Ella turned on her heel and stalked away before Jake could even draw breath to reply, although not before he caught the glint of malice in her eyes and saw her lips shrivel into a tight red slash.
She was being ridiculous, of course, and she probably didn’t mean a word of her childish threats – but suddenly, and in spite of the warm sunshine on his skin, Jake felt cold.
Ella St Milton was a dangerous lover and he suspected that she could be an even more dangerous enemy.
Chapter 11
Sundays were always a busy day for a vicar and today was proving no exception for Jules Mathieson, whose Sabbath had started early with a prayer meeting for the lay readers. To her surprise, their emergence from the meeting had distracted a man who was already sitting in a pew, seemingly deep in thought. Jules had tried to reassure him that he was more than welcome to stay, but he’d shot off pretty hastily, clearly not keen on being disturbed. He’d seemed very familiar and it was only halfway through her sermon that Jules had finally twigged that he was the man Mo Tremaine had been arguing with the previous night. No wonder he’d looked so pensive. From the way Mo had flown at him, Jules could hardly blame the guy if he felt he needed to take sanctuary!
By the time the morning service was over, the hymn books were collected up and the last of the congregation was meandering back through the churchyard to the village, Jules was ready to collapse. In spite of only having had a couple of pints and a relatively early night once Danny Tremaine had been safely delivered home, she’d woken up with a pounding head and a mouth drier than the inside of the church font.
Maybe this was the Lord’s way of telling her to drink less and not to hang out in pubs, Jules pondered as she gulped the leftover communion wine and then wiped the chalice with a soft cloth. That would make life a bit difficult, though, when the Church of England insisted on using good and wholesome fermented grape juice for the Eucharist; alas, a dwindling congregation meant she had to finish off a third of a bottle of full-bodied claret whenever there was a communion service. I really must pour less next time, Jules thought guiltily. She was in danger of ending up like poor Danny otherwise. Not a comfortable thought.
Hmm. Danny Tremaine. He was without doubt a man on the edge, broken in both heart and body. How did you even dare to presume to try helping a man like him? A man who’d seen horrors most people were lucky enough to not even be able to imagine. Jules couldn’t blame him for turning to alcohol. It was one way of coping, after all.
As she moved into the vestry to remove her cassock, Jules’s thoughts turned back to the journey up to Seaspray the night before. She and Nick had put their arms around Danny and dragged him, dangling between them, through the streets and up to the house. Danny was still a strong man, over six feet of army-honed muscle, and by the time they’d reached the cliff path Jules had been puffing like a tank engine. If Danny had wanted to talk, rather than been practically unconscious, she would have been no use whatsoever: there had been no breath left in her to speak. Lord, please help me to resist all the delicious food here and get fit, Jules prayed to the cheerful stained-glass Jesus above her desk. Surrounded by children and wearing a particularly sunny halo, this version of the Lord always made Jules feel as though he was beaming down at her, ready to hop out of the casement and wander into the village for a chat and a pasty. Goodness, she really wished He would. Fiery fisher folk and social misfits were, after all, His speciality – and Jules was sure that Jesus would have known exactly how to help Danny Tremaine. Why on earth was she wasting His time whining about her weight when there were people here with real problems? Danny couldn’t help it that a roadside bomb had caught him unawares, but she knew full well that every packet of Wotsits and bar of Dairy Milk went straight to her hips. Jules felt ashamed.
Please show me what I can do to help Danny, she prayed. Let me have the right words. Give me a sign.
A sharp knock at the vestry door made her jump. Seconds later Alice Tremaine’s kind face peeked nervously around the door.
Wow. That was quick, Jules thought. Not that she ever doubted her boss, but even so!
“I’m really sorry to disturb you, Jules love,” Alice said apologetically, “but I just wanted to catch you while Morgan was out of earshot.”
Jules grinned. “I should imagine that’s easier said than done. It strikes me that not much gets past that young man. Fact!”
