by Nicola Slade
‘So,’ he inhaled lazily, ‘there was summat funny about him, wasn’t there? Wife disappeared or summat like that. It was in the papers, I do know that. Journalist came down from London, musta bin in the summer, not much proper news on, daft buggers.’
‘What do you mean, she disappeared?’ Finn’s voice was sharp and anxious.
‘What I say. I don’t remember the details, girl, it was in my bad old days.’
Finn was unable to leave it alone.
‘You mean she … They thought she was dead?’ Her voice rose in a squawk.
‘I dunno.’ Hedgehog was clearly bored with the subject. ‘Probably did a runner, but it makes you think, dunnit? What kind of bloke is he, to have that happen?’
None of Finn’s wheedling or nagging managed to elicit any further information so she shoved the problem to the back of her mind where it gnawed away. I can’t ask Charlie, she fretted, and there’s nobody else I can discuss it with. Julia doesn’t know any details, though I suppose she could ask Jamie. No, I can’t ask her to do that, and anyway, he might mention it to Charlie and I couldn’t bear that. But I’ll have to ask him as soon as it’s feasible.
Asking Charlie anything soon became a remote possibility.
‘Have you heard what those insane geriatrics are up to?’ He burst into the shop – mercifully empty – the next afternoon.
‘What?’ She was almost frightened, his face was contorted with anger. ‘What do you mean? Are they all right? Julia?’
‘All right?’ He gave a bitter laugh and paced round the shop. ‘Of course they’re all right, they’ve just bloody crazy. Didn’t you know? I’ll lay it out for you then: my father and your sister and the whole barking crew are raising funds to pay for a holiday for themselves – themselves, mind – in the West Indies! It’s just a cover story, this business of collecting for the poor old folks.’
‘You’re kidding?’ Finn’s immediate reaction was a disbelieving laugh which petered out as she saw his face. ‘But … I don’t understand. How can they do that?’
‘You might well ask.’ He ceased his pacing for a moment and shook his head. ‘Christ, if any word of this gets into the papers they’ll be crucified.’
‘Oh, come on, Charlie.’ Finn’s normal optimism reasserted itself. ‘Get this in proportion. Is what they’re doing actually criminal? No, I don’t believe it would be. They’re not that stupid, or at least my sister isn’t.’
‘And my father is? Thanks very much.’ He glared at her.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ She couldn’t believe he could be so touchy. ‘Don’t start on me; it’s not my idea.’
‘I might have known you’d sympathise with them.’ He turned on his heel and stalked out of the shop, head down and shoulders hunched.
‘Charlie?’ Finn shook herself out of her state of suspended animation and ran after him, but a knot of passers-by and a mini traffic jam concealed him from her view. Why is he taking it out on me, for God’s sake? How can he blame me?’ Anger began to bubble up at the injustice of Charlie’s attitude and she spent the rest of the afternoon in a ferment and the evening alternating between anger and controlling her impulse to pick up the telephone and call him. ‘No, I won’t,’ she announced to the walls of her flat. ‘He’s the one who started this, he can get in touch to apologise.’
Julia sulked for a day or so at Delia’s high-handed interfering with regard to Hugh but her kind heart melted after only glance at Rosemary’s delicately balanced happiness, a welcome antidote to the grim determination radiating from her younger sister.
‘Oh Julia!’ Rosemary flitted in one morning, Margot safely despatched to the day centre. ‘It’s wonderful. I can’t believe it’s happening to me.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m just waiting for something awful to happen.’
‘For goodness’ sake.’ Julia sounded, and was, irritated. ‘Just enjoy yourself for once. How long is it since you had a relationship with a man? Ten years, didn’t you say? Well then, lie back and enjoy it.’
Rosemary had told her, soon after they became friends, about her long relationship with a married man.
‘He couldn’t possibly get a divorce, he was a devout Catholic,’ she insisted and frowned when Julia, a lapsed Catholic herself, snorted, ‘Not that devout, if he had a mistress.’
It had gone on for fifteen years, from just after Rosemary’s thirty-fifth birthday. ‘The usual thing,’ she said sadly. ‘You know, snatched meetings when his wife was away, a week once, wonderful but furtive, in Paris when he was there on business.’
