tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84069209925425151182024-02-08T06:44:11.359-08:00Friends for LifeThis is the first novel in the Upper Grumpsfield series!faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-5745633271296206422016-02-07T05:12:00.003-08:002017-01-25T10:23:02.960-08:0035 - The end is the beginning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The fire chief took a close look at the tower on Sunday
afternoon. Nothing had changed since his team had left in the early hours. The
collapse was presumably completed. On Monday morning he took care to be present
when the surveyor arrived. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>If appearances had anything to do with it, Mr Braine was
probably the most unlikely surveyor in the whole of England. He was a rather flamboyant
dresser, complete with fob watch, signet-ringed fingers, waxed moustache,
maroon velvet jacket, a petulant pout and a very camp assistant whom he
addressed as Boris. They were genuinely appalled at what they saw and threw their
arms up in the air in despair. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quel horreur!” Mr Braine exclaimed several times before
turning to Boris, whose decorative tattoos were exposed thanks to a sleeveless
vest. Mr Braine was no more French than his acolyte was Russian.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Boris, go inside and take some photos,” Mr Braine commanded,
since those taken by the fire brigade were not suitable for the job of
assessing what it would take to restore the bell tower.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Mr Braine,” Boris retorted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Braine turned on him with a rather fierce look on his
face that no one would have guessed he was capable of, considering that he
normally presented himself as jovial comrade. He dragged a manicured hand
through his hair, whose careful arrangement to compensate for any bald spots
was immediately and unprettily disturbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Boris admired Mr Braine, but he wasn’t stupid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t go inside, Mr Braine,” he said. “I haven’t got a
hard hat.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t be silly, Boris. Everything that was going to fall
down has already fallen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if it hasn’t?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Braine was saved from answering that perfectly relevant question
by the arrival of a team of municipal building workers in a city construction truck.
They were equipped with safety helmets and had brought along some spare ones
that they instructed Mr Parsnip, Mr Braine and Boris to put on. After Mr Braine
had inspected how he looked in his reflection in the truck window, he sniffed
audibly at the offensive headgear, but nevertheless followed the fire chief very
cautiously to the bell tower entrance. The fire brigade had done a good job.
They had cleared away enough rubble to allow the group to get to the door that
had fortunately been left open and adorned with a red and white ribbon to
indicate that it was a no-go area. Mr Braine bypassed the ribbon and inspected
the damage inside the tower and Boris made notes and took photos. Mr Parsnip
looked on anxiously,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can I have some prints?” the vicar could however not resist
asking, as if they were on a day out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Tuesday the entertainment committee turn to accompany Mr
Braine and were told what had to be done. Everyone attended except Laura Price.
She was still too devastated about the fate of her concert to want to bother
with the cause thereof. Mr Braine had brought along a second architect, a
lugubrious soul he called Monk who shook his head in a constant no-no-no
attitude. It was his job to approve of Mr Braine’s ideas. Eventually, they agreed
on basics. Mr Braine did not think any funds would be forthcoming from the town
hall, so his job would be finished once his report had been compiled. However, Mr
Braine also worked on the side for anyone who would pay him directly and wanted
very much to rebuild the tower and enhance his reputation with the outcome. He
suggested phoning the bishop and getting him involved. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip was still trying to formulate what he was going to
say to the bishop, when that good and kindly man rang him instead to say a
little bird had told him about the tragedy. He was, to the vicar’s acute
embarrassment, very compassionate and did not even ask why he hadn’t been told
immediately. He would come to lunch next day to discuss the situation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The entertainment committee was hastily summoned to have
lunch with the bishop, mainly because Mr Parsnip could not conceive how he
would get through the appointment without moral support. Edith made giant
hotpots, one of which was meant for the boys after school, but the luncheon
guests ate it all and devoured the apple crumble to the last crumb. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith was extremely flattered by the unanimous praise
awarded to her cooking. She made them all feel guilty, however, by announcing
that they had eaten the boys’ supper. The boys would have to make do with
pizzas from Delilah’s bistro - as if they would mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually, since it looked as if the reason for the bishop
being there was being put on the back burner, Dorothy Price told Mr Parsnip to
get to the point. The vicar looked pleadingly at the bishop and the bishop
agreed that it was time to “come clean” financially. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘We’ve only got the roof fund and the organ fund,” explained
Mr Parsnip, “and those repairs are essential. But if we don’t do something
about getting the tower repaired before the winter, the rain will get in there,
too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
St Peter’s itself had a longer history than the bell tower,
which was an architectural afterthought. Originally the church had only had one
small bell above its main entrance. The bell tower had been constructed
separately and financed by donations from local dignitaries in return for
commemorative plaques celebrating their lifelong achievements. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bishop had read all the internal historical notes about the
tower and come across the list of donors, which was headed by a family named
Hartley. The Hartleys did not have a plaque in the bell tower because they had
in the end only contributed a little to its building and anyway, there was no
wall left to nail them onto, figuratively speaking. According to the records,
the Hartley family was extinct. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As it happened, Cleo arrived at the vicarage just then and
heard that about the extinction of the Hartleys. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I beg to differ, dear bishop," she said. "I am a
Hartley and I am certainly not extinct.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bishop was rather put out at this turn of events because
no living Hartleys were registered with the church, but Cleo assured him that
she was genuine, even though dark-skinned, born on the wrong side of the
blanket and not a member of any church at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What came next was beyond the imagination of anyone sitting
at that dining table. The secret she had actually planned to keep for much
longer came tumbling out. Being the last living Hartley, she had inherited everything
from her father, the late John Hartley, which was the reason for coming to
Upper Grumpsfield in the first place. But her father had apparently not known
the extent of his own estate. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo told the fantastic story in a few words. Not long ago, she
had discovered that Monkton Priory and the lands surrounding it were also part
of her father’s legacy, though he had not known, either. Up to now she had had
no idea what to do with such a big responsibility so soon after that awful bishop
had nearly managed to dispose of St Peter’s. She had decided not to tell anyone
about her ownership, but now it seemed unavoidable. Someone would have to help finance
the rebuilding of the bell tower, and what would be more logical than asking a
relative of one of the original contributors? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only problem was the cash flow, which was non-existent.
She would consult the town clerk and surveyor about selling some of the land on
the edge of the estate and donate the proceeds to rebuilding the bell tower. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were gasps of disbelief all round, generous applause,
and enthusiastic nods from the architect, mainly because he reckoned he would
also get first refusal for any building projects. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you quite sure you want to do that?” the vicar ventured
humbly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I am! I love Upper Grumpsfield,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bishop rose from the table and assured everyone present
that he would personally see to it that all the mechanisms for rebuilding were
put into place – on condition that there would be another delicious hotpot
waiting for him when he next visited St Peter’s. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the meeting was over and the bishop had departed, Mr
Parsnip went to his study and said a prayer, kneeling on the embroidered
cushion kept expressly for the purpose and seldom used. Then he settled in for
a prolonged pencil-sharpening session. An anonymous donor had given him a box
of 48 brand new graphite pencils that didn’t even have a starting point. After
that he would apply himself to a sermon on the theme of generosity. He might
even mention the soul, though lately he had had difficulty in defining what
that could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It's a case of one door closing and another opening,” he told
Edith later that day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would that include me?” she asked him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why would you want to open a door?” the vicar wanted to
know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*** <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of Laura Finch's major problems was self-centredness. Another
of her problems was self-pity and a third one was envy. She could not help
noticing that Mr Parsnip was extremely thankful to Cleo for her offer to help
rebuild the bell tower. Laura couldn't have cared less about the bell tower,
but she had enjoyed the vicar's attention and even admiration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though her days as a femme fatale were gone, she went to a
lot of trouble with her appearance and now a frumpy half-cast was getting that
special smile she had enjoyed, just because she had inherited the Priory,
probably thanks to some kind of corruption in the Hartley family. Laura was
despondent. Was the humiliation never to end?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back in her bungalow, which was still in a state of chaos,
she opened a packing case containing bottles of hard liquor she got delivered
from an off-licence in Middlethumpton, took out a couple of bottles of vodka,
found a glass, and proceeded to drown her sorrows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Between large gulps of straight vodka, Laura tried to accept
that all the rumours put about by her enemies, both real and imagined, were
true. Not only had her chorus ditched her, but those deceitful and treacherous women
had persuaded the unappetizing little organist Gareth Morgan to start a new
venture here in Upper Grumpsfield after they had all claimed mendaciously that
Upper Grumpsfield was too far to travel to Laura’s rehearsals. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura tortured herself with the knowledge that no one cared,
forgetting that she had not cared about her anything else but herself. The she
remembered some sedatives she had once been given for anxiety, rummaged around
until she found them, then swallowed the lot before getting into bed and crying
herself into a deep sleep, which elsewhere would have been classed as a coma. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although Dorothy Price had vowed to avoid contact with Laura
Finch after being so disgusted by the way she had treated her son, she
nevertheless felt responsible for her. After two days during which Laura did
not phone, even to bemoan her cruel fate, Dorothy decided she would have to
make sure everything was all right. She consulted Cleo and Robert, who had
become great friends of hers lately, not least since Cleo had enrolled Dorothy
to help her with her investigations. Cleo thought it would be better if
somebody went with her to visit Laura if she was worried about her. All three
of them walked up Lavender Drive and all round Laura Finch's bungalow without
finding any sign of life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She might be ill. Do you think you could break in, Robert?
I've got a very funny feeling.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy was so earnest that he agreed to try. But the back
door was not even locked. They tiptoed through the kitchen into the hall,
calling Laura's name. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Her handbag is on the hall table, so she can't have gone
out. We'll have to search all the rooms,” said Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They found Laura straight away. She was lying on her bed
clutching a photo of Jason and in a comatose state.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The emergency services came immediately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She has drugged herself,” said one of the paramedics as he
opened his medical bag and prepared to check Laura Finch's blood pressure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There's an empty vodka bottle on this side of the bed,” he
said, picking it up and throwing it onto the counterpane. “And she's taken diazepam.
Strong stuff: 5 mg per tablet. I don't know how many she has taken, of course,
but this bottle is empty, so we can only hope there weren't many left in it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh dear,” said Dorothy. “What a foolish thing to do,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can say that again, Miss,” the paramedic agreed. His
colleague came in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hospital?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. On the double. Let's hope we aren't too late. Her
blood pressure is very low, her heartbeat is weak and I can't rouse her. No
reaction at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How long do you think she has been like that?” Dorothy
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Overnight, I’d say,” replied the paramedic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn't take long for the two paramedics to load Laura onto
a stretcher and into the ambulance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anyone going with her?” one of them said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. I will,” Dorothy offered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We'll both go,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We'll all go,” said Robert. “I'll follow in the van.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As hospitals go, Middlethumpton General was quite pleasant,
but hours sitting around waiting for news are tedious anywhere. The magazines
were months out of date, the coffee machine was out of order and there was an
eerie silence everywhere. There was no way of knowing what was happening to
Laura Finch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don't worry about her. She's a tough old boot,” said
Robert, in an effort to cheer them all up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn't know she drank that heavily,” said Dorothy. “I
know she has a drink problem. Once she even did a spell at a sanatorium up
north.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Surely she didn't tell you that,” said Cleo. “She was
usually very secretive about her activities.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, it slipped out,” said Dorothy. “I think it was guilt
because she'd started sipping wine again. She had been there to dry out, I understood
her to say.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Alcoholics dare not even sip any alcohol if they want to
stay clean,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, she's done more than sip now,” said Robert. “And
it’ll take quite a long time for her to dry out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If she survives,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She had a weight on her mind,” said Dorothy. “Her awful
chorus had ganged up against her and roped Mr Morgan into their scheme.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Little skunk. I'll give him a piece of my mind,” said
Robert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It wouldn't help,” said Dorothy. “In the state she's in
now, she couldn't direct a chorus to save her life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She'll survive,” said Robert. “They always do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What on earth do you mean by that, Robert?” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert did not have time to reply. There was a flurry at the
information desk and who should rush past but Karl von Klippen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey, what's the hurry?” Robert called after him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It's zee babies,”' Karl shouted over his shoulder. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where's Clare?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there was no answer. Karl von Klippen had sped out of
sight through the swing doors leading to the gynaecological ward.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let's go and see what we can see,” said Dorothy, thankful
for the distraction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better ask about Laura first,” said Cleo and went to
the information desk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No visitors,” she was told. “Go home. She'll be out of the
coma by now. She'll survive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How do you know that if you haven't even asked anyone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Because these old tipplers have nine lives,” retorted the woman
behind the counter and took no further notice of Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, what about Mrs von Klippen?' Cleo asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What's she got?” the woman wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Babies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I'll ask.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time the woman dialled a ward number and inquired about
a Mrs Slip-on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Klippen,” Cleo repeated, knowing exactly how Karl must feel
every time his name was distorted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Only two,” the woman told her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you mean, only two?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“'Twins. No visitors yet, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that seemed to be that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo returned to Dorothy and Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“'Laura is going to survive, apparently, and Clare has just
had twins. No visitors, the woman said.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No point in hanging around here then,” said Robert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dorothy, I'm sure you'd like to eat with us, wouldn't you?”
