If Dorothy had been hoping Mr Parsnip would be too distracted
by family matters to interfere in her organization of the talent contest, she
was rewarded in full, but she was nevertheless getting worried about it. Against
her better judgement she would have to appeal to him.
“What are you talking about, Dorothy?” asked the vicar who was
still getting over the shock of having the vicarage nearly burnt to a frazzle.
“The talent contest, Frederick. The talent contest!”
“Oh dear, I had quite forgotten, what with the fire and Karl
von Clip-on’s visit. How is it all going?”
“That’s the point. I don’t really know. Cleo has not been very
communicative lately. And anyway, we need a meeting to discuss the prelims.”
“Prelims?”
“The preliminary rounds, Frederick.”
“Well, you see to it, Dorothy. I’m still wrestling with the
house insurance and we are still getting our electricity from an emergency cable
stretched all across the vicarage lawn from the mains in the road.”
“But we must have the meeting this Sunday.”
“All right,” Mr Parsnip agreed reluctantly. “You tell Laura and Mr Hartley and I’ll tell Mr Morgan.”
Dorothy told Mr Parsnip to pull himself together. He was not
suffering any ill-effects from the fire and Edith had all the inconvenience of
the electric cable.
Her voice was still spinning round in his consciousness as he realized
that she was right. He was being selfish and had simply forgotten to care about
the talent contest. He decided to talk to Cleo Hartley first, as she had the
list of competitors, He felt very guilty that he had not even asked her to show
it to him yet.
But that wasn’t the only reason. To his total surprise, Cleo
had turned up at church the previous Sunday and what is more, she had sat next
to Robert, who had had a bad throat and couldn’t sing that day. Was there
something going on between them? He had asked Edith, but she had told him not
to imagine things, and Dorothy had said more or less the same thing. Well, more
or less. In fact, she had told him it was none of her business, or his, either.
Dorothy did not tell the vicar that she might have at least
encouraged any goings on between Cleo and Robert. Dorothy did not like to be
thought a busybody. After all, Robert had come to her for advice!
Over the phone, Cleo gave no hint to Dorothy that she was now romantically
involved with Robert. She merely told her that lots of people wanted to take
part in the talent contest and that she would be at the vicarage at four sharp.
She more or less repeated to the vicar what she had told
Dorothy, except that again she omitted to say that she and Robert were now an
item. She was surprised that he hadn’t noticed. Surely he would have asked her
if he had suspected something.
By mid-afternoon, Mr Parsnip had delivered a rousing sermon, eaten
a copious lunch and slept soundly for an hour, so he was in a good mood and
quite looking forward to the meeting. Mr Morgan came late, but dressed to the
nines, hoping to impress Clare or Edith or both.
Clare ignored him. It’s hard to say whether he noticed, so
busy was he preening himself and putting away several glasses of supermarket sherry.
Laura had already warned him in private about his drinking habits. He should
come to the rehearsals sober, she had told him, though that was the pot calling
the kettle black.
Edith, who saw that Mr Morgan was giving Clare surreptitious
glances, also disapproved of his excessive alcohol consumption. His organ
playing was currently out of bounds to her, just in case anyone put two and two
together about the donation box. In fact, desperate to regain or maintain her
impartiality, she had not even made Mr Morgan’s favourite cake. Cleo was late
and had an aura about her that Mr Parsnip had not noticed before. He felt bound
to ask her if she was feeling all right.
‘Oh sure, Mr Parsnip. You just don’t worry your head about me.
I’m fine, just fine.”
Edith was again charmed by the drawl. “Just fine, just fine!’
she muttered under her breath as she went to and fro between dining-room and
kitchen.
To Dorothy’s relief, the meeting cleared up all the remaining
talent contest hurdles. The prelims would be held in two weeks' time. Cleo
didn’t think there would be a problem getting everyone together if she gave
them a choice of Saturday or Sunday afternoon.
