‘How on earth could we manage that?’
Peter braked at the lights. Looking straight ahead he said, ‘I’ve organised it.’
‘How?’
‘I’ve arranged for your mother and father to come down. Your mother can’t wait to have the twins to herself.’
‘Peter! She’s never said a word! I should have been consulted. I knew nothing about it. You never asked me.’
‘I know I didn’t. It’s a decision I made for your sake, and for mine. We both need to recuperate. It’s been a long haul these last three months.’
‘You can’t possibly go away at this time of year so close to Christmas. What about all the work there is to do with the Midnight Service, and the old people’s Christmas Lunch and the Scouts’ Christmas Party and Christmas morning and things and there’s …’
‘Yes?’
‘You’ve so much to do.’
‘I haven’t, it’s all done. Anne Parkin has got all the typing done, the order of service, the special carols, everything, I’ve checked it all and it’s ready for printing out, Sheila Bissett has organised all the decorations, with I might add Grandmama’s invaluable assistance, although I understand from Gilbert that Sheila’s file is firmly in her hands and Grandmama is not allowed even a peep …’
Caroline laughed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, there’s a kind of armed truce, how long it will last I don’t know. Gilbert has arranged the choir anthems with my enthusiastic approval, Mrs Peel and I have had a long consultation about the organ music, Willie has got his lists ready and all I have to do is go away and enjoy myself.’
‘How on earth have you managed to do all that so early?’
‘Determination, my darling. Determination that you and I were having a week in Crete together, all on our own, re-establishing ourselves.’
‘Crete? How wonderful! I’ve always wanted to go there.’
‘I though it might be fairly warm still and not too far away. We shall be able to leave all our cares behind us and just wander about, just the two of us. Together. On our own.’
With an amused grin on her face Caroline replied, ‘If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were talking in terms of a second honeymoon.’
‘I am. I can’t wait. It’s been so long. I’ll park in my place and then we’ll walk through.
*
He stood up when he saw her come back into the corridor. Her eyes searched for him amongst the waiting patients and having found him they looked at one another long and hard. He’d spent the hour and a half she’d been away praying like he’d never prayed before. The confidence she’d lost he had also lost, but he had feared to admit to her he was as much at sea as she. He daren’t smile before she did, in case the news was grim. Then as she walked towards him he realised her eyes were shining with joy, and relief ran through every vein in his body and filled him with profound rejoicing.
Caroline came close to him and looking up she said, ‘I can’t quite believe it but … it does appear things are looking quite good.’ Her face shone with love. ‘You were right to be confident after all. I’m so grateful to be …’ The rest of what she had to say was smothered by Peter’s cloak as he hugged her tight.
‘Thank God. Thank God. Let’s leave this place. Quick. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.’ He grasped her hand and hastened her out. As they crossed the car park he released his hold on her hand and with clenched fists raised above his head punched the air shouting, ‘Hallelujah!’
‘Peter, don’t, everyone will hear you.’
‘And why not. What news. What a relief.’
‘Another check-up in three months and then six months after that. I’m just so grateful. It really was touch and go.’
‘More than you realise.’
‘Of course I realised, I am a doctor after all. I knew more than most.’
‘But they never told you that your heart stopped did they?’
‘Did it?’
‘Yes, about an hour after you came out of theatre.’
‘Oh God, I didn’t know. Oh heavens. I’d no idea. My legs have gone all weak.’
He opened the car door. ‘Here let me help you in. You frightened the life out of me.’
‘You were there?’
‘I was. Mind your coat. That’s it.’
‘I had no idea. No wonder they were so very particular about me. I thought it was because I was a medic, you know, one of their own as you might say. Peter, we need that holiday don’t we? Is it booked?’
‘I’ve an option on it, which I shall confirm this very day. So it’s bells on Sunday and we leave Tuesday.
After lunch Peter called in at the Store to cancel his papers whilst he was away.
