Listening to the Quiet

by Listening to the Quiet (retail) (epub)

  The next period passed smoothly except for Arnold’s constant fidgeting and mutterings. Gillian kept nudging Mavis Best and giggling. Jo moved the twins to the desk nearest hers, and while teaching on prehistoric times, she stood over them. They wrote and drew as diligently as the rest of the class, but before allowing them home for dinner, she warned them that the next time they misbehaved she would be calling on their parents.

  Eleanor Lidgey was expecting her, but first Jo intended to cross over the road.

  ‘You are heading in the wrong direction, Miss Venner,’ Marcus said from behind her on the road.

  Not knowing he was there, she nearly missed her footing. Facing him, she began, ‘I’m going—’

  ‘I know where you are going and I forbid it.’ He loomed over her, his hands clasped behind his back.

  ‘I shall only be a moment then I will be joining Mrs Lidgey.’

  ‘That is not the point. I will not allow you to single out any child as a special case. It’s not fair on the other children and will create ill feelings among them and their parents. Molly Vigus has many problems, and if you show too much regard for her it will inevitably lead to more teasing.’

  Jo was livid with his decision. Surely he did not expect her to take no more action over Molly’s predicament. ‘But Molly may be there alone.’

  ‘She is not. When the girl returned, she informed me Luke Vigus was there. Molly was safely delivered home, she is his responsibility now.’

  ‘I’ll go after school is finished.’ Jo turned on her heel and headed for the schoolhouse.

  Marcus walked beside her. ‘It’s a great pity you have become emotionally involved with two of your pupils. If you cannot treat Rex and Molly as you would the other children you are not going to give your best to the school. You do see this?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered tartly, uncomfortably acknowledging he was speaking the truth. She would not have rushed off to another child’s home.

  When they were in the hall of the schoolhouse, he continued, ‘You must distance yourself from the Viguses.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She would not. ‘Marylyn is just a baby. I care deeply for her.’

  ‘You must. As the mother is of no use, I have sent a note to Luke Vigus, asking him to call on me to discuss Rex and Molly’s problems. You have admirably played your part in bringing the children back to school. Now I’m asking you to keep your association with the family out of school hours.’

  Jo’s face worked in sheer disquiet. If she was to teach successfully in Parmarth, to be able to look for the right moment to approach Marcus Lidgey with her own ideas for the girls’ education, such as their receiving science lessons, she must abide by his request. She conceded by dropping her eyes and joining Eleanor in the dining room. He followed her in.

  ‘I’ll pour your tea, Miss Venner,’ he said in a soft, warm voice, to please his mother.

  Jo was annoyed at this sudden pleasantness.

  Marcus was, in fact, in torment again. Sickened with himself for raping Sally, he had apologised, appeased her by giving her five pounds to buy new clothes, blamed his nightmare for unnerving him and making him behave like a mindless savage.

  He must leave Sally alone. It was not fair to keep taking advantage of her while what she really wanted was a settled future. He had been grateful to have a woman with strong sexual needs readily available, but Sally was beginning to annoy him. She had brought him to breaking pitch and he had been violent towards her. He feared what he might be capable of in the future. This had made it hard for him to face Joanna Venner this morning.

  He found her more appealing each time he saw her. He admired and respected her. She was a sensitive, accomplished teacher. He’d studied her devotion to her pupils, not above comforting a muddy, fallen child in the playground against her body. He ached to have her. But how could he treat her like a trollop, introduce her to acts beyond the comprehension of her intelligence and decency? He could not bear to think he might contaminate her. If he had acted kindly over Molly Vigus’s tribulation, and she had been grateful to him, he’d feared he might have done something to compromise their growing friendship, something to revile her.

  He had never had such fears before. What was happening to him? Sometimes he was afraid he was going mad. But he was charged with the task of manipulating her into caring for him. If she succumbed to him he knew he would not be able to resist her. She would be immeasurably sweet in the taking, and he was terrified he’d sink into the squalor of his unnatural desires.

  He ran his fingers despairingly through his hair. If only he could make up his mind what to do. Before he really did go mad.

