Chapter 5
‘Pass the teapot, please, Alex,’ Peter said at breakfast.
‘Dad! You’ve drunk coffee for breakfast for years.’
‘I know I have.’
Alex passed him the teapot. ‘Here you are.’
‘I decided I’d got into a rut, so drinking tea is my attempt to brighten up my image.’
Alex laughed. ‘Honestly! Do you feel you’re in a rut?’
‘Yes. Time I moved on.’
‘Literally? Move away?’
‘Been thinking of it. New challenges, you know.’
‘So long as it’s not Africa, Dad. I don’t think any of us could cope with that.’
‘No, I wasn’t thinking of Africa, more Culworth, but not yet. Can’t do anything drastic until you and Beth have finished school. Anyway, for the moment I need to stay in my comfort zone.’
Alex laughed again. ‘Just think: when, or if, Beth and I go to university you’ll be able to move anywhere. Anywhere at all.’
‘You’re right there. I shall. Now where do you recommend? ’
‘Canterbury?’ Alex’s wicked grin made Peter smile.
‘Definitely not. I’m not into corridors of power.’
‘York?’
‘Mmm. No, not York.’
‘I know! The East End!’
‘That would be a real shake-up. New challenges writ large.’
They both heard Beth clattering down the stairs.
‘Morning, everyone! What are we doing today?’
‘Prep?’ Alex suggested.
‘Certainly not. I’ve loads to do but it can wait. I’m dressed for Culworth.’
‘If we rush we can catch the bus. Twenty minutes?’
‘I’m game.’
‘So am I. Here’s your tea.’
Beth slurped a mouthful of tea. ‘Mum gone already, Dad?’
‘Eight-thirty clinic.’
Beth moaned. ‘I wish she didn’t work on Saturdays. I used to love Saturdays. It’s the only day in the week when we’re all free.’
Peter protested. ‘It only happens occasionally. Be fair!’
Alex pointed at her cereal bowl with his knife handle. ‘Eat,’ he commanded.
‘You’re a bully, you are.’
‘Hurry up. I’m going to clean my teeth.’ He raced up the stairs, eager for the off. He had two CD tokens and £10 in his pocket, and he intended spending it all, though it wasn’t very much cash, not nowadays.
Twenty minutes later they ran out of the Rectory, across the Green and arrived at the bus stop outside the Village Store to find a queue of six waiting. They were teased for being out of breath after running such a short distance. But they hadn’t time for much more because the bus came groaning up Shepherd’s Hill and they all piled on as fast as they could because the driver was so impatient.
‘He’s almost always late. Today he’s early and he still wants to be off sharpish. We can’t win,’ someone said.
Alone in the house, Peter decided that this was his chance to catch up on some reading. So once he’d tidied the kitchen, cleaned his teeth and read his post, he settled down to read a revolutionary book he’d been longing to begin for over a week, Is God For Me?
An hour later and he was deeply involved. He was oblivious to the people going by his study window, the sound of a group of horses trotting by on the regular Saturday morning hack, and the cars pulling up for the Saturday morning coffee hour in the village hall. His book was totally absorbing and well up to what he had hoped it to be.
When the doorbell rang, he went to answer it with his mind very much elsewhere.
Standing on the doorstep was someone he knew but couldn’t quite place. She was possibly now in her early fifties, like himself, more plump than he remembered, very fair-haired, with round pink cheeks and looking remarkably like . . .
‘Peter! Good morning. You don’t change. Still that lovely youthful look.’
‘I’m sorry I don’t . . .’ Oh God! Oh! God! It was her! It couldn’t be. It was. Hell! ‘Why, it’s Suzy . . . Meadows. No, Palmer. Of course it is.’
‘Yes.’
She looked intently at him, remembering every inch of his handsome compassionate face, his thick strawberry blond hair, knowing she’d done the right thing coming unexpectedly, he’d never have said yes otherwise. ‘Can I come in? The whole village will gossip if . . .’
‘Of course.’ Peter opened the door wider and invited her in. What the blazes . . . Thank God Caroline was out. And the twins. What was she thinking of coming here uninvited?
‘I knew you wouldn’t mind. Did the twins tell you I wrote?’
‘Eventually.’ Peter didn’t know whether to go in the study or invite her into the sitting room. ‘Shall I make us coffee?’
‘Yes, please. It’s been a long drive.’ Her acceptance solved the problem of where to sit. She followed him into the kitchen admiring his back view as much as she had admired him face to face. She remembered him physically so vividly, and still without a single white hair. Bless him!
He suggested she sat on one of the rocking chairs Caroline always had by the Aga. He was making instant. Ground coffee was beyond him right now. His hand shook as he spooned the coffee out into the mugs. She should never have come. What was she thinking of? ‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Both, please. I still have a sweet tooth, you know.’
How could he know that after all these years? He didn’t know it when she lived in the village.