“Will anyone be exempt?” she wanted to know. Dorothy and Laura
perused the list and put a tick next to anyone they thought should go through
without a qualifying round, which included Robert, of course. Cleo smiled to
herself. After all, she knew how well Robert could sing. Her whole cottage
quivered and vibrated when he launched forth on his favourite aria, singing
with a voice as rich as Mephisto’s message was evil. Up to then she been more
familiar with film music, gospels and stage musicals, but thanks to Robert her
musical horizon was expanding rapidly.
Cleo wondered if you could sing Gounod at your own wedding,
but banished such thoughts to the back of her mind. It would take more than a
tacit understanding to make their wedding bells ring, as she knew only too well.
The only person Cleo took into her confidence was Dorothy, who was sworn to secrecy
about the dreams and hopes that Cleo Hartley was cherishing. Dorothy was kept
in the dark about what was really troubling Cleo.
Robert Jones had also sworn Dorothy to secrecy about his new
relationship. He wasn’t confident enough to broach the subject yet and there was
another problem he would have to deal with and could not possibly talk about
with an elderly female. Dorothy reassured him that Cleo was fond of him, but you
can’t hurry affairs of the heart. Robert was not sure that his modest prowess as
a lover would satisfy the woman he had set his heart on.
Since the old school hall was only available on the day of the
talent contest finals, the prelims were held at the church hall and in the
forecourt thereof, with the possibility of moving into the church for
high-flying acts such as acrobatics or juggling, should it rain.
Although there had been discussion at the meeting about
whether juggling with tennis balls is cleverer than hitting tunes on bottles or
producing ‘singing in the rain’ on a comb while someone pours water through the
rose of a watering can onto a baking tin, by the time the jury consisting of Dorothy,
Laura and Mr Parsnip had watched a trail of such potential disasters, they were
decidedly uneasy about the whole venture. They were well into the Saturday
afternoon prelims and so far no one had been any good.
Things got even more rock bottom when Mrs Garner, cake shop
owner and hyperactive senior citizen, turned up with other members of her geriatric
aerobic group dressed in bright orange leotards with the affirmed intention of
doing an act on low hung parallel bars. After that embarrassment, Mr Parsnip
announced a pause in the proceedings and invited the other jurors to accompany
him into the vestry.
“We can’t go on like this,” he agonized. “The whole idea is a
gigantic mistake and must be corrected forthwith.”
Laura agreed with him that the quality of entries left much to
be desired, but both she and Dorothy insisted that they must let everyone have
a go. The best people would be coming on the Sunday. After all, people had
shopping to do and sports events to attend on Saturdays. Laura nodded in
agreement. Even if her ladies from the choir had not turned out to have solo
potential, she was resourceful, as they would all find out.
“Whatever happens, we’ll put a nice programme together for the
finals and no one will feel bad about it because they’ll all get a certificate
to say they’ve taken part,” said Dorothy.
Mr Parsnip was not convinced. Laura hastened to reassure him.
“Wait till tomorrow. I’m sure the best is yet to come,” she
intimated while keeping her intentions firmly to herself. But her candidate
phoned to say he could not be there that day. Laura assured him that would not
have had to attend the prelims anyway. He promised not to let her down for the
finals, which meant that she had to tell Cleo not to pack the second half of
the show too full as there might be an impromptu addition, for whose high
standard she could vouch personally.
Cleo was glad to oblige. She was relieved that the talent
contest had not come to an untimely end. Robert was not a passionate lover, but
he was passionate about taking part in the talent show. He had a plan. He would
dedicate his aria to Cleo. Robert was far from certain that he had the right to
declare his intentions before he had dealt with the issue that had only
surfaced since he had clapped eyed on Cleo.
Cleo was in for quite a different surprise and she did not
have to wait much longer. At the end of the prelims on Sunday afternoon and
final consultations about the order of ceremony, she was able to get away at
last. She had left Robert happy as Larry occupying most of her sofa, wading
through a pile of Sunday papers to the sound of a crackling fire. That was his
idea of the good life, especially with the prospect of an evening in the
company of the woman he loved and maybe, if he was lucky, he would at last be
allowed to share her bed all night.
