Village Gossip

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘But who the blazes in this village can act? Even more to the point, who the blazes would we get to direct?’ This from Harriet who, despite Jimbo’s warning, really longed for Hugo’s help.

  ‘Exactly. Who? Not me for a start.’

  Peter looked at Caroline in surprise. ‘Not you? But you did lots at Medical School and at school. Portia, wasn’t it? And lots more which won’t spring to mind.’

  ‘We’ll see. It’s all so long ago. And there’s the children. Baby-sitting and that. I can’t always rely on you with your meetings and things.’

  Peter patted her hand. ‘Don’t you fret about that. Sylvia and Willie would gladly sit in, as you well know.’

  Jimbo, realising how much Peter wanted Caroline to be involved, agreed. ‘Our boys are getting big enough to be left for a while looking after the girls, so long as we’re not too far away. So between us we’d manage something. Rest assured.’

  Peter flashed him a look of gratitude. ‘It’s settled then, a play we shall do. A serious play, not some amateurish cobbled together thing, but a real play.’ He raised his glass and invited them to join him in a toast.

  ‘To the play and the players.’

  ‘That sounds terribly grand. When shall we have the inaugural meeting?’ Harriet asked.

  Caroline parried Harriet’s question with one of more immediate importance to herself. ‘When shall we be introduced to Hugo Maude?’

  ‘At church on Sunday, if he’s well enough. He never misses. Finds the whole thing movingly dramatic.’ Harriet apologised to Peter. ‘His words, not mine.’

  ‘Sunday it is then.’ Caroline drained her glass and asked Peter for more. He refilled it, thrilled to have lighted upon something which he hoped would fill Caroline’s heart and mind and above all give her faith in her future.

  Caroline stood gazing at him, dumbstruck. He was lean, too lean really, with a head of thick dark hair, left full at the sides which made for just a hint of curl above his beautifully shaped ears. He’d been introduced to Peter now and they were talking animatedly. There couldn’t have been a bigger contrast between two men. Hugo was shorter than Peter, but then with Peter being six feet five, most men were. Not only was he shorter than Peter he was also much more lightly built. One couldn’t imagine Hugo on a squash court or running three miles before breakfast like Peter did.

  Caroline couldn’t help but admire the profile which had been displayed on theatre billboards and in magazines and newspapers all over the world. Beautifully balanced, at once tender and arrogant, elegant and virile.

  She was being ridiculous. At her age, swooning over an actor! Come on.

  Harriet tapped her arm. ‘I’ve never seen you so excited by a man. You’ve usually only eyes for Peter.’

  Caroline looked at Peter and then back at Hugo. ‘I can admire from a distance, can’t I? After all, he is famous. You can see he’s under strain.’

  ‘He’s been very, very ill. And I mean ill. It was a case of “will he or won’t he?” at one stage. Lost a stone and a half in weight. It’s left him very feeble.’

  ‘I see.’ By now Hugo was talking to Sheila Bissett, whose face was almost the colour of the dreadful purple hat she was wearing for church this summer. Above the babble of the congregation gathered about the church porch, Caroline heard Sheila say, ‘Well, of course, you must come to one of my coffee mornings. It may only be a small village but we do know how to do things proper.’

  This offer was greeted with enthusiasm by Hugo. ‘My dear Lady Bissett, of course I shall be delighted to attend. It will be the highlight of my social whirl.’ Hugo looked across at Harriet and made his excuses to Lady Bissett.

  ‘Oh! he’s coming over. I’ll introduce you.’

  Her eyes fixed on Hugo, Caroline muttered, ‘I feel ridiculously nervous. Perhaps I shouldn’t.’

  Harriet did the honours and stood back a little to watch. Hugo took hold of Caroline’s hand and raised it to his lips.

  ‘My dear Caroline, what a privilege.’ His voice, more suited to Stratford than Turnham Malpas, turned Caroline’s knees to jelly. This gesture of his, this kissing of her hand and the holding of it for longer than was really necessary brought the eyes of the entire congregation to rest on her.

  She blushed, and she hadn’t blushed for years. When in her consulting room, people confided in her the most intimate details of their lives and she never batted an eyelid, never blushed, never ever. And yet here she was behaving like an empty-headed teenager.