Jimbo wrote it down in his order book and as he snapped the book shut he said, ‘Seems to me things have taken a turn for the better if you’re going away.’
‘They have. They’re very pleased at the hospital, the operation appears to have been a success and she doesn’t have to go again for three months. In consequence of which we’re taking a holiday. Her parents are coming down to stay with the children while we go, but they don’t take a morning paper.’
‘I’m delighted, absolutely delighted. Harriet will be beside herself, she’s been so worried.’
‘So have we. I shan’t want to go through all that again. Never again.’
‘I should say not. Big day on Sunday. I’m feeling very nervous, this bell-ringing lark has really got to me. We’ve a rehearsal tonight and tomorrow night and then the real thing Sunday. We intend making enough noise to wake the dead.’
‘You’ve no idea how I’m longing to hear the bells. This business of having recordings and pretending it’s real, well …’
‘Exactly. We’ve got quite a team together you know. There’s ten of us fighting for a chance to ring.’
‘Brilliant. Wonderful. That’s excellent news.’
‘Don’t suppose, Peter, you’ve had any news about who attacked Dicky and Bel’s have you?’
‘None at all. Except, between you and I, I bumped into Mrs Jones … is she here?’ – Jimbo shook his head – ‘into Mrs Jones and I gave her a long look when I asked her if she’d heard any rumours about who’d done it and she avoided my eye. She was obviously very uncomfortable and dashed away as soon as she could. What do you think?’
‘She’s been very cagey with me about it too. Could be Kenny and Terry know something, they’re those kind of people. But if we get the police involved then the press will get to know and then the balloon will go up, oh yes. Excuse me. Bel, the bakery van’s here. See to it will you. One day he’ll arrive on time.’
Bel called across as she went to open the door, ‘They’re a man short; he’s having to do two rounds.’
‘That’s not our fault.’
Peter took his leave. ‘I must be away. Lots to do before Sunday. I’ll give Caroline your good wishes.’
‘Thanks.’ Jimbo touched his boater and then turned his attention to the delivery man. ‘Now, Trevor, this won’t do. It’s three times this week alone that you’ve not got here till the afternoon. Most of my bread trade is in the mornings you know. It’s too late now and I hate selling yesterday’s bread. If it’s late again, I shall refuse to accept the order.’
‘Sorry, Mr Charter-P. We’ve a new roundsman starting tomorrow, so everything will be back to normal. I don’t like delivering late any more than you. I’ll be here in good time tomorrow. Ta-ta for now.’ Jimbo caught him winking at Bel. So … that was the way the wind was blowing.
‘He’s left the delivery note in the tray, Bel, I’ll check it off for you.’ Jimbo picked up the note and unfolded it. ‘Dear Bel,’ it read. He quickly refolded it. ‘Here, this is yours I think. Nice chap, you could do worse!’
He laughed and Bel blushed bright red as she recognised the writing. ‘He’s an old friend. That’s all. A friend of Dicky’s. There’s nothing going on.’
‘Come on, Bel, why not? You’ve as much right to
a life as anyone else. Go for it, I say.’
‘It’s only about him coming to hear the Scout band on Sunday. Dicky’s organised a performance after the service.’
‘I know. Our boys have been practising for years, well not years, but certainly weeks. I swear I could play the trumpet myself I’ve listened to the tunes so many times. It’s going to be great, what with the bells and the band. What a day.’
Though Turnham Malpas got its fair share of rain it was almost accepted as a matter of course that if they had anything special happening the weather would be fine. This Sunday was no exception. A fact which people in Penny Fawcett and Little Derehams accepted with bad grace. The element of rivalry between the three villages had been rumbling on for generations and good weather on a special day always brought out the animosity all over again. As bedroom curtains in the two villages were drawn back that morning and they all saw the clear cloudless skies and the pale winter sun, they said, ‘Might have known. It’s a lovely day, not a drop of rain in sight. How do they do it?’