  His mother smiled at Jo with faked charm. ‘Joanna, don’t you think it’s time you and Marcus were on first-name terms? You should become friends. And it’s time you dined with us again. Isn’t it, darling? Marcus.’

  Her tones cut through his mind, shredding him, destroying his last scrap of peace. ‘Um, yes, Mama.’ Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Somehow he must find a way and the strength and courage to carry it through.

  During a period in which her pupils read individually to her, Jo’s attention kept wandering to listen to Marcus’s voice expounding a geography lesson on South Africa. One moment his intonation was soft, then it boomed, became muffled, then distinct. One moment he was jocular with his class, then he was snapping at the pupils. Jo frowned. Was he ill? He had displayed a change of moods today with startling rapidity.

  The middle class joined the upper class for a session of the school orchestra. Marcus decided which child should play each percussion instrument. As part of their punishment, Arnold and Rex were denied participation and were made to stand in a different corner, facing the wall of the upper classroom. It was an effort for Jo not to cast sympathetic glances at Rex.

  Jo was to perform on the harmonium. She had not played it before and needed to practise. The children tittered, and Marcus scolded them harshly over her first failed attempts to perform ‘Early One Morning’. She felt utterly embarrassed at her clumsiness in the presence of a musical craftsman. She could sense the headmaster’s displeasure as he hovered over her and pressed the right key.

  Jo could not doubt the quality of his teaching. When she had conquered the harmonium, the children relaxed and there was a sense of them being eager to please him. He conducted them until he was satisfied they had reached a good pitch and rhythm. Then he played the cello, accompanied in the string section by Jane Lawry, Susan Wherry and Adam Moore who, thanks to Celia’s donation, each played a three-quarter-size violin; Marcus was giving them free after-school lessons. Norman Pascoe played his father’s trumpet passably well. Jo was heartened by the music lessons the children were receiving from the headmaster, which, like the boys’ science lessons, were not usual in many primary schools.

  Jo sneaked glances at Marcus. The tension in his dark face was fading. It seemed the music was reaching him deep within.

  When the school day was over, Jo wished she had not promised Eleanor she would return to discuss the lady’s spring wardrobe. She wanted to see how Molly was, to talk to Luke about her. To add to her frustration, the vicar was there, newly arrived back in Parmarth from his speaking engagements at a training seminar at a Dorset overseas mission.

  The Reverend Silas Mountebank, a bachelor in his late fifties, whom she had met at her interview, explained he was asked occasionally to give lectures on his missionary work in the Philippines. He seemed, strangely, a little shy of her, as he looked down over a pair of half-spectacles. His dark suit and thinning white hair were both of a severe cut. Eleanor had told Jo beforehand that he was a man who cherished peace and quiet, and quickly became harassed when things did not run smoothly. If he had witnessed the wilder side of her nature, Jo mused, perhaps he would have selected another of the candidates to teach in the school.

  He finished his tea hastily. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I really do have to see to my greenhouse and then I have a meeting with t
he churchwardens. Please do tell Mr Lidgey I shall be at the school for final prayers on Friday afternoon.’

  ‘We won’t see much of him,’ Eleanor said, after he had gone. ‘He prefers to be in his garden.’

  Marcus stayed on at the school to take a forty-five-minute music lesson. Arriving home, he raised his eyebrows at seeing Jo ensconced in the sitting room with Eleanor. They were looking at ladies’ clothing catalogues.

  ‘Joanna is kindly helping me choose something new, Marcus, dear,’ Eleanor said smoothly. ‘I’ve explained I can’t afford to dress in the style I’m accustomed to but I couldn’t possibly call on the local seamstress. Far too provincial.’

  ‘Of course,’ Jo agreed. ‘Miss Sayce used to send away for her clothes.’

  Marcus avoided his mother’s eyes. ‘It’s very good of you, Miss Venner.’ After a sharp intake of breath from Eleanor, he ventured, ‘Joanna.’

  ‘She’s going to be a treasure to us, isn’t she, Marcus? Why don’t you stay and eat with us, Joanna, dear,’ Eleanor crooned.

