‘Did you have a bad childhood, then?’
Those thin lips of his snapped shut, tight. Kate watched him debating, saw him dithering on the brink of a revelation, then decide he couldn’t speak out. ‘Of course not. Best of childhoods. Even if I hadn’t I’d have taken responsibility like I said and got on with life.’
Holding her arms wide, Kate said, ‘Craddock, my dear.’ He came across to her, put the log book on a side table and sat beside her on the sofa. She held him in her arms like she did the children when they were deeply distressed. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want me to know. We don’t have to know everything about each other in order to love one another.’
Craddock squeezed her tightly. ‘We don’t. But we should, and one day . . .’ He drew back from her and looked at her intently. ‘Are there things you haven’t told me?’
‘Yes, but a bad childhood isn’t one of them.’
‘What then?’
She kissed him instead of answering, and the moment passed.
After a while he asked her if she wanted a drink before going to bed.
‘Vodka and tonic, please.’
He roused himself from the sofa, looked down at her still holding his hand and said, ‘Best day’s work I ever did marrying you. I hope you feel the same?’
Kate nodded. ‘I do. I’ve got the best of everything. Career I can’t live without, beautiful home, a husband whom I love very much. What more can a woman ask?’
‘Nothing.’ As he poured her vodka he asked, ‘Will you sack Mrs Dobbs?’
‘Absolutely not. It’s for me to make it so she can’t get at confidential files. Even though she speaks her mind too often, she’s too good to lose as a cleaner.’
‘I hope she appreciates your goodwill. Here you are.’
‘Thanks.’ Kate sipped her vodka and added, ‘There’s so much goodwill for the school among the villagers. Evie Nicholls has promised to come in to make an embroidered banner with my class, which puts them in touch with a skill I couldn’t even begin to impart. Also, Muriel’s coming in twice a week to play for the Maypole dancing practice, did you know?’
‘No, I didn’t. I’m very fond of Muriel. Wouldn’t hurt her if I could possibly help it. She’s a rare spirit, always full to the brim with kindness.’
‘She was a bit sharp with me about the Bliss children. If she only knew . . .’
‘What?’
Kate said, ‘Well, I’ve a very good idea they are the school thieves. Ten pounds today from Margaret’s handbag. She found out after the buses had gone. But don’t say a word outside this room, please.’
‘I shan’t.’ He raised his glass to her and asked, ‘Kate, am I making you happy?’ He looked hesitantly at her as though he desperately wanted an affirmative answer, but hardly dared hope it would be.
She smiled the same sweet smile as when she’d been thinking about him earlier in the day. ‘Blissfully. More than I had ever dared hope.’
‘Good. Me too.’
Chapter 5
On the Monday morning Kate found herself reading a letter from Mrs Bliss, which she wished she hadn’t received. As she read it her face creased with disappointment, for it told her that Mrs Bliss and her little Blisses were pleased for the offer of free uniforms but regrettably were unable to accept charity. The children had discussed it with her and agreed that accepting her offer was quite out of the question, but they thanked her for her kindness.
When she went to take prayers Kate saw it was only too true. Although they looked cleaner than usual, they were still wearing the dreadful clothes they’d worn since they came. It really was exasperating. On the other hand she couldn’t help feeling admiration for them, although the children may have agreed simply because they didn’t want to upset their mother. Still, such pride! Free school lunches appeared to be having an effect, however, because they were looking rather healthier than when they’d first arrived. But as they stood to sing their first hymn, the Bliss children were only too obviously outsiders. What on earth had happened in their lives to bring this about? The letter had been written in an educated hand, so it was clear that they were not accustomed to such poverty. A job for Mrs Bliss! That was what was needed. Perhaps at the school so she could be at home in the school holidays. But what?
At lunchtime Kate was on playground duty and was busy taking netball practice with some girls in her class when she spied Mrs Bliss coming through the school gate. ‘Karen! You’re in charge. I won’t be a moment. Play fair.’
Mrs Bliss sidled rather than walked into school, followed by Kate. ‘Mrs Bliss! Come into my office.’ She led the way and seated herself behind her desk, inviting Mrs Bliss to take a chair.
