Village Gossip (7 page)

Read Village Gossip Online

Authors: Rebecca Shaw

BOOK: Village Gossip
9.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

On the mantelpiece were framed photographs of their children, but the photograph on the window sill was of their wedding. Hugo got to his feet and went to look at it. He picked it up and studied her closely. She hadn’t worn a
veil, simply a circlet of fresh flowers on her dark hair. Her dress was an ageless classic. Long narrow sleeves, a neckline just low enough to allow her to wear a double row of pearls which glowed against her creamy skin. Modest. Maidenly. Virginal. He studied Peter and was devastated by the look of joy in his face. Envy, monstrous envy filled Hugo’s soul. To love like that! If Peter wasn’t so damned good looking perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad, but those good looks
and
Caroline
and
to be blessed with a love like that! How he envied him.

‘Like it?’

He’d been aware a moment before of a perfume in the room. Now, at the sound of her voice, he knew it was Caroline’s.

Hugo carefully placed the photograph back on the window sill and turned to look at her.

‘Hope you don’t mind. Couldn’t help but take a look. Got your script?’

‘It’s here.’ She picked it up from the coffee table and went to sit on the sofa. He sat beside her with his script in his hand.

‘I’ve already learned a lot of the lines, Peter’s been helping me. This Marian character I’m playing, she’s complex, isn’t she?’

‘Indeed. Tell me what you’ve learned about her.’

‘Before the war, she was a dutiful wife. Usual thing, never had a job, married almost straight from school, the local boy everyone expected her to marry, had the prescribed two children, a boy and then a girl. The war came, he went into the army expecting her to be sitting tidily at home keeping the home fires burning and doing her bit by knitting balaclavas and mittens for the soldiers at the front. Well, she didn’t. She got up off her backside, learned to drive, worked at the local big house which had
been turned into a hospital for officers, became a nurse and saw more of the foul side of the war than most.’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘Then husband Charles comes home. He’s not been physically wounded but emotionally and psychologically he’s a wreck, but he manages to keep that particular problem well under wraps. Not even she has realised how badly damaged he is.’

‘Excellent.’

‘He is appalled at what she’s been doing during the war and fully expects her to go back to doing nothing. Which she does, mainly because he is so adamant about it. I think there’s a hint of cruelty in his attitude, and in addition it’s almost as if he’s afraid he might lose her if he doesn’t keep her tied to the home. But she’s so glad to have him back that she goes along with it. Then this man Leonard arrives. Am I getting it right? Is this how you see it?’

‘It is.’

‘He completely upsets the applecart. He upsets the husband and he upsets her. Stirs things up in her which she’s never had stirred before. Husband Charles always insists on his conjugal rights but never quite gets it right. He’s on a kind of ‘Oh! It’s Saturday, so it’s our night’ routine. So rather surprisingly, to her, she finds herself ready for anything, as you might say.’

Hugo sat back watching her as she outlined her ideas to him. He’d a powerful idea that her husband had a completely different approach from the husband in the play, and that she knew he knew and she guessed he was jealous. Which he was. She moved on to the effect the newcomer, Leonard, had had on the wife. What was she saying … ‘So I can quite understand why she does what she does. Life with Leonard would be unpredictable. He’s no job, just private money, and deeply in love with him though she is
she can’t cope with that so she opts for the safety of the husband and children. So sad Leonard gets killed the very night she tells him it’s all over.’

‘Do you think she’s right?’

‘To be glad he gets killed?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s never right to kill, no matter the provocation.’

‘Do you think Charles kills him?’

‘Oh! Definitely! Everything points to that.’

‘It can’t be comfortable, realising almost for certain her husband is a murderer.’

‘Here, look, where she says to her friend Celia …’ Caroline leafed through the script till she came to the page she was looking for. ‘Here it is. “It was doomed from the beginning, I see that now and I shall pay the price for the rest of my life, because I have to live with it every day.’

‘You’ve studied it all out, haven’t you?’

‘If I’m doing something then I do it right and understanding what makes her tick is vital, surely?’

‘Of course, of course. Let’s do that scene where the chap first comes in. Act one, Scene two. Right. Off you go.’

