‘No. That would be fine, Connie,’ Tom broke in. ‘I’m sure Evangeline would far rather sit with you than...’ Tom’s gaze drifted towards the Jennings’ family gathering where Maude Jennings was already joining in the chorus of the song.
Looking away in disgust, Evangeline followed Connie to the opposite end of the hall. If she was expecting to see Max sitting with the guests then she was very much mistaken. Summoned to the kitchen, Max was helping George with a barrel of beer.
‘Good lord! Have you seen what Evangeline is wearing?’ George whispered loudly. ‘You know, I never thought I’d ever see her wearing jeans. Dressed like that, she’s certainly entered into the spirit of things!’
‘Spirit of things is right.’ Bunty acknowledged, entering the kitchen. ‘When she bent and kissed me, I could have sworn I smelt brandy on her breath.’
‘Shh, Bunty,’ Alison warned. ‘Someone might hear you.’
Bunty looked about her, first at Max and George, and then at Connie and Alison. ‘Well, all of us here know what Evangeline’s like for a little tipple.’
‘Nevertheless, I don’t think you should discuss it now.’
‘OK. Point taken, Alison. So let’s discuss instead when we’re going to have the quiz and take a look at all those wonderful, old photos you’ve gathered together.’
‘I still think we should stick to the original plan and have the quiz after the harvest supper. That way the food will have time to settle, the band can have a break before the country dancing and those wishing to study the photos, can do so without fear of being sent flying by an eightsome reel.’ And I, thought Alison to herself, can sneak away to the sanctuary of the kitchen and thus avoid the dancing all together. She hadn’t forgotten that Max had threatened to come and drag her away to the dance floor.
‘Speaking of things original,’ Max teased, ‘I have to say the first question on the village quiz is hardly original. Why, I remember that one from when I was a boy. Anyone who doesn’t know, "ecclesiastical bales amongst the trees" is Church Haywood, should be...’
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport, Max,’ Connie replied. ‘You forget we have newcomers in the village, who’ve never been to one of our harvest suppers before.’
Duly chastised, Max smiled and winked at Alison.
‘And, speaking of when you were a boy, Max Craven,’ Connie continued. ‘You’re in for a big surprise. By all accounts Maude Jennings wants to have a word with you about all the naughty tricks you used to play when you were still in short trousers! Brace yourself; you could be in for an embarrassing evening.’
While Alison was trying to imagine what the tall and immaculate, yet casually dressed Max Craven would have looked like as a little boy, in short trousers with grubby knees, and Max himself was busy thinking back to his youth, Evangeline was planning a surprise of her own. Unbeknown to everyone on that balmy late September night, Connie had never spoken a truer word. They were all in for an embarrassing evening.
Chapter 14
‘You always were such a mischievous little boy,’ Maude Jennings chortled in Max’s direction. ‘Why I remember when...’
‘Now Gran,’ broke in a voice, ‘I’m sure Mr Craven doesn’t want to hear any more. He’s been sitting with you for at least twenty minutes. You must let him go back to his family.’
Maude Jennings looked puzzled. From what she could remember Max hadn’t got a family any more. His wife - an outsider – to whom Maude had taken an instant dislike, had been killed in that fire and his dear, sweet daughter… Maude began to tremble.
Deep concern etched upon Max’s face. ‘Maude? Are you feeling unwell or cold? It looks as if someone’s opened a window. Shall I see if I can fetch you a rug… or maybe we can borrow Rosie’s serape?’
Maude shook her head and reached for Max’s hands with her bony, twisted fingers. ‘No’, she said, forcing a weak smile. ‘You leave our Rosie with her stirrup or whatever it is you call it. Did you know she even wears it to bed!’ Maude bent in Max’s direction, still clinging on to his hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘I’m not ill. I was just thinking about the day your little girl was killed. I still have nightmares about it and I’m sure poor Alison Webb - only she isn’t Alison Webb any more, is she? - must have nightmares about it too.’
Max looked up incredulous. ‘I didn’t know you were there when it happened. They told me there were no other witnesses. They said only the driver of the car...’
‘Oh, I wasn’t there, but I saw it all the same.’
