Sidney Chambers and The Dangers of Temptation

by James Runcie

  ‘She could have pretended to lose it in order to hang on to it? I don’t think you know my mother.’

  ‘And you didn’t mind the favouritism?’

  ‘They gave me a coral teardrop for my twenty-first. It was supposed to set off my hair. I hated it because, as you may remember from when we first met, I am prone to spots. It looked like a skin complaint. I couldn’t exchange it fast enough.’

  Malcolm interrupted to get out a gallant ‘you have perfect skin, my darling’ but Helena was having none of it. ‘Happiness certainly improves it; but this whole business with my sister is still going to bring me out in a rash.’

  Sidney resumed his inquisition. ‘And do you know what Olivia was doing before she discovered that she had lost the necklace?’

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Would you like to tell me?’

  ‘I think she was having a bit of fun.’

  Malcolm elucidated. ‘Doing what students do in May Week.’

  ‘With a boyfriend?’

  ‘Alexander,’ said Helena. ‘The one that wasn’t trampled.’

  ‘You mean that the victim of the stampede was also her boyfriend?’

  ‘I think she had a bit of history with him too. You know what it’s like these days. one man is never enough for some people. Good vibrations and all that!’

  ‘And so could the necklace have been pulled off in a moment of passion? It may have fallen where they lay.’

  ‘I’ve already asked. They say they went back to the spot to look for it. It was far enough from the cows not to have been trampled by them. They were down by the river. In a dingly dell. Olivia called it their very own hobbit-hole. I’ve always hated Tolkien. But, anyway, they went back and necklace was there none.’

  ‘And you don’t suppose her boyfriend could have pocketed it in the ensuing chaos?’

  ‘I suppose he could have done. You’ll have to ask him. I’ve told Olivia that you’ll sort it out if Geordie can’t.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that.’

  ‘I’ve given you a very good write-up. And you know Mummy is a good friend of Henry Richmond?’

  ‘I thought you were trying to keep your mother out of this?’

  ‘I am but if she does get to hear of it, and you were unable to help us, then you wouldn’t want Amanda finding out that you are mortal after all, would you?’

  ‘Amanda is well aware of my failings, as am I.’

  ‘Don’t let us down, Sidney. We’re relying on you.’

  ‘But if it wasn’t the boyfriend then it could have been anyone. And the Meadows are vast.’

  ‘Who knows them better than you? You could take Byron. Didn’t he find some kind of axe last time he was here?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘Lightning seldom strikes twice in the same place, Helena.’

  ‘It does where you’re concerned, Sidney. You’re our very own conductor, attracting heat wherever you stand.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’

  ‘Yes you do. You positively crackle with electricity.’

  ‘I rather think you and Malcolm are the ones with the electricity,’ said Sidney.

  ‘Not if her mother’s got anything to do with it,’ his former curate replied.

  It seemed appropriate to their conversation that the next time Sidney found himself in Grantchester he was caught in a storm and forced to take shelter by the willow trees in Long Meadow. It arrived more quickly than anticipated, the Cambridge-blue sky overrun by dark clouds and then merging to form a whitish grey, before the rain fell and sounded like an orchestra tuning up; the smither turning into a gulching hail in under a minute, a burst of Beethoven before a slow diminuendo into a shatter that lasted far longer than Sidney thought it would; almost an hour.

  Sheltering close by was a tall young man with long hair, dressed in a lacy shirt and velvet and brocade flares that had been bought from the fashionable London store Granny Takes a Trip. He was carrying a small microphone attached to a Grundig tape recorder. After he had hit the stop button he nodded; indicating that he was ready for conversation.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting the rain,’ he said. ‘But I like the sound. I’ve been here for days.’

  ‘Making recordings?’

  ‘I want to use nature musically; to see what silence is really like.’

  ‘I imagine there’s no such thing.’

  ‘Even when everything stops there’s still the sound of the water, the drone of hoverflies, a lark or a distant dog barking. I’m Roger.’

