He's Her (The Vicarage Bench Series)

by Mimi Barbour

  “Open it, take out the notes, and slip your fingernail right down and under the back leather wall. Wiggle your nail until it finds space, and pull it up and out.”

  Carrie proceeded to follow his instructions, and to her delight the back interior wall of the expensive wallet lifted up. Tucked behind it were the promised two hundred-pound notes. She quickly took them out, slid them into her pocket, and replaced the other money. The wallet was put back precisely where she’d found it. Her heart was racing so hard that she crossed her shaky hands over her chest and took deep breaths.

  The nurse, a romantic at heart, stepped into the room at this precise moment and, assuming Carrie was overcome with emotion at seeing the handsome young man lying motionless in the bed, decided from now on she would treat Miss Temple with more kindness.

  “My dear, please sit down and don’t carry on so. Physically, your young man is doing quite nicely. He’s healthy and in fine form. The doctors are helping him all they can, and they’ve called in a specialist from Harley Street in London. He will be consulting with our own Dr. Andrews, who lives here in Bury and has just returned from a conference in Edinburgh. Therefore, we will have two qualified people to look after Mr. Parks. More good news: we expect his brother to arrive later today.”

  “Thank you, nurse. It is wonderful news.”

  “I’ll get you a hot cup of tea, and you just sit quietly and rest. Since it’s only eight-thirty, we have time before the doctors do their morning rounds.”

  As soon as she heard the time, Carrie flew into a tizzy.

  “Thank you, nurse, but I can’t stop for tea right now. I must get to work. I’m already late. I’ll come by this evening, if I may.”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Carrie grabbed her belongings off the bedside table and fled from the room, from the kindly nurse, and from the body of the man who tugged at her heartstrings. The solitary fellow lying there made her feel things she’d never experienced before. Careful not to dwell on any of her reactions, knowing her internal guest would pick up on her speculations, she cleared her mind and sped to the nearest bus stop. She was so late.

  Chapter Five

  “Bloody hell, they can’t beat you for being late. It happens.”

  “Not to me, it doesn’t. I’ve never been late a day in my life.”

  “Carrie, I could applaud your dedication, if I didn’t abhor your reasons.”

  “I like being on time.”

  “You’re afraid to be late, you mean. Your heart is beating ridiculously fast just thinking about what’s waiting for you. Your principal, what’s his name...?”

  “Mr. Browning.”

  “Yes. This Mr. Browning comes across to me as a real jerk. Otherwise the reactions you’re expecting from him wouldn’t terrify you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a person who likes to be on time. I hate it when I’m in the wrong, and I am if I’m late.”

  “There are extenuating circumstances, woman. If you were late day after day, then maybe I could understand your fears. But you’re not.”

  “No, not ever.”

  Carrie scurried through the halls of the quiet school and slid to a halt outside the door of her classroom. Her palms were wet, her stomach ached with nerves, and her whole body broke out in a cold sweat. She quickly brushed back the soft, curly tendrils of her hair and tried sticking them under the braid that formed a halo around her pale face. She patted the skirt of her grey suit, wiped her hands, and purposely took a cleansing breath.

  “Go in, already. No one’s going to eat you.”

  “As if you know or care.” Where did this attitude come from? It must be her nerves making her act up. She never behaved like this.

  “Oh, I care. Believe it.” The firm way he sent her the message clarified his meaning. He did care, and knowing that stiffened her backbone.

  Slowly she opened the door, peered into the room, and saw the tyrannical principal bent over her drawer while he searched through her belongings. Each child sat stiffly at attention, fingers laced in front of them, held rigid on their desks. The little monsters never behaved with such politeness when she was in charge.

  Carrie cleared her throat and stepped into the room. All eyes were immediately upon her. In the silence, loud and overpowering, she cleared her throat again. “Good morning, class. Good morning, Mr. Browning.”

  Like angels, the students smirked and replied in unison, “Good morning, Miss Temple.”

