The Village Newcomers (27 page)
But she was brought up short. He was at his desk, looking at their old photographs, which were spread out on his desk, still not in those photo albums Mum had bought specially years ago and never got round to filling with the myriad photos she and Dad had taken of them over the years. He was holding one of her in those favourite red shorts of hers, taken when she was almost three. And there she was, a pretty little blonde, blue-eyed cherub, laughing with glee at something or other, then her dad looked at her, and his eyes began to fill with tears. ‘Obviously I can’t, but I wish, right now, that I could keep you like that for ever and ever.’ He reached out a hand to her and she took it and squeezed it tight. Damn, she thought.
‘I feel concern for you, Beth, about him. You can feel his sexuality almost taking him over sometimes and I do not want you to be the one . . .’
‘You mean you don’t believe in sex outside marriage?’
‘Not sex so freely indulged in as it is at the moment, generally speaking, among people of your age. I feel it can’t be right, more especially for women than for men.’
‘But men have to have women to do it with, haven’t they? Well . . . some don’t, I suppose.’
‘However, my darling, you be in charge, right? This day and every day. You do not allow anything to happen to you about which you have the smallest qualm, nothing shifty nor sneaky nor mean, because that is damaging to one’s spirit. Real love has nothing of that in it. Real love is beautiful. Have I your promise on that?’
Beth nodded.
‘Keep this picture of all that innocence in your mind.’ He held up the cherub to remind her. ‘Don’t lose it to any Tom, Dick or Harry. OK?’
‘OK.’
‘I’m going for a walk. Want to come?’
‘No, I’ve got prep to do. Dad, you’re not saying sex can’t be decent and respectable?’
‘I’m talking about
loving
. That’s something special and worthwhile, completely different from common-or-garden sex that people talk so glibly about.’
loving
. That’s something special and worthwhile, completely different from common-or-garden sex that people talk so glibly about.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Have you had a word with Jake, warning him off, kind of?’
Peter shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’
She knew he was speaking the truth, him being so keen on it.
‘Thanks, Dad. Don’t talk to Alex about this, will you? What you’ve said to me?’
‘Strictly private. Help me collect this lot together.’
So she did. They were all put back as they usually were in a box file till that mythical moment when Mum had time.
‘Must go and change. I admire you for working hard at school; it is the only way to achieve your objectives.’
‘You don’t know what my objectives are.’
‘No, I don’t. Do you know?’
‘Oh, yes. I decided the other day, I’m going for a PhD in archaeology. All that mud and unearthing things buried for generations. Tramping along in trenches and finding just a little something someone used hundreds of years ago and being able to hold it and feel it and think about them and lift up a tiny corner of their century to throw some light on the way they lived their lives.’
‘Right!’ He placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’m surprised by that. I’m beginning to think I don’t know my daughter at all.’
Beth looked up at him, admiring his loving, handsome face and the sheer incandescent joy of him, and said, ‘Oh, I think you do, dearest Papa, you truly do.’ She shook her head. ‘You truly do. Enjoy your walk.’
Caroline accompanied Peter on his walk, leaving Alex and Beth in the Rectory alone. Beth made a cup of tea just how Alex liked it and took it upstairs to the attic for him.
‘It’s me with tea and biscuits for the workaholic.’
She pushed the door open with her knee and walked in. He was sitting in his easy chair reading the physics book Jake had given him the other day. He put his bookmark in and closed it.
‘Thanks. I need that. And biscuits, too. Thanks. Enjoy your ride? Buy anything?’
‘Yes. No. Why did you beat him up?’
Startled by the unexpectedness of her question, Alex answered cautiously, well aware he was in treacherous territory.
‘Felt like it.’
‘Alex Harris does nothing without a very good reason.’
‘OK. I overheard him boasting.’
‘Boasting? About what?’ Then her face drained of colour. ‘Not me?’
Alex nodded. ‘This tea’s nice. Thanks.’
‘I haven’t known you all these years without knowing how you like your tea.’
‘Mum and Dad gone out?’
‘Yes, for a walk. I think you owe it to me to tell me why you beat him up. Really tell me.’
Choosing his words with the greatest care, Alex told her not the actual words, they were too foul, rather their implication. ‘I know it’s not true because you told me about why you ran home. I know it’s hard to forget what happened in Africa . . . but remember . . . it . . .
didn’t actually happen
, only might have done, and that’s the difference.’ Alex swallowed hard, recalling smashing the soldier’s skull with the butt of the man’s own rifle.
didn’t actually happen
, only might have done, and that’s the difference.’ Alex swallowed hard, recalling smashing the soldier’s skull with the butt of the man’s own rifle.
‘Jake exaggerated what happened in Sykes Wood to boost his own ego and make himself appear special - men can be like that, you know. I couldn’t stand letting him get away with it, that’s all. Not when it was you.’
Beth sat silently for a while, thinking about Jake and wondering why he said what wasn’t true. If he had real feelings for her he wouldn’t have said what he did in the showers. She knew Alex wouldn’t have spoken like that about a girlfriend of his. Her voice trembled when she next spoke. ‘I find it so hard to believe he talked about me like that. There’s a side to him I know nothing about, isn’t there? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’
‘No need to. I don’t know him all that well. We simply go to the same school, that’s all. Pass me another biscuit, please. How did you know?’
‘Jake mentioned it and then immediately I could see he wished he hadn’t. Now I know why. He’s definitely gone off me. I thought Dad had said something but he hasn’t and I believe him, so it must be my fault.’
‘I doubt it by the look on his face when we were having coffee.’