Turnham Malpas smug in its own self-righteousness put on its Sunday best and went to the ten o’clock service, but this time for the first time for more years than they could remember the bells rang out across the fields beckoning them to church. Pure and sweet and triumphant.
Perhaps it was the novelty of the bells, or their gratitude for Caroline’s good news, or a simple need to praise their Maker, but whatever had motivated them they stretched Willie’s extra seating to the maximum. Just as he was beginning to think the last ones had found seats the Nightingales arrived, all seven of them. He remembered the old bench which usually stood in the churchyard, wiped the bird dirt off it with an old cloth from the boiler house storeroom, and he and Ralph carried it in and placed it right at the back near the font. Even so two of the children had to sit on the step below the font. The bells rang their final peal, and the ringers wiped their sweating faces and smiled their satisfaction at each other, and Peter and the choir entered and the service began. Peter stood on the altar steps to announce the first hymn. Behind him beside the altar was a beautiful display of flowers arranged by Sheila Bissett, and the old church silver was on display too, gleaming and twinkling in the light from the candle in the wonderful silver candlestick.
In pride of place at the front in the rectory pew alongside Caroline sat Mr Fitch. The role of benefactor sat well on his shoulders, and he couldn’t resist a gracious smile in Ralph and Muriel’s direction when Peter spoke of his generosity in paying for the restoration of the bells.
Peter also thanked everyone who had contributed to the Scout Band Fund. ‘We are all so proud. Scout bands are quite rare nowadays, and we are very privileged to have one of our own. I understand that in the future they are planning to compete in brass band competitions. We wish them all success. Dicky?’
Dicky’s face lit up with pride. He stood up and went to the altar steps to speak. ‘Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking …’ – he was interrupted here with a huge laugh – ‘I should just like to say how very, very grateful all the Scouts are for the generosity of the people of Turnham Malpas, and Little Derehams and Penny Fawcett and lots of other people in the surrounding area. Without their money and without their gifts of instruments they no longer had a need for, this band would never have got off the ground. In particular a big thank you to Sir Ralph for buying us such an absolutely spanking big drum, the Royal Marines would be proud to own it. If I was a bit taller I’d have a go myself!’
There came another burst of kindly laughter.
‘After the service the band will be giving a short concert, very short actually because we’re still beginners, to which you are all invited. We were going to perform in the churchyard but there’s so many of you here that we’ve moved the venue to the Green. There are lots of people I should thank, too numerous to mention, but I wish specially to thank Gilbert Johns, for all his wonderful help. Thank you, one and all.’
The congregation gathered in the road by the gate to the church hall and the band stood in formation on the Green facing them. Gilbert climbed onto an old upturned wooden crate from the Royal Oak, and with his baton raised he gathered the boys’ eyes and brought them in on a clashing of cymbals and a roll on the drum. Sheila Bissett who happened to be standing beside Grandmama felt very emotional. Dear Gilbert, he was such a lovely son-in-law and here he was conducting for all the world as if he was in the Albert Hall. He’d make a lovely father in the summer when the baby came and she’d be a grandmother and wouldn’t it be fun. She felt Grandmama give her a nudge. ‘Isn’t this wonderful? They’re really quite good considering.’
Thinking there was about to be a slur cast on Gilbert’s name Sheila asked sharply, ‘Considering what?’
‘How new to it they all are. Your Gilbert’s done wonders.’
Sheila preened herself, and smiled fondly at Gilbert’s energetic back. ‘He has hasn’t he?’
‘But the bells, that’ll have to stop.’
‘The bells?’
‘Yes, I know you’ll support me. I’m going to object.’
‘What is there to object about?’
‘The noise. We don’t need bells to remind us what time it is, we have all got clocks.’
‘Shhhh! I’m listening.’ Sheila thought well here’s one who won’t be objecting. She wouldn’t allow herself to be persuaded, not by the Duchess, never again. Sheila took considerable pleasure in saying, ‘Don’t count on me for support, I love ’em.’