At about five in the afternoon, there was a loud knock on the
door. Robert hurried into the hall, checked that Cleo’s key was not hanging on
its hook, realized that his own key was in the lock, making it impossible for
Cleo to get the door open from the outside, and opened the door to be
confronted by a rather large person, not unlike Cleo, but several shades darker
skinned.
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed. “I thought Cleo Hartley lived here.”
“She does.”
“‘I’m Gloria. Cleo’s mom! And who are you?”
Gloria pushed past Robert and made her way into the
living-room. It was almost as she remembered it from nearly forty years ago.
Robert followed her, not sure how he should explain his
presence. He and Cleo were not officially an item though he felt that they
belonged together. They had only discussed the subject of sustainable personal
relationships hypothetically and in the third person up to now. Their
lovemaking had been brief and unsatisfactory. He had apologised and Cleo had
comforted him, saying that they were both out of practice. Robert would be diplomatic with this large
American lady.
“I’m Cleo’s...friend.”
“Lover?”
Robert was taken aback. Gloria was nothing if not direct. Robert
did not want to admit that his relationship with Cleo had been all but platonic,
because that would be difficult to explain, even if he had wanted to.
“Robert Jones, at your service!”
“What a cute name, Bobby.”
No one had ever called him cute or Bobby before.
“I was engaged to Cleo’s father for a very brief period, but
it was all a big mistake and I got out as fast as I could. I changed my name to
his in the States because of the child.”
Gloria told him the whole story, ending by telling him that Cleo
had never seen her father, but that he had sent money for her education and
left her this cottage.
“She was still at college when he died. She would never have
come here if her marriage hadn’t been on the rocks.”
Robert looked at Gloria in horror.
“Oh my, oh my, oh my!” Gloria said. “Shouldn’t I have told you
that?”
It was obvious that Robert Jones had not known. Come to think
of it, he had been so wrapped up in his new romance that he had not thought of
asking if there had been any other men in Cleo’s life and she had never
volunteered any information.
“I’m a widower,” he said. “My wife died in New Zealand.”
“What was she doing there?”
“Her father sent her there.”
Gloria thought the story was getting too complicated so she
did not pursue the matter further. Robert was an eligible bachelor. Just what
Cleo needed.
“Why, that’s the reason she left the States. A broken
marriage, Bobby. You should be happy about that.”
Cleo had left the USA in anger. The years she and her mother
had been estranged weighed heavily on Gloria’s mind. Her conscience was
anything but clear on the subject.
In Upper Grumpsfield, Cleo Hartley had always kept her past
life strictly to herself. Her marriage to a thug and a fraud and the endless divorce
proceedings were her business and no one else’s.
Robert was devastated. Cleo had been leading him up the garden
path. What if she was planning to return to her husband, or bring him over to
Upper Grumpsfield? What if......? And anyway, he wasn’t going to get mixed up
with a married woman. That would be totally unethical.
“I have to leave now,” he told Gloria, trying not to lose his
composure. “Cleo is much later than she said she would be. I’ve got my accounts
to do and tomorrow is wholesaler day.”
Robert dropped his door-key onto the dining table.
“I’ll leave this with you. I won’t need it again.”
Before Gloria could protest, Robert let himself out and made
his way sadly down the road. He was shattered, mainly because Cleo had
obviously not trusted him enough to tell him the really important things about
herself. He left out of his thoughts the fact that he had not told her about
his own short marriage. He did not know what he could say to her. Maybe he
should simply avoid her in future, but that was going to be difficult with the talent
contest looming up. He would have to back out.
An hour later, Cleopatra Hartley let herself into her cottage.
Her shock at finding her mother there instead of Robert Jones was enormous.
“Mother! What are you doing here? Where’s Robert?”
“That’s not much of a welcome after all this time.”