‘It’s your lunch hour, but I didn’t see how I could get a chance to talk to you otherwise.’
‘Not at all. I don’t mind.’
Mrs Bliss’s thin hand dipped into her pocket and came out clutching a ten-pound note which she laid on the desk. ‘Una came home with this on Friday. I apologize. I’ve explained to her she shouldn’t and she’s sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too. But I’m grateful that you’ve come to explain. We’ve had small amounts of money missing before, but the ten pounds was making the matter very grave.’
‘It was my birthday on Saturday and she wanted so much to give me a present.’ Her head went down and Kate thought she heard a sob escape. Her thin hands were twisting and turning on her lap, obviously in an agony of despair. They were gloveless and blue with the cold.
‘I’m so very sorry you’re in such dire straits. Why won’t you let the school help you? Give the children some pride in . . . Sorry, that was the wrong word to use. But they must feel so different from everyone else with no uniform. They are the only ones without. Surely a helping hand can’t be wrong in your circumstances?’
Mrs Bliss’s head came up. ‘My circumstances are my affair. The children have a home, and a mother. They’re all four of them bright and they’ll all make their way in the world without charity, thank you all the same. I don’t know what punishment you’ll hand out, but she understands you will think it necessary. Thank you for your time. I’m sorry Una did it, very sorry.’
Mrs Bliss stood up, gave Kate one last long look and departed. But despite the show of dignity, Kate had noticed her lips trembling and her voice shaking as she spoke. Damn and blast, thought Kate, what can one do in the face of such pride?
Hetty Hardaker took Kate’s class and her own for singing first thing on Monday afternoons, so Kate asked to see Una in her office while she had the chance. She was deliberately eating a biscuit when Una came in and she offered her one.
Kate waited until the child had stuffed it into her mouth and was sitting there looking remarkably like a hamster. Una had her mother’s dark brown eyes and the same sweet mouth and thin, wispy brown hair. There was a poise and beauty about her though, which her downtrodden mother lacked.
‘Well, Una, about this ten-pound note.’
Una’s eyes shifted away from Kate’s face.
‘You know it was wrong, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where did you get it from?’
‘Miss Booth’s purse.’
‘I thought so. But it was Miss Booth’s, wasn’t it, not yours?’
‘I know.’
‘So tell me how you felt when you opened her purse and took it out.’
Una thought about the question and then answered in a most adult way. ‘I needed the money for Mummy’s birthday. We all did, and we’d no pocket money and I thought it would be a good idea. Miss Booth is so kind, you see, I guessed she wouldn’t mind.’
‘Well, I like your thoughtfulness, and the way you love your mummy enough to steal for her, but it wasn’t right, was it?’
‘No. But—’
‘Yes?’
‘We’d no money, and like I said, Miss Booth is so kind I was sure she wouldn’t mind.’ It clearly seemed logical to Una. They’d no money. The situation was desperate so she did som
ething about it, and Miss Booth was so kind, she wouldn’t mind. Which Miss Booth was. Kind to the point of insanity sometimes.
‘It is never right to take money or anything belonging to someone else. It’s the same in the Store, isn’t it?’
Una hung her head, appalled that Kate appeared to be all-seeing-all-knowing. How had she found out about the chocolate? The smooth, rich, tasty feeling of the chocolate on her tongue and the enjoyment she’d experienced as it slid down her throat came back to Una, and she remembered how she’d enjoyed cleansing her teeth with her tongue to rid them of the cloying texture when she’d finished. And somehow, she couldn’t feel guilty. ‘We needed it. Mummy was cross when she found out, but it was too late as we’d eaten it on the bus.’
Kate recognized the yearning in Una’s face and in her heart couldn’t be angry. ‘Well, Una, taking things must stop. It isn’t right and it makes Mummy feel upset and you wouldn’t want that. She’s brought me the ten-pound note, I’m giving it back to Miss Booth and we shan’t say another thing about it. Right?’
