A huge involuntary sob escaped from her throat, like a regurgitation of darkness and despair from her soul. And then against her will her eyes were drawn to the wardrobe. She had left the doors open and on the wardrobe floor she could see it, the evidence of her crime, which she had kept as a penance.
She let out a soul-deep cry of utter desolation. ‘I shouldn’t go anywhere.’ Muriel fell down on the bed and coiled up in a foetal curl. ‘I mustn’t. I’m not worthy. I won’t go anywhere ever again.’
* * *
Beth and Kitty were on their way to the vicarage to find out why Miss Oakley had not turned up for lunch or telephoned to cancel or postpone. The calls Christina had made to the vicarage had not been answered. The three women were worried about Miss Oakley. It was not her nature to be discourteous and simply not show up. Beth and Kitty were taking the motor car as a precaution in case Miss Oakley, or the Reverend Oakley, was ill and needed help or a doctor.
‘If we find all is not well, Mum is going to inform the church authorities. It’s their responsibility to ensure everything is well in each parish and to take care of the incumbents,’ Beth said grimly, adjusting her sunglasses as strong sunlight flashed through the high hedgerows and trees. Kitty, also wearing sunglasses, was driving fast but safely, her chin set grimly.
‘It’s a crying shame, the waste of Muriel Oakley’s life,’ Kitty muttered crossly. ‘One glance was enough to show she’d dried up and wilted away to almost nothing years ago. I hope we won’t be too late. I’ve a bad feeling about this.’
‘Me too,’ Beth admitted. She glanced at Kitty. ‘I agree with your pessimism over this but I’m only used to you being cheerful, Kitty. You’ve been down ever since your disappointment over that Rob Praed fellow. Are you sure there isn’t more to it?’
‘He snubbed me in front of his whole family. It hurt, that’s all. I felt such a fool.’ Kitty shrugged off Beth’s concern but her hurt was running with unaccustomed depth inside her.
A sense of shame mingled with Kitty’s hurt, and not a little anger. How dare that man treat her like someone he could pick up and drop at will, drop as if she was a damned nuisance to him? She was ashamed at how, a fortnight ago, she had eagerly dressed up and presented herself, with Joe and Richard, at Wildflower Cottage for afternoon tea. The boys had been shown into the front room where a perky, excited, slightly battered Lily was still being made to rest, and the children began a noisy game of Snap. As Kitty was a guest, Mrs Praed and Mrs Reseigh, who was also there, kindly refused her offer to help with the food and she was shown into the front room with a glass of parsnip wine (delicious), where she had to suffer the squeals and shrieks born out of the card game. Through the window she had seen Rob outside on the front lawn with the rest of the men, smoking and drinking from bottles of beer. The windows were wide open and the ultra-sweet heady scents of the riot of flowers were drifting inside, and she could hear their talk about the previous week’s fishing and other male-orientated stuff. Mark was with them, sitting on a bench, holding his gorgeous little black-haired girl possessively and proudly. While sipping the wine, Kitty had unsuccessfully tried to catch Rob’s eye. She was confident she was looking her best. She’d overheard Mrs Praed mention to Mrs Reseigh, ‘Miss Copeland’s some beautiful, isn’t she?’ Surely Rob would notice her in that way when his eyes finally alighted on her. He kept peering towards the garden gate and over the hedge.
‘Won’t be long till the food’s served, Miss Copeland.’ Judy Praed had popped her head round the door. ‘We’re just hoping one particular guest will turn up.’
Hoping one guest would turn up, Kitty thought. It was not certain this guest would arrive for tea.
‘Judy, she’s here!’ Alison Praed had called to her sister. ‘She’s actually turned up.’
Kitty got up and looked out of the window to see who this somewhat illustrious guest was. A beloved elderly relative brought by some form of transport, she had assumed it would be. She was surprised to see a slim, modestly dressed, slightly hesitant young woman being met at the gate by Rob, who had hurried to open it for her. The stranger looked vaguely familiar to Kitty. ‘Joe, can you come here please?’ Kitty appealed to him.
Joe had just triumphed in a game and he reached her at once. ‘Yes, Kitty?’
