The service that followed was mournful, ‘There is a Green Hill Far Away’ and ‘My Song is Love Unknown’ sending shivers down Serena’s spine as they always did. She would be glad to get to Easter Day and a more joyful service. She closed her eyes, endeavouring to shut out all thoughts at the same time, and was relieved to return home to the fish pie Ashna had warmed through for the four of them in the Rayburn.
‘How was the service?’ asked Pete, helping himself to a hearty portion while Serena sloshed white wine into all four glasses. Will and Serena had briefly contemplated giving up wine for Lent, but had opted for chocolate in the end. Maybe next year . . .
‘Good, thanks,’ answered Will. ‘Easter’s always lovely – the contrast between serious Good Friday and joyful Easter Sunday. Holy Sunday, Mrs Pipe still calls it. I know the congregation are all still comparing me to the last chap, but at least the younger ones seem happy enough with me. It’s the oldies that are the toughies,’ he said, grinning good-naturedly.
‘Sorry I couldn’t make it today, mate. I promised Max I’d help him fix his van,’ explained Pete. ‘But I’ll be there Easter Sunday, I promise.’
‘No pressure, old chap. Whatever you like. It’s not part of the deal, just because you’re living in a vicarage.’
‘I know, but I promised the prison chaplain I’d go to church once a month and I’m gonna stick to my word. Call it part of my rehabilitation . . .’
They were halfway through the meal when the telephone rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Will, scraping back his chair. He raced up to the freshly painted hall where an old-fashioned telephone sat trilling loudly into the echoing space.
‘Vicarage,’ sang Will as he pushed back his hair and crouched down next to the hall table.
‘Afternoon,’ came the barked response. ‘Colonel Feltham-Jones here. One arm,’ he clarified, which nearly made Will snort with laughter. The Colonel was distinctive enough to remember without him needing to describe his lack of limb, but it was clearly how he liked to introduce himself.
‘How can I help, Colonel?’ asked Will.
‘Was speaking to Miss Dawson yesterday. She told me you and your lady friend play the piano. Correct?’ he bellowed.
‘Er, yes, that’s right. Or at least we used to. We don’t have a piano at the moment.’
‘Reason I’m calling, old chap. Got a piano here if you’d like it. Belonged to my wife. No use for it now.’ The Colonel’s wife had died only recently and, while he put on a great show of resilience, Will was certain he was sad and lonely underneath. ‘You’ll just need to pick it up.’
‘Fantastic,’ enthused Will. He was always keen to receive any offers of charity – it was a necessity with a salary as pathetic as his – and the house still felt bare and in need of more furnishings. As well, it would be lovely to play again and perhaps it would be good for Serena too. He finished off making arrangements with the Colonel before telling the others the good news.
‘Reminds me of something that happened at the prison,’ Pete said, topping up everyone’s wine glasses. ‘Some kind, deluded soul like the old Colonel donated a piano to the jail one day but the screws didn’t really know where to put it, so for a while it was just outside my cell. Nobody was usin’ it, but one of the guards used to rest up against it when he was on duty at night and fancied a little snooze. Then me and my cellmate Paddy had an idea – lovely Irish lad he was, probably not really called Paddy, but that’s your name if you’re servin’ time and you’re Irish.’ Will chuckled at this.
‘Anyway, one evenin’ Paddy fed this dozy guard some ghost story about a house he’d lived in once what was haunted – he could tell a good tale could Paddy, and he really went to town. All about this ghost playin’ the piano in the middle of the night. So that night the screw’s just settlin’ down for a little nap around midnight when Paddy gets out a phone he’s had smuggled into the prison. He’s found a bit of piano music on there, so he turns it up super loud and starts playin’. Some dramatic tune or other. We’ve got a great view of the guard from the cell window and we see his eyes open, then he goes rigid with fear. He takes one look at the piano, sees there’s no one playin’ it, and just legs it down the corridor. Screamin’ like a baby he was. Poor sod. Bit cruel of us, I s’pose, but it gets a bit dull sometimes inside. You live for a little joke or two.’
