The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 6

  Wednesday would be the best day to go. Monday didn’t seem the right day for shopping in her mind; there was too much washing and ironing to do and tidying of the house after the weekend. Tuesday and Thursday she was needed at the school, and Friday morning she played for the morning prayers in the church, which meant that she would miss the only bus into town. So Wednesday it was.

  Tuesday evening there was a knock at the door and on the step stood Caroline Harris.

  ‘Hope I’m not intruding. I felt like a chat – have you the time?’

  ‘Of course! Do come in. Shall we have a cup of tea, or would you like a sherry? I do have a very nice one. It’s years old and very good.’

  ‘Sherry would make a delightful change from the gallons of tea I drink at the hospital. I swear if there was a shortage of tea the whole place would grind to a halt. What a lovely house you have, Muriel. That does sound rude but I can’t help but comment.’

  Muriel disappeared into the sideboard cupboard and re-emerged with a bottle of sherry and two very attractive crystal glasses. A little tray with a neat white cloth on it and a china plate with dry biscuits arranged in a circle completed her hospitality.

  ‘I heard all about Pericles escaping,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m glad you found him safe and sound.’

  ‘Well, actually, it was Sir Ronald who found him. He’d been digging for rabbits – Pericles, that is, not Sir Ronald.’ They both giggled at the prospect of Sir Ronald digging for rabbits.

  Caroline took a sip of her sherry and a nibble of her biscuit, dusted the crumbs from her skirt and cleared her throat.

  ‘We’ve had an invitation from Jimbo and Harriet to Jimbo’s fortieth birthday party.’

  ‘So have I – isn’t it exciting? I’m going into Culworth tomorrow to buy a present for him, though I haven’t any idea what to get.’

  ‘I’ll give you a lift if you like. I always leave by eight-thirty – would that be convenient?’

  ‘Oh yes, it would, then I’ll come back on the bus.’

  ‘Muriel, I do hope you won’t take offence, but have you decided what to wear?’

  ‘That is a problem. I have nothing at all suitable, because I’ve never been to a smart dinner like this. One can’t wear a nice wool dress, one must be a little fancy.’

  ‘Look, I don’t see any point in you spending money on a dress you’ll not get a lot of wear out of. You and I are about the same height, so how about if I lend you one of mine? If I’ve given offence I’m sorry. It was just a suggestion.’

  ‘Not at all. Do you really mean that?’

  ‘Of course I do. Because we’re new here no one’s seen my smart clothes so they will never know. Look, it’s dark outside so we wouldn’t be noticed – why not sneak across now and have a try on?’

  ‘What a splendid idea. Mr Harris won’t mind, will he?’

  ‘Of course not. He’ll be glad to be of help.’

  It was embarrassing for Muriel to be undressing in Caroline and Peter’s bedroom. They’d not got round to decorating it yet, but on the old carpet Caroline had spread a huge off-white rug which felt luxuriously comfortable to Muriel’s stockinged feet. On a chair in the window was Peter’s running kit, and his trainers lay on the floor beneath. Caroline’s nightgown – a peach-coloured silk confection – lay on the bedspread beside Peter’s Paisley pyjamas. It felt almost indecent to see their night-clothes in such close proximity, as if she was peeking into their private life. Out of dear Mr Furbank’s huge old wardrobe came three delightful evening dresses.

  ‘This black one with the bead decoration on the bodice would look good on you, Muriel, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s beautiful. The beadwork is quite splendid but for someone my age, I think the arms would be too bare, don’t you?’

  ‘Ah, but you see there is a long-sleeved jacket to wear over the top for dinner. It’s in the wardrobe somewhere – ah, here we are. Try it on.’

  The beaded dress fitted Muriel exactly. If she’d been to a shop, this would have been the very one she would have bought. When Caroline fastened the tiny georgette bolero over the top she gasped at the change in herself.

  ‘Why, this is wonderful! Do you really mean that I can borrow it? I shall have to do something with my hair.’

  ‘When I’ve worn it before I’ve used this hair ornament to hold my hair back. Look, like this.’