‘Then why didn’t you say? Why weren’t you at the inquest?’
‘The family thought it would do no good. I’d broke my hip you see, so I was in bed...’
‘But if you were in bed, how could you see? I don’t understand.’
Sensing Max’s air of frustration, Maude gave his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘They’d put my bed by the window and I was all propped up on pillows and the like - I got bored not being able to see anything - so there I was looking out of the window, when I saw the two girls running across the field.’
‘Go on,’ Max urged kindly.
‘At first I thought they were playing tag, but when they got nearer I heard Alison calling to your Tara. Alison was telling her to stop.’ Maude’s eyes filled with tears. ‘No, not telling her to stop, pleading with her to stop. Begging her in fact. It’s funny, I remember it all so clearly but the family said it was probably my tablets...’
‘What do you remember so clearly, Maude?’ Max cast a furtive glance in the direction of the Jennings family. Please God, they didn’t come over now and interrupt this conversation. He must find out what had happened.
With a puzzled look, Maude cocked her head to one side in bewilderment. ‘Now where was I?’
‘You were saying... Alison was begging Tara to stop.’
‘Oh, yes. So I was. Well, there they were running across the field, Alison calling out ‘stop’ and Tara taking not a bit of notice. It was only when Alison - you know she suffered something terrible with her asthma - nearly caught up with your little girl that she stumbled and fell…’
Panic rose in Max’s breast. ‘What happened when Alison fell? Can you remember Maude, did you see?’
For a moment it was as if Maude wasn’t in the village hall at all. It was ten years ago and she was back in her old bedroom propped up in bed. Outside skylarks were singing on the wing, the sun was shining in glorious blue skies, and Tara and Alison were running across a meadow full of daisies. They even had daisy chains in their hair.
‘Yes… I saw it all. Alison fell over and for a minute, Tara stopped too. I even thought she was going to go back and help Alison up - but she didn’t. Instead she looked back to where they’d just run from. It was almost as if she was frightened of something or someone. Then, she just turned and ran towards the road. When the car came round the bend and down the hill, she ran straight out in front of it.’
Maude searched in the sleeve of her cardigan for a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Tara saw that car coming, Max, she must have known she didn’t stand a chance. When I remember how Alison made a last desperate struggle to reach her, only for the same car to swerve and pin her against the wall… It’s a wonder that Alison ever walked again.’ Maude shook her head and wiped again at her eyes. ‘
Turning to check on his mother, Harry Jennings caught sight of Max’s ashen face. Fearing the worst, he decided it was time to intervene. ‘Now Mum,’ he said, moving her wheel chair to one side. As I said before, it’s about time we let Mr Craven get back to his sister and family. Feeling suddenly weary, Maude conceded and allowed herself to be wheeled away.
Watching her go, Max heard her remark, ‘Having a sister and brother-in-law’s not what I call family. Family is like what we’ve got!’ Suddenly fed up with her dentures, Maude removed them, wrapped them in the recently used handkerchief and surveyed her sons, daughters, grandchildren and great grandchildren with a beaming, toothless grin.
Delighted to see Max fr
ee at last, Rosie threw her serape across her shoulders and in a blur of camel stripes and beige fringing, flung herself against his knees. ‘Now that silly band has stopped playing,’ she begged, ‘are you goin’ to dance with Al’son?’
Stunned by Maude’s disclosure, Max gazed with unseeing eyes at Rosie’s face radiating pure innocence and joy. Alison! He must find Alison. To think how he’d blamed her for Tara’s death when all the time..
‘If the band’s stopped playing, there won’t be any dancing,’ Max replied.
‘Course there will, ‘cos me brother’s doin’ the disco. They’ve asked him to play what he calls Golden Oldies, ‘cos there are so many old people here tonight. What shall I get him to play... Blur, Oasis, Spice Girls?’
Surprised when she got no reply, Rosie studied Max’s face. Usually it was what she called a ‘smiley face.’ At least it was when she was in his company. Tonight, seeing him look so sad, she determined to do something about it.