He handed it to her, placing it carefully, as Caroline would have done had she been here, on the corner of the Aga, her favourite place for her morning coffee. It was no good, he’d have to ask straight out, with no beating about the bush or polite conversation for conversation’s sake. ‘Why have you come?’
Suzy observed him over the rim of her mug. ‘You ask me that?’
‘Yes, I do.’
For a while Suzy remained silent, sipping the coffee. It was too hot, too sweet, his abruptness too horrifying. This wasn’t the gentle Peter she’d kept close to her heart all these years when remembering their moment of heart-stopping passion.
‘Well? It’s no good coming and saying nothing, or is that the whole point of this sudden arrival? Silent accusation?’
He’d become harsh and inconsiderate; this wasn’t like Peter. All these years with Caroline had obviously taken their toll. ‘The twins, are they at home?’
‘No, they are not.’ He didn’t add ‘thank God’, which he would have liked to have done.
‘Caroline?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a pity. I would have liked to see her again. I’ve chosen the wrong morning. I thought we could all have a talk together, make arrangements, you know. It’s simple: I want to get to know my twins. Now they’re older they can make their own decisions, can’t they? If they see me I’m sure it will have more impact than the letters.’
For one brief moment Peter recalled the sensations he’d felt that fateful morning, when . . . but the attraction wasn’t there now, that overwhelming need for her body which had scuppered - well, almost scuppered his marriage. If it hadn’t been for Caroline’s profound love for him . . .
‘What you are doing right now is quite simply grossly unfair,’ he said.
‘Not at all. I gave birth to them, they were mine, and now I want to see them. I’m not taking them away from you - I can’t, legally - I’d just like a share of them. I got Alex’s letter, but of course he didn’t mean what he said in it. Reading between the lines, it was a plea for recognition. How could he not want to see his mother? Obviously he was being influenced by Caroline.’
‘Caroline had nothing whatsoever to do with the writing of that letter. It was entirely what he and Beth both felt. Had you seen their distress when they read your letters you wouldn’t be here now. You are deliberately confusing their loyalties.’
‘All I’m asking for is some time set aside for me to see them. I’m not asking them to come to live with me, though that�
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‘Stop it right there. This minute. I would do all I could to stop that ever happening. I will not allow their present happiness, their present deep security to be dragged away from them by someone they don’t even know. I will not have it. I want you to go. Now! No ifs, no buts. Now. Right away.’ Peter got to his feet, put his mug in the sink so sharply that it smashed against the tap and broke. He paused for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, battling to keep a hold on himself. ‘I will not have their lives disrupted because of a whim of yours.’
Suzy pressed on with putting her case. ‘Whim? This is all Caroline’s doing, I can see that. Though she was grateful enough at the time. Remember her joy? Her joy brought about by my sacrifice? Surely it’s not too much to ask - to see them, to talk with them. Things shouldn’t be like this. I want to be able to get to know them, to kiss them goodnight at bedtime sometimes. Is it so terrible to feel like that?’
‘Yes. No, it isn’t. Yes, it is. The decision is entirely theirs and is not influenced by either myself or Caroline, you must understand that. You were glad to give them away when they were born. We were very useful. Just you remember that, please.’
Suzy stood up. She didn’t even come to his shoulder, but he felt her strength, her animosity and her shattering disappointment. ‘It took two of us. It wasn’t a virgin birth. My offering the two of them to you, their father, saved Caroline’s sanity, remember?’
She was right about that, for Caroline was full of pain at the time knowing she would never be able to give him children, so much so she’d offered to divorce him so he would be free.
‘Yes, I do remember. She offered to adopt them for my sake and I refused at first. I couldn’t bear the thought of having the evidence of my infidelity in my own home every single day. My unfaithfulness to her was one of the most distressing, turbulent, horrifying things that has ever happened to me.’
Suzy interrupted him. ‘It was one of the most wonderful things for me. It was only my desperate financial state that made me know I could never keep the pair of them, not when I had to work to keep a roof over my girls’ heads, to buy the very food on my girls’ plates. How could I have kept them? I couldn’t. It broke my heart giving them away, but there was no alternative.’ She drew closer to him. ‘Wasn’t that day wonderful for you? The two of us? Together? You both got your heart’s desire, didn’t you? Say you did, or my sacrifice will have been worthless.’ There came a gentle, pleading note in her voice in those last words and Peter’s flesh crawled with dismay. Or was it revulsion? Had she forgotten she was compliant, a co-conspirator? Eager for him?
‘There is nothing else to be said. Please, just go.’
He strode out of the kitchen, unable to cope any longer. He flung the Rectory door wide open and stood breathing heavily, waiting for her. She was more right then he was prepared to give her credit for. Of course they were glad to have them, both of them were glad, but would she never go? Where had that sweet, pliant person gone? Had he, Peter Harris, never regretted anything he’d done? Wished he could turn back the clock? Of course he had. The matter which had brought about the twins’ very existence was the biggest regret of his life, but he couldn’t turn the clock on that and neither could she.