‘I haven’t finished yet. Having an affair on the side was much more terrible then in 1920 than it would be today, wasn’t it? You really do have to see it from their point of view to get the right message across.’

‘Of course. That’s the trouble with a lot of amateur productions, the cast don’t have the width and depth of experience of life to get through to the essence of the part they’re playing.’

Caroline, about to read her first line, looked up at him. ‘I sincerely hope you’re not suggesting that I’ve had experience of extra marital affairs and that’s why I understand so well.’

Hugo who’d been lounging back on the sofa enjoying
Caroline’s company sat up straight. ‘Oh no, of course not. With a man like Peter, what woman would want an affair? I’m sure you’re quite satisfied on that score.’ His slight hesitation before the word ‘satisfied’ angered her.

‘Look here, I hope you’re … Look, let’s get on, please. Have you found the page?’

They read through and discussed various points and only stopped when Sylvia said she was going to lunch and did Dr Harris want anything before she left.

Pulled back to reality by the request, Caroline had to think for a moment. ‘No, nothing at all, thank you. See you later.’

‘OK. Good afternoon to you, Mr Maude.’

‘Hugo! Hugo!’ His reprimand was spoken in such a pleasant way Sylvia had to smile.

‘Yes, well, then, Hugo.’

‘Good afternoon.’

Sylvia was clattering plates in the sink. ‘Have you finished? Because I’m in a rush. I’ve got to get back, just in case. You were late, I’ve waited ages for you to come.’

Willie, who’d only had two bites of his sandwich, looked up, surprised. ‘Come on, I haven’t been in the house two minutes. What’s the rush?’

‘He’s there.’

‘Who is?’

‘Who do you think. His lordship.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘I bet my bottom dollar he’ll have stayed for lunch.’

‘Put me a drop more milk in this tea, will yer? Look here, she’s an upright, loving woman married to a lovely man. He’s a priest, she’s a doctor, she knows the position better than you and me. Stop worrying. She won’t do anything wrong, believe me.’

‘Won’t she?’

‘No, she won’t. If he tries …’

‘Which he will. I’ve seen that look he has in his eye before now.’

‘Where have you seen it?’ Willie picked up his cup.

‘Dicky Tutt, for a start.’

Willie spluttered his tea over the cloth. He wiped his mouth, coughed a bit and then said, ‘Honestly!’ When he’d got over the choking fit Willie began to laugh. ‘You’re not suggesting there’s going to be a real proper affair are you, like Dicky and Georgie?’

Faced with the question, Sylvia couldn’t make herself voice her thoughts. If she said it, it might mean it would happen. ‘No. not really. Well …’

‘Give up, forget it. I know I’m right. You’re worrying over nothing.’

Sylvia stood up. ‘You finished?’

‘I have now and I’ll have indigestion all afternoon with hurrying.’

She cleared away, kissed him, reminded him to lock up after himself, and left him.

Their laughter reached her ears as she unlocked the front door. She called out, ‘I’m back.’

They were sitting in the kitchen having lunch. A half-empty bottle of red wine on the table. An empty dish, which by the looks of it had held a cold beef salad and, waiting still to be eaten, two slices of her best fruit cake.

‘You’re soon back, Sylvia?’

‘Lots of ironing to do. With not being in tomorrow I need to get on with it.’

‘Of course. We’ll take our cake into the sitting room. Bring the wine, Hugo, will you?’

Sylvia watched him follow her out. This kitchen belonged to the family. She thought about the times Dr
Harris had sat in one rocking chair and she in the other giving the twins their bottles. She remembered when there’d been two high chairs round the table at lunchtime, with the Rector feeding one baby and Dr Harris the other one. What happy times they’d been. How much she’d enjoyed them. Lovely though he was, Hugo Maude didn’t belong, he was dining-room company, not kitchen company. And wine at lunchtime! Now that was decadent. As she snapped open the ironing board Sylvia heard them laughing again. Caroline’s laugh was joyous; happier than for some time. Well, at least that was a plus, she supposed.

Chapter 7

Vera called in at the Store for a few vital necessities. Bread, milk, eggs, half a pound of bacon, some chocolate biscuits, a shaving stick and razor blades for Don. She was standing in front of the razor blade display trying to remember which kind Don used when she heard Mrs Jones’ voice.

