Read The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (20 page)
‘I don’t know, but I can only think it’s all connected with his wife’s death, and Toria Clark’s murder and Sharon’s disappearance. Where shall we go for lunch?’
‘I do believe you’re beginning to enjoy all this tripping about we do.’
‘I am. It’s opened up a whole new side of my nature.’
‘I haven’t decided yet. Where do you fancy?’
‘I don’t mind. Somewhere quiet where we won’t meet anyone and we can talk.’
‘So be it.’
Ralph chose the restaurant by the River Cul where they’d first had lunch together. They’d reached the coffee and liqueur stage when Ralph cleared his throat and began to speak. Muriel, enjoying her After Eight mint – she never could resist them – brought her head up with a jerk when she realised what Ralph was saying.
‘I know we can’t expect to have a mad passionate affair, but why should the two of us live, one in one house and one in another, when we could share so much?’
‘Why can’t we have a mad passionate affair?’
‘Moo, my dear!’
‘Why should we miss out on it because we’re older? We’d appreciate it a lot more than when we were younger, wouldn’t we? We’d be so grateful to have the opportunity. In fact, you can kiss me now in front of everybody.’
‘It hardly seems the place to be kissing.’
‘I’m feeling daring. All my life I’ve held back, been too quiet, not said what I felt, let everyone else have all the fun and it’s time I came out of my shell. It’s like you said, I’ve been fending people off and not letting them get near. All
these old fuddy duddies will be jealous of me. You’re such a handsome man, Ralph. I’d be proud for you to kiss me.’
They neither of them noticed the scandalised looks they got from the other diners. Ralph’s hands were trembling as he signed the credit card voucher and Muriel, hiding in the Ladies from this new person she had become, could hardly control her hand long enough to renew her lipstick. Ralph took her to a department store and insisted on buying her some new perfume. She dillied and dallied choosing first one and then another till she couldn’t distinguish which perfume she liked the best. Finally Ralph chose on her behalf – Obsession, the largest bottle he could find. He then marched her purposefully towards a jeweller’s.
‘I’m buying you a necklace. Don’t argue, I am.’
They emerged after an hour with Muriel carrying a box in which was laid a beautiful pendant of garnets and seed pearls on a long gold chain. They went back to Turnham Malpas without the furniture they had gone for.
Ralph made afternoon tea for them both, and they sat together on his sofa holding hands. ‘Put your necklace on, Moo.’
‘It’s much too good for everyday.’
‘No, wear it now – I want to see it on.’
He helped her with the clasp and kissed her throat before leaning back to see the effect. ‘Excellent! It looks lovely.’
‘My only regret is that I am not young and beautiful, Ralphie. I never have been, come to think of it. I’ve always been Plain Jane all my life, even as a young woman.’
‘I’m not exactly an Adonis, am I? You wouldn’t give me a second look if you were as young and beautiful as you would like to be. Oh, I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out very well. I do beg your pardon.’ They both laughed and Muriel caught hold of his hands and held them to her chest.
‘That’s what’s nice about us. We can laugh, can’t we?’
‘Oh, my dear.’ Ralph took her in his arms and they kissed as they had never kissed before. They fitted like a glove. Ralph’s fingers traced the line of her collar bone and then the line of her jaw and he kissed her ear and then her forehead and then her mouth again. He began to undo the buttons of her blouse. She very nearly protested but didn’t. Modesty had got her nowhere in the past and it seemed right for Ralph to do as he did.
He suddenly said, ‘We must stop.’ He rebuttoned her blouse and stood up. ‘I must be absolutely truthful with you, Moo. It pains me to say it, but I do not come to this relationship as pure as you do.’
‘I thought not.’
‘I felt you should know. I’ve got to be quite open about it to you. I don’t mean I had frequent casual one-night stands, but there have been others. Not that I am asking for a serious relationship with you.’
Her eyes began filling up with tears. ‘I can’t understand what you mean, Ralphie.’
‘I mean, I’m not going to expect a sexual relationship with you, Moo. I want something better than that.’
‘Oh. I thought you meant you didn’t – you wouldn’t be seeing me …’
‘When the time is right I shall ask you to marry me.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I’ll see you to your door.’
