Village Gossip (3 page)
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘What do you mean? I’ve just told you now. You knew what I would be doing. I should have gone back long
ago. How long have I had off? A year? No, more than that. It’s ridiculous.’
‘No, it isn’t. You don’t have to work. If you want to be at home then at home you will be. I love it. You being at home.’
Caroline went to stand behind his chair and put her arms around his shoulders resting her cheek on his. ‘Peter! I know you do, but there isn’t enough for me to do.’
‘There is, now Sylvia is doing fewer hours.’
‘The children don’t need me like they did. Not like when they were tiny.’
‘I see. You’ve exhausted the mother bit so now you can wander off footloose and fancy free.’
Caroline, shocked by his attitude, drew away from him. ‘That is absolutely uncalled for and quite untrue. You’ve upset me.’
Peter stood up and went to look out of the window.
‘I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m ashamed of myself.’
‘You should say it if that’s how you feel.’
‘I don’t, not really. But I hate your preoccupation when you’re working. You bring your problems home and I feel shut out.’
Mockingly, with half a smile on her face, Caroline answered, ‘Oh dear! Poor little boy! Not got my full attention. Oh dear!’
Still looking out of the window Peter said, ‘I suppose in part it’s this old-fashioned idea that as the man of the house I should be the one earning the money. When you’re in practice you earn far, far more than I do and could ever hope to do and it hurts, which is ridiculous but true. It kind of rankles. But I’m sorry for what I said.’
‘And so you should be. If I want to work, I shall. I find it so
satisfying
, don’t you see? You have a brain, you know
how stultifying it can be not using it. Why do you think you do so much study and reading and writing articles for the papers? You’re really a very scholarly man. The congregation hear only the tip of the iceberg of your learning. Well, it’s the same for me, I need to use
my
brain too. And this business about the money. Your private income boosts your stipend enormously and we agreed when we married that your remuneration by no means equated with what you have to do, and that we wouldn’t use it as a yardstick. Here you are doing that very thing.’
He didn’t reply. Caroline went to stand behind him. She laid her head against his back and put her arms around him again. ‘We musn’t argue about this. I love you dearly. I love the children to bits. But I just need that something more to make life really worthwhile. And don’t worry about my health. I’m fine and I wouldn’t go back if I didn’t feel up to it.’
‘But before when you worked, the children were so distressed …’
‘I know, darling, I know. But they’re older now and they understand better. But I’ll give you the promise I gave you before. If they get upset I shall stop working. Right? They come first. So do you, for that matter. Can three people come first?’
Peter turned to face her. ‘I want only the best for all the ones I love. I love you, so very much.’ He looked her full in the face, adoring her fine creamy skin, the long straight nose, the deep brown depths of her eyes, and the way her dark hair curled almost childlike around her face. He pulled her close to him, bent his head and kissed her. A kiss which turned into a paroxysm of tiny kisses around her mouth, and then her throat. His eagerness for her was overwhelming.
‘Peter! We musn’t! Wait till we’ve eaten our pudding
and I’ve cleared away.’ Caroline tried to push him away but he had her held in a firm grip. ‘Please! We can’t come down in the morning to the kitchen in a mess. Sylvia will be absolutely appalled and will wonder what we’ve been up to. Please!’
Abruptly he released her. ‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I beg your pardon.’
‘Oh God! We have got our wires crossed. You haven’t to apologise to me for wanting me! Right now
I
want
you
! It’s just the timing that’s wrong. Hey!’ Caroline reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘For wanting to clear up in the kitchen?’
‘No! Do I go back to work with your blessing?’
Resignedly Peter acceded the point. ‘Of course you should go back to work if that’s what you want. You don’t need my permission to do as you choose. I’m not going to turn sulky about it. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t want to go back to doctoring.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Yes, exactly so.’
Caroline thought she detected a sigh. She ignored it and cleared the table, then came back from the kitchen carrying a strawberry gâteau.
Peter’s eyes lit up. ‘That looks fabulous! Did you make it?’
‘Of course. We’ll have some now and then the children can help us finish it off tomorrow.’
As he finished the last mouthful Peter laid down his spoon and fork and sighed. ‘That was brilliant. Superb. Let’s do without the coffee. We’ll clear up and then I’m taking you to bed.’
Peter left the dining room carrying the pudding plates and she stood gazing out of the window, listening to him stacking the dishwasher. However much he disliked it, she
was going back, but she wouldn’t let him suffer. He of all men needed support, because of the relentless, unrewarding, lifelong task he had undertaken when he was ordained. He deserved all her love.
Caroline carried their unused coffee cups into the kitchen. Peter turned to look at her. ‘That was a lovely meal. It’s fun eating with the children, but this meal on our own on Sundays is very pleasant.’