  The black velvet clasp holding her hair smoothly back from her face suited Muriel beautifully. All she needed was to find those black court shoes she’d had since the sixties.

  ‘I’m going to wear this cream thing, I think. Peter loves me in this.’

  Muriel had changed back into her own clothes and stood looking at herself in the long mirror of dear Mr Furbank’s wardrobe. Given half a chance and the money, she might have made something of herself, but it was too late now. The two of them wrapped the dress and jacket in a carrier bag and went downstairs. Peter was on the phone. ‘Yes, certainly I’ll come round. Yes, straight away.’ He hung up and turned to Caroline.

  ‘Darling, that was Suzy Meadows. She wants me to go round. She didn’t go to her mother’s after all. Will you come with me? Sorry, Muriel, good evening. I’m forgetting my manners.’

  ‘I was going to have an early night, Peter.’

  ‘I’ll say good night to you both, and thank you, Caroline, for thinking of this. I’ll be here not one minute later than eight-thirty tomorrow.’ Muriel held the carrier bag up in thanks and swiftly made her way out of the Rectory and home past Willie Biggs’ cottage and St Thomas à Becket, and into her own Glebe Cottage. There she stood with her back to the door for a moment holding the bag up out of Pericles’ way as he jumped and pranced celebrating her return.

  Upstairs she carefully took the dress out of the bag, and laid it on the bed. Her clothes were off in a jiffy and the dress back on again. She tried it first of all without the bolero. There was a small hint of her brassière strap showing white against the black. Dare she wear it without a brassière? Since no one could see her at the moment she tried it without. Her size 34A brassière would not be missed, she thought. Who would know? No one but herself. Dare she? Why not! Lots of girls did nowadays, she’d noticed. The georgette bolero gave the finishing touch. She brushed her hair back and put the black velvet clasp in. She’d buy a little gift for Caroline tomorrow – some of those special Belgian chocolates from that expensive shop in Culworth. She would like that.

  What Caroline didn’t like, was Peter wanting her to go to Suzy’s at this time of night.

  ‘You’ve never asked me to go visiting with you before, darling.’

  ‘We didn’t live in a little village like this before. I want you to be there, in case she needs a sedative or something.’

  ‘It’s not ethical for me to be dishing out drugs to other doctors’ patients, you know that. Anyway, I’ll come.’ She reached up and kissed him on his lips, pushing her tongue against his teeth, enticing him to kiss her properly. He put his arms round her and kissed her as though he wouldn’t be seeing her for a thousand years. His hands gently massaged her back and then slid down and pressed her body to his so that from toe to head she felt welded to him.

  ‘Never forget that whatever might happen, I love you more than life itself. My love is always there for the asking.’

  ‘Peter, I love you too, from now and for ever. I can’t imagine my life without you. Now come on, down to earth if you please.’ Laughingly Caroline pulled herself free and said, ‘We’re only going next door but one. Come on, she’ll be wondering where you are. We’ll finish this conversation in bed when we get back.’

  When Suzy opened her door to them she was hysterical. She flung her arms around Peter, clutching his coat and alternately crying and screaming. Caroline’s matter-of-fact voice in the background saying, ‘Suzy, let us in or all the neighbours will be round,’ brought her head up with a jerk.

  She produced a handkerchief from her sleeve, wiped her eyes and drew back.

  ‘I’m
so sorry.’ This was said more to Caroline than to Peter. ‘I know I’m being ridiculous but the press will not leave us alone. They’ve been pestering my mother, they keep ringing me, they’ve been to the school where I used to teach, they’ve even found out where I went to school and have been asking friends what I was like at school. Nasty suggestive things like, “Was she very interested in boys? Did she have a lot of boyfriends? Did she take drugs?” They’re trying to dig up dirt about me for their articles. I just need someone to consider my feelings. I’m sorry for asking you to come.’ She burst into tears again and sat down with her head almost on her knees.

  Caroline rooted about in the sideboard and found a bottle of brandy.

  ‘What you need, my girl, is some brandy and a good night’s sleep. Here you are – drink it slowly.’ Caroline stood over her while Suzy, protesting, drank each and every drop.