‘Who is this who has just arrived?’
‘That’s Evie Vage,’ Joe said quietly. ‘Beth’s half-sister.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, I remember seeing her knitting with your cousin Judy outside on the quay. It’s a pity Beth isn’t here to get another opportunity to meet her. She’s getting quite a welcome.’ Rob had been joined by his sisters, his Aunt Posy, Uncle Lofty, and Mrs Reseigh in the welcome party.
‘It’s unusual for her to go out much,’ Joe said in that same small voice.
‘It must be strange for you to have a sister who is sister to someone who has lived all her life in the cove.’ Kitty had put an understanding hand on Joe. ‘You’ve had a lot to get used to.’
‘You can say that again, and strange doesn’t even come into it. I’m even playing a childish game with a girl. But my father taught me to just get on with things. When Mum is happy, it’s all that matters to me.’
Kitty ruffled Joe’s hair. ‘You’re such a good person, so strong. I’m proud to have you as my friend.’
‘And me you.’ Joe had palmed down his hair. ‘Well, I’d better get back and thrash this lot at another game.’
Kitty had gone outside keen to meet Evie Vage, the sister Beth was so eager to see again. It was Mrs Reseigh, beaming and rosy-faced, who had introduced Evie to Kitty. ‘It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Vage.’
‘And for me to meet Beth’s best friend,’ Evie had said shyly.
‘Beth has talked about you a lot.’
‘I think about her a lot.’
Rob had been up close behind Evie, and Kitty had flashed him a sultry, hope-to-meet-you-alone-later smile.
In return Rob had given her a glowering short stare then tossed his head away, as if flicking away a troublesome insect. Kitty’s heart had plunged as if her whole self had been pushed off the cliff. Rob was not interested in her at all. His previous flirting and their kiss had meant nothing to him. But then, why should it? If things had gone further with him and there had been the chance, he would doubtless have tried to have full sex with her. To him it would have been only a fling with some well-off holidaymaker. She felt ashamed, because although she had hardly known him, and had been warned by his own kin that he was a womanizer, she had been so drawn to him, she knew that at some point she would have willingly given away her virginity to him. She had held off the men of her own circle from intimacy beyond kissing and cuddling, yet she would have thrown away her self-respect on a man who was simply not worth it. She had not learned from the glaring evidence of how this sort of shallow encounter had ruined Christina’s young life and come close to destroying her. How Beth’s probable affair with an unavailable man had caused her nothing but heartache. Rob Praed was a user of women and he was as rotten as Phil Tresaile had been.
She had been saved from revealing her agonizing embarrassment and resentment thanks to Posy Praed, who had announced the food was ready and invited the children and the women to go to the table laid out in the kitchen to help themselves. ‘I’ve made a cake to celebrate Lily’s recovery. There’s a candle on it for her to blow out, and we can all sing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow”.’
‘You’ll enjoy Aunt Posy’s baking, Evie,’ Rob had said to her in a kind voice before retreating back to his place among the men. Judy and Alison will take you in.’
Mrs Reseigh had escorted Kitty back inside. From then on Kitty had not glanced in Rob’s direction. There had been no more chance for her to speak to Evie, who was swept away by one Praed after another to look at the flowers and the vegetables, ‘As good as anything your father grows in his allotment,’ Kitty had overheard Lofty Praed laugh. Evie had brought a little gift for Lily of a knitted black and white cat,
and the recuperating girl and the gift were much gushed over.
The boys had got bored, and it was with absolute relief to Kitty that after the cake had been cut and served she could suggest they should now all quietly give their thanks and say goodbye and head back up the hill.
* * *
Kitty said, as she expertly swept the car round a sharp bend, ‘Beth, how long are you thinking of continuing your stay with Christina? You see, I’m thinking of returning home very soon. Stuart and Connie have just arrived home, and I’m missing them and the children. I’m missing everything at home. I love it here in Cornwall but now it’s time for me to leave. You’ll be perfectly fine at Owles House without me now, won’t you?’