Hope rose for Beth. ‘Look on his face?’
‘I caught him admiring you.’
‘Oh! Wow!’
‘Remember, when you sup with the devil, Beth, you need a long spoon.’
‘Where on earth did you get that from?’
‘Grandmama Charter-Plackett. She used it once and I thought it was rather a good thing to remember.’
‘Right. Thanks for standing up for me, anyway.’
‘Anytime. Here, take my cup.’ He picked up the physics book and Beth thought about it being with Jake in Jake’s room, in Jake’s bag. His hands had held it, his fingers had touched it, his eyes had read it . . . then she recalled he was not all pure gold, and, yes, she’d better be in charge. In fact, she rather gloried in Alex fighting him. No more than he deserved for the things he’d lied about doing in Sykes Wood. She’d have to alter her tactics where Master Jake was concerned. A dose of indifference might be effective. But it would be hard, so very hard. He had such . . . kissability. He was just the most truly sublime man she’d ever met.
So it was Jake feeling rejected on Monday morning when Beth ignored him and didn’t even offer to sit next to him on the coach when it arrived. Had she learned about Janey? He rather hoped not. He wouldn’t want her hurt because of him. She couldn’t have heard; he and Janey had been so discreet. He’d have to win Beth back for the simple reason that the beauty of her, both inside and out, would not leave his mind. He’d never met a girl who appealed to him as much as she did. Even her family, especially the Rector, somehow raised his aspirations, made him know for certain that there were better things in life than a careless mother with a string of men, than a father deeply lonely for his son, than the chaotic lifestyle he suffered: a place where life was ordered and uplifting, where respecting each other was valued. He’d deserved the hiding Alex gave him, for what he’d said about her was completely untrue and unforgivable, and he needed to make it up to her.
On the Wednesday of that week Caroline wasn’t ‘doctoring’, as Dottie called it, so she had time to read the post when it came just after the twins had left for the school coach. Peter had gone out early to attend a retreat at the Abbey in Culworth, so once the breakfast was cleared up and Dottie had got cracking with her Wednesday chores, Caroline settled down in her rocking chair beside the Aga and found the first letter was for Beth in a handwriting she didn’t recognise. For a brief moment her heart lurched. Not Suzy Palmer again, please God. But then she knew it wasn’t and saw she had one, too, in the same handwriting.
Intensely curious, she quickly opened her envelope and found it was a very beautiful card from Jake, obviously chosen with great care, thanking her for the lovely lunch on Sunday and saying how much he had enjoyed their company, the conversation and the welcome. Signed, Sincerely yours, Jake Jonathan Harding.
Caroline had to laugh. He was certainly trying hard, was the boy. She closed the card and studied the picture on the front. It was a wonderful print of a painting by Turner called
Sunrise Between Two Headlands
. So the boy had taste, then. She wondered about him, about how much he truly valued Beth, or how little. It was difficult to assess. He certainly hadn’t valued her when Alex had that fight with him. But on Sunday she’d noticed how intently he listened to Peter’s sermon, and how at lunchtime she’d caught him listening to Beth with a lovely expression on his face. His home life sounded appalling but it didn’t mean he was, and she mustn’t pre-judge.
Sunrise Between Two Headlands
. So the boy had taste, then. She wondered about him, about how much he truly valued Beth, or how little. It was difficult to assess. He certainly hadn’t valued her when Alex had that fight with him. But on Sunday she’d noticed how intently he listened to Peter’s sermon, and how at lunchtime she’d caught him listening to Beth with a lovely expression on his face. His home life sounded appalling but it didn’t mean he was, and she mustn’t pre-judge.
Three letters for Peter, two catalogues she hadn’t asked for and then . . . another letter for her, the address handwritten, and she knew immediately who it was from. Her heart thudded and there was an unaccustomed beating in her ears. She tore it open, ripping the letter out of the envelope, almost tearing it in half.
She unfolded it and read at the bottom ‘Sincerely, Suzy Palmer’. Caroline groaned.
Dottie appeared at the kitchen door. ‘All right, Doctor? I thought I heard you call out.’
Caroline swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes pricking with tears. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
Dottie said, ‘Well, I don’t think you are. You’re as white as a sheet. I’m either putting the kettle on or getting the brandy out.’
The snappy reply she got shook her. ‘No, thank you, I need nothing at all. Get on with your work, if you please.’
Dottie crept away, chastened but worried, too. The Doctor had never spoken to her in that tone before. Opening a letter, she was. Not from that dreadful Suzy, surely to goodness.
Dear Caroline,Have you ever thought what a very lucky woman you are? Not only have you my children but also the only man I have ever loved. I know I have had two husbands and to outsiders it must appear that I have had two wonderful chances for happiness in my life. In fact, I know now I loved neither of them. I thought I did but in truth it is Peter who should have been my husband. How can you be so cruel as to withhold from me what he and I created in a moment of deeply intense passion?You alone - Peter would never have done such a thing - have put pressure on our children in a very underhand manner to prevent them from getting to know me and, worse still, your love for Peter is keeping the two of us apart, two people who should be together.This letter is to ask you to insist the children come to stay with me now and again, and to release Peter from his marriage vows and let him become my husband, which at the bottom of your heart you know is where he belongs.Church of England priests can be divorced and still carry on with their ministry, and of course I would not be teaching and could assist him in every way possible in his work, which you as a doctor cannot possibly do with the same devotion.Think hard, Caroline, about what I have written and search your heart as to whether or not you are doing the right thing. I think you will find I am right.Sincerely,
Suzy Palmer
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