Cleo said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That would be nice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let's go home then,” proposed Robert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So they did. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-77562261963700179132016-02-07T01:34:00.003-08:002017-01-25T09:46:01.111-08:0034 - Laura's plight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meetings at the vicarage had a tendency the bring out the
worst in anyone who had an axe to grind, so it was with some trepidation that
Edith laid out an appetizing selection of homemade cookies and cakes on the
sideboard and instructed the five boys not to be a nuisance on pain of death. As
usual, the vicar had stuffed himself at lunch and had to take an afternoon nap
for it all to sink a bit. He was sorry he had allowed a meeting to take place.
His digestion was uncomfortable. He would rather lie down and forget the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Gareth Morgan arrived first, as usual, strangely taciturn
and asking for a glass of water for the first time in living memory. Shortly
after four everyone was assembled around the dining table and as a way of
opening the proceedings Mr Parsnip pointed out that there was sure to be lots
to discuss, and would Dorothy like to say what was on her mind first? <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Obliged to take the initiative while Mr Parsnip tried to get
his dyspepsia under control with cups of hot water sipped slowly, Dorothy announced
that the coming months were devoid of any events and that would have to be
rectified. It was Laura’s Spring Serenade that was bothering her most. Why had Laura
been so reticent about actually doing the concert after such enthusiasm earlier
on? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All eyes were now on Laura Finch who was attending after the
vicar had pleaded with her to come.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, what about the concert?” added Robert, who had been
admitted to the meeting for the first time as an official delegate and was
standing in for Cleo, who was nursing a nasty cold. With Clare absent and about
to give birth and Karl dithering about whether he should call the midwife or
pack their suitcases, there was no one much left to organize anything. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There have been a few hitches,” Laura was forced to admit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hitches?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We had a bit of a rebellion. Some of the ladies accused me
of being high-handed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Half of them left,” continued Mr Morgan, who was stone
sober, so could not be accused of having lost control of his tongue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I just wanted them to smile a bit more and do a little
choreography.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You should have seen their faces,” Mr Morgan said with an
undue amount of triumph in his voice. “Phillis – that’s my new girlfriend –
well she sings soprano and she was really upset about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy stopped looking at Laura Finch and turned her gaze
on Edith, who was listened wide-eyed to Mr Morgan. So he had finally found a girlfriend.
Was that the reason for the sudden sobriety? Had he turned over a new leaf? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Phillis put the other ladies up to it,” said Laura, giving
Gareth Morgan accusing looks. ”Before the evening was over half of them had
left.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I persuaded them to come back, didn’t I?” said Gareth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was Mr Morgan going to be the hero of the day, the saviour in
a sticky situation? It looked like it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think you persuaded them, Gareth. I think they
realized that I was only acting in their best interests, so now we can go ahead
with the concert after all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura would have preferred chorus politics not to have been
aired in public, let alone at a meeting in Upper Grumpsfield. Things had gone
badly wrong ever since she had been revealed as a neglectful mother. Jason
Finch had shown her up for what she was and that had not been a pretty sight.
Patching up her reputation had proved difficult despite Jason’s show of
forgiveness. After a period of lying low, she was now anxious to reinstate
herself in the superior position she claimed as hers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So have you got a date in mind, Laura?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Two weeks from now would be perfect,” purred Laura Finch in
the vicar’s direction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So soon?” Dorothy said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Will that be inconvenient, Vicar?’ said Laura in velvety
tones<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy replied, her main motive being to get the concert
over with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘That will be fine, Laura. Won’t it, Frederick?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip nodded. He was not going to get mixed up in any
discussions with those two ladies. Let them sort it out by themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This Miss Phillis,” said Edith, turning to Mr Morgan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Phillis Cartwright.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan was acutely aware that all eyes were on him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s only platonic,” he felt bound to say. “Phillis is a
nice girl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good boy, Gareth,” remarked Robert Jones. “Time you had
someone to warm your bed.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was a remark he would not have made if Cleo been there.
A platonic relationship was not an uncommon claim in the Welsh valleys, but in
Robert Jones’s opinion, that claim was usually miles off the truth, as the
widespread phenomenon of 6 month pregnancies followed by the premature birth of
8lb infants confirmed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With perfect timing, Cleo Hartley rang the doorbell.
Curiosity had got the better of her. It didn’t take her long to realize that Mr
Morgan was going through some kind of trauma. She put her box of Kleenex on the
table in front of her and accepted a glass of lemonade from Edith, who was
heartily glad to see her and didn’t care how many bugs she brought into the
house. With five boys to rear you were used to coping with bugs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan’s confession had done little to quench the
curiosity of at least one person at the table. Edith, who had been the subject
of his admiration for so long, had a sinking feeling about this new situation.
Was Mr Morgan in love with Phillis? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Phillis Cartwright is not a nice girl,” Laura told him. “She
has a passable singing voice, but she’d go after anything in trousers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since that kind of talk was plainly out of place at a vicarage
committee meeting, Dorothy felt bound to change the subject and move things
along. Mr Morgan was offended. Laura was not willing to move on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Open your eyes, Gareth! All that rubbish about alcohol being
devil’s brew is a load of baloney. It’s part of her tactics. She fancies your
nice flat and once she’s got what she wants, she’ll throw you out. I’ve seen it
all before. You’d better disentangle yourself before it’s too late.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though it was not clear how someone called Phillis could
persuade someone with a drinking history like Gareth Morgan’s to become teetotal,
the fact was that she had already done it, and he seemed none the worse for
wear. Mr Parsnip’s offer of a nice long sherry had been spurned and even
Edith’s rum flavoured muffins were not going down as well as usual. Was Phillis
really only plotting to take over his flat?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan was red-faced and angry. His fists were clenched
and before he could stop himself he was saying “I think you’d better find
another accompanist, Mrs Finch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t take it personally, Gareth. If your mother were here,
she’d say what I’m saying.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch’s mention of his mother was all Gareth needed. But
he needed the small payment he received for accompanying the chorus so he had
better be more careful about threatening to resign in future or he might really
lose the job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before the row could escalate, Robert intervened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I decide who can have my old flat, Laura. Gareth boy,
you’re safe with me. Just don’t listen to anyone. If you love Phillis, you just
get on with it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t take over.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan looked thankfully at Robert Jones. Cleo looked at
him in astonishment. Was he hiding something?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was. That self-same Phillis Cartwright had applied for
the job of part-time butcher’s assistant and was on the shortlist for
interviews the following week. Robert was sure Gareth Morgan did not know. He
had not known about Mr Morgan’s claim that she was his girlfriend. Now Robert was
in the picture, was he going to prevent her working for him if she proved to be
the right one for the job? Whichever way he decided, he would be unpopular with
someone. He wished he had stayed at home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So let’s move on, now, shall we?” said Dorothy, who was
finding the drift of the conversation exasperating. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Have you decided about the inauguration of the bells,
Frederick? Those ringers been practising long enough and they’ve already rung
on Sundays.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“’Well, I...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How about next Sunday?’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you really think...?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes I do. So that’s settled. Who’s going to notify the
press?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith was so thankful that something constructive was
happening that she volunteered to do that. Cleo said she would put up a notice
in the library. Middlethumpton public library was now quite a popular venue,
sporting an internet café and even a hot drinks machine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And phone Gordon Savage, will you? I’m sure he’ll be
delighted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gordon Savage had made progress in leaps and bounds with his
team of bell-ringers. He was pleasantly surprised himself and planning a career
as bell-ringing coach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith might have her hands full, but she was delighted to be
singled out for even the most boring extra missions. She smiled at Dorothy,
whom she no longer viewed as a rival for her husband’s time, now it no longer
really mattered what Frederick did with it, though she would not have actually
admitted to feeling like that. It wasn’t losing her memory that had changed
Edith’s personality; it was regaining it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll do that, too,” said Edith. She liked Gordon Savage. He
was always charming when she brought the coffee over for the rehearsal break
while he was coaching the changes. And he was unhappy. He’d told her that.
People like confiding in vicars’ wives, probably because they are used to bearing
other people’s troubles. And there was something endearing about Edith, once
you got beyond the exasperating bit. Gordon Savage thought she might be an
explosion of passion, given the opportunity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If that’s all in the bag, I’ll get going now,” said Laura,
getting up from her chair with a flourish. “Lots to do before the concert.” She
propped herself up on the back of the chair and gave everyone a stern look. The
sherry had gone to her legs. She was fine with gin and vodka, but sherry was
too sweet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Endearing was not an adjective likely to be used to describe
Laura Finch. Dorothy was sure she was drunk now, the generous tumblers of
sherry possibly helped by the slugs of vodka she had imbibed before attending
the meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shall I help you home, Laura?” Dorothy asked and earned
herself a look that could kill. Laura and held on tightly to the back of her
chair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about some other events?” Dorothy said. “I don’t
suppose you are interested, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip perked up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura wound her way round her chair and sat down again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you think I could have some coffee, Edith?” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can we have another pantomime Dorothy? A pantomime would
round the year off nicely,” the vicar enthused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But not before the garden party, Frederick, and....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone looked expectantly in Dorothy’s direction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“...the bell-ringing competition.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although it sounded like an event with long tradition, Dorothy
had in fact just invented it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s get the inauguration and my concert over first, shall
we?” Laura remarked. Indignation had turned to petulance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The royal ‘we’ did not escape Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect you’ll be busy in Lower Grumpsfield at the
weekend, won’t you, Laura? I hear there’s going to be a poultry show. You won’t
want to miss that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m allergic to poultry,” said Laura. “And anyway, I’ll be
busy packing. I’m moving house next week – to Upper Grumpsfield.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That silenced everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy remembered that the cottage on the corner of
Lavender Drive, only two corners from her own cottage, had been empty for some
time. Lately there had been rumours that someone with a large bosom and a loud
voice was moving in, and there had been a lot of coming and going by
electricians, decorators and the like. It had not occurred to Dorothy that the
description matched Laura perfectly. How cunning of her to keep her new
domicile a secret. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that is a surprise!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since Dorothy Price was usually well-informed about what
went on in her neighbourhood, she could have kicked herself for not
investigating the cottage’s new ownership. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never did like that draughty old house in Lower
Grumpsfield,” Laura Finch explained. “After my next door neighbour opened a day
nursery a few months ago, there’s no peace and quiet any more. Children should
be seen and not heard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy thought that could also explain why she had been
glad to farm Jason out to foster parents, but she didn’t say anything. The
threatening look on Laura’s face forbade comments. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And now the Nightingales are going to be a permanent part
of cultural life here. Snapping up that nice bungalow in Lavender Drive was a
very good idea. I have nice neighbours to. The Crightons, you know. Their son
Betjeman plays the drums.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy decided that the noise of drums was more musical to
Laura’s ear than the proximity of small children playing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, it was, it is,” agreed Mr Parsnip, who genuinely
thought so and vowed to be a regular caller.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My other neighbours had first refusal on my house, but they
bought it. They’re going to enlarge their nursery and combine it with a care
home, killing two birds with one stone, as it were. So if you’ll excuse me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With that, Laura bounced fast if a bit unsteadily out of the
room and was heard to slam the front door behind her. Edith had not been fast
enough to show her out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was quite a long pause for everyone to think through
what having Laura Finch in the immediate neighbourhood would entail. Mr Parsnip
broke the silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where were we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know where you were, but I’m off home, Mr Parsnip. I’ve
got the accounts to do before the new ordering,” said Robert, making a fast
exit with Cleo close behind. She had been mainly silent at the meeting, but had
a few questions of her own to ask Robert before he settled down to calculating
how much profit, if any, he had made the previous week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’d better have another meeting next week to sort out the
rest of the year,” said Dorothy. Now only she, Edith, Gareth Morgan and the vicar
were still gathered round the vicarage dining-table. Laura Finch had managed to
rock the boat. And there was no chance of her not doing so again, now she was
going to live two corners from Monkton Way. No point in warning the vicar to
keep his distance since he seemed to have a penchant for large-bosomed, loud-mouthed
women – though admittedly, Edith did not know if he knew any others apart from
his sister Beatrice, and she didn’t count. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy could not get over Frederick saying Laura moving to
Upper Grumpsfield was a good idea. Dorothy thought it was the last straw. The
Finch Nightingales would practise in the church hall and hold regular concerts
there. Soon Laura would dominate all the local entertainments and Dorothy would
be left out in the cold. A dismal prospect. It took a fast walk home to her
cottage for Dorothy to regain her composure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since there was nothing she could do to prevent Laura Finch
from living virtually a stone’s throw away, she would have to be quite firm
about her not popping in uninvited. She would tell Laura that it was because
she often had to teach and didn’t like the lessons to be disturbed. Dorothy was
determined not to let Laura encroach on her life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One major decision she had reached reluctantly was to
postpone her visit to the relatives in Wales. With the bell-ringing
inauguration the following Sunday and the concert the Saturday after, it would
look like she was shirking her duty to the organization of the parish music if
she were to go away. The bell-ringers would miss her, and she would miss the
goings-on of Laura Finch and her chorus unless she stayed home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy phoned her niece Victoria to tell her of the
decision. Far from being disappointed, Dorothy thought Victoria had sounded
jubilant on the phone. But it didn’t take her two minutes to explain that
figuratively speaking, if Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain, the mountain
would come to Mohammed. Victoria would drive down to Upper Grumpsfield and
spend a few days with Aunt Dorothy instead, but without Lucy, who was doing a
tennis course and would not under any circumstances want to miss any of it.
