Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) (24 page)

Mr Fitch tapped on the table with his fingers, beating a kind of tattoo while he thought. ‘You know, it costs me a small fortune to get someone up from London to see to our computers at Turnham House. Fees for this, expenses for that. You would be doing me a good turn if you did it for me. It wouldn’t be full-time, only a couple of days here and there, but if we could call on you at a moment’s notice, that would be worth a packet to me. What do you think? It might be a start.’

Tears trickled, then ran down her cheeks. She pulled out a tissue from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
Shaking her head she muttered, ‘I don’t think so. My confidence has completely gone. I’ve taken on board everything life’s thrown at me, kept going for the sake of the children, dragging myself up by my shoelaces day after day, month after month, stealing to feed them. How low can one sink? You’re kind, but no thanks.’

‘What did your husband do?’

‘He was an explorer.’

Mr Fitch delved into his memory. ‘He wasn’t! What was his name . . . not . . . Oliver Broakes-Bliss?
The
Oliver Broakes-Bliss?’

When Mrs Bliss nodded, he replied, ‘I so admired him. That trek across the North Pole went so wrong but he did do it, against all the odds. Truly magnificent! Such courage. You must have been so proud of him.’

A gleam of satisfaction came into Mrs Bliss’s eyes, but they soon clouded over. She blew her nose, tucked her tissue away and said, ‘I was, but at what cost?’

‘Surely he got sponsorship?’

‘He did for that expedition, but his next one . . . at the South Pole . . . when he froze to death . . .’

‘Of course, so sad.’

‘Catastrophic. For us all.’

‘But I seem to recall that a clothing firm financed him?’

‘They made a lot of ballyhoo about it, but it no way covered anything like the costs and unknown to me, he took out a second mortgage. When he died, we lost the house. So not only had we no home but we had massive debts.’ Mrs Bliss tried to steady herself by taking in an enormous breath, but it didn’t work and she broke down in tears again.

‘But he was such a brave man, so dedicated, so
imaginative in what he tried to do. I can’t believe his widow was left destitute. The media were round him like flies. He appeared very successful. And his book! Surely that brought in some money?’

‘It didn’t sell very well, and he’d spent the advance before he left on that last expedition.’ Cynically she added, ‘Even his death didn’t boost the sales.’

‘Look, you must take this job I’m offering. Think about it and ring me. OK? I mean it.’

‘I’m sorry for telling you my life story. I’d made up my mind when we moved here that I was leaving Oliver behind and here I am . . .’ She wiped her face again and got to her feet. ‘I’ll see you out.’

Mr Fitch tapped her arm. ‘Think seriously about that job. I need someone like you.’

‘I don’t know who you are. Where do I ring?’

He handed her his business card. ‘Ring Turnham House, I’ll get the message even if I’m not there.’

Mr Fitch left her cottage glad at heart. At least he was making a difference in a place where his own finances were not at the core of his intention. Though it would be good if she’d do the IT work.

He sat in the car outside her house studying the list of repairs he’d made for the other cottages. He stood to make, at the very least, double or even triple the money he’d paid to buy them, and he was getting modest rent for them all in addition, so anything spent on maintenance would be money well used. For once, his land agent might actually have a smile on his face. Fancy Oliver Broakes-Bliss! How he’d admired him. Though he did seem to have been a fool with money, and that was never a good idea.

He was about to set off back to Turnham Malpas when Peter drew up in his car and got out.

‘Good morning, Craddock. How’s things?’

On a weekday, Peter in full cassock with that whacking great silver cross tucked into his broad leather belt always unnerved Mr Fitch. He felt that gear was best kept for Sundays. Feeling at a disadvantage, he got out of his car. But that didn’t do much good either for he was almost a head shorter than Peter and still had to look up at him.

‘Things are fine, thank you. Just been visiting my tenants. They’re a grand lot.’

Hearing such sentiments from Mr Fitch astounded Peter. ‘They are?’