‘What happened to him? The guard?’ asked Serena, laughing.
‘They moved him down to the other wing. Knew he’d just be baited by us lot after that. They shifted the piano too. Never did know where it ended up.’
‘Well, I’m sure this piano will have a far less eventful life,’ Will said, smiling. ‘Actually, you wouldn’t be able to help me move it, would you, Pete?’
‘’Course I could. Just don’t expect me to play it, that’s all.’
The following evening, on Easter Saturday, Will and Pete arrived at the Black Horse to meet Max and local farmer Jake Hardy, who’d both agreed to help them move the piano from the Colonel’s house to the Vicarage. Will hadn’t met Jake before, but he and the Colonel appeared to be firm friends and had arranged for the piano to be transported on a trailer hooked up to Jake’s tractor.
‘You must be Jake!’ Will said, clapping the farmer on the back and offering him a drink before they set off.
‘Kind of you,’ replied Jake with quiet reserve. ‘But I don’t drink. Been on the wagon for a couple of years now. Whisky got the better of me, but the Colonel’s wife helped me. I’m that sad she’s passed away,’ he muttered into his scraggy, sandy beard that matched his scraggy, sandy hair.
‘Shouldn’t be in the pub should you, Jakey!’ came a loud female voice from the corner of the inn. Will searched around and was surprised to see a buxom woman emerge from the shadows. She was clad from head to toe in leopard print, her cleavage was out of this world and her pouty lips were painted cerise pink.
‘Going to introduce me then?’ she asked Jake, daintily flapping her bejewelled fingers in Will’s direction.
‘Er, yes, er, this is the new vicar, love,’ Jake told her. ‘Will, this is my wife, Tanya,’ he managed, before sinking into his collar.
‘Not your typical farmer’s wife,’ whispered Max, who’d ordered Will a pint of bitter and passed it over to him. Pete’s mouth was open in an expression of horror as he assessed the predatory Tanya.
It transpired that Tanya worked in the pub and, while her quiet husband may have found sobriety, she apparently had no intention of joining him. As she cleared glasses from the tables she seemed to think it a perk of the job to finish any dregs left in them and every so often, when the beer bubbles became too much for her, she let out a loud belch. She was a triumph for the landlord, however, as she was very persuasive with her customers. After several pints, Will decided they really should get on with collecting the piano.
‘Come on, lads,’ he said, feeling decidedly merry. ‘Time we were off.’
‘Don’t you gorgeous men be leaving me just yet,’ admonished Tanya. ‘Come on, one more for the road,’ she said, pouring three pints without taking no for an answer and the men happily enjoyed another drink together before finally getting on their way with Jake, their designated tractor driver.
‘Hop yourselves into the trailer,’ he told them as he swung up into the cab and started the engine. The three lads jumped up, giddy now from the sudden burst of fresh air. Ten minutes later they arrived at the Colonel’s house. He was at the door, beckoning them in immediately as he smoked his pipe.
‘Where’ve you been? Got the sherry out and ready for you hours ago. Some crisps too. They’ll be stale soon. Come on! Come along in,’ he bellowed, waving his one arm around expansively. The Colonel’s house was a beautiful property, there was no doubt, and it was cosily furnished with antiques and ancient rugs. It was clear though that it was lacking a woman’s touch. In the sitting room a fire was roaring in the hearth, but, rather than lamplight, an overly bright ceiling light illuminated the room and there were piles of books an
d Country Life magazines strewn around. The room smelt strongly of pipe tobacco and when Will sat down on the sofa, narrowly avoiding squashing the Colonel’s spectacles, he could see through to the kitchen where the sink was brimming with unwashed crockery and pans. His heart went out to the old fellow and he knew he couldn’t possibly leave before partaking in at least a couple of drinks. He hoped Serena wouldn’t wait up for him.