‘No, don’t do that. The village is gossiping quite enough about us as it is and it’s not dark yet. Pericles will be needing a walk.’
Marriage
. Heavens above. And she wouldn’t be plain Mrs Templeton, she’d be Lady Templeton. She couldn’t marry him – could she? Whoever heard of a solicitor’s secretary
becoming a titled person? It was perfectly ridiculous. It wasn’t five minutes since she’d been promising herself no
SEX
and yet today she’d been saying, ‘Why can’t we have a mad passionate affair?’ What had come over her?
Ralph was so generous, beyond anything she had imagined. Maybe that was part of the attraction – maybe she wanted financial security. That was it, she liked him because he could provide her with the things she had never had. She wouldn’t accept anything more from him and next time they went out it would be her treat. No more kissing and holding hands and gifts, strictly platonic till she’d had time to sort her feelings out. Play it cool, as the Americans would say.
Willie, ever mindful of the need for security, always locked the Communion paraphernalia away immediately after use. They didn’t have a safe as such but he had a very strong cupboard bolted to the wall with thick doors and a stout lock. In the past that had been all that was needed.
Peter had spoken of buying a safe for the valuables but had decided the expenditure was not possible. The village sergeant sighed at the prospect of yet another problem on his patch. The beautiful eighteenth-century chalices had been given by the Lord of the Manor at the time, a Sir Tristan Templeton, in memory of his wife and daughters who had drowned on board a ship which had gone down in the Channel in a violent storm. The vessels had been in constant use for two hundred years.
‘Whoever took them, Sergeant, cannot have realised that if they tried to sell them they would be instantly recognised. It was an amateur for certain.’
‘Not necessarily, sir. Organised crime can find outlets abroad for items like Eucharist chalices. You know the story – “Church short of funds must sell to survive” kind of thing and they were beautiful. Some families have been taking Communion from those chalices for generations. The whole village is very upset.’
The habitués in The Royal Oak concluded that no good would come of it.
‘Stealing from the church, how could anybody do it? Talk about the wrath of God, it’s a wonder they weren’t struck dead as they forced the cupboard open.’
‘Believe you me, Willie, whoever’s took ’em will come to no good. Their lives’ll be blighted. Might not happen this week or this year, but as sure as I sit ’ere they’ll have a bad end.’
Jimmy leant closer towards Pat and Willie, checked Betty wasn’t within earshot and whispered, ‘I reckon it’s that Sharon, night she disappeared.’
Pat agreed. ‘Bad lot, she is. I haven’t told a living soul but if you promise me not to breathe a word I’ll tell you what I saw the night ’er and Betty ’ad that row in here.’
‘Go on, then. We won’t split, will we, Jimmy?’
‘Definitely not.’
Pat took a long drink of her lager, settled her bottom more securely on her stool and told them what she’d said to the police.
Willie shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it, Pat. Mr Palmer’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t have that Sharon calling at his house like that. He’s not that kind.’
‘You calling me a liar?’
‘No, I’m just saying you’re mistaken.’
‘I’m not. Is there anyone else roundabouts who looks like Sharon? How many houses is there in the schoolyard? One – and that’s Mr Palmer’s.’
‘Let’s face it, he must have been the last to see her, that’s why the police have been questioning him.’
‘Exactly, Jimmy. Exactly.’
Betty strode across. ‘Finished with your glasses, ’ave yer, and yer tittle tattle? Pity you ’aven’t got something else to talk about. I can see the glances yer keep giving me, making sure I can’t hear yer. Yer ought to be feeling sorry for Mac and me with all the worry we have with our Sharon missing, not gossiping about us.’
Willie stood up. ‘Right, that’s it. I’m coming in here no more. If I can’t talk about what I like when I’m having a quiet pint with me friends then I’m off. You’re an interfering old buzzard you are, Betty. I’ve drunk in this pub for forty years and more but I’ve reached the end of me tether. Good night, Pat. Good night, Jimmy.’
Betty was incensed. ‘That’s right, cut yer nose off to spite yer face. Now where will you go?’
‘I shall cycle down to Penny Fawcett and drink in The Jug and Bottle. Landlady’s a sight more welcoming there than you are, or so I’m told.’
