The keys could wait.
After an uneventful lunch prepared by Caroline, during which they’d exchanged small talk and nothing more, Peter left for the hospital to visit Jeremy in intensive care.
Slumped in a chair beside his bed was Venetia. She leapt to her feet when she saw who their visitor was.
‘Oh, Peter!’ She made a hasty and useless attempt to tidy her hair, straighten her sweater, and generally pull herself together. He’d never seen her devoid of make-up, and seeing her now he realised just how devastated she must be about Jeremy’s brush with death.
‘I’m sorry I look such a mess, I’ve been here all night. It’s kind of you to come.’
‘Not at all. Any improvement yet?’
Venetia shook her head. ‘Still touch and go. He’s not conscious. Damn him!’
‘It wasn’t his fault!’
Venetia slumped back down in her chair and rubbed her hand across her face. ‘I know.’ Then she studied Jeremy laid there fastened up to all the paraphernalia of the seriously ill. Damn him! I’ve ignored his existence all the time we’ve been here. Laughed at him, scorned him, belittled him, taunted him … shamed him …’
‘Shamed him?’
Venetia looked up at Peter and he saw the conflict going on behind the weary eyes. ‘Yes, shamed him. I thought he didn’t care about me and had never noticed what I was up to, but all the time he had. All the time he knew about me … you know …’
‘No, I don’t know.’
Venetia looked surprised. ‘You mean that, don’t you?’
Peter nodded. Venetia reached forward and took hold of Jeremy’s hand, looking at him and not at Peter, she told him, ‘I’ve been unfaithful to him time and again. Time and again. This time is the last time, the very last time …’ She stopped abruptly, looked at Peter for a moment and then continued. ‘But if … when he comes out of this, I’m going to propose. I never knew until yesterday, when I thought he’d died and it was all too late, how much he meant to me. He’s been so loyal, despite everything I’ve ever done to him, a perfect gentleman all the time.’
‘I see.’
‘Together we’re going to beat this weight business. It’s comfort eating, you see, because he thought I didn’t love him when he loved me so much. He was right. Well, he wasn’t right, I did love him but I didn’t realise, you see. So his weight is my fault, and my fault alone.’ She patted the still hand and then looked at Peter. ‘Cruel is the only word to describe me. I’ve never felt so full of sin in all my life. Do you think God will ever forgive me?’
‘God always forgives those who truly regret what they have done.’
He saw hope in Venetia’s eyes. ‘Then He’s even greater than I thought if He can forgive me for what I’ve done to Jeremy.’
‘He is: greater than any of us can comprehend.’
Venetia pleaded with him. ‘Will you remember us in your prayers?’
‘Of course, we all will.’
‘I’ve been praying all night.’
‘Keep at it, he is still here.’
Still gripping Jeremy’s hand Venetia said, ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think. This last two years I’ve lived two lives. One at church and helping Kate with the youth club, and the other as the old Venetia, like I’ve always been. From now on there’s going to be only one Venetia. The nicest and best Venetia, living in the world you live in.’
Peter smiled. ‘The world I live in?’
‘Yes. I’m going to belong to that respectable, kind, loving world where you and Caroline live. A relationship that’s all crystal clear and straightforward with no intrigue and no confrontation. No pretence. No deceit. My world is going to be one where everything is in the open, no secrets, only truth.’
Peter, embarrassed by his marriage being held in such high esteem at this particular moment, simply touched her shoulder in sympathy murmuring, ‘I’m glad, so glad.’
Venetia, on the brink of tears, acknowleged his sympathy. ‘I’m jealous of the way you and Caroline love each other, do you know that? I’m going to try very hard to love like that. Strong and deep and loyal.’ She smiled sadly at him, her lips trembling.
To avoid betraying himself he made to leave.
‘Say a prayer for him and me before you go. Please.’
Peter took hold of Jeremy’s other hand, said a prayer and made the sign of the cross on Jeremy’s forehead and then on Venetia’s. ‘God bless you both.’ Before he let go of Jeremy’s hand he was almost sure he felt a very slight squeeze of his fingers.