Victoria could arrive on Tuesday afternoon and Aunt Dorothy could tell her the
details of why she had decided not to leave Upper Grumpsfield to its own
devices. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Victoria’s decision to drive over also came as a surprise
since she normally had to work during the week. Did she have an ulterior
motive? She sounded full of beans. Dorothy was sure she was imagining things,
but speculation would not get the little box room ready for a guest and it took
her the rest of the day to sort things out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shopping was done hastily before Dorothy did some off-schedule
baking followed by a pot of tea while she watched the muffins and chocolate
cake rise to her satisfaction. Victoria would be bound to appreciate them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not only Victoria. The vicar paid her an impromptu visit,
ostensibly to see if his friend was all right, since she had quite forgotten to
phone the previous evening. As usual his time was impeccable, coinciding as it
did with the muffins emerging from the oven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They’re for my niece,” Dorothy told him. “You can only have
one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s all right. Are you sure you can spare it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy thought that would have been sarcasm if anyone else
had said it, but Frederick Parsnip was never sarcastic. In fact, he was sometimes
a bit too humble. It made her want to shout at him. And Frederick was getting a
paunch. Too much sitting around and too many cakes, she decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One’s enough, Frederick,” she retorted. “You’re getting
fat!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip was not a vain man, but even he had noticed that
his profile was becoming less svelte and his waistline less defined.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m going to run a marathon,” he announced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t be ridiculous!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m serious, Dorothy. It’s for charity. We’ll have it in
August.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you proposing an event, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now he came to think of it, a marathon in Upper Grumpsfield wasn’t
such a bad idea. What a pity he hadn’t mentioned it at the meeting. But then
again, it had only just occurred to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Make it a five mile walk instead,” she advised. “Down
Thumpton hill, to Lower Grumpsfield the back way, up that awful hill between
Lower Grumpsfield and here, past that dreadful new housing estate and back
again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you say so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I certainly do. You can’t possibly run a marathon,
Frederick. You’re totally out of condition!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s all your delicious baking, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t blame me, Frederick. Edith bakes beautiful cakes. Now
please go home. I’m expecting my niece any minute.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After accompanying the vicar to the garden gate and watching
him meandering down Monkton Way on his beloved mountain-bike, she pondered on
the wisdom of involving him in any kind of sporting event. Hardly had she
cleared away the remains of his hasty snack than she heard a car draw up to the
kerb and almost immediately Victoria’s voice calling to say they had arrived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We? Had they all come? There was no way a whole family would
fit into the cottage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her delight at seeing her sister Vera again was unbounded.
They embraced over and over again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t believe it. You look just the same as 10 years ago!
When did you arrive?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A couple of days ago. You haven’t changed at all, either, Dorothy.
Is it really 10 years since you came to visit me?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It must be. I was still living in London then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
”Let’s go inside, Aunt Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You didn’t let on, Victoria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought you liked surprises.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I like surprises. And this one is really a
surprise to beat all others.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy’s guests loved the fresh cakes still warm from the
oven. She was glad she had restrained Frederick from eating everything in
sight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Vera, you’d better share my big bed so that we can talk all
night if we want to.” As children they had always doubled up when guests came.
Now they were in what Dorothy liked to think of as advanced middle age, nothing
had changed at all. Even being separated for most of their adult lives had made
no difference.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You don’t mind the little box room, do you Victoria? The
bed’s comfortable.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I could sleep on the sofa, Aunt Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I won’t hear of it. How long can you stay?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll have to go home pretty soon or they’ll tell me I’m
avoiding the renovations. But Mummy could stay here for a week or so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s wonderful, Vera. When are you going back to the USA?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not going back here, Dorothy. There’s no reason to go
back to the States. I’ve sold everything that would not fit into the container and
I’m going to live with Victoria in Frint-on-Sea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s the whole point of the renovations, Aunt Dorothy. We’re
turning the attic into an apartment for Bill and me and Mummy will have our
bedroom as a bedsit. It’s all sorted out. By the time I fetch you and Mummy
next week we’ll have finished most of the work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy had only one problem with these arrangements. She
would not be able to get away for at least a fortnight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t go away for at least two weeks, Victoria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘That’s OK, Aunt Dorothy. Then it won’t be such a scramble renovating.”<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Vera can come to the inauguration of the bells next Sunday
and Laura’s choral concert the Saturday after that. It’ll be nice not to have
to sit through Laura Finch on my own.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is it that bad?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think it’s good. But I’m spoilt after all those years
in London. And Laura Finch is far too fond of the sound of her own voice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Talking about Laura Finch usually made Dorothy angry, but
sitting up in bed telling Vera some of the anecdotes connected with that histrionic
personage and all the other village characters made her see the funny side of
it all, especially with Vera hooting with laughter at Dorothy’s solemnity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy could not resist telling her sister the saga of the
bells. They had decided to hold auditions for bell ringers. Laura Finch had been
as good as her word, though her motives were, as usual, entirely selfish. In
double quick time she had persuaded (or coerced) one of her chorus ladies, a
shy woman named Betty who had never before emerged from behind the more pushy ‘Finch
Nightingales’, into persuading her husband Gordon to take an interest in Saint
Peter’s bells. Gordon was almost chief bell-ringer at Saint Joseph’s the other
side of Middlethumpton. He had been sitting around at the Council Offices for
donkey’s years hungry for any challenge that came his way, and was thankful to
be offered one. Not waiting to be asked twice, Gordon had immediately consented
to come to the auditions, though it was such short notice, and this news had
duly been conveyed to Mr Parsnip, who had done triumphant pirouette in his
swivelling chair (winding it up in the process) before composing the
announcement of the venture he would proclaim from the pulpit the following
Sunday and advertise in Bernie Browne’s Gazette.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your Mr Parsnip is a bit of a nut-case,” Vera said. “In
fact, Upper Grumpsfield has more than its fair share of nut-cases.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although Laura Finch had pushed herself into the limelight, Mr
Parsnip had begged Dorothy to come to the auditions of would-be bell-ringers as
well because she would know immediately if they had a musical ear. To his
credit, Mr Parsnip was never sure how much Laura Finch actually knew about
music, so out of tune did her chorus sing, even to his undiscerning hearing. To
Dorothy Price’s utter amazement, 20 hopefuls turned up, many of whom had been
waylaid by Delilah Brown during karaoke sessions and urged to support the
cause. Wednesday was a rest day at the Dog and Whistle, so Mitch, Joe and even
Delilah turned up at St Peter’s, though Delilah protested that she did not really
have the figure for bell-ringing and was only there out of curiosity. Mitch and
Joe both proved to be talented, as did half a dozen others, all of whom had first
been obliged by Dorothy to sing up and down a scale and perform the Big Ben
chimes before even getting near a bell rope. This weeded out all those who
either did not know what a scale was, didn’t remember the Big Ben chimes, or else
lacked any musical ability whatsoever. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the singing was over and the unqualified or inept
candidates dismissed, Gordon had taken over. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cursed with the surname Savage, Gordon was about as meek as
they come except when a bell rope was put into his hands. Then he was
transformed into a steaming package of muscles able to stem the heaviest bell,
though of course it isn’t weight that counts in the end, but timing. Before
long you could hear the first tentative peals all over Upper Grumpsfield and
before the evening was over, a respectable four bell change was being rung by Mitch,
Joe, Gordon and Mr Smith, Dorothy Price’s postman, with astonishing accuracy
and persistence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, that was only one change that would be repeated
over and over again, as if you were repeating the first line of the Big Ben
chimes, but Gordon was confident that they could add a new one each week until
they had a really impressive choice to accompany whatever an occasion demanded.
At the end of the rehearsal Gordon had rung a few majestic rhythmic peals with
two bells, one rope in each hand. That mystified every one and they had all
applauded vigorously and praised each other for getting it all going so fast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Armed with this amount of background information, Vera was
sure the inauguration of the bells would be a resounding success, at which pun
she laughed so loudly that Victoria came in to see what the matter was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karl von Klippen, another of those Vera declared to be
congenitally barmy, had had to miss the first call for bell-ringers, but joined
the team the following week and would for sure take part in the event, provided
it wasn’t the day he became a father. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just wait till you hear Karl’s quaint English, Vera. Don’t
laugh at him,” Dorothy advised. “He’s such a nice man and it’s been a blessing
for the vicar to have someone apart from me on whom to try out his convoluted
sermons.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first crack of dawn was spreading across the sky when
the anecdotes finally trailed off. It was Victoria bearing the morning tea who
woke them up long after Dorothy would normally have been running around getting
things done.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Victoria drove back to Wales safe in the knowledge that her
two favourite senior citizens would probably amuse themselves non-stop when
left to own devices. Victoria sometimes felt older than her mother, so well in
her stride did her mother take even the biggest challenges she encountered,
while she, Victoria, was a worrier. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy and Vera had always been as thick as thieves, not
just sisters. Dorothy tended to take things seriously so it was up to Vera to jolly
her along until they were both laughing at something or other, which tended to
raise eyebrows in enclosed spaces. Vera’s hoots of laughter were startling.
Some people thought you should have stopped laughing like that by the time you
get to her age, but Vera had an irrepressible sense of humour. Dorothy, who was
only a little older than her sister, had been finding things less and less
funny lately and had not found much to laugh about. Having Vera to stay was
nothing less than marvellous since having Vera back in her life, was putting
things that bothered Dorothy back into proportion. At last she talk through her
problems. Up until Edith’s disappearance, Frederick had often called and they
had chatted away as good friends do, but the vicar was no longer himself. In
fact, Dorothy was starting to think he might be heading for a nervous
breakdown, or burnout, as modern therapists liked to call it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sisters had negotiated the bus and were window-shopping
in Middlethumpton when Dorothy asked Vera if she had ever done karaoke. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. Should I have?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘That remains to be seen, Vera. On Friday there’s a karaoke
competition at Delilah’s bistro.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In that little nest?” Since when has there been a bistro?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Since Delilah took over. Remember years ago going to the
Dog and Whistle during one of your visits?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That old pub? Faintly. It wasn’t what you’d call
salubrious.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that plump little star-struck barmaid is now the
proprietor and has turned the old pub into a really splendid place to eat,
drink and be merry. You’ll love it, Vera.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Surprise me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The week flew by. Lunch at the vicarage was followed by
recalling the nasty bishop saga that sounded like fiction to Vera. Dorothy had
always had a vivid imagination and a passion for crime, but confirmation by
Edith made Vera realize that Upper Grumpsfield really had been the object of
that guy’s unscrupulous plans; Dorothy had not just read about it or seen it on
TV. A splendid T-bone steak supper at Cleo’s cottage made Vera very nostalgic
for her happy years in the U.S.A. Cleo and Robert consoled her with the promise
that they would repeat this menu whenever Vera visited Upper Grumpsfield if she
promised to bring along her slides and photos. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No problem,” Vera told them. “Bill has scanned them all
into my laptop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wow,” said Cleo, “I’m impressed, Vera!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I never experienced karaoke, Cleo. Where I lived square-dance
was still immensely popular. Will you be there on Friday evening?’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Robert has to be there anyway, Vera. He supplies all the meat
and he usually deals with the grill.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That will make up for a tiresome afternoon,” sighed Dorothy,
“and give us an excuse for curtailing it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is there something you haven’t told me, Dorothy?” Vera
chipped in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To be honest, I only managed to avoid Laura Finch’s final
rehearsal last night by promising that we’d visit her on Friday afternoon,
though to be truthful, don’t know why she wants us there since we are not
really friends anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“For heaven’s sake, Dodo, don’t look on the black side!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dodo?” laughed Cleo. “Is that your nickname, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t call me that on pain of death, Cleo!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course not. Kids usually have nicknames for each other.
