The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Read online

  ‘Hanging? Oh God, Peter, whatever have you done to deserve that? Surely you’re not our phantom killer?’

  ‘In my judgement it’s worse than that. I have been totally disloyal and unfaithful to you and I think, in fact I know, the result is what I’ve just told you. Which you already knew – except you didn’t know the whole truth.’

  ‘What are we talking about, Peter? Toria’s murder or Suzy’s baby?’

  ‘Suzy’s babies. She’s having twins.’

  ‘Twins? Oh good heavens, the poor girl. Now that really is a problem. I shall have to go round to see her. However is she going to manage? Why has that upset you so much?’

  ‘You still haven’t understood. The twins are mine.’

  The only sound in the church was the steady drip drip of the tap in the choir vestry. The flowers on the altar looked just the same as they had done two moments ago, the great brass cross still hung gleaming above the altar. The old, old wood of the pulpit and the choir-stalls still glowed softly in the summer sun filtering through the stained-glass windows. Caroline still sat cradling Peter’s head on her knee, the clock kept ticking, Caroline’s heart kept beating. Inside herself she had died. Finally Peter spoke.

  ‘It only happened once, a few days after Patrick died. She needed comforting and she begged me, begged me to comfort her and it went on from there. That isn’t any excuse, nor a reason. I could still have gone away, but the first time I saw her I was attracted to her. Not loved her but lusted for her, I suppose. After that one time I kept right away I was so ashamed of what had happened. I thought if I carried the burden of what I’d done all by myself I could atone for the sin of it. I didn’t want to hurt you, you see. Didn’t want to cause you pain. Even though we had promised each other always to be truthful about our feelings. Now of course the greatest harm has been done. I have given someone other than my beloved, a child.’

  Willie Biggs coughed loudly as he came in to switch off the lights. Peter stood up and tried to appear normal.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir. I forgot to switch off the electrics. Just started me pudding when I remembered.’

  ‘That’s all right, Willie. Thank you for remembering. Must save on the electricity bill.’

  ‘Exactly what I thought, sir. See you about six, Mr Harris.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Willie.’

  Caroline stood up after Willie had gone. She turned to Peter and said in a small defeated voice: ‘Why should these babies be yours? Why aren’t they Patrick’s?’

  ‘She told me they hadn’t … well … they hadn’t had relations for nearly a year.’

  ‘I see. It’s no good pretending that I’m not hurt because I am. I’m going back to the Rectory now. I need to find out where I stand.’

  The following morning Caroline told Peter she was going to take a few days’ leave and go up to her family home in Northumberland to give herself time to think. She rang the hospital, made arrangements for her work to be covered and then packed a case and left.

  From her bedroom window Suzy Meadows watched her go. Caroline’s white strained face told Suzy what she needed to know. After the last of the playgroup children had gone home, Suzy took Rosie by the hand and marched off with the firm intention of calling in at the Rectory on her way home to lunch. ‘Grasp the nettle,’ her mother always said, and this was some nettle.

  Suzy could see through the Rectory window that Peter was sitting at his desk. She knocked loudly on the door.

  She looked closely at his face when he opened the door and was shocked to see that he appeared to have aged ten years at least. His normally fresh complexion had turned to a strange shade of grey and his eyes had lost all their fire.

  ‘I need to talk to my parish priest.’

  ‘Please come in.’ Before, the sound of his voice would have set her heart zinging but no longer. She had lived an age since anything had had the ability to do that.

  Peter stood back and made room for her to enter. ‘Come in the study.’

  ‘I need to talk.’ Suzy patted Rosie’s head. ‘Can we occupy her somewhere else?’ Peter stood nonplussed for a moment and then suggested to Rosie that she went in the kitchen and played with Mrs Harris’ cats. ‘Do you like cats, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes I do, Mr Harris,’ Rosie beamed at him, and confidently put her hand in his and allowed him to show her where to find the cats. When he returned to the study Suzy was sitting on a chair waiting to speak.

