Village Gossip (20 page)

‘What do you think, Dr Harris, are they all right?’

‘They’re wonderful, Sheila, I told you so last night. Absolutely right. Even the vase.’

‘Hugo likes them, too, in fact he raved over them, so I suppose they must be. The dear man. He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?’ She tidied the angle of one of her gladioli then stood back and admired her arrangement. ‘So lovely, we shall miss him when he goes. You will too, I expect. Ron and I have been thinking of buying tickets for Stratford when he’s on. We’ve never been, ever. Do you think it would be a good idea?’

Caroline agreed it would, and would Sheila mind if she left her to it as her first night nerves were at breaking point.

It served to categorise Caroline’s passion for Hugo at the lowest level imaginable. What had been fine and beautiful and fullfilling was reduced in a moment to tawdry and commonplace by Sheila’s gesture. She spun on her heel and went back to the minute dressing room she shared with Liz, Harriet and Michelle. All there was for her to sit on was a bathroom stool someone had brought from home. Caroline sat on it with her hands clenched, without speaking, letting the excited conversation of the other three swirl around her.

Harriet, knees bent so that she could see into the mirror she’d propped up on the narrow windowsill, broke off from combing her hair to admire Michelle’s dress. ‘Oh, that does look lovely! I’ll say this for her, your grandmother knows her stuff.’

Michelle pirouetted in front of them in the dress she would be wearing in the first act. ‘Just wish I felt as lovely as it looks! I don’t know what made me agree to do this. It’s not my scene at all. I’ve only kept going because Mum’s so thrilled at me having the chance.’

Harriet wagged her finger, ‘Who’s leg do you think you’re pulling! Rhett’s the draw and no wonder! I can’t believe he’s the same boy, young man I should say.’

Michelle blushed. ‘He is doing brilliantly, isn’t he?’

‘And so are you, isn’t she, Caroline?’

Caroline looked up. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t listening.’

There came a loud rap on the door and, as it opened slightly, they heard Hugo saying, ‘Everyone respectable, can I come in?’

He cut such a dashing figure in his slacks, high at the waist in the nineteen twenties’ fashion, an open-necked shirt with a dark cravat at his neck and his hair sleeked down with gel, they quite forgot they’d seen him the previous night at the rehearsal dressed just like this. Somehow there was an extra vitality about him, an added buzz which made him larger than life. The small room seemed scarcely large enough to contain him.

‘All my favourite ladies prospering, are they?’ But his question was really aimed at Caroline and the other three knew it.

She fell under his spell immediately and began to glow. ‘We are.’

‘Excellent. Fifteen minutes to blast off. Good luck!’ He held Caroline’s eyes for a moment and smiled especially for her.

‘Good luck!’ The four of them called as he closed the door.

Caroline acted stupendously well that night. Her performance was way beyond anything she had ever expected of herself. Congratulations flooded in, from villagers, from the press, from friends. When she finally arrived home at the Rectory she was on a high.

‘Peter! Oh, Peter! It was brilliant! Marvellous! Wonderful! I can’t find words to describe how well it’s gone. Hugo is in his seventh heaven.’

Peter held his arms out wide and she went into them and he hugged her. ‘I’m so glad! I can’t wait to see it tomorrow night. I am prepared for being very impressed!’

‘Tell me what you fancy and it shall be yours.’

‘Water. Cold, cold water. A jug full!’

After she’d drunk two glasses she said, ‘We had one
faux pas
, that was all, but Hugo got us through it. There isn’t any wonder that he’s at the top of his profession! I can’t wait to see him in
Hamlet
. He’ll make a perfectly splendid one, I know. It’s only because of him that we’ve done so well. Thank God for Hugo!’

‘Indeed.’ Peter sat down in the other chair and fidgeted with his wedding ring. ‘I’m truly glad it went well, Mr Fitch will be glowing tomorrow night. He’s quite childish sometimes about how his money can achieve things. He said to me last night how impressed he was with Rhett Wright. He made it sound as though it was he, Craddock Fitch himself, who’d got Rhett to act so well.’

Caroline sat up. ‘Where did you see Craddock Fitch? I thought he’d only got home yesterday?’

‘He did. He popped in to see me.’

‘What did he want?’

‘This and that.’ Peter stood up. ‘Finished? I’ll clear away.’

‘Well?’

He looked down at her and thought about Venetia believing that everything between him and Caroline was clear and open. ‘Came to tell me he’s dropping the prosecution.’

But Peter had gone towards the kitchen. She followed him in. Her two cats were settled for the night in their basket so she kissed them on the tops of their heads, tickled their stomachs as they rolled over to wallow in her attention and then looked at Peter’s back as he rinsed out her glass and got out a clean tea towel.

‘Peter!’

‘Yes?’

There was a pause. ‘Oh, nothing. I’m going to bed.’

‘Won’t be long.’

