Felburgh

by Ivan B

  “I’ll get your tea,” Lucy said, “and then it’s off to bed – no arguments.” She then went to the kitchen.

  Peter made sure Lucy was out of earshot.

  “Two things. Firstly, check your bag of pound coins that they don’t all have the same date, my bag of coins were forgeries.”

  Mark waved a hand dismissively.

  “Too late, I’ve already given them to the Salvation Army.”

  Peter rolled his eyes.

  “And would you be my best man?”

  Mark sat bolt upright.

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  Mark gave a slow smile.

  “Of course. I mean I’d love to. When’s the wedding?”

  “Just under four week’s time.”

  Mark gave him a peculiar look.

  “Not hanging about are we?”

  Peter laughed.

  “Jo says that she can see no point in waiting and frankly neither can I.”

  Peter paused.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  Mark nodded.

  “Who’s doing the wedding, the Bishop or Jane?”

  “Neither, I’ve asked Charmian to officiate.”

  Mark pondered this fact.

  “I’m surprised, but flattered, that you’ve asked me, I thought that you’d ask the Major.”

  Peter grinned from ear to ear and shook his head, “No chance. And can you imagine a speech by George? He’d bore us to death.”

  Again Mark sat bolt upright.

  “Speech! O crickey. A speech!”

  Peter left Mark and Lucy’s and drove to Jo’s, arriving dead on eight o’ clock. Jo let him in, “Cutting it fine aren’t we? I know I said dinner would be at eight, but I thought you might come just a little bit earlier!”

  He gave her a kiss.

  “Sorry, it’s been a peculiar day, everybody I meet wants to give me their life story.”

  “Do you find it wears you down?”

  Peter held her in his arms.

  “No I find it a privilege and other people’s lives always seem more interesting than mine. At least they did until I met you.”

  Jo untangled herself from his arms and went over to the galley kitchen.

  “Where’s Danielle?”

  Jo inspected the small oven.

  “You don’t want to know. She’s over at Louise’s; their plotting murals.”

  She glanced at Peter.

  “Don’t worry she is due any moment now, so we’ll have our chaperone.”

  The rest of the evening was spent eating and talking. The more time he spent with them the more Peter realized how much he loved Jo, but he also became acutely aware how little he understood of teenage culture. It seemed that Jo had to explain to Peter virtually every other phrase of Danielle’s. However, he supposed that it is never too late to increase one’s vocabulary.

  Chapter 20

  Knots

  Peter had been told by many wedding couples that the run up to their wedding seemed to fly by; one moment it was weeks away, the next it was upon them. He had imagined that this was pure fantasy, but he found that it had in it a grain of truth. The days did indeed seem to fly by. The decorators came and went; the carpets and curtains all miraculously appeared; as did a new three piece suite and a dining table, complete with its attendant chairs; and, from somewhere, a double bed that was hard on one side and soft on the other. Fortunately for Peter it was the summer and the church life at St Nathaniel’s, like most churches, seemed to pause to take breath. The Monday before the climactic day Peter was contemplating his list of things to do. Fortunately most of them he had done. The St Cedd Benevolent Fund had been closed, but not without a minor drama. Peter had found the same bored bank clerk who had opened the account and passed across a mandate signed by all three of them to close the account. However, they had forgotten the small matter of interest and the account still had some £1800 in it. Peter had hit upon a simple solution he asked the clerk which charity he would give it to. The man had answered “Cathod, for their work in Cambodia.” Peter duly signed a cheque and gave it to him to pass on; he called it the man’s interest on his initial penny deposit when they opened the account. Peter was quite certain that the clerk thought he was as mad as a hatter, but he took the cheque all the same. Peter had also managed to dispose of the £2 coins; they now lay safely at the bottom of the local reservoir. However, Peter still had two items on his list. He still had to buy a wedding present for Jo and he was still trying to help Celine untangle Cameron’s deceitful web. Inspector Hamilton’s words had proved to be prophetic; Cameron had committed bigamy when marrying Celine and the mortgage company was repossessing the house. To add insult to injury Celine had also discovered that their joint account was virtually empty, and that her personal savings account had been drained without her knowledge. Her solicitor doubted that she would have any successful redress against Cameron without a long and costly argument; she had already given the idea up as lost. On the positive side Wendy, Marjorie and Lucy had been wonderful; without their support, and that of other church members, Peter doubted that Celine would have coped. Peter had tried to get a small cottage on the Felburgh estate for Celine and the children, but Freddy was, to say the least, unhelpful. Finally Harriet and Bunty had badgered the council into renting them one the old barrack houses. It was not a perfect solution, but at least it was a roof over their heads. Peter sighed inwardly; he felt totally powerless; all he could really do was put them at the top of his prayer list.