What did you call Vera?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She called me Soso, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Soso?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My middle name is Sophia. And that was preferable to Vivi
or worse still, Weewee.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cleo’s mother calls me Bobby,” said Robert. “I feel like
putting on a policeman’s helmet when she calls me that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My full name is Cleopatra. I can’t think why my mom had to
saddle me with that name. She started calling Robert Bobby the minute she
clapped eyes on him. But he’s OK about it now, aren’t you, Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I’m not! She’s an annoying woman altogether.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mitch calls Delilah ‘Del” said Cleo. “But she says she
prefers that to being called Delilah.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And who’s Mitch?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Delilah’s new knight in shining armour!” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Getting back to Laura Finch”, said Vera. “Why on earth do
we have to visit her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She moved in on Monday, despite the concert looming up. I’m
curious otherwise I would have found an excuse not to go,” said Dorothy<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not curious, but I suppose we’ll survive. I wonder what
Laura’s ulterior motive is,” said Vera.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a tactical move by Dorothy, as she explained at some
length. She was determined to avoid Laura popping in and out, so being invited
to visit suited her fine. She would make it clear to Laura Finch that impromptu
visits were quite out of the question. Lower Grumpsfield had been far enough
away to make that unlikely, but with Laura living practically round the corner
it was high time to establish rules of conduct. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura’s bungalow turned out to be in total chaos, with half
emptied packing cases everywhere and the contents strewn around the rooms.
Dorothy and Vera were shocked. Laura was unperturbed. She invited them to sit
on plastic chairs on the dusty veranda and served instant coffee laced with rum
out of plastic mugs at a rickety table covered with a grubby embroidered cloth.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you need help with your unpacking, Laura?” Dorothy felt
obliged to ask.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We could get some of the stuff off the floor and into
drawers and cupboards,” added Vera.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That won’t be necessary,” replied Laura in such a snooty
voice that the sisters were in no doubt that trying to help Laura was not worth
the effort. In her mind, Laura seemed to be presiding over a luxury afternoon
tea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t take long for them to get up and announce that they
had shopping to do. Once out of earshot they exchanged views on the situation.
Dorothy was ashamed of Laura. Vera thought she was pathetically funny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought your Laura Finch would be a towering figure of
strength, Dorothy,” said Vera. “But she’s really just a wreck and she’s
drinking more than she should.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think she’s been doing that for a long time. The chorus
starting to rebel against her authority has knocked the wind out of her sails.
I was shocked at all the junk, Vera. I knew she didn’t like the idea of being a
housewife, but that really takes the biscuit. I’m not going there again if I
can avoid it. Even having her dropping into my place is better than having to
go to hers! And anyway, why did she insist on inviting us before she had
established some kind of order?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think she wanted to justify her move to you. She must
realize that there is speculation and she’s obviously blind to the state the
place is in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Or indifferent. I wouldn’t put it past her. If she’s not
sober most of the time, that would explain quite a lot, wouldn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But why move in such an unseemly hurry?” said Vera. “Was she
thrown out of her old house?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You heard what she said the other evening, Vera, although
she seems to have embroidered the story somewhat since I heard the bare bones. All
she told me at the time was that she was bothered by what was going on next
door after the neighbour decided to care for old people on a permanent basis
and increase the revenue by caring for infants during the day. Too much noise
all round. And she got a good price for her house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She could have thrown out all the junk she seems to have
furnished that nice little bungalow with.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wonder what Jason thinks about it all. It was his family
home, too, and some of that junk furnished it for donkey’s years” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t suppose she can get used to having a son after
hiding him away all his life,” said Vera.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I suppose that is really the most awful part of the whole
story. Fancy dumping your child on foster parents somewhere in the Caribbean so
that you can carry on with your own glamorous life except that it was far from
glamorous, I suspect! Jason’s nose gave him away, Vera. I don’t suppose she’d
have admitted he’s her son if she had not been obliged to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Poor Jason.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now I think about it, I’m sure Laura has two lives: the make-believe
one and the real one, and judging by her well-stocked cocktail bar, the one
tidy part in the place, she’s using alcohol to bridge the gap,” said Dorothy. “I
never thought of it that way before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you think she’s an alcoholic?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wonder? I expect alcohol flowed freely on those cruise
ships, and she could probably drink as much as she wanted as a member of the
crew. Old habits die hard. She could have turned to alcohol again after all the
problems she had with Jason.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Vodka is a discrete tipple if you don’t want people to know
about your addiction,” said Vera. “It must have been a shock to realize that
everyone disapproved of her and that triggered off her latest drinking phase. “Are
you going to help her, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What can I do about it? We never got on well, even during
the fiasco with the ‘Tour of the Universe’. She was livid that she hadn’t
realized what a swindle it was and even more livid that I had.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She might have shown a little more thanks, then,” said
Vera.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I confess that it’s almost gratifying to see her going to
the dogs after her high and mighty attitude to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘And if that’s her normal standard of hospitality, she’ll
be lonely in that bungalow of hers, with or without the drinking. I wouldn’t
miss her concert for anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ll probably wish you had, Vera.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That evening the karaoke was a great success. Dorothy Price
had seen it all before, but Vera hadn’t. She wished Victoria, or better still
Bill and Victoria had been there. They would definitely have had a go. Some of
those who did have a go should not have made such fools of themselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy pointed out that it was not a talent competition.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is Robert responsible for this marvellous steak?” Vera
asked. “It’s just like being back in Austin.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Vera assured her that nothing could hold a candle to
being back with the family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A distressed phone-call from the vicar early on Saturday
morning put an end to one of the plans for Sunday. The inauguration of the
bells would have to be postponed until after Laura’s concert because Mr Savage,
the bell-ringing expert without whom no performance could take place, was
unfortunately ill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The following week passed fairly uneventfully and despite
pleas from Laura for Dorothy to attend the final rehearsal at the church hall,
Dorothy was firm. She could not possibly leave Vera to her own devices and Vera
would not want to spoil things by attending a rehearsal before the concert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura had to make do with that explanation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank goodness for that,” said Vera. “Having experienced
Laura as a down and out, I’m not curious enough to want to go through the
experience twice of living through her as a half plastered choral conductor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll have to get to the church hall early on Saturday so that
we can get seats where Laura won’t spot us when she does her announcing,” said
Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sure all the relatives of the singers will sit at the
front, Dorothy. No doubt she’ll play to them.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Half an hour before the concert started, Dorothy and Vera
found themselves sitting next to Edith, who was also anxious not to be spotted
and actually had other things on her mind than Laura’s Finch’s caterwauling
chorus. She had begged Mr Parsnip to rethink the idea of letting Laura loose on
a Saturday evening in the church hall, but he was standing by his word, saying
that vicars had to set a shining example. To Edith’s horror, it was all going
to happen just as Laura Finch wanted it to. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately for the church roof, which was benefitting from
the concert, lots of people turned up. When the church hall was full to
capacity, a hundred or so people would have paid to get in and the costs of
whoever was performing would have been covered with something left over to
boost not only the newly installed church roof fund, but add a little to the
organ fund. Edith told Vera that the vicar was nervous about Laura. Had she
been drinking to give her courage? Would she get through the concert without
incident? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shortly before 7:30 the mayor of Middlethumpton, Mr
Cobblethwaite, accompanied by Mrs Cobblethwaite, who had gone to school with
Laura, turned up. He was telling her and everyone within hearing distance that
he didn’t like music and especially ladies’ choirs. She was telling him to shut
up and sit down on the padded chairs reserved for them in the front row.
Everyone else was telling them both to be quiet because the choir was emerging
from behind a heavy black velvet curtain that served as a backdrop and did
nothing for the acoustics. In their wake, Laura Finch marched on wearing a
chiffon affair with a short train.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gareth Morgan struck up with the first song, a boisterous
rendering of “We’ll keep a welcome on the hillside”. This entirely unsuitable
song had been forced on Laura by Mr Morgan, who was determined to have a bit of
Wales in the programme. It was followed by familiar tunes from various TV shows
and a number of evergreens hardly anyone knew. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But at least the first half went smoothly, and the finger food
made available by the Finch Nightingales themselves and washed down with cider
donated by a well-wisher served to put everyone in a good mood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What Edith later described as merciful providence, since she
could not stand any more of Laura’s performance, was in fact a terrible
tragedy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura had just raised her baton in true orchestral manner to
give the cue for Mr Morgan to play the introduction to the first song after the
pause when there was a terrific crash outside. It felt like an earthquake. The
whole audience rose instantly to its feet and made for the exit in panic. The
chorus ladies dived behind the velvet curtain. Laura just stood there,
abandoned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bell tower, which had been added to the church much
later and was a few yards away at the end of a path, was usually lit up by
spotlights fixed to the wall of the church when there was an event at the
church hall. Now they were shining on the remains of that tower. The top part
had imploded and collapsed. Fortunately most of the bricks and stones had
fallen into the tower as the walls crashed inwards. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip's thought it was providence that 5 minutes
earlier people would have been walking around or past it during the concert
interval. But the collapse of a bell tower is anything but providential,
especially with the mayor is present. Mr Cobblethwaite laughed heartily at the
calamity and was dragged away unceremoniously by Mrs Cobblethwaite, who had not
over-indulged on the cider and was covered with shame that her husband did not
show any sympathy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bell tower was now a good deal shorter than it had been.
It had collapsed exactly where the bells were fixed to the steel girders. The
fire chief, who lived near enough to hear the crash and came immediately to see
what had happened, explained that the steel girders were certain to be corroded
and no longer able to stand the pressure of the bell-ringing. Had they had it inspected
for safety before reinstalling the tradition? No? That would make getting
compensation tricky. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fire chief speculated that an earthquake could have
brought the whole tower and even the old church down, which would have been
even worse. He rang his colleagues in Middlethumpton and in no time at all a
fire engine arrived to cordon off the tower and ascertain if anyone was inside.
Mr Parsnip had moved from the idea of providence to the feeling of utter
devastation. If he’d been burnt out before the catastrophe, that was nothing to
how he felt now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fire brigade sent everyone home, much to Laura Finch’s
indignation. She hadn’t finished the concert yet, she told them. The audience
had paid to get in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Give them their money back, Lady” advised the fire chief. “We
can’t have crowds hanging round before we’ve finished our work. And the police
won’t want that either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Police?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course. They’ll have to find out if it was sabotage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip heard that last bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sabotage? Why would anyone want to sabotage my bell tower?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Only speculation, vicar. It was probably the strain put on
the girders by the bell-ringing. You should have had them inspected.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip turned away so that no one would see the tears rolling
down his cheeks. He almost wished the supermarket giants had got hold of the
land. This new humiliation was going to last him a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Sunday morning, Mr Parsnip had regained his composure,
but he was still hysterical inside. How was he going to explain things to the
congregation, who were sure to turn up in droves after the calamity? He did his
level best, but his sermon was dripping with grief and remorse, since it was to
all intents and purposes his fault. If he had not revived the bell-ringing tradition,
the tower would still be there in all its glory. No one was able to console him.
He stood at the door of St Peter’s accepting a few commiserations and a great
many rebukes and wished the earth would swallow him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later, when everyone had come to look at the ruined bell
tower by daylight and gone home shaking their heads, Dorothy and Vera took the
vicar aside and assured him that it was a tragedy waiting to happen and could
have happened with the bell ringers inside, so in fact it was better this way.
But Mr Parsnip didn’t believe that. In fact, he had stopped believing in
anything at all. And Upper Grumpsfield was still bell-less. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy reminded him that he would have to cancel the
inauguration of those bells. That, he told her, was rubbing salt in the wounds.
That, she told him, was the result of not heeding safely precautions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Someone in the parish who worked for Middlethumpton town council
phoned and said the town surveyor of Middlethumpton, who had been extremely
pleased that the fraudulent bishop had been rumbled and imprisoned, would be pleased
to take a leading role in assessing the damage and would inspect the location on
Monday, if the vicar agreed. Mr Parsnip started to feel better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Victoria arrived that afternoon to collect the two sisters,
Dorothy saw them off for home without her, promising to catch a train to Wales
as soon as things got better. She would have to stay and support the vicar. And
she would have to try to sort out Laura Finch’s problems, too. If she didn’t,
would anybody? <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-7737043551646678442016-02-07T01:15:00.003-08:002017-01-24T12:41:33.768-08:0033 - Life goes on<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a hung over Thursday and Gloria’s departure on Friday
morning, things were, in Dorothy Price’s opinion, about to get back to normal
for most people who had been involved in any way. She was sure that Cleo and
Robert would get married eventually. For a moment she had thought Cleo was
going to walk out on the proceedings in the vestry, but she had eventually come
round to believing that things were exactly as Rita had said they were. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Cleo was angry that Robert had kept his marriage to Rita a
secret, despite having had at least one ideal opportunity to be open about his
past life. They were not as close after months of going out together and weeks
actually living together as she and Gary after one embrace. She would phone
Gary as soon as possible and tell him what had transpired. He was as anxious
for Cleo not to get married to Robert as Robert was anxious to marry her.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch had been keeping herself to herself so entirely
that Dorothy thought she was trying to get out of doing the concert at the
Church Hall. Mr Parsnip, knowing full well that Dorothy was not easy to talk to
on that subject, had not mentioned it to her, but since he did not have
anything new to report, that was of no consequence. The only person to be in
regular contact with the Finch Nightingales was Mr Morgan, who replied to Mr
Parsnip’s routine inquiries with yes, they are practising and no, they are not
going to cancel the concert. Mr Parsnip decided to give it one more week. It
hadn’t been his idea to have the Finch choir singing at the church hall, and Dorothy
had warned him off to no avail. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the moment he couldn’t be bothered with the Finch woman.