  Mr. Browning stood up and came towards her, at the same time barking his orders. “You lot, read the next ten pages in your readers, and not a sound out of you. I’ll be right outside the door. Come with me, Miss Temple.” He grasped her arm and manhandled her into the hallway.

  “Son of a...”

  “I’m terribly sorry I’m late. I had to go to the hospital...”

  “Yes, I’m sure you have a reason for your lateness, but there really isn’t one I can accept, so don’t bother telling it to me. I expect my teachers to be on time, or to call me in order to arrange for their absence with plenty of notice. To just not show up is inexcusable—unacceptable. I have a great many responsibilities, which demand my personal attention. I’m not impressed by having to take time out of my busy schedule and stand in for you. Miss Temple, I’m truly disappointed in this behaviour, and I...”

  “Mr. Browning! Enough! Do not talk to me in this way, or you’ll be teaching this class for the rest of the day yourself. A very ill friend needed me at the hospital. Once I became conscious of the late hour, I rushed here as fast as I possibly could. So either remove yourself and let me get on with my job or fire me.”

  “Atta girl.”

  It seemed that Rhett was either a good teacher or a bad influence. Carrie gulped at the end of her speech. It had come straight from her, spoken in a voice she’d never used before. She wasn’t aware she could speak with such force, but this morning was chock full of surprises. It was an obvious revelation to Mr. Browning, also. He stepped back, his mouth opening and closing in a comical way that reminded her of a pet guppy she’d bought as a child and kept hidden in her room.

  “I beg your pardon?” His voice all but squeaked.

  He was a small, compact man, with a small mouth, small hands and a small personality. His only saving grace was the wonderful head of blond hair he plastered down with Brylcreem each day. He’d had a crush on Carrie for years. The teaching staff joked as to which year he’d finally stop eating her up with his sly puppydog ogling and foster enough gumption to ask her out on a date. The man was a strange mix, male shyness cowering behind a bully’s character. Unfortunately, his small-minded meanness might have destroyed his chances now. He shocked them both with his reaction to her changed behaviour. He backed right off, literally stepping backwards.

  Carrie, reverting, had to fill the long silence. “I’ve never been late before, Mr. Browning. I am sorry to be a bother and to have inconvenienced you. Truly!”

  Now this sounded more like the woman he had come to know, the woman he’d lusted over for years.

  “Yes, it’s most unfortunate you didn’t call. But since you’ve never done anything like this before, we will forgive you this time, Miss Temple.”

  “What a big-hearted creep.”

  His small, blackish eyes peered into Carrie’s soft brown ones, which were full to the brim with pleading kindness. He surprised them both by patting her clenched hands before he pranced off down the hall, casting only a small shadow on the lighted walls.

  “What a pompous ass! His magnanimity overwhelms one.”

  “I’m surprised he behaved as pleasantly as he did. I expected worse.”

  “I don’t wonder. He has a Bonaparte complex—a little man who wants to appear much bigger, so he browbeats people with his management position. Can’t stand men like him.”

  “He’s good with the children. They listen to him. They don’t act up with him like they do with me.”

  “Because you’re kind-he
arted and they know you’d never hurt them. With your pal there, they know he’d make them pay and enjoy doing it.”

  Carrie opened the door to her classroom in time to catch a few of the boys running back to their seats, while others huddled around one desk, snickering and carrying on. Seeing only their teacher, the naughtiness continued.

  “I want you all to return to your seats. Take out your arithmetic workbooks and turn to page fifteen.” Carrie spoke firmly as she walked to her desk to put away her purse and close the drawer with her personal belongings, the drawer Mr. Browning had been nosing through. “Now, please.”

  Some students looked up and a few returned to their desks. Most continued with their shenanigans and ignored her. Then a voice they’d never heard her use rang out and immediately mustered everyone’s attention.

  “Get back to your own seats. Now! Bring out your workbooks. If, by the time I count to ten, there is even one student not occupied with the task I just assigned you, there will be trouble, and you will not like the consequences.”

