‘What on earth happened?’ asked Serena. ‘Where’s the piano?’
Will groaned again. ‘I have a feeling it may be outside the front door,’ he admitted. Serena pulled back the curtains – beautiful pale blue drapes with embroidered flowers along the hem, recently made and hung by Ashna. Will’s eyes protested at the sparkling morning light.
‘Yep, there it is,’ confirmed Serena. ‘Some of the local kids are playing it now. What happened?’
‘Long story, but let’s just say it involved far too much alcohol and I treated the neighbourhood to some of my favourite tunes on the piano as Jake drove us home from the Colonel’s. We were in the trailer attached to his tractor. Max and Pete accompanied me with some pretty raucous singing,’ he chuckled ruefully. ‘Lord knows who saw us. We got the piano to the front door but we were far too drunk to manage to get it inside, so I had the good idea of leaving it outdoors. I hope it didn’t rain. Will the diocese sack me, do you think?’ asked Will, pulling Serena down onto the bed and kissing her on the lips.
‘Yuck, hangover kiss,’ she laughed. ‘And they won’t sack you if they don’t find out, which, unless Miss Dawson saw you, they probably won’t. You’ll definitely be fired if you miss the service though,’ she teased, checking her watch. ‘You’ve only got half an hour.’
‘Bollocks,’ Will cursed as he jumped out of bed and raced, naked, into the en suite to shower. ‘There’s no hot water again!’ he yelped a moment later.
‘Boiler’s playing up,’ Serena replied with a sigh. ‘Will we ever get this place sorted?’ she asked, holding out a towel for a freezing Will to wrap himself in as he hopped out of the shower.
‘We will, for sure. You’ve done amazingly well so far. The place looks much homelier now. We just need more furniture. At least we’ve got a piano,’ he said, grinning broadly. Serena laughed. Will was a reprobate sometimes. But a lovable one.
After Will and Pete heaved the piano into the entrance hall, they made it to church in time – just – and Will managed to rise to the occasion despite his hangover. A packed house was a rarity in this day and age and Will wanted to make a good impression on his first Easter Sunday. During communion, he was interested to observe those parishioners who lingered a little longer than was usual at the altar. He would never have commented to anyone else on such observations, but it always gave him a clue as to those in his parish who might need his help. The Colonel was on his knees a little while, no doubt reflecting on his dearly missed wife. I must visit him again soon, thought Will. An elderly lady who helped with the flowers tarried too, and he made a mental note to ask after her. The surprise though was Alice Charles – the doctor’s wife who’d attended Serena’s birthday lunch. She was at the altar far longer than most, clearly deep in thought, her eyes fixed on the stained-glass window beyond with an expression of melancholy. He would drop in on her this week.
In the event though, Serena beat Will to it. On Tuesday morning, she was in the local chemist’s, searching for her particular brand of curl-friendly shampoo, when she bumped – literally – into Alice, who as a result dropped the item she was holding. Serena knelt down to retrieve it for her, apologising profusely, only to note it was a pregnancy test. Her cheeks flamed red.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, handing back the test. It seemed to be the final straw for Alice and she burst instantly into tears. Serena discreetly took the test from her, paying for it and the shampoo, before returning to Alice.
‘Come on,’ she said and led Alice back to the Vicarage.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Serena, handing Alice a steaming mug of sweet tea. She’d been thankful to discover the kitchen empty of any of the other Vicarage residents, aside from Paddington, who was curled up next to the Rayburn. She and Alice were now sitting on either side of the pine table while Radio Four rumbled on at low volume in the background. The fridge hummed, the Rayburn oozed warmth, the newly transformed work table gleamed. All was tranquil.
‘I don’t even know why I got that damned test,’ Alice said, brittle with tension. ‘I know what the wretched result is.’
‘And not the result you want?’
‘No, absolutely not. It’s going to be positive.’
Serena laid a hand tentatively on Alice’s own. ‘And that’s bad?’ she asked with a smile. ‘I can’t imagine something positive like that ever being negative,’ she told her, gently.