  Suzy cleared her throat. ‘I realised this morning when I saw Caroline leaving and looking so upset that she knows what has happened.’

  ‘I honestly didn’t …’ Suzy held up her hand to stop him speaking.

  ‘There’s no need to say anything at all, just let me speak. I have no intention of anyone knowing that these twins I’m carrying are anyone else’s but Patrick’s. That’s what everyone will think and that’s what I shall allow them to think. There is no way that I would ruin your life nor Caroline’s by telling the truth. To be brutally frank, Peter, I don’t want these babies at all and I shall offer them for adoption. In fact, I’ve already had a word with the adoption people about that. I have it all arranged. As soon as the babies are born they will be handed to the new parents. Then the adoption will go through when they are about a year old. I’ve picked out who their parents shall be.’

  ‘You have?‘

  ‘Yes. It’s quite simply sound common sense. I can’t possibly feed and clothe five children. I need to get back to work as soon as I can and with Rosie nearly ready for school that becomes feasible. If I keep the twins it would be impossible. In any case, I can’t find any more love in my heart at the moment. There is none to spare for two more babies, be they boys or girls.’

  ‘I can never forgive myself for what happened.’

  ‘Why should you feel guilty? I needed you and you, for the moment, needed me. But Caroline is your life’s partner, not me. I wouldn’t do at all. I know I sound absolutely hard as nails but at the moment that’s the only way I know how to cope. The twins are due in December around Christmastime, but I expect they’ll have to be induced so that fits in very nicely with Patrick’s death.’

  ‘Thank you for being so totally considerate towards Caroline and me. I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Not another word shall I say to you or anyone else from now on. What I have said I have said, and that’s it. Caroline hasn’t left for good, has she?’

  A flash of pain crossed Peter’s face. ‘I don’t think so. She’s gone home to Northumberland to sort her feelings out. Walking along the coast there has always done her good. If she doesn’t come back I shall be finished. I can’t go on if I haven’t got Caroline.’

  Suzy stood up as Rosie came back into the study. ‘Some good must come from this, and it will. Two children will have been given life – and what better father could they have than you?’

  Chapter 14

  Four days after Caroline had gone to Northumberland Peter had to go to an inter-Church meeting in Culworth. He knew he would be away all day so he fed Caroline’s cats, made sure the cat flap was unlocked, patted their heads as being the nearest he could get to kissing his darling girl and left with a heavy heart. Inter-Church services were not foremost in his mind. He’d tried ringing Caroline, though if she’d answered he wouldn’t have known what to say. There’d been no reply. He hadn’t realised that he no longer functioned as a single person. If he didn’t hear from her soon he would go straight up to Northumberland and hang the parish.

  He drove back to the Rectory and arrived home about six. There was no letter on the mat as he had hoped. The cats rushed to greet him.

  ‘Cupboard love, that’s what it is – pure cupboard love.’

  As he hung up his jacket he smelt that special lingering perfume of Caroline’s on her coat hanging beside his own. The cats cried for attention and he went to the kitchen to get their food. The table was laid for two. He could smell a casserole cooking.

  The cats pestered, so hardly daring to believe th
at Caroline was back he fed the ravenous beasts while he decided what to do. When he’d put down their dishes he stood listening for a moment and then climbed the stairs. Their bedroom door was open and he could see Caroline unpacking her case. Her back was turned to him and he realised she hadn’t heard him come in.

  ‘Caroline.’

  ‘Peter.’

  ‘You’re back.’

  ‘I am.’

  Caroline turned to face him. ‘Mother sends her love. I’ve put a casserole in the oven. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.’

  ‘I smelt it when I came in. I’ve fed the cats.’

  ‘So have I. The greedy things.’

  ‘Shall I get a bottle of wine opened?’

  ‘That would be nice. I’ll be down in a moment.’

  ‘I didn’t see your car.’

  ‘No, I’ve had to leave it in Culworth for repair. There’s something wrong with the electrics.’

  ‘I was in Culworth. I could have picked you up if I’d known.’