  Carrie experienced baffled amazement at seeing her students scamper around to their desks and tumble their books to and fro, until in a short space of time all heads were bent docilely over their workbooks.

  “How did you do that?” Carrie felt stunned, amazed—dumbfounded.

  “It’s called respect. Children, in the same way as adults, react to and understand demanded respect. If you treat people only with kindness, many will react in the same manner, but more won’t. They’ll ignore you. Look, I’ve learnt in my life you gotta go after what you want and fight for it. Never back down if it’s important to you.”

  “Even if you’re wrong? Wouldn’t it be an empty victory, then?”

  “Never thought of it like that before. I suppose you’re right. To me, losing is a weakness, so I don’t lose. Maybe I’ve gone too far in one direction, but you’ve gone too far in the other.”

  “I think I’ve already started to change. Did you hear me tell off Mr. Browning? I was jolly good, wasn’t I?”

  “Jolly great, you mean!”

  “Rhett, I’m going to think very seriously about what you’ve just said. I mean it.”

  “Remember, you don’t want to be a doormat for the rest of your life, allowing everyone to walk all over you. Develop a backbone, demand the respect that’s your due, and people won’t mess with you.”

  “I was just wondering. What were the consequences you were intending to inflict on the children who might have ignored your warning?”

  “Lashes, maybe the rack, or the electric chair. What’s your preference?”

  “All good ideas. I’ll contemplate them for further misconduct, but I had imagined something worse, like giving detention or writing lines. You know, something lethal.”

  “Payback, you mean, for the torture they put you through daily?”

  Carrie smiled, enjoying their repartee, but she felt one important issue needing explaining. “I love my kids. Don’t get me wrong, they drive me batty, but they’re really just normal, energetic children, full of enthusiasm.”

  “Then it’s your responsibility to teach them manners and good behaviour. Children need firm guidance. When they become teens and adults, this lesson will be invaluable. I had it drilled into me as a child, and it didn’t hurt me at all. In fact, it’s made life easier, in the long run. Being accountable for their actions will get harder as they grow older, so forcing them to practice the concept now is as important for them as reading, writing and arithmetic.”

  Carrie had a lot to mull over. She sensed Rhett fading to give her space to ponder his wisdom. Her mind started to list his points.

  Obviously he was right, and niceness wasn’t always the answer.

  Occasionally, she needed to react more strongly instead of being—what did he call her?—a doormat?

  Apparently, she did have moments of courage.

  Hopefully she...

  A hand grasping hers pulled her attention to the pale youngster in front of her. She’d tried not to have favourites, but her soft heart lost the battle with this boy. She knew he needed her more than the others.

  “Yes, Robert. What is it?”

  “Miss, me da’s sick and needs me to work in the store for a coupla days. I promised him I’d get back home as soon as I talked to ya.”

  “Why, may I ask, can’t your older brothers help out at the store? Why you, Robert? You’re much younger.”

  “‘Strewth, they’s workin’ at the foundry and can’t help out. I’m sorry, Miss. I have to leave now.”

  “I understand, dear. I’ll send the work we’re covering home with your friend Nigel, and if you need any help, come see me and I’ll work extra with you. Please don’t miss too much, Robert, and return as soon as you can.”

  “I will, Miss. I’m sorry.” His plain little face wore such an anguished expression at having to stay away from her for any length of time that she instinctively hugged him to her and whispered in his ear.

  “I’ll miss you, lovey.” She felt a small shudder ripple though his undernourished frame. She swallowed the moisture that gathered at the back of her throat. The next few days at school looked bleak.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Carrie’s workday was over, exhaustion had beaten her down. Rhett had absented himself and left emptiness in his stead. She missed his caustic impertinence, but taking the advice he’d given her and copying his style worked rather well. The students performed much better, and she enjoyed teaching children who were involved and well behaved.