He couldn’t be bothered with anything, if the truth be known. Even the run up
to and then the hiatus in the wedding had only temporally released him from his
lethargy and by Friday, his depression having been exacerbated by the disaster
of Cleo and Robert’s wedding ceremony, he was starting to think it was all his
fault, like everything else that went wrong in the village. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Saturday morning, Dorothy decided it was high time to find
out what was the matter with her friend. Frederick Parsnip was behaving more
and more strangely, at least some of this theory being based on his
unfriendliness to her and everyone else. After breakfast and teaching two piano
lessons she could well have done without, she walked briskly to the vicarage to
sort things out, once and for all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s time to think about your parishioners, Frederick,
instead of just thinking about yourself,” she told him in a sharp voice, as
soon as he had let her in. This brought Edith hurrying out of the kitchen and
Mr Parsnip scurrying back into his study with a big frown on his face, leaving Dorothy
standing in the hall shaking her head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith, who had often resented Dorothy Price’s interference
in the past, was now pleased to see her. She thought her husband had fallen further
down his deep hole. He had spent nearly all day Thursday sharpening pencils,
she told Dorothy. On Friday morning he had got on his mountain bike and
wandering off for several hours, only returning in time to have supper with the
boys, during which he said not a single word. Then he retired to his study,
where he stayed doing she knew not what until long after she had gone to bed.
He didn’t even say thank you for his cocoa, and this morning she discovered
that he hadn’t drunk it, so things must be desperate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s as if he’s burnt out,” said Edith. “Ever since that
problem with the bishop, he has changed, Dorothy. I can’t shake him out of it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact, Edith was no longer sure she wanted to bother
trying. She herself had changed. She no longer wanted any physical contact with
her husband, though that condition had been forced on her by the vicar as he
wanted to be quite sure she did not have any more children. But Edith was
loyal. Neither of them would have dreamt of being unfaithful, so they existed
side by side in a frigid atmosphere of their own making. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Perhaps he needs professional help,” said Dorothy. “Shall I
talk to him about it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would you? He never listens to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy felt quite sorry for Edith. It wasn’t easy being
married to Frederick, she was sure. The happy years seemed to be at an end and
Edith, who had always wanted a big family, found herself coping alone, not just
with five strenuous boys, but with almost every aspect of life at the old vicarage.
It wasn’t as if Frederick Parsnip was that much older, let alone too old to be
bothered. He just seemed to have lost the plot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy remembered how Frederick had reacted to Edith’s
disappearance a few months previously. He had almost been relieved and hadn’t
seemed in any hurry to find her. What is more, Edith forgetting her family
altogether for days on end was surely another sign that things were going badly
wrong. She thought they had patched things up again, but now she realized that
Edith was just as unhappy as she had been then, and Frederick was unaware of
anything outside himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately, you don’t deal with the mothers of talent-free
little girls yearning to be ballet dancers without learning tact and diplomacy
and quite a bit about parent psychology. Dorothy took her own and the vicar’s
steaming hot coffee that Edith had made for them and went into the study
without knocking, to find Frederick Parsnip gazing out of the window, pencil in
one hand, craft knife in the other. No wonder he needs a constant supply of
pencils, she thought. I expect he’s chopped a few thousand into little bits by
now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If the vicar found Dorothy’s company a nuisance, he didn’t
let on. She was one of the few people he found helpful even if she was
irritating at times. Now he instinctively knew that she wanted to help him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy had already thought out a strategy for getting
things moving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll have to have a meeting, Frederick,” she told him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Meeting? What for?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, for a start there’s the bell ringers to inaugurate. They’ve
been practising hard, but you haven’t officially given them your blessing, have
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Haven’t I?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And there’s Laura Finch’s concert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come on Frederick. Snap out of it for a minute!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frederick Parsnip was not even sure he could manage to write
a sermon for the following day, let alone hold a meeting. It took tongues of
angels for Dorothy to get him to take an interest in what she was saying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect you’ve written your sermon, haven’t you,
Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve made a start,” he said, holding up a sheet of paper
with untidily scribbled notes on it. “I thought I’d do the poem from the
wedding again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His face lit up as he quoted it: This is the first day of
the rest of our lives. Let the sun shine on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s very nice, Frederick, but is it suitable or even
tactful?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“When I write a sermon on a cheerful theme it cheers me up,
Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We could write a new poem, Frederick. Something more
appropriate.<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t write poetry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I can. What about this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life is a big wheel<br />
turning around and around.<br />
We are only the passengers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frederick admitted that it was quite nice and he would try
to make something of it, though he did not think it was Japanese poetry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy resisted the temptation to scold him for such
pettiness, and for criticizing her poetry when she was trying to help him. She
had not even been trying to write a Japanese poem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip put the craft knife back in its box and hid it on
a high shelf where he thought none of the boys could reach it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy decided things couldn’t be that bad if he’d thought
of the danger of leaving sharp knives where his boys could get at them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better get cracking,” he said, with a sudden and
totally unexpected surge of energy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s more like it. Can we have a meeting tomorrow?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, if you can sort it out, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No problem, Frederick. Feeling better now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know what gets into me, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s probably just a passing phase, Frederick, but you
could get some help to conquer whatever demon possesses you now and again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not a demon, Dorothy. I don’t need exorcising!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s not quite what I meant, but let’s leave it for now,
shall we? The main thing is that you get through the service tomorrow morning
and the meeting tomorrow afternoon. It’s Onward Christian Soldiers from now
on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To Dorothy’s astonishment Frederick burst into song and
Edith hurried in. She had definitely been eavesdropping, but Dorothy thought
she probably needed to in order to keep abreast of situations. Frederick was
quite a liability, when all is said and done.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you make a new list of possible events for the rest of
the year, I’ll phone around and make sure that everyone comes tomorrow,
Frederick. I’ll let you know how I get on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She assured Edith that things would be better now and told
her about the forthcoming meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you do some baking, Edith, my dear?” Frederick wanted
to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith beamed. He hadn’t been so affectionate for ages. It
was a good sign. She saw Dorothy Price to the door then hurried to the pantry
to see if all the ingredients were in good supply. Dorothy hurried home and
phoned everyone on the committee. They all said they would be glad to come,
especially Gareth Morgan, who looked forward to an hour or two in the presence
of Edith, who was now undeniably the main object of his affections and a
nonpareil as far as he could judge after his various disappointing encounters
with other members of the gentler sex. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy organized the meeting to her own satisfaction before
cooking herself something nice for supper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a good thing that Delilah’s forthcoming bistro
opening was only days after the luckless wedding ceremony. She was able to
disguise the wedding feast as the general rehearsal for the opening, which gave
the Karaoke a kick-start and made everyone laugh and forget the ill-fated
marriage ceremony. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the help of Mitch’s timely arrival and unflagging
energy, Delilah had earmarked Saturday evening for her grand opening. The press
had been informed and a full page spread with photos had appeared in the local
newspapers in good time for people to plan their weekend around the event. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Joe, a distant relative of Mitch’s (if you can believe that)
and a first class pizza cook whose real name of Jaruslav was a bit too exotic
to call out in an English pub, had decided on his menu for the opening night
and was going to lead a crusade of his own to convince the English that pub
food did not have to consist of stale pork pies and potato crisps. The Dog and
Whistle would be famous for its cuisine, if not for its singing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hosting the wedding celebrations had been a bit of a
scramble with only four days' notice, but since it also served as an impromptu
dry run to make sure everything worked, especially the karaoke equipment, it
had taken the first night pressure off everyone. Much to the amusement of the
wedding guests, Joe had twirled some pizza pastry and thrown it up in the air, inspiring
everyone to order a pizza loaded with their favourite extras. Mrs Barker, Dorothy
Price’s soft-hearted next-door neighbour, who had sat weeping in the church
long after the marriage ceremony had been abandoned, was spotted by Delilah and
taken along to the pub. Delilah even rang Mr Barker on her mobile phone, but he
was reluctant to leave his vegetable patch, so Mrs Barker sat with Dorothy commiserating
about what it took to make marriages fall apart, which was not a topic dear to Dorothy’s
heart in the light of that afternoon’s events. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having indulged herself in that spot of catharsis, Mrs
Barker had later proved invaluable to Mitch, as she was prepared to sing along
for ages with quite a passable alto voice while he adjusted various components
on his karaoke machine, and she had promised to come again on Saturday and
bring Mr Barker, who could do a good tenor after a beer or two. She would also
remember to bring her TV glasses so that she could sing more of the lyrics and
not have to resort to tralala. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Bontemps had also turned up on the pretext of delivering
some more ingredients for Joe’s menu, including a slab of Parmesan cheese that
had only just been flown in (or so he said) Being curious by nature, stayed to
see how the wedding party was going. The truth is that he had heard about the
party from Mr Barker, who had turned up at the shop to get himself a TV dinner,
since Mrs Barker was not going to be there to cook his supper. Mr Bontemps made
a show of surprise at the ongoing jollity but he fooled no one. The cheese
could certainly have waited until the following day. Delilah rather hoped that
he would not want to try the karaoke machine, but he did, which, however, gave Mitch
a chance to see what happened if the machine broke down suddenly for any reason
such as a vocal catastrophe that had to be brought to a hasty end without
actually insulting the perpetrator. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Mr Bontemps had to leave anyway, he said. Had he heard
the groans at the excruciating noises he was making? Delilah knew he was thick
skinned and would turn up again at the opening. She warned Mitch not to give
him another French chanson to murder. Mr Bontemps was convinced that bearing a
French name qualified him for anything Gallic. But no one had known that he was
practically tone deaf until that karaoke trial. Delilah vowed to have a word
with him, but Mr Bontemps was unlikely to listen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Saturday afternoon Dorothy, who was quite nervous after
her morning sorting out the vicar and phoning around to persuade everyone to
turn up for the impromptu meeting, played the piano for a long time while she
decided whether to go to the pub for the opening. Wednesday had been quite enjoyable
apart from Mr Bontemps, but she was not sure she could take another dose of karaoke
so soon, even if Mr Bontemps was prevented from performing. On the other hand,
she was curious about who else would come, and hoped that Laura Finch would
think better of it. There was nothing much she wanted to watch on TV, so when
the Barkers rang her doorbell at half past seven, she was ready to walk down to
the Dog and Whistle with them and even willing to hazard a guess about what
Cleo and Robert were going to do now the wedding was off. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch had arrived early and already ordered a large ham
and anchovy pizza. Dorothy could not avoid greeting her, but fortunately,
having arrived with the Barkers, she had an excuse to share their table, which
was rather disconcerting for Laura Finch, who was desperate to let bygones be
bygones with Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah’s opening had attracted more guests than she could
cope with. They spilled out onto the forecourt. Fortunately it wasn’t raining.