‘Well, that goes to show that you know nothing about my life,’ snapped Alice and her eyes reddened again as she fought back fresh tears.
‘So tell me,’ said Serena, unfazed.
‘I know what you think of me, what everyone thinks. There she goes, the ice queen, all she cares about are her nails and tennis and that snobby prep school she sends her children to. No warmth to her at all, no wonder he has to look elsewhere.’
‘Rob?’ asked Serena, shocked.
‘Yes,’ sighed Alice, the fight in her now vanished – she was like a damp pavement after a downpour of torrential rain. ‘You’ve heard about his affairs, have you?’
‘Not at all . . . Just from what you’ve said right now. And more than one?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Alice, laughing bitterly. ‘Many more than one, but this one takes the biscuit. It makes a mockery of me. Before, they’ve been nurses at the hospital, at least not right under my nose, but this one . . . I found out last night . . . It’s that slut Tanya from the pub. Married to Jake Hardy.’
Good Lord, thought Serena. She’d met Tanya only yesterday at the Black Horse and she was definitely the sort of woman to leave an impression.
‘Do you know for sure?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes, he admits everything to me once I’ve found out. Then he swears he’s a changed person. But this time . . . well, I just know I’m pregnant . . .’ Alice wailed.
‘Did you want to be pregnant?’ asked Serena, her heart now hammering. ‘Did you plan it?’
‘Good heavens, no,’ said Alice. ‘Does anyone plan a third? But I’ve been pretty sure for the last week or so and I decided it was a good thing. A fresh start for us. Babies are wonderful at creating new beginnings, aren’t they?’
Serena nodded, struggling to maintain her own composure now. But this wasn’t about her. She pulled herself together.
‘What will you do?’ she asked and Alice shook her perfect coppery head.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I simply don’t know.’
Serena next saw Alice a fortnight later. The doorbell rang in the late morning as Serena was cleaning her hands in one of the sinks in the scullery after a session in the garden. She dried them and hurried to the door.
‘I lost the baby,’ were Alice’s first words and Serena’s heart crumpled for her.
Pete was in the kitchen, making tea in his overalls, having been roped into helping with the painting by Max, so Serena took Alice through to the drawing room. She’d forgotten that this was where all the industry was taking place until they came upon Max and Ashna (who Max had also persuaded to assist with the decorating). They had the radio on and when they saw Serena enter the room, they immediately asked her to settle an argument.
‘Who sang this song? “House of the Rising Sun”?’ asked Max. Serena wasn’t really concentrating, aware that Alice needed to talk, but the answer popped into her head instantly.
‘The Animals,’ she answered.
‘There, I told you,’ giggled Ashna. ‘Max thought it was The Eagles . . .’
Max pulled a face. ‘Did you need me?’ he asked Serena.
‘No, sorry, I forgot you’d made a start on this room. It’s okay, we’ll use the study.’
The study was – mercifully – vacant. The log burner was roaring and all felt warm and snug. Serena and Alice sat at either end of a sofa.
‘I’m so sorry to burden you with this,’ said Alice. ‘But you’re the only person who knows I was pregnant. I took the test after I left here, and it was positive. I didn’t know what to think or feel. I just
felt numb. And that’s the worst. I feel so guilty now that I wasn’t elated about it. Like it’s a punishment.’
She looked at Serena, her pale blue eyes mournful. ‘I know I’ve no right to feel so grief-stricken about it all, but I do,’ she cried. ‘Serena, I feel so dreadfully sad.’
Serena took a deep breath. ‘I lost a baby once too, you know,’ she said. There, it was out, like an exhalation.
Serena paused for a moment, then added, ‘I know just how you feel.’
16.
DECEMBER 2000
It proved easier than Serena had expected to cut herself off from Luna. In their first year at their respective universities, both girls threw themselves into the social life and, while Serena returned home for the holidays, Luna spent every opportunity travelling with her new friends – Interrailing through Europe, driving along the west coast of America, island-hopping around Greece. She earned well during term time, having taken numerous Student Union bar jobs, which helped to fund her wanderlust, and she was particularly skilled at making friends with the rich and well-to-do, such alliances providing cheap or free holidays in their salubrious vacation homes.