  One of the things he hadn’t expected to have to do was to get a passport, but Jo had told him that the honeymoon was to be abroad and he would need his passport; she had been very surprised to find that he did not have a current one. So Peter had earmarked most of the Monday for a trip to the Peterborough Passport Office and back. Time was so short that he dare not trust the post; he also had Jo’s passport to change over to her intended married name; Peter had not realized that this could be done in advance, but the procedure was simple. Peter was just about to walk out of the door when the phone rang. It was a warden from Ramsey Prison saying that Cameron had requested a visit from him; the warden was apologetic but said that Peter had only two days to undertake to visit as Cameron was being moved to Carlisle Prison on Wednesday. Peter was surprised to find out that Ramsey Prison was just outside Peterborough, so he said he would visit later in the day. The warden had insisted upon a time and they agreed on four o’clock. As he put the phone down Peter was totally mystified. Cameron had refused visit from all and sundry, including his family, so what could he possibly want with Peter?

  Peter drove to the Passport office and was pleasantly surprised at how easy the whole passport process was and within an hour of his arrival he was browsing round one of the malls in Peterborough shopping centre. Really, he was looking for inspiration for Jo’s wedding present. He had ruled out jewelry, briefly considered a posh handbag, thought about a leather jacket, but basically got nowhere. The Passport Office had been so efficient that Peter had nearly two hours to kill, but even after nearly an hour he had gotten nowhere. He sat in a coffee area in the middle of the mall and thought; in the end he decided that he needed advice, he phoned Danielle. Danielle answered the phone very rapidly, it only rang once.

  “Hi Danielle, its Peter here.”

  Danielle replied, “Oh, Hi Peter.” Peter wasn’t sure, but she sounded disappointed.

  “Danielle, I need your advice; is your mum with you?”

  “No, she’s at work.”

  “Right, here’s my problem. I want to get Jo something nice as a wedding present, but I am totally out of ideas. Have you any suggestions?”

  There was a pause.

  “What’s it worth?” Said with a slight giggle.

  “Depends what your fee is.”

  “Mum is uncertain about me having my navel pierced. The good news is that she hasn’t said no, but she hasn’t said yes either. I think she might talk it over with you.”

&nb
sp; “And the price for a good suggestion is support for your navel enterprise?”

  “Well you suggested it to me in the first place and it is such a good idea.”

  “No promises, but I won’t be against it.”

  There was a silence for a moment.

  “Mum used to have a gold cross on a chain; she wore it all the time.

  About a year ago she lost it at the school fête, she was dreadfully upset, and I think Auntie Margaret gave it to her soon after she came out of hospital.”

  “How big was it?”

  Danielle laughed.

  “It was a simple cross with the edges slightly rounded, I guess it was about two and a half centimeters high and on standard chain about sixty centimeters long. Don’t, whatever you do, go for a crucifix; she has one of them, it was her mother’s, and never wears it.”

  “Thanks, Danielle, I hope he rings.”

  Danielle said in her best pseudo-offended voice, “I wasn’t waiting for him to ring-.” And then stopped midsentence.

  Peter laughed. “Bye.”

  It took Peter less than half an hour to find what he wanted. Later Peter arrived at HM Prison Ramsey and was shown into a bare visiting block. There was a large room with several tables, each one having chairs on opposite sides. The room was about half full of visitors and Peter chose a table at the edge of the room and waited. After about ten minutes Cameron was shown in; he sat at a table in the middle of the room, forcing Peter to move. As Peter sat down he surveyed Cameron; he had lost an awful lot of weight, possibly as much as fifteen kilograms and his normally jet black hair was now a mousy brown.

  Cameron mumbled his thanks. Peter replied, somewhat frostily, “why did you want me to come? It should be Celine you’re asking to see?”

  He grimaced and shook his head.

  “No point, no point whatsoever.”

  Peter could not help himself.

  “Don’t you care what you have done to her?”

  “Frankly, no,” he replied.

  Peter had nothing to say in return. Cameron then gave a furtive glance towards the warder, who was standing at the room’s entrance.

  “But I might be able to help them with your help.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Cameron gave another furtive glance.

  “I knew I would have to run for it sometime or other so I set aside a couple of nest eggs just in case. There’s one that’s too risky for me to get to now so you might as well give the money to Celine, but it’s not for her it’s for the kids.”

  Peter stayed silent. Cameron pressed on, anxious to impart information to Peter before visiting ended.

  “Your pulpit has a hollow base; you’ve probably noticed the little screwed down hatch in its floor. Lying in the bottom of the base is an old biscuit tin, there’s some money in there, give it to the kids.”

  Peter shook his head.

  “I’ll give it to Celine and indirectly it will benefit the kids, but if I can’t give it to her, I’ll give it to Inspector Hamilton.”

  Cameron laughed.

  “Its not dirty money, I made it legit. From buying and selling shares.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Cameron scowled.

  “Then give the damn money to Celine, but there’s one condition.”

  “I might not do conditions.” Said Peter somewhat frostily.

  Cameron ignored him.

  “I don’t want her knowing the money came from me. She’ll blab about it and then I’ll have that ruddy sergeant crawling all over me again.”

  “Why me?”

  Cameron replied, with a malevolent grin.

  “Because I can trust you. Some of the others I know might just run off with the money.”

  Peter grew suspicious.

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Enough to get them out of immediate trouble.”

  Peter decided to push his luck.

  “You said nest eggs,” emphasizing the plural, “where are the other eggs?”

  Cameron grinned.

  “You just worry about the one I told you of, I’ll worry about the others.”