  ‘How do you do? I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been so ill. We’ll have to hope that the peace and quiet here will …’

  ‘I shan’t hasten to get well, not with charming people like you in the village.’ Caroline appeared to have been pole-axed.

  Harriet felt the need to intervene. ‘Caroline’s a doctor.’

  ‘In that case, if I’m taken ill I shall be able to rely on you to cool my fevered brow.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, you see …’

  Hugo dismissed her hesitation with a sweeping gesture of his hand. ‘I won’t hear of you refusing to come to my aid. I cannot forgo the thrill of your stethoscope pressed to my manly chest.’ There were muffled giggles from someone way behind him and Caroline blushed even redder.

  ‘I was going to say that it’s not medical etiquette for me to attend another doctor’s patient.’

  Hugo struck a pose, one hand on his heart and the other clasping his forehead. ‘Not even in an emergency! Am I cast out from all medical assistance to die miserably and alone for the sake of etiquette?’ The last word, delivered with passion, and loud enough to wake Jimmy’s geese on the village pond, fell on the delighted ears of the entire congregation. It had been some time since they had enjoyed so much free entertainment.

  Harriet, catching the appalled expression in Jimbo’s eyes, said abruptly, ‘For heaven’s sakes, Hugo, you’re not that ill. Come on home, the children need feeding. Help me round them up.’

  Hugo gave Caroline a huge wink, bunched his fingers, kissed them and trotted meekly after his friend.

  With his mother on his arm Jimbo passed close by Caroline as Hugo left. Jimbo’s mother wore severe disapproval across every inch of her perfectly made-up face. She and Caroline had long ago patched up their differences but it appeared that in one brief moment of time their friendship had been shattered. With a sharp nod of recognition replacing her normally gracious conversation she swept by. Jimbo raised his eyes to heaven and shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

  The congregation began to disperse. Peter had disappeared inside to remove his surplice, Willie was waiting to lock up, the twins were chasing each other among the gravestones and Caroline realised it was time she remembered her duty.

  ‘Alex, Beth! Come quickly now! We’ll get the kettle on, Daddy will be wanting his coffee.’

  ‘Mummy! That man kissed you.’

  ‘Yes, Beth, he did.’

  ‘What will Daddy say?’

  Ever at the ready to pour scorn on Beth’s statements, Alex replied, ‘Daddy won’t mind. After all, he only kissed her hand.’

  ‘I know, but he shouldn’t. He’s cheeky. She’s my Mummy.’ Beth squeezed hold of Caroline’s hand and kissed it herself.

  ‘And she’s mine, and I say he can kiss her hand.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. I shall ask Daddy if he minds.’

  ‘No, darling, don’t do that. Mr Maude is an actor and they’re inclined to be a bit …’

  ‘Bit what?’

  ‘Well, they’re inclined to exaggerate everything. They go a bit over the top.’

  Alex studied this statement while Caroline unlocked the Rectory door. ‘It was only your hand. So it’s nothing really.’

  ‘You went ever so red, Mummy.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes, you did. Red like a beetroot.’

  ‘Thanks. Do you both want coffee, or orange, or what?’

  While they argued with each other as to what they would have Caroline fille
d the kettle and began to get out the mugs. She heard the front door slam. ‘Ready for coffee?’

  ‘Please.’ Caroline turned to look at Peter. He was standing in the kitchen doorway looking at her. Her heart flipped. She loved him so. Compared with Hugo ridiculous Maude he was a gem. His wonderful thatch of red-blond hair, his vivid blue eyes, his fair skin, the width of his shoulders, his energy and his love for mankind, all set her trembling with love for him.

  Beth pulled out a chair. ‘Sit next to me, Daddy. I’m having coffee too, Mummy, please.’

  ‘And me!’ Alex pulled out a chair the other side of Peter and sat on it. ‘Daddy! Did you know that Mr Maude is an actor?’

  ‘He is indeed. I’ve seen him once, a long time ago. In London. In Macbeth’

  ‘What’s Macbeth?’

  ‘A play by Shakespeare.’

