day the church silver, for which they all had great affection after their fight to save it, gleamed on the altar and the great candlestick stood behind with its huge creamy white candle lit. Its flickering light shone on the festoons of flowers and greenery overflowing from the sill of the great altar window. Huge vases of flowers and foliage stood around on the floor. In front of the lectern was a vast arrangement of orange and yellow flowers with delicate grey-white eucalyptus leaves cascading from it. Caroline had spent a long time on Saturday morning getting it just right, and even someone who knew nothing of flowers would see it was special.

Each window-sill down the sides of the church was decorated with fruit and berries and greenery. Small trails of ivy trickled over the edges dropping down the stone walls beneath. Mrs Jones couldn’t keep her eyes off them. She hated the thought of dismantling it all on Monday morning. Best do it tonight she thought, get it over with, though she’d be in the way of the people making up the parcels to go out to the children’s home and the old people. Still she’d be quick. The stone pillars had swathes of yellow and white cactus chrysanthemums securely anchored to them, the trailing greenery softening the sandy coloured stone, apparently held there by magic.

Sheila, from her privileged position in the front pew where she sat to allow her to prop her broken leg on a kneeler, if she just craned her neck a little could admire most of the church excepting the arrangement in front of the organ seat. She was overwhelmingly well satisfied with how things had turned out. In fact, despite all her problems of not being mobile, of nearly losing control to the Duchess, of pain and anxiety at the restraints her broken leg put upon her, she was intensely proud.

All their planning had worked out beautifully, far far better than she could ever have hoped in the circumstances. They’d had such a jolly meeting at her house after that dreadful night when she’d thought her committee had abandoned her. Louise had printed out all the schedules for her again and they’d got together and cancelled all the Duchess’s changes and restored the friendly atmosphere as though nothing had happened at all. Mrs Jones had her window-sills back and Lady Templeton her organ arrangement, Harriet had made a sheaf of corn as everyone loved her to do, and under persuasion from Dr Harris they’d agreed to allow the Duchess to arrange the flowers along the screen to the memorial chapel as a gesture towards good relations. Altogether the whole thing had become a major triumph for her, for the committee had demonstrated their loyalty to her beyond anything she’d any right to expect.

Grandmama Charter-Plackett arrived late. She had thought about not coming at all. that would show them! How she disapproved. But then it occurred to her that they wouldn’t care anyway. Probably wouldn’t even notice she wasn’t there. So she’d planned to arrive at the last minute.

At the organ Mrs Peel, quite by coincidence, was playing a particularly triumphant piece when Grandmama entered. Without realising it she marched down the aisle in time to it, looking from side to side for a seat, but there were no seats to be had. She’d hoped to be able to squeeze into the Templeton pew right down there at the front but it was filled by Muriel and Ralph and that gaggle of four Prior girls, some poor relations of Ralph, she understood, though it seemed surprising that he should have poor relations with his background.

There was one small space in the rectory pew. Caroline caught her eye and shuffled the twins further up and Grandmama could just get in next to those two awful sisters, Valda and Thelma Senior. Why they should have a prominent seat at the front of the church just because they’d decided to attend every single service that ever was held after being scared out of their wits with that witchcraft business last year before she’d arrived, she really couldn’t think. She just hoped they’d both remembered to wash properly before they came, they really were in very close proximity.

Caroline smiled a greeting when Grandmama got up from her knees. She was in church so she’d better be magnanimous so she smiled Caroline a greeting in return. She had to admit the church looked wonderful. Her own arrangement along the foot of the screen carved in memory of the fallen looked excellent. That was a prime site if ever there was one. Those blood-red blooms Mr Fitch had let her have mixed with the dark dark shiny green of the foliage and the red berries certainly were very fitting. Very appropriate. In fact everywhere looked very tasteful. Though the palms and rubber plants would have added that extra ... no perhaps they wouldn’t after all. She reluctantly had to agree that Sheila Bissett knew her stuff.

The Rector came in. He was a lovely young man. Pity Caroline was looking so thin. She was sure she’d aged ten years since that altercation in the Store kitchen. Though the twins must be very wearing. Alex was singing gobbledegook, out of tune, at the top of his voice and didn’t know when to stop for the end of a verse, and Beth was trying to tie her shoe laces and Alex’s together. Really! Caroline didn’t even seem to notice. She had eyes for no one but the Rector. And no wonder. That snow-white surplice he was wearing, dripping with antique lace made him look … well just too utterly … Grandmama pulled her mind back to the service.

If it was the last day of September today then her hospital check-up must be on Wednesday. Ten thirty if she remembered rightly. Oh good! lunch at Jimbo’s today. How nice. She could just see Fergus and Finlay in their Scout uniforms and down the other side just out of sight she knew Flick must be standing with the Guides. Fran she couldn’t see, Jimbo and Harriet must have been very late, because she hadn’t spotted them when she came in.

There was that Dicky Tutt! What cheek he had. Standing there bold as brass, the self-righteous little man. They all said he’d been away with Georgie, disgraceful. Hymn book in hand, singing his head off as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Holding himself up as an example to all those boys. She’d tell Jimbo to remove her grandsons from such a disgusting influence. If she glanced just behind her to her left she could see Georgie Fields, at the end of the pew. Good thing, she was only tiny she wouldn’t see a thing if she wasn’t on the end. Such a pretty woman. No longer in the first flush of youth but very attractive still. Georgie was watching Dicky! She was. How dare she. People had no shame nowadays. What could she see in him? He was a runt of a man really. Not quite small enough to be a jockey but not far off. That Dicky Tutt was kneeling in prayer. She peeped at him from between her fingers. Crossing himself too! A wonder he wasn’t struck by lightning. She’d have a word with the Rector. The kind of thing he was getting up to gave the Anglican Church a bad name, to say nothing of the Scout movement.

