The Judas Kiss (6 page)

"That is right," Adelaide nodded. "Colonel Vatchell told me something about it, but Major Bennion says he has given up such things."

"Just as well," her husband agreed. "He must be a very interesting man, but murders don't happen here."

"We will hope not," Jasper said, "though it would be rather a thrill to have a Sherlock Holmes as our next-door neighbour. What is his wife like?"

"Charming in every way," Adelaide replied. "You might get a commission to paint her. She would make a lovely picture. So would their baby."

"I must see the baby," Pearl said.

"It sounds all right," Emerald commented, "but we do not want snoopers here."

"He is no snooper," Adelaide declared. "Wait till you meet him."

Sunbay boasted two tennis courts, and whatever his failings in other respects, Teague kept them in good order. George still liked an occasional set and as all the family were playing, that meant five in the home team. Adelaide cried off as she would have to see to the teas. Pearl's admirers, Peter Skelton and Arthur Dixon arrived as usual, as did Emerald's collaborator, Victor Gore-Black. To help balance the sexes Pamela and Mary Aitken, two girls from the Vicarage, were invited.

All the girls and most of the men wore the modern one-piece linen costumes with bare legs, the hairy limbs of Gore-Black being specially notable. Ruth and Roger were exceptions as she had a skirt and he white trousers with a silk shirt. Naturally the regular players knew one another's form and Gore-Black ranked as their Number One.

To make a start, Ruth and Roger were invited to play Emerald and Gore-Black on one court, while Pearl and Peter took on one of the Vicarage girls and Arthur Dixon on the other. Victor Gore-Black liked to live up to his name and monopolised as much of the game as he could. He directed all his attack on Ruth who had played very little since her baby was born. Although golf was Roger's game, he played squash and badminton to keep himself active. It took him a little time to find his form but he was satisfied that he had the measure of Victor and was content at losing 6, 4.

"You played jolly well, my dear," he said to Ruth. "We will take them on again presently and beat them, if you like."

"It might do them good, but I want to talk to Adelaide." The sets were made up again and again, with various changes of partner and with intervals for tea. It would be tedious to detail them. Victor was very pleased at beating Roger, whose bygone glories had been told him. To rub it in he suggested a men's four, he and Dixon taking on Roger and Garnet. Roger, whose touch had been getting more sure readily agreed.

The curate, though not brilliant, was quite a useful partner, perhaps a shade better than the good-looking Dixon. Gore-Black tried to excel himself. Roger was faster and more accurate and that was bound to tell.

When he and Garnet led by 3, 1 there was an incident that amused the onlookers. Roger was serving and had scored two aces. At the third Victor called "Fault!" Garnet protested, "I saw the chalk fly."

"Never mind," Roger said, "call it a fault." There was no umpire.

For his second service he sent over a ball popular years ago but now little used. A sort of backhand googlie with a lot of spin. It was necessarily slow. Victor ran forward to smash it back but it broke at least a yard in the opposite direction to that expected and he missed it completely. Everyone laughed. Roger and Garnet eventually won by 6, 2.

"That was an extraordinary ball," Garnet said afterwards. "How did you do it?"

"It came from America," Roger smiled. "It was devastating at first but our players soon got the hang of it and killed it."

He asked Ruth if she would like their return but she declined. She had played two other sets and said he had done mischief enough for one afternoon. It had really been a pleasant affair. She and Roger chatted with all their neighbours. Adelaide was delighted with their success and she and George asked them to come in for a game when ever they wished.

"I believe you play golf?" Roger said.

"Of a sort," George replied.

"So do I. Much nicer to have a ball that sits up and waits instead of running away from you."

"Especially when it runs the wrong way," George chuckled.

The party broke up and Ruth and Roger returned to their own abode. When they were well out of earshot Ruth said, "I like them all, especially Adelaide and Pearl. I told you it was a queer household and so it is."

"I saw Adelaide telling you her life-story," Roger answered. "What is so queer about it?"

"Not her life-story but that of everyone else. George must be rather a remarkable man. He retired when he was about thirty with a fortune of over a hundred thousand pounds."

"How did he make it?"

"He inherited from his father a number of shops in the Midlands called Michelmore's Markets. Something in the Woolworth line. He opened more and then one of the big combines bought him out."

"A shrewd fellow."

"Yes, indeed," Ruth said, "and his wife had ideas too. As each child was born she made him buy an insurance policy so that it received five thousand pounds when it became twenty-one. Would that cost a lot?"

"It would depend on the terms of the policy. If he took the chance and the money was lost if the child did not reach twenty-one, it would be much cheaper than if there was a surrender value at death."

"Adelaide says he took the chance and in due course they each got their money. He invested it for them in his old firm, and they each have about three hundred a year free of tax. Not a great deal in these days. They could use the capital if they wished, but she doesn't think they did so. The idea was that they should be independent but not too well off to work. And they all have their own little flat, rent free, part of the house."

"Certainly a novel idea. Does it answer?"

Ruth hesitated. "Adelaide is not quite sure. She says Emerald and the Gore-Black man profess to believe in free-love. They are writing a book together and may practise what they preach."

"Is Adelaide doing anything about it?"

"She is afraid to. She also says one of the two men who appear devoted to Pearl already has a wife."

"Independence run riot. What about the sons?"

"Garnet, the curate, is a model of pious endeavour. She is not so sure about Jasper, the artist. What queer names they all have. Chosen, she says, by their mother."

"As the mother of the Gracchi proclaimed, these are my jewels."

"Is Jasper a jewel?" Ruth asked. "It used to be the name of the villain of the piece."

