‘I couldn’t, not in front of …’
Peter placed a finger on her lips to silence her, took her hand in his, kissed the palm and then pressed her hand against his cheek. ‘Neither could I. Come what may, I shall still be here, like I promised on our wedding day, unto eternity and beyond. Now let’s enjoy looking at what you’ve found.’
As he picked up the first photograph the door bell rang. He stood up abruptly. ‘You answer it, I’m not in. The car’s in the garage, they’ll never be any the wiser.’
Caroline lurched downstairs, distressed and bewildered, and answered the door. Standing on the step looking contrite was Hugo.
His eyes looked her over, noting her old cotton shorts and the sleeveless tee shirt she wore and then came back to her face. She looked worn, like the shorts, and bleached white like the shirt. What had she been through to make her look like this? Was his leaving the cause of it?
‘Peter must have told you, then?’
‘What?’
‘That I’m off to London.’
‘Oh! Yes.’
‘I’ll be back tomorrow. Hamlet. I’ve had an offer to play Hamlet and I can’t turn it down. Can I come in?’
Caroline opened the door wider. ‘Of course, be my guest.’
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
‘I’m delighted, absolutely delighted. Very, very, pleased for you. I shall expect a ticket.’
Hugo took her hand and held it against his cheek saying, ‘Of course. And for Peter and Jimbo and Harriet too.’
‘Thank you, I’ll look forward to that very much indeed.’
There was a slight tremor in her voice and Hugo raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes? Miss me?’
‘Of course. Dark Rapture is all right then, even so?’
‘Of course. I couldn’t let you down, not my Caroline.’
‘Thank you. It will make it all the more exciting, won’t it?’
Still holding her hand, Hugo said, ‘Darling!’ The whole of her being clamoured for the thrill of his touch. He drew her into the study and kicked the door shut behind them with his heel. In a gesture reminiscent of Leonard in the play, he put his hand at the nape of her neck and drew her towards him. ‘Darling Caroline!’ The longed for kiss was deeper and more meaningful than they had ever experienced before. Her blood was pounding in her throat, her knees weak, and her body craved him. When they’d finished Hugo took in a deep breath and stepped back, releasing her as though he was almost afraid of the emotions he had stirred in her.
‘Must go. Long way to drive. See you when I get back. Sorry about that just now, couldn’t help myself.’
‘Don’t apologise. It was me as much as you.’
Gratefully Hugo asked, ‘Was it?’
‘Oh yes. Safe journey, and I’ll be waiting your return, and want to hear all your news.’
‘Thank you. That makes it very certain I shall be back, knowing you’re waiting.’ He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand tightly. Fumbling behind him for the handle he opened the door, bunched his fingers, kissed them twice and left.
Caroline sat in Peter’s chair, leant her elbows on his desk and wept.
Chapter 13
‘Well, then, Pat, ’ave yer heard yet when yer dad’s case is coming up? Shouldn’t be long now.’
‘Not yet, it hangs over yer like a big black cloud, I wish they’d speed things up and get it out of the way. I’ll thank you not to mention it, I’m trying hard to forget.’
Jimmy offered to get her another drink.
‘Thanks, might as well. It’s when yer on yer uppers you know who yer friends are.’
‘I thought you’d stopped speaking to me after that row we ’ad about thieving. I was only trying to be fair.’
Pat half smiled. ‘I know yer were Jimmy, but it didn’t half hurt.’ She paused. ‘Old Fitch is back soon.’
‘Is he indeed? Then yer should be hearing something. Be interesting to know who has the greater pull, yer dad or Jeremy. I reckon old Fitch could manage without Jeremy easier than he could without yer dad and Rhett and your Barry.’
Pat’s head came up with a jerk. ‘Without Barry? Is he getting the sack as well then?’
‘Oh! I’ve let the cat out of the bag. Sorry.’ He didn’t say any more, but busied himself instead with collecting Pat’s glass.
Pat laid a hand on her glass to stop him. ‘Just a minute, why should Barry lose his job?’
‘Didn’t yer know, he’s threatened to give his notice in if yer dad gets the order of the boot. Just trying to put some pressure on Jeremy, yer see.’