  He held out a hand. Sidney took it and introduced himself, explaining that he used to be the Vicar of Grantchester.

  ‘You haven’t stopped, though? You’re still a clergyman. You haven’t been defrocked or anything like that?’

  ‘Not so far. I came back to see one of my parishioners. The farmer with the cows.’

  ‘The ones that attacked the students?’

  ‘Were you here at the time?’

  ‘I was the other side of the river,’ said Roger. ‘One of the girls came to talk to me. She wanted to know if I was spying on them.’

  ‘How did she get across?’

  ‘She stopped a punt. I was a bit scared of her at first. But she was all right when I told her I was in a band. That’s why I was doing the recording. It got much better after that. I even started to like her. She said she preferred jazz. I quite admired that. It’s not the kind of thing many people admit to. I told her she should have been born fifty years ago.’

  ‘What was the girl wearing?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘That’s kind of weird too. She was dressed as if it was the 1920s.’

  ‘Any jewellery?’

  ‘A silver band, I think. And something in her hair.’

  ‘Nothing blue?’

  ‘No, she wore green. She looked like she belonged in the trees. I told her that. Some people have an aura to them. Hers was clover green. She laughed when I said so. She had a nice smile. I’ve been thinking about laughter quite a lot; how we each have our own. You can be recognised or given away by enjoying yourself. It’s strange, don’t you think?’

  ‘Do you say this because the students were laughing?’

  ‘I suppose so. They were mucking about with the cows. I’m not surprised the animals got fed up.’

  ‘Did you see what happened?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘It was quite far away. The green girl had gone by then. She said she’d had enough of them. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but I think she came back later, on the other side of the river. Perhaps she’d forgotten something. I don’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t help when you saw the cows?’

  ‘I was over here and there was the water between us. Besides, there were loads of them. And it looked dangerous enough without me adding to the situation. The cows wanted to kill the student that got into trouble. It was a job to get him out. I don’t think any of them were medical students. They were probably too pissed anyway. But then this woman with a dog came along. She knew what she was doing. I think she must be something to do with the farm . . .’

  ‘So you definitely saw the attack? The student couldn’t have been injured by anything other than the cows?’

  ‘You mean he might have been attacked first, left lying on the ground and then the cows did the rest? I don’t think so. You’ve got a strange mind for a vicar.’

  ‘It’s not my only job, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I didn’t realise times were that hard. But it must be difficult when your faith’s going out of fashion.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Sidney replied quickly. ‘I can explain. But, in the meantime, you didn’t by any chance see another couple, by the river’s edge?’

  ‘I didn’t look too closely but there was plenty of what my friend Emo calls ummagumma going on.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Sex. I think that’s why the girl came over. She must have thought I was some kind of pervert watching
them. I’m not, by the way.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not.’

  ‘So I didn’t see much. And I didn’t record any of the kerfuffle. It was people shouting and I didn’t want that. As I said, I like natural sound, stuff we don’t always notice that just carries on no matter what’s happening.’

  ‘The flow of the world.’

  ‘That kind of thing.’

  The rain had eased off, but an after-drop fell on Roger’s forehead and he wiped it away. ‘It’s hard to see the river unseen beneath the trees, don’t you think?’ he asked. ‘But when you do, it’s like laughter. Perhaps it’s laughing at us?’

  After this somewhat disorientating encounter, Sidney tried to call in on Alexander Farley in his rooms at Corpus. A neighbour on the staircase said that he had gone to London with Olivia Randall and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. This was odd in May Week, with the summer holidays so close, and it turned out to be misinformation. In fact the couple had gone to Ely, having been dispatched by an impatient Helena and were waiting for Sidney on his return. A bemused Hildegard had told them to have a look round the cathedral, visit Cromwell’s house and come back for lemonade and biscuits once she had finished her piano teaching.

