The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (19 page)
Read The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
The bar of The Royal Oak hummed with the news of Muriel’s return from Rome.
‘Have you seen ’er, Betty?’ Jimmy Glover enquired.
‘Not likely to, after what he said about our Sharon last time he was in here. Flipping cheek.’
‘Could be a good customer of yours if she apologised.’
‘That’s as maybe.’
‘Well, your Sharon is rude. And them clothes she wears leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘Listen who’s talking.’
‘I’ll have you know I’ve turned over a new leaf, haven’t you noticed?’
Willie, seated at a table close to the bar shouted, ‘Well yes, I’ve noticed. I’ve stopped wearing a peg on me nose when I come in ’ere.’
Jimmy went over to sit with Willie. He took a draught of his best bitter and leaned confidentially towards him. ‘Reckon he’ll make an honest woman of her then, now they’re back?’
‘I’ll let you know if they put up the banns.’
‘By gum, I bet Muriel’s had a surprise. Spinster good and
proper all these years, and then this. She must be sixty-three or four, I reckon.’
‘Must be – on the other hand, it could be purely platonic. “Just good friends” like all them film stars say.’
‘That’s likely, I don’t think. Our Ralph looks to me like a man who would enjoy a bit of that there ’ere.’
‘And what do you know about it in your vast experience?’
‘Well, Willie, I have been married, which is more than can be said of you.’
‘True, true, but even so I might have had more experience than you have. They say there’s some married men who never find out what it’s like. Their wives put their foot down on the honeymoon and
finito
– they never even get started. D’yer remember old Fred Armitage? He once told me his wife had ne—’
Their confidential exchange was curtailed by the sound of Betty shouting in the back.
‘You’re
not
going to an acid-house party! I don’t care where it is, you’re
not going
! For a start I need you in the bar tonight, we’re short-handed, and for another you’re not staying out all night.’
‘Bit rich, you starting to take notice of me after all these years. Since when have you ever bothered about me and Scott? It’s been “the bar, the bar” all my life. I’m off and that’s that.’
‘You’re not. I shall tell your dad.’
‘Some good that’ll do. He’s been under your thumb for years. He’s forgotten he’s got a mind of his own.’
‘That’s enough, our Sharon. Do as I say.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do? I’m nineteen and can do as I like.’
‘Not under my roof you can’t.’
‘Under your roof, is it? Well, in that case I’ll find somewhere else to live.’
‘Right, you do that – and good riddance to yer!’
‘And good riddance to you too.’ The sound of furniture falling and the distinct noise of flesh on flesh resounded through the bar.
‘Mac, hadn’t you better go and see what’s happening?’ one of the women shouted.
But Mac carried on stolidly washing up glasses. ‘They’ll sort it out without me,’ he grunted.
Obvious sounds of a fight were now filtering through.
‘Mac, get round there and do something!’
The door from the house into the bar burst open and Sharon and Betty appeared, wrestling with each other. Glasses and bottles on the bar and the shelves behind began cascading onto the floor. Willie and Jimmy leapt up and went to help Mac separate them. Eventually mother and daughter were forced apart. Betty was breathing heavily, her carefully structured hair awry and her gold chains in complete disarray around her throat. Sharon was laughing.
‘What a sight you look – mutton dressed as lamb. You won’t get away with this. I’ll have my own back, just you wait and see. You’re welcome to ’er, Dad.’
Sharon trotted back into the house, leaving the inmates of the bar scandalised. The hubbub continued for some time. Betty went to reconstruct her hair and Mac cleared up the mess. He was philosophical. ‘They’ve had rows like this before. It’ll all blow over.’
Michael Palmer, absorbed in listening to
Aida
on a new CD he’d bought at the weekend, jumped when he heard the hammering on his front door.
‘Drat it, I wonder who that is at this time of night.’
‘Oh, Mr Palmer, please can you help me? I’ve nowhere to go and Mum’s turned me out. Please help me.’ Tears began to fall and she sniffed helplessly.
‘Whatever are you doing with a bruise like that on your face?’
