The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (22 page)

Caroline turned over to look at him and the pain in her eyes choked him. In a voice which was scarcely audible she said, ‘I saw
her
. She was waving to
you
, wasn’t she?’

‘Dear God, Caroline, I’d no idea you’d seen her. That must have been the most tremendous shock. Why didn’t you tell me straight away? I didn’t speak because I thought you were asleep. I’m so deeply sorry that you’ve been suffering such pain. Please, my darling, believe me when I say I’ve been lying here trying to decide how to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I was searching for the right words.’

‘Oh, were you? I think you were hoping I wouldn’t know, but Alex ran out into the road after Sylvia, and I went out to catch him and saw her wave.’

‘It was goodbye. Before God, I didn’t know she was here. Neither did she. Know we were here, I mean.’

‘Yes, but you weren’t going to tell me, were you?’

‘I was. Believe me, I was.’

‘It’s always her who makes you not be truthful to me. The fact still remains that I’m going home tomorrow. You can tell the parish whatever you like, but that’s what I’m doing. I’m terribly afraid and all mixed-up. I can’t keep going any longer, so I’m going away. I’m leaving you. I’m leaving Turnham Malpas. I’m leaving the parish. Everything. I’m leaving it all.’

‘As God is my witness we only said goodbye.’

‘So you say. But I’m going. Going home.’

‘Can I tell you what we said?’

Caroline’s body jerked with anguish. ‘
No, you can’t
. I don’t want to hear. Not
one
word.’

The two of them were silent for a while and then Caroline, her voice strangely tight and jerky, said: ‘Did she ask to see them? Because she isn’t.’

‘She did, but she isn’t. I told her quite positively.’

‘I would have killed her first.’

‘My darling girl, I think maybe you’re overwrought through sheer lack of sleep and too much worry, don’t you?’

‘Overwrought! What do you think I am? Some brainless idiot with nothing better to do than find wrongs to magnify and dwell upon? Peter! You know me better than that. You’re reducing a deeply-felt anguish to a petty triviality. You must think me unbalanced. For God’s sake!’

Alex, who’d been quietly crying for some time, began screaming.

Peter swung his legs over the edge of the bed. ‘You stay there, darling, I’ll go.’

‘He won’t let you see to him.
I’ll
go.’

She got out of bed and climbed in with Alex and hugged him close. From sheer exhaustion she fell asleep and so did he. Secure in her arms.

‘For one last time, I’m begging you not to go.’

‘I am.’

‘You’re much too tired.’

‘I’m not.’

‘It’s far too far for you to drive with the children by yourself. I’ll take you. Please let me take you, and I’ll leave you there with the car and come back on the train. If you don’t want me there, that is.’

‘I don’t. Please, Peter, let me go. Just let me
go
.’ Caroline grew angry and was within a hair’s breadth of losing control. Her white face and clenched fists warned him how close she was to breaking down.

‘Very well. But for my sake, ring me when you get there, so I know you’re safe.’ He reached out intending to kiss her goodbye, but as though his touch would be the last straw, she sprang away from him and jumped in the car.

He stood watching her turn the ignition key, fasten her safety belt; his arms and his heart aching with love for her. The children, still covered in spots and looking flushed and uncomfortable, waved their small hands to him and Beth blew him a kiss. He couldn’t bear to see them go and quickly walked back into the rectory before the car moved off. He shut the study door, and stayed in there alone until Sylvia brought him his coffee.

‘Here you are. I’ll put it on the table for you, shall I? It’s nice and hot.’ She got no reply. ‘There isn’t much for me to do today. It looks as if Dr Harris did most of the washing and ironing yesterday. I’ve dusted round and got some shopping in, so I’ll go if there’s nothing else. Rector?’

‘Thank you. Thank you for all you do. There was no need to come in this morning. You’re more than kind.’

‘I’ll pop by tomorrow as well. Don’t worry if you go out, I’ve got my key.’ Sylvia looked at him and sighed. He was sitting so scrunched-up in the easy chair that he looked as though he’d shrunk. He’d shaved, she wouldn’t have expected anything other, but his skin had a grey tinge. He looked more like forty-eight than thirty-eight.