Grandmama was disappointed. When the concert concluded she joined in the applause and general admiration of the boys and as the crowd dispersed to their Sunday dinners or a pint in the Royal Oak she caught up with Dicky. ‘Splendid, quite splendid. We’re lucky to have you Dicky. Everything working out all right now you’re full-time?’
‘Wonderful, quite wonderful, we’re so happy, Georgie and I.’
‘Heard from Bryn yet?’
‘’Fraid not. Got to go, see to the boys yer know. Thanks for everything.’
‘My pleasure.’ She spotted Jimbo and Harriet talking to Peter.
As she drew close she could hear Peter saying, ‘Who would have thought five years ago that we would have such a wonderful service as we’ve had this morning. The bells rehung, the church filled with young people, the band! Wonderful. I’m so thrilled. Everyone’s made such an effort.’
Jimbo clapped him on the back. ‘Not far to go to see why. It’s you, you know. All of it’s happening because of you.’
‘It’s the village itself that’s doing it in truth.’
Grandmama interrupted. ‘No, no, no, we owe it all to you, Peter. All to you. We’re putty in your hands, one look from those eyes of yours and our souls are laid bare and we do Exactly what you want of us.’ She tapped his arm and looking up into his face she said, ‘But I’m calling in a favour.’
Peter’s heart sank. He’d known from the first there’d be a day of reckoning for her sorting out Dicky and Georgie and Bel. ‘Yes?’
‘The bells. They’re far too noisy and I expect you intend them ringing for the eight o’clock service too after today, well, I’m sorry, but it won’t do. They’ll have to be muffled or something or the peal shortened. They’re enough to wake the dead.’
Peter was appalled. ‘But …’
Jimbo, remembering all his hours of practice, was outraged. He grasped her arm and said through clenched teeth, ‘Lunch, Mother? Now!’
‘Let go my arm, dear.’ She pushed at him to make him release her, but he wouldn’t. ‘Jimbo!’
Jimbo still gripping her arm said, ‘Sorry about this, Peter, just ignore her. Come along, Mother. Lunch, right now. Please.’
Grandmama, furious at Jimbo’s manhandling of her, tried again to thrust off his hand. Reluctantly he let go.
Peter feeling genuinely upset said quietly in his saddest voice, ‘Mrs Charter-Plackett, I’ve longed for those bells to ring, and to have found someone willing to provide the money for their restoration, seemed
heavensent, and I want them to ring for many many years to come. They proclaim the message of the church in a supremely special way. I wouldn’t be surprised if they can hear them as far away as the bypass. There can’t be anyone alive who fails to be touched in one way or another by the sound of church bells.’ He smiled down at her. ‘So you do see the wider implications of our bells don’t you? They’re for the world to hear, not just for us, are they not?’
Jimbo, his lips pressed together, his face white with temper, waited for her reply. He swore if she still objected after Peter’s impassioned plea, he would personally throtle her out here on the Green in front of everyone, because despite her revelations to him, he really couldn’t take any more of her aggravating ways.
Harriet, trying hard to be kinder like she’d promised she would, laid her hand on Jimbo’s arm to comfort him and waited in hope.
Grandmama looked up at the splendid young man that was Peter: six feet five, with his halo of red-blond hair, and his all-seeing bright blue eyes, and that special charisma that was his and his alone, and decided she wouldn’t, indeed couldn’t, call in her favour. Couldn’t disappoint him.
She smiled at him and said, ‘My dear Peter.’ She swallowed hard. ‘My dear Peter, put like that how could I object to such a wonderful witness. You’re quite right, the whole world needs reminding of what you stand for.’ She patted his arm and turned to Jimbo saying with an imperious note in her voice, ‘Lunch, I think you said, well come along then, the children will be home before us. Don’t dilly-dally.’
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 1999 by Orion.
This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books.
Copyright © Rebecca Shaw 1999
The right of Rebecca Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Scandal in the Village Page 24