The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas)
Page 21
Ford, not yet too seriously alerted by the goading he was receiving, said. ‘Of course, just like lots of businesses where cash in hand and no questions asked is common. I’ve met that kind of dishonesty. I remember a chap . . .’ Ford clamped his mouth shut, then changed tack. ‘The Inland Revenue loses millions every year because of it.’ He managed a bleak smile.
Nigel laughed with delight and pointed a finger at him. ‘Go on! Go on! I remember once . . . Tell us!’
Ford didn’t reply.
‘You see! You’re as bad as everyone else. Tax-dodger sublime! No wonder you can retire before you’re fifty. The whole of the scrap metal trade is swimming in money since China decided to turn capitalist and build and build. Is that where it all went? Eh?’
Finally Ford saw where it was all heading. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. ‘I’m damned glad I beat you today: it was just what you deserved.’
Ford glanced at Craddock Fitch but he remained impassively detached, as though watching a play in a theatre. Ford’s stomach rumbled with nerves. Was Craddock really at the root of all this? When he’d thought they were friends? Now what should he do? That hole in one and the triumph he felt came up from somewhere and gave him courage. He didn’t care if he upset Craddock Fitch. He was saying it and damn the lot of ’em.
‘I wouldn’t dream of telling two bastards like you the intricacies of my business. There’s straight and there’s crooked and I was one of the former . . . to the best of my ability. Think what you blasted well like. I’m as clean as a whistle.’ He crossed his fingers behind his back. ‘Thank you for the hundred pounds I won. I’m glad we beat you. I’ll pay for the lunch and the drinks because I don’t want to be beholden to two nasty, sly devils like you. I’m also bloody glad I got that hole in one. Thanks for the invitation, Craddock. I know you won’t be inviting me again and I don’t want you to. Good afternoon!’
He stormed off to pay the day’s bill with his credit card. It was twice what he had expected but he didn’t give a damn. He’d come so close to ’fessing up he was sweating from head to foot. His clothes clung to him and he felt disgusted by the way in which drink had almost been his downfall, because those two glasses of Cointreau he’d been bullied into drinking had finally taken him right to the edge. As for Craddock Fitch. Well, he hadn’t enough vocabulary to describe how he felt about him. Merc was right. Craddock had set him up good and proper, and he, Ford Barclay, would never forgive him for it. To catch him out had been Craddock’s intention all along. If those two nasty beggars were the kind of friends Craddock had, then he didn’t want to be one of them.
As he triggered his remote control Ford did wonder if he was fit to drive after all that drink. But he had no way out of it. Ford drove home very steadily, sweating anew each time he thought about the close shave he’d had. It worried him that he hadn’t seen it coming. This rural life had slowed him up and it wouldn’t do.
As he approached Glebe House he pulled himself together, straightened his tie, put a mint in his mouth, a smile on his face, and thrust the whole episode behind him. Well, almost. Thank God Craddock hadn’t suggested they travel to the golf course together. He would probably have murdered the beggar on the way home and dropped him in a ditch. He’d concentrate on the hole in one, the wonderful food and the superb clubhouse when he told Merc how he’d got on.
Craddock Fitch went home delighted with his day. He’d done exactly what he’d intended, to persuade the other two to ply Ford with drink and flattery until he let spill something of how crooked he’d been. He’d always suspected him of not being entirely honest and that one short sentence had proved it, though Ford had been astute enough to turn the tables by telling the other two exactly what he thought of them. He grinned at Ford’s discomfort but had to admire him for standing up for himself, even when it was all too late, and leaving the premises with dignity. For certain, Ford couldn’t blame Mr Craddock Fitch. He’d not said a word, had he?
Even better was the satisfaction of beating Marcus and Nigel at golf. What a game! It was the first time he’d ever beaten them, and the pleasure of it was most satisfying. That hole in one had done wonders for Ford’s golf and his own.
Wait till he told Kate. She’d laugh, and he loved to see her laugh.
But he didn’t get the chance to love her laughter. She was furious with him.
‘How could you? He and Merc may not be out of the top drawer, a state of affairs you admire greatly apparently, but they are kind people and fitting in well here in the village and doing good, with the youth club and such. I’m ashamed of you, I really am.’
Craddock could tell from the tremor in her voice that the anger was real.
‘I never said a word.’
‘Come off it! Don’t play the innocent with me. You set it up with those two nasty beggars. I’ve only met them once and that was once too often.’
‘We beat them at golf, though, so that was a plus. It’ll be a long time before Ford forgets his hole in one.’
‘Good for him. I shall congratulate him next time I see him. Mind you, he probably won’t speak to me after this episode. I am ashamed of you, darling. I truly am. It was beneath you.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’m going for a bath and don’t bother me when you come to bed. I shall be asleep.’
‘Right. Right.’
‘You can spend the silence thinking of ways to make it up to him. Goodnight.’