The crowd from the Thumpton Hill pub that had closed only weeks earlier took
their pizzas and pastas outside and sat on a low wall to eat them. To Delilah’s
amazement they even ordered Chianti poured out of traditional bottles in wicker
baskets to wash the food down. Dorothy had never seen such a huge amount of
food on her own plate before, except that it wasn’t a plate at all, but a round
wooden platter, which was apparently better suited to sawing through the pizza
base. At the party the previous Wednesday she hadn’t been able to eat anything much
because she was so upset. Mr Parsnip and Edith were sharing her table, and his pizza
looked even larger tonight. Edith, who on Wednesday had only managed to rescue
one small sliver of what the vicar had insisted he would go halves with, gratefully
accepted Dorothy’s offer of half of hers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the old grandfather clock, a remnant from the old days,
struck nine, it was time for the karaoke to get going, and it was unsurprisingly
Laura Finch who took the floor as soon as Delilah had done her boisterous
demonstration of how it all worked. Having come to the opening, Laura was
obviously determined to outsing the hostess, but was thwarted by the technology
and the fact that her voice production was not well-suited to the close
scrutiny of a microphone, which proceeded to retaliate with supersonic
electronic wailing that Mitch explained as protest at the onslaught. Booed out
by anyone who was not familiar with either Laura’s musical background nor her
petulance and wouldn’t have cared anyway, and indeed by some who were glad to
have a chance to show her what they thought of her, Laura soon retired defeated
to the back of the saloon and went home soon after, unnoticed except by Dorothy,
who was confident that a repeat performance of Laura’s one-time vocal prowess would
not be forthcoming. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah’s dream had come true. Mitch and Joe stayed on to
help run the enterprise and vie for her affections. When the karaoke machine
wasn’t running, Joe would entertain everyone with sad Russian ballads and arias
and eventually owned up to his origins. Delilah was flattered and touched by
their attentions and played them off against one another shamelessly with the
skills gained during her stint in operetta and elsewhere. And if there was
speculation about who was with whom and why, she didn’t care. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-69331578693672151462016-02-06T12:06:00.000-08:002017-01-24T12:17:18.565-08:0032 - How to upset the applecart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert phoned the vicar and told him he had a problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip said he’d be over right away, thinking it must be
another lovers’ tiff, though dealing with lovers’ tiffs was not one of his favourite
interventions, since he was invariably out of his depth in emotional situations.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>As usual, he phoned Dorothy for moral support. Edith had
been listening in and was annoyed when her husband merely told her that he had
something urgent to see to and could she keep his supper warm. He left before
she could ask any questions, but the vicar had no inkling of what it was all
about, so asking him would have been futile, anyway. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time the vicar had peddled up to Cleo’s cottage, Dorothy
was waiting for him there and wondering why a desperate appeal had been issued
to the vicar by Robert and why it was so desperate that the vicar had begged
Dorothy to support him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As far as Dorothy knew, things were going well in Cleo’s
household. But she was curious. As a precaution she had brought a bottle of bubbly
with her. It just might be something worth celebrating.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert answered the door and led them hastily into the
living-room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Without any kind of preamble, Gloria announced that she was
leaving the following Friday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since neither the vicar nor Dorothy Price had the faintest
idea what Gloria had been up to, they rightly assumed that she was just going home
to Chicago. Cleo was not eager to explain the reason for Gloria’s departure,
but Dorothy, who never failed to notice if something was amiss, started asking
questions and Cleo found herself revealing the discovery of the body, its
identification and Gloria’s misadventure in Birmingham, all of which shocked Mr
Parsnip to the core and thrilled Dorothy almost as if it had been a Hollywood
movie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My dear ladies, you have been going through a very
distressing time,” the vicar began, and Robert thought he should be sympathetic
when all he himself wanted was to stop wasting time and get on to the real
reason for summoning him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s like this, Mr Parsnip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicar was still bemoaning the fate of the dead women.
Robert had moved on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To cut a long story short, we want to get married next
Wednesday afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, how romantic,” sighed Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My dear boy, I’m delighted, but why such short notice?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So that Gloria can be here, Mr Parsnip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Dorothy said, beaming at
everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo wished she could share everyone’s enthusiasm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you do it?” Robert wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, funerals always take place at short notice, so it
will be a nice change to have a wedding to do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s settled then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But why Wednesday afternoon?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t deprive my customers of their dinners, Mr Parsnip.
It’s too late to get anyone to stand in for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I have to train our new assistant at the library. It’ll
only be her third day and Clare really needs help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought Clare was going to carry on for a while.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Definitely not. I can’t have her giving birth between the
shelves.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip nodded wisely, though he had not understood
everything. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll make a list of to do’s and let you know,” the vicar
proposed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is that a yes?” Gloria inquired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yes, yes, yes. Delighted,” Said the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith would have been surprised to witness the animation in
Mr Parsnip’s voice. For a moment, he was his old self.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That seemed to be all that could be dealt with that evening.
After more felicitations and a glass of the sparkling wine that Dorothy had
been hugging until that moment, she announced that she had a movie to watch and
Mr Parsnip remembered that he would need to collect his thoughts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicar walked Dorothy and his mountain bike to her front
door, congratulated her on having the presence of mind to bring a bottle to the
meeting, and then pushed his bike home to the vicarage since he was a little
light-headed after the alcohol. He was already mapping out a really ripping
wedding sermon. He hadn’t felt so energized for months and even Edith, who had
spent her husband’s absence making jam and doing the ironing, was given an
elated account of the evening. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite her forthcoming nuptials, Cleo did manage to get to
Romano’s that lunchtime. She and Gary made love for a long time before Cleo was
forced to tell him that she had almost been framed into marrying Robert the
following Wednesday. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary was horrified.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You didn’t say you would, did you, Cleo? What about us?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There will still be us, Gary. I could not disappoint Robert
and my mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What has your mother got to do with it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She wants to see me married before she goes back to Chicago
on Friday week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That really takes the biscuit,” said Gary, shocked at
Cleo’s reasoning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Look Gary, you are still married. What difference does it
make to us if I am also married? I can’t see a problem.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK. I give up. You are marrying that guy although you don’t
love him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I care about him, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You seem to care more about him that about me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t. When you are divorced, ask me to marry you and
I’ll say yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But we’ll have the same situation as now, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No we won’t, Gary, but we will know if our love can stand
the wait. For me it’s an adventure right now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you will still meet me, won’t you, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll knock you sideways with our lovemaking, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You do that now, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary had to make do with the arrangement. He wanted to share
his life with Cleo, but he would have to wait, and trust that Cleo would not
change her mind when she had got used to being married to a boring man with
little education and no culture to speak of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The days before the wedding flew past and some quite
intricate arrangements were made, though everyone agreed that things should be
kept simple. Gareth Morgan did not need to be persuaded to serenade the
proceedings with suitable classical compositions played with all the stops out,
and Mr Parsnip, remembering that Cleo was not a fervent believer, based his
sermon on a Japanese type poem rather than a biblical saying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the first day<br />
of the rest of our short lives.<br />
Let the sun shine on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually, the poem had been on a party cracker Edith had scrapbooked
after attending a rather posh wedding a long time ago, but it served the
purpose and the vicar was moved to tears by his own interpretation while
battling with his conviction that the sun shines in rather than on. Prepositions
could make such a vital difference to what one was saying. He concocted the
mantra ‘sun on your head, sun in your heart’ to restore the prepositional
balance in his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was tearful because she was almost happy despite her
longing for Gary, and Gloria was crying like she did at any movie that had a
happy ending. Robert was not tearful, but since the idea of Cleo preferring
someone else, that detective inspector for instance, would not go away, he was
anxious to get the ceremony over with. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing, but nothing could have prepared anyone for what
happened that Wednesday afternoon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The marriage ceremony was going to be a simple affair. A
week is not long enough for elaborate preparations. In the end, Robert could
not be persuaded to sing, but Gloria could. Cleo was dubious. Her mother’s
choice of ‘Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen’ was unfortunate. Gloria argued
that they must never forget their forefathers, even on happy occasions. All spirituals
had a note of pessimism, sung as they were in captivity from which there was
little chance of escape. But Cleo would enjoy hearing a song she had loved as a
child, wouldn’t she? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, get it over with at the beginning,” Cleo acquiesced,
not wanting to hurt her mother. Cleo had been a quiet little girl who listened
to the melancholy strains of the spirituals thoughtfully and never burst into
song herself. She had inherited none of her mother’s flamboyance, which is why
she fitted in so well with the quiet ticking away of time in Upper Grumpsfield.
It must be in her genes, Gloria had long since decided. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It had taken a lover of Gary’s stature to awaken the passion
in Cleo, but no one should get to know about that passion or the lover. The
only person with whom she had spoken about it was Clare, and Clare could be
trusted not to say anything. If anyone hazarded a guess, that was their
problem. Had she realized that Robert was in fear of Gary Hurley taking Cleo
away from him, she would not have felt the same sympathy for the man she had
decided to marry since he would then be on the level of an opportunist. But she
did not know and Robert was hardly likely to put that bee in her bonnet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So Cleo went down the aisle to a tune that had its origins
in the desire for freedom from slavery, much to Karl von Klippen’s amusement as
he stood next to Robert, who was nervous and had already asked him three times
about the rings. Not that marriage meant slavery, but it did have its
obligations, such as Karl’s impending fatherhood, about which situation Karl
never ceased to be amazed. Robert thought differently about children. He and
Cleo never discussed the possibility. Robert decided that in view of her past
experience Cleo did not want any and that was a decision he wanted and would
have to live with. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gareth Morgan was unhappy that his Mendelssohn had been
spurned in favour of ‘African’ music, but vowed to make up for it with a
spirited rendering of the well-known chunk of Lohengrin at the close of the
service. All feelings of frustration had been eclipsed by his relief that Robert,
his landlord, was going to be permanently involved with Cleo and would
therefore never need to reclaim the flat above the shop. Mr Morgan had the
meanwhile made it as homely as he thought it should be, with one or two pieces
of furniture left to him by his mother’s spinster sister and delivered from
Wales by some of his Gareth-bach friends, who had not forgotten to include a
quantity of home brewed ale to celebrate the house improvements. The visions of
being thrown out at the drop of a hat had vanished into thin air. Mr Morgan had
definitely arrived. His next mission would be to find a mate to share his nest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sitting at the back of the church clutching the obligatory
box of tissues in case her emotions overcame her, Edith was relieved that everything
was going to plan. Mr Parsnip was in great form for the first time in weeks,
not least because he was happy to see Cleo and Robert coming together after all
their trials and tribulations. He embroidered his introduction with flowery
epithets, included several renderings of the cracker poem, and smiled
magnanimously throughout. Cleo and Robert exchanged meaningful glances. Mr
Parsnip had not told them about his lengthy and undue lyrical preamble. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The order of service was traditional, so it also included
asking those present if the marriage could go ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s where it all came unstuck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I object”, called a voice from the back of the church.
Edith had noticed a woman sitting in the shadows on the opposite side from
where she was sitting, but had given her no further attention. Strangers did
sometimes turn up at weddings. They usually sat well away from the congregation
and kept quiet throughout the proceedings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a stunned silence. In all the years Mr Parsnip had
presided at weddings, this had never happened before. How to deal with such an
incident was not part of his preacher training, but he had heard of such intrusions
happening elsewhere; sometimes it was a prank, sometimes a jilted lover or ex,
but seldom a genuine complaint. However, the vicar could not proceed without
finding out to which category this intrusion belonged.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith watched in
horror as the woman, who had stood up to speak, walked down the aisle, removed
her headscarf and added in a cool voice “He is not free to marry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert had already swung round and was as pale as the ghost
he thought he was seeing. The woman was dressed entirely in black and had
startling auburn hair. She was about his age.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rita?” Robert gasped. “It can’t be you. You’re dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who’s dead, Robert?” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was more than just perplexed. How could you look at
someone standing not 3 yards away and very much alive and pronounce them dead?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who is she?” Gloria hissed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip stepped down and walked towards the strange
woman. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are you, my dear? Have you got proof of your claim?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To be truthful, the vicar was out of his depth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I’ve got proof. Here it is: our marriage
certificate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo felt faint. Delilah took her arm and led her to the
front pew. Robert looked around hoping it was all just a fata morgana. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip examined the document minutely before announcing in
a shaky voice that it seemed genuine. At that Cleo jumped up and snatched it.
It didn’t take her long to sum up the situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Robert, you’re still married to that woman.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They told me she was dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who told you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Her father told everyone. You must believe me, Cleo. I had
no idea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know what to believe.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let me tell you all about it before you judge me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s a bit late in the day for confessions, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria intervened, desperate to do something to alleviate
the situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come on Cleo. You don’t think Robert would deliberately
mislead you, or risk getting himself into trouble, do you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think anything, Mother. I’m too shocked to think. All
I know is that this wedding ceremony is a farce.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now it was Mr Parsnip’s turn to make a suggestion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s talk it over in the vestry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, let’s do that.” said Gloria whose curiosity was
getting the better of her. “I’d like to hear the truth before I leave.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re not the only one, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip announced to the rest of the congregation that
the marriage ceremony had had to be postponed. Then he led the woman named
Rita, Cleo and Robert, Delilah and Dorothy, who were the witnesses, Gloria and
Edith, Karl and Clare into the vestry. What had been planned as a Champagne
toast to bride and groom before all they made their way to Delilah’s pub, where
a wedding feast awaited them, turned out to be a moratorium on what had happened
a long time ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Realizing that it was up to her to straighten things out,
Rita wasted no more time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We eloped, you see,” she began. “We were very young and my
father was against Robert because he was only the son of a tradesman and my
father was a school director.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert intervened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My father was an honest Welshman who earned an honest
living supplying people like your father with prime cuts of meat, Rita.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know that, Robert. I married you, remember?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You were only eighteen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And you weren’t much older.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We decided to go to Scotland. Gretna Green. That’s where
people eloped to in those days.<sub> </sub>By the time my father found out it
would be too late to stop us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He must have smelt a rat, however. He was waiting for us
when we got back,” Robert continued. ”He wouldn’t let me into the house. He imprisoned
Rita and he threatened to ruin my family if I tried to make contact with her. He
would have the family business burnt down, he said. I’ll never forget that.