‘Look,’ she said, grabbing Max’s hand, ‘you go and find Al’son, and I’ll get me brother to play you something nice. Yeah!’ she added brightly remembering seeing her brothers and their girlfriends at family discos, ‘Something slo...’ Rosie refrained from saying ‘sloppy’ and added ‘slow’ instead. ‘Mmm, yes, that’s it! Something slow ‘cos of Al’son’s leg.’
*
Max felt the now familiar lump rise in his throat. Alison’s leg. Even Rosie was concerned about Alison’s leg. Yet a few months ago, coming across her in the churchyard, after ten long, lonely years, he’d felt not concern and sympathy for Alison, but hatred and contempt. Leaving Rosie to find her brother, Max was desperate to find Alison.
She was alone in the kitchen when he entered and for a while he watched in silence as she emptied the remains of the harvest supper into shiny, black bin bags. Sensing his presence, Alison turned warily.
‘I’m sorry,’ Max said softly, ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘I think you said something like that once before. In the churchyard, the day of my mother’s funeral. Remember?’
Max faltered. ‘How could I forget? About that day, Alison, I’m afraid I was very rude to you. I thought…’
‘I know what you thought Max and...’
‘And I was wrong,’ Max interrupted as he moved cautiously towards her. ‘I’ve just been told what really happened on the day of the accident.’
‘You’ve been what! But no one else was there except me and Tara.’
‘Maude Jennings told me. She saw it all from her bedroom window. She saw you running after Tara. Heard you begging her to stop. She also thought you and Tara were running away from someone or something. Were you?’
Alison gasped and dropped the bag she was holding, scattering paper plates and the remains of rice salad across the floor. Grabbing a handful of kitchen roll, she knelt down to scoop up the debris.
‘Alison!’ Max was on his knees beside her. ‘Please, you must tell me! Is that what happened? Was Maude telling the truth?’
Alison said nothing and only stared down at her lap. Having discarded the kitchen roll, she nervously fingered the sash of her wraparound skirt. One end was in her hand, the other she realized to her alarm, was beneath Max’s knee. She was quite unable to move.
Max rubbed a hand across his face. ‘It’s all right,’ he said eventually, ‘you don’t have to say anything at all. In fact, by saying nothing, you’ve only convinced me Maude was telling the truth.’
‘I...’ Alison began, but she got no further. The door burst open and a miniature Clint Eastwood called out. ‘Come on, Max, if you’re goin’ to dance with Al’son. Me brother’s found a sloppy record.’
Ignoring her slip of the tongue, Rosie watched Max help Alison to her feet and lead her towards the door. ‘I think it’s called "United",’ she said with a puzzled frown, ‘and he said it’s by Peaches and Herb... though we always have custard with peaches. And why they’re singing about a football team, Gawd only knows, as Great-gran would say!’
For a brief moment, forgetting the seriousness of their earlier conversation, Max and Alison burst out laughing and to Rosie’s utter delight, Max reached for Alison’s hand, put his arm round her waist and led her gently to the dance floor. There the strains of ‘Reunited’ were just beginning to play.
‘There’s something I need to know,’ Max urged, softly in Alison’s ear. ‘What was it you and Tara were running away from that day?’
Sensing her every muscle go taut within his grasp, Max almost feared she was going to try and run away. ‘No! Forget I asked that. Please stay. Perhaps you can tell me later? We mustn’t let it spoil this part of the evening.’
Meant more as a request than a question, Alison knew he would ask her the same thing over and over again, until he finally got his answer. For the moment, however, she allowed herself to relax, delighting in every minute spent in Max’s arms.
Oblivious to onlookers and holding her close, Max breathed in the delicate sweet fragrance of Alison’s perfume and felt her newly shampooed hair brush against his cheeks. After a while he chuckled softly. Alison looked up, startled. ‘Sorry, did I tread on your foot?’
‘No, I was just laughing at Rosie thinking the song was about a football team. ‘Reunited’ - that’s quite ironic,’ Max murmured, drawing her close once more. ‘I suppose we are in a way… because of Tara.’
It was at this point, Evangeline chose to re-enter the hall. She’d been making numerous visits to the ladies’ cloakroom ever since she’d arrived. Only now did Tom suspect what was in the handbag Evangeline clutched so desperately to her bosom, every time she left the room. It could only be a bottle!
