The Village Green Affair Page 11

  After Grandmama and Jimbo had left, the rest of them returned to the gossip of the week, all of them wishing they knew exactly what was going on. There was certainly something. And did that stuffed shirt Neville Neal know? Time would tell.

  Jimbo told Harriet the moment he got home that he’d volunteered her for the leaflet drop.

  ‘Oh! Right, that’s fine. Did the meeting go well?’ She was working on her tapestry, having been inspired by Evie Nicholls to give it a go, and was concentrating hard. So when Jimbo told her the current gossip she didn’t quite take it in.

  ‘It was the typical village meeting then. A hotbed of gossip as always.’

  Jimbo realized she mustn’t have heard a word he’d said. ‘You didn’t hear me. You see, I saw them at the silver wedding anniversary party, not just that embarrassing dance they did, but greeting each other in the hall. It was obvious they were bonding, not just saying good evening. And I caught them looking at each other two or three times and they weren’t just looking, they were telegraphing messages.’

  The tapestry was laid down and Harriet suggested it would be a good idea if he told her who he was talking about.

  ‘Like I said. Liz and Titus.’

  Harriet was incredulous. ‘What? Don’t be ridiculous. No-o-o, you’ve got it wrong.’

  ‘I’m not yet blind and deaf, I saw them.’

  ‘Liz and Titus? Liz must have gone off her head.’ But when she’d thought about it for a while longer she added, ‘We did chat for a while, Titus and me, and I found him very charming indeed. Yes, I did. Rather intriguing, actually.’

  ‘Intriguing or not, don’t begin having lunch with him.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It appears Liz and Titus may have had lunch together today, and everyone’s talking about it.’

  Harriet was scornful. ‘In the pub? Well, that’s nothing.’

  ‘No, at Glebe House. I’m told he had a bouquet of red roses with him.’

  ‘Oops.’

  Jimbo wagged a finger at her. ‘Keep right out of it, Harriet. Not a word. You mustn’t jump to the wrong conclusion. I’m sure both Liz and Titus are very honourable people.’

  ‘Liz is a desperate woman, I don’t know about honourable. If I tell you something it must not leave this room.’

  ‘Scouts’ honour.’

  ‘This is not funny, Jimbo. Promise. It’s important.’

  ‘Sorry. I promise.’

  ‘She told me a few weeks ago that she and Neville didn’t have sex any more.’

  Jimbo went to pour the two of them a whiskey each. ‘Here, drink this. Don’t tell me whose fault it is; I can guess. It’s Neville, isn’t it? That’s plain to see when you think about it. He isn’t exactly touchy-feely, is he?’

  ‘The complete opposite. It’s enough to drive her into someone else’s arms, especially nice arms like Titus Bellamy’s, isn’t it? She was heartbroken when she told me. I mean, I know we’re friends but we’re not bosom friends like Caroline and me. I was amazed when she told me everything.’

  ‘Hell!’

  ‘What’s more, her boys are intending to tell Neville that they both want out of the company because they don’t like the way Neville handles the business.’

  Jimbo tossed back the last of his whiskey and said. ‘If he comes to me for counselling, I’ll send him round to you.’

  ‘No, thank you. What other advice can I give him but “go to it”!’

  Jimbo roared with laughter. ‘That’s why I married you! I thought Caroline had all the common sense but I do believe it’s you.’

  ‘One wonders what he’s doing to cause those two boys of theirs to quit.’

  ‘Am I glad not to have set him on as my accountant. I wouldn’t want him dickering about with our money.’

  ‘How could he? An accountant never actually handles the money.’

  ‘Advising investments in this and that which would benefit that and this, and, in a roundabout way, fill his pockets?’

  ‘Ah! Right. Well, hush now, I’m sewing again.’

  The doorbell rang and Jimbo went to answer it.

  Neville Neal was standing on the doorstep and walked in before Jimbo had a chance to invite him. He was strutting about the hall breathing heavily but saying nothing.

  ‘Neville, how can I help?’

  His nostrils were pinched tight, which made breathing difficult.

  ‘Harriet in?’

  ‘She is, but you’d better calm down before you speak with her.’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ Drawing in a deep breath, Neville said, ‘Just come from the church finance meeting.’

  ‘Right.’ Jimbo watched him still pacing about and decided he’d never seen him so agitated before. Dear God! Had someone been gossiping at the meeting? Did he know?

  Neville took three long breaths in an effort to calm himself. ‘There, I’m in control again. Let me see her.’

  Jimbo showed him into their sitting room but he wouldn’t sit, so Jimbo sat down and he and Harriet waited for him to speak.

  ‘I’ve just been ... come from the finance meeting at the church. They’d been gossiping about me, I could tell. It was in the air.’ Neville’s hands were twisting together all the time, and this a man who made no unnecessary movements. ‘I got it out of Sir Ralph eventually when everyone had left. He knew, they all knew, but I didn’t.’

