The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 11

  ‘Come on. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’ve never kissed properly before, have you? Tongues and such?’

  She lied again. ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘All right, then, you have, but I know you haven’t.’

  ‘You’re well experienced, are you?’ There was a sceptical note in her voice which annoyed him.

  ‘What? Me? Of course. Eighteen next month and not kissed anyone before? Come off it.’

  Somehow Beth really began to feel alarmed. There was a slight threat coming from him now, and she wasn’t having that. She sat admiring her new shoes, pretending to check the straps were tight enough, knocking a fallen leaf off the right heel, anything to give her time to assess this hugely attractive male who fascinated her so very much. ‘Let’s walk on further.’

  ‘OK.’ Jake got to his feet and offered her a hand to help her up.

  Once they were on the move she began to feel better about him. She showed him a few birds she recognised, they stood on the little footbridge over the stream, admired the changing colour of the overhanging leaves, but when Jake suggested they crossed Shepherd’s Hill and went into Sykes Wood she refused.

  ‘Absolutely not. People from Turnham Malpas don’t go into those woods.’

  ‘Nobody? That’s ridiculous.’

  Indignantly Beth said, ‘It isn’t. Those woods are haunted.’

  ‘Haunted?’ Jake laughed at her.

  ‘Yes. I’m not going in. The trees are so close together you can’t see ahead of yourself, and there are strange noises. Witches met there a few years ago, and one of them got burned to death.’

  ‘In Sykes Wood?’

  ‘Not burned in the wood itself, but she did get burned to death during one of their meetings or séances, or whatever they call them.’

  ‘Well, I live in Penny Fawcett and I haven’t heard a word about all that. I’m going in. Come on. Cross the road.’

  He stood temptingly in the middle of Shepherd’s Hill waiting for her, smiling temptingly and crooking his finger to entice her. She felt like a little kid. She mustn’t look foolish, not when she was striking out as an adult. Perhaps he was right. It was ridiculous to talk about witches and haunting in broad daylight. So she crossed Shepherd’s Hill and, taking hold of his hand, climbed the stile and went into the woods.

  ‘There you are, you see. It’s perfectly all right.’

  Beth didn’t answer. Already she could feel the pressure of not being able to see ahead because of the density of the trees. The path was so narrow they couldn’t walk side by side, so Jake went ahead and Beth followed obediently.

  It was cold and sunny that morning, but in Sykes Wood it seemed as though the sun had gone in. She wished she hadn’t worn her new jacket, which wasn’t meant for outdoors in early October. She stumbled over a tree root but Jake was walking so fast he didn’t notice. Then he was so far ahead he’d disappeared. Beth hurried round the bend in the path and he wasn’t there. Where had he gone? Why had he left her? Was it the wood playing tricks? Then he sprang out from behind a tree shouting, ‘Boo!’

  Beth screamed in panic. Jake took her in his arms, pressed her back against a tree trunk and began to kiss her fears away, or so he said. But immediately her mind felt as if it were splitting apart, and the memory of that nightmare in Africa burst into life. The horror of how close she’d come to being raped came flooding back . . . Beth pushed every ounce of energy she had into her arms and, placing her hands on Jake’s chest, she forced him away, fighting him, thrashing him, beating him with every ounce of her strength, screaming, screaming, screaming as loud as she could.

  Then her power went to her legs and she was fleeing, down the path, over the stile, into Shepherd’s Hill, turning right and going hell for leather towards the village and safety.

  Passing the school, she drew breath and tried to compose herself, but the urgent need to get home made her begin running again. She’d no door key. She’d have to ring the bell. Jake’s bike was still propped against the house wall, and the panic came back. She hammered on the door and Alex was there, pulling her in over the step.

  Gasping for breath, her mouth dry with fear, Beth struggled to say, ‘Mum! Where’s Mum?’

  And she was in her arms.

  Safe.

  Held tight.

  Kissed.

  Loved.

  ‘Darling! Come into the kitchen right away. Put the kettle on, Alex, and make a cup of tea for us all.’

  Peter came in from the back garden. ‘It’s no good, Alex, you’ll have to give me a hand. Your mother wants this lilac out and the roots are enormous . . . what’s the matter?’

  Beth extricated herself from Caroline’s arms. Not catching anyone’s eye, certainly not Alex’s, she gasped, ‘Sykes Wood. It’s haunted just like everyone says it is. I really got myself frightened. Jake wanted to go in and persuaded me . . . it was all right . . . but it isn’t.’ ‘Where’s Jake now?’

  Beth looked at Peter. ‘He must be following me home. His bike’s still here.’ She gasped for breath again and flopped down on to a chair. ‘I’m so thirsty.’

  Caroline caught Alex looking at her, and her heart quaked. It occurred to her that a word with Jake might be a very good idea, so she said, ‘Peter, bring Jake’s bike in, would you, please? You never know nowadays, it might get stolen. Tea for you?’

  Peter nodded. After the tea, which they drank sitting round the kitchen table, Saturday morning became more normal, except that Jake’s bike was still in the hall.

