Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) (26 page)

At last, thought Alice, he’s starting to behave like a grown-up human being. She left a silence and then suggested that, as Charles had fallen asleep beside his toy box and Ralph was still asleep in his pram, she was free to go make coffee for them both.

‘I’ll make it, point me in the right direction.’ By the time Chris had had two goes at making a decent cup of coffee the kitchen looked as though a maniac had been let loose in it. But Alice didn’t care because she recognised this was his first effort as a member of the human race. When he offered to clear their cups and to take the coffee pot into the kitchen, she smiled to herself. Maybe. Just maybe.

‘Alice. Where’s Johnny this morning?’

‘He set off to Home Farm to look at some young bull calves he bought for this veal project he and Jimbo are starting up. They’ve arrived this morning.’

Chris, exhausted by his efforts to become a normal human being, decided he’d go and find Johnny and see what he was doing, because staying in the house with two babies wasn’t his idea of a fun day. Briefly, his thoughts went to Fran and what he might have been doing if she hadn’t given him his marching orders. What was it about her that attracted him so much? She was so completely different from the women he usually favoured. In his right mind he wouldn’t have given her a second glance. Did he do what he did to her because he was bored? Chris felt momentarily ashamed that that might indeed be the truth.

Chris strode off towards Home Farm in Johnny’s spare pair of wellington boots and a rubbishy anorak of his that Alice had found in the boot-room cupboard. He caught sight of himself in a mirror on his way out of the house and ruefully admitted that perhaps he might have to buy himself a proper weather-proof country outfit to wear when he came next time. Next time? What was he thinking of? There’d be no next time.

Chris and Johnny got home for lunch about one. The two of them were obviously excited by Johnny’s purchase. ‘They look too young to leave their mothers to me, Johnny, is it right?’

‘They’ll get well looked after. Other than coming here, they’d have been shot.’

Chris was appalled. ‘Shot?’

‘What use is there for young bulls? The heifers will grow to become milking cows, but who wants a field filled with bulls?’

‘I see your point. Do people in England eat veal?’

‘Didn’t used to, but they will when Jimbo’s done his job; you heard how enthusiastic he is? If they know they’ve been cared for properly, that’s the main factor with veal; and in this diet-dominated world today, the fact that it is very lean helps.’

‘I see.’

When Alice went off to feed the ever-hungry Ralph, and the two brothers were sitting comfortably in the study, Johnny asked Chris, ‘Are you going home straightaway?’

‘Of course. I’ve made a real mess of this business with Fran, haven’t I?’

‘You have.’ Johnny waited for Chris to speak again, but he didn’t. ‘She deserves better than this.’

‘All right, all right. I expect you’ll tell me the same as Alice. I shouldn’t have treated her like the tarts I find in Rio.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But I do have such fun with them all.’

‘But they are not marriage material, Chris. That’s if you want to marry. Maybe you prefer to be a lonely, ageing bachelor all your life, with loads of so-called friends so long as the money keeps flowing. But that’s not a fulfilling life for a man. However, if that’s how you want it, so be it.’

‘Unlike you, I’m not into nappies and howling babies depriving me of my well-earned sleep; I can’t think of anything worse. I want a life full of fun, not responsibilities and commitments that eat up all my time.’

‘Like I said, it’s up to you. But whatever you decide you do not go anywhere near Fran again, right? Not for any reason at all. You leave her to get on with her life, and that’s an order. She’s beginning to look livelier than she was and so I’m glad about that.’

‘You sent her those flowers, didn’t you, with my name on them?’ Chris got a nod from Johnny, affirming he’d guessed right. ‘Anyone would think you were some kind of father-figure for the whole village. The idea makes me want to throw up.’

Johnny ignored him. ‘Saturday is Bonfire Night. You saw the size of the bonfire Barry Jones has constructed? There’s even old furniture on there. It’ll be some fire, believe me. You could stay on and light it with me and Charles if you like. Apparently it’s tradition for the owner of Turnham House to light the fire, and so I’m definitely committed.’ Johnny smiled invitingly at Chris. ‘After the bonfire and the burning of Guy Fawkes, we’ll have a big firework display. Jimbo used to do spectacular ones but he’s too busy nowadays, so I’m getting professionals in. There’s a beer tent, baked potatoes to eat round the bonfire, a refreshment tent with hot food, that’s run by Jimbo and so the food’ll be good.’