It had ended one morning as Rosemary called the register at school. His daughter, who was in Rosemary’s class, was absent. ‘Anyone know if she’s ill,’ Rosemary had asked casually. And then, in a babble of schoolgirl voices, she heard what had happened.
‘A heart attack, Miss Clavering.’
‘Yes, her father, Miss Clavering, just dropped down dead yesterday on the golf course.’
‘And I had to go on taking the register,’ Rosemary told Julia. ‘I just said, “Oh dear, how sad”, and carried on.’
Looking at her now Julia felt a moment’s satisfaction in how far her friend had travelled in the last months.
‘I adored him,’ Rosemary had told Julia. ‘He was the love of my life, I gave up the chance of having children to be with him and I’ve never, ever looked at another man and I know I never will.’
Remembering the burning zeal of Rosemary’s exasperating martyrdom Julia was too kind to remind her friend of this declaration. As for Delia’s devastating analysis of Julia’s own needs, she had to acknowledge the accuracy.
****
‘Tell you what, Julia,’ Jamie told her that evening as they sat on Julia’s sofa watching Newsnight. ‘Even though I have grave misgivings about Bobbie’s impending initial fund-raiser – I mean, second childhood is one thing, but this is ridiculous! – I’ll be damned glad to get out of Charlie’s way. Roll on the Old Parsonage, he’s like a bear with a sore head at the moment.’
‘I know, but Bobbie was so pleased with her plan and Delia – well, I reckon she’s egging them on out of sheer mischief. Not to worry, it’ll be fun. As for our dear young things, Finn can be difficult, too,’ Julia sympathised. ‘To do her justice she’s a lot less puritanical about our little venture than your po-faced son but at the moment she’s in such a temper with him, for blaming her, that she’s impossible to deal with. The trouble is, of course, that they’re not our dear young things. They’ve both been bruised over the years and they’re just plain wary. I wish to goodness Charlie’d get his socks on and apologise to Finn, then we can all settle back down to peace and quiet.’
‘No chance of that happening at present,’ Jamie shrugged ruefully. ‘Charlie’s right up there on his high horse, waving the flag of righteous indignation and anyone who’s against him is taboo. My theory is much the same as yours, that he’s protecting himself against any further hurt but there’s nothing much I can do, he won’t listen.’
He eased himself into a more comfortable position and smiled down at her. ‘Why are we worrying about them? They’re supposed to be grown up, after all. Let’s talk about us instead. Do you realise that when I move into the Old Parsonage life will be a lot less restricting. No need to worry about Charlie upstairs, or Finn here at your place.’
‘But I thought …’ Julia stammered to a halt. How, exactly, do you suggest to a man that you understood he had a problem with impotence, or erectile dysfunction as the adverts coyly put it?
‘Ah!’ He read her mind and grinned infuriatingly, giving her a hug. ‘That little problem will be sorted out by then. Not been able to bring myself to talk to the doc, but had a word with Finn’s boss. You know? Hedgehog, they call him. Apparently he can get hold of all kinds of things.’
Taking advantage of her astonishment he lunged at her, tackling her bra strap with a skill that also surprised her.
‘Wow!’ Julia was rosy and dishevelled, cuddled close in Jamie’s arms after an extremely satisfyi
ng fifteen minutes. ‘If that’s a sample of things to come, I’m all for it. What got into you, Jamie? I thought you were only interested in a platonic friendship? You’ve certainly never made a move on me before.’
His satisfied smirk spoke volumes.
‘I was playing hard to get,’ he boasted, idly stroking her breast. ‘Oh all right, I suppose I didn’t want to risk not being able to function, and I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I kept it strictly on a low level. But now – well, as I said, Hedgehog’s going to help me out, though I’m not so sure I need it after all, and I think we can look forward to a new era.’
Julia shrugged herself back into her clothes and fetched them both another drink, looking very thoughtful.
‘What? What’s the matter?’ His face was crestfallen. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Oh I am,’ she reassured him hastily. ‘You have no idea. Or at least, I suppose you have only too good an idea. It’s not that, Jamie. It’s just … Oh, Lord, I don’t quite know how to put this.’