  Beth knew instinctively they must never know about Jake kissing her, and more so that she enjoyed it until . . . To them she’d blamed her panic on the stories of ghosts and witches in Sykes Wood, and that was how it would stay. She wouldn’t tell them or else they’d never let her out again by herself, and she wasn’t having that. But his kisses were so exciting; she liked them until he got that urgent feeling about him. Would it always be like this for the rest of her life? That frightening memory spilling out of the deep enclaves of her mind? The vivid memory of that rebel soldier out there in the heat of Africa, threatening to rape her . . . Oh, God! Thank you for Alex, who had killed him with the butt of the soldier’s rifle . . . No, she would never lose the fear.

  ‘I’ll start my prep, OK?’

  Caroline gently trailed her hand along the back of Beth’s shoulders. ‘Feeling all right now? I’ve felt funny like that in Sykes Wood. No one likes it, and you won’t be the last. Off you go. When I’ve cleared up I’m going to the coffee morning. I’ve a few people to see.’

  Jake’s bike was still there when they went to church on Sunday morning. In the afternoon Peter put it in the estate car and took it to Penny Fawcett for him, but he was out so Peter didn’t get the opportunity to have a word.

  On Wednesday morning Peter received a very disquieting letter from the headmaster of Alex’s school. He read it twice before it sank in. Alex had beaten someone up in the changing rooms and was refusing to say why. Could Peter go to school to see the head? He would be free around 10 a.m. on Friday, if that was convenient.

  He looked again at the beginning of the letter and saw it was Jake Harding whom Alex had beaten up. Alex never did anything without a very good reason and it struck Peter that maybe Beth’s story about being frightened of witches in Sykes Wood and Jake not coming back for his bike might be connected. The phone rang and Peter had to pull himself together.

  ‘Yes. Ah! Oh dear. I didn’t know. Certainly. You say the operation’s today? In that case I’ll call to see him tomorrow. He’ll be home by then? Good. Thank you for letting me know.’

  Back to his letter. And what was worse, he recollected that Alex had appeared to be in pain on Monday evening when he came home from school, and had said he was just a bit stiff after rugby, that was all. What was the matter with his children. They’d never given him a single cause for serious anxiety in all their lives and now this. Both of them.

  Caroline came home at h
alf past one and he sat down to lunch with her as soon as she came in. He’d wait till she’d eaten because she looked drained.

  ‘Go on then, Peter, tell me the worst,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Old Ben Burton’s having a gall stone operation today. I’ve promised to go and see him tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you for that snippet. But that’s not it, is it?’

  She was too perceptive by half, was Caroline. ‘No.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s a letter I’ve had from the head at Prince Henry’s.’

  ‘Oh no. Not Alex not doing his prep like Beth?’

  ‘Alex beat up a fellow pupil in the changing rooms.’

  Caroline was stunned. ‘What? Alex? Who has he beaten up?’ Her thoughts suddenly came together. ‘Not Jake?’

  Peter nodded. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Mother’s instinct. There must be some mistake, though.’

  ‘Apparently not. I’m seeing the head on Friday.’

  ‘Oh, God. As bad as that, is it?’

  Peter nodded again.

  ‘Suddenly we’ve got two crazy teenagers. We’ve never realised how lucky we’ve been all these years, have we, Peter? What’s triggered all this? First it’s Beth in rebellion and now Alex behaving completely out of character. Suzy Meadows coming has completely upset them both, as well as the two of us. You’ll have to talk it through with him. Get at the truth before Friday. Or shall I?’

  ‘In this instance I think maybe it’s man’s talk.’

  ‘Right. But you tell me every word afterwards. I don’t envy you.’

  Alex categorically refused to explain. ‘We had a push and a shove, that’s all.’

  ‘The head would not write a letter about such a minor incident.’

  Alex sighed with impatience. ‘We had a tiff and before we knew it we were fighting. He came off worse, but then I am much bigger than him so it’s hardly surprising. Can I go now?’

  ‘No. You’re not seven, you’re almost seventeen and know the difference between truth and lies, and I’m still waiting.’

  Alex slumped down into the sofa even further and remained silent, not daring to look at his dad because he knew that piercing look of his would demolish his own determination.

  ‘I’m very disappointed in you, Alex. I now have no case to offer to the head when I go on Friday. No defence of any kind. You leave me powerless. Off you go.’

  Alex got to the door, put his hand on the knob and then turned back. ‘If I tell you the absolute truth it is just between you and me. If you can’t promise that then I won’t tell you. Mum and Beth must not know. They’d be devastated.’

  ‘I don’t understand why, but very well.’

  ‘Beth and I have always known you and Mum tell each other everything, but this time that rule has to be ignored, Dad. You’ve ignored that rule once before in your life, you know . . . when we were conceived and now . . . and now you’ve to do it again.’

  Peter, totally humbled by Alex’s forthright statement, knew he had no alternative but to agree, and braced himself for what was to come.