Chapter 17
Although the play did not open until half past seven everyone involved was at the hall by six o’clock. First night nerves were very apparent, from the stage hands scurrying about checking and rechecking to Mrs Peel worrying about her music, from the actors themselves to Sheila Bissett fluttering around checking her flowers.
‘What do you think, Dr Harris, are they all right?’
‘They’re wonderful, Sheila, I told you so last night. Absolutely right. Even the vase.’
‘Hugo likes them, too, in fact he raved over them, so I suppose they must be. The dear man. He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?’ She tidied the angle of one of her gladioli then stood back and admired her arrangement. ‘So lovely, we shall miss him when he goes. You will too, I expect. Ron and I have been thinking of buying tickets for Stratford when he’s on. We’ve never been, ever. Do you think it would be a good idea?’
Caroline agreed it would, and would Sheila mind if she left her to it as her first night nerves were at breaking point.
Sheila turned to look at her. ‘Of course, off you pop, I’ve done here now anyway.’ She glanced round to see if anyone was within hearing distance and then whispered confidentially, ‘I don’t blame you at all for falling for him, you know. We all have. I’m quite envious of you.’ She gave Caroline a meaningful wink; a wink which bordered on lewd.
It served to categorise Caroline’s passion for Hugo at the lowest level imaginable. What had been fine and beautiful and fullfilling was reduced in a moment to tawdry and commonplace by Sheila’s gesture. She spun on her heel and went back to the minute dressing room she shared with Liz, Harriet and Michelle. All there was for her to sit on was a bathroom stool someone had brought from home. Caroline sat on it with her hands clenched, without speaking, letting the excited conversation of the other three swirl around her.
Harriet, knees bent so that she could see into the mirror she’d propped up on the narrow windowsill, broke off from combing her hair to admire Michelle’s dress. ‘Oh, that does look lovely! I’ll say this for her, your grandmother knows her stuff.’
Michelle pirouetted in front of them in the dress she would be wearing in the first act. ‘Just wish I felt as lovely as it looks! I don’t know what made me agree to do this. It’s not my scene at all. I’ve only kept going because Mum’s so thrilled at me having the chance.’
Harriet wagged her finger, ‘Who’s leg do you think you’re pulling! Rhett’s the draw and no wonder! I can’t believe he’s the same boy, young man I should say.’
Michelle blushed. ‘He is doing brilliantly, isn’t he?’
‘And so are you, isn’t she, Caroline?’
Caroline looked up. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t listening.’
‘And no wonder. You’re going to do really well too, you know. Don’t worry.’ Harriet gently hugged Caroline. ‘Hugo will see you through. He’s an old hand at this kind of thing.’
There came a loud rap on the door and, as it opened slightly, they heard Hugo saying, ‘Everyone respectable, can I come in?’
He cut such a dashing figure in his slacks, high at the waist in the nineteen twenties’ fashion, an open-necked shirt with a dark cravat at his neck and his hair sleeked down with gel, they quite forgot they’d seen him the previous night at the rehearsal dressed just like this. Somehow there was an extra vitality about him, an added buzz which made him larger than life. The small room seemed scarcely large enough to contain him.
&
nbsp; ‘All my favourite ladies prospering, are they?’ But his question was really aimed at Caroline and the other three knew it.
She fell under his spell immediately and began to glow. ‘We are.’
‘Excellent. Fifteen minutes to blast off. Good luck!’ He held Caroline’s eyes for a moment and smiled especially for her.
‘Good luck!’ The four of them called as he closed the door.
Caroline acted stupendously well that night. Her performance was way beyond anything she had ever expected of herself. Congratulations flooded in, from villagers, from the press, from friends. When she finally arrived home at the Rectory she was on a high.
‘Peter! Oh, Peter! It was brilliant! Marvellous! Wonderful! I can’t find words to describe how well it’s gone. Hugo is in his seventh heaven.’
Peter held his arms out wide and she went into them and he hugged her. ‘I’m so glad! I can’t wait to see it tomorrow night. I am prepared for being very impressed!’