“Fact, indeed, and not always a good thing,” Alice Tremaine agreed wryly. Stepping into the small room, she shut the door behind her and then exhaled wearily. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did last night, Vicar. And don’t try and fob me off by telling me it was nothing, either!”
Jules smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of fobbing you off, Alice, but it really wasn’t a major deal. The walk did me good.”
Alice shook her head. “Just about everyone in the village is talking about Danny’s outburst, and I’m old enough to know that they’re probably leaving out the worst of it for my benefit. I’m really grateful to you for stepping in and helping to calm him down. Dan can be volatile at the moment, so that was a brave thing to do.”
“I’m not sure about brave,” said Jules. She perched on the corner of her desk and picked up her stole, running her hands over the embroidery as though seeking inspiration in the stitches. It was a beautiful design on the top, but underneath it was a confused and knotted mass of thread and oversewing. Maybe Danny was just the other way around? “He’s been through a lot,” she continued gently. “I think it’s understandable he’s upset.”
“Well, I’m more sorry than I can say that you had to see him like that, my dear,” Alice told her apologetically. The older woman’s wise eyes were shadowed with a deep sadness. “He wasn’t always this way, you know. It’s what happened in Afghanistan; it’s changed him almost beyond recognition – well, that and Tara not being able to handle it. I think losing her was even worse than losing his arm. Dan adores Tara. By all accounts, while he was in the field hospital it was only thinking of her and Morgan that kept him going. He nearly didn’t make it, but he’s a Tremaine and a fighter.” Her voice shook. “At least, he was. Lately I’m really afraid that he’s started to give up.”
Jules didn’t say anything but instead reached forward and laid her hand over Alice’s. It felt as light as a bird beneath her touch, the skin papery and the bones fragile. She’d come to realise that words often just got in the way. More often than not, people came to her just to talk through their own thoughts and eventually wound their own way to some kind of absolution. She sometimes thought the Catholics were onto something with confession.
Alice gave Jules a sad smile. Sunshine danced through the stained-glass window, throwing paint-box colours onto the worn stone floor and revealing the dust motes that fell silently through the air. Jules realised that she was holding her breath; she sensed that a story was about to unfold.
“Dan was always such an easy-going boy. He was probably the least trouble out of all the children when he was growing up.” Now Alice’s gaze was decades away, back in the past where scabby-kneed little boys shinned up trees and rowed their dinghies in the harbour, a world away from the nightmare land of roadside bombs and snipers. “Of course, it wasn’t easy for any of them when Penny died,” she continued softly. “Jimmy – that’s my son – just went to pieces, and he was no use to anyone. The children must have felt as though they’d lost both their parents. The twins were only two, and Zak and Symon weren’t that much older. I guess Jake and Danny and Mo were probably hit the hardest because they understood more of what was happening, but I’m afraid that it was exactly because they were older I expected them to cope as best they could.” Alice had closed her eyes. “I thought I was handling it all by coping alone, but looking back I wonder if it just made a horrible mess even worse. They’re all struggling as adults, aren’t they? What if it was because I didn’t have more time for them when they were children? At the risk of sounding like an episode of Jeremy Kyle, maybe I should have sought
some help for them?”
Jules thought of Jake in all his sexy snake-hipped, golden-curled, blue-eyed glory and, in spite of the sunshine, goosebumps dusted her arms. He’d not been aware of it, but in the pub last night he’d been a magnet for the gaze of every woman. She’d found it hard enough to string a coherent sentence together from behind the safety of her vicar’s status; he really was one of the most striking men she’d ever seen, the type you looked at once and then had to look at again just to check he was real. He hardly seemed like a man who was struggling, except maybe to fight off the rapacious blonde who’d been staring at him across the bar as though he was a Big Mac meal she was about to gobble up. And as for Morwenna – well, she was clearly more than capable of standing up for herself, if Musto Man had to hide out in St Wenn’s. Danny was different. He had an air of vulnerability about him that had escaped the rest of the brood.