‘There’s ten parcels today, Linda. There’s the list. Hurry up and we’ll catch the lunchtime post.’

‘Keep yer hair on! Shan’t be a minute.’ Linda finished sorting her postal orders, tidied the counter, put some paper clips back in her tray and tested the sponge she used for wetting her fingers when she was counting.

‘Honestly! I haven’t got all day! I’ve a costume to machine this afternoon when I get back. Beads to sew on as well. Hurry up!’

As Linda began weighing the parcels and writing down the cost on Mrs Jones’ list Vera edged closer. Swallowing her pride because of her desperate need to help with the costumes she said, ‘If you’d let me help I could be doing the beads. I’ve got a bit of ’oliday, time’s getting on.’

‘You! Not likely not after the way you spoke to me at
the meeting. I wouldn’t let you help, not for anything. I’d stay up all night first.’

‘Would you indeed? You miserable old cow. I just hope Hugo doesn’t like ’em and then you’ll be in a fix.’

‘Of course he’ll like ’em. He’s been with me every step of the way.’

‘Oh! Very close, are yer? Hand in glove?’

‘Don’t be daft. We professional people have an understanding.’

Vera hooted with laughter. ‘You professional people! I can remember the time when you were glad to clean at the pub when your boys was little. I don’t call that professional.’

‘So you think cleaning at a nursing home is a step up the ladder, do you?’

‘Better than cleaning out stinking lavatories when they’ve all had too much to drink. And I don’t stoop to nasty underhand tricks like you get up to, either.’

Mrs Jones grew belligerent at this accusation and looked ready to begin one of her famous tirades. Taking a deep breath she thundered, ‘What do you mean, “underhand tricks”?’

‘Like that time when you reported Carrie Whatsit to the Show committee for buying a pot plant at the garden centre and kidding on it was home grown.’

‘I never.’

‘You did. Or that time when your Terry beat up the husband of that girl what works at the Jug and Bottle and you swore he’d been ’ome all night. Don’t think we don’t know what you get up to.’

‘You’ve a mind like a sewer, you have.’

‘You might think you’re superior but yer not. You’re a scumbag, that’s what.’ Vera took her shopping to the till where Bel totted it up and asked her for nine pounds
twenty-five. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t unzip her purse.

‘Here, let me do it for you. There we are. There’s your change look, seventy-five pence.’

Vera nodded her thanks. The aftermath of the argument was having its effect and Vera was bereft of speech.

Bel whispered, ‘Take no notice. She’s not worth it. Been right on her high horse since she got that job.’ She lifted the carrier off the counter and handed it to her. ‘There y’go, love.’

Vera was about to leave when the door crashed open and Grandmama Charter-Plackett came in.

‘There you are, Vera. You’d better get home quickly. I’ve just seen Greenwood Stubbs and your Rhett pulling up in the van and they’re unloading crazy paving and bags of cement and carrying them through your house.’

Vera’s shock at this piece of astounding news brought back her voice. ‘Crazy paving? I haven’t ordered crazy paving. What’s he playing at?’ She hurried out of the Store, raced across the Green and peeped over her fence. Rhett was stacking the pieces of stone as Greenwood was carrying them through.

‘Rhett, what do yer think yer doing? We can’t afford all that. We’ve no need for it. Take it back.’

‘Shushhh! Come in and I’ll explain.’ Vera walked round to the front door and went in.

‘Before he went away Mr Fitch said that all the rubbish that was lying about had to be cleared before he got back. He said it was all old stuff he’d never use and it was making the place look untidy. When I saw the pots and the table and chairs amongst it I thought, well, if he doesn’t want it, I know who does. So here it is. Then I remembered we’d a load of crazy paving left over from the new paths Mr Fitch changed his mind about, and I thought he wouldn’t miss
the few bits that would make all the difference to our garden. Greenwood here said we could have it. So we’ve brought it and the old man won’t be any the wiser, will he?’

‘But what’s it for?’

‘I’m repairing all this old crazy paving here at the back and extending it for yer. Yer know, bringing it right up to the lawn, then there won’t be that nasty bit of rough ground between. It’ll look really good. Then yer’ll have a patio to sit out on.’