Very cautiously, Chris nodded in agreement. ‘I might just do that, and go home the next day. This is Thursday, so there’s only Friday and then Saturday, and then home. I might just tolerate that.’

‘Don’t overdo it on the enthusiasm side; it might indicate a change of lifestyle, and that would never do.’

‘OK. OK. I get the message.’

‘So, they say he’s staying until Sunday so that he can help Johnny light the bonfire, which is a bit surprising when you think about it, ’im being in everyone’s bad books,’ said Dottie.

Sylvia eyed Dottie, unconvinced that the last piece of gossip was correct. ‘Well, that’s a big turn around considering how he’s behaved. He thinks we’re all country bumpkins, but we’re not, are we?’

‘Absolutely not. By the way, you know Fran’s got that little kitten from the cat rescue and it looks like a Siamese but it isn’t. Well, you’ll never guess who’s gone and bought its brother . . .’

‘Who?’ But Sylvia never got her reply because at that very moment in walked Johnny, followed a moment later by Chris. Johnny headed straight for their table, and asked if they could join them.

Embarrassed to death, Dottie and Sylvia both agreed and said of course they could. But they felt as if their evening was in splinters. Now what on earth could they talk about? Not kittens and definitely not Fran Charter-Plackett, and they certainly couldn’t ask Chris if he was enjoying his stay because they knew he wouldn’t be.

‘Now,’ said Chris, using all his charm as only he could, ‘what are you two ladies drinking because I’d like to get you another drink if you’ll allow me.’

‘Well, thanks,’ said Dottie, ‘I’ll have a white wine now. Georgie knows which one I like the best, and Sylvia here, you prefer vodka and tonic at the moment, don’t you?’

‘In that case then that’s what I’ll get for you.’ Chris went across to join Johnny at the bar, and Sylvia and Dottie covertly observed him chatting to Georgie as though they were old friends. Out of the corner of her mouth, Dottie said, ‘There’s been a big change in ’im. You don’t suppose he’s back with Fran, do you?’

‘I hope not, he’s not right for her. Oops!’ Sylvia was mortified because Johnny had come to sit down with them and she hadn’t realised, being too busy watching Chris. But Johnny was too much of a gentleman to make a comment and so she got away with it.

He did, however, ask Sylvia where everyone else was.

‘It’s the blessed World Cup or something, and they couldn’t come out till they’d got a result, and so Barry, Ford, Willie and Zack are all over at our house watching telly, and there’s another half an hour before it finishes. Georgie won’t have a telly in the pub, you see, which I’m glad about.’

Chris arrived with the drinks and was duly thanked. A small silence fell until it occurred to Sylvia to mention the kitten’s name. ‘About the only interesting news we’ve got to impart is that Mrs Charter-Plackett has bought a kitten. It’s a boy and the brother of Bonnie that belongs to Fran.’ In her head she wished she could cut her tongue out, what a blinking stupid subject to bring up again. ‘Anyway, you’ll never guess what she’s calling it.’

No one, not even Dottie, offered the right name and in the end she had to say it. ‘Clyde, of course.’

‘Clyde? Where did she get that from?’ asked Dottie hurriedly filling the silence.

Sylvia nudged Dottie saying, ‘That film, you know,
Bonnie and Clyde
. Apparently Fran thinks it’s hysterical.’

‘That’s just the sort of idea that would make Fran laugh.’ Chris said this, and smiled at the thought. ‘You’ll have known Fran since she was born?’

Together they both said, ‘Yes.’ And Dottie decided that a complete change of subject was required because she certainly wasn’t going down that road again, not likely. ‘Did you know that Beth Harris has gone back to university at last.’

‘Why did she leave?’ Chris asked.

‘Not happy. Decided she needed a year off to grow up. Well, she’s been back there must be two months now, and she’s absolutely fine. Thank goodness.’

‘She’s a twin, isn’t she?’ Chris asked.

‘Yes, she is.’ Under the table Dottie felt Sylvia give her a warning nudge with her knee.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever met her twin.’

‘Alex his name is. Tall like his dad and a lovely young man, same as his dad. Very clever; he’s at Cambridge too.’

Chris recollected a conversation he’d had with . . . he couldn’t remember who but they’d hinted . . . ‘Isn’t there something odd about them? Didn’t the rector adopt them?’