  ‘I caught the bus.’

  ‘I see.’

  On a weekday evening they usually made a bottle of wine last two meals but tonight they finished the whole bottle. They exchanged news about the parish, about the weather, about Northumberland, carefully avoiding the major difficulty which consumed their minds. Caroline broached the subject first.

  ‘Peter, I had to get away to get the right perspective on things. Something about not being able to see the wood for the trees, you know. It took me until yesterday to understand how I felt. I stood high up on the cliffs watching the sea coming pounding in onto the rocks, and I thought about the permanency of the sea and that it goes on relentlessly no matter what trivial pursuits Man manages to occupy himself with. I sat thinking about you, thinking about how you are the permanency in my life. I tried to imagine what my life would be like if I turned my back on you now. Sitting there I said goodbye to the Rectory, to the village, to Muriel and Jimbo and Harriet and Willie and all the others. I set myself up in a little flat and got a job in a hospital. I saw myself coming home at night to an empty flat, trying to make new friends, going to evening classes. It didn’t work. I thought about you coming home to an empty house. No one to talk your problems over with, no one to love you and make sure you were fed properly, no one actually to care whether you lived or died. And I could see no point in both of us being on our own.’

  Peter smiled. ‘Are you saying then that the sole reason for you coming back is to make sure the village doesn’t sit sniffing the air during the sermon because the rector hasn’t washed his socks?’

  ‘Yes, you could say that.’ Caroline looked up at him and grinned. ‘That’s if you want me.’

  ‘A lifetime of washing my own socks couldn’t make up for what I’ve done to you. You make me feel very humble. Could you possibly sit on my knee?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They talked well into the night. The cats gave up hoping for their nightly walk around the garden with Caroline and went to bed in a huff. The Aga in need of its usual stoking up went unattended, the Rectory door remained unlocked and the bedroom light stayed on all night.

  Chapter 15

  The following Sunday, Peter’s sermon dealt with forgiveness. Muriel listened with deep interest. That was exactly what she should be doing to Scott McDonald – forgiving him, even though he had caused her so much pain. She looked round the church to see if there was anyone else who should be listening with particular interest to Peter’s powerful, heartfelt words. Well, old Jimmy Glover had put in one of his rare appearances, and he certainly needed to ask forgiveness for the bad language he used when the children threw sticks into his tree to get the conkers to fall. And Vera, who lived next door to Pat Duckett – now she needed to ask forgiveness for her disgraceful behaviour outside The Royal Oak on Friday night, when she had had too much to drink. Betty McDonald had had to throw her out – really throw her out, not just ask her to leave. Come to think of it, Muriel supposed everybody had something they needed to ask forgiveness for …

  After the service, she stood talking to Lady Bissett whose head was full of arrangements for next month’s Village Flower and Vegetable Show.

  ‘Well, Muriel, if you go on winning like you do we shall have to ban you to give someone else a chance.’

  ‘I’m not competing this year.’

  ‘Not at all?’

  ‘No. I haven’t the time to devote to my garden like I used to. I’m so busy, you see.’

  ‘Of course – I’d forgotten you’d got a job. I’ve decided to organise more classes for the flower-arranging this year and some more for the children. If they enter things they’re bound to bring their parents. Do you think Jimbo might provide the refreshments?’

  ‘He’s already promised Peter to provide the meat for the Harvest Supper. We can’t go on asking and asking.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Muriel! He’s making a packet out of this village, what with the store and the tearoom and restaurant. He can well afford it.’

  ‘Can well afford what?’

  Lady Bissett hadn’t realised that Harriet was standing right behind her.

  ‘Ah, Harriet. I was just saying to Muriel here that you and Jimbo might be so kind as to provide something towards the refreshments for the Village Show.’

  ‘It sounded to me as if you were saying we could well afford to provide the lot. It’s not Charity Hall, you know. We do actually run a business.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘How did you mean it, then?’ Harriet retorted. Muriel felt very uncomfortable. She hated rows and this one looked as if it was going to be a big one. But Lady Bissett was saved from answering Harriet’s belligerent question by a loud joyous shout.