‘Is that what has been on your mind?’ Beth looked pained. ‘I’m sorry, Kitty. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I, being so wrapped up in my own concerns. Of course you must feel free to go home as soon as you’d like. You’re bound to be missing your home.’ Beth could not bring herself to add, ‘And Stuart too.’ She didn’t want to think about him ever again. ‘Will you be all right on the train if I drive you to the station? I’ll be so sorry to see you go. I’ve been thinking a lot about my future and now I’m reconciled with Mum, and have Joe and Evie, and now I’m on good terms with my Uncle Ken, it’s without question that my future lies here in Portcowl.’
Just as her meeting with Evie had taken place unexpectedly, rather than having to knock on the door of Ken Tresaile’s living quarters at the Sailor’s Rest, Beth had come across her uncle out of doors. After ambling on slowly after Evie in the lane so they wouldn’t be seen together, Beth had reached the cove and was rehearsing in her mind how she would greet her uncle. She was hoping it would be Ken who she would see right away rather than one of his staff. She had arrived at a shop selling new and second-hand books, just the sort of place she liked browsing through. She marked it for her next excursion down here. A burly middle-aged man in a blazer and knitted patterned waistcoat and a blue tie emerged from the low doorway with a packaged book tucked in his hand, and he lifted his trilby to her. He was looking at her intently and kindly. ‘Elizabeth, do you know who I am? It’s your uncle, Ken Tresaile.’
She had known instantly who he was. Ken shared many of her father’s masculine features, so clear from the photographs her grandmother had kept for her, but with a milder edge. His hair was greying and his outline was less defined with the passage of time but he was still a rather attractive man. ‘Uncle Ken.’ It came naturally to her to call him that. ‘It’s Beth now. How strange, I was just on my way to call on you.’
‘You were?’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, I couldn’t be more delighted, Beth. Would you like to take my arm while we carry on to the pub? I’d be proud to show you off, my lovely young lady niece.’
Beth had felt proud to walk so close to her uncle. It felt good and important to be under the protection of an older male relative, something unknown to her before. She got to know many locals that day.
It had been strangely fascinating to see her father’s childhood home, the rooms homely with net curtains, chenille tablecloths, and linoleum and floral rugs. Phil’s little back bedroom, now a storeroom, had beams and a sloping ceiling. None of his things were left there. Ken had explained how Phil had thrown everything into the harbour waters on starting his new life. Beth had studied sepia photographs of her late grandparents and aged great-aunts and great-uncles. Relaxed with her uncle, feeling she had known him for years, she had asked him, over coffee and ginger fairings, to tell her everything about her father’s rebellious childhood. ‘And please don’t keep anything back. I’m resigned to the fact he wasn’t a good man.’
‘It was fun at first watching what Phil got up to.’ Ken had gazed wistfully at Phil’s wartime medals, sent to him as next of kin after his brother’s death. ‘Like knocking on people’s doors then running away, silly things like that. But then he became – and goodness knows why – wilfully disobedient, stealing, breaking people’s property, scaring the elderly. He even holed a dinghy once and there was nearly a disaster. He caused my parents no end of worry. They would have loved to watch you grow up, Beth, but sadly the hostility between all of us here and Phil was too great,’ Ken had voiced sadly. ‘It’s all such a shame when families don’t get on. Can’t tell you how pleased I am that’s all well with you and Christina, and to have you here, Beth.’
‘You’ll be seeing me again, Uncle Ken. I shall come here often,’ Beth had promised when she had said goodbye.
She had kept that promise and when she’d gone down to the pub she had usually managed to pass a few words with Evie while her half-sister had been outside knitting. The sisters had agreed to patiently hope Davey would come round to them wanting to be close, which would enable Evie to invite Beth into her home. Beth was resolved to somehow win over Davey Vage so she and Evie could enjoy a fully open relationship.
‘I’m thinking of selling up in Wiltshire, Kitty, and buying something here in Portcowl, but I’d still like to stay on with Mum and Joe for some time. In fact I was going to speak to you, Mum and Joe about it after we’d had lunch and Miss Oakley had gone home. I thought I was an only child but now I’ve discovered my father had other children. Now I know about my twin Philip I feel a more complete person. I hope he somehow knows he’s got his sister’s love as well as his mother’s. You will come down and visit us all often, promise me, Kitty? I’d hate to think of my life without you in it.’