Towards the end of the second year, it was even easier to avoid her sister – Serena was studying languages and was lucky enough to spend a term at a university in Paris. She decided to stay on for longer too, taking a job as a waitress during the holidays to improve her French further. But she was now in the first term of her final year and dreading the Christmas holidays. For the first time in a long while, she’d be forced to spend time with Luna, who was bringing a new boyfriend home to meet the family. He was called Colin, and sounded ghastly. Serena herself was single, having ended a relationship with her French boyfriend when she left Paris. As lovely as he was, she couldn’t be doing with long-distance relationships.
It was the last week of term and she’d been invited to a party. She was not in the mood. Her hair was all wrong and she had a tickle at the back of her throat, a sure sign a nasty cold was on its way. But she’d promised her best friend Lisa that she’d go along to give her moral support – there was an Aussie guy she had her eye on who was almost certainly going to be there. Serena knew him from her course and had been trying hard to get the two of them together for a while.
Serena searched half-heartedly through her wardrobe while Lisa applied make-up in the long mirror propped against the wall in Serena’s room. The mirror reflected a typical student room – a single bed covered with an ethnic throw, burning joss sticks depositing fine grey ash all along the windowsill, a bamboo-style blind, a stereo pumping out Destiny’s Child at high volume and clothes strewn on every available surface.
‘Found anything?’ asked Lisa, as she craned her neck to get in the right position to apply thick layers of mascara. She was already dressed in a black catsuit from Morgan and with her dark, poker-straight hair, pert bust and long legs she looked amazing, even if she would be freezing. Lisa was a hardy northerner and great fun, as well as an amazing listener. She wasn’t afraid to call a spade a spade either, and was Serena’s ‘go-to’ person for advice in times of crisis.
‘Eurgh, I don’t know. Maybe this?’ asked Serena, as she held up a black shift dress.
‘Too office-like,’ said Lisa, dismissing Serena’s effort and clambering up off the floor to search through the cupboard herself.
‘Here,’ she said, holding a red dress up against Serena.
‘I don’t remember this,’ mused Serena. ‘I don’t think it’s mine – is it yours?’
‘Not mine. Must be Ellie’s.’ Ellie was the third occupant of their houseshare, but she had a long-term boyfriend and was usually at his place.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ said Serena, her optimism for the evening increasing at the prospect of something decent to wear. The dress was figure hugging but, with long sleeves and a high neck, it wasn’t too revealing and Serena wouldn’t be cold even with just her threadbare cord jacket thrown over the top. She tried it on. It fitted like a glove, the velvet material sensuous against her skin.
‘Budge over,’ she said to Lisa and she set to work on applying make-up, unusual for her.
‘Flipping ’eck!’ remarked Lisa ten minutes later. ‘You look proper gorgeous. But your hair’s not right.’
Serena sighed. The thing about curls was you never knew if they were going to behave or not.
‘Here, let me try and put it up for you,’ Lisa offered, and within minutes she’d managed to pile Serena’s blonde curls on top of her head in a sophisticated topknot. ‘We’re going to knock ’em dead tonight,’ said Lisa and they finished off their ‘dressing vodkas’ and headed out into the icy December dark.
By the time they got there, the party was in full swing. Lisa immediately clocked the guy she was after and Serena started chatting to various faces she recognised from around the campus, although none of her circle of friends was there. These were the intellectuals, she recognised. The music was relaxed and, while loud, it was still possible to hear one another talk. Fashion was not high on the agenda and she realised she and Lisa were embarrassingly overdressed. Most of the crowd wore glasses and smoked pot. She made small talk with a group she knew from her course before heading into the kitchen to locate some alcohol. She found some warmish white wine and took a sip, blanching at the acidity as she swallowed it.
