Harriet turned on him. ‘You may well ask.’ She pointed a shaking finger at Hugo who was sitting on the bottom step. ‘That … snake in the grass is leaving.’
‘Leaving? What’s he done? I’ll kill ’im first and ask questions afterwards, shall I?’ Jimbo’s face flushed an ugly red.
Harriet shook her head. Arms akimbo she said scornfully, ‘Tell Jimbo, then. Go on, tell him.’
Hugo, in a short speech full of self justification, told him why he was leaving.
Jimbo could scarcely contain his anger. In a cold fury, the like of which Hugo had never seen before, ashen-faced and visibly shaking with temper, Jimbo clenched and unclenched his fists, his lips set in a thin mean line. ‘You misbegotten, arrogant, base, self-seeking low life. How can you leave everyone in the lurch like this? Have you any idea how much people are banking on you? You’ve come here, stirred us all up, agreed to produce the play, only a week to go and you do this to us all?’ Jimbo strode over to Hugo and, grasping the front of his shirt, hauled him to his feet. ‘I’ve a good mind to ruin your good looks once and for all. Then see where you’d stand as Hamlet. You’d be more fit for a second rate Richard the Third when I’d finished with you. You’re despicable!’ He unceremoniously released his hold on Hugo’s shirt front and maliciously watched him clutch the newel post to keep his balance.
Hugo gathered about him the remnants of his self respect; physical violence always terrified him. ‘That’s rich, that is. I’m supposed to give up the opportunity of a lifetime for a village play? Come on! Be fair!’
Jimbo, his anger spent, stood surveying him silently. Harriet burst into tears. ‘I feel so responsible! It was me who asked you in the first place.’ Jimbo lent her his handkerchief.
‘I know who could take my place. Peter! With that amazing voice of his, he’d be wonderful. Better still, he’d be freed of all his angst.’
Harriet hurriedly wiped her eyes and said, ‘Angst? What exactly do you mean by that?’
Hugo shook his head. ‘Oh! Nothing.’
‘Explain yourself. Have you really given him cause for angst like they all say?’ Jimbo took a step towards Hugo. ‘I warned you!’
Striking a pose Hugo mockingly answered, ‘Me? The cause of it all? Me? Of course not. As if I would. But when all’s said and done, I’m going.’ He turned to go back upstairs.
Harriet remarked, ‘You’re feeling up to it, then?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘So staying here has done some good then?’
Hugo paused halfway up the stairs. ‘Certainly it has.’
‘You owe us all something then?’
‘You could say so.’
‘Well, repay your debt by staying and doing the play for us. There’s no way Peter can take up the part at such short notice, he isn’t an actor.’
From the top of the stairs Hugo looked down at her. ‘Oh, but he is! His oratory from the pulpit and his behaviour towards me, especially, prove otherwise. He’s doing an excellent job of being the supportive husband, the broad minded cleric, the gentle Christian, when underneath he’d like to beat me to a pulp and drag Caroline back to his cave. Believe me. Can’t talk now, got to pack.’
Jimbo discovered he was still wearing his boater. He took it off and smoothed his hand over his bald head. ‘Come here.’ He folded his arms around Harriet and rocked her slowly. ‘There, there. Don’t fret. We’ll have to cancel. It’s unfortunate but we shall. Old Fitch will be bitterly disappointed. He’ll go ballistic in fact, but he can’t do anything about it.’
‘Oh, Jimbo, they’ll all be so disappointed. I know I am. It’s heartbreaking.’
‘You’ve known for years what he’s like. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long.’
‘I shall never, never ask him here again. This is the end of a beautiful friendship.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘Jimbo, you are a baby!’
He gave her a tight squeeze. ‘I know, but I’m nice with it.’
‘For heaven’s sakes! At least you’re reliable.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘There. I’ll make a start on ringing everyone up. I can’t bear it. I just can’t. It’s all my fault, I should never have encouraged him.’
Jimbo tapped the side of his nose. ‘I have an idea. Don’t ring yet.’ He left the house.
