A Village Feud (32 page)

Caroline listened right through to the end of the story without flinching, except for some agonizing, horrified groans which she couldn’t hold back. Her hands, clasped in his, trembled from start to finish. He was right, it was ghastly, and they’d never be able to talk about it to anyone except each other.

‘So there you have it. Now you know it all.’ Peter looked steadily at her, waiting for her response. ‘Now you know why they are so afraid and why I shrank from telling you.’

She released her grip on his hand and reached out to stroke his cheek with tender, loving fingers. ‘No wonder you couldn’t find the words. No wonder at all. I can hardly take it in. I even began to get angry with Beth when she wouldn’t confide in me. Now I know why she wouldn’t. How can a child tell her mother she’s helped to murder someone? I’m ashamed of myself. Poor Beth. Dear precious Alex, bless his heart.’

‘They were so afraid of some terrible punishment coming down on them.’

‘Is that how they see it? How did they come through it all? How did they bear it? You see, Alex is just like you, strong and protective, willing to take responsibility to save others from anguish.’

‘He’s worried about Beth, he says.’

‘I’m sure he is. So am I. I can see why she was driven to carrying that knife with her. That Andy Moorhouse has a lot to answer for. Does he show any remorse?’

‘Almost. He’s thinking about things, at least.’

‘Do you think that gradually they’ll get over it? That it won’t colour everything they do for ever?’

‘That’s something we won’t have an answer to for a long while, if ever.’

Caroline trembled. ‘I’m glad you’ve told me, if only for your own sake. It’s too much to carry alone. Don’t blame yourself for it, my darling. After all, I agreed to go and I could have said no and not gone and kept the children here, and you would have agreed.’

‘Darling.’ Peter put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I wanted to spare you this. It’s been very hard for me to tell you, especially as the children didn’t want you to know. But I, as an adult, knew you
had
to be told.’

‘I shall tell them I know. Somehow. Sometime. Then we’re all together in this.’

‘Yes, you’re right. All together.’ He leaned forward to kiss her lips, a kiss that began as a tender salute to her bravery and turned into a kiss full of rugged desire and which drew an eager, clamouring response from her.

The telephone rang and Peter said, ‘Dammit, they’ll have to leave a message.’ So they went down the stairs to their bedroom to the sound of Sheila Bissett’s voice asking when she could come to see him about some new ideas she had for the Harvest Festival.

Expecting Peter would relent and pick up the receiver, Caroline began to protest, because above all,
at this moment
, she wanted the two of them to make love to celebrate the understanding they’d finally reached and above all to express their passionate love of each other, but he silenced her protest by kissing her again and beginning to undress her.

Sheila came round the following afternoon to tell Peter her ideas. ‘I know you’ll like what I have to tell you. It’ll put a new slant on the whole festival, and we’ve never done it before.’

‘Come into the study.’

Ah, thought Sheila, the study, the place in her mind she called the confessional. It was so comfortable in there, secret and kind of womb-like and reassuring.

‘You sit down and tell me all.’

Sheila settled herself, put her handbag beside her and began. ‘For the Harvest Festival we always have the Morning Service, put our offerings of fruit and veg round the altar table, then go back and sit down, and that’s it over with for everyone, apart from the people who volunteer to take the stuff into Culworth and deliver it to the residential homes and the Women’s Refuge and such. So my new idea would involve people more. Well, I’ve heard it said that sometimes they get so much stuff from so many churches, all round about the same weekend, that sometimes they are guilty of having to throw it away because they can’t eat it fast enough. So …’ she took in a deep breath, ‘I thought maybe after the Service we could all go and have lunch, like a Ploughman’s or some such – easy you know, three pounds fifty a head – in the big hall and then have an auction to sell all the produce. The money could then go to
buying
something for the Refuge or the residential homes that they really need instead. There, what do you think?’

‘Mmm.’

‘I know other churches that do this, except we’ve never done it.’ She cocked her head speculatively at him and waited for his reply.