  ‘Was he good?’

  ‘Oh yes, very impressive. In fact very good indeed, I think the best I’ve seen.’

  ‘Mummy says actors behave like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Kissing people and that.’

  ‘Yes, they do. Very emotional they are.’ Peter looked up at Caroline and winked as she handed him his coffee.

  She had to laugh. ‘He really did make me feel a fool.’

  ‘I could see that. This coffee’s welcome. What shall we do this afternoon? Do we have any plans?’

  Hugo’s plan to retire to his bedroom and lie down for the rest of the afternoon suited everyone. Harriet, because she’d had more than she could take of him at the lunch table; Jimbo, because Hugo had grated on his nerves and he was forced to admit to a tinge of jealousy which didn’t sit easily on his shoulders; the children, because they couldn’t get a word in edgeways as he wouldn’t stop talking; and Grandmama, because she knew he spelt trouble with a capital T.

  ‘Have you two girls finished? If you have your Grandmama has something for you in her handbag which you can take into the sitting room and play with.’

  Five-year-old Fran jumped up and down with excitement. Flick, at twelve, recognised the subterfuge and wished she couldn’t see through her Grandmama’s every move. But it would only be boring conversation about Hugo and the threat he posed to one and all, so she might as well fall for it. ‘Lovely, Grandmama. Come along, Fran.’ They retired with some magic tricks in little plastic bags, leaving the field clear for Grandmama’s tirade.

  ‘That man …’

  Jimbo hastily said to his son, ‘Fergus, close that door just in case.’ When Fergus had reclaimed his chair, his Grandmama continued. ‘That man is a charlatan, a chameleon and a sham. The sooner he leaves this house the better.’

  Finlay chuckled. ‘Wow! You’re getting quite poetic, Grandmama.’

  He received a withering glance. ‘This is not a laughing matter, young man. Jimbo! You must get rid of him.’

  Jimbo caught Harriet’s eye and acknowledged the warning in them. ‘As a matter of fact I quite like the chap. In any case, Mother, it’s up to Harriet and me who stays in our house. He poses no threat here.’

  ‘No threat? You must be blind.’ She thumped the table with her clenched fist. ‘Blind! He wants kicking out. Convalescing indeed. More like out of work or, as they euphemistically call it in the acting profession, resting.’

  Finlay chuckled again. ‘He is.’

  ‘He is what?’

  ‘Resting.’ He pointed to the ceiling. Grandmama, as he was well aware, didn’t have much of a sense of humour. She snorted. ‘Sometimes you talk in riddles.’

  ‘Mother-in-law! He almost died he was so ill. He lives alone, he needs a family to care for him. Don’t worry. Before long he’ll get an offer he can’t refuse, he’ll go dashing off and we shan’t see him again for years. He’s a close friend of Jimbo’s, isn’t he, darling?’ Jimbo nodded. ‘And of mine too. It’s the least we can do.’

  ‘Jimbo! Are you head of this house or not?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then take my word for it, he is trouble. If you’ll excuse me I’ll be off now. I have two friends coming for afternoon tea and I need to get organised.’ She collected her handbag and offered her cheek for Jimbo to kiss. ‘Cast this viper out from your bosom, Jimbo. Listen to your mother for once. Bye bye, Harriet. Thank you for yet another delightful lunch, I do look forward to Sunday lunch with you all. Bye bye, boys.’ She opened the dining-room door, went through it and then came back in. ‘And another thing. Caroline Harris had no business to let him kiss her hand. Disgraceful behaviour outside church, with everyone watching. She blushed like a schoolgirl. I expect Peter will have something to say to her about that and no mistake.’

  On summer Sunday evenings Peter and Caroline had dinner together after Peter returned from Evensong. With the children tucked up in bed they enjoyed an intimate meal, which Caroline always took a great deal of care over. The wine had been chilled, the steak was almost ready, the sauce bubbled very gently in the pan and the vegetables were already in the tureens in the oven keeping warm, when she heard Peter’s key in the door.

  ‘I’m back and I’m seriously in need of sustenance.’

  ‘So am I! I’ve opened the wine. Won’t be a moment.’