Blast Kate’s passionate belief in honesty and integrity. She could afford it. She hadn’t been dragged up as he had been, or needed to learn to fight her corner. But he preferred her that way, gentle and kind, forthright and beautiful, and a wonderful lover. At his age, what more could he ask? She was a gift he didn’t deserve when he did things like he’d done today. He’d get into bed before her, scrubbed and smelling promising, and see what happened. He’d give her a full apology with a promise to grovel to Ford with another full apology for his own crass stupidity. But the fact was, Marcus had big contacts in the business world and Craddock had a nasty suspicion that he’d very likely use them to shop Ford. Craddock suggesting he shouldn’t would only make Marcus laugh uncommonly like a drain, which was what he was: a sewer, both in his business and in his private life. For Kate’s sake he’d drop the chap pronto.
Craddock fell asleep as soon as he got into bed. As for Kate, she slept in the guest bedroom, a very real indication to Craddock when he woke the next morning of how angry she was with him.
Chapter 18
Caroline hadn’t slipped the letter from Suzy in between Peter’s letters on purpose, but when he got back about half past nine from the Abbey retreat Peter found it in his study amongst his other post. The need to read it, even though it wasn’t addressed to him, overcame him and he did just that. It broke his heart. In his adult life, when his eyes had filled with tears, he’d always wiped them away. Tonight the tears ran down his face unheeded, and a man weeping is so very painful to witness that he was glad to be alone. He read it three times and longed to tear it into shreds so tiny no one would ever be able to piece them together.
All the internal peace, the space for reflection the retreat had given him fled. He was more broken than he could bear. How could she describe what had happened as intense passion. In fact, it was over in moments. His beloved, darling Caro must have spent a terrible day and yet she’d greeted his return with love. Just as he decided to wipe his tears and ask her for a word there was a knock at the door and, thinking it was her, he said, ‘Come in.’
‘Dad, I wondered if you’d . . . why, Dad, whatever’s the matter? ’ Alex quickly closed the door when he saw the letter in his hand. ‘Not from . . . you know . . .’
‘To your mother, not me.’
‘Has Mum read it?’
‘I assume so.’
‘So that’s why she’s been so quiet since we came home. What does it say?’
‘The usual, but now she not only wants the two of you, she wants me, too.’
Alex flung himself do
wn on the sofa, bereft of speech. Half of him knew his dad would never leave them, but the other half did wonder if what he dreaded most of all, the break-up of his family, was about to happen.
It was Peter who broke the silence. ‘What’s Mum doing at the moment?’
‘She’s in the kitchen making bedtime hot chocolate for the four of us.’
‘Do me a favour - take over and tell her I need a word.’ He tapped his desk. ‘In here.’
Unaware he’d seen the letter, Caroline was completely taken by surprise when Peter said, ‘Close the door, darling, please. I’ve read your letter - I assume that was what you wanted me to do. Suzy must have gone completely mad. She needs to be sectioned. Every word of this letter is a lie and I’m not putting up with it any longer. Do you understand? I won’t have it. She is making a whole life-changing tragedy out of nothing. She is not getting the children and definitely not getting me. Do you hear? I don’t know how to go about stopping it but don’t doubt that I shall. You’re to take no notice of her, and if another letter comes, put it in a safe place for evidence and don’t open it.’
Caroline didn’t answer him. She simply went to sit down on the sofa, floored by his outburst.
‘I’m so sorry, my darling, that a few brief moments of . . . over-heated blood are causing you such devastating trouble. So very sorry. But I shall put my mind to it and settle the matter once and for all.’
‘How?’
Peter leaned his elbows on his thighs and studied his hands. ‘I honestly don’t know at the moment. I shall think about it long and hard.’
‘I see.’
He looked up at her. ‘Have you nothing more to say?’
‘No. What can I say? A matter I thought was settled and forgiven has erupted into this. It’s unbearable.’
Peter went to join her on the sofa.
Caroline leaned against him for comfort. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day. Whatever she does or says, you and I and the children are a complete family and I shall resolutely refuse to allow anything to break that up no matter what pain it causes me, no matter what I have to face.’
‘We shan’t break up. I have no more feeling for her than I have for any other human being. I hate what she has become. Unfortunately Alex knows we’ve had this letter. He walked in when I was reading it and guessed what it was.’
‘You know I have never said a word against her to the children?’
‘Of course I know that.’ He took her hand in his and, turning it over, kissed the palm. ‘You are the love of my life until my very last breath and beyond.’
‘And you are mine.’
‘We’ll get over this, believe me. I thank God every day of my life for you.’
Caroline touched his cheek gently and kissed his lips. ‘So long as we hang on to what we have for each other that’s . . . that’s how we shall defeat her.’
Alex kicked the door. ‘Chocolate and biscuits in there or the kitchen?’
Caroline answered, ‘Kitchen! Thanks. Just coming.’ She said to Peter, ‘He’s such a stalwart, is Alex, just like you.’