‘Should we sound people out about this? Have you discussed it with anyone else?’

‘Of course not, I’ve come to you first.’ She relaxed enough to say gushingly, ‘You know, we’re so glad you’re back. All of us are. It’s lovely sitting in here and talking like we used to. I always feel so free to talk to you.’ Whoops! thought Sheila, I’d better be careful, those eyes of his …

Peter’s answer alarmed her. ‘I was sorry to hear about Louise’s tragedy. It must have been a terrible blow to you all, losing a baby like that, I can’t think of anything worse.’

Sheila went quite wobbly inside that he’d so astutely picked up on her thoughts. The sincerity of what he’d said couldn’t be denied, but she’d never intended mentioning it. ‘Yes, I mean, no. He was very premature, you know, and not just that he was badly … well … let’s call a spade a spade, deformed is all you could call it. The hole in his heart, his hare lip, his cleft palate, his twisted feet and legs, possibly blind too, they thought. He’d have needed years in hospital to put everything right, if they ever could, which I doubt … it was heartbreaking to see him. Gilbert, I’ve never seen him so distressed, but he was willing him to pull through. Poor, dear little Roderick, so tiny. It broke my heart.’

‘I’m so sorry, Sheila. I just wish I could have been here, perhaps I would have been able to help in some way.’

‘You would’ve, though Anna was excellent. They both found it hard when he died, so very hard, but, you know, it was for the best. When you think what happy lives their other children lead, little Roderick would have had nothing but pain in his young life. I think eventually even Gilbert saw it the same way as me.’

She got out her handkerchief and blew her nose.

Peter said, ‘You felt it for the best when he died?’

‘Of course, what else could a grandmother think? It sounds hard, but it was hard facts that had to be faced. I … felt nothing but relief, and I just couldn’t grieve for him, but I did for Gilbert and Louise, they took his death very badly.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

Sheila pulled herself together, stuffed her handkerchief in her bag and said, ‘Well, now, I’ll leave it to you to ring me when you’ve decided. The WI will make the Harvest lunch and serve it, I’m sure. The other thing I’ve thought of is we could sell the flower arrangements, too. That would bring in quite a bit, wouldn’t it?’ She heaved herself out of the comfy sofa and before she made her way to the study door she said, ‘Thanks for listening, I feel better now.’

Peter said, ‘Well, perhaps telling me has healed things a little for you. You were in a very difficult situation, weren’t you?’

Sheila looked up into his eyes and her gaze faltered as she saw the intense, penetrating look in them. She said very emphatically, ‘Don’t discuss anything with Ron, he knows all he needs to know. And certainly not with Louise, they’re trying so hard to put it all behind them. They’re striving to be normal, you see.’

‘Of course, of course.’ Peter wasn’t entirely sure that he and Sheila had been talking about the same thing. Had she or hadn’t she hastened Roderick on his way? Nothing she’d actually said implied that, but nothing he’d said did either. ‘Bye, Sheila, I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. I think it’s a very good idea; it will make much more of a celebration of the Harvest, won’t it?’

The telephone rang then, and he had to switch his mind to other things.

Beth and Alex, unaware that their father had explained to their mother what had happened in the bush, were improving by the day. They sometimes went down to Dottie’s and on two occasions had gone into Culworth on the bus and enjoyed shopping, walking round the market and meandering along beside the river.

Caroline was thrilled at their progress and, when Beth began talking about getting back to school after the summer holiday, and really sounding as though she meant it, she was ecstatic.

‘We’re having a week’s holiday before then, just going somewhere in England. It’ll do us all good.’

Alex agreed. ‘Yes, it will. Shall you be taking your bucket and spade, Beth?’ He dodged hastily out of the way when Beth threatened to hit him with the book she was reading.

‘Cheek! I remember you did more digging with my bucket and spade than I did the last time we went to the sea.’

‘I did not.’

‘You did.’

