Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Village Matters (12 page)
‘In the nursery, Peter.’
He appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m going to look a complete idiot in church this morning with this big bruise. It would be the very day we’ll be using the altar silver for the first time and the church will be full. Is there anything I can do, do you think?’
Caroline traced her finger along his jawline and made him wince. ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt. It’s swollen too, that ice we used last night didn’t have the desired effect, did it? There won’t be many rectors conducting matins this morning with a swollen jaw got in a pub brawl.’
‘It wasn’t a brawl, darling. Well, yes it was, but I wasn’t part of it.’ Alex flung his arms round Peter’s legs and squeezed hard. ‘No, no, Alex, this cassock’s clean on, I don’t want your sticky fingers on it, young man. Good boy. Well, what’s the answer? It’s no laughing matter.’ Despite himself Peter had to laugh when he looked in the nursery mirror. Alex, whose vocabulary, though limited, was always spoken at the top of his voice, shouted, ‘Dada poorly.’ Beth looked on, thumb in mouth.
‘Makeup? The congregation will have doubts about my sexual proclivities.’
Caroline grinned wickedly. ‘I doubt it, with these two rampaging in the rectory pew! If I smooth moisturiser on I’ll probably hurt you, so you do it and then put some powder on over the top.’
‘No. I’ve decided, it’s happened, everyone knows, so why worry. I’ll go as I am.’ He bent down to kiss her. She put her arms round his neck, laid her face against his good cheek, and whispered in his ear, ‘Come, to think of it though, you do wear a skirt!’
Peter playfully slapped her bottom and escaped from the nursery with Caroline in pursuit. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she shouted from half way down the stairs. The front door slammed and Caroline, laughing, captured Alex as he struggled down the stairs after his father.
‘Nappy time you two, and then off to church.’
Mrs Peel, in the two years and a bit that Peter had been rector, had developed the music beyond her wildest dreams, Peter’s educated interest and talent having inspired her to reach new heights. Caroline entered the church to find it filled with a haunting melody. No one chattered, they were all listening. The music set the mood wonderfully, and she felt grateful that Peter had such a wonderful atmosphere created for him before he began his part of the worship.
In between coping with the twins’ energies and wishing for about the hundredth time that there was a crèche for the little ones, Caroline took time to admire the altar. The old silver gleamed in the special lights Willie had fitted. Willie had decided that if they were to have it all on display then
display it they would, and he’d spent a long time trying first one combination and then another until he’d got the effect just right. Muriel and Ralph came in and sat in their front pew. She glanced along her pew just in front of the lectern and smiled at the two of them. Alex called out ‘Mooey. Mooey,’ and waved to Muriel.
‘Shhhhh.’ Caroline put her finger to her lips but Alex simply smiled. Then Mrs Peel began the processional hymn, and Beth settled herself for a sleep, as she always did when Peter came in. He claimed that the first time Beth stayed awake for his sermon he would know he’d finally reached the height of his preaching powers. Alex saw Peter and shouted ‘Dada, Dada.’ Caroline’s fìnger on his lips was far too late. She knew he made the congregation smile each time he said it, but privately she knew it upset Peter.
The service went beautifully and Caroline, despite the harassment of Alex wriggling about and trying to sing in all the wrong places, found it a deeply spiritual occasion. That was the lovely thing about Peter’s services, so simple, so easy to understand his message, and yet so thought-provoking and moving. He stood on the altar steps waiting for the sidesmen to bring their individual collection plates to him. The collection plate came round and Alex put his twenty pence piece in and one for Beth, who was still asleep. Caroline put her envelope in and watched the sidesman take the plate to the other side of the aisle. He paused, for what seemed an eternity, and stood looking at Ralph, quite still, collection plate in hand. From where she sat Caroline could almost feel the sparks fly between the two of them. Then he deliberately moved to the next pew without passing the plate to him. Ralph, who had looked him straight in the eye when he’d hesitated with the plate,
quietly put his collection back in his pocket. Muriel blushed to the roots of her hair, took out her handkerchief with a trembling hand and dabbed at her top lip and forehead. The entire congregation noticed what had happened, including Peter, whose face was like thunder.