Vera was wreathed in smiles. ‘Oh, Rhett. What a lovely idea!’

‘Greenwood’s said I can have the old table and a couple of chairs, wrought iron they are. They’re old and they need working on but they’re yours when I’ve cleaned and painted ’em. They were going to the tip anyway. Nobody’ll miss ’em, they’ve been at the back of the kitchen garden for years.’

‘So I can have a cup of tea sitting out here on me patio. I shall feel like lady muck. Oh, Rhett! Wait till yer grandad hears about this. You are a love.’ She flung her arms round him and gave him a great big kiss.

‘Steady on.’

‘But is it all right, yer know? It’s not thieving or anything, is it?’

Greenwood came through with some more paving. ‘Keep mum about it, that’s all. What the old man don’t know won’t do him no harm. What we’re bringing here is a drop in the ocean to what we’ve used up there. He’ll never miss it.’

Vera almost skipped for joy. Someone was at last doing something just for her, and the best of it was there was no price to pay because Rhett was doing it for love. Good old Rhett, worth his weight in gold.

Whilst he worked on the patio Rhett learned his part. Hugo had said it was a small one but it seemed big to him. He’d never acted in a play before and he’d no idea why he’d been chosen. At school he’d never had a chance, being in the bottom set of absolutely every subject you could name. Now he was older he regretted not having tried at school, but there really hadn’t seemed any point in it, not him with a daft name like Rhett. With a name like that you were half way down the field from the start.

At the first rehearsal he’d stuttered and stammered, got embarrassed, dried up, moved into all the wrong places till by the end of the evening he’d decided to resign. Hugo, however, had given him a pep talk.

‘Look here, I don’t know what you’re worrying about. You’re not giving yourself a chance. By the end of four weeks you won’t recognise yourself. Give it a go. Believe me, I’ll coax it out of you. I’ve had professional actors do worse, and that’s the truth.’

‘You’re pulling my leg.’

‘I’m not! That’s God’s truth. Your voice is strong, which it needs to be seeing as we’ve no amplification, so that’s half the battle. Remember, Caroline is your mother, treat her as if she is. On stage she’s no longer Dr Harris, try to see her as your mum. Mmmmm?’

‘I see. Yes, I see.’

‘Have you a younger sister? No? When you’re working, or whatever, think what it would be like to have a sister. Get to know Michelle, build a relationship, learn your parts together, and then you’ll react better to her on stage. Right?’

Rhett nodded. ‘It’s the bits where I have to put my arm round Dr Harris and kiss her. It’s blinking embarrassing, that is.’

Hugo shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s because you see her
as Dr Harris and not as your mother. That’s where you’re going wrong. Caroline? Have you a minute?’

Caroline came across to see what Hugo wanted.

‘Yes?’

‘Look here, Rhett is having problems seeing you as his mother.’

‘Right.’

‘We’ll have a mini rehearsal right here and now.’ He flicked through his copy of the script. ‘Here we are, look, page sixty-two. Half way down. Here’s a chair, pretend that’s the sofa. Go and stand behind her and say your lines. Sit on it, Caroline, that’s it. Right, off you go, Rhett.’

Rhett stood behind her, put a hand on her shoulder and said his lines.


Why’s Dad so angry about this chap Leonard? Seems all right to me
.’


You wouldn’t understand, darling
.’


I’m not twelve you know, like Celia. I have got some idea about what goes on
.’


No, you haven’t
.’


I do know things aren’t right between you and Daddy
.’


Do you now? Even if it were true, which it isn’t, it’s none of your business
.’


It is if you’re upset
.’


I’m not
.’


Very well, I know I’m right, but I’ll have to take your word for it, I expect
.’


You do just that
.’


I just wish parents didn’t lie
.’


I’m not. Goodnight, darling
.’


Goodnight, Mummy
.’

Hugo applauded. ‘Well, done. Much better. But you’re stiff. Look, this is how I would do it.’

He rested his forearms along the top of the chair and bent
much closer than Rhett had. As he reached the last line, instead of kissing the top of Caroline’s head like Rhett had done he leant further forward and kissed her cheek.