  ‘Moo? It is – it’s really Moo! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’

  Muriel turned round to see who had used a name she hadn’t been called since she was a girl. The owner of the cultured voice stood about five feet six in his socks. He had thick snow-white hair, big bushy eyebrows, a very tanned complexion, a haughty nose and big laughing bright brown eyes. She blushed bright red as she realised who he was.

  ‘Why it’s … it’s … Ralphie! I don’t believe it.’ Before she could say any more he had clasped her in his arms and given her a hearty kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘What are you doing here, Moo? You left the village years ago.’

  Muriel tried to restore her equilibrium but didn’t succeed; she was quite breathless. Swallowing hard she replied, ‘I did, but when I retired I came back here and bought a little house. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Come to see the old place to find somewhere to live. I’ve retired, you see – fancied coming back to the old roots. Well, would you believe it! You haven’t changed a bit. This is wonderful! Won’t you introduce me to your friends?’

  In a state of total confusion and almost unable to differentiate between everyone because of a sudden mist which had come down over her eyes, Muriel introduced him.

  ‘This is Sir Ralph Templeton. Ralphie, this is Harriet Charter-Plackett who owns the village store with her husband James who’s over there talking to the rector. This is Liz and Neville Neal from Glebe House. This is Lady Bissett, who’s husband Sir Ronald you might know, with him being a trades union leader. He’s been on TV a lot …’

  ‘Living abroad, I haven’t had that pleasure.’ He shook hands with them all. ‘Delighted to meet you, how do you do. What a pleasure to meet Moo’s friends! There must be a lot of newcomers to the village, I imagine, and very few of the old families left.’

  Muriel found her voice again. ‘Well, Jimmy Glover’s still here, and Valda and Thelma Senior, the twins. You remember them, don’t you?’

  ‘Not the twins!’

  ‘I can’t think of anyone else at the moment.’

  ‘Come on, Moo, I’ll take you out to lunch. We’ve lots to talk about – more than forty years to catch up on. You will excuse us, won’t you?’ he said to those around
him. ‘I’m sure we’ll see each other again before long.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Muriel panicked. ‘No, I really can’t.’

  ‘Have you other plans?’

  ‘No. Well, yes … I have. I like to garden on Sunday afternoons in the summer and—’

  Ralphie interrupted, ‘The gardening can wait, can’t it, surely?’

  ‘Well, I suppose it can, but no, I can’t come with you for lunch. It wouldn’t do.’

  ‘Wouldn’t do? I’m not abducting you, Muriel, simply asking you out for a meal. I’ll bring you straight back if you like.’

  Harriet gave her a nudge. ‘Go on, Muriel. You can’t say no, you’ve so much to talk about.’

  ‘Well, perhaps I might then.’

  Before she knew it Muriel was whisked off towards Sir Ralph’s Mercedes which he’d parked in Church Road.

  ‘Moo, I’m so sorry – I didn’t stop to think. Have you a husband we ought to be taking with us?’

  Muriel, who was already blushing at the prospect of the entire village seeing her being carried off by this dynamic personage, went even redder.

  ‘No, but I do have a dog and I can’t go anywhere until he’s been for a little walk.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Here by the church in Glebe Cottages.’

  ‘Go and get him, then. I’ve got a cover I can put on the back seat and we’ll take him out for a run. I know a nice place in Culworth where we could have lunch afterwards.’

  The congregation mysteriously found reasons for lingering around the lych gate. They weren’t going to miss the chance of watching Muriel Hipkin being driven off in such style. Pericles climbed into the car as though he’d been going for rides in a Mercedes all his life, and when Muriel waved goodbye to the crowd at the gate, she felt quite royal.

  Lady Bissett was taken aback by the sudden change in Muriel’s social status.

  ‘Who the dickens is Ralphie?’ she said too loudly, forgetting she was titled.

  Harriet laughed. ‘I really don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.’