Mrs Peel, watching in the organ mirror for when the collection plates arrived at the altar steps, stumbled with her notes and had to stop and begin the phrase again. Caroline suddenly found she could hardly see for the haze of embarrassment which had come down in front of her eyes. At that moment Alex slipped off the pew and fell head first with a resounding clatter onto the floor. His screams reverberated around the church. In her handbag Caroline found his dummy and, though she hated him sucking it in public, she rescued it from its plastic bag and popped it into his mouth. The howling stopped as though by magic, and Caroline busied herself rubbing his head and examining it for damage. She waited apprehensively to see what Peter would do.
The sidesmen came to stand before Peter, and waited for him to hold the huge silver dish ready to receive the collection. He looked down on them in silence. The congregation waited with bated breath. He replaced the dish on the altar and stepped forward down the steps. Looking straight at the sidesman who had so resolutely refused to do his duty by Ralph and Muriel, he reached out and took the plate from him. Then Peter went to Ralph and stood patiently waiting while he got his collection out again. Of course it had caught in his pocket and there was a moment when Ralph was struggling, Mrs Peel was running out of music because of the delay, and loud sucking noises could be heard from the rectory pew.
Peter returned to the altar steps, put the collection plate
on his dish, and then waited to receive the others. Loud mutterings could be heard all over the church.
Caroline was never more glad to reach the end of the service. Beth woke as Peter left the church. Caroline collected the two of them together and headed for the church porch to stand with Peter ready to shake hands with the congregation, but Peter was nowhere to be seen and she stood there by herself.
‘So sorry, Dr Harris, whatever came over ’im?’
‘What’s it all about, do you know, Dr Harris?’
‘Well, I never, what a to do. You all right then, little Alex, all right are yer? Rare old tumble you had there, and not half.’
‘What with the rector’s jaw and little Alex’s head, good job you’re a doctor, ain’t it?’
‘Your Beth’s as good as gold in church, but little Alex is a right card.’ The speaker patted their heads. ‘We’ll have to start a crèche, what with your two and little Frances now, and there’s them from Nightingale Farm, right brood they’ve got up there and no mistake. Four it is now, and not one of ’em at school yet. They can’t keep four of ’em quiet in the pew, can theys?’
‘He needs telling off, he does. Hope the rector gives it him good and proper.’
In the vestry the sidesman
was
getting it good and proper.
‘No matter what your views are in this matter, Arthur, the church is not the place to air them.’
‘He’s no right to be making money out of the villagers. He’s got plenty and he needs no more than what he’s got, he’s not that many years left and no one to inherit.’
‘Sir Ralph’s financial status has absolutely nothing to do with this matter. You deliberately prevented him from offering himself to God’s service. This is what one is doing
when one puts money in the offertory. Giving oneself as well as the money.’
‘Well, you would see it like that, Rector. It’s my opinion the church doesn’t want his kind of money. They say he’s building a hundred houses on there. What hope have we for a real village life with that landed on us?’
‘So providing homes for villagers which they can afford is a nonsense is it?’
‘Not a nonsense, Rector, a money-making deal that’s what it is. He’ll get planning permission, sell the land to the highest bidder and pocket the money. Money, money, money, that’s all he thinks about. Next news we’ll have yobbos and drugs and joy riding, it’ll never be the same again.’
‘That could be a danger, and whilst I appreciate your views, you have no right whatsoever to do what you did this morning. None. Absolutely none. I am deeply grieved, Arthur, deeply grieved. It leaves me feeling very sad.’
‘I’m deeply grieved too.’
‘I get the feeling that there’s more to this. Is there something I don’t know, or is it just the houses?’
Arthur paused for a moment and then said, ‘As you say, just the houses.’ He stopped again, thought for a few seconds, and then taking a deep breath said: ‘I object to him sitting in his Lord of the Manor pew, with his Lord of the Manor look on his face, making money hand over fist by spoiling our village. As if he’s got some kind of supreme right to do as he wishes because of what he was. I’m not the only one who thinks like that either. T’ain’t Christian.’
‘That’s a matter between Sir Ralph and his God. I’m afraid an apology is needed.’
‘To you?’
‘To me. Oh yes! And best of all to Sir Ralph.’
‘Thank you for your apology and it’s accepted wholeheartedly. Friends again, Arthur?’ Peter held out his hand. ‘And next Sunday?’
