Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘It’s about the play. I wondered if the Rector’s wife would be able to give me an interview. I’m reviewing it tonight for the paper and I thought a little background information would be a good idea.’
‘Not in.’
‘Oh! That’s a pity. I was hoping to see her. The Rector, then. Is he in?’
‘No.’
Smiling her most gentle smile, her little-girl-in-need-of-help-and-sympathy smile, she asked, ‘Are you in the play? You look as though you might be, you look the adventurous type.’
‘I am not.’
‘I’ll call back later, when they’ve both returned.’
‘Don’t bother. They’ve nothing to say.’
‘Nothing to say? I can hardly believe that, not with the great Hugo Maude in it. Surely he of all people must have caused something exciting to happen! Such a handsome man, so charismatic. Every female heart a flutter, eh?’
‘We’re very level headed here, takes a lot to surprise us.’
With a twinkle in her eye the reply came back, ‘I’ve heard one or two things.’
Despite the reporter’s persuasive interviewing techniques Sylvia retained her resolve to let nothing slip. ‘Well, I haven’t and I work here.’
‘Oh, I see. You’ll know a thing or two about your delightful Rector’s wife, then? Bet you’ve a few stories to tell. Leading lady, I understand. Who could play opposite Hugo Maude without being charmed, and he is a real charmer, don’t you think?’
‘That he may be, but it’s nothing to do with the Rector’s wife, believe me.’
‘I’m shutting the door. Right now.’
‘Oh please …’
But the door shut with a crash. Knowing when to accept defeat, the reporter went off to the Royal Oak and Sylvia returned to the sitting room where Caroline was flicking through her script.
‘Who was it at the door?’
‘It’s not my place to say it, but I’m saying it.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Sylvia, with her arm fully extended, pointed in the direction of the door. ‘That
person
was a reporter. That person was asking me about you. She’s found out, goodness knows from whom, what’s been going on. I may lose my job over tins but I won’t stand by and watch the Rector being crucified any longer. You and the Rector and your children mean more to me than anything I can think of. At this moment you are tearing them apart.’ Sylvia stamped her foot. ‘Just what are you thinking of with this business with Hugo Maude? Tell me that.’ She stood arms akimbo and waited for Caroline to reply.
Caroline stood up, her face taut, her eyes blazing. ‘
Nothing
is going on between Hugo and I. Nothing at all …’
‘I don’t know how you can stand there and
lie
like that. We all know. Every man jack of us in this village knows. You can’t fool us, even if you’re fooling yourself; which you are and make no mistake about that. I don’t know how the Rector faces everybody each day, I really don’t.’
‘I’m afraid you’re overstepping the mark now, Sylvia.’
‘It’s not me doing the overstepping, believe me, it’s you and it’s got to stop. Just think what you’ve got to lose. And the children. God help us, it would kill them if you left.’
‘Who said anything about leaving? Not me! It’s none of your business, none at all …’
‘It is though! I’ve loved those children from the first moment I clapped eyes on ’em. They’re like my own flesh and blood …’
‘But they’re not, and the whole business is entirely my concern and not yours. That is enough.’
‘Right.’ Sylvia began removing her apron. ‘This is breaking my heart this is, but you have my notice as of now. This minute. I will not be a party to this kind of behaviour. Perhaps if you have to manage without me you might, just might come to your senses, because at the moment you’ve no sense left. Not one jot or tittle left. You must be out of your mind. I can’t bear standing by and seeing the Rector …’
‘Always the Rector, what about me? Don’t I have a life besides being his wife?’
‘When you really get down to it, unfortuntely you haven’t. But then you knew that when you fell in love and married him, so it’s no good complaining now. You weren’t a young untried girl, you knew exactly what you had to face. He’s the loveliest man any woman could hope to have, and there’s dozens out there who’d jump into your shoes in a trice, but the pity of it is there’s absolutely no one else for him, but you. It’s the same for the children, no one else for them but you, you’re their strength and stay. You’re in danger of forgetting that and casting them aside, and all for what? All for
what
, ask yourself that! All for
what
?’ Her lovely grey eyes full of tears, Sylvia turned away and left the room.
Distraught, Sylvia went about the kitchen picking up the bits and pieces which were hers; the comb she always left here, the apron she kept for the afternoons, the hand cream she kept by the kitchen sink, the old mac in case it rained.
All treasures which she had thought were permanent belongings in the Rectory. Leaving the house quietly, she wandered off to the church in search of Willie to ask for the comfort only he could give at this appalling moment. She sat down on the seat he kept just outside the boiler house door where it caught the sun, and gazed out across the churchyard waiting for him to appear. The morning sun was creeping round casting lovely shadows over the grass. Such a peaceful, restful place and yet her mind was in turmoil, her heart was thumping and her legs felt like jelly. In the depths of despair Sylvia warmed her face with the rays of the sun; a face down which tears were falling.
I should never have said all that. But it’s true. She’s being led away by that … mountebank. That womaniser. Now I’ve lost my job. Hang the money, I loved it. Willie’ll be retiring soon and we definitely need it, but … There’d be other places, other people who needed domestic help. The Rector would give her a reference … but maybe he wouldn’t, not after what she’d said. Caroline always came first with him. Like the reporter had said, he was a gorgeous man.
‘Hello, Sylvia! I’m looking for Willie.’ It was Peter, the sun catching his red blond hair making it resemble a halo. Sylvia tried to stem her tears.
Peter sat down beside her and quietly asked, ‘Can I help?’
There was a silence and Peter waited, then Sylvia admitted she’d given notice.
‘I see. Your immediate notice?’
Sylvia nodded.
Intuitively he answered, ‘She’s having a very difficult time.’
