Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins (30 page)

‘You should talk to Henry.’

‘I CAN’T. HE’LL LEAVE ME IF I DO THAT. I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WANT. ALL I KNOW IS THAT I CAN’T GO ON LIKE THIS AND YOU’RE NOT HELPING.’

There was an abrupt break on the line and then the dialling tone. Sidney was shaking. He hated confrontation. It reminded him of being in trouble at school or being reprimanded by his parents. He felt his insides churn and had a desperate need for the lavatory. He had to talk to Hildegard, but she was reading with Anna. His daughter was eager to tell him about her progress as soon as he entered the room. ‘Daddy! I’ve done a drawing!’

She held up a bit of paper that looked like an early Jackson Pollock. ‘Very good, my darling.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Hildegard asked.

‘Amanda. She’s angry.’

‘She’s never cross with you.’

‘She is now.’

‘Look, Daddy!’

‘Perhaps it’s about time,’ Hildegard said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Daddy, my drawing.’

‘Are you going to have to go down to London?’

‘Probably. But not just now.’

‘Daddy, look now, Daddy. Look.’

‘You will tell me, won’t you?’ Hildegard asked. ‘I don’t want you running off without me knowing where you are. People do ask, and we don’t have Malcolm to cover for you any more.’

‘He didn’t cover for me.’

‘He did. All the time. I think I miss him more than you do.’

Anna asked once more. ‘Look
properly
, Daddy.’

Sidney refused to rise to his wife’s challenge and left to see Canon Clough. He wanted to talk about Virginia Newburn. The letters had to be from her. But what had she got to do with Amanda?

He began by asking if Christopher had any notes from his admirer.

‘Hundreds. Do you want to see them?’

‘I am interested in her handwriting . . . and in her past.’

‘Are you prepared to take her on then, Sidney? To be honest I could do with some respite. These things tend to get out of hand.’

‘Only if you let them.’

‘Then I’ll leave it to you.’ Canon Clough opened a desk drawer. ‘How many of them do you want?’

‘Four or five will do for now. What do they say?’

‘Pretty much the same thing again and again: how lost she is, that I am one of the few people who understand her, how understanding is the key to knowledge and that knowledge is an act of love. I’m sure you’ve come across this kind of thing in Grantchester.’

‘No, I haven’t actually.’

‘Then you must have led a very sheltered life.’

‘I suppose one
could
say that,’ Sidney answered, careful to keep his sleuthing skills discreet. He was surprised that Canon Clough was unaware of his reputation. Perhaps he was not as well known as he thought he was.

In the Prince Albert pub that night, Inspector Keating compared the letters written to Christopher Clough with one of the notes sent to Amanda. He said that he would have to show it to the experts, but even an amateur eye could tell that there was little that the two hands had in common. Virginia Newburn’s style was small, delicate and slanting to the right, whereas the poison-pen letters were constructed in a much larger size, with straight, bold strokes, heavy pressure and angled to the left. Miss Newburn’s prose was fluent and grammatically accurate, whereas the threatening documents contained spelling errors and erratic punctuation. Sidney wondered whether this could have been done deliberately, but Keating was fairly sure that it would have taken a good degree of skill to be the author of both hands.

‘But if Virginia Newburn is not the author of the letters then who is?’ Sidney asked.

‘I think it’s high time you had a word with the fiancé.’

‘Amanda won’t be pleased.’

‘And she’s happy now?’

‘It would be taking quite a risk, Geordie.’

‘And when have you been known to shirk a little thing like that?’

Sidney could not just drop everything to talk to Amanda but thought about his tactics as he made his way to visit a sick parishioner who lived near Chettisham Meadow. It was filled with the fineness of early summer, and he wondered whether he should gather some wild flowers for his wife. He thought fondly of Hildegard for a moment, missing her and quite forgetting that one of the reasons he had left was to escape the constant noise of piano lessons. She had been putting Adam Barnes through his paces and Sidney could only be relieved that he wasn’t a pupil himself as he remembered Hildegard’s running commentary through the music.

‘Play with your body! Use more muscles – not just in your hands but in your arms, your shoulders, your back, and your stomach – conduct the piano – command it – your playing is too shallow, Adam, get down inside the ivory, play to the bottom of the keys. There’s a whole orchestra inside there and you are the conductor.’

Lost in his reverie, Sidney looked up to see the same woman in the distance that he had seen before. It wasn’t Amanda, but he wasn’t sure that it was Virginia Newburn either. Byron began barking, something he never did, either with Amanda or with Miss Newburn. Who on earth could it be?

He made his way home and was stopped by the dean, who expressed surprise that he had not been recognised. ‘I think you are in a world of your own, Sidney.’

‘I must be. However, I don’t quite know what that involves. I’m not sure that I’m secure about anything at the moment.’

‘I thought you might have a few teething troubles. A priest can find it quite lonely sometimes.’

‘Yes, I see . . .’ (Although Sidney couldn’t ‘see’ anything at all and was merely worried what on earth the dean was going to tell him next.)

‘As priests we also have to be more careful than most in our selection of friends.’

‘Yes, I have always found that to be the case.’

‘One must not get too excited too soon. Or overenthusiastic.’

‘I quite agree.’

‘With women, particularly.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘Miss Newburn. She is, I think you will have gathered, a dangerous combination of vulnerability and volatility. It’s no surprise Canon Clough has dropped her.’

‘I don’t think he was ever holding her.’