‘I’ll take the collection at the back not the front, there’ll be no repetition of this morning, Rector, that I promise.’ Arthur looked up at Peter and smiled. He shook Peter’s hand vigorously. ‘You’ve a very persuasive way with you, Rector. That wife of yours must have a devil of a job getting her own way about things. You could charm a monkey out of a tree, you could. Glad we’ve got you here at St Thomas’s, though. You’re the best thing that’s happened in a long time. I’ll say good morning to you. See you next Sunday.’ As he left the vestry he turned at the door, smiled and said, ‘Will you sign my petition?’
‘I’ll think about it!’
Peter went out in search of Ralph, but he and Muriel had already left.
‘My dear Muriel, sit down here in your favourite chair and I’ll make you a cup of tea, I think that’s just what you need.’ He disappeared into the kitchen. Muriel didn’t like him in there, it didn’t feel to be a man’s job making tea, but at the moment she was grateful. In church, to be rebuffed in church like that. In front of everybody. She felt so mortified. That was what made it feel so bad. He’d shown them up in front of everyone. How could that Arthur Prior do it to them? What business was it of his, anyway? She’d dread the collection being taken every Sunday from now
on, wondering if he would do it again. People didn’t care any more what they did or who they hurt, so long as they made their protest. She’d never dare show her face in church, not ever. How could she tell Ralph to abandon the idea of the houses, when he was so set on it?
He came in with the tray at that moment. ‘I’ll pour, you sit there and relax.’ He sat with his hands resting on his knees, watching her and waiting for the tea to brew. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, it will all blow over. They’ll all talk a lot and make a big fuss but we shall quietly get on with our project and they’ll all come round, see if they don’t. When they see how tastefully designed your houses are they’ll love ’em.’ She watched his elegant hands as they poured her tea, she never tired of watching them, so sensitive they were, really very artistic. When he placed her cup on the table beside her chair she said, ‘Oh Ralph, I thought I was going to die.’ Muriel took a sip of her tea. ‘What a humiliation. I could strangle that Arthur. What right has he to sit in judgement on us? Peter was very upset.’
‘He’d every right to be.’
‘I shall never go to St Thomas’s ever again. We’ll have to go to church in Culworth.’
‘Generations of the Templeton family have worshipped in St Thomas’s. I’ve no intention of allowing Arthur to stop
me
, the very last of them.’
‘We’re both assuming it’s about the spare land. I expect that
was
it, wasn’t it?’
Ralph emphatically agreed. ‘Yes.’
‘Maybe we should forget the whole thing and leave it as it has always been, a lovely piece of nature for us all to enjoy. If Arthur comes round here to apologise I shall run upstairs out of the way. Say I’m indisposed or something.’
‘Living dangerously hasn’t lasted long.’ Ralph smiled and patted her shoulder.
‘I’m not very consistent, am I?’
The bell rang, and they heard the door opening. Muriel looked petrified, but then she heard Peter’s voice.
‘Hello there, Peter here, may I come in?’ He appeared in the sitting-room doorway.
Ralph stood up. ‘Come in, come in.’
‘Come to offer my apologies about this morning in church. Arthur has apologised to me but he won’t come here and apologise to you, Ralph. It’s all about the spare land. He claims you are going to sell it with planning permission for a hundred houses. Is this true?’
‘I am still waiting for confirmation from the council that they agree the land is definitely mine. When I’ve got that in writing from their solicitors, I shall apply for permission to build houses for rent on it. How many I do not know, as yet. That’s the story Peter.’
‘I see. Well, thanks for telling me. You all right, Muriel? Don’t worry, it won’t happen again, he’s promised.’
‘Are
you
all right, after the fight in the bar last night?’
‘Yes, apart from my colourful bruise. You see, that’s what Arthur is worried about, masses of houses and bringing in what he considers are all the wrong influences like brawling, drugs, motorbikes and that kind of thing.’
‘Well, we’ll see, we’ll see.’ Ralph stood up and Peter took the hint.
‘I’ll be on my way then. See you soon. I’ll let myself out.’
When Peter had closed the door, Ralph said, ‘If we’re not careful he will be persuading us not to go ahead. He doesn’t like there to be dissension in the village, wants us all to live in harmony. Well, I won’t be dissuaded from going ahead. My mind’s made up.’