‘I know, but so are you.’ She patted the hand resting on his knee.
Peter studied Sylvia’s face for a moment. ‘Indeed.’
‘You’re being far too kind, far too considerate to all concerned.’
Peter sighed. ‘What would you have me do?’
‘Go for it.’
‘For what?’
‘Him.’
‘You think so?’
Sylvia nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I do. He’s to blame. Catching her when she’s so vulnerable. Her life up to having that cancer had been all glorious. You know, loving parents, happy family life, good at school, head girl, prizes and such at medical school, high praise in every direction. Then she marries you, then you give her the children and she dotes on them, she truly does, and then she got knocked sideways with the cancer thing. It came as a terrible blow. Really beaten into the ground she’s been, and somehow this business is all part and parcel of getting over that.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘I love your children, and I don’t want to live to see them have their hearts broken. But … well, that’s what’s going to happen if something isn’t done and quick. But don’t ask me what, ’cos I don’t know. The pendulum’s swung too far in his favour, and it’s to be stopped. You see I can’t believe he means all he says to her. At bottom he’s a very lightweight person, a child, a kind of Peter Pan. She must be the only person in the village who doesn’t know who else he’s chasing – well, not chasing, he’s already caught her from what I hear. Get my meaning?’ Her voice caught in her throat and made her pause. ‘I’ve said much too much and I’m very sorry. She’ll never forgive me.’ Sylvia wiped away a tear. ‘Never!’
‘We’ll see. Like you, I do now believe something has to be done.’
‘Oh yes. And quick, before it’s too late.’
He’d left his car keys in the vestry so he entered the church by the main door, intending to retrieve them. Peter shut the door behind him and began to walk down the aisle, but paused by the tomb Willie claimed was haunted. Sleeping in his favourite place on the top was Jimmy’s dog Sykes. Peter tickled him behind his ear, a practice Sykes adored. His short, stubby tail gently wagged his appreciation. Giving him a final pat Peter recommenced his walk down the aisle, but then stopped in his tracks.
Kneeling on the altar steps was Caroline, her head in her hands. He stood watching her, trying to decide whether or not to go and kneel beside her. Before he had decided what to do for the best she shuffled herself around and sat on the steps, her forearms resting on her knees, her head bowed, totally unaware of his presence. All the love he felt for her coursed through him right to his very feet and he longed to give her the comfort of his arms, to hold her, hug her, heal her. Yet he held back sensing that perhaps it was not
his
arms which could do any of those things at this moment. Space, like he’d said last night – was it only last night that he’d lost his temper? – space was what she needed and that was what he would give her now. So despite his surge of desire to hold her to him he turned and quietly left.
The keys could wait.
After an uneventful lunch prepared by Caroline, during
which they’d exchanged small talk and nothing more, Peter left for the hospital to visit Jeremy in intensive care.
Slumped in a chair beside his bed was Venetia. She leapt to her feet when she saw who their visitor was.
‘Oh, Peter!’ She made a hasty and useless attempt to tidy her hair, straighten her sweater, and generally pull herself together. He’d never seen her devoid of make-up, and seeing her now he realised just how devastated she must be about Jeremy’s brush with death.
‘I’m sorry I look such a mess, I’ve been here all night. It’s kind of you to come.’
‘Not at all. Any improvement yet?’
Venetia shook her head. ‘Still touch and go. He’s not conscious. Damn him!’
‘It wasn’t his fault!’
Venetia slumped back down in her chair and rubbed her hand across her face. ‘I know.’ Then she studied Jeremy laid there fastened up to all the paraphernalia of the seriously ill. Damn him! I’ve ignored his existence all the time we’ve been here. Laughed at him, scorned him, belittled him, taunted him … shamed him …’
‘Shamed him?’
Venetia looked up at Peter and he saw the conflict going on behind the weary eyes. ‘Yes, shamed him. I thought he didn’t care about me and had never noticed what I was up to, but all the time he had. All the time he knew about me … you know …’
‘No, I don’t know.’
Venetia looked surprised. ‘You mean that, don’t you?’
Peter nodded. Venetia reached forward and took hold of Jeremy’s hand, looking at him and not at Peter, she told him, ‘I’ve been unfaithful to him time and again.
Time and again
. This time is the last time, the very last time …’ She stopped abruptly, looked at Peter for a moment and then
continued. ‘But if …
when
he comes out of this, I’m going to propose. I never knew until yesterday, when I thought he’d died and it was all too late, how much he meant to me. He’s been so loyal, despite everything I’ve ever done to him, a perfect gentleman all the time.’
‘I see.’
‘Together we’re going to beat this weight business. It’s comfort eating, you see, because he thought I didn’t love him when he loved me so much. He was right. Well, he wasn’t right, I
did
love him but I didn’t realise, you see. So his weight is my fault, and my fault alone.’ She patted the still hand and then looked at Peter. ‘Cruel is the only word to describe me. I’ve never felt so full of sin in all my life. Do you think God will ever forgive me?’
‘God always forgives those who truly regret what they have done.’
He saw hope in Venetia’s eyes. ‘Then He’s even greater than I thought if He can forgive me for what I’ve done to Jeremy.’
‘He is: greater than any of us can comprehend.’
Venetia pleaded with him. ‘Will you remember us in your prayers?’
‘Of course, we all will.’
‘I’ve been praying all night.’
‘Keep at it, he is still here.’
Still gripping Jeremy’s hand Venetia said, ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think. This last two years I’ve lived two lives. One at church and helping Kate with the youth club, and the other as the old Venetia, like I’ve always been. From now on there’s going to be only one Venetia. The nicest and best Venetia, living in the world you live in.’
Peter smiled. ‘The world I live in?’