  Peter came into the kitchen. He’d removed his cassock and was wearing his dark trousers and clerical collar with a grey short-sleeved shirt.

  ‘Take your collar off, you look hot.’

  He undid his back stud and peeled off his collar, placing it with the stud on top of the fridge freezer. ‘Quite a lot there tonight.’

  ‘Makes a change.’

  ‘It does indeed. Just as I begin to think I shall suggest finishing with Evensong I get a good congregation and I have a rethink.’

  Caroline gave Peter a cloth. ‘Here, take the vegetables in. I’ve served the meat straight onto the plates.’

  Peter put down the tureens on the dining table and picked up the bottle of wine. ‘Where on earth did this wine come from? Chile! Oh my word.’

  ‘If there’s one person I don’t like it’s a wine snob.’

  ‘Sorry! You’re quite right. If I like it, what does it matter where it comes from.’

  ‘Maybe you had a big congregation because they all hoped Hugo Maude would appear.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t.’

  ‘I’m in trouble because of him.’

  He looked up, his mouth full of steak, and mumbled, ‘Why?’

  ‘Grandmama Charter-Plackett doesn’t approve of me any longer because of what happened outside church.’

  ‘No wonder.’

  ‘Living in an ancient village like this one, they can get too … what’s the word I’m looking for?’

  ‘Don’t know. Shall I finish the peas?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t want any more. Too narrow minded. In fact, almighty prim. They need their horizons widening. All he is, is a bit of fun. Liven us all up. I hope he stays for a while.’

  ‘So do I. But, darling, please be very circumspect won’t you? Rector’s wife and all that.’

  Caroline put down her knife and fork, drank a little of her wine and muttered, ‘Here we go again.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said, “Here we go again.”’

  ‘Sorry, but you know …’

  ‘I know. By the way I’m going back to work as soon as I can get a job. I’ve decided. General practice. I like that best.’

  He restrained himself from being protective, there was nothing more sure to make her go ahead finding a job than him putting the brakes on her. ‘That’s a good idea, darling, you must be feeling better.’

  ‘I can hear the disapproval in your voice, but I am feeling better and it’s ridiculous for an intelligent woman of my years with my professional qualifications not to be using them.’

  ‘Of course. I quite agree. But Sylvia’s cut down her hours. How will you cope?’

  Caroline said, ‘I wouldn’t be full time, not like I was when the twins first went to playgroup. Probably just filling in for sickness and the l
ike.’

  ‘Well, that might be different then. You could do, say, three full days.

  ‘Well, I haven’t got a position yet so we’ll wait and see.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’ve been so ill.’ He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘I’ve only just got my confidence back about the chances of your survival. It has been a dreadfully challenging time for my faith, your illness.’

  Caroline gripped his hand. ‘I know, darling, I know. But I am well and, touch wood, I’m definitely here to stay. OK?’

  ‘And the children, they haven’t been the easiest of offspring, have they? Will you manage, do you think?’

  ‘They take after their father, don’t they?’

  Peter pretended to scowl. ‘Hey, less of that!’

  Caroline laughed. ‘Well, they do. Alex is so like you in his ways, and Beth just follows whatever he does. When I think of your stories about what you got up to when you were a boy, he’s going to be just like that.’

  Peter answered her abruptly. ‘I would have preferred it if you’d spoken with me first, before you decided.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Going back into practice.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve just told you now. You knew what I would be doing. I should have gone back long ago. How long have I had off? A year? No, more than that. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. You don’t have to work. If you want to be at home then at home you will be. I love it. You being at home.’

  Caroline went to stand behind his chair and put her arms around his shoulders resting her cheek on his. ‘Peter! I know you do, but there isn’t enough for me to do.’

  ‘There is, now Sylvia is doing fewer hours.’

  ‘The children don’t need me like they did. Not like when they were tiny.’

  ‘I see. You’ve exhausted the mother bit so now you can wander off footloose and fancy free.’

  Caroline, shocked by his attitude, drew away from him. ‘That is absolutely uncalled for and quite untrue. You’ve upset me.’

  Peter stood up and went to look out of the window.

  ‘I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m ashamed of myself.’