Serena yawned and stretched out in the bed. It seemed too large without Will beside her and she checked her bedside clock again. It was past midnight and there was no sign of him, which wasn’t unusual for Will, who tended to lose track of time in the pub, but she was surprised he was enjoying a bender the night before Easter Sunday. He’d regret it in the morning, but there was no point in Serena staying awake too. She took off her reading glasses, put down her book and turned out the light, pulling the thick duvet tight around her.
The next thing she knew she was awake, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. She felt beside her. Still no Will. She strained her ears, listening out for whatever had woken her. Nothing, she thought and was just about to turn over when she heard a noise. She jumped out of bed and crept to the bedroom door, which creaked disconcertingly as she opened it. She stepped out onto the landing and made her way stealthily along the corridor. And then she stopped dead still. It was that noise again and this time there was no question what it was. The wail of a baby. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and gripped hold of the newly polished banister. Where’s it coming from? she asked herself, panicky now. She made her way a little further along the landing and all at once the noise grew louder. The nursery. Her heart was now in her throat as she crept up to the door and swung it open.
‘Paddington!’ she cried. ‘What are you doing in here? You silly thing, getting stuck.’
The mewling of the cat. Not a baby after all. Serena took some deep breaths and bundled Paddington into her arms, taking her through to the bedroom. She placed her in Will’s spot and lay in the bed listening to her heart reverberate in her ribcage. The sensible side of her knew it was just a case of Paddington getting stuck in the nursery, but deep within her she felt a sense of misgiving. There was something about that room that wasn’t right. She shuddered and curled herself into the foetal position. Eventually she drifted off until she was disturbed by Will climbing into bed in the early hours. She pulled him to her, ignoring the alcohol fumes – just glad to have him home again.
14.
AUGUST 1998
Freddie’s impromptu stay with Serena was a surprising success, at least to start with. Serena had been in such a panic that life in her small village in rural England would fail to match up to bohemian Deia, but Freddie seemed more than happy to fit into a different kind of life with the Meadows. The village was not particularly beautiful, and it certainly wasn’t buzzing, but it had a certain sleepy charm to it. It was inland but only a short drive to the sea on the South East coast and, while Serena’s own house was an uninspiring 1960s semi in a quiet close, there were quaint Tudor cottages dotted around, a pleasant park and a couple of pubs. At the Rose and Crown Serena introduced Freddie to her and Luna’s friends and they hung around playing pool, listening to the Manic Street Preachers on the jukebox while they drank bottles of lager. On brighter days, the group lounged lazily in the beer garden, playing card games and enjoying that wonderful gift of time to squander, available only to the very young.
Freddie was a hit with everyone. The girls giggled and flicked their hair when he teased them and the boys thought him the absolute essence of cool and started squeezing lemon into their hair in an attempt to bring out the natural highlights (largely unsuccessfully). He seemed to enhance Serena’s own popularity too, as if she’d passed some kind of test by introducing her heavenly boyfriend to the gang. She’d always been in Luna’s shadow until now and suddenly she was the twin the telephone rang for as plans were made for trips to the beach or outings on the train to Hastings or Tunbridge Wells for shopping and yet more hanging around. Serena, in these moments, found herself less pleased than anxious. She watched Luna’s face as the days progressed, the charming smiles her sister had been ready with at the start of the week becoming more forced – her eyes betraying her real feelings, only visible to Serena. Luna’s thunder had been stolen. And she didn’t like it.
She began an attack – Freddie the unknowing victim – but Serena was blindly confident in their love for one another. Serena almost pitied her as Luna joined the couple on the sofa to watch Trainspotting for the umpteenth time, snuggling up on the other side of Freddie. Serena felt Freddie move imperceptibly towards her and smiled to herself. Luna would not give up though. She was brazen. On the beach, she wore skimpier and skimpier bikinis (Serena in her trusty old navy swimsuit); in the pub, she would somehow always make sure she was sitting next to Freddie, where she would take the liberty of trying out whatever he was drinking.
In the end, Serena and Freddie laughed about it.
