Casting the Net

by Pam Rhodes

  “Nothing to talk about,” said Glenda, leading the way into the lounge, where she sat down in the most comfortable chair. “Peter is my husband. This is our home. It has been for years. I’ve had a bit of a nervous breakdown, for which I deserve sympathy and understanding rather than condemnation, and now I’ve come back to the bosom of my family, where I belong.”

  “Not any more, you don’t! Not since you walked out on me for that slimeball you worked with.”

  “Well, that’s the first thing we agree on. Roland is a slimeball.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He used and abused me. He promised me the world, then betrayed my trust.”

  “Saw through you, did he? Or did he simply find you as difficult to live with as I have all these years?”

  “I understand your resentment, Peter, and find it totally understandable and forgivable.”

  Peter’s gasp of shocked indignation was completely ignored as she raised her voice even louder, this time directing her attention towards Neil.

  “But as you know, Reverend Fisher, this is a Christian family. We are a Christian couple who made our wedding vows before God. Those promises are not to be taken lightly, as I know you agree.”

  “It’s not me who has to agree, Glenda,” replied Neil. “This is Peter’s choice. I know him well enough to know that he was deeply hurt by the way in which your marriage broke down. He hadn’t seen it coming, so it was a dreadful, cruel shock. Christian marriage is based on love and commitment. It’s difficult to see any love in the way you left him – and you can hardly describe yourself as committed to the ideal of Christian marriage when you went off to set up home with another man after what seems to have been a long period of infidelity about which Peter knew nothing!”

  “If he’d been a more caring, more involved husband, he would have noticed. He would have seen my unhappiness and worked harder to improve our marriage.”

  “And if you’d had even a scrap of decency,” interrupted Peter, “let alone genuine love and concern for me, you’d have kept the vows you say are so important, and worked harder yourself to keep not just our marriage but our family together!”

  There was venom in Glenda’s voice as she spat back at Peter. “And if you’d been a real man, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere for fulfilment!”

  “But you did and I’m glad! Yes, it was a shock that you left, but a huge relief too. I’m glad you went. I’m glad this sham of a marriage is over and I want you out of my life once and for all! There’s no place for you here.”

  Glenda’s tone changed as she peered closely at Peter.

  “Well, you would want me gone, wouldn’t you, when you’re already playing house with that soppy Val? Dull, boring, probably frigid – it’s hard to imagine what you see in her, but I certainly know what she sees in you. This, for a start!” She flung her arms out towards the room they sat in. “She’s after whatever she can get from you, and who can blame her when you think of that ordinary little box she lives in? Oh, she’s got your measure, Peter. Years of running your own estate agency, a good pension – half of which, I’m pleased to say, the solicitors agree is due to me, along with fifty per cent of this house. But that’s not the point, is it, Peter? Does she know how comfortably off you are? Have you told her about your little nest egg, the rather substantial inheritance you got from your father? Oh, you did happen to mention it! What a surprise! She saw you coming, my poor deluded husband. Do you think she actually wants you? She’d have to be completely without a brain in her head. Oh, but now I come to think about it, she hasn’t got a brain in her head, has she!”

  “That’s enough, Glenda!” Even Neil was surprised by the force in his voice as he interjected.

  Mascara lay in black smudges beneath her eyes as she turned towards Neil.

  “I know. I’m sorry. This has all been so upsetting – to hear that my husband is planning to marry another woman when our marriage is not even over.”

  “That’s just a legal technicality, Glenda,” said Peter. “Our marriage was over years ago.”

  “Please don’t say that.” Glenda directed her tear-filled gaze towards Peter. “I know I’ve behaved unwisely. I know I’ve not always been the most accommodating wife. But I’ve changed. Everything that’s happened in the last few months has made me realize what really matters: family, loyalty, marriage. I know how important those things are to you too. You’re a decent man, Peter, and the honourable thing for you to do now is to accept that we must draw a line under the past so that we can build a new future – together, man and wife, as we were always meant to be.”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. Peter jumped up immediately and practically ran to the door. There was the sound of muffled voices before the lounge door was opened again – by Peter and Glenda’s daughter.