‘Indeed it is.’ There was a pause and then she said. ‘You are right.’
‘About the meal, you mean?’
‘No, about me having to be circumspect.’
‘Ah!’
‘Sorry I let it happen. But he is fun.’
‘He is. Great fun.’
‘But I will be careful. Will this dish fit in the dishwasher or shall I wash it in the sink?’
‘Leave it to soak. The cat flap’s open, the back door is locked. Everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion and now we’re going to bed.’
By the time Caroline had finished in the bathroom, having let Peter take first turn while she made sure the children were nicely tucked up and she had indulged herself remembering how once she’d longed to have children in bedrooms to check on before she went to bed, and how she wished she had more than she had, Peter was already sitting up in bed. As she walked towards him he swung his legs out to sit on the edge and began unbuttoning her shirt.
‘I promise I won’t let work get in the way of … damn it!’ Caroline stood between his knees and pulled him close and kissed his mouth deeply and pleasurably, adoring his taste and the sharp, fresh smell of the soap he’d used. Heart and soul, mind and body she loved him. ‘I love you so very
much. I wouldn’t willingly do anything to harm you and yours.’
‘And I love you. Every single inch of your body, every single inch of your mind. Every single inch of whatever it is that’s you, I love.’
By this time her shirt was off and he was unzipping her skirt. She kissed the top of his head. ‘Somehow, every single centimetre wouldn’t sound nearly so passionate and meaningful, would it?’
Peter pulled at her skirt. ‘Wriggle out of it. That’s it. Whoever invented tights?’
‘A nun?’
‘I’m sure stockings were much more fun. Just think of me undoing those lacy suspenders! One by one.’
‘Gladly.’ She helped him finish undressing her. He got back into bed, lifted the duvet for her and she slid under it and lay beside him. She relaxed against his naked body, enjoying the gentle exploratory touch of his fingers, and feeling amazed yet again that he never failed to create this wondrous sensation in her. She grinned and said, ‘Peter?’
‘Mmmmm?’
‘I’m glad it was you I married, because I find your vigorous sexual appetite so gloriously satisfying.’
‘Good morning, Turnham Malpas Rectory, Caroline Harris speaking.’
‘It’s me, Harriet. I’m in a hurry. What night are you free this week?’
‘I’ll check the parish diary. Hold on.’ She gripped the receiver between her jaw and her shoulder and took a lopsided view of Peter’s diary. ‘By the looks of it, unless something comes up today, Peter’s only free night is Wednesday. Why?’
‘Wednesday it is. I’m having a dinner party. Will you come?’
‘Love to!’
‘Eight for eight-thirty?’
‘Lovely. Nothing special is it, not birthday or anything?’
‘No, just for fun. See you.’
Caroline put down the receiver. Dinner party. Lovely. Just what she needed. What should she wear? Harriet and
Jimbo had seen just about everything she had. Should she? … Yes, she would.
Sylvia was in the kitchen filling the washing machine with bed linen.
‘We’ve had an invitation to dinner from Harriet and Jimbo. On Wednesday. Will you be able to sit in for us?’
‘Delighted. It’s ages since you went out to enjoy yourselves. What time?’
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘Fine. You won’t mind if Willie comes too?’
‘Of course not. I’m off into Culworth this morning. Is there anything you need?’
‘Nothing I need, but you did say you’d see about some new sheets for the children’s beds.’
‘I did. I’ll get those while I’m there. I shan’t be back for lunch but I shall be home before you leave.’
‘That’s lovely. Have a good time, enjoy yourself. You could do with a change.’
‘I’m looking dreary, am I?’
Sylvia contemplated Caroline. She looked her up and down, especially at her face, her lovely grey eyes taking in every contour. ‘You’re looking so well, so wonderfully well. But people your age need to be in the swing of things, and what with caring for the Rector and those two lovely holy terrors of yours and all the things you do for the church, you do get bogged down with good deeds. So go swing a loose leg and enjoy yourself. I’ll answer the phone and things.’
‘Thanks, Sylvia. I do appreciate all you do for us. How we would have managed without you when the twins first came I do not know.’
Sylvia switched on the machine and, with her face turned away from Caroline so she wouldn’t see the tears beginning to rise in her eyes, ordered her off the premises quick smart.
Driving to Culworth was the easy bit, parking when she got there was a whole different ball game. A huge new car park had been provided by the council a matter of only a year ago, but already it wasn’t big enough to cope. Eventually she found a space in the station car park.
Culworth wasn’t exactly a metropolis as far as fashion shopping was concerned, but there were a couple of dress shops still calling themselves ‘boutiques’ which she favoured, one in the market square and the other in Abbey Close.
Coming to the market square she tried that boutique first. Madame Marie-Claire could find nothing to suit her. Caroline left amidst a hail of apologies.