It felt like an age before she finally appeared in the hall.
Her beautiful blue eyes, Beth’s eyes, were flooded with tears. He wouldn’t give in, not at this moment. He mustn’t. But he felt his determination beginning to wither away.
‘Please, Peter, put a word in for me with the twins, especially Alex. I expect he has your kind of compassion and at least he would be a part of you which—’
‘Believe me, no part of me is yours. We both, tragically, made a horrific mistake in what we did. I prayed to God for years for forgiveness and don’t know if I have it even now. Selfishly perhaps, I am completely safe in Caroline’s love and so are the children, and I want it to remain that way. Now, please, leave. I haven’t anything more to say. Let’s part amicably.’
Suzy rested a hand on his arm. ‘You’re still a very attractive man. I shall love you to the end of my days, Peter. That’s how I feel. But I shan’t let this rest. I am determined to get to know our children.’
He heard himself saying brutally. ‘At whatever cost to them?’
‘There won’t be a cost to them, simply an enrichment of their lives. I’m not a bad woman, but I am a loving one.’
Footsteps approaching the Rectory alerted them both. It was Ford Barclay, seeing Suzy’s hand on Peter’s arm he concluded . . .
‘Good morning, Reverend,’ he said. ‘Good morning to you, madam. You must be the Reverend’s wife. Nice to meet you. The name’s Ford Barclay. Beautiful morning, isn’t it? Makes you glad to be alive.’
He offered his hand to Suzy and she shook it saying, ‘Nice to meet you. I’ll leave you with Peter.’
Stunned by her obvious attempt to pass herself off as his wife, Peter hurriedly explained, ‘This lady is a parishioner from years ago, just passing by.’
‘Oh! Sorry. Didn’t realise. I’ll call back on Monday, then. It’s not urgent. Will you be around?’
‘In the afternoon I shall.’
‘Fine. That’ll do nicely. Good morning to you both.’ He smiled at them both and left, and Suzy smiled back. For one brief moment she imagined she really was the Rector’s wife. She looked up at Peter and saw the disappointment in his face; she convinced herself that the disappointment she saw was because of his regret that she wasn’t the Rector’s wife, so the truth really was that he would have preferred for that man to have been right. Well, she certainly wouldn’t have any problems with that.
Then Suzy reached up on tiptoe, kissed Peter, patted his arm and gave him a tremulous, loving smile, which took away the past years from her face and made her young again.
As the door slammed behind her, Suzy smiled to herself. Obviously she’d caught him on the raw. Still, he’d come round. Well now, what was there to stop her going for a coffee in the village hall? Quite a normal thing to be doing in Turnham Malpas on a Saturday morning, surely? There’d no doubt be a few people there who remembered her.
The twins rang at twelve to say they were staying on in Culworth to see a film so they wouldn’t be back until the teatime bus. ‘All right, Dad?’ Alex asked. ‘Your voice sounds odd.’
‘I’m OK. That’s fine. Are you both OK?’
‘Of course.’
‘All right for money?’
‘Yes, thanks. Beth’s found a ten-pound note she’d forgotten she had, so added to mine we shall be all right.’
‘Right, then. Be seeing you. Enjoy.’
It was Suzy’s determination to have ‘a share’, as she called it, of the twins that had upset Peter. Just how ungracious was he being by saying no to her? Come to think of it, though, it was Alex and Beth’s decision and he’d no business to interfere. But her visit had shaken him to the core. There was no doubt he had to tell Caroline. A glance at the clock told him that she would be back in half an hour at the earliest, depending on when the clinic ended.
They’d have lunch, just the two of them, in the dining room. He’d lay the table with the best china and open a bottle of wine, heat up the quiche, use some of the salad in the fridge. Or would that appear too obvious? It well might. No, in the kitchen would be better.
He heard her footsteps in the hall and the sound of her voice calling, ‘Darling! It’s me! Lunch ready? I’m starving.’
They always kissed when either of them got home, and this morning Peter kissed her more fervently than usual.
‘Rector! You’ve missed me! And I’ve missed you, too.’ She stood back and looked at him. ‘What’s wrong? Something’s happened.’
‘It’s all ready. I’ll get the quiche out. Sit down.’
Caroline gave her hands a thorough wash under the kitchen tap then sat down. ‘I don’t like the look on your face. What is it? Peter?’
‘Bread roll? Butter?’
‘Thanks. Well?’
>
‘Get started. Wine?’
‘Oh! That’s nice. Just what I need. It’s been hectic at the clinic today. I’m worn to a shred.’
‘Beth doesn’t like you working on Saturdays. She claims it’s the only day in the week we have together.’
‘Well, it is only occasionally, and if that’s all she has to put up with . . . it’s nothing compared to what some children have to tolerate.’ Caroline shrugged, spooned some salad out of the bowl and began to eat. ‘I had three retired people in this morning, when the clinic is supposed to be for people who work and can’t get in without taking time off, and you’ll never guess, they—’
The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 7