“Did you expect me to fling my arms around you?”
“Well, no. But I thought it was time to bury the hatchet after
...”
“After what? Interfering with my life? Taking sides with the
man I left, although he was a gambler and a drinker and a wife-beater?”
“I meant well, Cleo.”
“Don’t tell me that. You were interfering. It has taken me
until now to recover from the nightmare I went through.”
“It needn’t have.”
“You encouraged him to pester me for years to let bye-gones be
bye-gones. You never understood anything. Why do you think I left the States?”
“But now you’ve met a nice man. I’m sure he isn’t a
wife-beater.”
“Where is he? What did you say to him, Mother?”
“To Bobby?”
Cleo was aghast to hear her mother calling Robert by a nickname.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all. He just had to leave.”
Gloria had known from the look on Robert’s face that she had
put the cat among the pigeons, but Cleo did not believe her mother could really
have done very much damage in the few minutes they would have been in each
other’s company. She could not have been more wrong.
“I suppose you want to stay the night.”
“Well, it’s too late to go anywhere else.”
Gloria now sounded so dejected that Cleo felt sorry for her outburst.
She still had a soft spot for her mother despite all that had happened. After
all, Gloria had come half way across the world to see her.
“Would you like something to eat? We... That is I usually have
supper around now.”
Gloria was relieved at even this tiny show of hospitality from
her daughter. She knew she had behaved badly in the past. It was time to admit
that she had been wrong about Cleo’s ex.
Cleo phoned Clare to ask her to take charge at the library
next day. She would devote the whole day to her mother, not least, to try and
arrange somewhere else for her to stay. Life together under one roof would be
intolerable. She would lay the table for three, hoping that Robert would be
back later.
“Jay went to prison again,” Gloria announced without any
preamble.
“So what! Do you expect
me to cry, Mother?”
“In the end no one else did, either.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I heard he had died there,” said Gloria.
“Then the nightmare is over at last, isn’t it? I have a new life
here.”
Cleo got busy in the kitchen. Gloria laid the table with the
old family china she had found in the same built-in china cupboard where it had
lived over forty years ago. Cleo served a nice spread of cold meats, homemade
bread and fruit, with steaming coffee to wash it all down.
Robert Jones did not go back to the cottage. He poured over
his shop accounts for hours with the radio rattling on in the background and
eventually got some to sleep until his alarm clock woke him at 4 a.m. Monday
mornings started before dawn. He would stock up at the wholesalers and get on
with his life, regardless of his emotional devastation.
Cleo spent a restless night and decided to call in on Robert
while Gloria got over her jet lag. She had to know what had happened between
them.
Robert greeted her with a brief nod. Her heart sank.
“You met my mother last night.”
“I did.”
Robert seemed to be in a frozen state. His face was pale and
he was plucking nervously at the plastic decorations in the meat display.
“Well, what did you think of her?”
Robert looked past Cleo and said nothing.
“I agree. She’s a bit much, but I think she wants us to be
friends and seeing as we....I mean you and me...”
“What about you and me? What about him, Cleo?”
“I don’t know who you mean, Robert.”
“I mean the man you are
married to, Cleo.”
So Gloria had told him. Trust her not to waste time before
interfering. But Gloria had not told Robert that Jay was dead. Anger welled up inside Cleo. With anger came
tears that spilled down her cheeks as she stood there silent and humiliated.
Before she could explain, Robert poured out his whole misery.
“I thought we trusted each other, but you didn’t trust me
enough to tell me. I had to wait for your mother to come here. Shame on you, Cleo,
for misusing me. And I thought ...”
Without finishing his sentence, Robert picked up a large
carving knife and sharpened it with loud, scraping noises on the whetting steel
before attacking a saddle of lamb.
“I’m so sorry. All I wanted to do was forget all about it. He’s
dead now, but that part of my life had ended long before I came here, Robert.
You must believe that!”
“You want me to believe that? All right, I believe it. Now go
away and leave me alone.”