There were enough people who owed him a favour. He talked more like a Mafia
boss than a school director. I was really afraid. I had to protect my family at
all costs. So I packed and left Shrewsbury, where it all happened, without
explaining why or saying where I was going. I thought that was to only way I
could be sure nothing terrible would happen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rita took up the story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My mother tried her best to negotiate, but she was as
frightened of my father as I was. I didn’t hear anything about Robert again
until I came back to this country a few days ago. I visited his family and they
told me where I could find him. I wanted to ask him why he had deserted me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you mean, you came back?” Gloria wanted to know. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My father packed me off to New Zealand to stay with a
distant cousin of his. I’d never heard of her. I was in disgrace, but I didn’t
tell anyone I was married until.... Well anyway, my mother deserted my father
soon after and joined me in Christchurch. To our relief, he never tried to
patch things up. For all we know, he was glad to be rid of both of us. We neither
knew nor cared. A few months later he wrote to say that he had let it be known
that his wife and daughter had been killed in a car accident, so would we
please refrain from making any contact with him in future. I expect he came to
believe the story himself in time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, we had no intention of having anything more to do
with my father. His cousin told us he’d always had a violent temper and been
difficult as a child. Her family had built a new life in New Zealand and she
had no desire to ever see him again. She supported us until my mother was
working and earning a decent salary and she promised to shield us if he were ever
to turn up. But he didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s a terrible story,” said Gloria. “What an awful man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“At least he didn’t try to get my mother to go back to him
on some kind of pretext. She’d been through enough hell. My father was a Jekyll
and Hyde.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I heard the news of your ‘deaths’ from my family the
following Christmas. I thought I had been estranged from them long enough, so I
patched things up and they took me in like the Prodigal Son. Imagine how I felt,
having to keep my grief to myself,” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never told anyone that we were married, and I learnt to
cope with your death, too, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My death?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My father was Satan in person.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“God forgive him,” said Mr Parsnip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If there is a God, which I doubt, I would hope that he does
not forgive the villains of this world,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So you believed all that time that I was dead, Rita?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, and for 28 years my father lived on in the knowledge
that he had to all intents and purposes killed off his wife and daughter. No
one in Wales ever guessed the truth. He died last month and all members of the
family still alive were notified, including his distant cousin in New Zealand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe he did have some vestige of conscience, after all,” said
Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think he just wanted to have the last laugh. But it
misfired. My mother is living quite contentedly in Christchurch. She very soon found
a job as an infant teacher and was later head of her nursery school until she
retired. She has no desire to come back and be reminded of the hell she went
through with my father. So I came instead to wind up the estate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ve certainly wound up my estate,” remarked Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not here to spoil things for you, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ve done that already.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was not sure that she was telling the truth. She was
simply going with the flow. Gary would have told her to get out now, but Robert
was so stricken with the emotional turmoil he was going through that she could
not simply get up and leave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I haven’t. This is just a little upset, but I have stopped
Robert committing bigamy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought I was a widower. For 28 years I’ve thought I was
a widower. I grieved for you until Cleo came into my life and I thought I could
forget all that unhappiness at long last.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You could get that teenage marriage annulled,” suggested Dorothy,
who had listened with baited breath to the story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, that’s not possible, although Jim, my partner in New
Zealand, would be delighted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Presumably he knows you’re married, then,” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yes. And so does ...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rita hesitated. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her reticence did not escape Gloria’s notice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If there’s something else you need to tell us, do it now,
Rita. You’ll feel better and we can all get on with our lives.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria is right,” said Dorothy. “Whatever it is, just spit
it out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rita took quite some time to reach a decision. She had never
tried to contact Robert because at first she had thought he wanted nothing more
to do with her, and then the news of his death had reached her. Now she knew
the truth it was time to get everything cleared up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, to cut a long story short, an annulment of the marriage
would be impossible for one very good reason. Her name’s Julie and she’s 28
years old.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That provoked a long gasp from everyone present.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have a daughter?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There was no one else in my life at that time, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t mean it like that. I believe you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’s very like you, Robert. You would be hard put to
disown her.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not going to. Where is she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In London. She doesn’t know I’m here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How did you know we were here?” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I phoned the registry office for Robert’s address and they
told me he was getting married today.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can I meet my daughter?” Robert asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll phone her. I can’t make that decision for her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I understand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what happens now?” Delilah asked. She had watched and
listened without commenting, but there was a wedding reception waiting for the
guests. Surely they could agree to carry on regardless. The minor detail of
actually getting married could be tagged on later, much later if necessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert looked at Cleo. It was for her to decide. He felt no
emotion at all towards Rita, except relief to know she was alive. Cleo had been
watching carefully for any show of affection between them, but there had been none.
She sighed deeply. She wished Robert and Rita would by some miracle find love
again and free her for Gary. Then she went to Rita and offered her hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s such a strange situation, Rita. Will you change your
mind about the divorce?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sure that you and Robert belong together now and I
belong in New Zealand and will be glad to get back there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
“And so say all of us,” was all Mr Parsnip could add. He
supposed it was as happy an ending as they could expect to a painful afternoon.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
***</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite the marriage ceremony not having gone ahead, Delilah’s
suggestion that they go through with the wedding reception, which would be an
enormous spread at her pub and give her the chance of trying out all the karaoke
equipment on real customers before its launch the following Saturday, was
followed eagerly, not least to let the day end on a positive note after all the
drama. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rita had taken her leave, in a hurry to get back to sorting out
the family estate in Shrewsbury. She assured Robert that her lawyer would file
for divorce immediately. Robert would receive the papers and need only sign
them, since they were not going to fight over anything. Julie would phone him
if she wanted to meet him, and they could arrange something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was all quite simple really. Rita had forgotten her
disappointment that he hadn’t looked for her all those years ago. Cleo decided
that in the light of Rita’s gracious conduct and eagerness to end the ill-fated
marriage as fast and agreeably as possible, she would think of her as a friend
rather than a rival and go through with her marriage to Robert for his sake. Robert
was still trying to cope with his emotions. <o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Gill Sans MT","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-29604696299024328492016-02-05T11:30:00.003-08:002017-01-24T11:29:53.064-08:0031 - Mission impossible<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was nervous, but did not panic. Panic was OK for
trivialities, she knew. It was hard thinking that was needed now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>She realized that making a fuss might force Gregor and the
Rossi woman to do something they would all regret. She would keep a low profile
and hope that someone would notice she was missing and start looking for her. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a while, Gregor brought her a tray of edibles and a fresh
pot of coffee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We aren’t planning to hurt you, Mrs Hartley,” he told her. “It’s
unfortunate that you came here, but we won’t keep you here longer than
necessary, I promise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are you hiding me from?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The person who jammed that hypodermic needle into Sandra
Rossi’s neck, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was still wondering how they could know the cause of
Sandra Rossi’s death, seeing as the police had been baffled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘A jab?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s normal procedure, Mrs Hartley. We told you that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Since when is murder normal? And why would he – or she –
want to do that to me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To silence you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I don’t know anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They don’t know that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They? You mean there’s more than one of them?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So I have to stay here until whoever it is caught or at
least put out of action?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It might come to that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman who looked so much like Sandra Rossi entered the
room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We have work to do, Gregor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was attending to our guest, Lauretta.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that was her first name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman did not seem to mind that her name had been
mentioned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lauretta? You look so like Sandra.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s why she’s dead, Mrs Hartley. It should have been
me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you are not from Middlethumpton.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. Sandra went to live there because she thought she would
be safe.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Safe from what, for heaven’s sake?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was nothing if not persistent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lauretta Rossi and Gregor exchanged glances. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK. You might as well know what it’s all about. It won’t
make any difference now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lauretta Rossi did not tell the whole story, but she did
reveal that Sandra had been in a relationship with a man she met in London, someone
you would have taken for a businessman. But that’s hardly the right word to
describe someone who trades in weapons, young women and drugs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But that’s terrible.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The day came when Sandra had to make a choice. She left him
without any warning and moved into the apartment in Middlethumpton that I had
found for her. She cut herself off from everything. I was the only person who
knew where she was. She could trust me, of course. I helped her financially.
Our likeness helped. It had always been considered uncanny.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I suppose it was you I saw on the street sometimes then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. That’s how I know who you are, Mrs Hartley. Sandra did
not want to get too friendly in case you noticed that there were two of her, so
to speak.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That knowledge silenced Gloria effectively.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Then she was traced to Middlethumpton by the gang working
for the man she had left. She phoned me the day before she was killed to say
she had recognized one of them lurking outside her house. She was terrified.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So why did she go out shopping? She was found dead in a changing
room at a fashion store.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know the answer to that. We think someone lured her
there, probably imitating my voice. We could not be seen together at the flat
for obvious reasons.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You mean that I would notice?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not just you, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But why would anyone want to kill her? She had left London
and surely she was not dangerous for them since she had cut herself off
completely.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But they thought they were killing me, Mrs Hartley. I work
for MI6 and they must have found that out, too. They have a strategy for
getting rid of people like me. They kill our friends and relatives first as a
warning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you said they thought you were her. So they thought
they were killing the person they wanted to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“’You have a point there, Mrs Hartley, but I’m speculating
on most of this, including any role you might play.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria now thought that she was reliving some sort of
childhood nightmare, with shadows on walls and footsteps on the stairs.
Lauretta Rossi looked anxious, as well she might.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you keep all that to yourself? You see, we cannot work
effectively if someone outside our department knows who we are, and that
includes the police. Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course. I won’t say a word to anyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you do, you and your family will be in deep trouble.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m in enough trouble now, Miss Rossi. I took Sandra’s
diary from her bedside cupboard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was probably a good move, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s how I found your phone number.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where is the book now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria drew the little book out of a pocket in the lining of
her jacket. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’d better take it,” she said. “I’d prefer it not to be
found on me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why didn’t you dispose of it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought I might need it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You won’t. It’s actually mine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I phoned all the numbers before yours.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was not a good idea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How was I to know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You couldn’t have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One more question, Miss Rossi. If no one knows you work for
MI6, or Interpol, or whatever, how come Sandra was identified as you? How did
the gangsters find out about you in the first place?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We think Sandra must have shown her friend in London a
photo with both of us on it, or someone found one among her personal
possessions. I don’t know how much Sandra talked about us, but we are sure that
killing her was a warning to all my colleagues that they were onto us. Sandra
was not interested in revenge or betrayal and in the end the corpse could have
been either of us. You confirmed that with your identification.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So as I understand it, Sandra was not in your organization.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. But Sandra was naïve and talkative. We think they moved
in as soon as they had traced her to Middlethumpton. The boyfriend was probably
not the assassin since seeing him would have alarmed her enough for her to take
steps to disappear and cover her tracks except that she did not have time to do
so, and that was part of the plan, I assume. The killer will have worked from a
photo of us both and moved in as soon as he had his instructions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s horrific.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It gets worse. It’s unlikely that they would kill one of us
and not the other, not least because they probably don’t know which of us is already
dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d identified one as Sandra so she was dead, but you were
not. Are you more important than Sandra was?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That too. That’s one reason why you are a danger to them.