Pat stood up. ‘The fool. The absolute fool. The blessed idiot. As if we’re not in a bad enough state as it is. We’ll all be on the social if we don’t watch it. I’m going round to the Church Hall to give him a piece of my mind. Rehearsal or no rehearsal, he’s going to get it in the neck.’
‘Don’t bother. There isn’t one.’
‘Isn’t one? Then where’s Barry gone to, and Michelle?’
‘I understand that Hugo’s done a runner.’
Pat sat down again. ‘A runner?’
‘Gone up to London, got the offer of Hamlet at Stratford and he’s hopped it.’
Vera slapped her glass down on the table. ‘Evening all. What’s up Pat, just had yer purse pinched? Cheers.’ She raised her glass to her friend.
‘Hugo’s done a runner. The play’s off.’
Vera began to laugh. At first it was a slow chuckle then it turned into a gasping staccato laugh, then a rip-roaring guffaw.
Pat couldn’t laugh with her. ‘To be honest, Vera, I don’t know what’s so funny. They’ve all put such effort in, it simply isn’t fair of him. In fact I’m downright disappointed in him. It’s mean and thoughtless ’opping off like that.’ Pat nudged Vera with a sharp elbow. ‘Just stop it, will yer, they’re all looking.’
Vera endeavoured to pull herself together. She mopped her eyes, coughed to clear her throat and said loudly, ‘That’s one in the eye for Mrs Jones, anyway. That’ll have taken the wind out of her sails and not half, serves her right after the way she treated me. I haven’t laughed so much in years.’
‘You might find it funny but no one else does.’
‘I know, but all them costumes she’s made. What a laugh.’
Jimmy stood up to get Pat another drink. ‘Don’t mind admitting he’ll cut a fine figure in them tights and that on the stage. He’ll make a handsome Prince of Denmark.’
Vera scoffed at him. ‘Hark at ’im! Gone all classical, ’ave yer? Surprising what an effect that Hugo’s had on this village.’
‘It is,’ Pat agreed and counted off on her fingers the people he’d most affected. ‘Us probably being made homeless into the bargain. Your Don willing to let yer go to prison, who’d have thought that of him, ’im without a word for the cat. The rector in a right state over ’im. Dr Harris coming over all peculiar about ’im. Our Dean losing his scholarship, there’s no doubt about that. You, Vera, in a stew about prison. The list is endless. Sooner he goes the better, I think.’
Vera sprang to his defence. ‘Oh, I don’t know. He’s lovely. I could buy a ticket for Stratford just for the pleasure of seeing ’im in tights. He’ll strip something gorgeous, I bet. Yer can forgive a man like ’im an awful lot. All them lovely costumes, too.’ Vera stared into the distance thinking about her life and where it was going, and about Don. If only …
As though able to read her thoughts, Pat said, ‘Well, begging your Don’s pardon, he hasn’t exactly a figure to die for, has he? Not meaning anything disrespectful like, but seeing as we’re letting our hair down, he’s not like my Barry.’
‘But then your Barry’s at least ten years younger. Though, come to think of it, even ten years ago Don didn’t look like him. No, it could almost be said I’ve made a big mistake with Don. There’s something to be said for living with someone, isn’t there?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Look at your Brenda, for a start. I wouldn’t just have lived with
Barry, I’ve got my children to think of. I want to keep their respect. It’s not decent when you’ve got kids.’
‘It must be lovely going ’ome to a handsome man, though.’ Vera traced a pattern on the table with her finger and then asked, ‘What was yer first husband like?’
‘Useless. He did us all a good turn when he died. Lifting his elbow too often was his problem.’
‘Can’t say that about Don, that is one thing he doesn’t do. I just wish he’d brighten up, though. Sparkle a bit, yer know. Your Barry’s got plenty of sparkle, hasn’t he?’
Barry arrived in time to answer before Pat could get a word in. ‘He has, Vera, enough and to spare! What can I do for you, Vera?’
Vera giggled. ‘Oh! Hark at him! Nothing, thanks, I’m off. Back to the ironing. I just wish he’d wear something exciting. I’ve been ironing his baggy underpants for over thirty years. Just like him they’ve got bigger and baggier as the years ’ave gone by. Ah well.’