The Store had been full of customers when Harriet had rung Jimbo, so the news that something serious was afoot at the Charter-Plackett’s had become the sole topic of conversation in his absence.
Linda, who’d answered the phone, avowed she knew nothing of what the trouble was, except that Jimbo had got the contract for catering for the garden parties at Buckingham Palace. That was all she knew, but wasn’t it exciting, they might all get an invite if they played their cards right.
Bel knew nothing either, except she was doubtful about the contract Linda mentioned.
Mrs Jones, who’d been concentrating hard on her mail orders which seemed to flow in ever faster, reluctantly confessed she knew nothing, except that by the tone of the conversation Linda had repeated to her it sounded as though Hugo Maude might have a lot to answer for.
Miss Senior, the woolly hat she wore summer and winter madly askew with the excitement, raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t think he’s been … you know … making lewd suggestions to Harriet? You know what actors are like. First one and then another.’ She rather relished the idea, and put her head on one side and winked knowingly.
Venetia Mayer was on red alert, her ears felt as though they’d grown to twice their size, and jealousy was getting the better of her.
One of the weekenders said, ‘I wouldn’t like to be in Hugo’s shoes if he has. I reckon that Jimbo has a nasty temper when it comes to a showdown.’
Linda agreed. ‘He was very nasty to me once, gave me my notice. Very sarcastic he was. Mind you, he soon took me back when he found he couldn’t manage without me.’
Bel said bluntly, ‘Don’t overestimate your value to him, Linda. He’s clever enough to learn your job in half a day.’
‘Huh! Half a day? I should cocoa. It’s taken me years to get it under my belt.’
Bel looked askance at her and Linda retired behind the grille, hurt and indignant.
Reluctantly Miss Senior left the Store but the little brass bell on the door had hardly settled into silence before she was back in again. ‘The Rector’s just gone across to Jimbo’s, and Jimbo’s coming here. Watch out!’ Determined to hear all the news, Miss Senior pretended to be having difficulty choosing a birthday card.
The door bell jangled furiously as Jimbo slammed the door shut behind him. He surveyed the scene. Not a limb moved, not an eye met his. He smiled to himself, raised his boater, said, ‘Good morning, everyone’, straightened some peaches which had been tumbled into the apples by a careless customer, poured himself a coffee from the machine and, to their extreme annoyance, stepped quietly through into the back.
Peter had listened to Jimbo’s impassioned pleas and at first had declined to offer his services.
‘Look here, Peter, it’s no good me trying. I’ve already had him by the throat … well, not literally, but nearly. We go back a long way he and I, so he’s taking advantage of our friendship and I’m not having any effect. Please.’
Peter was staring out of the study window and didn’t reply.
‘Go over there, cassock and cross, the whole job and do your good Christian bit. It’ll work, I know it will. Please?’
Still Peter didn’t answer him. Jimbo stood waiting. Eventually Jimbo said, ‘I’ll be off, then. We feel so bad about it, Harriet and I. We’re completely to blame, you see. If we’d had any sense we’d have remembered his selfishness and never encouraged him to do the play in the first place. Thanks anyway.’ He waited a moment wondering whether to say what he had in his mind, and decided it needed saying. ‘Man to man, I can fully understand you not wanting him to stay.’ He opened the study door and closed it quietly after him, just as it clicked shut he heard Peter calling him back.
‘Jimbo! Does Caroline know?’
‘I shouldn’t think so, he’s only just had the phone call. Unless …’
‘No one’s rung here.’ Peter continued staring out of the window.
Jimbo felt himself dismissed. ‘I’ll be off then.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Peter went to the hall cupboard, took out his cassock and put it on. His cross he took from the pocket, placed the chain around his neck and tucked the cross itself into his leather belt. ‘There, will that do?’
‘Excellent. He’ll love the drama of it, he’s really into costume. Ooops, sorry! That didn’t come out quite right, I didn’t mean your cassock is a costume in the theatrical sense. I didn’t tell you he fancied you taking over his role.’