  “Christine!” smiled Glenda. “You’ve arrived at just the right moment to knock some sense into your stubborn old dad. You tell him! He’ll believe it from you. Tell him that any decent man would stand by his wife, whatever difficulties they’ve both been through. Tell him how much it would mean to John and you to see us together, with the family reunited. Tell him!”

  “Go and get your things, Mum,” said Christine quietly. “You’re coming home to Brighton to stay with Mark and me for a while.”

  “I most certainly am not!”

  “You’ve asked for a reconciliation, and Dad’s said no. Nobody blames him for feeling that way. So just get your things, and we’ll try and get ahead of the rush hour on the M25.”

  “You’ve no business talking to me that way, Christine. I am your mother!”

  “Then, just for once, behave like one. Show a bit of care for someone other than yourself, and leave Dad alone. You’ve ruined his life once. Correction, you’ve ruined his life for years. Let him find some peace at last.”

  “With that woman? He’s got absolutely no right setting up home with a nobody like her!”

  “He has a great deal more right than you had when you disappeared with Roland.”

  “I made a mistake. Perhaps if you’d all cared a bit more about how I was feeling, you could have saved me from making such a dreadful error of judgment.”

  “You made your choice, Mum, and for you in the end it was the wrong one. For Dad it was probably the greatest kindness you’ve ever shown him.”

  Christine moved over to perch on the side of the chair, putting her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

  “He loves Val, Mum, and she loves him – truly loves him in a way you never could. Let him go. Let him find his own happiness, just as we all hope eventually you’ll find yours.”

  “How can I be happy without a man to look after me?” wailed Glenda.

  “No man is ever going to make you happy. No one else can ever be responsible for your happiness because that’s your decision to make. And I don’t blame you for being scared. You’ve not lived on your own for years. Dad’s always been there to organize things around you. But you’re a strong and capable woman, Mum, you know you are.”

  “I’m not,” sobbed Glenda. “I’m really not! What will be become of me?”

  “Whatever you choose. We’ll help you – John and me and both our families. You may worry about feeling lonely, but you’re not alone. We love you and we’re all there for you. We’re not taking sides. We’ll be supporting Dad too, in whatever way we can. But you’ve got to let go of him, Mum. That’s the right thing to do.”

  Glenda’s shoulders sagged, as if all the fight had gone out of her, and as mother and daughter sat huddled together, Neil caught Peter’s eye, suggesting that it was time for them to leave. They slipped out of the lounge, then Peter collected all Glenda’s belongings strewn around the house while Neil piled them into the boxes that were still where she’d dropped them in the hall on the evening she arrived. Then they loaded the lot into Christine’s car just in time to see the two women emerging from the front door.

  Glenda didn’t look at Peter. She kept her eyes on the car as she walked down the gard
en path without a backward glance. Once her mother had climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door, Christine turned to draw her father into a warm, loving hug.

  “Thanks, Chris. This is good of you. I hope she won’t cause disruption at home.”

  “I teach teenagers for a living, Dad. I can certainly cope with a stroppy parent having a mid-life crisis.”

  Peter smiled. “I’m sure you can.”

  “By the way, we’d love to come!”

  For a moment, Peter looked puzzled.

  “Our invitation to the wedding arrived this morning, and we’d all love to be there. You and Val will have a very loving marriage, there’s no doubt about that.”

  Peter’s emotional response was muffled as he hugged Christine to him.

  “So just get on with that wonderful new life of yours, and leave Mum to me.”

  “Take care of her. She’s not all bad, you know.”

  Christine nodded in agreement as she turned towards the car, driving quickly away before Glenda could change her mind.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Steady there, Frank! Shall I take those?”