The other boutique, named ‘Veronique’, at least gave Caroline a choice. In the curtained cubicle with its gilt chair and wall-to-wall mirrors Caroline tried six dresses. One was red and close fitting and up-to-the-minute and outrageous. She remembered another red dress, not hers but someone else’s, worn in defiance at a dinner party at Harriet’s many moons ago, when she, Caroline, sick with longing to have Peter’s children had offered him a divorce when they got home. The black? Too severe. The green? Bilious. The blue? Too safe. The other black? Too matronly. Silvery grey? Didn’t suit her mood.
‘Look, Veronica, I like this red the best, but I’ve got to have time to think about it. I shall be back, because I must have something new to wear, but it is a bit daring, isn’t it, for me?’
‘Maybe it’s right for your mood, though. Whatever you’ve purchased here in the past has been elegant but cautious. But this … this says something, doesn’t it?’ She
held the slim red dress up in front of her and swirled it around and made it look as though it was doing a tango all by itself.
‘It does. And that’s the trouble. Dare I?’
‘The colour is very flattering, your dark hair and eyes, you know. If you were fair like your daughter then I would say no because it would obliterate you. But this … oh la la!’
Caroline loved it. ‘I’ll go have lunch and then I’ll come back. Is that all right? Do you mind, keeping it on one side for me?’
‘Not at all, for a valued customer like you, Dr Harris, anything is possible.’
‘I’ll pop into the Belfry for lunch and have a think.’
At twelve-thirty the Belfry Restaurant was rapidly filling up. A waitress signalled an empty table in the corner by the window. She wended her way between the tables, took off her jacket, hung it on the back of her chair and sat down facing the crowded room. She remembered sitting here at this very table when she’d tried to tell Peter she had cancer and realised she couldn’t find the words. The menu didn’t seem to have changed much. A shadow fell across it and she looked up ready to apologise to the waitress because she hadn’t yet made up her mind. But it wasn’t the waitress, it was Hugo Maude.
‘It is Caroline, isn’t it? What an amazing coincidence. I decided to come out this morning to get out of Jimbo and Harriet’s hair for a while and they suggested here for a quiet lunch. They didn’t say I should find you lunching here. May I?’ He put his hand on the back of the other chair and raised his eyebrows at her.
‘Of course.’
‘Do you often eat lunch alone?’
‘I can’t remember the last time I had lunch alone in Culworth. I came in to …’
‘Yes?’
‘Have a change of scene.’
Hugo put his head to one side and studied her. ‘And why not? Have you ordered?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘I’m having the lamb cutlets. I perused the menu in the window before I decided to come in.’
‘I will too, then. Are you enjoying your convalescing?’
Hugo’s face became bleak. ‘I need applause, you know. Pathetic, isn’t it? A grown man. I miss it very seriously indeed. It kind of feeds me.’
‘It’s applause you deserve, according to Peter. He saw you in
Macbeth
some years ago. He thought you were brilliant.’
‘Peter? Who’s Peter?’
‘My husband.’
‘Not the Rector?’ Caroline nodded. ‘Amazing. He has real presence, hasn’t he? He should have been on the stage.’
‘You’re joking. The only place he wants to be is where he is. In the pulpit.’
‘Truly amazing. But you’ve no children?’
‘We have two, a boy and a girl.’
The waitress came and Hugo ordered for the two of them. ‘Wine also?’
‘No thanks. I’m driving.’
‘No wine, then. Mineral water, please.’ He smiled at the young waitress and she must have found it devastating for she blushed to the roots of her hair.
Caroline couldn’t resist taunting him. ‘You really are a charmer, aren’t you? Do you do it deliberately?’
Hugo looked appalled. ‘Of course not. I’m just naturally charming. But what about you? I find you very interesting.’
‘How can you? You don’t know me.’
‘But I’m very sensitive to the people I meet. It’s all part of being an actor. We have to get into the characters we play and the habit somehow creeps into real life. I can
feel
people’s auras, and yours is reaching out to me. How did you come by the children?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I sense they’re not yours. The emphatic way you replied and the slight hesitation as you chose your words.’
Caroline, avoiding his glance, said quietly, ‘No, they’re not mine.’
‘Ah! Sorry. Obviously I’ve touched on a sore point. You’d feel better if you accepted it, welcomed the situation, faced up to it instead of covering up about it. It happens all the time, people adopting children, you know. But there’s something different about this, isn’t there? I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but you’re shielding someone, aren’t you?’
‘I think you’d better eat both our lamb cutlets because I don’t want mine. I think you’re behaviour is quite insufferably rude to someone you’ve only just met. You must think that your fame gives you
carte blanche
to offend,
carte blanche
to ride roughshod over people’s feelings. Well, you’re not riding roughshod over mine, thank you. I’ll pay my half on the way out.’ Caroline gathered her things together and rose from her chair, almost blind with rage.
