A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) (15 page)
Read A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘So am I. I’ve run away to you because I’m so frightened. Just tell me what to do.’ She remembered how Dicky had stormed off downstairs, leaving her and Bryn in shock. She’d hurried Bryn down the stairs and out through the back, and then she’d gone to the bathroom
and showered and changed and redone her make-up and tried to pull herself together but she hadn’t been able to face Dicky so, like a coward, she’d run to a safe haven hoping for some answers.
She mistook Peter’s silence for an inability to give her an answer so she stood up again and made to leave. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you.’
‘Wait, just a moment. I can’t tell you what to do, that’s for you to decide. There’s nothing quite like removing oneself from a situation in order to get a perspective on it. Be honest, tell them or write them a note and tell them the
truth
of why you’re going. When you’re by yourself, think about what you want, not just for this year or next, but for
the rest of your life
. You won’t have the answer the first day and maybe not even the second but eventually you will. When you’ve decided, come back and be absolutely up front about your decision.’
Georgie looked up at him. ‘Do you know, I think you’re right.’
‘People might think it’s running away from your problems, but it’s not. What it is, is taking charge of your life again. Go today, tonight, straight away.’
‘I will. Thank you. Yes, I will.’
‘God bless you, Georgie, I shall remember you in my prayers.’
‘Thank you for that.’
Peter opened the study door for her and saw her out. He watched her walk away towards the Royal Oak and thought, what a mess human beings make of their lives. Then he thought about his own problem of the twins’ birth and knew he was no different from the rest of humankind.
Dicky had walked down the stairs knowing he was capable of murder. He imagined the feel of his hands round Bryn’s neck, sensed his own inhuman strength, slowly, slowly strangling him, almost felt Bryn’s body suddenly lack resistance as he collapsed at his feet. A grim smile crossed his face and a tear trickled down his cheek. He stood at the foot of the stairs gripping the newel post, trying to come to terms with what he’d found out. His mouth felt like a piece of arid desert, his teeth so dry they stuck to the insides of his cheeks. He could hear Trish and Alan talking, the sound of laughter from the bar, the clatter of cutlery and china in the dining room; none of it made any sense. Dicky felt black inside, emptied, voidlike. From upstairs came sounds of life, voices and movement. He couldn’t bear to be standing there so numb when they came downstairs, so he hurried to the storeroom and, leaving the door ajar, sat down on a case of something or other to brood and listen.
But he heard nothing except scurrying feet and haste, the bolt shot back, the door open, shut and the bolt refastened, and Georgie’s feet climbing the stairs again. He remembered how he’d loved to massage those same feet for her when they ached after a day behind the bar. But there was one thing for certain: he, Richard Tutt, wouldn’t be massaging her feet ever again. When he could hear the water running in the bathroom, moving like an automaton he went to where he had hung his jacket, took it down from the peg, laid it over his arm, took hold of the knob of the door bolt and thought he could feel the warmth of her hand still there, so he caressed it for a moment, a lump rising into his throat as he did so, then he
opened the door and left the Royal Oak, vowing it was for the last time.
He flung himself down on the sofa in his tiny cottage living room, lying there for what felt like hours, filled with black despair. His mind racing and racing through what had happened, trying to find reasons, while all the time his imagination shied away from thinking of them in that bed, together, touching, thrilling … everything which had belonged to
him
now besmirched by Bryn. Such an agonising betrayal, he couldn’t believe Georgie was capable of it. But she was. He groaned out loud and wept.
He woke when he heard Bel’s voice saying, ‘I’ve got away for half an hour, Dicky, love.’
He didn’t answer her. There wasn’t anything to say.
‘She’s gone. There was this letter on the mat. It’s from her, I recognise the writing. I’ll put the kettle on.’
It seemed only one tick of the clock when Bel came back in with the tray. She poured out his tea and pushed it close to him.
Dicky picked up the cup of scalding tea and burned his lips trying to drink it.