‘You deserve first prize for your …’ He turned to face her. ‘… loving patience.’

He turned back to the sink, put the well dried glass in the cupboard above the draining board and said, ‘I’ll follow you up in a while. Tell me more about the play tomorrow, you look completely whacked right now.’

Disappointed he hadn’t taken up her remark she said, ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight. I’m so proud of you. God bless.’

‘And you.’

Caroline fell asleep almost immediately and never realised that it was more than an hour before Peter, having spent an anguished time thinking over his situation, climbed the stairs to bed. He’d sat at his desk, head in hands, mulling over how he would handle the situation the following night. He’d smiled wryly to himself when he thought about the notion he’d had that morning of dramatically strangling Hugo in the wings at the end of the play as the final applause faded away. No, that wouldn’t do! The publicity! And he didn’t fancy a stretch in prison.

Appeal to Hugo’s better nature? He didn’t have one.

Threaten him? Not a suitable action for a pacifist to take.

Cajole him? Hugo would simply laugh.

But somehow his exit from Turnham Malpas had to be brought off with the minimum of harm to Caroline.

Peter picked up the photograph he kept on his desk. It was the one he’d taken of her and the children on their first seaside holiday. She had a twin nestling in the crook of each arm and was nuzzling her cheek against Alex’s head. He remembered how the people in the hotel had commented on how like him Alex was, and how Beth had a look of Caroline, hadn’t she? He owed her so much. Her forgiveness alone was something he would never be able to repay, not if he lived a thousand years. Who was he to feel so desperately injured at this moment?

Peter replaced the photograph and knelt to pray for guidance.

On the Saturday night the play received a rapturous reception at the end of the first act. Mr Fitch’s guests were incredibly impressed and told him so when they gathered for coffee during the interval.

‘God! Fitch! You’ve boasted about this village of yours often enough, but bless me it’s come right up to scratch and no mistake! It’s like as if it’s for real. Amazing!’

‘Fitch! Where in heaven’s name have you found such talent? Can’t quite believe it in a village this size.’

‘How come you cornered Hugo Maude? Even I’ve heard of him, so he must be good. Damn me! Introduce me, would you? My Angela will be green as hell … Beg yer pardon, forgot I was in a Church Hall.’

Peter, at Mr Fitch’s request, had just come to join the group and overheard the last remark. He ignored the comment and tolerated being introduced to everyone with as good a grace as he could muster. Inside he seethed with despair. Accepting their congratulations on his wife’s wonderful performance as cheerfully as he could, he longed for the interval bell to go so that he could slide back into anonimity in the darkness of the Church Hall and lick his wounds. He couldn’t take much more.

When it came to the scene when Caroline told her lover that it was all over, Peter’s flesh crawled.

‘
I cannot go on. I have the children to think of. I suspect that Julian is ashamed of me, and I am too if I really think about it. Daisy hates it, too. She loves her father, you see, and knows how hurt he is. As a mother I have my duty to do. They didn’t ask to be born, and they are flesh of my flesh and as such deserve the best of me. I have a husband who deserves none of this anguish …
’

‘
But what about love? You haven’t mentioned love. Surely it deserves a place in our lives. You’ve said yourself you don’t love him any more
.’

Marian turned angrily on him. ‘
I’ve never said I don’t love him. You’re putting words in my mouth. What I am saying is I will not divorce my children’s father, I will not. For their sakes, I will not!
’

Leonard went to sit beside her on the sofa and, taking her hand in his, he asked, ‘
Taking this course of action will slowly but surely destroy you. No one should have to make this kind of sacrifice. I’m offering you love, doesn’t that count for something
?’

‘
Not enough? What more can one ask? I shall love you to my dying day
.’ He brushed her hair from her face and held her head between his hands, looking closely at her. ‘
If he loved you like I do he’d let you go, if that was where your happiness lay. It’s all so easy, just come
.’

‘
And live a life in corners, hardly daring to acknowledge each other. Perhaps in thirty, forty, fifty years things might be different but now I’d be classed as a wicked woman, make no mistake about that. I can’t live that kind of life and he wouldn’t divorce me anyway
.’

‘
Make him
.’

Marian shook her head. ‘
It’s against his principles
.’

Leonard mocked her. ‘
Divorce might be against his principles but torturing his wife isn’t, then
?’

‘
You’re being ridiculous. In any case living your kind of life from one house party to the next wouldn’t be my kind of life. I need stability, a structure, security. It sounds pathetic, I know, but it’s true
.’ She took his hand from her face, kissed the palm and whispered, ‘
Don’t, please, don’t make it hard for me to say goodbye. I love you like life itself. Since I met you … Before you, he and I trudged on, going through the motions but you …
’ she traced his features with a trembling finger ‘…
you’ve made each moment of every day throb with life. The sun is brighter, the sky more blue, the world more entrancing. That’s been your gift to me …
’

‘
But, darling …
’