Read The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Online
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (6 page)
The sun had gone in and it had become quite chilly. She decided that she was only making an excuse to have some one to talk to. That was it – she was so lonely she had to make up excuses to talk to people. What must it be like, to be grateful for a moment of peace and quiet? Fancy being so busy, so very busy that being left alone felt like a bonus.
That was it, then. She would march purposefully across the green, down Shepherd’s Hill and cross the spare land and walk by Turnham Beck. Pericles liked rooting about on
the banks. Do something positive, she had read in a magazine article. Yes,
positive
. Her brown walking shoes made quite a brisk noise as she set off determinedly for the beck.
It must have been over an hour before she came back into Shepherd’s Hill and turned up Jacks Lane. As she came out at the top of the lane and crossed to her house she glanced towards the rectory and saw Peter leaving Suzy’s house. Poor dear, she must be very distressed. How thoughtful of the rector to spend so much time with her. Muriel waved enthusiastically to him but he didn’t see her. It must be very draining, she thought, dealing with people who are bereaved.
The following Tuesday was not one of Muriel’s better days. She played the piano at the school from 10.30 to 11.30; half an hour for the Infants and then, while they were out at play, half an hour for the Juniors. The first half hour she always enjoyed. Toria Clark was a lovely, lively girl just right for tiny ones, but the Juniors were another story. How Mr Palmer controlled them she didn’t know. So calm he was, and yet they did as they were told.
Muriel had very nearly been late for school. She’d begun baking early for a coffee morning, but somehow the cakes had not been ready to come out of the oven and she’d had to wait around. Finally, she’d got to school. She usually put her coat and her keys in the tiny teachers’ room, but being late she’d left them on top of the piano. Halfway through the Juniors’ lesson, half a dozen infants had come running in, shouting: ‘Miss Hipkin! Peri-what’s-it is in the playground.’ They were closely followed by what appeared to be the entire Infant Department. Miss Clark also came hurrying in, hoping to retrieve the Juniors’ singing lesson
before it was too late.
Pandemonium reigned. The entire school rushed out to help catch the errant poodle, but by that time, Pericles was over the wall and well on his way down to the beck. With a booming command, Mr Palmer stopped the children from crossing Shepherd’s Hill just in time, and ushered them all back into school. Meanwhile, the singing lesson forgotten, Muriel stumbled on the rough ground as she hurried after him. ‘Pericles, Pericles!’
She shouted in vain. He scampered on, leaving her well behind. Tears began to run over the edges of her eyes and trickle down her face. She hadn’t anyone who cared, apart from Pericles, and even he had decided to desert her. She struggled on, calling his name. Just as she had given up on him and decided to sit down on the grass and wait, Sir Ronald appeared with Pericles tucked under one arm and Lady Bissett’s Pomeranian under the other.
‘Found him digging a big hole down by that rabbit burrow in the bottom field. ’Fraid he’s dirty, Miss Hipkin. Now, now, don’t take on so. He’s safe and sound.’ He handed Pericles to her and she thanked him profusely. Muriel didn’t enjoy being under an obligation to such a common man but she had to tolerate it.
‘Thank you very much indeed. How he got out of the house I don’t know. I do appreciate your kindness, Sir Ronald. Thank you again.’
When she got back to school the caretaker was getting the hall ready for dinners.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Mrs Duckett. I left my coat and keys on top of the piano.’
‘Here’s yer coat but there ain’t no keys with it, Miss Hipkin.’
‘Oh, there are. I left them there.’
‘Only yer coat. There ain’t no keys whatsoever.’
Muriel looked under the piano and moved the chairs about in the hope that they had been knocked off in the excitement.
‘I’ve just put all them chairs ready for dinners, do you mind!’
‘Sorry, Mrs Duckett. Maybe I never locked the house at all – perhaps that’s how Pericles got out. Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t been burgled!’
‘Don’t put that Prickles down in ’ere, this floor’s clean.’
‘Sorry. I’ll be off then.’