‘Mum did it and I’m too frightened to go back home. I’ve packed my case and climbed out of the window. I’ve always tried to do what she wanted but I can’t please her. Could I stay the night while I decide what to do? Please let me in. She’ll never think to look for me here.’ The tears trickled down her bruised cheek and she fumbled unsuccessfully in her pocket for a handkerchief.
‘Here, come in. I’ll find you a tissue.’ Michael’s immediate reaction, that he mustn’t have anything to do with this girl, was overridden by his schoolmasterly instincts to care and protect children in distress. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea and talk things over. Perhaps if I come back home with you we could sort it out with your mum and dad. It’s not right for you to have nowhere to go.’
He found a box of tissues and went in the kitchen to put the kettle on. Sharon followed him in. ‘I’m scared to be on my own. Can I sit in here while you make the tea? Oh, Mr Palmer, all my life my mum’s been hitting me. Now I’m old enough to leave but that means our Scott will be left on his own. She’s terrible to live with, you know. I have thought about going to the Social about ’er but who’d believe me?’
‘Well, of course they would, Sharon. You’ve got the evidence now.’
‘That’s very commendable. Let’s go and sit down by the fire and see what we can sort out.’
‘You are kind to me, Mr Palmer. I always liked you when I was in school. I know I gave you a lot of trouble but with all the rows at home it was hard to behave right.’ The tears began falling again.
‘Now, now, Sharon. Drink your tea up and you’ll feel better. I’ve only got digestive biscuits, will they do?’
‘I love digestive biscuits, Mr Palmer. They’re so homely and that’s something I’ve never had, a real home.’
Michael pondered the predicament in which he found himself. He’d no idea that the girl had experienced such a difficult childhood. She’d kept it to herself all these years. No wonder she’d been such a trial! He had really misjudged her … Sharon adopted a brave smile. She touched the bruise on her face and grimaced.
‘I’ll get some ice for that, Sharon. At least we might keep the swelling down.’ They sat chatting for a while and as it grew later and later, Michael realised he had no alternative but to put her up for the night. He didn’t fancy tackling Betty McDonald until the clear light of morning. No one would know, anyway.
‘See here, Sharon, just for tonight you can sleep in the spare bedroom. It’s downstairs next to the bathroom. So you go and use the bathroom and I’ll put clean sheets on the bed. There are fresh towels in the airing cupboard in the bathroom.’
He kept well out of the way while she got ready for bed; he didn’t want her to think he had any designs on her – which he hadn’t, heaven forbid. He called, ‘Good night,
Sharon,’ through her closed door as he went up to his bedroom. He’d never got rid of the double bed he and Stella had used, and as he got into it he suddenly felt quite lonely. Being a widower had its compensations, but sometimes it would be nice to have someone sharing the bed, even if it was only for keeping warm and conversation. Despite the events of the evening he fell asleep almost directly, firmly convinced that in the morning he would go across to the McDonalds’ with Sharon and lay down the law.
During the night, he turned over and woke with a start. Close beside him was a female form. Convinced he was dreaming, he put out a hand to assure himself he was alone, but it came in contact with another hand which guided his to a warm ample breast. He leapt out of bed. There was a soft chuckle and Sharon’s voice.
‘Oh, come on, Michael, I’m used to this kind of thing. A handsome widower like yourself must be in need of some hanky panky. Come on, get back in. I’ll give you a good time. Don’t be shy.’
‘Sharon, get out immediately – this minute! Go downstairs to your own bed.’
‘It’s cold and lonely down there, and I need someone to hold my hand. Come on, no one will know. It’ll be our secret. I bet I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamt about. Let’s face it, that Stella of yours wouldn’t have given you much joy, so take your chance now while you can.’
‘Do as I say. Get out of my bed this instant!’
‘Don’t waste your breath coming the schoolmaster with me. You want me, so for once in your life let go and enjoy yourself. I don’t kiss and tell and I’m panting for you. Come on.’
‘Absolutely not. Get out.’