Hugo rose too and held out a restraining hand. ‘Please, please accept my apologies. I’m so sorry. Believe me, I really am.’
‘Too late, I’m afraid.’ Her anger infuriated her. How could she be so foolish as to make such an undignified exit from such a public place. That was twice now that he’d made her feel a fool. But he’d cut right to the core of her,
for she was shielding Peter, let there be no mistake about that.
She strode lunchless into ‘Veronique’ and bought the red dress without even trying it on again.
‘You’ll love wearing it,’ Veronica said.
‘You’re right, I shall.’
After a great deal of deliberation Caroline bought an elaborate Indian silver necklace in the ethnic shop at the corner of Deansgate and a lipstick in Boots, tried on several pairs of sandals hoping to find a pair suited to her new dress, but didn’t, and went home to Peter.
She put her car away and entered the Rectory through the back door. One glance at the clock told her that Sylvia would already have left but that she still had half an hour before she collected the children from school.
Caroline dumped her purchases on the kitchen table and couldn’t resist another look at the dress. She flicked it out of the carrier and held it in front of her. Her conclusion was that she must have had a brainstorm. What was she thinking, buying a dress like this? She would look a complete idiot wearing it at a dinner party in the country. Caroline flung it down on the table. She heard laughter coming from the study and went to stand in the hall to hear better.
It was Hugo talking to Peter. She hoped he wasn’t using his amateur psychoanalysis on Peter. Better take the bull by the horns.
As she opened the study door she said, ‘I thought I heard a voice I recognised.’
‘Hello, darling, had a good day? Hugo’s called to return your jacket, you left it in the restaurant.’
‘Oh! Thank you. I hadn’t realised. Thank you very much.’
Hugo bowed slightly. ‘Not at all, my pleasure.’ A silence fell.
Caroline filled it by offering to make tea before she went to meet the children.
Hugo refused. Peter accepted.
‘I’ll go make one, then. Won’t be long.’
She could hear Peter seeing Hugo out and heaved a sigh of relief.
Peter came in the kitchen for his tea. ‘You know he really is very pleasant. Considering his fame, he is a very modest chap, doesn’t push it in your face like some would.’ He saw her making a sandwich. ‘That’s not for me, is it?’
‘No. It’s for me.’
‘I thought you’d had lunch with Hugo.’
‘No, I walked out.’
‘Walked out? Why?’ He saw her shopping on the table. ‘That a new dress? It looks extremely eyecatching.’
‘It is. I walked out because he got me very angry and I’m not telling you why.’
‘Oh, I see. I won’t ask, then.’
‘No, don’t. Here’s your tea. I’ll move my shopping.’
Caroline devoured her sandwich with one eye on the clock.
Peter drank his tea. ‘I’ll collect the children, if you like.’
‘Thanks. We’ve been invited to Harriet’s on Wednesday. I checked the parish diary, you’re free and Sylvia’s promised to sit in.’
‘Oh good, I shall look forward to that.’
‘Yes, I expect you shall.’
‘Shall I be taking you in that dress?’
‘You shall. If I dare to wear it. Not quite the thing for a Rector’s wife, is it, do you think?’
Peter heard the challenge in her voice. ‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Oh good. Because I’m wearing it, and damn the lot of them.’
‘My darling girl! What lot?’
‘Your parishioners. Your prim, narrow-minded, gossiping, trouble-making parishioners, that’s who.’
‘What’s brought this on? It’s not like you to be so miserable. We’ll talk about it, shall we, when the children are in bed?’
‘We won’t, you’ve a meeting.’
Peter stood up. ‘Must go get the children. So I have. Damn meetings. Well, tonight then, when I get back.’
‘Perhaps.’
Wednesday evening came round all too quickly. Sylvia had admired the dress, though privately she thought it unsuitable for a Rector’s wife, but it appeared to be something Caroline needed and as far as Sylvia was concerned if Dr Harris wanted to wear it, it was all right by her. When she saw her actually wearing it Sylvia was very surprised, it was even more out of character than she had first thought. But the Rector seemed pleased with it, so it must be all right. ‘Have a good time! Forget everything and just enjoy yourselves!’
When Caroline and Peter left the Rectory to walk to Harriet’s they met a total of four villagers on their way. They all greeted them with something just short of surprise.
‘Evening, Rector. Evening, Dr Harris.’ This from Anne Parkin who typed for the parish.
‘Good evening, Caroline! How lovely you look.’ This from Muriel who was popping round with a cake for her new neighbour. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’
Barry Jones heading for the pub gave Caroline a thumbs up, his face twitching with a grin. ‘Good evening, Rector. Dr Harris. Nice evening!’