She drew a breath and dived in.
‘You’re right, I shall love it if we can get it together with some kind of sex life. Purely selfishly what we just did would be fine by me, but you need satisfaction too and if Viagra works, whoopee!’
‘Well, then?’
‘It’s not that. Oh for heaven’s sake, Jamie, it’s this Old Pretender thing. If we’re going to get involved to that extent I’m not putting up with you coming out with that rigmarole to every single soul you meet. I don’t want to hurt your feelings and I know it’s important to you, but it’s a seriously insane complication I can do without.’
To her immense surprise Jamie Stuart burst out laughing.
‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to pluck up courage to give me a rocket about that.’
‘You … you mean you don’t mind my saying that? You’re not upset?’
‘Look, Julia,’ he spoke seriously, ‘as you rightly say, the belief in our descent from the Stuarts is very important to me and I don’t intend to deny it at this late stage. But you’re quite right, I really must stop boring on about it to all and sundry. I know how embarrassing I always used to find my own father and grandfather – and if you think I’m a fruitcake, you should have met Grandpa! It was only after Janet died that I really got into it; became a bit of an obsession, I suppose, something to fill up the emptiness.’
She was touched, Jamie rarely mentioned his adored wife.
‘I suppose, as well, I did it out of mischief to annoy Charlie and it rather got out of hand and I was stuck with a joke that rebounded on me. He’s had such a rough ride of late that maybe I thought a counter-irritant might take his mind off his troubles.’
Julia laughed as they said goodnight.
‘I think you may have overdone it with Charlie,’ she murmured as they shared another of those surprising and passionate embraces. ‘I imagine there have been days when he’s been inches away from summoning the men in white coats to cart you off.’
****
Next day Charlie Stuart really was on the brink of calling for the straitjackets.
Finn and Hedgehog were in the middle of rearranging the shop window – dragons on stone, dragons on glass, dragons draped over a bronze indoor water feature – when the phone rang.
‘Finn, it’s me. I’m in The Square, you’ve got to get over here, right now.’
‘Really?’ Finn’s response was chilly. ‘I can’t think of any reason why I should do anything just because you say so.’
‘Oh? How about if I tell you that your sister and my father and some of their friends have set up as buskers and are singing in the street, with a hat in front of them for the money?’
‘Jesus! Okay, yes, that’d do it. On my way …’
‘What the hell do they think they’re doing?’ Charlie was almost howling with wrath when he spotted her running across The Square from Paradise Row. ‘Apart from anything else I could lose customers if they connect me with this.’ He bent his furious glare on her and added, ‘And don’t you dare try and tell me I’m being crass and materialistic, it’s a real risk and I’ve got a living to make.’
‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ she retorted, panting. ‘This time I’m with you completely. They’ll be a laughing stock.’
People were laughing all right, but not in the way Finn imagined. When she finally reached the scene of the crime she had to stop running, partly to catch her breath but mostly to giggle, along with an increasing crowd of onlookers, the only dissenting voice coming from a shapeless old woman.
‘Silly old fools, what a performance,’ she declared before straightening her hat and stomping off to the bus station.
The gang had chosen fancy dress for their first fund-raiser. No whisper of their plans had leaked out as they had hugged the secret to their chests, and no wonder. Finn gazed in hysterical disbelief at the superannuated schoolgirls and boys who were valiantly singing songs from the Forties, Fifties and Sixties. The women wore what, in some cases, looked like authentic gymslips with black tights and straw hats and the men were in grey flannel shorts, made from cut-off trousers, with jackets or, in Jamie’s case, a striped blazer of venerable vintage. Jonathan was lurking at the back with a false moustache and dark glasses concealing his face lest any crony of Pauline’s should pass by.
‘Saint Trinian’s!’ Finn turned to Charlie and clutched at his arm. ‘Hang on a bit, Charlie. Don’t rush in and make a scene, nobody’s laughing at them, they’re just joining in the fun. Oh my God.’ She started to giggle again. ‘Oh look, I’ve just spotted Delia Muncaster, look at her!’