‘If yer ’ad a tandem I’d come with yer, Willie.’
‘Well, I haven’t, Jimmy, so yer can’t.’
Peter was very distressed by the theft of the chalices.
‘If only I’d bought the safe!’
‘Well, you didn’t because the finance wasn’t there so you can hardly be blamed.’
‘I shall buy a safe myself, Caroline, and the Church can pay me back when they can manage it. These treasures are priceless in the life of a small parish like this one. They belong not only to the Church but the parishioners as well, simply because their families have used them for so long. Think how you must feel if you can take Communion knowing that your grandfather, your great-grandfather and your great-great-grandfather and further back than that in some cases, have all drunk from the same chalice. I can never forgive myself.’
‘Maybe a dealer will be offered them and he’ll contact the police.’
‘Let’s hope so. I must get on, there’s a thousand and one things to be done this week.’
‘Is there anything I can help you with, now I’m not working?’
‘Are you enjoying your freedom?’
‘Yes. My mind is obsessed with the twins. I can’t think about anything else. If it’s two boys, what about Thomas and Joshua? If it’s two girls, what about Elizabeth and Sarah? If it’s one of each what about Thomas Joshua and Elizabeth Sarah?’
‘Don’t build up your hopes too much, Caroline. I can hardly dare to think about it. I expect all prospective parents get the shivers sometimes worrying about whether the baby will be all right, and that’s the phase I’m going
through at the moment.’
‘Peter, you mustn’t. I know in my heart of hearts that this will all come right.’ There was a loud knocking on the door. ‘I’ll answer it, it sounds like Willie knocking. Hello, Willie, the rector’s in his study. Come on in.’
‘Mrs Harris, the police is here. They’ve found the chalices. Can the rector come, please?’
‘Thought it was a bomb, sir, they did – as if they’d plant a bomb on Culworth Station. Got the bomb squad in and found it was our chalices. You’ve to formally identify ’em, they say.’
‘I would think you’d be better at that than me, Willie. You’ve been familiar with them a lot longer than I have.’
‘Never mind that, sir. You’re the official person as yer might say.’
Inspector Proctor from Culworth was waiting for them in the vestry.
‘Good morning, Rector. The cups have been tested for fingerprints, sir, so it’s all right to handle them. They are yours, are they, sir?’
‘Yes, indeed they are, Inspector. Thank goodness we’ve got them back – undamaged, too. Where did you find them?’
‘In a case on Culworth Station. Left there by the thief. Might I suggest, sir, that when you’re allowed to have them back they are kept either in a bank vault, or that you provide better security for them than a stout cupboard?’
‘Certainly, Inspector. I shall deal with it as soon as you leave. Thank you very much indeed for all your efforts. No news of Sharon McDonald, I take it?’
‘None at all, sir. I wish there was, for there’s a few loose ends that she could tie up for us if we could find her. No need to say this, sir, but if you should hear anything of her
wherebouts, you will let us know?’
‘Of course, Inspector. We are most indebted to you, thank you again.’
The inspector went round to The Royal Oak after leaving the church. He was carrying a small case. He hammered on the door. A voice called through, ‘We’re not open yet.’
‘Police here, can we come in, please?’
The bolts shot back and the door was opened by Mac. ‘Have you found our Sharon?’
‘No, I’m sorry to say we haven’t, but we wonder if you recognise this case?’
‘I’ll fetch Betty. She’ll know better than me.’
Betty came through from the other bar still wearing her dressing gown.
‘Mrs McDonald, do you recognise this case?’
‘Oh, have yer found her?’ She clutched the bar counter for support.
‘No, we haven’t, but we’ve found this case and we wonder if it’s hers?’
‘Well yes, it certainly looks like one I bought a few years back. I’ll go and check.’ She nodded to the inspector when she returned. ‘That’s right, mine isn’t there, so I expect our Sharon borrowed it to put her stuff in. Have you no clues where she went, Inspector?’
‘We know she went to Culworth Station in the early hours of the day she disappeared and left this case under a seat in the Ladies, and we expect she caught the first London train but we can’t trace her after that.’
‘London? She doesn’t know anybody there.’
