Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil (The Grantchester Mysteries) (30 page)

‘Although it is a bit embarrassing, I must confess,’ Helena continued. ‘I’m playing the Fairy.’

‘I don’t suppose anyone would think that was type-casting.’

‘You’re too kind, Canon Chambers. At least it’s only three scenes.’

‘Perhaps it will bring out your feminine side?’

‘For the first and last time, I can tell you. It’s only because the director happens to be my boyfriend. He thinks it’s going to soften me up, playing the Fairy, but believe me; it’s going to do the exact opposite. I’m going to come out of this even tougher.’

‘Has the man any idea of what lies in store for him?’

Helena smiled. ‘He hasn’t a clue.’

‘Then he has my pity.’

‘I tell you one thing: he deserves everything that’s coming.’

‘You always did have a strong sense of justice.’

‘It’s about the only thing you and I have in common, Canon Chambers. I do hope you will feel you can inform me as to how your enquiries progress.’

‘How do you know I am investigating anything at all?’

‘Because I know you, Sidney Chambers,’ Helena added almost flirtatiously. ‘I can read you like a book.’

‘Then I hope it’s a good one.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘It’s a
classic
.’

Sidney wondered if he had deliberately forgotten about the planned visit to
Dick Whittington and his Cat
because he hated pantomimes. He remembered that he had promised his wife the trip to take her mind off what she had started to call ‘God’s little joke’: the uncomfortable, sleepless ninth month of pregnancy. Hildegard had said that if she laughed enough at all the antics then perhaps it might bring on the baby.

‘I don’t think it’ll be that funny,’ Sidney warned. ‘But I’m sure we’ll be taking the little one soon enough.’

‘You will have to explain what happens in the story,’ his wife said. ‘You know how I can’t concentrate on anything at the moment. My brain is like strudel.’

‘It’s quite simple, although these Christmas shows never make much sense anyway. It’s more about the interruptions than the plot,’ Sidney began. ‘They’re essentially fairy stories: morality tales for the people
.
.
.’

‘Like
Hansel and Gretel
.’

‘Exactly. They’re often about money too, in which the poor are ultimately recompensed for their virtue.’

‘Unlike real life.’

‘Reward for virtue, Hildegard, is at the heart of the Christian message. We cannot scorn popular entertainment. People love these shows. They are feasts of foolery.’

Sidney knew that he should just get on with it and tell his wife about Abigail’s baby before she read about it in the local paper, or anyone else mentioned it to her, rather than wittering on about a bloody pantomime that he didn’t even want to go to but Hildegard was in a relatively good mood and he didn’t want to spoil it.

‘What is the story of this play?’ she asked again.

Sidney was relieved to continue; although he knew that he was not off the hook by any means and merely prolonging the ultimate disclosure. ‘In this case, Dick Whittington, who is played by an actress
.
.
.’

‘Dick is a man’s name. Why does a girl play a boy?’

‘Because the Dame is always a man.’

‘So women are men, and men are women?’

‘That is, allegedly, what makes it so very amusing. The roles are reversed. It’s like Shakespeare.’

‘The confused English relationship to sex
.
.
.’

‘You have to know all the time that it is a man being a woman otherwise it isn’t funny
.
.
.’

‘Already this is complicated.’

‘They say it’s all in the eyes and the knees.’ Sidney stood up from the kitchen table in a desperate attempt at humour. He opened his eyes wide and put his legs apart, demonstrating the role of the clown. ‘The eyes look everywhere and the knees knock together. Like this.’

He began a frantic clown impersonation. He could hardly postpone his news any longer but he wanted his wife to be cheerful. Besides, he liked her laugh.

Hildegard clapped her hands. ‘You are doing your best, my darling, but it doesn’t sound so amusing.’

‘It’s very English,’ Sidney explained. ‘Although they have it in Scotland too. I suppose it’s something of an acquired taste.’

‘Like cricket.’

‘Or bread and butter pudding. A boy, played by a girl, falls in love with a real girl and is either helped, distracted or obstructed by a man playing a woman, the Dame. Then there are the talking animals. Traditionally it’s a horse with one man at the front and another at the back, but in
Jack and the Beanstalk
it’s a cow, and in
Dick Whittington
it’s a cat.’

‘And it is for children?’

‘Yes. But there are adult jokes and a singalong.’

‘The audience have to join in?’

‘They do, Hildegard. That’s the bit I don’t like.’

‘You are used to being in charge. You want to be the star of the show, not its victim.’

‘I’ll let that pass. But I suppose it’s all part of my duty to support such a venture. Many of our parishioners are in it and a lot of the schoolchildren are the rats.’

‘I look forward to it.’

‘Really?’

‘I do, Sidney. It is you who are being anxious.’

‘I’m not,’ her husband replied grumpily. He really would have to get on with it and tell her about Abigail and her baby.

‘It’s Christmas,
meine Liebe
. We should be happy. What is wrong with you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You do. Tell me.’

Sidney looked at his wife. ‘Well, Hildegard, there is something
.
.
.’

And so, at last, he broke the news of the stolen child.

The Arts was packed with an expectant crowd who cheered as the lights came down, the music began and Dick Whittington introduced his cat Tommy and explained how he was going to London to seek his fortune. The stage cloth lifted to reveal a busy scene that was soon entered by an enormous pantomime dame weighed down with carrier bags.