“But...”
“It’s all over, Cleo. Over and done with.”
Robert turned away in utter misery and went to the back of the
shop, leaving Cleo standing there crying. Presently Dorothy entered the shop, greeted
Cleo cheerfully and remarked how nice the morning was. Cleo turned her face
away to hide the tears. Robert heard Dorothy’s voice and reappeared to serve
her, but without his usual cheery greeting.
The tension did not escape Dorothy’s notice.
“Nice day, Robert.”
Robert managed to squeeze out a muffled “Good morning, Miss
Price.”
“Aren’t you feeling well, Robert?”
“Never felt better. What did you say you wanted?”
His voice was flat and tuneless.
“Enough topside for a small casserole, Robert, if that’s not
too much trouble.”
Dorothy didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. She was genuinely
concerned.
Robert took a nice piece of rump steak from the tray and
chopped it into mouth-sized pieces, then weighed it far too generously and
wrapped it up. He always gave Dorothy the best cuts whatever she ordered Today,
the first day of his reinstated bachelorhood, would be no exception. Whilst he
was dealing with Dorothy’s order, Cleo sidled wordlessly out of the shop. That
did not escape Dorothy’s notice either, but Robert seemed to be preoccupied
with serving her.
He did not look up.
“Anything else, Miss Price?”
“I’m Dorothy. Remember? Three rashers of bacon and some of your
nice chipolatas, please.”
“The chipolatas aren’t homemade.”
“That’s all right.”
Robert attended morosely to the order.
Dorothy felt she had to say something.
“How is Cleo? She left in a hurry without saying goodbye. Did
I interrupt something?”
Robert shrugged his shoulders and kept his head down.
“Her mother’s here and she told me that Cleo is already
married, didn’t she? And Cleo couldn’t deny that she’d been hiding that from
me, could she? So that’s that, isn’t it?”
Dorothy was shocked. This wasn’t an outburst of Welsh
melodrama. This was a human tragedy. How could things have changed so
drastically overnight? Surely Robert was mistaken.
“I don’t think Cleo is into subterfuge, Robert. Maybe she’s a
widow. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”
Robert finally looked at Dorothy and she was distressed to see
the tracks of tears on his cheeks. He was deeply hurt.
“There’s nothing you can do, Dorothy. But thank you, all the
same. I’m just glad I found out before I...”
“Before you popped the question, Robert?”
Dorothy was now nosy-parkering, but Robert was too upset to
notice. She paid for her order, wished him a good day and hoped he would solve his
dilemma. Her day was spoilt, of that she was sure.
All the way to the baker’s, then to the post office, and then
all the way home, Dorothy conjectured that budding romance. Surely Cleo hadn’t
left a family in the States to come and live in a neglected cottage in Upper
Grumpsfield and tell lies about her past to all and sundry. There was sure to
be a sound explanation. Dorothy’s main concern was for Robert, who had been so
cheerful and optimistic ever since he and Cleo had got to know each other. His artificial
jollity in his shop had been replaced by a genuine joie de vivre. Although she
knew that the Welsh were prone to extremes of moods, this new situation was
much more serious. She resolved to consult Mr Parsnip about it.
***
Dorothy was at home just long enough to put the shopping away
before she set off for the vicarage. This was not something you could discuss
on the phone. She had helped Mr Parsnip so often that she was sure he would
help her now. After all, she had more or less played cupid and brought Cleo and
Robert together.
Cleo had returned to her cottage in a state of shock and
anger. How could her mother have done so much damage in such a short time? Gloria
was shocked to see her daughter looking so washed out.
“Why did you have to come here? You have ruined my life all
over again!”
“I don’t understand.”
“You told Robert that I was married.”
“I would have thought he knew, if you were close enough for
him to sit on your sofa in your absence, Cleo. Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because I didn’t want to spoil things.”
“Well, I think it’s just as well he knows. And after all, you
are a widow now, aren’t you?”
“But I did not know that.”
“So were you going to commit bigamy?”