  Suddenly a bell rang. Cameron stood up.

  “Thanks for coming, don’t call again,” he said brusquely and walked away.

  It was Tuesday morning before Peter could inspect the pulpit unobserved. Monday evening, being choir practice night, had been out of the question. Peter carefully unscrewed the hatch in the floor of his pulpit and peered inside. The hatch had obviously been placed there during the installation of the sound system for there was a junction in the microphone cable that ran under the hatch. The base of the pulpit below the cable seemed to be filled with the sort of wood-chips that you get from a garden centre. Peter had a root about in them and found the old biscuit tin. He hauled it out, taking care not to snag the microphone cable. Peter then had another root about in the wood-chips for he was sure that he had felt something else lying next to the biscuit tin. He had, it was an old mousetrap. Peter then replaced the hatch and screwed it down; he then carried the tin back to his house, remembering on the way that it was a Tuesday so Jo might appear, but he doubted it, after all it was the week leading up to her wedding. Once inside Peter examined the tin, but it was so rusty that he had no idea what sort of biscuits it had once contained. The lid had been sealed with Selotape and Peter cut round the lid with his penknife and lifted it off. He tipped out the contents, which were not quite as Cameron had implied. There was some money: £575 in mixed notes and $13,000 in $100 dollar bills plus a small plastic money bag with £18.80 in various mixed coinage. However there was also a false passport in the name of John Dunne with attendant driving license and an identity card showing that Mr. Dunne worked for the Gas Board. Peter leant back in his chair, as he had feared Cameron was not being purely altruistic, the price for Celine to have the money was for Peter to destroy the false papers. Peter sat and thought, he guessed that the false papers could lead back to the forger, who in turn could inform the police of other forged papers; Cameron had after all said that there was more than one nest-egg. In the end Peter was swayed by the money. He fed the false passport and paper part of the driving license through his shredder and cut up the cards. He then placed the shredded paper and the plastic fragments in the bottom of his dustbin bin-bag under some putrid leftovers. Peter then went to see his usual bank clerk, who by now was not so bored whenever Peter arrived. Peter sat down and gave what he hoped was a friendly smile.

  “I know that I have closed the St Cedd Benevolent fund, but I have had a late donation in US Dollars, please could you exchange them into Sterling for me?”

  The clerk smiledback.

  “Actually the account is not yet closed as I’m still waiting for the Cathod cheque to clear. Would you prefer to pay the money into the account and write out a cheque? I still have the cheque-book in my bottom drawer just in case Cathod have lost the original.”

  Peter was more than happy to do this. In the end, by adding a little bit of the Sterling he had a cheque for £9,000 made out to Celine. He then went round to see her. She was still in her old house, but packing up to move. Peter noticed that she had sold some of her larger pieces of furniture, including her piano. To Peter she seemed to have aged ten years and looked worn out. Celine took Peter into the garden where there were two old deck chairs by the pond. After a few pleasantries Peter handed her an envelope.

  “There are a number of charities who I have been approaching on your behalf,” he said with a clear conscience as in fact this part of his spiel was true. “This one, the St Cedd Benevolent Society has come up trumps. They only give one-off payments so I can’t approach them again, in any case I think that the charity is to be wound up soon.”

  Celine opened the envelope and burst into tears.

  “Peter I can’t possibly… So much money…”

  Peter said, “Use it wisely.”

  She nodded .

  “I’ve been so worried about the child
ren and their future; I’ll use this to ensure that they don’t suffer too much.”

  Peter replied.

  “It’s for all of you, use some for yourself.”

  She peered in the envelope.

  “Why the cash?”

  “Thought you might need some instant money while you were waiting for the cheque to clear.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “Who do I write to? I mean I must thank them and let them know.”

  She burst into tears again.

  “No-one,” replied Peter. “I’ll let them know how thankful you are.”

  They were then joined by Lucy and Wendy and Celine showed them the cheque. Lucy looked at the cheque and then at Peter, she walked over to him and said quietly.

  “This St Cedd Benevolent Society seems to have been throwing their money around lately; they’ve just funded an Internet café at the Seafarer’s Centre.”

  Peter replied carefully.

  “It won’t last; their just allocating some funds from generous benefactors; I’m led to believe that the fund will run out of money soon and be wound up.”

  Lucy gave Peter the peculiar look again.

  “That’s almost exactly what Mark said. If I didn’t know better I’d say you two were up to something.”

  Peter had no answer.

  Peter arrived home lunchtime to find Jo in the kitchen heating up some soup; on seeing Peter she emptied another can into the saucepan.

  “How’s the house coming on?” he asked as he went up behind her and kissed her hair.

  She looked at Peter and then concentrated on the soup.

  “I can’t believe the house is so large, it just seems to swallow everything; and this kitchen; I’m never going to fill all these cupboards!”

  Peter smiled.

  “Give it time, give it time. Nature abhors a vacuum and I’m sure you’ll spread out to fill all the available space.”

  Jo just snorted.

  “I have a message for you from someone called Jennifer. She said that she’s finished clearing out the undergrowth and has found something really interesting. Apparently she’s going to be in the churchyard all afternoon.”