‘I’ve just been Christmas shopping in Market Square. It’s terrible out there. It was so crowded. Men were rubbing up against me and touching me in all the places they shouldn’t. I’m going back again tomorrow.
Anyway
, boys and girls, mums and dads, ARE YOU HAVING A NICE TIME? We’ll have a bit of a sing in a minute. I’ve asked the orchestra to check their parts. They’re a lovely lot of men down there. I like the one with the horn.
Anyway
, I’m here to see Dick – it’s been a long time – and I do love playing with his Tommy. Are you looking forward to Christmas? We’re having an extra large turkey this year so everyone gets a good bit of leg and a nice bit of breast. I just need to make sure I get plenty of stuffing.’

The audience laughed and the Dame feigned shocked surprise. ‘What? Oh stop it. You are
awful
. At least I’ve done my shopping. The only thing is that I don’t think I need all these sweets. I’m sweet enough already. Would you like some, boys and girls?’

The children in the audience screamed out that they did.

Blimey, Sidney thought, once our own child is born there’s going to be years of this.

As the Dame opened her shopping bags and started to throw sweets to the audience, Hildegard asked if Sidney was enjoying himself.

‘You have not been laughing,’ she observed.

‘No, I have been too worried.’

‘About what?’

‘The thing that is going to happen next. Right now, in fact. Saints preserve us!’

Sidney was in an aisle seat near the front of the stalls and the Dame was already advancing towards him. He was going to be singled out for audience participation; he could tell.

The actor waggled his bottom, plumped up his false breasts and sat on the edge of Sidney’s seat. The follow-spot was already on them.

‘Hello, sweetheart, what do you do for a living?’

‘I’m a vicar.’

‘You’re not wearing any knickers? That’s not a very nice thing to say. A man in your position? What’s your name?’

‘Sidney.’

‘If you were called “Kidney”, I could put you in one of my puddings. I’ve got a very hot oven.’

There was no escape. Even Sidney’s friend Fergus Maclean, the usually morose undertaker, was laughing.

‘Will you marry me, Sidney?’ the Dame continued. ‘I’ve already had three husbands. The first one died of mushroom poisoning, the second one died of mushroom poisoning; the third one jumped in the River Cam. He wouldn’t eat the mushrooms!
Anyway
.
.
.’

She moved on to taunt a man with no hair. It was always the men she picked on, and one of them complained that he hadn’t come to be insulted.

‘Where do you usually go then, darling?’

As the show rolled on to a rousing chorus of ‘Oh! What a Wopper’, Hildegard enjoyed Sidney’s discomfort. ‘At least she didn’t make any jokes about the holy roast or shepherds washing their socks by night.’

‘Well it’ll soon be over for another year. Then I can get on with the next thing.’

‘There’s always a next thing, Sidney. Perhaps we should enjoy the present without concerning ourselves over the future.’ Hildegard touched her stomach. ‘We have more important things to worry about.’

After Dick had been blamed for stealing all the Alderman’s money and was leaving London for good, Fairy Bowbells, in the guise of Helena Randall, called him back.

‘I didn’t know she was in it,’ said Hildegard. ‘Is that why we’ve come?’

‘Of course not.’

‘She sings very nicely. A thin voice but at least it is in tune.’

By the interval, Sidney had become quite agitated about the time he was spending in the theatre, away from news of the case of the stolen baby. Hildegard put his restlessness down to hurt pride after his humiliation at the hands of the Dame and told him that she needed to get out fast so that she could join the queue for the Ladies’ while Sidney bought the ice creams. As he did so, he was interrupted by Inspector Keating.

‘I didn’t know you were at the show,’ he said.

‘I’m not. I’ve come to see you, Sidney.’

‘Then you’ve timed it well.’

Geordie was in no mood for small talk. ‘A witness has reported someone behaving suspiciously.’

‘Who?’

‘A woman in a headscarf wearing a long camel coat and high heels. Have you been to see Miss Redmond?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Well, get on with it, man. She’s not keen on talking to the police and you can get things out of her that I can’t.’

‘I’m not sure that’s true.’

‘You have your ways, Sidney. I want to know how long she thinks she was asleep for at the time her baby was taken; and if she has friends who want children and can’t have them or who have had miscarriages recently. This inquiry needs your gentle touch. I’m relying on you.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Hildegard emerged from the Ladies’ and was surprised to bump into the detective. ‘Surely you’re not off duty?’ she teased.

‘No, Hildegard; even here, I am vigilant. I was just passing and saw Sidney in the foyer. There’s nothing to worry about. Good evening to you both.’

The couple returned to the auditorium. The actors were on board the
Saucy Sally
on its way to Morocco. The Dame was mopping the decks before the drill routine and complained that she was used to rubbing down with something bigger. ‘Is she impersonating Mrs Maguire?’ Hildegard asked.

‘The Dame is her brother-in-law.’

‘She has a sister? You mean there are two of them?’

‘I am afraid so.’

At last Dick Whittington reached the shores of Morocco to be met with a chorus of dancing gorillas. Dick went into the palace of the Sultan where the Dame had already joined the ladies of the harem.

‘Sidney?’ Hildegard asked.

‘What is it?’

‘You seem distracted. What did Inspector Keating want?’

‘Nothing much.’

‘He wasn’t “just passing”, was he?’

‘No.’

‘So how involved are you in the case of the stolen baby?’

Sidney pretended to be concentrating on the pantomime. ‘I’m just helping out. It won’t take up much of my time.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It will be well. All manner of thing shall be well, my darling.’

‘I am not so sure. You are up to something.’

‘Not at all. I am doing my duty
.
.
.’

‘Which takes you away from me.’