  He paced about some more so Harriet prompted him. ‘Knew what?’ She guessed but daren’t say, in case there’d been further developments she knew nothing about.

  He snapped, ‘You know, I suppose, Harriet?’ Neville placed a hand on the arm of the sofa and bent over her. ‘About Titus Bellamy and my wife?’

  ‘Only gossip, Neville, and I don’t believe gossip without some facts to back it up.’

  Jimbo felt Neville was becoming threatening so he offered him a drink, hoping it might well avert the almost inevitable crisis.

  ‘Double whiskey, neat,’ Neville muttered.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you asked Liz?’ The moment she’d said it she knew she shouldn’t have. ‘Well, maybe not. Sit beside me and tell me all about it.’ Harriet patted the sofa cushion and at last he sat down.

  ‘I’m told he’s been to our house. Our house. How dare he? He sat in my home. I’ll kill him.’

  Jimbo handed him his whiskey then wondered whether he should have done.

  Harriet murmured, ‘If that’s all he’s been up to . . . I sit in loads of houses but it doesn’t mean I’m doing something wrong. Don’t get it out of proportion.’

  ‘With red roses? Possibly having lunch together, maybe . . . possibly . . .’ He made a fidgety movement with his hand.

  ‘Well, no. But if that’s what you think, you need to talk to Liz.’

  Neville drank the whiskey and asked for another, but Jimbo dallied about and eventually sat down without handing him a second glass.

  ‘Twenty-five years. After twenty-five years. What does it mean?’

  Harriet took his hand. It needed saying and she was going to say it. ‘Perhaps she’s looking for love?’

  ‘Love? Love? After all these years? Whatever for?’

  How could he not understand? Harriet decided to illustrate her point with Peter and Caroline. ‘I know Peter and Caroline have not been married as long as you have, but have you ever noticed the love in their faces when they look at each other, observed how they stay in physical contact when they’re together? I don’t mean silly hand-holding like a president or a prime minister does, but just being in touch? They’re not embarrassing, it’s just lovely and acceptable, and you know what they mean to each other by their body language. Perhaps that’s what she needs. Loving contact. Consideration. Being put first.’

  Neville didn’t reply.

  Harriet asked if she’d helped at all.

  The two of them saw that Neville was on the brink of breaking down. His shoulders shuddered, his head shook in denial, his face flushed and his teeth began to chatter as though he were feeling indesc
ribably cold.

  Eventually he ground out, ‘You mean bed?’

  Harriet saw she’d got herself into deep water. ‘Well, that too, of course. Goes without saying.’

  She gazed across at Jimbo for help, but he looked away.

  Harriet ploughed on. ‘But most of all, Neville, you must talk to Liz about it. She’s the one in pain.’

  ‘Oh! And I’m not? You think I’m not? It’s come as a terrible shock to me. I saw them at our party and knew something was going on, but for neighbours to see him at the door! That I had not expected. What would you say, Jimbo, if you’d heard this about Harriet?’

  ‘First thought - immediate annihilation of the guilty party. Then, after I’d seen sense, I’d do what Harriet suggests: talk to her about it. Ask her where I’d gone so wrong she needed to go outside our marriage for comfort, and just hope . . . I wasn’t far too late.’

  Neville heaved himself off the sofa like a creaking old man, but walked about like a man in a rage. ‘Am I far too late? That’s the question.’

  Harriet suspected he was but daren’t say so.

  Jimbo stood up. ‘Neville, if you’ll excuse us, it’s getting late and Harriet has an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll go.’ Neville stalked out of the sitting room into the hall and was opening the front door by the time Jimbo caught up with him.

  ‘Man to man, talk to her immediately you get back. Right?’

  But Neville was walking so swiftly he was already level with the village pond and out of hearing.

  Neville opened his front door, put the key back in his pocket and called out, ‘Liz!’

  She answered from the kitchen. She was sitting at their breakfast table with a small teapot, her favourite cup and saucer, and the biscuit tin.

  ‘Meeting took a long time.’

  ‘Yes.’ Neville bent over her and kissed her cheek. He shouldn’t have done that, he thought immediately. He never did kiss her with enthusiasm when he came home. In addition, she would smell Jimbo’s whiskey on his breath. ‘Is there enough tea for me?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course there is. I’ll get you—’

  ‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it.’

  He never offered to get his own cup. Liz knew immediately that he’d found out. She wished he hadn’t. If it meant he was going to break the habit of a lifetime and be considerate she didn’t think she could tolerate the hypocrisy of it.

  He sat down at the table and poured himself, himself, a cup of tea. But where had he been after the meeting? Jimbo’s? Not the Rectory, surely?

  ‘Liz. Where did those roses come from? I can see them through there in the utility room on the draining board.’ He nodded towards the open door. ‘Don’t they deserve to be where we can see them?’