‘Silly boy, it’s straight from the pot. Put it down. Have you read the letter? No, I can see you haven’t. You’d better read it. I can’t, it’s got your name on it. I’d like to know what’s happened.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘No. I might be your sister but I’m not a mind reader. All I know is she’s packed her bags and gone. For a few days, I understand. I’ve been too busy in the dining room to get away any sooner. I do know she’s been to see the Rector and then come back and said she was taking a few
days off. She didn’t tell me, it’s only what I’ve learned from Trish and Alan.’
‘She and Bryn have … slept together today.’ He spoke as though he was having to prise the words out of his mouth.
Bel gasped with shock. ‘Oh, Dicky, love, I’m so sorry.’
‘As far as I’m concerned that’s it. I’m finished with her. The love of my life. Over. Done. Finished.’
‘Oh, Dicky!’ She kicked off her shoes and lay back in the easy chair, lost for words. All she longed for was his happiness. His total happiness. And here he was, broken to pieces. Gently she prompted him into action. ‘See what she says in her letter.’
Dicky handed it to her. ‘You read it.’
‘I can’t, Dicky, I can’t. I mustn’t.’
‘Read it!’
‘I …’
‘Do as I say.’
Bel opened the letter and swiftly read it through.
‘Out loud!’
‘Out loud? But it’s private.’
‘See if I care. Read it, please.’
Bel cleared her throat and in a shaky voice read out:
Dearest Dicky,
Can you forgive me for one moment of wrongdoing? It didn’t mean a thing to me, you’re all I care about. I’m so muddled. Peter said go away and think, and I am. But it’s you all the time.
All my love,
your Georgie
Dicky snatched the letter from Bel and read it through for
himself. ‘Hah! “
I’m so muddled
.” She’s not the only one. Muddled? I should say. So am I. I can’t understand the signals I’m getting. Does she or doesn’t she love me?’ Dicky’s voice broke as he asked that last question.
‘Oh, Dicky, I don’t know the answer to that one and neither does she apparently. Like she says, give her time.’ She went to get some biscuits from the kitchen, desperate for something to do to cover her distress. How could Georgie do this to him? Her loving, kindly Dicky didn’t deserve this. So patiently waiting for a divorce which never materialised and this was his reward. But sleeping with that creep, Bryn. God! How could she? How could she? Bel peeped round the kitchen door and saw that Dicky was still clutching the letter, lost in thought. He needed something to do. ‘They’ll be glad for you to get back to work; they were busy when I left. We’ll walk back together, eh? What do you think?’
Dicky refused a biscuit, looked up at her and said, as though making a public announcement, ‘I, Dicky Tutt, am not setting foot in that pub again.’
‘Dicky! Don’t be ridiculous. You must.’
‘There’s no must about it. I’m not.’ He swung himself round on the sofa and laid his head on one arm, his feet not quite touching the other. ‘See yer.’ He put his arms across his chest with the letter still in his hand. Briefly she thought he looked as though he’d been laid out.
Out of fright she said, ‘Dicky, don’t do this to yourself. The only one to lose out will be you. You’ve got to hang on to something. You can’t go back to that dreary, boring job you had, you hated it. In any case you’ve been too long away, it won’t be waiting for you, not now.’
Dicky ignored her.
Dicky still ignored her.
‘Right, well, I’ve got to go. I’ll sleep here tonight, I’m not leaving you on your own. So if you want to go to bed before I get back, make up the sofa bed. Right?’
Dicky nodded. Bel threw up her hands in despair and set off back to the Royal Oak with a heavy heart.
At Glebe House Bryn had just been handed Georgie’s letter. Guy gave it to him with an amused smile on his face. Bryn didn’t give him the satisfaction of opening it in front of him.
‘A billet-doux from the wife, no doubt.’
‘Probably.’ He tossed it on the table without so much as a glance, but he knew whom it was from and longed to open it. He’d no idea what the situation back at the Royal Oak was, because Georgie had whisked him out in a trice after Dicky had seen them both. Bryn had a prickly feeling down his spine still, after that glare Dicky had given him when he’d twigged what they’d been up to, the two of them. My God, there was still the old magic there. He couldn’t help a satisfied smile, forgetting that Guy was still watching him from the door.