  All day her mind teemed with questions and sorted through solutions. Rhett’s silent suffering ate away at her. She couldn’t understand why he was able to close down to her when it seemed her lines were always open to him. Afraid to focus on the man, because their history showed her that he could tune in whenever it suited him, she blanked out her private thoughts. This whole mysterious metamorphosis had her constantly questioning her sanity.

  She stepped into the dingy hallway and called out, “I’m home, Gran,” as she made her way into their small, lighted kitchen. Her grandfather continued to read his newspaper and didn’t bother to look up. Her grandmother bustled over to her, arms open wide, reaching, and they embraced. Carrie went to her granddad’s side and leaned over to buss his cheek. “Hello, pet. How was your day?”

  “Same as yesterday and the day before.” He lowered the paper in order to look over the top and glare at her. Before he could speak his mind, the cheery voice from across the room interrupted.

  “Bless my soul, lovey, you’re just in time for supper.” Her grandmother’s face was lit with the spontaneous joy she wore every time Carrie appeared.

  It never failed to amaze Carrie how blessed she was, to be loved as much as this tiny woman loved her. If it weren’t for her Gran, she’d most likely be slaving in a restaurant or shop.

  After working each day, cooking at the neighbourhood pub, Gran had taken in piano students every evening for years in order to pay for Carrie’s private school education and then later for teacher’s college. Despite her husband, who felt Carrie should go to the neighbourhood public school, Gran had slaved and saved. She had been adamant. Carrie, their only grandchild, would have her chance.

  In a way, it had made life harder for Carrie because the kids on her street shunned her and called her a snob. The girls she went to school with didn’t live in her area, and so she grew up as a lonely outsider.

  Carrie often wondered if part of the old woman’s devotion was her way of making peace with her own daughter’s ghost, that of Carrie’s unwed teenage mother, Theresa. The sad story was told to her on the day she herself became a teenager. Her Gran, tears pouring down her face, confessed to Carrie that after Theresa broke the news of her pregnancy, her father’s unbearable attitude had sent the girl fleeing into the dark streets, crying hysterically. The guilt of not supporting Theresa against the furious man right then and there was a heartbreaking memory Gran agonized over. The remorseful father sea
rched for his daughter day after day but to no avail.

  By the time Theresa returned home, defeated, she’d become rundown and weak and was close to delivery. The birth had been more than the slight, undernourished girl’s body could bear. She’d lived only hours after Carrie appeared, just long enough to have her mother promise to name the baby Carrie and to love and protect her and give her a home.

  Whether it was his daughter’s death, his grandchild’s birth, or a life spent in a fruitless and boring job, Carrie never knew precisely what made her granddad act the way he did. She only knew he was a miserable man married to an angel.

  Gran happily set a place for Carrie at the table. “Sit yourself down here, darling, and tell us of your day.”

  “I’m sorry, Gran, but I have to run. I’ve promised to return to the hospital and visit Mr. Parks, the man I told you about yesterday. I just wanted to stop here first in order to let you know. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Your grandmother has been preparing your supper all afternoon, miss. You will do her the courtesy of spending ten minutes out of your busy schedule and eat it. Silly chit!” The newspaper snapped open and his growling face disappeared behind the pages.

  Her gran’s tongue snuck out and she crossed her eyes in his direction, which had Carrie stifling her giggles and covering her mouth.

  Then, before she had an inkling he was back, Rhett exploded, using her mouth for his tool of punishment. Words she hadn’t gathered in her own mind flooded from her. It would be difficult to know, of the three people seated around the table, whose eyes opened the widest.

  “Old man, I’ve had about all your surliness I can take. You’re a cheerless old grump, and you should be ashamed of yourself. The Lord has sent you untold blessings, and you shroud yourself in misery and meanness. Those of us who have to live with you don’t deserve your bitterness. Open your eyes, man, and see how few years you have left. Quit wasting them so foolishly.”

  Clapping her hands over her mouth to stop more of Rhett’s tirade from gushing out, Carrie ran from the room and flew up the stairs.