‘Lots of young people go to London. Think they won’t get found, with it being so big.’
‘Anyway, Inspector, I’ve a bar to run so you’ll have to
excuse me.’
Mac asked the inspector if the case was empty when they found it.
‘No, Mr McDonald. Inside were the two chalices stolen from St Thomas à Becket.’
Mac sat down heavily on the nearest stool. ‘Is there no end to it? What will that girl do next! I’m right sorry Mr Palmer’s been involved. It wouldn’t be him, you know. It’d be our Sharon – man-mad she’s been for years. I daren’t think what she used to get up to in Culworth.’
‘Well, we’ve a pretty good idea. But don’t trouble yourself with that at the moment, Mr McDonald. If you hear or see anything, let us know straight away, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
Jimbo was surprised to find that Muriel had not turned up for work. She had never been absent before, except when she had gone to Rome. Harriet promised to go round to make sure she was all right.
‘Maybe she’s forgotten it’s Wednesday. I’ve got one or two things to do and then I’ll pop across. Have you seen my action list anywhere? I always put it here by the order book and I can’t find it. Dammit, I’ll have to start remembering all over again. I’ll go and see Muriel first and then make a new list when I get back.’
Harriet knocked on the door and stood admiring Muriel’s winter pansies. However did she find the time to keep her garden so lovely! Every flower was meticulously manicured and all the flowerbeds were so neat and tidy, not a single weed. When Muriel didn’t answer the door she decided to go round the back and knock on the kitchen door. There was still no answer, though somehow she felt
sure there was someone about. Round at the front door again she knocked once more. The door opened a little and there stood Muriel in her dressing gown.
‘Yes? Oh, good morning, Harriet.’
‘It’s only me, come to ask if you’re all right. It’s Wednesday, you see, and you haven’t come to the tearoom.’
‘I’ve got a tummy upset and I’m afraid I can’t leave the house.’
‘I’m so sorry. Look, is there anything I can get you?’
‘No thank you, I’ve got everything I need.’
‘I’ll call again tomorrow and see how you are. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?’
‘Oh no, thank you, not a doctor.’
‘Hope you’ll soon feel better. See you tomorrow.’
Muriel closed the door and stood with her back to it. The knife Sharon was holding was only a foot away from Muriel’s chest.
‘Well done, Moo. We’ll make an actress of you yet.’
‘I’m going to get dressed now.’
‘Oh no, you’re not. You stay like that. Make me some breakfast now.’
There was absolutely no alternative, Sharon had the upper hand. Neither of them had slept all night and Muriel genuinely felt ill. Her mind struggled round and round her problem. She’d called Pericles in from the garden last night and left the door open for him to come in. She’d turned from making her Ovaltine to find Sharon – dishevelled, grimy, without make-up and desperately cold, standing in her kitchen. To think the girl had been hiding in the shed in the churchyard all day, waiting for the village to go quiet before coming to the door. Sharon had taken one of Muriel’s Sabatier knives they’d given her at the office when
she left, so there was no alternative but to do as she said and hope. During the night Sharon had told her the whole story. It was the hot chocolate and the piece of ginger cake which had weakened Sharon’s armour. Muriel made it about two o’clock, more for something to do than any real need.
‘This is nice, Moo. Real homely. That’s what you like, isn’t it, things comfortable and homely, not too challenging? Me, I like change and excitement. Poke the fire a bit, it’s getting cold. Put some more coal on. Neat and tidy, smart and clean, that’s you all over. Mind – there’s a bit of coal-dust on the rug. Whoops, that won’t do, will it? It was a good fire I made at number three, wasn’t it? Nice mess that created. Your Ralphie shouldn’t have told me off that night in the bar. That Ralphie of yours, has he been to bed with you? Don’t be embarrassed, Moo, it’s what makes the world go round. Men – that’s all they want, yer know. King Street in Culworth, you should see the kerb-crawlers there. Nice market town, real piece of Olde England but they’re all at it. I should know. I’ve earned more money there in one night than in a whole week at Tesco’s.’
‘Sharon, I don’t believe you.’
‘No, well, you believe the best in everybody. You won’t find any best in me. I’m rotten through and through.’
‘No one is as bad as that.’