“Of course not. We aren’t, I mean weren’t even engaged. I
filed for divorce ages ago and would have been free in a month or two. How was
I to know that the delay was due to Jay’s death? You should have kept me
informed, mother. I could have saved myself some steep lawyer’s fees.”
“You told me not to mention his name ever again. And anyway, Jay
died only last month, Cleo. I don’t expect you to be sad, but you could show a
little respect.”
“Why should I? Did he show me any? I would have told Robert
after the divorce had gone through.”
“That sounds like a stupid idea.”
“But it’s all the same now, anyhow. He told me we’re all
washed up and I know he meant it.”
“I can’t believe that. Men have their pride, Cleo. I’ll
straighten things out for you.”
“Don’t you dare, mother. I know all about your straightening
out methods. I’m going to take a long bath and after that we can talk about
something more interesting than Robert or Jay or anything connected with either
of them.”
But Gloria was in no mood for making idle conversation,
especially with a daughter who was so plainly distraught. While Cleo was soaking
in her perfumed bathwater and trying to forget the humiliation she felt, Gloria
slipped out of the house and made her way into the village. Robert was going to
get a piece of her mind. Conscious of the havoc she had caused in her
daughter’s past life, she was determined to get Cleo’s present one back on an
even keel.
Robert was just closing for lunch when Gloria marched in.
“I’d like a word with you, Bobby.”
“I think you’ve said enough already, but thanks for putting me
in the picture.”
“You don’t have all the facts. I’m really sorry that I said what
I did. If I’d known…”
“Well, I’m not. Cleo fooled me into thinking that
she......well liked me.”
“Cleo loves you, Bobby, and she’s going through hell right
now.”
“So am I. I’ve never been so disappointed in anyone in my
whole life.”
“But why? Surely you didn’t think a woman of thirty-eight
would have no past?”
“No, but she should have told me she was married.”
“She left the States to escape from a man who beat her when
she was with him and stalked her when she wasn’t. It took her years to get away
from him and I am partly responsible for that because I didn’t believe her.”
“And now you do?”
“Cleo did not know that the man to whom she had been unhappily
married died a month ago in a prison brawl. She’s rid of him now and would have
been divorced in a couple of months, anyway. Can’t you see how difficult it
must have been for her all this time?”
“But she should have told me.”
“OK, I agree on that. I expect you’ve told her everything
about your life, especially the bad things.”
“No I haven’t. There are things she does not need to know.”
“So there you are. Are the rules different for you?”
Robert was now in a state of turmoil. He had humiliated Cleo
and was incapable of seeing beyond the moment he had told her he was finished
with her. Gloria could see that her words were being churned over and decided
to leave him to think about what to do next. It wasn’t for her to patch things
up between them, but now at least he knew the whole truth.
“I hope you will find a way to repair the damage, Robert. The
ball is in your court now.”
With those words Gloria left the shop and went for a walk
across the common to clear her head.
Gloria’s words were still stinging like wasps in Robert’s ears
several hours later. He had gone through the motions of shop keeping with the
accompanying pleasantries to customers and due care and attention to their
orders, but all the time he was running through what he could say to the woman
he loved and had so rudely spurned. He would have passed for a nineteenth
century romantic hero.
Gloria didn’t go back to the cottage till late. After
completing her mission at the shop and marching across the common, on impulse she
had caught a bus to Middlethumpton, where she wandered round the shops all
afternoon.
Robert knew that the longer he waited, the harder it would get
to patch things up. After shutting his shop for the day and finding things to
do for at least another hour, he finally made his way to the Hartley cottage
and rang the doorbell.
It was some minutes before anyone came to the door. He was
just about to give up when he heard footsteps on the stone floor. Cleo peered
around the door. She had had to overcome extreme reluctance to open it. She did
not think she would be able to cope with seeing Robert after he had humiliated
her so deeply.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said with feigned indifference. “What do
you want?”
She turned to go back in.
