The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Read online

  Inspector Proctor from Culworth was waiting for them in the vestry.

  ‘Good morning, Rector. The cups have been tested for fingerprints, sir, so it’s all right to handle them. They are yours, are they, sir?’

  ‘Yes, indeed they are, Inspector. Thank goodness we’ve got them back – undamaged, too. Where did you find them?’

  ‘In a case on Culworth Station. Left there by the thief. Might I suggest, sir, that when you’re allowed to have them back they are kept either in a bank vault, or that you provide better security for them than a stout cupboard?’

  ‘Certainly, Inspector. I shall deal with it as soon as you leave. Thank you very much indeed for all your efforts. No news of Sharon McDonald, I take it?’

  ‘None at all, sir. I wish there was, for there’s a few loose ends that she could tie up for us if we could find her. No need to say this, sir, but if you should hear anything of her wherebouts, you will let us know?’

  ‘Of course, Inspector. We are most indebted to you, thank you again.’

  The inspector went round to The Royal Oak after leaving the church. He was carrying a small case. He hammered on the door. A voice called through, ‘We’re not open yet.’

  ‘Police here, can we come in, please?’

  The bolts shot back and the door was opened by Mac. ‘Have you found our Sharon?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry to say we haven’t, but we wonder if you recognise this case?’

  ‘I’ll fetch Betty. She’ll know better than me.’

  Betty came through from the other bar still wearing her dressing gown.

  ‘Mrs McDonald, do you recognise this case?’

  ‘Oh, have yer found her?’ She clutched the bar counter for support.

  ‘No, we haven’t, but we’ve found this case and we wonder if it’s hers?’

  ‘Well yes, it certainly looks like one I bought a few years back. I’ll go and check.’ She nodded to the inspector when she returned. ‘That’s right, mine isn’t there, so I expect our Sharon borrowed it to put her stuff in. Have you no clues where she went, Inspector?’

  ‘We know she went to Culworth Station in the early hours of the day she disappeared and left this case under a seat in the Ladies, and we expect she caught the first London train but we can’t trace her after that.’

  ‘London? She doesn’t know anybody there.’

  ‘Lots of young people go to London. Think they won’t get found, with it being so big.’

  ‘Anyway, Inspector, I’ve a bar to run so you’ll have to excuse me.’

  Mac asked the inspector if the case was empty when they found it.

  ‘No, Mr McDonald. Inside were the two chalices stolen from St Thomas à Becket.’

  Mac sat down heavily on the nearest stool. ‘Is there no end to it? What will that girl do next! I’m right sorry Mr Palmer’s been involved. It wouldn’t be him, you know. It’d be our Sharon – man-mad she’s been for years. I daren’t think what she used to get up to in Culworth.’

  ‘Well, we’ve a pretty good idea. But don’t trouble yourself with that at the moment, Mr McDonald. If you hear or see anything, let us know straight away, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Jimbo was surprised to find that Muriel had not turned up for work. She had never been absent before, except when she had gone to Rome. Harriet promised to go round to make sure she was all right.

  ‘Maybe she’s forgotten it’s Wednesday. I’ve got one or two things to do and then I’ll pop across. Have you seen my action list anywhere? I always put it here by the order book and I can’t find it. Dammit, I’ll have to start remembering all over again. I’ll go and see Muriel first and then make a new list when I get back.’

  Harriet knocked on the door and stood admiring Muriel’s winter pansies. However did she find the time to keep her garden so lovely! Every flower was meticulously manicured and all the flowerbeds were so neat and tidy, not a single weed. When Muriel didn’t answer the door she decided to go round the back and knock on the kitchen door. There was still no answer, though somehow she felt sure there was someone about. Round at the front door again she knocked once more. The door opened a little and there stood Muriel in her dressing gown.

  ‘Yes? Oh, good morning, Harriet.’

  ‘It’s only me, come to ask if you’re all right. It’s Wednesday, you see, and you haven’t come to the tearoom.’

  ‘I’ve got a tummy upset and I’m afraid I can’t leave the house.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. Look, is there anything I can get you?’

  ‘No thank you, I’ve got everything I need.’

  ‘I’ll call again tomorrow and see how you are. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?’

