The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 19

  Just before the service started - in fact, only a minute before it all began - there was Jake standing in the aisle, looking at the three of them sitting in the Rectory pew. Beth’s heart leapt with joy. She scarcely recognised him. On the school coach he wore his uniform, Prince Henry’s being old-fashioned and not allowing the sixth-formers to wear casual clothes, and she was used to that, but this morning he wore a smart suit, a really smart tie and, when she looked down at his feet, highly polished shoes, too. He’d done all this for her sake. Her heart swelled with pride. He looked so good, so incredibly handsome.

  ‘Good morning, Doctor Harris, may I join you?’

  Caroline looked up and instantly knew he was trying to curry favour with Peter. She moved her feet so he could squeeze past her and sit next to Beth.

  Jake took Beth’s hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it, and Beth loved him for it. Alex made a point of showing his disgust by pretending to vomit, so she kicked his ankle. Why on earth had she been given a brother? God, he was awful.

  Jake swiftly found his way through the service, finding the right places at the right moment, with no fumbling or hesitation, which made her prouder still, because she knew he never went to church, ever, and here he was behaving as a regular churchgoer should. He could sing, too - a light tenor, she judged - and she blushed bright red when he caught her admiring him singing.

  At the point when the choir sang their anthem, the entire congregation was amazed to see Ford Barclay step forward, obviously about to sing the solo part. Gilbert Johns gathered the eyes of every member of his choir and they burst into song. Everyone knew Ford was a member of the choir but had no idea he was good enough to sing solo. But was he? More than one cringed at the prospect.

  His glorious voice rose to the rafters in the manner of an Italian tenor, impressive, pitch-perfect. Ford gave everyone a wonderful experience and the rest of the choir rose to the occasion. A moment of silence greeted the conclusion of the anthem and then, spontaneously, the congregation burst into applause. A restrained murmur of delight ran through the church as the choir sat down and Ford returned to his place.

  For Beth, apart from her appreciation of Ford’s big moment, the entire service passed in a mist while she planned how to get Jake invited to lunch. But she needn’t have bothered because her dad did it himself, much to her total astonishment. She began to suspect he was hatching some kind of plot to discredit Jake, but as the time wore on and they’d had coffee, sat talking in the sitting room and eaten lunch, which happened to be another of Mum’s triumphs, Beth began to relax. So Dad wasn’t being devious. But what was he doing?

  There was an antiques fair in the village hall in Little Derehams that afternoon, and as a way of escaping parental supervision Jake suggested he and Beth went to see it. ‘We could go on our bikes.’

  Beth quickly agreed, went upstairs to change, hoping he wouldn’t suggest detouring into Sykes Wood on the way. But he didn’t. He was courteous, thoughtful and chatty.

  In some stretches of the road to Little Derehams they cycled one behind the other as the road was so narrow, then as they cycled side by side when the road was wide enough Jake said, ‘Considering your brother beat me up the other week he has been uncommonly friendly.’

  Beth’s brakes shuddered her bike to a stop. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ Instantly he regretted mentioning the fight, because now she’d ask the hows and the whys, and before he knew it he’d be on the rack . . .

  ‘I did not. He’s never said a word. What made him do it? When? That’s not like him.’

  Jake had to lie. ‘I think it was because we went for that walk that Saturday.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. I’m going home to challenge him about it. Right now.’ She turned her bike round.

  Jake put his hand on her handlebars. ‘Don’t do that. It’ll spoil our afternoon together. I like your parents but being on our own is much more fun.’ He leaned across and kissed her mouth, and kissed it again and then once more, and he felt her calm down. ‘There, let’s push on. He didn’t mean anything by it, honestly, and I wasn’t hurt.’ He remembered his heavily bruised ribs and stiff jaw, and knew he’d lied again, but it was all in a good cause. To his relief Beth agreed, having loved his kisses and, like him, wanting to spend time together. They chained their bikes together outside the village hall and wandered in.

  They dutifully paid their entrance fee and set off round the stalls. There were a few things they fancied but didn’t buy, and then they bumped into Merc and Ford. There was no way of pretending not to have seen them, the hall was too small for that. Beth was horrified. They’d be bound to say something about Jake being at their party last night. But they never mentioned it, not a word, and Ford suggested that they all sat in the little café and had a drink and some cake.

  ‘Would you like that, Beth?’ Merc asked. ‘I can imagine what it’s like being short of money when you’re still at school.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Jake?’

  Jake nodded.

  So they sat down together and ate slices of lemon cake oozing with lemon curd. Jake and Ford had a second slice, and Ford ordered another pot of tea. They chatted away as though they were lifelong friends, which seemed odd with people their age, but the two of them made it so easy to talk.

  ‘How did you get here?’ Ford asked.

  ‘Well, I’ve been to lunch at the Rectory and we’ve come on our bikes.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll put the bikes in our 4x4 and drive you back. It’s a long way uphill for Beth and it’s on our way. Finished?’