  ‘I don’t want it.’

  ‘Well, it’ll do you good. Now to bed if you please, while you’re feeling warm inside. I’m not going to leave you; I’ll spend the night on the settee.’

  Suzy vehemently shook her head. ‘No, no, I can’t have you do that for me! Please, I shall be all right.’

  Caroline insisted and got her way. She found a pillow and a duvet and arranged them on the settee.

  ‘Be a darling, Peter, and go home and bring me my night things. Or you stay here and I’ll go.’

  ‘No, I’ll go.’

  When he got back Suzy was tucked up in bed and Caroline was reassuring her that she would listen for the children. She peeped into the two bedrooms where the girls slept and wished she had to go the rounds in her own house every night before she went to bed … Peter came back to the house, gave her what he’d brought, kissed her and quietly left.

  When, finally, the body was released for cremation, Suzy was free to put Patrick in the bin as she’d said she would. Caroline tried to persuade her to have the ashes buried at the crematorium, arguing that at the moment she felt that was what she wanted to do, but in later years she might think differently. Suzy disagreed.

  The day the urn came home, she waited until it was dark and the children were in bed, then she put the urn in a Sainsbury’s plastic bag and marched through the village to the beck. She couldn’t quite bring herself to put the ashes in her own bin, so she was going to use the Council bin by the little footbridge. Watching the water flowing by, however, she decided it would be preferable to scatter her husband’s last remains over the surface of Turnham Beck and let them rush away, eventually down to the sea perhaps and out into the world.

  Suzy turned for home, feeling as though a door had been shut on a part of her life. There was nothing to do now but step forward into the next stage. Patrick’s pension would be adequate if she lived carefully, and what with the playgroup and things she would be busy enough. Perhaps one day she might meet someone else whom she could love. But not yet. She needed to live for a while entirely for herself. For a start she’d find someone to babysit for her, perhaps Toria Clark would do it, and she would attend Jimbo’s birthday party. Why not? She’d be a person again wholly unto herself, not having to worry about Patrick causing offence with his withdrawn, offhand manner.

  Chapter 6

  Muriel had wrapped the pen she’d bought for Jimbo, written the card, washed her hair and manicured her nails, using that little manicure set in the leather case she hadn’t bothered with for years. She’d taken a long lingering bath, and Pericles had been turned out in the garden for nearly an hour so he’d be all right till she got back. Her borrowed dress was laid out on the bed, her court shoes were gleaming and now she was putting some perfume on. ‘Panache’ it was called. Not the most expensive, but delightful just the same. A touch behind her ears, a touch on her wrists – well, perhaps more than a touch – and some at her throat. The clock said six-thirty. Oh dear, an hour before she needed to be there. She was ready much too soon.

  Muriel lay on the bed in her underskirt reading this week’s book from the mobile library – A Horseman Riding By. A most enjoyable story; what a lovely young man he was. When her little china clock said seven o’clock Muriel got up, refreshed herself with more Panache, put on her dress, tied the little bolero beneath her now unrestrained bosom, eased on her court shoes, picked up the evening bag she’d used at the annual Young Conservatives’ Dance all those years ago, kissed Pericles on the top of his head and sallied forth to Jimbo’s party.

  She’d done that unforgivable thing, arrived first and too early. Seven-thirty for eight, the invitation had said, and look what she’d done – arrived at twenty-five past seven.

  ‘Come in, Muriel, come in. Delighted to see you!’ Jimbo kissed her warmly on both cheeks. ‘You’re not a customer tonight, you’re a guest so I can call you Muriel and give you a kiss. I must say, you’re looking stunning tonight. Where did you pick up that little number?’ Muriel blushed. ‘You three come here and greet Miss Hipkin.’

  Out of the sitting room popped the boys Fergus and Finlay and then little Flick, all dressed in their best. ‘Daddy, Daddy, can we give Miss Hipkin her sherry?’ Flick asked excitedly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Muriel, they’re not staying up for the dinner, just long enough to welcome everybody and then off to bed. We like our children to be sociable beings and to know how to behave. Yes, you may, gently now.’