  Olivia was a tall young woman, bigger-boned than her sister, and appeared to have a slight stoop from trying to make herself look smaller. She was wearing a sleeveless mini tent dress in fused stripes of shocking-pink and orange; while Alexander had a floppy-collared floral shirt and white cotton flares.

  Olivia told Sidney that she thought the farmer must have taken the necklace during the clear-up. ‘He was so annoyed about the cows perhaps he assumed it was his reward.’

  ‘I’m not sure Harding Redmond’s the kind of man who would do that sort of thing.’

  ‘Why not?’ Alexander asked. ‘He could have given it to his daughter.’

  ‘I suppose that’s possible, but I imagine both of them had more important concerns. I’m sure they would have seen to the victim and then worried about their cows. They wouldn’t have had time to consider the necklace unless it was right in front of them. Did it take long for the ambulance to come?’

  ‘About twenty minutes,’ Olivia replied. ‘It was horrible. We thought Richard was going to die. The cows were determined to kill him. They kept pushing each other as if they all wanted a try at stamping on him and they were butting him with their enormous heads. Alex ran to the phone box, but one of the villagers stopped him and said that she had already called for help.’

  ‘It was like a rugby scrum,’ said Alexander, ‘and Richard was the ball. The cows kept turning him over and over. The farmer’s daughter saved him. She swore about how irresponsible we were and how lucky we were that more of us weren’t killed and that we had no right to be on the Meadows.’

  ‘She’s wrong about that,’ said Sidney.

  ‘I never know why some of the people who live here hate students so much.’

  Olivia was looking for something in her net bag. ‘It’s so unfair. It was only a party.’

  ‘Not for the farmer or his daughter,’ Sidney pointed out. ‘How long did everyone stay?’

  ‘Once Richard was taken to the ambulance everyone left. It was definitely over after that. We couldn’t really go on.’

  ‘And who went to the hospital to see Richard?’

  Olivia started on a roll-up. ‘I think Emily might have gone.’

  ‘Emily?’

  ‘She’s in love with him.’

  ‘I see. And is Richard in love with her?’

  There was a silence as the roll-up was completed and shared between the two students. ‘No,’ said Alexander. ‘He’s in love with Olivia.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Most people are.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Olivia replied while sounding as if she hoped it was.

  Sidney tried to stick to the matter in hand. ‘When did you notice your necklace was missing?’

  ‘She didn’t,’ Alexander answered. ‘I did.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘When we went back to get our stuff. We were going to pick up our things that we’d left by the river and then go on to the hospital, but we realised the necklace had disappeared and we had to find it. We looked around, retraced our steps. It could have fallen off, but if it had, we would have found it. Someone must have taken it when we were dozing.’

  Sidney wanted to see what Olivia had to say. ‘Are you sure you had the necklace on when you fell asleep?’

  Alexander spoke for her. ‘Oh, definitely. I remember.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘It was between her breasts.’

  ‘So when you woke it was gone?’

  Olivia tried to explain that she couldn’t recall what had happened at the crucial moment. ‘Everyone was screaming because of the cows. I put on my blouse, I can remember doing that, but I must have left my bra behind. I’m not really sure. It was all a bit mad, to be honest.’

  ‘So you think your necklace was gone when you woke up?’

  ‘It had to be.’

  ‘Before all the drama with the cows?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And so you think it was stolen as you both slept? Was there any redness on your neck?’

  ‘From it being yanked off? I don’t think so.’

  ‘So,’ Sidney continued, ‘if it was taken when you were asleep then it must have been someone who knew how the clasp worked.’

  ‘That means it was probably a woman.’

  ‘And could that have been your friend Emily?’

  ‘She was the other side of the river. And she had already gone off once she realised that we wanted to be alone.’

  ‘And do you know where she went?’

  ‘Further downriver. There was a man there, making recordings. She wanted to see what he was doing. She thought he looked a bit spooky.’

  ‘And is Emily a close friend?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t think she’d take my necklace if that is what you are suggesting.’