She held her head away from his chest and looked up into his face. ‘Oh! Make no mistake, you’ll be impressed all right. We all of us acted our socks off! We really did. Michelle, Rhett, Liz, Neville, Harriet! The hall was full, every seat taken and the press were there, too,’ she thumped his chest in her excitement. ‘National and local! Hugo got them there in droves! What it is to be well known!’ She flung herself down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. ‘I’m desperately thirsty.’
‘Tell me what you fancy and it shall be yours.’
‘Water. Cold, cold water. A jug full!’
After she’d drunk two glasses she said, ‘We had one faux pas, that was all, but Hugo got us through it. There isn’t any wonder that he’s at the top of his profession! I can’t wait to see him in Hamlet. He’ll make a perfectly splendid one, I know. It’s only because of him that we’ve done so well. Thank God for Hugo!’
‘Indeed.’ Peter sat down in the other chair and fidgeted with his wedding ring. ‘I’m truly glad it went well, Mr Fitch will be glowing tomorrow night. He’s quite childish sometimes about how his money can achieve things. He said to me last night how impressed he was with Rhett Wright. He made it sound as though it was he, Craddock Fitch himself, who’d got Rhett to act so well.’
Caroline sat up. ‘Where did you see Craddock Fitch? I thought he’d only got home yesterday?’
‘He did. He popped in to see me.’
‘What did he want?’
‘This and that.’ Peter stood up. ‘Finished? I’ll clear away.’
‘Well?’
He looked down at her and thought about Venetia believing that everything between him and Caroline was clear and open. ‘Came to tell me he’s dropping the prosecution.’
‘That’s a relief, he must be mellowing in his old age!’
But Peter had gone towards the kitchen. She followed him in. Her two cats were settled for the night in their basket so she kissed them on the tops of their heads, tickled their stomachs as they rolled over to wallow in her attention and then looked at Peter’s back as he rinsed out her glass and got out a clean tea towel.
‘Peter!’
‘Yes?’
There was a pause. ‘Oh, nothing. I’m going to bed.’
‘Won’t be long.’
‘You deserve first prize for your …’ He turned to face her. ‘… loving patience.’
He turned back to the sink, put the well dried glass in the cupboard above the draining board and said, ‘I’ll follow you up in a while. Tell me more about the play tomorrow, you look completely whacked right now.’
Disappointed he hadn’t taken up her remark she said, ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight. I’m so proud of you. God bless.’
‘And you.’
Caroline fell asleep almost immediately and never realised that it was more than an hour before Peter, having spent an anguished time thinking over his situation, climbed the stairs to bed. He’d sat at his desk, head in hands, mulling over how he would handle the situation the following night. He’d smiled wryly to himself when he thought about the notion he’d had that morning of dramatically strangling Hugo in the wings at the end of the play as the final applause faded away. No, that wouldn’t do! The publicity! And he didn’t fancy a stretch in prison.
Appeal to Hugo’s better nature? He didn’t have one.
Threaten him? Not a suitable action for a pacifist to take.
Cajole him? Hugo would simply laugh.
Thump him good and hard? Even less of a good idea.
But somehow his exit from Turnham Malpas had to be brought off with the minimum of harm to Caroline.
Peter picked up the photograph he kept on his desk. It was the one he’d taken of her and the children on their first seaside holiday. She had a twin nestling in the crook of each arm and was nuzzling her cheek against Alex’s head. He remembered how the people in the hotel had commented on how like him Alex was, and how Beth had a look of Caroline, hadn’t she? He owed her so much. Her forgiveness alone was something he would never be able to repay, not if he lived a thousand years. Who was he to feel so desperately injured at this moment?
Peter replaced the photograph and knelt to pray for guidance.
On the Saturday night the play received a rapturous reception at the end of the first act. Mr Fitch’s guests were incredibly impressed and told him so when they gathered for coffee during the interval.
‘God! Fitch! You’ve boasted about this village of yours often enough, but bless me it’s come right up to scratch and no mistake! It’s like as if it’s for real. Amazing!’