‘Yes. They are. Seen Mrs Bliss’s improvements?’

‘Not yet.’

‘You’ll be surprised. She’s beginning to look better herself, too. Which is all to the good. Sad life she’s had. Needs helping along the way. Nice to see you, Peter.’ He made to get back into his car, then remembered something else. ‘Kate’s working away at the anniversary celebrations for the school, you’ll be glad to hear. She’s getting a lot of support from old pupils and previous headteachers. Two previous heads and their wives are coming. Remember Michael Palmer, nice chap, but lacked guts? He’s coming with his wife and daughters. It’s going to be a good weekend.’

‘Indeed, I expect it is. Kate’s good at that kind of thing.’

It was as he put his car into third gear and was charging down the High Street that the terrible recollection struck Craddock. My God! Mrs Palmer, the wife of the headmaster, was that Suzy Meadows. He wondered if Kate knew the story.

Peter made up his mind on the spot that he wouldn’t go to sleep that night until he’d told Caroline about Suzy. Obviously the entire village must know but they’d had the discretion not to mention it to Caroline, knowing the hurt it would cause. Well, he couldn’t shirk his responsibilities any longer. Tell her he must.

He knocked on Mrs Bliss’s door, opened it and called out, ‘It’s Peter, from the Rectory.’

It was time for bed before Peter had plucked up the courage to tell Caroline. ‘Darling, you know this anniversary for the school?’

‘People talk about nothing else, apart from Kate’s romance with an unknown man and Mr Fitch visiting Mrs Bliss far too often.’

Peter frowned. ‘No one’s mentioned that to me.’

‘That’s what they’re saying. But it’s not true.’

‘I’m glad. There is something that
is
true though.’

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘Kate has invited previous headmasters to the Saturday celebrations.’

For a long moment there was no reaction from Caroline and she continued flicking through the church magazine as if searching for the article he knew she’d contributed. But it didn’t fool Peter. She looked up at him. ‘She hasn’t accepted?’

‘I haven’t asked, but it sounds like it.’

Caroline flung the magazine across the sitting-room floor. It shot under the television and they both sat watching it, as though waiting for it to make the next move. Neither of them had mentioned her name but they both knew to whom she referred.

Teeth clenched, Caroline ground out, ‘I can’t believe it of her.’

‘She might not come.’

‘She will. She wants to see them.’

‘I don’t think she’ll be that thoughtless.’

Caroline looked him straight in the eye. ‘You know that for certain, do you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Having sex with her doesn’t mean you know her mind. Her
mind
, at the time, was the last thing you thought of.’

‘Caroline!’

‘You don’t like the truth about this matter, do you, Peter?’

Peter didn’t answer immediately. He tried to pick his words very carefully, striving not to distress her any more than need be. ‘I’m sorry. Of course I don’t know her mind, but I would imagine that at the last moment she will decide not to come.’

‘You told me she begged to see them that time when she thought we were on holiday and you were saying prayers in the church and she came across you by chance. Remember? It’s only natural. Any mother would.
I
would. But then, I wouldn’t have given my own children away.
Never
. Understand?
Never
.’

Caroline lay back in her chair, her eyes shut, trying to bear the pain without flinching. Peter leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘You’ve always valued the generosity of her spirit, giving us the children. It was what we both wanted, don’t forget that. Both of us. We’ve had twelve years of happiness caring for them. Surely we owe her something for that? One glimpse. That’s all. In twelve years.’

Caroline leapt to her feet. ‘Just whose side are you on?’

‘Yours, of course, it goes without saying.’

‘Her own girls will be leaving home shortly. Maybe she needs to fill the gap? She’s not having them. She’s not.’

‘No way. She can’t have them. In any case, they won’t want her.’

‘We don’t know what their reaction might be.’

‘I do. They’ll be staying here. Believe me.’