"Rather difficult, I imagine, to get male names from gems. Plenty of female ones; Ruby, Coral, Beryl and so on. Jasper is a semi-precious stone, very Biblical, as you, a Dean's daughter, should know."

"Adelaide hopes we will have a good influence on them."

"A bit late in the day, if what she says is true," Roger remarked.

Contact between the occupants of Sunbay and their new neighbours grew apace. There was frequent tennis and George Michelmore had two rounds of golf with Roger Bennion. Pleasant enough, but there was little inclination to repeat them as George was no match for Roger and preferred to reserve his energies for bowls, a game Roger had not so far attempted. Few days passed without Adelaide looking in to see Ruth, and Pearl made great friends with little Penny. Emerald remained aloof. Jasper, having been promised that he should try his hand on Ruth and her infant, was well occupied in finishing the work he had already begun.

The curious thing was the friendship between Garnet and Roger. Friendship may not be the right word for it. When he had a free evening the curate would call and ask for Roger, but the latter found him rather tongue-tied and could not quite see why he came. He tried various themes of conversation without much success.

"Is Garnet coming to-night?" Ruth asked him.

"I hope not," Roger said. "He doesn't smoke, he doesn't drink, he doesn't play cards and he cannot talk!"

"Perhaps he has something on his mind."

"Then I wish he would get it out of his system. Why bring it to me?"

"He may be lonely."

"Can it help him to sit and brood? I would sooner spend the time with you."

"I have plenty to do," Ruth said. "Does he play chess?"

"More likely Tiddleywinks! I could ask him. But what about you?"

"Nannie and I enjoy the wireless."

The next time he came Roger made the suggestion and the curate said he would like a game. The pieces were set out. Roger had never really had much time for chess, there were other things he preferred, but in less than a quarter of an hour he had mated his opponent.

The pieces were replaced in silence and another game started. But it was soon evident that Garnet, although he knew the moves, was not really giving proper attention to it. Roger was naturally patient, but this was sheer waste of time. He purposely made an atrocious move that should have led to the capture of his queen. Garn took a long time to play and then missed his opportunity.

"Something worrying you?" Roger enquired.

"Why, why do you ask?" Garnet replied.

"You could have taken my queen and in the last game you missed some chances."

"I, I am not very good."

"Not as bad as that, I think."

Garnet was silent for some moments. Then he said, "Yes. I am worried. I have wanted to tell you, but, but I don't know how to begin."

"It is generally the start that is difficult," Roger said kindly. "I will help you if I can, but am I the right person to come to?"

"I, I think so. There is no one else."

"Well?"

"A young woman, a girl, wants to marry me." Roger looked at him for a moment or two. He was undoubtedly good-looking, though there was an expression in his eyes that called for sympathy.

"Most men have had that experience," Roger said with a slight smile. "Perhaps clergymen are more subject to it than others; I don't know. I take it you do not wish to marry her. Have you ever given her reason to think otherwise?"

"No! Before heaven, never!" Garnet spoke with sudden vehemence. "I believe in a celibate clergy."

A parson had to be polite to the members of his congregation and a determined woman is difficult to escape. Roger knew that. Perhaps unmarried curates are less sought after than they used to be but no doubt there are still those who feel their fascination, a tribute possibly to their virtue.

"Need you meet her?"

"I do my best not to," Garnet said.

"Then surely the matter will die a natural death, unless there are special circumstances in the case."

"There are."

The young man got up from the table. Perspiration stood on his brow and the look of misery was intensified.

"There are special circumstances," he muttered, walking restlessly across the room.

"You are sure you wish to tell them to me?" Roger said. "You would not prefer to ask the advice of your father or perhaps your vicar?"

"They would not understand. You are a man of the world. You have had much experience."

"In some matters I have. Whether they will help you I cannot say."

"I need someone to confide in. Someone with an open mind."

"A lawyer perhaps?"

Garnet shuddered. "A lawyer would see it all wrong. He might not believe me."

"Well, start at the beginning. I will do what I can."

Perhaps a little reassured at having broken the ice, Garnet returned to his seat. He brushed the chessmen on to the table and closed the board.

"When I went to help Mr. Fortescue at Torbury I found the work at the church neglected."

"So I have heard."

"Mr. Fortescue is old but I am young. I saw a field white unto harvest and with such energy as I possess I threw my self into the work. One of the things that shocked me was the neglect of the service of Holy Communion. It was only held once a month and then only two or three elderly people attended it."

He paused. For a moment the misery in his eyes gave place to the light of the zealot.

"I talked to the people about it and slowly our number grew. Then I found there had been no Confirmation classes for two or three years; no attempt to reach the young people. I was horrified. I asked the Vicar and he said he had no objection to my holding such classes if I could get anyone to attend them.

"He evidently thought my effort was doomed to failure, but I spoke to the young people and I called to see their parents. Eventually a dozen promised to come."

"Of what ages?" Roger asked.

"Fifteen to eighteen. There was no suitable place in Torbury for them to meet and I decided to hold the classes here in my own room. At first I thought of having them all together, but I decided against it. You know how it is with a mixed class. You try to make them think of sacred things; then they go off, perhaps in pairs, and the temptation for fun and flirting may be too strong for them."

Again he paused. Roger realised he was getting to the more difficult part of his story.

"I arranged for the lads to come one evening and the girls another. I think some at least of them meant to become real members of the Church of Christ. Then one evening, when I had been talking to the girls, one of them said there was something she wished to ask me in private. So I let the others go. I took them to the door and said good-night to them, but suggested they might wait for their friend. I would not keep her long."