  ‘Oh no, thank you, not a doctor.’

  ‘Hope you’ll soon feel better. See you tomorrow.’

  Muriel closed the door and stood with her back to it. The knife Sharon was holding was only a foot away from Muriel’s chest.

  ‘Well done, Moo. We’ll make an actress of you yet.’

  ‘I’m going to get dressed now.’

  ‘Oh no, you’re not. You stay like that. Make me some breakfast now.’

  There was absolutely no alternative, Sharon had the upper hand. Neither of them had slept all night and Muriel genuinely felt ill. Her mind struggled round and round her problem. She’d called Pericles in from the garden last night and left the door open for him to come in. She’d turned from making her Ovaltine to find Sharon – dishevelled, grimy, without make-up and desperately cold, standing in her kitchen. To think the girl had been hiding in the shed in the churchyard all day, waiting for the village to go quiet before coming to the door. Sharon had taken one of Muriel’s Sabatier knives they’d given her at the office when she left, so there was no alternative but to do as she said and hope. During the night Sharon had told her the whole story. It was the hot chocolate and the piece of ginger cake which had weakened Sharon’s armour. Muriel made it about two o’clock, more for something to do than any real need.

  ‘This is nice, Moo. Real homely. That’s what you like, isn’t it, things comfortable and homely, not too challenging? Me, I like change and excitement. Poke the fire a bit, it’s getting cold. Put some more coal on. Neat and tidy, smart and clean, that’s you all over. Mind – there’s a bit of coal-dust on the rug. Whoops, that won’t do, will it? It was a good fire I made at number three, wasn’t it? Nice mess that created. Your Ralphie shouldn’t have told me off that night in the bar. That Ralphie of yours, has he been to bed with you? Don’t be embarrassed, Moo, it’s what makes the world go round. Men – that’s all they want, yer know. King Street in Culworth, you should see the kerb-crawlers there. Nice market town, real piece of Olde England but they’re all at it. I should know. I’ve earned more money there in one night than in a whole week at Tesco’s.’

  ‘Sharon, I don’t believe you.’

  ‘No, well, you believe the best in everybody. You won’t find any best in me. I’m rotten through and through.’

  ‘No one is as bad as that.’

  ‘Oh yes, I am. You won’t believe the things I’ve done. Climbed into Michael Palmer’s bed night before last, really fancied him but he jumped out like a frightened rabbit. Cor, you should have seen him. Remember his wife Stella? Lesbian, yer know she was. Followed her one night in Culworth, saw her go into a pub there what specialises in people like her. I told her I’d tell good and proper about her goings-on. She gave me money to shut me up. Then she hanged herself. Good riddance to her, who wants rubbish people like that.’ She moved the knife into her other hand and pointed it at Muriel.

  ‘No one ever found out it was me who’d threatened her, police running round like chickens with their heads cut off.’ She flicked the knife sharply as though decapitating one. ‘But I kept mum. Who’d think a girl of sixteen could bring off a coup like that, eh? They ran round like two chickens with their heads cut off when they found Toria Clark. She was a bloody idiot, challenging me and trying to stop me writing that poster
. She didn’t know what power I had. That night I was so full of power nothing and nobody could stop me.’

  ‘Sharon, are you making all this up?’

  ‘You stupid old cow, don’t you believe me? Someone’s got to believe me. You’ve got to take notice of what I say, or you’ll be like all the others. My mum never listens to what I say. My dad never listens and our Scott’s not even worth bothering about, the little toad. All my life I’ve heard other children at school saying “This weekend, mum and dad are taking us to Weston for the day and my dad’s promised to take me out in a boat” or they were going to the zoo or up to London. What was Sharon doing? Sitting upstairs with some chocolate watching telly and looking after our Scott. Weekend after weekend. So when I got older I found my own entertainment. I made that Jimbo sit up though when I drowned his cat. He treated me like dirt in his shop, so I paid him back. All the money in the world he has, and thinks he’s so superior.’

  ‘He works very hard all day and every day. He earns every penny he gets.’

  ‘More fool him. I like easy money. Have you got any money?’

  ‘Only a few pounds. I don’t keep money in the house.’

  ‘When I go I’ll take that.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know but it’ll have to be a long way away because they’ll be after me.’ Sharon’s eyes became crafty. She looked about the room. ‘Where’s Pericles?’