  ‘I’m much too early, I am sorry.’

  ‘Not at all, it’s good to see you. Harriet has everything under control. Excuse me while I attend to the wine.’

  The children took Muriel into the sitting room. The boys led her to a chair and Flick brought her a sherry.

  ‘How did you know I like sherry?’

  ‘Daddy said you would. The others will want gin and tonics but he says you belong to the old school and you’d want sherry.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Are you enjoying school?’

  The boys pulled funny faces but Flick said, ‘Oh, yes! Miss Clark is lovely. She’s so funny, she’s always making us laugh. She’s not coming tonight, though. She’s sitting in for Mrs Meadows.’

  ‘Is Mrs Meadows coming, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Mummy said it would do her good to mix a little.’

  ‘How old are you, Flick?’

  ‘Six, why?’

  ‘You seem to know a lot of what goes on.’

  ‘Mummy and Daddy think we should know. Anyway, I listen when I shouldn’t.’

  At that moment, Harriet came in with her mother and mother-in-law.

  ‘Muriel – can I introduce my mother-in-law, Katherine, and of course you know my mother Sadie.’ She took them to shake hands with Muriel and left them talking.

  Katherine settled herself importantly in the chair next to Muriel, leaving Sadie Beauchamp to stand beside her.

  ‘So, Muriel, you’re one of the village people, are you?’

  ‘I live in the village, yes.’

  ‘All this seems rather a bore to me. Jimbo should never have organised this party. I’ve only come because I didn’t want to let him down. He had a great career in a merchant bank, you know, doing famously until he got this idea that he would leave the rat race as he called it and come down here to be a grocer.’

  Muriel felt bold enough to be controversial. Perhaps the sherry had gone to her head and not to her knees as usual.

  ‘I’d hardly call him a grocer. He and Harriet have a very good busines here. They’re doing—’

  Sadie indignantly interrupted: ‘Sometimes, Katherine, you are extremely rude. They are making a great success of this business! I’m here every day, so I should know, and I can also see that Jimbo is in much better health than he was.’

  ‘Allow me to know what is best for my own son.’

  Sadie’s gin and tonic began trembling in her hand. ‘What’s more, the whole atmosphere here is much better for the children. There’s no more of that keeping up with the Algernons and the Arabellas; it’s much better for them at the village school.’

  Katherine snorted and turned her attention
to making Muriel feel small.

  ‘What have you done with your life – Muriel, is it?’

  ‘I was a secretary to a solicitor until I retired. Now I live in Glebe Cottages.’

  ‘I must say, you know how to dress – rather surprising for a village person. Though I don’t suppose you get much chance to wear an ensemble like that. Who is this gorgeously handsome man coming in?’

  Sadie smiled and told her he was the rector.

  ‘The rector? What a perfect waste of a man. He should be in a city parish heading for a bishopric. His wife looks very stylish. I assume it is his wife, and not his mistress. One has to be so broad-minded where the clergy are concerned nowadays.’

  Muriel stood up to welcome Caroline and Peter and introduce them to Jimbo’s mother. Sadie they already knew from church. Muriel took this opportunity to escape and spend some time with Suzy, who had just arrived with Michael Palmer. Suzy was wearing a bright scarlet skin-tight dress which revealed more than it concealed. Muriel felt it was hardly suitable for a new widow. Which indeed Suzy knew it wasn’t, but she was in a defiant mood. Mustn’t cast a cloud over the festivities: Jimbo had a right to enjoy his party.

  Harriet gently guided everyone into the dining room, so the children reluctantly went off to bed while the adults settled themselves at the table. How Harriet had ever found the time to lay the table, let alone provide all the wonderful food, Muriel could not understand. The table had been spread with a delicate pink cloth, down the centre of which were small glass candle-holders, each containing a pink candle gently illuminating small pink and white flower arrangements – just the right height not to obscure the face of the person sitting opposite you. There were three crystal wine glasses at each place setting, and a pink linen napkin arranged in the shape of a swan. The hors d’oeuvre were already in place. She knew Sadie came every day to help, but even that couldn’t explain how all this food had been cooked to such perfection.