‘Right.’ Her eyes were on the biscuit tin, and Kate couldn’t refuse her.
‘Would you like another biscuit? Eat it here, because I haven’t enough for all your class.’
Una took the biscuit she was offered with a polite thank you and then proceeded to stuff the whole thing in her mouth as though it might run away half-eaten if she didn’t. Kate recognized need, not greed, in her actions. Poor child! Her arms and legs were so thin, more like sticks, whereas at the age of five she should still have the slight chubbiness of the very young. How unfair life was. How frustrating not being able to help.
Una slid off the chair as soon as the last crumb had gone down. ‘Thank you, Mrs Fitch.’
‘Thank you, Una. Bye-bye.’
Kate put on the kettle for tea for Miss Booth and Hetty Hardaker, and thought about who she could ask for help. Caroline! Yes! The rector’s wife had two children who’d always had plenty of clothes and possibly still had some school uniforms in a cupboard somewhere . . . Yes, that was it. Straight after school. She’d pop round.
Kate was delighted when Caroline answered the Rectory door.
‘I’ve come for some help.’
‘Come in, Kate. How nice to see you. We’ll go in the kitchen if you don’t mind – I’m just in the middle of things. Sylvia doesn’t come on Mondays any more so I fend for myself.’
Kate seated herself at the kitchen table while Caroline cleared the worktops of dishes and bowls.
‘Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, perhaps?’
Kate shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ve had enough tea today to float a battleship. No, I’ve come about the Bliss children. You might not have heard but they’ve moved into Little Derehams, you know, into Simone Paradise’s old house.’ Kate felt a certain amount of embarrassment as old memories surfaced and she noticed the flash of anger on Caroline’s face. ‘Well, anyway, they are extremely poor. I’ve volunteered to pay for them to have uniform out of my fictitious discretionary fund but the mother has refused. Doesn’t want charity.’
Caroline came to sit at the table opposite Kate. ‘I see, so how can I help?’
‘Well, I thought that she might take help from the Rector’s wife and village doctor instead. Do you have any uniform or clothes of any kind belonging to the twins, which might do for the Blisses? Things they’ve outgrown, you know.’
‘Very possibly. They’ve kept their uniforms since they left, for sentiment’s sake, but perhaps if there was a worthy cause . . .’
‘I’d be so grateful, and you’re so tactful she’d probably accept it from you. And as the twins have left, it wouldn’t matter if the Bliss children were wearing their clothes, would it?’
‘I suppose not. You say she’s living in Simone’s old house? The last time I passed there it looked as though it was falling apart.’
‘It is. Stood empty ever since—’
‘Since Simone died. Yes. Then they must be poor. I’ll look some things out and talk to the children about whether or not they want to keep their uniforms.’
Kate stood up. ‘I’ll leave it with you, then.’
‘You may.’
When she’d seen Kate out of the house Caroline went into the sitting room and stood at the window, watching Kate get into her car. She recollected how she’d hated Kate, who had started up the black magic trouble when she’d first come to the village, and for a moment her heart bled for the loss of poor old Mimi, her beloved Siamese, who had been sacrificed to appease the devil, or some such misguided kind of an idea. How hard it had been to like Kate after that! She still felt a frisson of distaste whenever she saw her, but that mustn’t get in the way of helping the Bliss children. Caroline glanced at the clock and saw that the children would be home in about half an hour, and her heart lifted.
Overnight it seemed they had grown up. They had bags for their school books now, and Beth had insisted on having her beautiful long platinum blonde hair cropped so that it now fell neatly into a short bob. As for Alex, he’d always been older than his years and took on knowledge like a sponge soaking up water. Beth didn’t make it quite so obvious but she too absorbed everything she heard with a deep, silent concentration.
How she loved them. Caroline went to put the kettle on. It wasn’t milk and a biscuit they wanted now when they came home from school, but tea and a slice of toast. That seemed to be the most significant indication to Caroline that they were growing up.
In the loft were endless boxes of things she had kept, even their smallest bootees and sleeping suits. God! How small they’d been when they first arrived. What patience she’d needed, what energy, how she’d longed for a full night’s sleep!