Caroline went to the window. She stood staring out at the darkening sky, daring herself to think of Peter and that woman making Alex and Beth. ‘How could you do it to me? Have sex with
her
on a whim?’

‘I can never find the words to apologize. There are no words big enough.’ He went up to stand behind her, his arms around her waist. ‘Shall I write and ask her not to come?’

Caroline asked, ‘Do you have her address, then? You haven’t been in touch all this time, have you?’ He felt shocked by the accusative tone in her voice.

‘No, of course not.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Kate will know it. Obviously.’

Caroline studied his suggestion and dismissed it. ‘No. That would be pathetic. We can’t do that. Hold me tight. Tighter than that.’ They stood there for quite a while, each lost in thought, watching the sky darken to night.

It was Peter who broke the silence. ‘Time for bed.’ He released her. ‘The two of us, together, can cope, you know.’

‘I’m so damned jealous.’

‘Of what?’

‘That in one wild moment, she was able to give you
children and I, who love you so, can never. And,’ she added, so softly he could scarcely hear her, ‘I’m jealous of the passion you shared.’

This statement humbled Peter more than anything she’d ever said before about this situation. All he could think to say was, ‘But
we
share passion, you and I.’

She was standing so close to him that he could feel her slight nod. ‘Yes, we do.’

Caroline made no offer to move so they stood, his hands on her shoulders, staring out at the night sky. ‘Don’t write. She can come. I’m not saying I shall be able to manage to speak to her, because I can’t even say her name out loud, but the twins should see her. After all, I’m so lucky. Not only do I have the children, I have you, so by comparison I am doubly more blessed than she. But it still
hurts
. Very badly indeed. I’m dreading the day. Should we tell the children of the possibility?’

Peter shook his head. ‘Nearer the time, maybe.’

‘Alex will be angry. Beth will be curious about her.’

‘Perhaps. We just don’t know.’ He bent his head and kissed the nape of her neck. ‘Love you.’

‘She won’t want them, of course she won’t, I’m being ridiculous.’

‘She can’t anyway. They’re ours by law.’

‘You’re right, I’m not being ridiculous, just normal.’ She caressed his hand where it lay on her shoulder.

‘Absolutely.’ Peter went to bed, leaving Caroline to follow when she was ready.

Was there never to be an end to this problem? She rather thought not. The children didn’t appear to be any different since they’d known about their natural mother, seen her photograph, talked about her, but that was seeing
an image. What might happen when they saw the real thing? In flesh and blood, moving, speaking, smiling, and heard her, watched her, touched her? Caroline shuddered. If it had never happened, if they’d never come here, if he’d never seen her, their lives would be so . . . barren now. And that was the crux of the matter. She was barren. Caroline clutched at her stomach and could have torn the offending organ out with her bare hands she was so angry; this place where babies should grow.

Taking in a deep breath and determining not to rail against something that couldn’t be changed, she turned her thoughts to Alex and Beth. For their sakes she had to be brave about this situation, to appear in control of herself and to sound pleased they were having this opportunity to meet their mother, even if she was writhing with anguish inside.

She stayed by the window, looking out at the village, loving every cottage, every tree, every blade of grass and wondering when they might have to leave. They couldn’t stay here for ever, that wasn’t the course Peter’s calling would follow. One day they’d have to go, and she might be able to put all this behind her. If he did get a call to go elsewhere, she would welcome it. He’d spoken briefly about leading a church project in Africa. She’d go with him willingly if he got the chance, but for the moment she still had her problems in Turnham Malpas to face. And Peter to face too.

Caroline sighed, turned from the window, checked Peter had closed windows, locked doors, and went up to look at the children before she went into the bathroom. Alex was laid on his back, arms outflung, fast asleep. She bent to kiss him and thought for the millionth time how
like Peter he was. In Beth’s room she stumbled over some books flung on the floor by her just before she fell asleep. Beth was curled foetus-like, her fair hair tousled, eyelids fluttering as though she dreamed. So like Suzy.