  Liz looked hard at him. ‘Drop the deviousness. Try being honest and open for once. Ask me where I got them. Go on.’

  ‘I naturally assumed you bought them.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You knew I didn’t.’

  Forced into the open by Liz’s direct approach he couldn’t continue to pretend. So instead of saying how could I possibly know where they’ve come from he said, ‘The entire village appears to know they were from Titus.’

  ‘That’s correct, they are. A thank you for the party on Saturday. Then, as I’d just started lunch, I suggested he might like to share it with me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Good manners, you know. He arrived just before one o’clock and left at exactly five minutes to two. We had a panini each, shared a hearty salad with cold chicken left over from last night’s evening meal, with coffee from the cafetière, and he likes his with cream and sugar. But then he doesn’t need to watch his weight, does he, just like you don’t. Oh! And we finished with one of those huge Jaffa oranges I got from the supermarket in Culworth the other day. Anything else you’d like to know? He has a good appetite.’

  Liz looked him straight in the eye. And waited. If she’d been furtive he would have guessed. But she’d been open and honest. Well, not entirely honest but almost.

  That still wasn’t enough for Neville. ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Not much. He isn’t a very talkative person, goes in for long silences.’

  ‘Nice chap, though.’ Neville smiled the smile that never reached his eyes.

  ‘Yes, he is. Interesting, too.’

  ‘Ready for bed?’

  Liz felt a chill descend upon her. ‘Yes. I’ll clear up.’

  ‘No, you go upstairs. I’ll do this.’ He rather imagined that was something Peter would say and congratulated himself, then added ‘loving contact’ by patting her shoulder before collecting their cups together.

  Liz raced up the stairs, thrown off course by his behaviour. She hoped to God that was as far as he wanted to go tonight.

  And mercifully it was. In their supersize bed they could lie without touching and always did, except tonight he got into bed and cuddled close to her, putting his arm around her waist.

  ‘Goodnight, Liz. Sweet dreams.’ He kissed the back of her neck and sighed contentedly. Neville thought for a moment how Peter would say goodnight to Caroline and added, ‘God bless,’ then made as though to go to sleep.

  But Liz couldn’t go to sleep with his arm around her and, while she waited for him to fall asleep, she lay puzzling as to why he was behaving so oddly. It was almost as though he’d been having lessons from . . . not Peter. Please, surely not, but it sounded like the kind of thing he would say before he slept. She groaned in horror. She was so angry with Neville that she gave a sharp backward kick with her heel on his shin, and he jerked into consciousness.

  ‘What’s the matter? Are you all right?’

  ‘I am, but you’re not. Have you been to see a marriage counsellor or something? You’re not behaving right. God bless indeed.’

  Neville was at a loss as to how to reply. He’d no ammunition for dealing with this kind of emotional talk, he’d always avoided it at all costs. ‘Er . . . er.’

  Liz sat up in bed and turned on the light. ‘Well, it’s disconcerting for me. I’m not used to you behaving like this. They’re not your own words.’

  He hadn’t moved at all, either to deny it, or to repair the damage. He simply lay there flummoxed.

  ‘You suspect me of double-dealing with Titus, don’t you? You imagine we’re having an affair, don’t you? Well, you deserve it, let me tell you. I could almost say I have a right to have an affair, due to your neglect of me, your lack of interest in me and my life . . .’

  ‘I bought you that necklace and, believe me, it cost thousands. Doesn’t that demonstrate how much I care?’

  ‘Frankly, no.’

  ‘What does then?’ Neville recollected Harriet’s advice, and wished he’d never asked.

  ‘If things have got so bad that you think a necklace will make years of being ignored all right then it’s all far too late. It dawned on me today that I have never been truly loved by anyone all my adult life, and that’s heart-breaking. I thought you loved me when we got married but looking back on it I think it was a complete sham, that love of yours, and I was too young and inexperienced to know. Mother asked me once if I was happy, just after Guy was born, and I said yes. I absolutely meant it. But I’m not happy now.’ She switched off the light and lay down again on the very edge of the bed, turned away from him, just not caring any more about his feelings or their marriage. ‘Another thing - you’ve never discussed what Hugh and Guy said last weekend, which is typical of you not talking openly about vital matters.’

  Neville wanted to crawl away. He pretended ignorance. ‘Vital matters? What vital matters?’

  ‘You know what I mean, that the boys told you they want to get out of the business for good because they don’t wish to be involved with your underhand antics.’

  Neville cringed. He hadn’t discussed it with her because he couldn’t cope with it. The public humiliation was more than he could bear. His own two sons wanting out from th
e business he’d built up for them. Everyone would know, and he was having to wait until he’d framed a plausible reason for it.

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘They did, of course. I’m sorry it’s happened, but it’s your own fault, Neville.’

  For Neville this was worse than thinking about Titus with Liz. Much worse. Where had he gone wrong? Where had everything gone wrong? His whole life was askew.