She heard Alex’s key in the door. She knew it was him because he did it with such precision, whereas Beth had to fiddle about for a moment getting the key in the slot properly.
They burst in through the door, flung their belongings on to the hall floor and arrived in the kitchen in a flurry.
‘I’d forgotten it was Monday and you’d be home.’ Beth flung her arms around Caroline as though she hadn’t seen her for at least a month. Caroline hugged her and then glanced over Beth’s head towards Alex and gave him a grin. He smiled back, Peter’s smile all over again. His devoted love shone from his eyes quietly, but nonetheless, just as powerfully as Beth’s.
‘Tea? Need I ask?’
When they’d drunk their tea and eaten their toast and peanut butter, she asked, ‘Can I have a word before you disappear?’
They both nodded.
‘Kate has a family of children at school, just started, and they are very poor, so poor their mother can’t buy uniform or weekend clothes for them. I wondered, would you mind if I gave them a load of clothes you’ve grown out of?’
‘I don’t mind, but not our baby things. I’m keeping those for babies of mine.’ Beth, now no longer able to swing her legs as she sat on the kitchen chair, spoke vehemently. ‘They’re not having those. Why are they so poor?’
‘I’m not sure, but there seems to be no daddy around—’
‘He’s left them. How could he?’ This from Alex who always found desertion by parents a hard thing to understand.
‘Maybe he died.’
Alex thought about that for a moment and then answered, ‘Maybe. You can give them anything of mine.’
‘Thank you, Alex. And you, Beth?’
‘Same here, but not my baby things.’
‘They don’t need baby things as they’re all at school. Don’t panic.’
‘Oh well, that’s all right then. But they’ll need our old uniforms, won’t they?’
Caroline nodded.
‘OK then. We can’t ever wear them again; we’re much too big now.’
And indeed they were. As they got off their chairs and by chance stood side by side, Caroline saw how Alex had shot up and was taller than Beth, but she had lost her chubbiness and was beginning to look almost adolescent. It wouldn’t be long be
fore she’d have two teenagers in the house. Help! ‘Daddy has a meeting tonight so we’re being prompt with our meal. OK?’
‘OK!’
The two of them retrieved their school bags from the hall floor and disappeared up the stairs, chattering about their homework. Just before they reached the top step, Beth called out, ‘What are their names?’
‘Their surname is Bliss, but I don’t know their first names.’
Caroline heard an explosion of laughter. ‘Bliss? Huh! What a name.’
The following day, having spent part of the morning in the loft sorting out clothes for the Bliss children, Caroline set off after lunch with her car boot stuffed with everything she could find. Some things she’d particularly loved she didn’t include, those cornflower-blue shorts of Beth’s with the T-shirt Willie and Sylvia had bought her, or the red shorts and red-and-white T-shirt Alex had worn every single day one summer and she’d had to wash and dry them overnight so he wouldn’t get upset.
Pulling up outside Simone Paradise’s old cottage brought back memories of the last time she’d been there. From where she sat in her car she could almost smell the unkempt cottage as it had been that night when they’d found Simone’s children alone in there, brutally orphaned.
Bracing herself, Caroline got out of the car and headed for the back door. She gave a sharp rat-tat on the door with her knuckles because the knocker was too filthy to touch. Slowly, footsteps approached the door. A bolt was shot back and the door opened just enough for her to see a thin, haggard face with large brown eyes, deep in their sockets, staring at her.
‘Mrs Bliss?’
Nod.
‘I’m the Rector’s wife, Caroline Harris. I’ve come to visit. May I come in?’
Nod.
The door was eased back and Caroline went in. It seemed as though no time had passed since she’d been here that dreadful night all those years ago. The same shambolic poverty and neglect, the same unkempt smell, the same terrible need for a complete refurbishment and refurnishing. Surely that wasn’t the same sofa from which one of Simone’s children had arisen like a ghost when they’d forced entry into the cottage that terrible night? Caroline shuddered. God in heaven! What a ghastly mess.
Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) Page 7