  Marcus sighed inwardly. The music had relaxed him and he would prefer to spend time with Joanna alone. She had smiled at him just prior to leaving the school, forgiving him for his earlier curtness, and he did not want his mother’s overbearing presence to spoil things before he had the chance to make amends properly.

  Jo saw the tenseness snagging again at Marcus’s features. She enjoyed his and Eleanor’s company, yet the more she came here the more she was finding the atmosphere bleak and confining. ‘Thank you, Eleanor, but Mercy is expecting me. Actually, it is time I was going.’

  ‘Another time,’ Marcus said graciously. ‘I’ll show you to the door.’

  Having seen Jo out, he had intended to slip away to his study, but first he faced up to Eleanor. ‘There’s no point looking at those catalogues. We can’t afford new clothes.’

  ‘We shall when you’ve succeeded in the task I’ve set you. And not rubbish like this.’

  ‘You’ll just have to sell your jewellery.’

  ‘I will never do that. It’s all I have left of my old way of life.’

  Marcus was suddenly angry. ‘Why should I put things right? If you were normal, you’d get yourself a wealthy lover.’

  Eleanor threw the catalogues at him.

  * * *

  Jo went straightaway to the Viguses. Luke was alone, preparing to leave Parmarth. He took her immediately into his closest embrace.

  ‘I’m sorry about Molly’s distress today, Luke. I felt so helpless when I couldn’t comfort her.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Jo,’ he said, kissing her, caressing her. ‘There’s no need for you to worry about the kids. Mrs Wherry’s agreed to take Molly in with Marylyn till she’s well enough to go back to school. I took her to the doctor’s this afternoon; he said she’s got an infection. He’s given her some medicine. She’s tucked up in bed right now. Rex is amusing her with some puppets I got ’em. Marylyn’s already looking better now she’s fed regularly, getting some attention. Before I leave, I’ll tell all this to that damned headmaster. Should satisfy him.’

  ‘If people really knew you they would see you are a good man, Luke.’

  Folding her in closer to him, he murmured against her lips, ‘I’m glad I met you. I’m going to miss you when I’m gone.’

  It was foolish of her to stay here alone with him, risking gossip, her position at the school, but she could not tear herself away. She ran her fingers over his face, burning his image into her mind for the lonely days ahead without him. ‘Hurry back.’

  All was quiet, they would not be disturbed. It was a long time before Jo slipped away from the tiny cottage.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jo dismissed her class but asked Kenneth Willis to stay behind.

  Standing wanly at the side of her desk, Kenneth shivered in almost threadbare clothes, although neatly patched. ‘Please, Miss Venner, I’ve got to get off home. My dad’ll be waiting for me.’

  ‘I will not keep you long, Kenneth,’ Jo said kindly, noticing the shadows under his eyes were more pronounced. His skin was stretched and pallid. He smelled as if he had not washed for days. ‘But first I want to talk to you about your falling asleep in class. It won’t do, you know. If it continues, I’ll have to mention it to Mr Lidgey and speak to your father about it.’

  ‘No, don’t do that, miss.’ Kenneth’s chin wobbled as he fought to keep tears in check. ‘I promise not to fall asleep tomorrow.’

  ‘If you come to school tomorrow. You did not attend Monday or yesterday. I’ve been told you accompanied your father in combing the beaches downcoast, following the sinking of the cargo ship which foundered off Cape Cornwall at the weekend. Is this true?’

  Hanging his head, Kenneth nodded feebly. He stifled a sob. Jo knew his need to weep came not from fear or despair but utter exhaustion.

  Taking the boy’s hand, Jo continued probing gently. ‘And you walked there and back, in the rain and sleet, sleeping rough at some stage.’

  Kenneth nodded again.

  ‘Has your father got work for you to do after school today?’

  He nodded once more, pathetic, defeated.

  ‘What is it you will have to do?’

  ‘Gather kindling, feed the pig, cook the supper. Other things.’ Kenneth yanked his hand free and started to head for the cloakroom door. ‘My dad’s not a horrible man. He’s got no regular work, that’s the trouble. I’ve got no mum, see? We make do the best we can.’ He was nearly shouting now.