“I know what you’re thinking, but they’ve had to deal with their loss in their own ways,” Alice explained, spotting the doubt on Jules’s face. “Mo’s been horse mad ever since I can remember. Honestly, if it doesn’t have hooves and a mane then she’s not interested. When it comes to people, she really isn’t bothered. She doesn’t let anyone come close. I worry about her because it isn’t right, is it? She should have her own family by now.”
“You can’t live people’s lives for them,” Jules pointed out gently. “There’s plenty of time for Morwenna to find someone.”
Alice looked doubtful. “To be honest I can’t imagine who’d be able to handle Mo. She’s stubborn and fiery, and although I love her she’s not easy to live with. And as for Jake, he’s never been the same since—”
“You were saying about Jake?” Jules prompted when Alice paused.
“Ah, Jake. Well, he seemed fine for a long time. He worked hard at school, had begun to take over the business and even had a steady girlfriend. I really thought that life was working out for him; they seemed so happy together. But then she broke it off and he couldn’t handle it at all. Eventually he went travelling. Like Mo, he’s never managed to find anyone either. We hardly saw him for the next ten years. He was in Australia, the States, the Caribbean – anywhere but here. He’s only back now because Jimmy’s not been well. At least Danny was happy. He had the career he’d always dreamed of and the perfect family. I don’t know why it all had to go wrong for him. Hadn’t he suffered enough? Has our family done something wrong? Are we being punished?” Her eyes filled with tears and wordlessly Jules passed her the box of Kleenex that lived on her desk, as essential to her role as a vicar as the dog collar and pulpit.
“I can’t explain why these things have happened to you.” Jules searched her heart for the right words. “Sometimes we can’t see the reasons why until we’re looking back and then there’s some sense to it – and maybe even then it’s still inexplicable. Maybe we’ll never know the reasons. Or perhaps there simply aren’t any? But I do know one thing, Alice, and that is that God doesn’t punish us. We do that to ourselves. He loves us.”
Alice dabbed her eyes and gave Jules a watery smile. “I know that really, my dear, of course I do. And why not us? All families have their problems, don’t they?”
“Absolutely. You should meet mine!” Jules said with feeling. Her father made Richard Dawkins look religious and would probably never get over his only child becoming a vicar. Jules sometimes felt he’d have been less disappointed if she’d turned to crime or joined the Moonies. She often suspected he still lived in hope that she was just going through a phase.
“I just wonder sometimes if they can’t settle down now because of what happened all those years ago?” Alice’s mouth trembled. “Was there something I should have done?”
“From everything I can see you’ve done a great job of raising them all,” Jules told her warmly. “I don’t know any of your grandchildren that well, but the ones I have met seem pretty well adjusted and they all absolutely adore you. I know Danny has issues but those are completely understandable. I really wouldn’t worry about Jake and Mo either. Maybe they aren’t ready to settle down yet?”
Alice blew her nose. “Ignore me. I’m just being silly. But, Jules, if you’d met Danny before his injuries you’d understand why I think this way. He was the most easy-going young man you could ever meet. We never had a minute’s worry about Danny. He loved sport, worked hard at school and went to Sandhurst just as he’d always planned. Then he married Tara, Morgan came along and he was given a promotion. He was on his way to the top all right. Everything was always perfect with our Danny.”
Jules was starting to understand a little. Good-looking, well loved and talented, Danny Tremaine had lived an enchanted life until very recently. His landscape had shifted beyond all recognition. No wonder he was savage with rage, grief and fear.
“Alice, his life changed in a heartbeat. He’s not the same person that he was, physically or psychologically, and that must be so hard for you to deal with and even harder for him.” Jules frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Has he had any help?”
“Like counselling, you mean?”
“That would seem to be a good start.”
“He’s had countless sessions but he refuses to go to anymore,” Alice said wearily. “I’ve tried to convince him that counselling would help, but he says that talking won’t grow his arm back or heal his face. It’s pointless trying to reason with him and I can hardly force him. I’m not condoning Tara, and I’m sure there were already issues between them before he was hurt, but he’s impossible to live with and the drinking’s only getting worse. Nothing I say seems to make any difference. I worry so much because it isn’t good for Morgan either. Between you and me, his school have expressed concerns about Morgan seeming very unsettled lately. They want to refer him to someone. We daren’t tell Danny.”