‘Like that. Kiss her cheek as she looks up at you. See? Try again.’

Rhett had done it again, been more relaxed and had kissed Caroline’s cheek as Hugo had done.

‘Much better, wasn’t it? Didn’t you think so?’

Rhett nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve to forget Dr Harris is Dr Harris and then that does the trick.’

‘Exactly. What did you think Caroline?’

‘Big improvement.’

‘Agreed! Right everybody. Three rehearsals next week. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. You’re all doing fabulously. Monday Mrs Jones will be here with costumes. Well, some of them at least. No scripts by Wednesday. Everyone word perfect, please.’ They all groaned. ‘You can do it! Goodnight.’

As Caroline called out, ‘Goodnight, everyone’, Hugo materialised beside her.

‘I’ll walk you home.’

She laughed. ‘Honestly, walk me home. It’s only two doors away.’

‘Nevertheless. You’re doing me a good turn actually. I’m in the doghouse at Harriet’s, so the longer I’m out of the house the better.’

‘What have you been doing?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all, but Jimbo’s upset. Bit stuffy is Jimbo, did you realise?’

They’d reached the Rectory door. The light came on and they stood in its spotlight.

‘He’s very protective of his family.’

‘His wife, you mean. No trespassing.’

‘I should think not.’

‘Harriet and I go back a long way.’

‘That’s no excuse.’

‘It isn’t, is it? You can know someone five minutes and feel closer to them than to someone you’ve known for twenty years.’

She studied his face, wondering how sincere or how significant that remark was. He was handsome. Every feature in just the right proportion. It really wasn’t fair for one man to have so many of the right ingredients. Not only that, he had the charm to match.

Hugo leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. Then he took hold of her hand, raised it to his lips, and said, ‘Fair lady!’

‘Hugo!’

‘Caroline!’ His eyes roved over her face as he murmured, ‘“
All days are nights to see till I see thee. And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me
.”’

The common sense part of her was angry with his dalliance, but there was something other in her which responded. She kissed his lips, patted his cheek, fumbled in her bag for her key, opened the door said ‘Goodnight’, and went in.

‘I’m home! Where are you?’

‘In bed.’

‘I’m thirsty. Are you?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Won’t be long.’

Caroline drank a glass of water and then went to check the children. As usual Beth had flung off her bedclothes and her nightgown was up round her waist. Caroline pulled the sheet up higher and thought about the innocence of this beloved child of hers. She stroked her face with a gentle finger and loved her deeply. There was nothing she would do to harm Beth. Nothing at all, and she must keep that
foremost in her mind. That dratted Hugo. Quoting sonnets at her. Alex was fast asleep flat on his back, neatly covered up. She loved him just as much as she loved Beth. He was such a complete and utter darling. So like Peter. Damn that blasted Hugo.

‘Had a good rehearsal?’

‘Yes, thanks. Excellent. Rhett is really getting the hang of things.’

‘Is he? He’s changed then.’

‘The thing is, Hugo can explain it so well. There’s lots of actors I’m sure who know how to act, but getting it out of other people is beyond them. Like lecturers at college. Some were brilliant but their lectures were the pits. Hugo just has the gift.’

There was a short silence and then Peter said, ‘Has he indeed?’

Caroline didn’t reply. She walked naked to the bathroom. He heard the shower running and stopped the pretence of reading his book. It lay heavy on his legs. He knew he musn’t trespass. This was her battle. He didn’t know how to fight it on her behalf. Didn’t know what to do to stop this runaway roller coaster. It was the light in her eyes, the spring in her step which frightened him. She may not know it, but Hugo was …

She came back in, wrapped in a towel and sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. He always loved touching her skin when it was warm and damp and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching across to feel her bare shoulder.

Caroline very slowly stood up, lingeringly rubbed herself dry, dropped the towel on the carpet, lifted the duvet and got into bed.

Other books

Reign Check by Michelle Rowen
The Night Children by Alexander Gordon Smith
Torchship by Gallagher, Karl K.
Unleashed by Kate Douglas
All Our Tomorrows by Peter Cawdron
How to Be a Voice Actor by Alan Smithee
Devil May Care by Pippa Dacosta
Death of a Hot Chick by Norma Huss