She hurried home to find the back door wide open but the front door locked and no sign of her keys. She spent most of the afternoon worrying herself to death. She must pull herself together. Sixty-four didn’t mean you were in your dotage. The keys must be at school somewhere. Her spare ones were hidden under a plant pot in the back garden. She’d use those till the others turned up. What a mercy she’d hidden the spare set in case she ever locked herself out.
The next two nights were uncomfortable ones and she didn’t sleep at all well. On the Thursday when she went to school to play for movement lessons, Michael Palmer greeted her, jangling her keys in his hand.
‘Look what I’ve just found amongst the music in the piano stool. I was sorting out what we needed for this morning and there they were.’
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Palmer. What a relief! How foolish of me.’
The postman rarely called at number I Glebe Cottages, but on the mat the next morning was a lovely thick envelope. Inside was a gold-edged invitation card. Harriet and James Charter-Plackett invited Miss Muriel Hipkin to dinner to
celebrate James’s fortieth birthday. Formal dress. Never, ever, had Muriel attended any event at which the gentlemen wore dinner jackets. The incident of the keys dwindled into insignificance. Two weeks today, no – two weeks and one day. What on earth should she wear? And what should she buy Jimbo for his birthday? Equally important, who else had been honoured with an invitation? Her finances were stretched to the limit just living from day to day; extra expense caused havoc. The only answer would be to dip into her capital. After all, this
was
the highlight of her year. Surely she could afford to live dangerously for a while? A visit to Culworth and the Building Society was a must and while she was there she would look for a suitable present and for a dress.
Wednesday would be the best day to go. Monday didn’t seem the right day for shopping in her mind; there was too much washing and ironing to do and tidying of the house after the weekend. Tuesday and Thursday she was needed at the school, and Friday morning she played for the morning prayers in the church, which meant that she would miss the only bus into town. So Wednesday it was.
Tuesday evening there was a knock at the door and on the step stood Caroline Harris.
‘Hope I’m not intruding. I felt like a chat – have you the time?’
‘Of course! Do come in. Shall we have a cup of tea, or would you like a sherry? I do have a very nice one. It’s years old and very good.’
‘Sherry would make a delightful change from the gallons of tea I drink at the hospital. I swear if there was a shortage of tea the whole place would grind to a halt. What a lovely house you have, Muriel. That does sound rude but I can’t help but comment.’
‘I heard all about Pericles escaping,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m glad you found him safe and sound.’
‘Well, actually, it was Sir Ronald who found him. He’d been digging for rabbits – Pericles, that is, not Sir Ronald.’ They both giggled at the prospect of Sir Ronald digging for rabbits.
Caroline took a sip of her sherry and a nibble of her biscuit, dusted the crumbs from her skirt and cleared her throat.
‘We’ve had an invitation from Jimbo and Harriet to Jimbo’s fortieth birthday party.’
‘So have I – isn’t it exciting? I’m going into Culworth tomorrow to buy a present for him, though I haven’t any idea what to get.’
‘I’ll give you a lift if you like. I always leave by eight-thirty – would that be convenient?’
‘Oh yes, it would, then I’ll come back on the bus.’
‘Muriel, I do hope you won’t take offence, but have you decided what to wear?’
‘That is a problem. I have nothing at all suitable, because I’ve never been to a smart dinner like this. One can’t wear a nice wool dress, one must be a little fancy.’
‘Look, I don’t see any point in you spending money on a dress you’ll not get a lot of wear out of. You and I are about the same height, so how about if I lend you one of mine? If I’ve given offence I’m sorry. It was just a suggestion.’
‘Not at all. Do you really mean that?’
‘Of course I do. Because we’re new here no one’s seen my
smart clothes so they will never know. Look, it’s dark outside so we wouldn’t be noticed – why not sneak across now and have a try on?’
‘What a splendid idea. Mr Harris won’t mind, will he?’
‘Of course not. He’ll be glad to be of help.’