Jules’s heart went out to the older woman. She noticed how thin Alice looked and that her eyes were smudged with purple shadows. Danny’s behaviour was taking its toll on others as well as the man himself; that was for certain.
“There you are Grand Gran!” The vestry door flew open and Morgan hurtled through, the picture of indignation. Shoving a huge watch under Alice’s nose, he added, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere and now it’s twelve thirty-two – and we’re always home by twelve forty-five on Sundays. Always.”
“Hello, Morgan,” said Jules.
Morgan ignored her. He was too busy hopping from foot to foot in agitation.
“Come on Grand Gran! We’ve only got thirteen minutes to get back. You’re going to have to walk really fast!”
“Dear me, I have been rabbiting on, haven’t I?” Alice placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Morgan, you mustn’t just barge in and interrupt people when they’re having a conversation, by the way. It’s best to knock first. Anyway, say hello to the vicar.”
“Yes, yes, hello!” Morgan tugged his great-grandmother’s jacket impatiently. He was oblivious to Jules and anything else but his need to be home by the specified time. “Now can we go? There’s only eleven minutes and thirty-six seconds left now.”
“It’s fine. Really,” Jules said quickly, catching Alice’s worried expression. The poor lady certainly had her hands full. “You guys get going. I’ll catch up with you later in the week.”
After the church door had shut with a firm click, Jules remained leaning against her desk for a long while, lost in thought. There was so much more to being a vicar than the public perception of wafting around in daft robes and doing the odd wedding or funeral. People were so complex; helping to ease their needs and their pain was the biggest part of her job. Jules knew that Jesus would have understood this, but unfortunately Sheila Keverne didn’t. Her verger had already made several cutting comments about Jules being seen helping Danny Tremaine home from the pub – and then she’d gone on to pick fault with her sermon too. Maybe I’ll do Luke 10:25 next week, Jules thought with a surge of determination. A reminder of the Good Samaritan parable was exactly what Sheila need
ed, although the bossy old boot probably would have found fault with him too!
Next Sunday’s homily decided upon, Jules quickly swapped her cleric’s shirt and trousers for jeans and a tee-shirt, and then locked the vestry. St Wenn’s would remain open until sunset; it was a pretty church with a breathtaking view of the village, and tourists loved to visit it. Locals also liked to pop in and find a little peace away from the bustle of the streets and busy shops, and Jules was pleased that her little church afforded them a quiet moment or two. There were no real valuables to steal and the climb up was so steep and inaccessible to cars that any thieves would need a good rest after reaching the place anyway. It was also highly unlikely that anyone could make it past Sheila’s cottage without being spotted. That woman ought to work for MI5.
It was another glorious May day and the sunshine was pouring down onto Polwenna Bay as though a giant had tipped maple syrup over the clusters of cottages. Jules walked slowly through the small churchyard, raising her face to the warmth and watching the gulls doing aeronautics in the cloudless sky before dive-bombing the tourists. Only yesterday she’d had an ice cream snatched by an opportunistic orange-beaked thief, which had actually made her laugh. Talk about an answer to all her please make me thinner prayers!
Jules was just about to let herself out via the little kissing gate that opened onto the winding path into the village, when she spotted a solitary figure seated on the bench overlooking the sea. Although he had his back to her she knew it was Danny Tremaine: there was no mistaking those broad shoulders or that shorn blond hair. Before she had time to think it through, Jules found herself doing a swift about-turn and joining him.
“Oh, it’s you,” Danny said. He could hardly look her in the eye, even from his good side. A brown paper bag, which was doing a very poor job of concealing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, was nestled by his feet; he made a half-hearted attempt to kick it under the bench when he saw Jules glance down.
[Polwenna Bay 01.0] Runaway Summer Page 13