  ‘In his basket asleep.’

  ‘Fond of him, are you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sharon’s mind darted from one thing to another. ‘If you steal from the church, will something evil happen to you?’

  ‘Was it you who stole the chalices?’

  ‘What if it was?’

  ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘Under a seat in the Ladies in Culworth Station. Got worried, yer see, stealing from the church, so I thought if I left them there the police would think I’d gone to London, put them off the scent like they do in detective stories.’

  Sharon stood up and taking the knife with her, went into the kitchen pushing Muriel in front of her.

  Pericles was asleep in his basket. ‘See him? One peep out of you and I shall stick this right through him, right the way through and you’ll be able to hear him screaming.’ She put the point of the knife close to his ribs and prodded him with it. Pericles jumped up and snapped at her.

  ‘See – even the dog don’t like me. Come back here for a pat, you nasty little thing. Come here!’

  ‘He won’t come if you shout, he’s not used to it.’

  The girl changed her tone to a wheedle: ‘Come on, then, little Pericles. Come to Sharon, there’s a good boy, there’s a good boy.’ She grabbed his scruff and pointed the knife close to his eyes. ‘Remember, remember, you little sod.’ When she released him Pericles scrabbled along the floor towards Muriel. She bent down to pick him up, but Sharon grabbed at her arm. ‘Oh no, Moo, he doesn’t deserve a cuddle. He tried to bite poor Sharon, he did.’

  Muriel ignored her and scooped him up. The knife quickly arrived at her throat.

  ‘Put him down, Moo. Do as I say – now! That’s better. I’ve murdered once and I can do it again. The second time is easier, they say.’

  She motioned to Muriel to return to the sitting room. They both sat down and remained in silence. If I can keep awake, thought Muriel, she might drop asleep and I can creep out. Oh dear God, if she kills Pericles whatever shall I do? Ralphie, why aren’t you here? This would never have happened if you had been here. Please, Ralphie, come and find me. You’d know something was wrong. If he comes to the door how can I let him know, without Sharon understanding, that something is wrong? Shall I blink my eyes? Talk rubbish? My word, her eyes are beginning to close. I’ll count to one thousand before I get up. It’s three o’clock. No one will be about. The phone box, that’s it – the phone box and 999. One hundred and four. One hundred and five. One hundred and six. She didn’t actually murder Stella Palmer, one hundred and fifty. Killing with a rounders bat, that was vicious. How dreadful. The clock ticked, two hundred and two, the fire crackled and Sharon still sat with her eyes closed.

  The counting in Muriel’s head went on and on. Two hundred and forty, two hundred and forty-one. I shan’t wait to one thousand, I’ll have a try at five hundred. Three hundred and seven. It’s so hard to keep awake. Four hundred and fifty-nine. She still hasn’t opened her eyes, but is she asleep or playing with me like a cat with a mouse? Four hundred and seventy-six. Four hundred and seventy-seven. A coal in the fire dropped suddenly and sparks flew up. Four hundred and seventy-nine. She didn’t move; she didn’t hear it. Five hundred. Muriel placed her feet slightly apart on the carpet, checked where the rug was so as not to trip over it and slowly, slowly stood up. A knee cracked as it straightened. No movement. No movement. Inch by inch she walked forward. Please God, don’t let Pericles decide to get up and come in. Inch by inch. Don’t breathe, don’t breathe. Two more feet and she’d be at the door. When the door opens run like the wind. Slippers won’t make a sound. One more step. She turned to check that Sharon was still asleep and bumped into her, nose to nose. Muriel screamed.

  ‘Thought you’d escape, did yer, Moo?’ Sharon had Muriel’s hair in a tight cruel grip. She’d spent the rest of the night tied tightly by her dressing-gown cord to Sharon’s wrist. ‘One move and I shall know. Just one itsy bitsy move and Pericles will be a gonner.’

  ‘You’ll have to come to the bathroom with me. I want to have a bath. I haven’t washed for two days.’

  ‘Very well. There’s plenty of hot water. I’ll sit outside the door.’

  ‘You won’t, you’ll be in there with me.’

  ‘But you’ll be having a bath.’