When prayers were finished and Dicky stood up to sing he looked across at Georgie. Oh! My goodness! Dicky had twinkled his fingers at her and winked! Georgie was blushing. At least she’d shame enough to blush anyway. Bryn, standing next to Georgie, tall and well able to see Dicky, went a dull red. Grandmama thought, he knows. He knows! There must be something in it then. He’s fuming. Georgie in her confusion dropped her hymn book. Not a few heads turned to see. Bryn bent down to pick it up for her. From the corner of her eye Grandmama saw him,
positively
saw him make up his mind. Before she knew where she was Georgie’s elbow had been gripped by Bryn and he was manhandling her down the aisle. Perhaps manhandling was too strong a word but she was speeding down the aisle, her feet scarcely touching the stones.

Willie, standing by the door, hastily opened it and let them out. The singing trailed to a standstill, leaving Mrs Peel playing to herself and then she stopped playing thinking she must have played one too many verses. Only Peter’s voice carried on without a falter, though Grandmama knew he knew because she saw him watching. Mrs Peel caught up with him and the congregation rallied and attempted to continue singing.

Peter carried on as though nothing had happened, and gradually the congregation pulled itself together. Though Grandmama guessed that quite a few of them would beat a rapid retreat to the Royal Oak at the end of the service.

Just when everything had settled down and she was enjoying the children doing their little play and the parents were beaming with satisfaction at their unbelievably talented children, Caroline fainted. Not dramatically or noisily, she simply slid off her seat and fell into the side aisle. Because the church was so crowded no one noticed at first what had happened. Grandmama was the only one alert enough to take action. She squeezed past Thelma and Valda who were dumbstruck, and past the two children who were beginning to cry and didn’t know what to do, and knelt down beside Caroline. She took off her fur jacket and propped Caroline’s head on it. Sylvia miraculously appeared from behind her and said, ‘I’ll get a drink of water. You stay with her.’ Grandmama fumbled in her handbag and found her smelling salts. Old-fashioned they might be but she was taking the only possible course of action.

Sylvia went into the choir vestry and by now there was a lot of attention being directed at their part of the church. The children carried on with their play and Peter sitting on a chair with his back to the congregation watching them didn’t notice what had happened.

The smelling salts brought Caroline round in a moment. Grandmama whispered, ‘No, don’t get up, not yet. Lie quite still.’

Sylvia came back carrying an old cup. ‘It’s all I could find. Here we are, Dr Harris, have a sip. That’s it. There we are. Sit up a bit. Lovely.’

Grandmama whispered, ‘We’d better get her out into the air. You get the twins.’

Caroline struggled to pull herself together, fearful of disturbing Peter’s service. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s the heat. I’ll get up now.’

Grandmama who was supporting her agreed. ‘We’ll go outside where it’s cooler. Come along.’

The congregation was clapping the children and it wasn’t until Peter turned to address it that he saw Grandmama helping Caroline out, with Sylvia following behind with the children. Willie, after a consultation with Sylvia, crept down the aisle to whisper to Peter. He nodded his head and then continued to announce the next hymn.

As Mrs Peel launched herself into the first line Peter went down the aisle and into the porch. Supported by Grandmama, Caroline was standing just outside breathing deeply and beginning to revive.

‘Peter! It was the heat in there and the smell of the flowers. Please darling, you go back in, I’ll be all right …’

He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Darling! I’m so sorry you’re not well. The fresh air’s making you feel better is it? Thank you Mrs Charter-Plackett for helping. I’d no idea.’

‘You get back inside. We can manage. I’ll take her back to the rectory as soon as she feels able.’ She let go of Caroline and wafted her hands at Peter. ‘Go along now. Everything’s under control.’

‘Will you be all right if I go?’

‘Of course. I’m much better now.’ So he went but didn’t know how he would get through the rest of the service. But it was like she said, the church was hot and the smell of the flowers too. Then he remembered their conversation in bed the other night. ‘I will tell you when I can.’

The children were clinging to Caroline’s skirt not knowing how else to show their concern. Sylvia said, ‘Come along, children, you lead the way. We’ll get the kettle on and you can give Mummy a lovely cup of tea. She’ll like that won’t she?’ They scurried away each holding one of Sylvia’s hands looking back all the time as they walked down the path. Caroline could hear Beth saying ‘Is my Mummy
very
poorly, Sylvie?’ Oh God, she was. She watched them walking away. She had to be strong, for their sakes. She had to fight.

Grandmama helped her home as soon as she felt able to walk. She didn’t come in; left her at the door for Sylvia to take care of, and went back to the service.

Only by a supreme effort of will, apparent to everyone there, did Peter manage to see the service through to the end. As he stood shaking hands with everyone and accepting their concerns for Caroline the truth dawned on him. How selfish could a man be? Occupied with his own work, striving to be a good pastor to his flock, being a father and a husband, the one thing he should have noticed he hadn’t. Caroline had been losing weight. In fact she looked quite ghastly. She’d been uncharacteristically short-tempered with him and irritable with the children and not the slightest bit interested in him as a man. Be blunt here, he thought, she hadn’t wanted sex, and that had always been one of the mainstays of their marriage.

He was standing at the door nearly twenty minutes, longing to leave, but so many people to see. So many reassuring him that Caroline would be all right, no wonder she fainted. So hot. Lovely service. Thank you, Rector. Lovely as usual. Never better. Sheila came hobbling out on her crutches with Ron in attendance.

‘Sheila! Many many thanks … The church looks wonderful, truly wonderful! Never better.’