‘My sister fancies you,’ Serena said one evening when they’d managed to extricate themselves from Luna for long enough to go for a walk to the park alone. Serena sat on a swing and Freddie took the one next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
‘I know, she’s pretty obvious. It’s amazing how identical-looking you are, but how different you are otherwise. There’s something unsettling about her,’ Freddie said, frowning, and Serena felt reassured. It was clear to her that Luna didn’t stand a chance.
Freddie had been with them for ten days when Serena was asked to babysit for the vicar’s children one evening. She asked if Freddie could go with her, but the vicar was very strait-laced and made it clear she should come alone.
‘Do you mind?’ Serena asked Freddie. ‘It’s just one evening, and I could use the cash. I’ll be back by eleven.’
‘’Course not.’
‘Mum and Dad are out tonight and Luna said she might be going out too, so I’m afraid you’ll probably be all alone.’
‘I’ll survive,’ he said, laughter in his eyes. ‘I’ll watch EastEnders and pine for you to get back.’
They kissed and Serena left him opening a can of beer in the kitchen.
She got home earlier than expected. The vicar’s wife had been suffering with a bad headache and they’d returned by half past nine. Serena had stuffed her cash in her purse and hurried home. There was no sign of Freddie, but she heard music coming from Luna’s room – her favourite, Massive Attack.
The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open. Then she froze. She wanted to cover her eyes with her hands, or run away – far, far away – but it was as though she was glued to the floor. And the worst thing was that they didn’t realise she was there and so the scene was not one of shocked faces and pulled-up bed sheets, but instead an image of entwined, mobile bodies. Legs wrapped around each other, Luna’s bare back, Freddie’s strong arms. Serena snapped.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she yelled, her voice high and strangled.
It was the ultimate betrayal and the aftermath felt dirty and messy. Freddie was full of remorse and weak explanations about Luna’s powers of persuasion and his own impulsive and fallible nature. He begged for forgiveness.
Luna behaved as if nothing untoward had happened at all. As if Serena were making a great fuss about nothing. Serena found this attitude possibly the most galling thing of all. The fact that, to Luna, it had meant nothing to lure Serena’s boyfriend into bed with her. It had been merely a point to score.
The day after it happened was the day of the twins’ A Level results. Stephanie drove them to their sixth-form college, Freddie having taken a train to London to stay with an old school friend, his tail between his legs. The girls were keeping the sordid episode to themselves, in unspoken agreement, and Stephanie put their odd behaviour down to nerves, although she was confused when their mood failed to be enhanced by their both receiving the grades they needed (Luna pipping Serena at the post, with one more ‘A’ grade). Th
eir mother was glowing in their reflected glory, as the girls won places at the University of Surrey, where they’d both been planning to study: Serena midwifery, Luna media studies with English literature.
But if there was one thing Serena now knew, it was that she could no longer be a part of Luna’s life. Secretly, telling no one, she went through clearing and managed to secure herself a place at a college in Sheffield, as far away from Luna as possible. She wasn’t able to get onto another midwifery course, so she opted for another of her strengths – languages – instead. She told her parents she’d had a change of mind about career direction and that the new university she’d chosen was renowned for its French and Spanish courses.
She could see her mother wavering when she announced her decision. Serena could tell she was trying to assess what people would think. She’d already told everyone that Serena was going to train as a midwife, but then again languages did sound a bit more academic. Her friend Sheila’s son was going to study French and she was always going on about how clever he was. Yes, Stephanie would look forward to telling her at book club. She smiled, and Serena was relieved. Arthur was more concerned.
‘But you’ve always wanted to be a midwife!’ he said.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Serena told him, definite.
‘Well, as long as you’re sure . . .’ he said, squeezing her hand.
She was. It was over with Freddie, and with Luna too. Serena had decided she was better off alone.
15.
APRIL 2015
T he next thing Will knew, it was Easter Sunday and he had a raging hangover.
‘Good night?’ asked Serena as she brought him a cup of tea. She’d decided not to tell Will about her shock in the night. In the cold light of day, it seemed silly. Just a cat stuck in a bedroom after all, and perhaps a worrying indication of the state of her subconscious. Will groaned and buried his red thatch of hair in the pillow.
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