‘All right, then, but you were hopeless at digging that moat round your castle.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘You were.’

‘I’m not taking it anyway, I’m much too old now. I shall sit in a deckchair and read when we’re on the beach. But you can borrow it for the whole holiday, if you like.’ She rushed swiftly up the stairs as Alex picked up a wooden spoon and looked as though he was going to threaten her with it.

Caroline relished their tormenting of each other; it had seemed an age since they’d played the fool. Perhaps it would soon be time for her to pick up the threads of general practice. Give Beth a few weeks at school; see how she settled first, though.

The next day Peter received a call from the prison asking him to visit Andy Moorhouse again. ‘Has he specifically asked for me?’

‘Oh, yes. He’s asked for you. This afternoon, we thought. Is that OK, padre?’

‘Yes. It might be about four o’clock; is that convenient?’

‘Absolutely. We’ll have the kettle on, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

He hesitated to tell Caroline that he was going to the prison, but it was his duty to go and go he must.

‘Caroline?’

‘In the sitting room.’

‘This afternoon …’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m going to the prison again.’

‘OK, darling.’ She turned back to playing ‘Beat Your Neighbour’ with Alex and looked perfectly happy with the idea. ‘I’ve a huge bar of Dairy Milk in the cupboard. Do you think he’d like it? Are they allowed?’

‘I don’t know, but the warder has taken a shine to me, so maybe it’ll be in order.’

‘Who doesn’t take a shine to you? Everyone does.’ She turned round to smile at him while Alex made up his mind what he was doing next. Peter bent down and kissed her, whispering, ‘Thank you.’

‘Love you.’

‘And me, you.’

Considering it was still summer the afternoon was cold, with grey skies and a blustery wind which had blown up from nowhere. It did the prison no favours, for it made it even more bleak and unwelcoming as Peter approached it over the Culworth Bridge. The river lashed along, slapping at the concrete sides of the embankment. Somehow it made him shudder, and the clang of the gates and the chill of the air when he got inside only served to make him more depressed. He showed the warder the bar of chocolate.

‘That’s fine, padre. You go in and we’ll bring him round to you. Tea’s almost brewed. He’s not too good these last few days, by the way, very quiet. When we ask him if he needs help he shrugs us off and says … well, anyway, he intimates he doesn’t need any help from the likes of us.’

When Andy was brought in he noticed the teapot and some biscuits on the tray. ‘My word, you must have some influence round here. Teapot and a sugar bowl and
biscuits
would you believe. You can come anytime, sir.’

Peter laughed as he poured the tea. ‘Here you are, Andy. I do believe it looks much more appetizing than the last cup we had together. Here’s the sugar.’

‘And proper cups!’

The two of them took a sip of the tea and Peter said, ‘It is better than the last time. Now, Andy, you asked me to come, so here I am. Fire away.’

Andy tipped another spoonful of sugar into his cup, stirred it round with the plastic spoon and quietly said, ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘That’s fine, all part of my job.’

‘There’s not many would come to see a fella who’d had designs on his daughter.’

‘Well, I have.’

‘I took note what you said last time.’

‘Yes.’

‘Never had no need to worry about my conscience before – well, to be honest, I never had one so there was nothing to worry about. But in here, with so much time to spare for thinking, I’ve suddenly developed one, albeit a small one.’

‘Right. That’s what any completely whole person has.’

‘I expect so. That daughter of yours, I’m so very sorry about frightening her. Given the chance I would have … you know, I must have been mad. She’s going to be a beautiful young woman, you’ll have to watch out for her.’ Andy stared into space for a moment, took a deep breath and said, ‘When I look back on my life it’s been a complete and utter mess from day one. My mother was fifteen when I was born, a right tart. She wanted to have me adopted but her mother persuaded her differently: “can’t part with your own child to strangers, our Netta, wouldn’t be right.” So she kept me. Perhaps if I’d been adopted then I might have had a better chance. At least they would have wanted me.’