It was embarrassing for Muriel to be undressing in Caroline and Peter’s bedroom. They’d not got round to decorating it yet, but on the old carpet Caroline had spread a huge off-white rug which felt luxuriously comfortable to Muriel’s stockinged feet. On a chair in the window was Peter’s running kit, and his trainers lay on the floor beneath. Caroline’s nightgown – a peach-coloured silk confection – lay on the bedspread beside Peter’s Paisley pyjamas. It felt almost indecent to see their night-clothes in such close proximity, as if she was peeking into their private life. Out of dear Mr Furbank’s huge old wardrobe came three delightful evening dresses.
‘This black one with the bead decoration on the bodice would look good on you, Muriel, don’t you think?’
‘It’s beautiful. The beadwork is quite splendid but for someone my age, I think the arms would be too bare, don’t you?’
‘Ah, but you see there is a long-sleeved jacket to wear over the top for dinner. It’s in the wardrobe somewhere – ah, here we are. Try it on.’
The beaded dress fitted Muriel exactly. If she’d been to a shop, this would have been the very one she would have bought. When Caroline fastened the tiny georgette bolero over the top she gasped at the change in herself.
‘Why, this is wonderful! Do you really mean that I can borrow it? I shall have to do something with my hair.’
‘When I’ve worn it before I’ve used this hair ornament to hold my hair back. Look, like this.’
‘I’m going to wear this cream thing, I think. Peter loves me in this.’
Muriel had changed back into her own clothes and stood looking at herself in the long mirror of dear Mr Furbank’s wardrobe. Given half a chance and the money, she might have made something of herself, but it was too late now. The two of them wrapped the dress and jacket in a carrier bag and went downstairs. Peter was on the phone. ‘Yes, certainly I’ll come round. Yes, straight away.’ He hung up and turned to Caroline.
‘Darling, that was Suzy Meadows. She wants me to go round. She didn’t go to her mother’s after all. Will you come with me? Sorry, Muriel, good evening. I’m forgetting my manners.’
‘I was going to have an early night, Peter.’
‘I’ll say good night to you both, and thank you, Caroline, for thinking of this. I’ll be here not one minute later than eight-thirty tomorrow.’ Muriel held the carrier bag up in thanks and swiftly made her way out of the Rectory and home past Willie Biggs’ cottage and St Thomas à Becket, and into her own Glebe Cottage. There she stood with her back to the door for a moment holding the bag up out of Pericles’ way as he jumped and pranced celebrating her return.
Upstairs she carefully took the dress out of the bag, and laid it on the bed. Her clothes were off in a jiffy and the dress back on again. She tried it first of all without the bolero. There was a small hint of her brassière strap showing white against the black. Dare she wear it without a brassière? Since no one could see her at the moment she tried it
without. Her size 34A brassière would not be missed, she thought. Who would know? No one but herself. Dare she? Why not! Lots of girls did nowadays, she’d noticed. The georgette bolero gave the finishing touch. She brushed her hair back and put the black velvet clasp in. She’d buy a little gift for Caroline tomorrow – some of those special Belgian chocolates from that expensive shop in Culworth. She would like that.
What Caroline
didn’t
like, was Peter wanting her to go to Suzy’s at this time of night.
‘You’ve never asked me to go visiting with you before, darling.’
‘We didn’t live in a little village like this before. I want you to be there, in case she needs a sedative or something.’
‘It’s not ethical for me to be dishing out drugs to other doctors’ patients, you know that. Anyway, I’ll come.’ She reached up and kissed him on his lips, pushing her tongue against his teeth, enticing him to kiss her properly. He put his arms round her and kissed her as though he wouldn’t be seeing her for a thousand years. His hands gently massaged her back and then slid down and pressed her body to his so that from toe to head she felt welded to him.
‘Never forget that whatever might happen, I love you more than life itself. My love is always there for the asking.’
‘Peter, I love you too, from now and for ever. I can’t imagine my life without you. Now come on, down to earth if you please.’ Laughingly Caroline pulled herself free and said, ‘We’re only going next door but one. Come on, she’ll be wondering where you are. We’ll finish this conversation in bed when we get back.’