Delia was singing lustily as part of a chorus consisting of Ursula, Marek and herself, accompanied on the guitar, with surprising skill and brio, by Bobbie wearing what turned out to be her mother’s 1940s guide uniform. Somehow Delia managed to retain her customary elegance, even in a brief green smock-like garment that hung like a sack above her thin, black-clad legs.
‘Come on, Charlie,’ Finn coaxed, forgetting that she wasn’t speaking to him. ‘Look at the money that’s pouring in; that guy just dropped a five pound note into the hat. Give them a break, they’re not doing any harm, after all.’
Charlie was clearly beginning to retreat from his high moral ground, a process helped by the confiding hand tucked into his. He looked down at her and then at the ridiculous performance in front of him, and sighed.
‘Oh, all right. Tell you what,’ He steered her towards the group. ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Any straw hats going spare, Pa?’
Jamie, who was doing lead vocals with Julia, grinned and pointed to the back of the group where their coats were heaped against the statue of the local bigwig which stood in the centre of The Square. Charlie jammed a hat on his own head and reached into his pocket for his Ray-Bans. He picked up another boater for Finn and turned to see her hastily plaiting her long blonde hair into two thick pigtails. Suitably clad, they cast aside common sense and wriggled into place beside their irresponsible elders.
‘Jolly hockey sticks!’ hooted Delia, despite the fact that she was waving a battered lacrosse stick. ‘How do you like my jibbah, Finn? This highly flattering garment,’ she added, as Finn looked understandably confused, ‘we used to wear them for games and horribly unsuitable they were too. Unlike then, I’m wearing thermals underneath today.’
‘What’s next on the programme?’ Charlie grabbed the song sheet.
‘Just starting on the songs from Oklahoma,’ Julia chuckled at his rolled up trousers and tie pulled askew. ‘Can you sing, Charlie?’
‘Of course he can,’ Jamie chimed in proudly. ‘Charlie was a chorister at Exeter Cathedral choir school till his voice broke. He’s a first-class baritone now.’
Finn glanced at Charlie and caught his eye. He responded with a smirk of false modesty and held out an olive branch.
‘I apologise, okay?’
‘Oh, all right,’ she said grudgingly but was secretly delighted when, a
s the gang broke into song, Charlie took her hand as they shared the songsheet.
‘I knew you could sing,’ she told him later as they cemented their refound friendship in the White Horse. ‘I mean, you’re like me, we both sing along in the car and so on, but I’d never heard you singing seriously. Your father’s right: you have got a lovely voice.’
****
‘I’ve set things in train for our next fund-raising efforts.’ Delia Muncaster seemed to have elected herself chairman of the group to nobody’s dismay and to everybody’s immense relief. ‘I think we’d better go for rather less high-profile affairs than our busking experience, I was hard put to find a suitable comment when that chap from the Gazette asked me which charity we were supporting. I had to take him off to the White Horse and pour whisky down his throat. Luckily he had no stamina and was also venal, so he took a bribe to drop the story.’ She gave a crocodile smile at the thought.
‘There aren’t enough of us to muster for a jumble sale and it’s not something we’d make much money from anyhow. What I’ve done is book two tables at the antiques fair in the Town Hall in Ramalley on Sunday so I need you all to start looking out for things to put on the stall. Settle down, settle down …’ She raised a hand to quell the mutterings of dismay that arose. ‘It’s not as daunting as it sounds, we can just put any old stuff on, it’s not a high calibre do. Any old bits of china, glass, old table runners, prints, that sort of thing. Now, first of all we need a collecting point. Who’s got an empty room we could use? No good trying to sort stuff in a garage, now the weather’s broken. Bobbie? You volunteering? Good girl. Hear that, everyone? Start handing your odds and ends to Bobbie.
‘We’ll also need newspaper for wrapping and loads of plastic carrier bags to send the punters away happy. The rest of you can provide them; I never bother with bags, Threshers always send my deliveries by the box. Now don’t whinge, we got off to a flying start with our impromptu busking. The fifty-eight quid we picked up there will pay for the tables at the antique fair, for a start, and kick off our savings account.’