‘Did he.’ Peter called up the stairs, ‘Caroline, I’ve just got a visit to make, shan’t be long.’
Faintly they heard Caroline call, ‘OK. See you soon.’
Peter explained, ‘Tidying the attic.’
Jimbo nodded.
They had parted company by the pond, Jimbo heading back to the Store and Peter to see Hugo. He was standing by the wardrobe taking clothes off hangers and laying them on the bed. Peter tapped on the door. ‘Can I come in?’
Hugo was startled by Peter’s arrival. For a moment he’d remained silent, recollecting what Jimbo had said about Peter’s fitness and dreading any physical confrontation. Peter filled the doorway, his head bent to avoid the lintel, silent. Hugo had eventually said jokingly, ‘Jimbo’s brought in the heavy cavalry, has he?’
‘What’s this about you deserting your post?’
‘To be shot for cowardice in the face of …?’
‘No. For greed.’
‘Certainly not, the money matters not one jot.’
‘There are different kinds of greed.’
‘I know of only one.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘Sad? There’s nothing sad about me. I’m on the threshold of …’
‘No, you’re not, you’re beyond the threshold now.’
Hugo preened himself, for he adored praise. ‘Yes, you’re right I am.’
‘You’re so well established you could almost call any tune and they would dance to it, and well you know it.’ Peter moved some of the clothes and sat down on the bed. Hugo dumped them on the chair and sat beside him.
‘That’s right. I could.’
‘Then, Mr Hugo Maude, why are you leaving in such a hurry?’
Hugo didn’t answer.
‘Well?’
‘Got to go. Arrangements to which I have to agree. These theatrical people screw you for the last drop of blood, believe me. There’s no holds barred where contracts are concerned. Yes, must go.’
Peter raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘It’s not because you’ve suddenly realised that you’ll be taking part in a village play which will bring you no prestige whatsoever, which will not further your career, will not enhance your reputation and, if it got into the press, would make you look like someone who’s finally flipped his lid? That couldn’t be it, could it?’
Hugo shook his head indignantly.
Peter sighed. ‘Come now. The truth, just this once. Look inside yourself and speak to me with complete honesty. It won’t go outside these walls.’ Still Peter got no reply. ‘You see you can afford to do this thing. Someone still climbing the ladder couldn’t, but the great Hugo Maude could and if he faces up to it he’ll know he can. The press will be here like a shot once they know. I think, done right, it could be a superb publicity stunt.’
‘How?’
‘By explaining your motives for doing it. Be honest. Come right out with it all. Let them see the real Hugo Maude that’s behind the actor.’
‘Think so?’
‘Oh yes. Tell them about your close shave with a nervous breakdown, the exhaustion of acting to such high expectations every time you’re on stage, et cetera, et cetera. Such courageous honesty would be the headlines in every newspaper this side of the Atlantic and beyond.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes. Go up to London today. See whom you must and then come back tomorrow. Jimbo has a fax, and e-mail, you can be in touch all the time. What a gesture on your part. You never know, the play could get to the West End! You in the leading role, and with that story behind it, it would be a glorious success.’
Hugo’s face lit up at the prospect. ‘It would, wouldn’t it? There’s a bit of an air of Brief Encounter about it, isn’t mere? That kind of pure love. Yes, it might, it really might. Especially with the right publicity. Dark Rapture. Brilliant title!’
‘When do you expect rehearsals to start?’
The anticipation fell from his face and ambition took its place. ‘Three, four weeks’ time, but there’s all sorts of preliminary meetings and things. I can’t miss them.’
‘You’ll only miss the first week, and you must.’
‘Who says?’
‘I do. They’ll wait for you. Man of your stature.’
‘I’d rather hoped you’d step into my shoes and let me go with a clear conscience.’
‘Absolutely not. You and she have the right chemistry. Everyone can see that. The combination is quite explosive, and it’s not just in the play.’ Peter stood up and went to look out of the window.
Hugo gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Knowing that, you’ve come here to beg me to stay? Most men would press me to go and good riddance.’