Evangeline froze. In the dimly hit hall, Max Craven was holding Alison in his arms. He was also whispering in her ear and appeared totally unaware of anyone else in the room. Registering anger and jealousy, Evangeline’s fingers tightened on her handbag. This time there was no point in hurrying back to the cloakroom. The half-bottle of brandy was finished. The evidence discarded behind the incinerator.
Tom reached out for Evangeline’s arm and, finding her curiously unresisting, drew her into a chair by his side. His wife’s flushed appearance proved what he’d already suspected. If Evangeline wasn’t yet drunk, she was certainly well on the way.
Drumming her nails on the table, Evangeline looked anxiously for her glass. ‘Oh dear, I must have finished my drink. Can you get me another glass of that disgusting wine, Tom?’
‘I think it’s orange juice for you from now on,’ Tom hissed, his voice brittle. ‘You’ve had more than enough for one evening as it is.’
‘But I’ve only...’
‘Don’t come the innocent with me Evangeline! I wonder what’s so precious that you’ve had to take your handbag bag every time you visited the cloakroom. Perhaps if l was to look inside?’
‘Please your bloody self!’ Evangeline spat, throwing the bag in Tom’s direction. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for,’
‘On this occasion, no,’ Tom sighed wearily, passing back the bag. ‘But I have to say, I’m really disappointed in you, Evangeline. I thought we...’
Ignoring Tom’s hurt expression, Evangeline rummaged in her handbag for a packet of peppermints, popped a snow-white disc between her scarlet lips, tugged at her newly cropped hair with her fingers and announced. ‘How long is this dreary music going on? I thought Bunty mentioned something about old village photos. I can’t wait to be reminded of Church Haywood in the dark ages and all those long forgotten, quaint old customs. Why,’ she added, a bit too brightly for Tom’s liking, ‘we might even see some ghosts from the past.’
Max was still holding Alison’s hand when the disco finished and Rosie’s brother put the last of his records and CDs away. Without warning, someone turned on the light switches, flooding the hall with light. While the assembled gathering became accustomed to the harsh neon glare, George pointed to the newly erected boards at the far end of the hall.
‘Ladies and gent
lemen,’ he called. ‘For those of you who want to wallow in nostalgia, if you’d care to form an orderly queue...’
‘Gracious, you make it sound just like the war, George,’ someone quipped jovially.
‘As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,’ George grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d care to form an orderly queue and walk round in a clockwise direction. Is that right, Alison?’
Releasing her hand from Max’s grasp, Alison nodded. ‘Yes. The older photos are at the beginning and progress through to the jubilee celebrations and beyond to the present day, at the far end of the hall.’
Mention of the Queen’s jubilee reminded Max of Tara’s birth. She was only a baby when he and Virginia had pushed her pram through the high street towards the village green, to join in the local festivities.
Church Haywood had been a sea of red, white and blue bunting. The older children had joined the fancy dress procession; there had been an attempt at an ‘It’s a Knockout’ contest between local village groups; a celebrity cricket match on the village green and later that night; a Jubilee Ball. No wonder everyone had gone home exhausted.
Through a sea of faces, Max found his attention drawn to Alison’s red, white and blue cotton skirt and white broderie anglaise blouse. Tara had been wearing a white broderie anglaise dress and mobcap (to protect her from the sun) all those years ago. Max reached for Alison’s hand once more. When she turned to face him, she heard him whisper, ‘Tara.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Alison replied, unaware of the jumble of thoughts rushing through his head. ‘Perhaps we can look together… to see if we can find her on some of the photos.’
Masking his bewilderment, Max rubbed at his eyes and joined the group anxious to study the photos. Evangeline, he noticed, remained seated clutching at a bright pink envelope.
*
Listening to the interminable, ‘Ooh-look-there’s-wots-is-name-gosh-I-remember-that-and-hasn’t-it-all-altered?’ Evangeline became bored. Turning to Connie, she asked impatiently, ‘How long are they going to stand drooling over those photos? I thought we were here for a barn dance. Can’t we have some lively music after that dreary disco?’
Secrets From The Past Page 15