  Before they left Jake helped Ford to load a 1930s solid oak bureau they’d bought into the back of the 4x4. ‘Merc saw it and it reminded her of one her granny used to have. It’s the genuine thing, you see. Needs a bit of cleaning up, but it’ll be all right. Thanks, Jake.’ Then he leaned towards him and said quietly, ‘Didn’t know Beth had a boyfriend.’

  Beth overheard him and blushed furiously when Jake answered, ‘We’re just friends, you know, that’s all. Her brother Alex goes to the same school as me.’

  ‘Ah! Right.’

  She’d thought they were more than just ‘friends’, that he was her friend not Alex’s. She wanted to cry. Was that how he really saw her? As Alex’s sister?

  They stopped outside Glebe House for Jake to help Ford lift the bureau out and carry it into the house, then he and Beth lifted their bikes out and wheeled them along to the Rectory.

  Jake stood holding his bike. ‘I’ll just come in and thank your mother for lunch and then I’ll go,’ he said.

  ‘I see. Don’t worry, I’ll give her your thanks.’ Her voice was tight and squeaky because she was so upset. But she was glad he was going home, and hated the thought of seeing him on the school coach the next morning. She’d probably not even acknowledge him, not after what he’d said to Ford. ‘See you then.’

  Jake took hold of her hand and squeezed it, ‘Did you mind me coming to church? Was it all right?’

  ‘Of course. After all, you are Alex’s friend. I’ll take my bike round the back. See you Monday.’

  She felt shrivelled inside, smaller and insignificant. How could he? How could he? Not even a kiss. What had she done wrong? Expected too much, pushed things along too fast? She hadn’t, though. Dad had warned him off and that had made him cool it. He, her dad, was to blame. Tears formed in her eyes, but she couldn’t let them, because before she knew it Dad would be comforting her and she could not allow that, because she wouldn’t be able to be cross with him then.

  She stormed in through the back door ready for battle. Caroline was reading the Sunday paper.

  ‘Where’s Alex, Mum?’

  ‘Doing his prep.’

  ‘Huh! Typical. Dad?’

  ‘In the study.’

  Beth crossed the hall, and though the study door was shut she burst in without knocking, which she knew from babyhood was not permitted. She’d always accepted it as
a fact of life and never questioned it, but today . . . life-long restrictions were for casting aside.

  But she was brought up short. He was at his desk, looking at their old photographs, which were spread out on his desk, still not in those photo albums Mum had bought specially years ago and never got round to filling with the myriad photos she and Dad had taken of them over the years. He was holding one of her in those favourite red shorts of hers, taken when she was almost three. And there she was, a pretty little blonde, blue-eyed cherub, laughing with glee at something or other, then her dad looked at her, and his eyes began to fill with tears. ‘Obviously I can’t, but I wish, right now, that I could keep you like that for ever and ever.’ He reached out a hand to her and she took it and squeezed it tight. Damn, she thought.

  ‘I feel concern for you, Beth, about him. You can feel his sexuality almost taking him over sometimes and I do not want you to be the one . . .’

  ‘You mean you don’t believe in sex outside marriage?’

  ‘Not sex so freely indulged in as it is at the moment, generally speaking, among people of your age. I feel it can’t be right, more especially for women than for men.’

  ‘But men have to have women to do it with, haven’t they? Well . . . some don’t, I suppose.’

  ‘However, my darling, you be in charge, right? This day and every day. You do not allow anything to happen to you about which you have the smallest qualm, nothing shifty nor sneaky nor mean, because that is damaging to one’s spirit. Real love has nothing of that in it. Real love is beautiful. Have I your promise on that?’

  Beth nodded.

  ‘Keep this picture of all that innocence in your mind.’ He held up the cherub to remind her. ‘Don’t lose it to any Tom, Dick or Harry. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m going for a walk. Want to come?’

  ‘No, I’ve got prep to do. Dad, you’re not saying sex can’t be decent and respectable?’

  ‘I’m talking about loving. That’s something special and worthwhile, completely different from common-or-garden sex that people talk so glibly about.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Have you had a word with Jake, warning him off, kind of?’

  Peter shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

  She knew he was speaking the truth, him being so keen on it.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Don’t talk to Alex about this, will you? What you’ve said to me?’

  ‘Strictly private. Help me collect this lot together.’

  So she did. They were all put back as they usually were in a box file till that mythical moment when Mum had time.

  ‘Must go and change. I admire you for working hard at school; it is the only way to achieve your objectives.’

  ‘You don’t know what my objectives are.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Do you know?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I decided the other day, I’m going for a PhD in archaeology. All that mud and unearthing things buried for generations. Tramping along in trenches and finding just a little something someone used hundreds of years ago and being able to hold it and feel it and think about them and lift up a tiny corner of their century to throw some light on the way they lived their lives.’

  ‘Right!’ He placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’m surprised by that. I’m beginning to think I don’t know my daughter at all.’