Vera left Barry and Pat on their own; Jimmy was caught up in an argument at the bar.
Pat stroked Barry’s arm. ‘I’m so lucky. Poor Vera. Which reminds me, where’s our Michelle? And if you knew there was no rehearsal, why did the two of you set off together as if there was?’
‘There’s something I have to tell you. Don’t fly off the handle will yer?’
‘How do I know if I will or not?’
‘You don’t, but don’t anyway. Michelle has gone to the cinema in Culworth with Rhett. I took ’em in the car.’
‘You let her?’
Barry nodded.
‘What were yer thinking of?’
‘Two young people enjoying each other’s company. She’s got to grow up sometime and Rhett’s promised to take care of her.’
‘Has he indeed. I shall have something to say to her when she gets back. Cinema indeed, with a boy Rhett’s age.’
‘No, you won’t Pat, you’ll ask her how she enjoyed herself and what the film was like, and that’s all.’
‘She’s my daughter and I’ll …’
‘She’s mine too, now I’ve adopted her. I’ve vetted the film and talked to her about going out with Rhett, and I’ve told him she’s precious and there’s to be no hanky panky.’
‘So that’s something else we can lay at Hugo’s door.’
‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘If he hadn’t come Rhett and our Michelle would never have got it together.’ Pat calmed down until she remembered the other bone she had to pick with her husband. ‘So what’s this about putting your job in jeopardy by threatening to resign over Dad?’
Barry looked uncomfortable. ‘Just a try to help your dad, but it didn’t work. So it’s plan B now.’
‘Look, Barry, this weekend is important to Jimbo, if it goes wrong there’ll be none of us in work, and then where will we be?’
‘Leave it all to me, my darlin’. Barry’s in charge.’
With a slightly sarcastic note in her voice, Pat replied, ‘Is he? Oh, well then. I understand the gorgeous lover boy has done a bunk.’
‘Back tomorrow.’
Pat raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘That right?’
‘The Rector got him to see sense.’
‘Thank heavens for that. Our Michelle would have been heartbroken if he’d cancelled it. She thinks the sun shines out of his … you know what.’
‘She’s not the only one.’
‘Yer mean Dr Harris.’
‘I do. If I’d been the Rector I’d have let him go without a word. Glad to see the back of him.’
Pat giggled. ‘Couldn’t see you as a Rector! Heaven ’elp us!’
Barry laughed his agreement. ‘Nor you as the Rector’s wife! I’ve got Rhett and Michelle to collect. Coming with me?’
‘Yes, I will.’
The first act in Barry’s campaign to have the court action dropped was to head a delegation to the estate office. In Pat’s opinion this was a pointless exercise, but Barry insisted that it was what they should do first of all. He checked with the secretary to make sure Jeremy would be in and assembled Greenwood, Rhett and Vera at the Big House as the stable clock struck two.
They’d agreed to see Jeremy in their working clothes and gave all the appearance of earnest people of the soil. As Greenwood said, a bit of kowtowing never did anyone any harm so long as they knew they were doing it, though he drew the line at touching his cap.
Jeremy had enjoyed a large, fattening lunch in the dining room at the small table reserved for senior management, and was contemplating a Mars bar to round it off when the secretary rang through to say that he had visitors. Reluctantly the chocolate was returned to the bottom drawer of his desk and he put on a welcoming smile. It swiftly left his face when he saw whom his visitors were.
‘Yes?’ he asked abruptly.
Barry, chosen to make the initial speech, took half a pace forward and cleared his throat.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Mayer. I am well aware that you have already spoken to all of us in turn concerning this matter of the crazy paving and such, but we are making this last appeal to you before the court case and asking you to withdraw the charges …’ Jeremy attempted to interrupt, but Barry held up a commanding hand. ‘Let me finish, please. Even a condemned man has a right to be heard. Everything has been returned to the estate and Vera, as you know, is more than willing to pay for the paving and the cement which was used for her patio. We feel sure that Mr Fitch …’ at the mention of his employer’s name, Barry swore he saw Jeremy shiver ‘does not want to put himself in bad odour with the village yet again. In the past he’s trifled with people’s opinions to his cost and a further confrontation would do him no good at all. Therefore in his interest we have come to suggest – only suggest at this stage, you understand – that in Mr Fitch’s interest and your own you inform the police that the charges are dropped. Mr Fitch need know nothing at all about it.’ Barry stepped back and waited.