  ‘I know that, Kenneth.’ Jo rose and caught up with him. Mercy had filled her in on the facts concerning Joel Willis and his only child. Joel Willis did not drink or gamble or waste the money he earned. He was a proud man, determined to pay his own way, would never accept charity. The father and son were very close. It was Joel Willis’s needlework on Kenneth’s jumper and short trousers. ‘But while I respect all that your father does, he has a responsibility to send you to school every day, fit and well, able to learn your lessons. I’m sure he would understand if I was to have a word with him and I’m sure you would welcome a little more rest. Wait there, please, Kenneth, while I write a note for you to take home to him.’

  Like a fidgety colt, Kenneth restrained himself and stayed by the door. She knew he would rather spend his days working with his father than attend school.

  Turning to her desk, Jo saw Miss Teague had entered her side of the partition. Hatted and coated, umbrella in kid-gloved hand, the infants’ teacher dropped her eyes, but Jo had the notion she would like to make an arid comment about the latter part of her conversation with Kenneth. The cloakroom door was opened and banged shut and Jo was too late to prevent Kenneth running home.

  ‘It’s a sad story.’ Miss Teague primly rerolled her umbrella. ‘But I’m sure you’ve been told about Clarrie Willis’s tragic death, three years ago from tuberculosis.’

  Jo was becoming increasingly annoyed about Miss Teague’s thinly disguised antipathetic remarks in regard to every aspect of her life. Cowardly darts of contempt had been aimed at her lodging at the farm, her friendship with Celia, the poor attendance at Celia’s funeral, Jo’s ‘posh’ voice, her almost daily cups of tea with Eleanor Lidgey. A reference had been made to Bob Merrick’s ‘lady-love’, and comments about the length of Jo’s visits in the Vigus cottage when Luke was at home.

  Jo had not expected Miss Teague to welcome her without misgivings. She had been informed, courtesy of village gossips, of Miss Teague’s disappointment over Miss Martin, late of St Mevan’s school, not securing the post she held. But Jo had tolerated enough.

  ‘I’ll speak to Kenneth tomorrow, if he’s present. Tell me, Miss Teague, would you approach the problem of his sleeping in class in a different manner to me?’ She strode purposefully towards her colleague.

  ‘Well, I…’ but Miss Teague could not come up with a contrary statement this time. ‘No. You have every right to speak to Kenneth’s father.’

  ‘You resent me coming here, don’t you
, Miss Teague?’

  ‘Why should I feel that way?’ Miss Teague coloured awkwardly.

  Eleanor was right. The woman was a mouse, afraid of a direct attack; she was sly, underhanded. Jo gathered up her personal things from her desk but kept a constant gaze on the other teacher. ‘Gossip works both ways, you know, Miss Teague. It circulates particularly in the sweet and tobacco shop.’

  ‘Oh, I did happen to mention… I’m sorry. I thought you unsuitable for the post here, but, yes, you have the right to reprimand me, Miss Venner. I should not have judged you prior to your starting work.’ Miss Teague’s tone became ingratiating. ‘You have made good progress with your class already, most notably in the way you’ve tackled the Viguses over the children’s living conditions. I don’t know what you said, but whatever it was it seems to have worked.’

  ‘What I said is, no doubt, the source of much speculation. I hope my effort will prove successful and we’ll actually see both Rex and Molly regularly in school. I would like us to work in mutual respect, Miss Teague,’ Jo continued seriously. ‘You know more about the village and the children than I probably ever shall. I would like to learn from you.’

  ‘You would?’ The charitable corner of Miss Teague’s heart was given an airing. Perhaps the advantaged Joanna Venner, rebel of her social class, actually did intend to inspire the children here.

  She came forward, smiling pleasantly. ‘Do take my hand. I shall be very pleased to be of service to you in any way I can, Miss Venner.’

  Jo smiled into Miss Teague’s dull eyes as they exchanged a polite salute, but she would never fully trust her.

  The wind was growing ever wilder and sleet was once more consorting with the freezing rain. Wearing his heavy overcoat and trilby hat, Marcus was supervising the children leaving the school gates. A huge umbrella pulled down close over his head, he was absorbed in another planned escape from his mother – one he would never make.