  ‘Then who would?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why we think it must have been the farmer or his daughter.’

  Sidney had had enough of this. ‘I think I know Harding Redmond well enough to be sure that he wouldn’t approach a sleeping student and take a necklace from her naked breasts.’

  ‘His daughter might,’ said Alexander.

  ‘I understand she was nowhere near the Meadows and only arrived in time to help with the rescue.’

  ‘But no one knows what happened afterwards.’

  ‘As I have already said, I imagine Abigail had enough to do setting the cows right.’

  Olivia had another suggestion. ‘Perhaps the man doing the recordings stole it?’

  ‘I thought you said he was the other side of the river?’

  ‘He could have swum across.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘Because he saw the necklace lying on the ground?’

  ‘Even though you were sure it was taken from your neck?’

  ‘I can’t be positive.’

  ‘In any case, it was too far away for him to see anything lying in the undergrowth across the river.’

  ‘Unless he had binoculars.’

  ‘I think you’re clutching at straws,’ said Sidney.

  He was becoming increasingly irritable. Could these people not remember anything? How had they ever been able to pass an exam?

  ‘I don’t know how criminals do these things,’ Olivia replied.

  Sidney said that he would talk to Harding and Abigail Redmond once more. It was also important he spoke to Emily Hastings.

  ‘She’s at Newnham. It’s a girls’ college.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Sidney. ‘The principal is a friend of mine.’

  ‘Emily’s quite an eccentric,’ said Alexander. ‘She makes her own clothes; dresses as a 1920s flapper. I think her father might even be a vicar.’

  Things were looking up. ‘Then I’m su
re she’ll tell me the truth,’ said Sidney. ‘If she can remember it.’

  Before visiting Newnham, Sidney decided to go to Addenbrooke’s Hospital in order to find out how Richard Lane was recovering from the stampede. Perhaps he might be able to provide a clearer account of what had happened on the Meadows.

  On arrival, the hospital chaplain told him the boy’s parents had just left and that it had been a job to pacify them. ‘I’m afraid they want compensation.’

  ‘I suppose you can’t really blame them. How is the patient?’

  ‘He’ll live. It was a stupid thing to do; not that he’s taking any responsibility. Students hardly ever do. Lane comes from a family that can’t ever accept that anything might be their fault. There always has to be someone to blame. It’s something of a Cambridge disease, I find.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s one we should try to cure.’

  ‘They’re only just allowing visitors. The boy’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. I’m not sure if he can cope with two clergymen. He’ll think he’s still delirious.’

  ‘It’ll be a novelty for him,’ Sidney replied. ‘Perhaps he can find a way to blame us for something.’

  ‘Unhappiness at school. Sunday boredom. Unrealistic expectations . . .’

  ‘Omnipotence and the problem of evil; a loving God who allows accidents to afflict the innocent . . .’

  ‘We’ll be ready.’

  Richard Lane was propped up in bed. The covers were damp because he was on so much morphine that he kept blacking out between picking up a beaker of water and trying to drink it. A nurse patted down the sheets and told Sidney he could have five minutes.

  Once the explanations had been made, Richard told them what he could remember.

  ‘Once I realised what was happening it was too late. The cows were charging at me and I had no time to get away. I felt this thump against the side of my back when the first one hit me. I stumbled and thought I could stagger on but then I was hit again from the opposite side and fell over. They began to head-butt me. They were right on top, blocking the light from the sky. I cried out for help but I knew it was hopeless. There were so many animals. I tried to protect my head and rolled up into a ball but they kept butting me and trying to kneel down on me, wanting to get me to uncurl. In the end, I thought that if I gave up the struggle and pretended I was already dead they would stop. But I didn’t have time to do that because there was then this enormous weight on my back and shoulder. One of them must have knelt right on top of me. It was trying to crush me to death. I must have passed out. That’s all I remember, apart from thinking that it was the most humiliating way to die.’