‘Looks to me as though the cat has been at the cream. Good luck to you, man.’
Bryn waited for the door to close behind Guy and aimed a rude gesture at it. That Guy got more like his father every day. He opened the letter from Georgie and read:
Bryn,
I’m going away for a few days. When I come back I shall
have made up my mind what I want to do. The situation is tearing me apart.
Georgie
In Bryn’s mind there was no quandary for Georgie: he, Bryn Fields, was the obvious and only choice. Women! Ah, well, nothing but good would come out of her being away.
He turned his mind from Georgie and thought about the men he’d seen in the village street earlier that day. A visit to the pub might prove valuable. He was skilled at turning a conversation in the direction he wanted it to go and he remembered that when he’d lived in the village, before Elektra, there’d been someone down Shepherds Hill who had a son in the council offices. What was his name? He dredged his memory and came up with Kevin. That was it, his mother called him ‘our Kev’. If Dicky was there, well, so what, he presented no serious threat with the pub full of customers, not likely.
He heard Liz calling everyone for dinner. He sprang to his feet shouting ‘I’m coming’ and went downstairs to yet another of Liz’s beautifully prepared meals. He really couldn’t take advantage of their hospitality much longer. Maybe when Georgie came back she’d be ready for him to return to live above the pub.
When he got to the bar he found his luck was in. There, to his total delight, was Kevin’s mother ensconced on the settle, everyone’s favourite seat because it gave such a good view of the bar. He stood in front of her and said, ‘Can I buy you a drink for old times’ sake? What will it be?’
‘Why, it’s you. Throwing your money about, aren’t you?’
Kev’s mother nodded. ‘A double vodka, please.’
‘Orange with it?’
‘No, ta. I like it neat.’ Her small, brown, closely set eyes watched him march across to the bar counter. She knew only too well she wasn’t getting the drink for the good of her health; there’d be a catch somewhere. But what? she asked herself.
She toasted him and downed half the glass in one gulp. ‘Excellent.’ Bryn could see he was in for an expensive night if he didn’t watch his step.
‘They seem short-staffed tonight. They say Georgie’s gone off for a couple of days. And Dicky! Well, he’s nowhere to be seen, let’s put it like that. So I expect he’s gone with her. I don’t suppose you know anything about it, do you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Have they gone together?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. How’s your … what was his name? … the one who works at the council offices. I know … your Kevin.’
So that was it. He was after some information from their Kev. Well, he’d have to pay for it.
‘He’s doing fine. Been promoted. He’s in media and communications now.’
‘He’ll need to know everything about everything then, won’t he. A good chap to know.’ Quite by chance his fingers strayed to his wallet, which now lay on the table beside his glass. He fingered it delicately and looked at our Kev’s mother with a single raised eyebrow.
‘He’s well informed, oh, yes.’ She emptied her glass and put it down in the middle of the table.
‘Fancy another one?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Bryn, very kind. I don’t mind if I do.’
At the bar he asked Trish where everyone was tonight. ‘Dicky’s not turned in and Georgie’s gone to the coast, last-minute thing.’
It hit him like a massive clout on the side of his head. Dicky missing! They hadn’t gone together, had they? Surely not! He’d ignored what Kev’s mother had said about Dicky, but she might be right after all. Perhaps they had gone together. But not after he and she had … he’d left his wallet on the table alongside Kevin’s mother. In his confusion he grabbed the wallet, tried to take a note from it and fumbled it so out spilled the whole wad of fifty-pound notes and twenties. Kevin’s mother eyed it with relish.
Bryn paid for the drinks, took them to the table and said, ‘Shan’t be a minute.’
He fled to the dining room and found Bel clearing a table. He caught hold of her elbow and spun her round. ‘Your Dicky, where is he?’
Bel looked at him, hating every bone in his body, and said, ‘Are you worried about him, then?’
‘No … well, yes, well, no, not really, just tell me where he is.’
‘That’s his business. After what you’ve done to him I wish I could crush the life out of you with the heel of my shoe. You’re scum.’ She picked up the loaded tray and stalked straight past him.
‘Don’t walk away when I’m speaking to you.’