‘Yes, of course they would. But I’m not most men. Sometimes these things have to run their course. It’s no good asking me to act. I’d be no good playing the part of her lover anyway. I love her too much for that, you see. The thought of even a fictional lover like Leonard feels like slow strangulation.’
Hugo studied Peter’s back view, for the moment lost for words. After a short silence he said softly, ‘You’ve made me feel very humble. You just have no idea how much I envy you for the privilege you have of loving like you do, so unselfishly, so profoundly. I think if I loved, it would be a jealous love, an all consuming love which in the end would eat up both the giver and the receiver.’
Peter turned back from the window and looked Hugo straight in the eye. ‘It doesn’t feel like a privilege at the moment.’
‘I can see that.’ The need for an apology became paramount. ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Hugo shook off his moment of perception and said, ‘I’ll go and I’ll be back tomorrow, that’s my promise to you. They’ll have to dance to my tune as you so rightly say.’
‘Crisis over then?’
Hugo nodded. ‘I’ll be here to do the play come hell or high water.’
‘This is just between us?’
‘Yes. Not a word shall I disclose.’
‘Nor me.’ Peter looked at him. ‘You’ll never regret doing this for the village, it has that kind of effect. Only good can come of it.’
When he returned to the Rectory he climbed the stairs looking for Caroline. He found her still in the attic, sitting on a small stool surrounded by their mementos.
‘Darling! Come and sit here and look at these with me. I keep finding fascinating things, things I’d forgotten all about. I’ll never get tidied up at this rate.’ She paused to clear a space for him to sit down and then realised how tired he looked. ‘What’s the matter? You look drained. Has something dreadful happened?’
Peter had no intention of revealing anything to her of his conversation with Hugo, so he simply remarked, ‘I’ve been persuading Hugo not to desert us. What have you found?’
She looked up amazed. ‘Why? Where was he going?’
‘To London and then Stratford to do Hamlet.’
Caroline demanded all the details. To his response she alternated between delight at his opportunity and shock at his cavalier treatment of their play.
‘You’ve definitely persuaded him to stay, then?’
‘No rehearsal tonight, but he’ll be back tomorrow.’
Carolin
e shuffled uncomfortably on her stool, torn between rushing over to see Hugo and not wishing Peter to realise how much she cared. ‘Are you certain he’ll come back?’
‘As sure as I can be.’
‘I can’t quite believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘How could he desert us all?’
‘Well, he isn’t, not now.’
‘Thank you, Peter.’ Caroline clasped his hand in hers. ‘I know you don’t … appreciate him, but I do and I’m sure you had far more chance of persuading him than I could ever have had.’
Peter blurted out, ‘I think you are deliberately understating your influence on him.’
Caroline paused to think about what he had said, realising that this was a turning point in the whole matter between the two of them. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘But you have already, haven’t you?’
The harsh note in his voice frightened her, and she bent her head to avoid his eyes, muttering almost inaudibly, ‘Peter, one. Caroline, nil.’
‘Don’t joke, please. I’m finding all this extremely hard to bear.’
‘I’m sorry to be causing you pain. I don’t quite know why it’s happening. Once the play is over …’
‘Then what? Status quo?’
‘I don’t even know that. Everything is all mixed up. I love both you and …’
‘Say it.’
Deliberately slowly and quietly, as though crystalising her feelings for the first time, she said, ‘I love you and am bewilderingly bewitched by Hugo all at the same time. I know he’s candy floss and you’re permanent and such a wonderful support to me, and most of all that you adore me and I should have gratitude for your love always …’
Peter snatched his hand from her grasp. ‘Please! Not gratitude! I can’t bear that.’
‘… yet I can’t shake off this fascination for him.’ She paused and then added sadly, ‘Sometimes the candy floss of life is very tempting.’
Peter painfully digested what she had told him and then, as a further challenge to her, declared, ‘He wanted me to step in and play Leonard.’
Caroline was appalled. Looking into his bleak face she protested, ‘Oh no, that would never do.’
‘That’s what I told him.’
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