Johnny tried twice to divert the flak from Dottie and Sylvia, but twice Chris pursued his suspicions. ‘I’m sure I’m right, aren’t they his, but not . . .’

Dottie said firmly, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to leave. Things to do. Sorry. Thanks for the drink.’

‘So have I,’ added Sylvia, and the two of them stood abruptly and tried hard not to look conspicuous by rushing out, which was what they both would have preferred.

Outside they halted for a moment. Dottie dabbed at her face to cool herself down. ‘We couldn’t tell him, could we, not him. He wouldn’t belong if he lived here fifty years.’

‘Not a patch on his brother. If you belonged here, you could tell Johnny you’d done a murder and he wouldn’t let on.’ Sylvia debated what to do next. ‘I tell you what, come to our house. The football will be nearly finished; they can go to the pub, and we’ll have a quiet drink on our own, eh? What do you say? See if there’s a good film on.’

‘Lovely. Just the ticket.’

Johnny and Chris had moved to a smaller table after the two of them left, and Chris still felt annoyed that he’d been denied his answer to the Alex and Beth Harris question, and so he asked Johnny, ‘Have I offended them in some way?’

‘Not offended, no, but you’ve stumbled on a big secret that only the villagers know about, and they tell no one who they consider does not belong to the village.’

‘You know though; why not me?’

‘Because you don’t belong.’

‘I belong to you.’

Johnny agreed he did.

‘Well, are you going to tell me?’

‘No.’

Chris took umbrage at this. ‘So how many years do I have to live in the village to be allowed to know their secrets?’

Johnny grinned at him. ‘Something like fifty years.’

Chris couldn’t believe it. ‘Fifty years. My God! The sooner I get home, the better.’

‘Yes.’

‘You really want me to go, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You mean it, seriously?’

‘Yes, at least until you learn how to behave in a place like this.’

Chris leaned across the table and asked softly, ‘Go on, give me a hint what that much admired, beyond reproach, well beloved rector did? More importantly, to whom?’

‘No. It’s his secret. Ask him, and if he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.’

‘Damn it, Johnny, I am your brother.’

Johnny grinned at him. ‘You daren’t ask him because you know one look from his candid all-penetrating eyes will be your undoing. All the sins you’ve committed in the last twenty years will be revealed to him in one long look. He’s well known for it.’

‘He won’t find out my past, believe me. Right. I’ll ask him. I’ll go round to the church tomorrow morning and I’ll ask him, if he’s there.’

Chris did as he promised he would. Chris caught Peter playing the organ which he had to admit he did very well indeed, and so he sat to listen for a while out of sight from the organ behind a stone monument. And when Peter switched the organ off and headed for the vestry Chris followed him, knocked on the vestry door and pushed it open.

‘Good morning, rector. May I have a word?’

Peter was searching through some files in a cupboard and turned to see who was asking to have a word. ‘Ah, I thought it might be you.’

‘You did?’

‘The accent, it’s just something a bit different from an English one. How can I help?’

The compassionate understanding smile on Peter’s face, no different despite the passing years, almost made Chris decide not to ask him the heavily weighted question on his lips. But he did. After all, he didn’t belong in the village, a fact he was never allowed to forget, and he didn’t want to either, so it didn’t matter to him if he offended. ‘There’s always this mystery about you that no one is ever willing to explain, not even my own brother will tell me, and so I’m asking it now. The entire village has it as its secret but not me.’

Peter turned away to pick up a file from the table behind him. ‘Yes?’

‘I’ll come right out with it. Who is the father of your children? Alex and Beth?’

‘Me.’ Peter turned to face him.

Wow! Chris thought, those eyes of his such a bright blue, but somehow . . . Then he became frighteningly aware of Peter’s penetrating glance, the deeply thoughtful look, and somehow wished he’d never . . . ‘So, it’s not you it’s your wife, she was the unfaithful one.’ He hesitated as he caught a change in Peter’s attitude. ‘No, I’ve got it completely wrong, haven’t I?’

Peter’s facial expression changed to one of cold anger. ‘Yes, you have. I am disinclined to discuss this any further. It is an entirely private matter, and you can go back to Rio with the problem unresolved because it is no longer a matter for discussion between you and me.’

‘Look here, are the children your wife’s? I understand you prefer honesty, so let’s have all our cards on the table.’