During the speech Jeremy Mayer had fiddled with his pen, straightened his tie, gone red, gone white, begun to sweat and then reassembled his confidence. After a short pause he declared, ‘Mr Fitch is behind me in this. I have his full support. We are sick and tired of the thieving that goes on.’ He thumped the desk with his fist as the assembly began to protest. ‘No, don’t deny it. He is intent on putting a stop to it. I had my instructions before he left and I’m carrying them out to the letter. I will not be moved. You’re not the only ones who’ve been to try to change my mind, and I haven’t and I shan’t.’
Vera piped up with, ‘Who’s been to see you besides us, then?’
‘Jimbo Charter-Plackett and …’
‘Yes?’
‘The Rector.’
Greenwood was shocked. ‘You mean the Rector’s been and you still haven’t changed your mind? That’s a first. He can charm a monkey out of a tree, he can. You must be rotten through and through not to do as he asked.’
Angry, Jeremy spluttered, ‘I have my orders.’
Barry, also angry, replied, ‘Your trouble is you’re scared, running scared of old Fitch. Well, if that’s how matters stand and you’re not going to shift then we know what to do next.’
Heaving himself to his feet, Jeremy, furious that Barry had found his Achilles’ heel, shouted, ‘I will not be moved on this! The case goes ahead no matter what. When Mr Fitch gets back you’ll see, he’ll back me to the hilt. Now, please leave.’
‘Oh, we will. But you’ve not heard the last of this, believe me. We’ve other moves up our sleeves. One way or another, we shall win.’
The four of them left the office and didn’t speak until they were out on the gravel car park.
His eyes blazing with missionary zeal, Barry said forcibly, ‘Well then, it’s stage two. We’ve got him shaking in his shoes, believe me. Old Fitch gets back next Thursday, dress rehearsal night. His weekend party arrives Friday and it’s the first night of the play – bit awkward, that, so it’ll have to be early teatime. Do we know what time they’re
expected?’
Greeenwood said he didn’t, not exactly, but the domestic staff and the secretary would know and he’d find out for sure.
‘Right then, we’ll all be in touch. I’ll muster the troops. You, Rhett, know what you’ve to do, seeing as you’re not working. I’ll get you the materials. Wood, nails, et cetera. Right?’
Rhett grinned and shook his head. ‘Tut tut! I don’t know, pinching from the estate. It’s criminal it is.’
They all laughed. Barry offered Rhett and Vera a lift and they roared off down the drive in Barry’s old red van. Greenwood watched them go and wondered where it would all end. He couldn’t remember a job where he’d been happier. All those years with the Culworth Parks Department when he’d laboured away at the daily grind and thought he was fulfilled, but the satisfaction of working at Turnham House! Now that was something. His own master, a lovely home, his glasshouses, his flowers, the vegetables! Row upon row, bursting with life and beauty. And not just the gardens themselves but the people he worked with, too; loyal and hard working and happy. What a team. But, by the looks of it, it was all going to be snatched away. Life just wasn’t fair. He turned on his heel and walked across the gravel back to his work. As he reached what he considered to be his very own part of the estate he paused to enjoy the sight of the bright splash of colour made by the Busy Lizzies flowering abundantly along the foot of the mellow terracotta red walls of his kitchen garden and his heart grew heavy.
Damn that Jeremy for his shortsightedness. Damn him!
Jeremy did feel damned. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. But Mr Fitch’s wrath was his worst fear. A pack of village people with scarcely a brain between them couldn’t compare with the kind of wrath Mr Fitch was capable of. One scathing look from his employer and he, Jeremy Mayer, was reduced to jelly.
He reached down into the desk’s bottom drawer and rustled about in the rubbish for a Mars bar. As he sank his teeth into it he relished for the third time that day the thought that a Mars bar always met his expectations: each and every one more faithful, more reliable than any lover could ever be. In the midst of his pleasure, without so much as a knock, the door opened and in walked Venetia.
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