‘Grim, isn’t it?’ said a man standing across the table from her. He was tall and his smile was dazzling – the teeth perfect and the grin wide. His eyes were dark blue, the skin around them already crinkling even in his early twenties, and his hair was thick and red. Serena took him in and found herself unable to respond. Her reaction was instant. She wanted him. It was that simple.
‘You okay?’ he asked, clearly alarmed at her muteness. She mentally shook herself.
‘Yes, it’s just . . .’ Serena didn’t know how to explain.
‘I know,’ the man said, grinning. ‘I think I know. I feel it too. You’re single?’
‘Yes,’ she said, slowly smiling.
‘Then what are we waiting for? I’m Will,’ he said and he took her hand. They found a quiet corner of the sitting room where Serena sat in Will’s lap and they didn’t stop talking until dawn.
They seemed to have an infinite number of things in common. Both of them had owned guinea pigs named Mabel as children, they’d each been dreadful at maths and, while both had failed their cycling proficiency test (the shame!), they were excellent pianists, both of them Grade 8. As well as discovering that Will’s favourite ice cream was pistachio and his last girlfriend’s name Cordelia (how she immediately hated that name), Serena found out that he was a theology student. He was also the only child of highly scientific parents, a subject of intense interest to him.
‘That’s unusual. Science and religion don’t usually mix, do they?’ she asked.
‘True, though wasn’t it Einstein who said that science without religion is lame, and religion without science is blind?’
‘No idea!’ laughed Serena. ‘So you want to be a vicar?’
‘I know it’s not cool, not remotely, but yes.’
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Are your parents religious as well as scientific, just like Einstein?’ she gently teased.
‘No, not at all,’ Will said, acknowledging Serena’s teasing with a smile, and slightly shifting her weight on his lap. ‘But we holidayed every summer in a place called Potter’s Cove down in South Devon. We never ever went to church usually, but whenever we were there we always went to church on Sunday. The vicar there was a blast. Bernie Pemberton, he was called. Still is, I assume, though I haven’t seen him in years. He was an old friend of my father and just the most captivating person. Full of fun, but compassionate too, and I could see that being a vicar was a vocation for him. It was his life. That’s what I want. A job that actually makes a difference and that consumes you entirely. I’m resigned to being poor, but I’ve never been rich, and thankfully I’ve no desire for fast cars or flashy gadgets. It’s a passion-kille
r though. Too many girls have run a mile when I’ve told them my plans. So if you’re going to break my heart, beautiful Serena, do it now before it’s too late.’
Serena giggled and knocked back another glass of acidic wine. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, ‘I promise you now I won’t break your heart, but I have two conditions. I don’t want to get married, ever.’
Will raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘And the other?’
‘I don’t care how poor you are, we have to drink better wine than this.’ They laughed and then they kissed. After that, they were inseparable.
The last evening of term, they’d lain squashed in Serena’s single bed, legs entwined.
‘Have you ever played the dinner party game?’ Will asked.
‘I don’t think so. What is it?’
‘You have to think of which famous people you’d invite to a dinner party if you could ask anyone – dead or alive.’
‘Oooh, I love games like this. Let me think. I love the royals so I think I’d have to invite Princess Diana – she was so intriguing. And the princes. They’re so cute and they’d get to see their mum again. They’d love that.’
‘That’s possibly putting a little more thought into the game than I’d expected,’ Will said, amused. ‘Who else?’
‘Robbie Williams, for eye candy.’
‘Repulsive-looking, if you ask me.’
‘I’m not asking you,’ Serena teased. ‘Definitely Henry VIII, to try to work out why he was such a nutter. And Louis Theroux. You know – the journalist-broadcaster guy – to draw it all out of him. Have you seen Weird Weekends?’ Will nodded. ‘I love him,’ Serena continued. ‘My secret crush.’
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never started this game,’ Will laughed.
‘Well, I’m sure you’d want to invite some gorgeous ladies. Let me guess who you’d ask. Kylie, I bet. And I know you love Julia Roberts. Stephen Fry – I’ve seen his books on your shelf. Do you like Chris Evans? I bet you do!’
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