“Wait a minute! I’ve come to say sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got it all wrong.”
“No. You got it all right, Robert. I was married in the USA
and I should have told you.”
“I have no right to expect you to tell me anything you don’t
want to, Cleo.”
“Right again, Robert. I did not want to tell you and I was
right, wasn’t I? You could not take the information at face value and trust me,
could you? Now if you’ll excuse me....”
Robert watched her go back into the cottage. He stood
motionless outside the closed door and Cleo stood motionless on the inside.
After a few minutes she opened the door again.
“But if you want to discuss the situation, you’d better come
in.”
She had said this against her better judgment, but on the
other hand, she had to go on living in the village. Better to straighten things
out now, then they could go their separate ways without animosity. She did not
want to ruin Robert’s chances of winning the talent contest. No one had a hope
in hell of beating him, if the prelims were anything to go by, but in his
present state he wouldn’t be able to get a note out.
On his part, Robert felt a tiny surge of hope. He followed Cleo
into her living-room and perched on the edge of one of the dining chairs like a
naughty schoolboy. He took a small leather box out of his pocket and placed it
on the table.
Cleo knew a ring box when she saw one. It suddenly dawned on
her how devastating the situation must be for Robert. He had only done what any
self-respecting guy would have done, after all, and now he was sincerely trying
to repair the damage.
“You won’t want this now, but I’ve no one else to give it to,”
he said tonelessly.
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said yes.”
“You would?”
“I would.”
Robert’s heart leapt.
Cleo’s mouth twitched. Robert was having trouble expressing
himself. Lover’s block, she thought. She would have to say something drastic.
“Are you planning to ask me, or shall we sing Auld Lang’s
Syne?”
“Would you want me after my disgraceful behaviour?”
“Would you want me after all my secrecy?”
They looked long and hard at each other and a simultaneous ’yes’
came over their lips.
Robert opened the ring box he had been carrying around for
weeks like a talisman and solemnly offered Cleo the engagement ring, a wide
golden band set with the garnets he knew she liked.
Tears rolled down their cheeks. Fortunately, this time they
were tears of joy! Robert folded his arms round Cleo. She responded with an
embrace such as he had never experienced with her before.
This romantic scene might have gone on for quite some time had
there not been some ferocious doorbell ringing. Cleo extricated herself and
hastened to see who it was.
The anxious faces of Dorothy and the vicar came into view.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Dorothy,” said Cleo.
“Well, this morning I could see you had a problem and we’re
here to help you get over it, Cleo.”
The vicar nodded wisely. He had been nervous about interfering,
but seeing as Dorothy was managing the situation well, he would support her.
Cleo could barely disguise her emotions. These good people
were genuinely concerned.
“That’s real kind of you. Come in!”
“We tried to call on Robert, but he wasn’t at home,” the vicar
added. He had felt that interference was not a good idea, but Dorothy had
pointed out that the whole talent contest was at risk if they didn’t do
something about the well-being of one of the best contestants.
The Good Samaritans made their way into the living-room, where
Robert was standing looking rather sheepish. He jumped to attention at the
sight of the vicar, who stopped in his tracks and muttered something that
sounded like a prayer.
“The problem’s solved, Dorothy. You can be the first to
congratulate us.”
This was such a turn-up for the books that it rendered Dorothy
momentarily speechless. Not so the vicar, who privately thought Dorothy had
been making a mountain out of a molehill.
“My dear chap – and dear lady – I am delighted.”
“So am I. So are we.”
“It’s wonderful to see harmony restored,” the vicar mused,
thinking that his next sermon could be written in exactly that vein. Life’s
happy endings deserved to be celebrated from the pulpit.
Gloria returned from her therapeutic shopping spree to find,
not a sullen, miserable daughter, but a happy crowd exchanging felicitations
and drinking champagne. The garnet ring
sparkled on Cleo’s ring finger.
If anyone had tried to predict that turn of events twelve
hours previously, Gloria would have declared them nuts.