‘Well, in that case you can be cold all night because I’ve
got cosy. Good night. If you feel in need of a cuddle, climb in any time.’
Defeated and unable to get her out without dragging her out – which would give her the chance she wanted – Michael went downstairs. He found an eiderdown and wrapped himself up on the sofa. What a blithering idiot he’d been. He should never have let her in in the first place. She’d totally deceived him. Her acting abilities merited an audition with the RSC. He woke a couple of hours later needing to go to the bathroom, and saw that the spare bedroom door was open and Sharon’s case had gone. Oh God, had she moved into his bedroom – surely not? But she hadn’t, she’d disappeared. Thank heavens for that. At least no one would know what a fool he’d been. And he had been right all along – she
was
sly.
All that boasting about knowing about sex, a girl her age! On the other hand, she’d been in Culworth very late at night and seen Stella there; she’d already threatened him with that. From the back of his mind pieces of a puzzle began coming together. Pieces were missing and he could be wrong, yes of course he
must
be wrong, unless it was that Toria Clark had found someone writing the pos … That was it! Sharon had been writing the poster to leave in the school, and had been interrupted by Toria Clark. But Sharon wouldn’t kill someone, would she? How could she? She was a village girl who’d gone to school there, grown up there … No. No. No! But it fitted. Sharon was the only one who knew about Stella being lesbian. It was Sharon who’d driven Stella to suicide with her threats of exposure. The poster referred to Stella, not to Toria Clark. That was the mistake they’d all made. They’d all thought the poster meant Toria. He’d have to tell the police what he thought, and a right fool they’d all take him for. He wouldn’t be able
to hold his head up any more; he’d have to resign. Would he need to tell the police that Sharon had stayed there all night? He could say he’d been thinking things over and had decided to tell them what he knew.
Betty and Mac went to the police the following day.
‘Our Sharon’s missing.’
‘How old is she now, Betty?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Well, she can do as she likes, you know. It’s no crime at nineteen not to come home one night.’
‘Look, Sergeant, me and our Sharon have had our differences but she’d no money with her when she went – we’ve found her purse in her bedroom. She was only doing it to frighten me. She didn’t intend going any distance at all. You’ve got to do something for us, Sergeant, no messing.’
‘I’ll make some enquiries in the village and see what I come up with. But if she’s decided to leave I can’t bring her back.’
‘She’s always led such a sheltered life. I won’t let her go to these all-night parties or anything like that. We’ve always been so careful with her, haven’t we, Mac?’
‘Yes. Well, fairly careful.’
The sergeant questioned everyone in the village. The row in the bar came to light and also another factor which caused the sergeant’s pen to hesitate for a moment as he took notes.
‘You saw her going inside?’
‘Oh yes, Sergeant. He opened the door and he closed it behind her. I saw him with my own eyes.’
‘This is very serious, you know. Mr Palmer is a well-respected gentleman in this village, so you’ll have to be very careful about this. Are you absolutely certain it was Sharon McDonald?’
‘That’s enough, Pat. Nothing’s been proved about anything. Keep mum about this; you might be needed to give evidence and if I hear you’ve been spreading this story around I might remember about that shoplifting your Dean’s been getting up to in Culworth. Remember that.’
Muriel went into school the following day at her usual time. The atmosphere was tense. Suzy came out of the playgroup room and told her that Mr Palmer was helping police with their enquiries so Mrs Hardaker the new teacher would be taking the children for singing and she and Liz Neal were going to keep an eye on the children in the playground for her.
‘Helping the police with their enquiries? Whatever do you mean?’
‘I’m not quite sure, but the poor man has not been himself for a day or two and now he’s at the police station in Culworth. Also, Sharon McDonald’s gone missing.’
‘Oh dear, whatever next is going to happen in this village? When I was a girl nothing happened, apart from Jimmy Glover’s father being caught poaching and someone once setting fire to a farmer’s hayrick when they were up to naughty things with a girl. Well, I never.’
She told Ralph about what had happened when he collected her to go into Culworth for some shopping for his house, and asked him what he thought.