‘Fitch! Where in heaven’s name have you found such talent? Can’t quite believe it in a village this size.’
‘How come you cornered Hugo Maude? Even I’ve heard of him, so he must be good. Damn me! Introduce me, would you? My Angela will be green as hell … Beg yer pardon, forgot I was in a Church Hall.’
‘Congratulations, Fitch! Most impressed with the leading lady. Who is she?’ The speaker bent his head to hear, balancing his coffee precariously within striking distance of Mr Fitch’s country suit. Mr Fitch whispered in his ear. The inquirer was so astonished he shouted his reply. ‘The Rector’s wife! My God! The Rector’s wife? Since when have Rectors had wives like that. Bet he needs to keep her on a tight rein.’
Peter, at Mr Fitch’s request, had just come to join the group and overheard the last remark. He ignored the comment and tolerated being introduced to everyone with as good a grace as he could muster. Inside he seethed with despair. Accepting their congratulations on his wife’s wonderful performance as cheerfully as he could, he longed for the interval bell to go so that he could slide back into anonimity in the darkness of the Church Hall and lick his wounds. He couldn’t take much more.
When it came to the scene when Caroline told her lover that it was all over, Peter’s flesh crawled.
‘I cannot go on. I have the children to think of. I suspect that Julian is ashamed of me, and I am too if I really think about it. Daisy hates it, too. She loves her father, you see, and knows how hurt he is. As a mother I have my duty to do. They didn’t ask to be born, and they are flesh of my flesh and as such deserve the best of me. I have a husband who deserves none of this anguish …’
‘But what about love? You haven’t mentioned love. Surely it deserves a place in our lives. You’ve said yourself you don’t love him any more.’
Marian turned angrily on him. ‘I’ve never said I don’t love him. You’re putting words in my mouth. What I am saying is I will not divorce my children’s father, I will not. For their sakes, I will not!’
Leonard went to sit beside her on the sofa and, taking her hand in his, he asked, ‘Taking this course of action will slowly but surely destroy you. No one should have to make this kind of sacrifice. I’m offering you love, doesn’t that count for something?’
Marian kissed his lips greedily. ‘Oh yes, of course it does, but it’s not enough.’
‘Not enough? What more can one ask? I sh
all love you to my dying day.’ He brushed her hair from her face and held her head between his hands, looking closely at her. ‘If he loved you like I do he’d let you go, if that was where your happiness lay. It’s all so easy, just come.’
‘And live a life in corners, hardly daring to acknowledge each other. Perhaps in thirty, forty, fifty years things might be different but now I’d be classed as a wicked woman, make no mistake about that. I can’t live that kind of life and he wouldn’t divorce me anyway.’
‘Make him.’
Marian shook her head. ‘It’s against his principles.’
Leonard mocked her. ‘Divorce might be against his principles but torturing his wife isn’t, then?’
‘You’re being ridiculous. In any case living your kind of life from one house party to the next wouldn’t be my kind of life. I need stability, a structure, security. It sounds pathetic, I know, but it’s true.’ She took his hand from her face, kissed the palm and whispered, ‘Don’t, please, don’t make it hard for me to say goodbye. I love you like life itself. Since I met you … Before you, he and I trudged on, going through the motions but you …’ she traced his features with a trembling finger ‘… you’ve made each moment of every day throb with life. The sun is brighter, the sky more blue, the world more entrancing. That’s been your gift to me …’
‘But, darling …’
Marian placed a finger on Leonard’s lips. ‘So I shall have that gift for the rest of my life. I shall keep it locked away and take it out from time to time, unwrap it and enjoy it again and again. Kiss me, and then I’ll leave. I shan’t look back or I might weaken and take you in my arms and fly away with you like you wish.’ With great longing in her voice she added, ‘You will be in my heart for ever and a day, my dearest.’
Peter listened to the dialogue going back and forth between the two of them and writhed inside. There was still the scene to get through when she heard from the maid that there’d been a shooting accident at the Big House and did madam know it was Mr Leonard who’d died. He wished Hugo Maude in hell and longed for the play to finish.
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