  Coffee in the church hall after the Sunday morning service was still in full swing. Neil was just hurrying out to St Gabriel’s for their weekly service when he came across Frank, his arms still around a box of collecting tins, swaying rather precariously.

  “Keep thinking I’m twenty years younger than I am,” mumbled Frank. “Can’t get up that fast any more.”

  “Right!” agreed Neil, taking the box out of his hands. “Take a seat and get your breath back for a while. Were you taking these over to the church?”

  Frank nodded, clearly winded by his dizzy spell.

  “I’ll take them. I’m going that way. You stay put.”

  “Everything all right?”

  Wendy suddenly appeared at Neil’s elbow.

  Frank shook his head dismissively. “Look, please don’t fuss. I’m absolutely fine. These days the blood just takes a bit of time to get to my head, that’s all. Margaret’s always nagging me to slow down.”

  “Me? Nag?” said Margaret, catching the last line of their conversation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Frank, what’ve you done this time?”

  “Got up too quickly,” explained Neil.

  Margaret’s expression darkened with concern. “Yes, I do nag you about that and now you see why. Give yourself a few minutes, then I’ll take you home.”

  Checking that the colour was returning to Frank’s face, Margaret turned to Neil.

  “You will remember to talk to David Murray after the service at St Gabriel’s this morning, won’t you? He’s got all the details for that burial there on Thursday.”

  “Yes, David’s as efficient as ever in his churchwarden duties, thank goodness. He assures me he’s got everything in hand.”

  “He was saying,” mused Margaret, “that he remembers Vera Dunton from when he was a boy. Her family farmed all the land backing onto St Gabriel’s for ages, but the new estate has swallowed up most of that area now. From what her son Philip was telling me on the phone, I don’t think Vera could have seen much of that. Her husband died about twenty years ago, and she’s been living up in Gateshead near Philip and his family ever since.”

  “So now she’s coming home?”

  “There’s been a Dunton family plot at St Gabriel’s going back two centuries or more, so it’s only right that it should be her final resting place. You still OK to do her service on Thursday?”

  Knowing that Thursday was always Margaret’s day off, Neil nodded agreement just as Wendy helped Frank up to join them. Margaret slipped her arm through her husband’s, and the couple headed off, talking quietly together as they went.

  “I need to get a move on,” said Neil, still clasping the box of collecting tins. “I’m due at St Gabriel’s in fifteen minutes.”

  “Are you going to the vestry?” asked Wendy.

  “To pick up my robes, yes.”

  “I’m heading that way too. I need my box of kids’ percussion instruments for school tomorrow.”

  Closing the door behind them, they stepped through the wrought-iron gate and started down the path through the graveyard towards the back of the church. Yesterday’s icy March wind had unexpectedly given way to a warm spring morning, with a touch of sunshine peering through soft white clouds dotted across the pale blue sky.

  Both Neil and Wendy found their eyes drawn towards the Clarkson family plot. Ever since Ellen’s funeral, there had been a constant supply of fresh flowers beside the white marble headstone marking where she was laid. Neil’s heart lurched as he saw the first flowers appearing on the daffodils thoughtfully planted by Claire as a touching annual reminder of the dearly loved little girl. Claire! His heart filled with love at the mere thought of her.

  “I can never walk past here without thinking of that tiny white coffin being lowered into the ground.”

  Wendy’s voice was almost a surprise as she stood close beside him, their arms touching as she continued. “I still can’t believe we’ve lost her. Why does God let something so awful happen?”

  “Perhaps we’ll never know this side of heaven,” replied Neil, his eyes still on Ellen’s grave. “Every day we pray that his will be done, and we just have to trust in him, and that God is in everything. He’s a loving God, our heavenly Father. We know that he understands our suffering, because he saw the suffering of his own son.”

  “It’s very hard though,” whispered Wendy, her head falling gently against his shoulder.

  A bolt of alarm shot through Neil at the intimacy of the gesture.