  Beth looked up at him, admiring his loving, handsome face and the sheer incandescent joy of him, and said, ‘Oh, I think you do, dearest Papa, you truly do.’ She shook her head. ‘You truly do. Enjoy your walk.’

  Caroline accompanied Peter on his walk, leaving Alex and Beth in the Rectory alone. Beth made a cup of tea just how Alex liked it and took it upstairs to the attic for him.

  ‘It’s me with tea and biscuits for the workaholic.’

  She pushed the door open with her knee and walked in. He was sitting in his easy chair reading the physics book Jake had given him the other day. He put his bookmark in and closed it.

  ‘Thanks. I need that. And biscuits, too. Thanks. Enjoy your ride? Buy anything?’

  ‘Yes. No. Why did you beat him up?’

  Startled by the unexpectedness of her question, Alex answered cautiously, well aware he was in treacherous territory.

  ‘Felt like it.’

  ‘Alex Harris does nothing without a very good reason.’

  ‘OK. I overheard him boasting.’

  ‘Boasting? About what?’ Then her face drained of colour. ‘Not me?’

  Alex nodded. ‘This tea’s nice. Thanks.’

  ‘I haven’t known you all these years without knowing how you like your tea.’

  ‘Mum and Dad gone out?’

  ‘Yes, for a walk. I think you owe it to me to tell me why you beat him up. Really tell me.’

  Choosing his words with the greatest care, Alex told her not the actual words, they were too foul, rather their implication. ‘I know it’s not true because you told me about why you ran home. I know it’s hard to forget what happened in Africa . . . but remember . . . it . . . didn’t actually happen, only might have done, and that’s the difference.’ Alex swallowed hard, recalling smashing the soldier’s skull with the butt of the man’s own rifle.

  ‘Jake exaggerated what happened in Sykes Wood to boost his own ego and make himself appear special - men can be like that, you know. I couldn’t stand letting him get away with it, that’s all. Not when it was you.’

  Beth sat silently for a while, thinking about Jake and wondering why he said what wasn’t true. If he had real feelings for her he wouldn’t have said what he did in the showers. She knew Alex wouldn’t have spoken like that about a girlfriend of his. Her voice trembled when she next spoke. ‘I find it so hard to believe he talked about me like that. There’s a side to him I know nothing about, isn’t there? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

  ‘No need to. I don’t know him all that well. We simply go to the same school, that’s all. Pass me another biscuit, please. How did you know?’

  ‘Jake mentioned it and then immediately I could see he wished he hadn’t. Now I know why. He’s definitely gone off me. I thought Dad had said something but he hasn’t and I believe him, so it must be my fault.’

  ‘I doubt it by the look on his face when we were having coffee.’

  Hope rose for Beth. ‘Look on his face?’

  ‘I caught him admiring you.’

  ‘Oh! Wow!’

  ‘Remember, when you sup with the devil, Beth, you need a long spoon.’

  ‘Where on earth did you get that from?’

  ‘Grandmama Charter-Plackett. She used it once and I thought it was rather a good thing to remember.’

  ‘Right. Thanks for standing up for me, anyway.’

  ‘Anytime. Here, take my cup.’ He picked up the physics book and Beth thought about it being with Jake in Jake’s room, in Jake’s bag. His hands had held it, his fingers had touched it, his eyes had read it . . . then she recalled he was not all pure gold, and, yes, she’d better be in charge. In fact, she rather gloried in Alex fighting him. No more than he deserved for the things he’d lied about doing in Sykes Wood. She’d have to alter her tactics where Master Jake was concerned. A dose of indifference might be effective. But it would be hard, so very hard. He had such . . . kissability. He was just the most truly sublime man she’d ever met.

  So it was Jake feeling rejected on Monday morning when Beth ignored him and didn’t even offer to sit next to him on the coach when it arrived. Had she learned about Janey? He rather hoped not. He wouldn’t want her hurt because of him. She couldn’t have heard; he and Janey had been so discreet. He’d have to win Beth back for the simple reason that the beauty of her, both inside and out, would not leave his mind. He’d never met a girl who appealed to him as much as she did. Even her family, especially the Rector, somehow raised his aspirations, made him know for certain that there were better things in life than a careless mother with a string of men, than a father deeply lonely
for his son, than the chaotic lifestyle he suffered: a place where life was ordered and uplifting, where respecting each other was valued. He’d deserved the hiding Alex gave him, for what he’d said about her was completely untrue and unforgivable, and he needed to make it up to her.

  On the Wednesday of that week Caroline wasn’t ‘doctoring’, as Dottie called it, so she had time to read the post when it came just after the twins had left for the school coach. Peter had gone out early to attend a retreat at the Abbey in Culworth, so once the breakfast was cleared up and Dottie had got cracking with her Wednesday chores, Caroline settled down in her rocking chair beside the Aga and found the first letter was for Beth in a handwriting she didn’t recognise. For a brief moment her heart lurched. Not Suzy Palmer again, please God. But then she knew it wasn’t and saw she had one, too, in the same handwriting.