The dean winced at Sidney’s flippancy. ‘These are serious matters, Canon Chambers. You will tell me if there is anything amiss?’

‘I will inform you of anything I think you need to know. Otherwise I shall try not to trouble you.’

‘I am not sure that I find that reassuring.’

Before Sidney could see Henry, Amanda telephoned again. It was almost midnight and there had been a new development. That night the doorbell had rung in her flat. When she had opened the door she had found no one outside, but a bouquet of a dozen dead roses had been left with a simple note:

As dead as your love will be
.

She told Sidney that she was so upset she had gone to stay with her parents in Chelsea. She planned to take a few days off work and was effectively going into hiding. She did not know what to do about Henry. Could Sidney perhaps see him after all? He was staying at the Lansdowne Club.

‘How much does he know?’

‘Nothing.’

‘And how much do you want him to know?’

‘Tell him everything, Sidney. I only wish I’d listened to you before. Anything to make this stop.’

Sidney had once toyed with the idea of joining the Lansdowne Club but it was too much of a luxury and it was simpler to enjoy the facilities as one of Henry and Amanda’s guests. He assumed their marriage was still on the cards, but it could hardly be right for Amanda to be bullied into a situation where she was taking refuge at the house of her parents while pretending to her future husband that all was well. Clarification was necessary.

As they settled down to their gin and tonics, Sidney began to question Henry about his reluctance to get married in church. As a widower, there was nothing stopping him from doing so and Sidney suggested that it might be nice for Amanda to have a bit of a do.

His companion, however, was adamant. ‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind.’

‘I suppose if you’ve had one church wedding already then it might feel strange. Was it a very big occasion?’

‘On the contrary it was rather small. Connie didn’t have much of a family and we didn’t want anything too fancy.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘She worked for my tailor. My father had ordered half a dozen suits for me and Connie made the trousers. I don’t think I was supposed to marry her. My parents certainly disapproved, but there you are, these things happen and, when they do, you can’t do much about them.’

‘I imagine she was very beautiful.’

‘She was more distinctive than an obvious beauty. Dark-red hair, freckles, an elfish look, the kind of smile that turns a man’s heart.’

‘You must have been very much in love.’

‘We felt we didn’t need to know each other.’

‘And you were happy?’

‘It was passionate. She was frail. Perhaps it was always doomed. But I think we were happy. Certainly at the beginning . . .’

Sidney decided that he would return to the subject later but wanted to check on one thing before he forgot. ‘Tell me, were you friendly with anyone else who worked with her at the time?’

‘There was a whole team. Gerald Lowe is a reputable firm.’

‘Indeed. Lowe of the Row,’ Sidney continued. ‘Did you ever meet a girl called Virginia Newburn?’

‘She and Connie were friends . . .’

‘She’s one of my parishioners. She lives just outside Ely.’

‘I wondered what happened to her. She was always quite religious. I thought she might even become a nun. But she was Roman Catholic, surely? I can’t imagine her as one of your flock.’

‘She is now. You haven’t seen her recently?’

‘Not at all. She and Connie fell out, I’m afraid.’

‘Over you?’

Henry Richmond crossed his legs. ‘It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to say.’

‘You mean that Virginia Newburn was keen on you?’

‘I wouldn’t quite put it like that.’

Sidney leaned forward. ‘How would you put it?’

‘I don’t think it ever got that far. In any case, as soon as I saw Connie there wasn’t any other outcome in my mind.’

‘But Virginia Newburn held a candle for you?’

‘If she ever did it went out long ago. I don’t think it was that serious. In fact, you would probably have had a better chance than me. I seem to remember that she was always talking about her priest.’

‘She seems predisposed towards clergy.’

‘And are you on the receiving end?’

‘No. I am fairly sure her current desire lies elsewhere.’

Henry Richmond summoned a waiter for a refill. He was keen to move to surer ground. ‘I don’t know why women become so attached to priests. They must know they are on a losing wicket.’

‘Not all the time. Some priests string them along, I’m afraid. I try to play with a straight bat.’

‘Unless you’re knocked for six, I suppose?’ Henry asked, exhausting the cricketing metaphor. ‘I think you were once rather keen on Amanda yourself, weren’t you?’

‘A long time ago.’

‘First love can be very deceptive. I think it’s easier now that we are more mature.’

‘And you are happy with everything?’ Sidney asked, keeping his questions as open as possible.

‘I think so. Amanda’s nervous, I can tell. She’s had her share of near misses. You can’t get to our age without some history. The trick is to keep it in the background.’

‘I agree,’ said Sidney, ‘although sometimes the past has a habit of springing back to life.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you know anything about the anonymous letters Amanda has been receiving?’

‘Not at all. What on earth are you referring to?’

Sidney explained.

Henry Richmond swore that he knew nothing. ‘Why would anyone do such a thing?’

‘It could be someone who is still in love with you.’

‘Is this a long way round of telling me that you suspect Virginia Newburn of sending these letters?’

‘It is. But they could also come from someone who is in love with Amanda. Whatever the case, someone wants to put her off your marriage. Can you think of anyone who would try to do that?’

‘I’m not sure I can.’

‘What do you mean you’re not sure? Does this mean that there is a possibility?’

‘I may have to think a little more.’

‘If you do, can I suggest that you discuss this with Amanda?’

‘Why has she not told me about all this herself?’

‘I think she didn’t want to alarm you. In any case . . .’

They stopped. The porter was at the table and had been waiting to interrupt for some time. Sidney was wanted on the telephone.