  “I never had chance to thank you for your kindness after Ellen’s funeral,” continued Wendy. “You’re a very dear and special man, Neil. Oh, I know you don’t love me any more. I understand that I’m just not good enough to be what you need…”

  Looking down at the sadness in her upturned face, Neil felt a wave of sympathy wash over him.

  “Wendy, don’t think that. You’re a wonderful woman. Whatever went wrong between us was most certainly my fault. Please don’t think for a moment that you failed in any way…”

  “But you don’t want me.”

  “Wendy, I…”

  “And I hear you have a new woman in your life.”

  Neil stared hard at her.

  “I hope she’s good to you, Neil. I hope she loves you as much as I always will, as much as you deserve.”

  Immobilized by the shock waves coursing through him, Neil stood helplessly as she slowly lifted her face up so that her lips met his for a few heart-stopping seconds before she turned on her heel and walked away.

  * * *

  The following Thursday morning Neil arrived at St Gabriel’s in good time to make certain everything was organized for Vera Dunton’s burial. Her coffin was due to complete its journey from Gateshead and arrive in the village of Minting around noon. He was glad that David Murray was on hand to help because, as churchwarden at St Gabriel’s for the best part of thirty years, David took great pride in the welfare of both the elderly building and its dwindling congregation.

  David was waiting in the porch when Neil arrived, and the two men wandered over to where the grave had been dug ready for Vera’s burial.

  “You knew her, didn’t you?” Neil asked.

  “She was a bit of a battleaxe, as I recall,” said David, his eyes narrowing as he delved deep into his childhood memories. “I used to go past her house on the way to school, and she’d sometimes shake her fist at us if she thought we’d been pinching her apples or picking up conkers from under her horse chestnut tree.”

  “What was her husband like?”

  “He never spoke to us much really, but, to be fair, it was a big farm to look after and there was only him to do most of the work. I always thought he had twinkly eyes though, and I think Philip got on well with his dad.”

  “You know Philip? You’ll be meeting an old friend today, then?”

  “Well, he was several years old
er than me, so I didn’t know him well. He played rugby with my brother, and came to the house after matches sometimes. He got a job as a salesman, I think, and that’s what took him away from the area. I only heard quite a while after his dad had died that he’d married and was up in the north-east. My mother told me that Vera found it so difficult trying to run the place on her own that a couple of years later she moved up to live next door to Philip and his family.”

  “What happened to the farm?”

  “Well, that was a bit of a family scandal, really. It was mostly before my time, but my mum and dad said the whole village knew about it. Vera had always loved farming from the time she was a little girl, but Herbie, her brother, never really got on with farm work. That didn’t go down well for the only son in a family who’d been farmers for generations. The story went that he ran away to sea when he was just a teenager and was in the navy for quite a while – but then, when his father died, he inherited the lot, even though he had no interest in it beyond what it was worth.”

  “Nothing for Vera, then, even though it was her husband who was keeping the farm going?”

  “It didn’t work like that in those days, did it? The eldest son always took over the family business. Any daughter in the family was expected to get married, and then it was up to her husband to look after her.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, the first thing Herbie did was to sell off about half the property, including several big old barns with planning permission for them to be converted into houses.”

  “The ones over the back? Isn’t that where Angela Barker lives?” asked Neil, thinking of the busy, well-known Barker family, whose members often came along to services both at St Stephen’s and St Gabriel’s.

  “Interesting you should mention her. Angela and Keith had all sorts of trouble with Vera when they first moved into that barn.”

  “Why?”

  “Vera hated them and made her feelings known in every way she could.”

  “Just because they were the people who bought the place?”

  “I don’t suppose it mattered to Vera who they were. Apparently she was furious that her father had left the farm to her brother when he plainly didn’t want it, but when Herbie started selling off the land and barns, she was beside herself with anger. Her husband was carrying on doing all the work, keeping what was left of the farm running, while Herbie cleared off to do his own thing with all the money.”