‘Of course I will, dumb head, you couldn’t keep me away.’ Kitty glanced at her with a huge sunny smile. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased for you, Beth. All my hopes and wishes for you have worked out better than I could have imagined. I was so afraid we would be driving back with you in pieces, that if things had gone badly with Christina you would have been more frustrated and upset than before. I’m going to miss you so much when I get home, but it’s time for me to move on too. I love all the local craftwork here and I might open a shop selling country crafts, choosing from all over the country. It will give me scope to travel around Britain and buy the best. It will be fascinating.’
‘It certainly sounds it, Kitty. I’m delighted for you, and I’m glad you saw how uncouth that fisherman was. We’ll make a pact that sometimes I’ll join you on your travels. Who knows what adventures we might have.’
The friends were suddenly laughing, all the tensions amassed in the past weeks lifted away.
‘Perhaps Miss Oakley just got cold feet,’ Beth said, chewing her bottom lip, as they pulled into the vicarage grounds. ‘I mean, she hadn’t been invited anywhere for years. She must have been so nervous about it. I should have rung her first thing this morning to encourage her. I should have come here before but I didn’t want to crowd her. Evie mentioned she’s been here twice since bringing her home that day, and although Miss Oakley thanked her she put Evie off both times. Poor lady, she must be so miserable.’ Kitty stopped the motor car in front of the battered old door and turned off the engine. The women got out and gazed all about, peering at the windows.
‘It’s so quiet,’ Beth said, feeling chilly despite the pleasant heat of the day. ‘Too quiet.’
Kitty shivered the whole length of her body, and like Beth she wished she had brought a cardigan. ‘I found the church dark and creepy but this place is like something out of a horror movie.’ Beth nodded grimly. ‘Well, we’d better knock on the door and see what we find.’
Twenty-Three
Beth and Kitty stood uncertainly in the vicarage hall, edging closer together until they were linking arms. ‘Hello!’ Beth called out. ‘Miss Oakley! Reverend Oakley! Are you here?’
They received the same response as they had to their knocking on the door. Nothing. The silence in this bleak place was heavy, not a brooding sort of heaviness but one of waste and terrible sorrow, and there was the sense of something like decay. Decaying lives, Beth thought gravely.
‘We took the decision to step inside, Kitty, so we might as well look in some of the rooms. Miss Oakley or the
Reverend could be dozing somewhere. Somehow I doubt we’ll find him at home. I’ve a feeling he goes off and isolates himself for most of the day.’
‘Let’s try the study, the drawing room and the kitchen. They’re the most likely places we’d find someone,’ Kitty replied, trying to stare through the gloom. She waved her hand in front of her face in the vain hope of avoiding the cloud of dust motes apparent in the faint daylight. ‘Where did you take your lessons? It’s possible Miss Oakley might be in there.’
‘OK,’ Beth said. ‘I know where the rooms are, but we might as well glance in all the downstairs rooms.’ Beth dearly hoped one or other of the Oakleys would soon be located. She felt a dread of searching for them upstairs. As Kitty had mentioned for herself, she had a bad feeling about this.
A little later, she and Beth had returned from their search and stood at the foot of the stairs. Kitty declared as if choking, ‘My God, this place is worse than I thought possible. There’s dust and cobwebs everywhere, and the grime in that kitchen… It’s no wonder no one is invited inside. Miss Oakley must feel so ashamed and hopeless.’
‘Come on, no more pussyfooting,’ Beth said grimly, putting aside her dread. ‘We’re going to search the upstairs rooms. If we don’t find her, there might be some clue in her room to where she’s gone.’
The stairs creaked and heaved at their every step, giving the impression someone was creeping up behind them, and both Beth and Kitty kept glancing behind. ‘The atmosphere gets more and more depressing as we climb,’ Beth whispered to Kitty, wanting to put a handkerchief to her nose and mouth.
‘Let’s just look in the first bedroom,’ Kitty answered grimly.
Leaving Shades Page 21