‘Don’t take on so. They’ll be back.’

Staring into space, Peter said, ‘Her parents still live in the house they had when the girls were all at home. There’s plenty of room for them, you see. They’ve a huge garden, and a dog. The children will be very happy there. So will she. She loves the wildness of Northumberland, especially the sea coast.’

‘She’ll be back. Trust me. Give her a few days.’

Peter looked at her for the first time. ‘May God help me if she isn’t.’

‘Ron! Ron! Are you there?’

‘In the bedroom.’ Sheila ran up the stairs as fast as she could, her shopping still in her hand. She closed the bedroom door after her. ‘Ron, you won’t believe this but Caroline’s left Peter.’

‘Sheila, for goodness sake! You’re spreading rumours again.’

‘I’m not, it’s true! They all know, they’ve just been talking about it outside the Store. Apparently Sylvia and Willie know the whole story but, of course, they won’t tell. I bet even the Gestapo couldn’t get it out of
them
.’ Sheila sat down on the bed; in a stage whisper she asked, ‘What about Louise?’

Ron looked at her through the mirror as he tied his tie. ‘God only knows. More trouble, I expect. When is she blasted well going to get a job? If only she’d move away.’

‘I’d better tell her not to go and see him.’

‘Don’t. She’ll do the opposite. Say nothing.’

‘All right then. I’m so sorry about it all.’ She took her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away a tear.

‘Come on, old girl, they’ll sort it out. Storm in a teacup.’

There came a tap on the bedroom door and Louise came in. ‘I’m just off to sort out the choir music. I promised I would and I’ve done nothing about it. It might take all day. I’ll come back for a sandwich, but don’t make anything for me just in case.’

‘Dad and I are going out, so we shan’t be here. There’s plenty in the fridge.’

‘You sound odd. What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing’s the matter. Off you go.’

Louise stopped at the Store to buy some chocolate to see her through the morning. By the till, elbows resting on the ledge in front of it, was a customer gossiping with Jimbo.

‘I’m telling you, Mr Charter-Plackett, I saw it with my own eyes. Just out with the dog and I saw her leaving in that big car of theirs. Loaded up as if she’s going for a lifetime. Pushchair, the lot. You don’t need me to tell yer why, do yer?’

‘Don’t I?’

‘Mean to say you ’aven’t ’eard? Yer slipping, you are. Where’ve yer been this weekend?’

‘We’ve all been away to a wedding. Got back late last night. What’s happened then?’

‘Well …’ The customer regaled Jimbo with the whole story, embellished by her own conclusions, but nevertheless the essence of it rang true. ‘Sly beggar, is that Mr Palmer. Still, quiet waters always run deep, don’t they? So we’re all concluding there’s been a rupture at the rectory because of ’er coming for the weekend.’

‘Rupture?’

‘Well, it’s certainly not rapture at the rectory, is it, let’s put it that way. How much do I owe?’

‘Oh right. Better pull myself together. Let’s see.’ He tried hard not to show how stunned he was by the news of Caroline’s departure. He’d been wondering what they’d all been talking about outside on the seat, now he knew. No, he kept telling himself, it was all hugely gigantic supposition on the part of the village. They were prone to that if gossip was a bit thin on the ground. All she’d done was go home because her parents were coming out of hospital. Still, taking two small children with her, with chickenpox …?

Louise quietly chose a bar of fruit and nut, paying Jimbo the exact money so she wouldn’t be delayed at the till and find herself betrayed by her boiling emotions. Safely out of the Store, she went swiftly over to the church. Caroline had gone! For whatever reason, she’d gone! Best of all, it wasn’t her fault but Suzy’s that she’d gone. That put her, Louise, in the best possible light; because she wasn’t to blame, she could rightly sympathise. Right now his nerves would be raw. Absolutely raw. He would need a salve for his wounds. He would need understanding and – dare she say it? – comfort. She, who loved him, would have to serve that need.