  ‘So? Never seen a woman in her birthday suit before? Something new every day when you’re with me.’

  She made Muriel run the bath for her.

  ‘No bubbles? I like bubbles.’

  ‘No bubbles, only oil.’

  Sharon dropped her clothes on the floor and stood in front of the mirror.

  ‘Cor, I do need a bath. Got yer eyes shut, have yer? You daft old cow. Moo, that’s the right name for you. Moooo. Mooooo.’

  Muriel did open her eyes and wished her body looked like Sharon’s. It was a pity Sharon had abused it so.

  When the bathing was over Muriel was forced into the bedroom and made to get out fresh underwear and a skirt and blouse and a cardigan. When Sharon had the outfit on she stood in front of Muriel’s mirror and laughed.

  ‘Oh God, what a sight. It looks awful on you, but on me it’s a disaster area. Time that Ralphie bought you some clothes with a bit of style. That’s what you lack – style. We’ll go downstairs now and you can make me something else to eat.’

  They were halfway down the spiral stairs when a knock came at the door.

  The knife-point pricked Muriel’s back very slightly.

  ‘They might go away. Keep still.’

  ‘I’ll have to answer. It’s probably the postman with a parcel. I am expecting one.’

  Sharon whispered, ‘Answer it then, but I’m right behind you. Where’s Pericles?’

  ‘Shut in the kitchen.’

  They walked like two halves of a pantomime horse towards the front door.

  Sharon hid behind the door and Muriel opened it slightly. Thank God it was Ralph.

  ‘Good morning, Moo. I’ve just been in the tearoom to see you and have a coffee but Jimbo says you’re ill this morning. Is there anything I could get for you?’

  ‘No, nothing … thank you.’

  ‘Would you like me to come in and make you some camomile tea or something?’

  ‘No, thank you. I shall be all right. Ralphie, you know you asked me about going to the theatre tomorrow night to see The Waiting Game? Well, yes, I’d like to go. It’s a thriller, isn’t it?’ She managed to wink.

  Ralph looked puzzled, hesitated and then said, ‘Right, I’ll try to get the tickets. I’ll let yo
u know tomorrow. Hope you’ll soon be better.’ He looked her full in the face, waved and went down the path.

  The knife-point prodded Muriel somewhere around her kidneys. ‘What you playing at?’

  ‘I had to tell him. He asked me to let him know and we don’t want him back again asking if I’ve decided to go, do we?’

  ‘No.’

  Ralph had backed off, puzzled by Muriel’s suggestion. He’d never asked her to go to the theatre. What on earth was she talking about?

  He went round to see Jimbo again and told him what Muriel had said.

  They checked the paper and could find no mention of the play being performed locally.

  ‘She winked, you see. She didn’t really mean it.’

  ‘Muriel was ill a few months ago. I do hope it’s not starting all over again.’

  ‘She wasn’t dressed, which isn’t like Muriel, is it? – even if she’s not well. I know this sounds mad but I had the feeling that Muriel was being overheard.’

  The problem unsolved, Ralph went off to find Peter. He’d decided to agree to becoming a church warden. Time he got involved. He wandered up the church path hoping the rector would be about, and when he couldn’t find him, he had a walk around looking at the gravestones. He was trying to decipher a very ancient one near the churchyard wall when he saw how conveniently the wall was situated for seeing into Muriel’s house. Looking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, he walked along the side of the wall to find the best spot for seeing easily into the back windows of her house. He propped himself on an old headstone and sat with his head barely visible above the wall.

  He’d only been there a few minutes when he spotted Muriel, still in her dressing gown, obviously beginning to prepare food. Then he saw what he had suspected: someone else was in the kitchen, and that someone else was wearing Muriel’s clothes. Someone as fastidious as she, did not lend their clothes willingly. For a moment only, the other person came close to the back window. Peroxided hair … where had he seen that before? Who on earth was it? It was that daughter from The Royal Oak, Sharon what’s-her-name. Suddenly, Muriel’s odd behaviour became absolutely clear to Ralph. Sharon was hiding in her house and Muriel was very frightened. Ralph felt terribly cold and very afraid. The Waiting Game. Of course, that was what Muriel was having to play! ‘The Waiting Game’.