‘So is Beth. We had a talk about Jake last Sunday. She has such a lot of common sense, you know, she’s learned that from you. You’re the loveliest mother any girl could wish for, remember that, and she loves you dearly and so does Alex. For their sakes I shall get all this sorted. I’ll answer the letter on our behalf, right?’
They walked into the kitchen with their arms round each other, and Alex smiled, relieved that blasted letter hadn’t upset them or alienated them from each other. Why his natural mother should be so ridiculous as to think the whole family could be broken up just to resolve her loneliness he could not understand. She obviously cared for them as little as she did the day she gave the two of them away. Thank God she had. Her kind of possessiveness he would not have been able to tolerate.
This was how it should be - the four of them at the kitchen table passing the biscuit tin round.
Chapter 19
Although Saturday was his day off, Peter claimed he had matters to attend to and would not be free to go anywhere at all with anyone.
Alex and Beth were overloaded with prep that weekend, so Caroline found she had a Saturday all to herself. Although Peter had said nothing about where he was going even to her, she knew for certain he was going to solve the Suzy question. The whole matter was driving her round the bend and added to that was the pain of worrying about the idea of Suzy and Peter together. Would there still be some spark left? No, of course not. She and Peter had the strongest of relationships and were united in their desire to be rid of Suzy. The thing was, should they want to be rid of her? Should they not perhaps keep some door open so if the children changed their minds . . . would they? Perhaps they might as they became adults. Maybe it would be better all round to maintain an opening for the two of them, just in case.
Was she being too afraid? Under-estimating the strength of their love for her? Not being sufficiently aware of their needs, making it impossible for them to make the first move towards Suzy because of the hurt she as their adopted mother might feel if they did?
She’d go into Culworth and see the embroidery exhibition, take her mind off her problems. Grandmama had been and told her how fabulous it was, especially the work of the Turnham Malpas embroidery group. ‘Though how such wonderful talent has emerged from such a motley collection of women, I simply do not know,’ she added. That comment had rather shocked Caroline, because everyone in the group was dear to her heart.
When she got to the town hall Caroline was surprised to find a queue winding out of the entrance and down the street. A glance at her watch told her the doors had opened only ten minutes ago so she was glad to have arrived early. In the catalogue Caroline saw that the Turnham Malpas entries were in the upper gallery so she made her way there immediately.
Sitting on a chair directly opposite her entries was Mercedes, looking absorbed but also different from usual. She wore no make-up at all, not even lipstick, which made her look younger, not older as one might expect. It seemed to Caroline as though some crisis had broken her spirit.
But there was no wonder she was absorbed by her work. It was fabulous - jaw-droppingly fabulous. The exhibition drew work from all over the country, so the Turnham Malpas group should be proud of their contribution. The wall their exhibits occupied glowed, helped by the exuberant joy of Mercedes’ work.
Caroline sat down next to her and stayed quietly in admiration. The sadness emanated from her in great waves of distress and Caroline was moved to take hold of her hand. Mercedes never spoke; she simply sat there, accepting Caroline’s sympathy.
Eventually Caroline said, ‘Your work is very beautiful. Very inspiring. You are so lucky to have talent like this.’
Mercedes smiled sadly and squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t know where it comes from. But it is, isn’t it? Beautiful?’
‘It certainly is. You must be proud.’
‘I’m not. Grateful perhaps, but not proud.’
A small approving crowd had gathered around the Turnham Malpas collection.
‘Listen to them, Mercedes, they’re loving your work.’
The two of them silently listened to their comments and Caroline couldn’t help saying, ‘What with your talent for embroidery and Ford’s wonderful voice, you’re both so gifted. I was amazed when he sang the solo part in church. I’d no idea he was so good. He should have trained as a singer. It’s never too late, you know.’
Two tears rolled down Mercedes’ face, which were quickly wiped away.
‘We’ve been so happy living here. Ever since we came, people have liked us and that’s worth a lot.’
‘Why shouldn’t they like two lovely people with such wonderful skills?’
‘If only . . .’
‘Mercedes! Cheer up. Let’s go for a wander, see if anything comes up to Turnham Malpas standards, shall we?’ And wander they did, arm in arm, along the upper gallery and then all the way round the ground floor, till
finally they went out into the street.
‘There you are, you see,’ said Caroline. ‘Our village entries were far and away the best, due mostly to your superb work.’
Mercedes turned to her. ‘Thank you for keeping me company. I needed someone back there. Those two lovely children of yours are a delight. Take care of them as best you can; they deserve it. Ford and I can’t have children and it’s a running sore that never heals, so rejoice you’ve got them. They’re very precious. Bye-bye.’
Unexpectedly, Mercedes kissed Caroline on both cheeks. It felt almost like a goodbye kiss. Then she squeezed the hand she was holding and . . . looked as though she was going to say something more but didn’t.
Instead Mercedes quickly turned away and walked rapidly in the direction of the bus station. Caroline called out, ‘Let me give you a lift . . .’ but her offer was ignored.