In the choir vestry Louise took her big Oxford notepad out of her briefcase, two pens, sticky tape and scissors, some coloured stickers, a highlighting pen and her fruit and nut. Where to begin? When your heart is thumping with joy it’s difficult to assemble your thoughts.
She’d gone! She’d left him!
Best way to tackle it was to make piles, give each pile a title and then sort each pile individually, check all the pages were there, mend torn ones, throw away sheets beyond repair, but make a note in case Gilbert wanted to buy replacements.
She’d gone! She’d left him!
When she’d got it all written down on paper then she could put it into the computer, and he’d have a complete schedule of the music.
She’d gone! She’d left him!

Gradually her heart slowed to a normal beat and she became absorbed in the music. At eleven o’clock Louise went to sit in the church to eat her chocolate, because every chair and every bit of floorspace in the vestry was covered with music. She was hot and sticky with clambering over the piles of music, so she chose a pew where she could rest her shoulder against the cool stone of a pillar. There was only one square of her chocolate left when the heavy church
door opened and, caught by an unexpected gust of wind, slammed shut with an earth-shattering clang. Louise peered round the pillar to see who had come in.

Oh God, it was him! She shrank back behind the pillar; she couldn’t face him. She looked such a mess. You didn’t have meaningful, crucial meetings with the man in your life, when your skin was hot and sticky, and your hair tousled and wringing with sweat, and your teeth gooey with chocolate. She ran her tongue round her teeth to clear them but what she really needed was a drink of water to get them clean. She hid behind the pillar and waited to see where he would go. Peter walked slowly towards the altar. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt; his red-blond hair was in disarray. He looked like a small boy who’d been severely reprimanded, and was at a loss to know how to recover his self-esteem. Indeed, he did look smaller than usual. How could he? That was ridiculous. But he did. He’d shrunk. He looked defeated. He stood before the altar, hands by his side, head bent, motionless.

She couldn’t get up and creep away; the slightest movement would be heard in the deep silence of the church. Louise, rigid with tension, her trembling hands clasping the chocolate wrapper tightly, daring it to rustle, longed for him to go. But he didn’t. He knelt to pray on the altar steps, his head thrown back, his arms outstretched for a while and then his hands clasped to his chest, his head bowed. Louise asked herself how could Caroline do this to him? How could she hurt him like this, reduce him to this? When someone loved you like he must love her, you didn’t leave them, no matter what they’d done. Caroline was destroying him. It seemed an eternity that she waited. She watched him cross himself and then he stood up and went to leave the church.

Louise was horrified by the expression on his face. She almost cried out with the pain of seeing him so consumed by his anguish. Never in a million years would she have the capacity to suffer as he was suffering at this moment.

She held on to her tears until he’d closed the door behind him, then they began to roll down her cheeks. Hot scalding tears – tears for his agony, tears for the love she finally realised he would never be able to return, tears for the unfairness of life in not endowing her with the ability to love as deeply as he. Bitter tears for her own foolishness in thinking she could ever win him for herself with her organisation and her lists and her highlighting pen. What a total idiot she’d been; she’d had absolutely no conception of how deep and enduring passionate love like his could be. There were tears for lots of things …

So noisy were her sobs that she didn’t hear the church door open for a second time. It was Muriel, come to search for her umbrella. She’d lost it times without number, but it had a charmed life and always seemed to turn up again in the must unexpected places. Hopefully it might be in church; it had a habit of appearing there and Willie was so good with lost property – she knew it would be in the vestry if he’d found it. She heard the weeping as soon as she closed the door, but couldn’t see anyone there. As she crossed in front of the pulpit, she spotted Louise, crouched by a pillar, hidden from view, her head bent almost to her knees.

‘Louise, my dear.’ Muriel went to sit beside her. She placed her hand on her arm and gently shook her. But sympathy made Louise cry even louder. Muriel dug in her pocket for a fresh tissue.

‘Here you are, my dear, use this.’ She sat stroking Louise’s hand, waiting for the tears to stop.