  Alex folded his arms to hide the fact that his hands were trembling. ‘I was in the showers after rugby, drying off, when I overheard a conversation going on and I recognised Jake Harding’s voice. It was the sniggering kind of conversation boys have and I realised he was saying that he’d “had” Beth while they were in the woods. That she was a virgin and he’d well, you know . . . then he started talking dirty about her and I just saw red. So I beat him up there and then without saying a word. Dressed and left for lunch. There was quite a lot of blood about, and I’m not telling you what Jake was saying about her.’ He got up from the sofa and made to leave.

  ‘Just a minute. You’re not saying that was the real reason for all her panic?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘No, I’m not. I asked her after she’d calmed down and I absolutely know she was telling me the truth. She said she panicked when he began kissing her because she remembered Africa and that soldier, and she just fled. He won’t be saying it again about her if I’m around, because I shall beat him twice as hard.’

  ‘Whilst I admire your defence of her, please remember, Alex, that beating someone up is perhaps not the answer.’

  ‘I’m not daft, Dad. I do know the rules, but it gave me an awful lot of satisfaction.’ He grinned that charming grin of his, and Peter had to smile. Then he remembered his meeting with the headmaster on Friday and wondered what on earth he would say in explanation of Alex’s uncharacteristic behaviour. So much for Beth striking out into adult life. Damn his decision to take them all with him to Africa.

  Chapter 8

  The usual customers were sitting on their favourite settle in the bar of the Royal Oak when the main door opened and in came Ford with, very surprisingly, Muriel clinging to his arm. They were all so surprised that silence fell in the bar. Ford took her to the counter where Georgie was waiting to serve.

  ‘An orange juice for this lady. She’s thirsty, she says, so make it a nice big one, and a home-brew for me. Just a half, please.’

  He took their drinks to the table where Jimmy and the others were sitting.

  They all said, ‘Good evening, Muriel,’ but Muriel didn’t reply as she was greedily drinking her orange as though she hadn’t had a drink for years.

  With half the glass of orange already consumed, Muriel looked up and spotted Don. ‘That was nice. Hello, Don. How are you? That fall you had from the roof, you seem to have got over it.’

  Rather surprised she remembered him, Don said, ‘Yes, I have, thank you, Muriel. It’s all the good care I had at the time. And how are you?’

  ‘Oh! I’m very well.’ She leaned across to speak confidentially to him. ‘Who’s that man I’m with?’

  ‘That’s Ford. He’s just come to live in the village at Glebe House.’

  ‘Oh! He’s married to Liz?’

  ‘No, Liz doesn’t live there any more.’

  ‘Oh! Doesn’t she? I thought I hadn’t seen her for a while. I’m going on holiday, you know.’

  ‘Oh! Right,’ said Vera. ‘Where to?’

  ‘I can’t remember, but I am. Sun, that’s what I want, some sun.’ Then she drifted away in her head and was no longer with them.

  Ford said softly, ‘I found her wandering down Jacks Lane, not knowing where to go next. I’d no idea where she lived and she didn’t seem to know, so I thought I’d bring her in here with me.’

  ‘We’d better take her back. Ralph will be going berserk.’ Dottie stood up. ‘Come on, Muriel, we’ll go and find Ralph.’

  Ford swung Muriel’s chair away from the table so she could get out more easily, and he realised then how little she weighed. Poor old thing. Such a lovely, distinguished face, almost aristocratic. It was such a shame.

  Dottie took her arm and led her towards the door.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re going back home, to your house. Ralph will be wondering where you are.’

  ‘Ralph? I don’t belong to Ralph.’

  ‘Yes, you do, Muriel. Come along.’

  The passive way in which Muriel agreed to go with her, holding her hand with childlike confidence, broke Dottie’s kind heart. She remembered what a wonderful lady Muriel had always been, how thoughtful and generous in her behaviour, and how thrilled they’d all been when Ralph came back to the village and he and Muriel had married.

  When they got to the door it was standing wide open. Dottie helped Muriel in over the step and took her into what she thought must be the sitting room, but it was obviously Ralph’s study, because he was sitting at a desk, his head resting on his forearms, apparently fast asleep. So she turned Muriel around, found the sitting room, and seated her in front of the stove, which was sending out heat as though it were the depths of winter. ‘You sit there and I’ll make a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘Here, I’ll put the TV on; you watch that till I come back with the tray.’

  First of all Dottie wen
t to the front door and locked it firmly with bolts and keys so she couldn’t escape again. Ralph was still asleep so she decided to leave him. The poor old chap, he’s completely exhausted with looking after her, she thought.

  They sat comfortably enough in front of the TV drinking tea. Suddenly Muriel said, ‘Thank you, Dottie. I don’t understand where Ralph is; he must have gone to the Store. My mother loved drinking tea sitting staring into the fire. She was very unkind to me, you know. Thought I shouldn’t have a life of my own. She kept me at home to look after her when she was old, and she wouldn’t let me go out with the others when I was young. Always said no, did my mother. To everything. Ralph dear,’ she shouted, ‘where are you? Has he gone shopping?’