They don’t know if you were aware of Sandra’s double. They don’t know if you
identified me as Sandra on my instructions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In other words, I’m in great danger now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We both are, Mrs Hartley. Gregor and I are leaving here early
tomorrow morning. We will drive to the airport and catch a plane to a
destination I cannot reveal to you for your own safety. You will stay here
until the police find you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if they don’t find me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll make sure they do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria could think of nothing useful to say. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Get some sleep now. You won’t see us again. Don’t try to
get out during the night as you would endanger our movements and possibly your
own life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not going anywhere. You needn’t lock the door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It must be locked. The police must believe you have been a
prisoner.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, aren’t I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It only took Cleo a couple of minutes to get from the
library to HQ. She was glad she was going to see Gary because she was
emotionally confused and needed to confirm to herself that what she felt for
him was genuine. The problem of Gloria should have been uppermost in Cleo’s
mind, but it wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She took the stairs to Gary’s office on the second floor. He
was alone and greeted her with an emotional hug and kisses. At that moment Cleo
almost completely forgot why she was there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You sweep me off my feet,” she said. “I was not sure if I
should believe what happened between us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What happened between us is what happens to lovers,” said
Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never thought of myself as a lover,” said Cleo. “I was
going for safety and comfort when I got involved with Robert. He is not a
sweeping-off-feet sort of guy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I am? You flatter me, Miss Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s the problem. Gary. I’d like to think you mean it all”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Believe me, I mean every word.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what I wanted to hear again,” Cleo replied, now
pulling him into an embrace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You kissed me in full view of that impossible butcher guy,”
said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He had already not believed that I would sleep with you,
Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I knew that’s how he would react.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was astonished. It was like a blessing!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So let’s continue our meeting at Romano’s,” Gary suggested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tomorrow, Gary. I can’t get away today.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK, tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary did not waste words once he got round to the business
of Cleo’s mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We think we know where Gloria is,” he told Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In Birmingham.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s she doing there, for heaven’s sake?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We traced all the phone calls from her flat and the last
one was to a number in Birmingham. After that she didn’t place any more calls
so we deduced that she must have decided that she had traced the right
contact.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you mean by contact?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Most of the calls were to London numbers, one of which
belonged to a drug-dealer we’ve been trying to pin down for some time. Your
mother was playing with fire ringing that number, Cleo. But it wasn’t the last
on the list and presumably no one answered the phone. The problem is that her
number was probably recorded on the recipient’s phone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Unless she had switched that function off, Gary. Where do
you think she found those numbers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We assume that she pocketed a diary or some other notebook
in Rossi’s bedroom. We didn’t find anything of that kind at the flat, or at Mrs
Hartley’s, which is unusual. Most people keep some sort of record of their
contacts, but she didn’t. Don’t you think that’s strange?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t believe my mother would do a thing like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your mother seems to be a resourceful sort of person. Wherever
she is now, she must still have that list of contacts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So there’s a chance she might call some of the numbers she
did not get through to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, and that would increase the danger she’s already in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you know where she is, Gary. Can’t you get her out?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We only think we know, Cleo, on the basis of her having
called one number after another until she got a positive reaction and decided
to follow it up, I can’t think of any other explanation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Always assuming my mother was thinking as objectively as
you are, my love.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary broke into his report.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What did you say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If my divorce was through we’d get married next week and
that would be the end of any doubts, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I will – assuming that was a proposal.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I‘ll keep you to that, Miss Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I sincerely hope so one day, Mr Hurley!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In the meantime we have the address to which that phone
number belongs, but we are moving in very cautiously. Mrs Hartley could be
strapped to a bomb, for instance. We need to know more before we break into the
house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a whole row of many-times thumbed Mickey Spillane paperbacks
at the library. Useful reading if you wanted to find out what went on the in minds
of criminals. There was less comment on the feeling of relatives. When she
wrote a book, she would take that into consideration, Cleo mused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t I do anything? I feel so helpless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Cleo. We’ll take care of your mother, rest assured.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If no one else does first. I know my mother is a bit of a
busybody, but this really takes the biscuit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The phone on Hurley’s desk rang. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was Birmingham. The house your mother is probably
being kept at belongs to someone called Smith. Presumably not the real name.
According to neighbours, Smith is quite a young man. A bit foreign looking –
Greek or Italian. He claims to be a private investigator, but no one really
knows anything significant about his activities or about the woman who
sometimes stays there. That said, Cleo, people commuting to and from suburbs
are more interested in their own anonymity, so they tend not to pry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And Gloria?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Probably in the house, but a car was seen driving off at
dawn, so we aren’t sure where your mother is now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who saw that car at five o’clock in the morning?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The milkman, Cleo. My colleagues up there are leaving no
stone unturned.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A very observant milkman,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Apparently a self-styled amateur sleuth. Works hand in hand
with the guy delivering papers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought little boys did that,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The news agent apparently does the first round so that
commuters can get the paper before they leave the house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And he also saw the car leaving.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It seems so. The colleague in charge of the Birmingham team
is going round neighbours showing photos of Sandra Rossi. If she spent time
there, it would establish a connection.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The phone rang again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Bingo. That woman was Sandra Rossi, Cleo. She was seen going
into the house a few days ago. “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But she’s been dead since Monday,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what we thought, but you know how the memory can
play tricks. For all we know, it was a week ago or longer that the woman was at
the house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The phone rang for the third time and this time Gary looked distraught.
He made notes while he was talking. When he had hung up he sat in silence for
several minutes. He consulted his database about the car registration number he
had written down during the phone-call, while Cleo waited with baited breath. Gary
finally reassured her that the news he had just received was not about her
mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But this business is extraordinary, Cleo. If I’m honest, I
don’t know what to make of it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo waited expectantly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A car has exploded just outside Birmingham airport. It was
probably cause by a bomb, but a bit of a damp squid. The man was thrown clear,
but the woman, who was driving, did not survive. The car did not go up in
flames, so the police was able to retrieve some luggage and the travel
documents. The woman’s passport was made out in the name of Sandra Rossi.
They’re emailing me her passport photo and the one of the man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But Sandra Rossi is dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your mother identified her, Cleo. She could have made a mistake.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary printed the photo of the dead woman. He put the photo
of the dead woman Gloria had identified as Sandra Rossi on his desk and placed
the printout of the second Sandra Rossi next to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But this is the same woman,” exclaimed Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Or her double.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Or her twin,” suggested Cleo. “If this woman visited the
woman my mother thought was Sandra Rossi, my mother might even have seen both
of them at some time or other, but never together.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s one explanation. But why did the woman in the car
have Sandra Rossi’s passport?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Because she is Sandra Rossi and the dead woman is someone
else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Or this other woman is using Sandra Rossi’s passport for
reasons we do not yet know. We need to know more about the couple in the car.
Where they were going? What was in their luggage? Was it their car? Who could
have wanted to kill them? How did the man manage to survive?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you have a photo of him, Gary?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll print it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo had never seen the guy before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll have to wait for all the personal data to be run
through the databases available to us, Cleo. I don’t think there any point in
your waiting here. I’ll phone you when I have news.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK, but please keep me informed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I still have one more damning piece of information, Cleo.
It came in just before you came. It might be important.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m curious!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The forensic report on the dead Rossi woman confirmed that
she was killed by a fast-working lethal substance injected into her shoulder. A
tiny bruise revealed where the needle went in. She didn’t stand a chance. An
attack like that takes only seconds and the poison works almost instantly.
Someone followed her into the store and murdered her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo thought it would be a long time before she ventured
into that fitting-room again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But who dumped her in that yard, Gary?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wish I could answer that. <span lang="FR">Je t’aime, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="FR">“Moi aussi,
Gary.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo went back to the library, but she was quite unable to
concentrate on her work. Finally she left Clare in charge and on impulse returned
to Gary’s office. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s happened, Cleo? You look all done in. I’ll get you
some coffee.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thanks. I could not sit in that library any longer. Clare
is there for the rest of the day. Have there been any developments?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’re moving fast now. I know how you feel. This department
sees a lot of drama... And if I’m not mistaken, there’s one coming down the
corridor now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That comment heralded the unexpected arrival of Gloria
Hartley, who had enjoyed a thrilling flight in a police helicopter. She was
overjoyed to see Cleo, despite having a guilty conscience about going expressly
against her daughter’s instructions and getting herself into a dangerous
situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Am I glad to see you, Mother, but don’t ever do anything
like that again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s always a mistake not to tell people where you are
going, Mrs Hartley,” said Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I know that now, Mr Hurley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Call me Gary then, officially. I’m really glad to see you
alive and well and. I’m sure you’re going to tell us the whole story, aren’t
you, and if my suspicions are right, you’ve actually helped to crack a case the
colleagues have been baffled about for ages.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have? You can call me Gloria if we are going to be
friends.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A warning look from Cleo stopped Gary from announcing his
new relationship with her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It was that phone call, you see...” Gloria started.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wait a moment. I’ll have to record our interview, Gloria,
so that the colleagues from the drugs squad are brought up to date on what is
also their case.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over coffee, Gloria retold her adventure. Gary asked a lot
of questions. Gloria was a mine of information, as far as he was concerned.
Cleo thought she might be embroidering some of it, so far-fetched did it all
seem. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So the man named Gregor and the woman named Lauretta were
just protecting you, were they?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So they said. I didn’t see them again. I think I heard a
car leaving. It must have been about 5 a.m.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you didn’t try to get out, did you, Mother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Cleo. They had warned me not to because it had to look
as if I’d been imprisoned. Anyway, I didn’t want to do anything else I might
regret.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Very wise,” said Gary. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the
latest on the two individuals who kept you prisoner, have you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They got a plane to somewhere. They didn’t tell me where
they were going.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Look at these passport photos,” said Gary, spreading them
out on the table. “Can you confirm who they are?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was fast work. You police guys sure are efficient.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We do our best and sometimes events are forced on us, Gloria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria looked at the photos. She was thinking back to her
brief encounters with Sandra Rossi. The likeness was uncanny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I didn’t know that Sandra Rossi had been murdered I
would think this was a photo of her. But I suppose it is Lauretta, isn’t it? I
recognize the man. That’s Gregor. An awesome guy! I couldn’t decide what the
relationship is between them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Was, Gloria. And his real name is Howard Smith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Was?” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll explain in due course,” said Gary. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He is not dead, Gary. You said so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I did, Cleo, but his days as Gregor are over.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect they are,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Gregor is a better name for him, Gary,” said Gloria. “I
think he mentioned a Russian sounding surname, but I forgot it immediately.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He had two passports on him, one in each name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whatever for?” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In their line of business it’s useful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What line?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Espionage, Gloria. I thought you’d have guessed by now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know what to think from the moment Sandra Rossi’s
double appeared in that doorway.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The name on the passport belonging to this photo is Sandra
Rossi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s about as weird as it can get, Gary. I thought I had identified
that lady in the mortuary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You might have. On the other hand, it could have been the
lady in Birmingham named Lauretta. DNA tests will quite possibly show that they
are identical twins.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lauretta said they were cousins.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect that was also in aid of protecting the real Lauretta.
On the other hand, they had probably made a sport of swapping identities now
and again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Like Edith and Clare, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A deadly sport in this case,” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How true! I think I should tell you without further delay
that the second twin - whichever that was – met her death this morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You could have heard a pin drop. Cleo came to the rescue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mother, you don’t know just what a lucky escape you’ve had.
If you’d had to go along in that car...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…You might also have been killed, Gloria,” Gary finished.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So the woman who called herself Lauretta was killed in that
car crash. What happened to that Gregor guy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It was not a car crash, Gloria. It was a bomb, but not a
very efficient one. The man you called Gregor was thrown clear. He’s unconscious
in hospital, but he’ll probably live.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is truly a nightmare,” gasped Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what comes of meddling, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t meddle. I just wanted to do the right thing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think for a moment that your actions were connected
with the car bomb, Gloria. It could have been planted before you visited the
house. It was detonated by remote control. I don’t think that whoever planted
that bomb would want it to go off in a quiet suburb. The car carrying the bomb
will have been followed and the bomb detonated on the open road somewhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Awesome, Gary!” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The question now is whether there’s a similar device in the
house. We are speculating on Gregor having organized the assassination of
Sandra Rossi for reasons we have yet to find out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But he was injured by the bomb.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Rossi woman was driving. The bomb was a small one on
the driver’s side.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t believe that, Gary. It’s more likely that someone
had it in for Gregor and thought he would be driving,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My version is more plausible,” said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would working for both sides make him a double agent, Gary?’
Gloria asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“yes Gloria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I just can’t believe that Gregor put a bomb in a car he was
going to travel in,” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s something else we’ll have to deal with. He probably
intended to get out on some pretext or other before it went off, but I’m only speculating
and the bomb was not efficient.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If it’s how you say it was, he was taking a huge risk.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Spies take a lot of risks, Gloria. It’s part of their job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo thought Gloria looked really frightened now. It was
time to get her home, but Cleo was more anxious about her safety than ever, now
she knew so much about the Rossi affair. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if the Rossi woman had stopped the car on some pretext
but had not had time to get out?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We are in the realm of speculation on all this,” Gary said.
“Let’s hope Gregor is willing to talk.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If he does not die first,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There’s a guard on him, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That won’t stop him dying, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you suggest?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Get him to a secret address.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That would take weeks to organize.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rather you than me,” said Cleo. “Do you think anyone else
saw you go in the house, Mother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t see anyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary was sorry he had gone to such lengths to explain the
situation. A warning would have been enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I shouldn’t worry about that, Gloria. The bomb squad will
search the house from top to bottom, just in case, but it’s on the cards that
the car bomb was a deliberate attempt at the second Rossi woman’s life and not
intended for anyone else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I hope you’re right, Gary. I’ve just remembered something
else. Sandra Rossi – the Birmingham one – told me she worked for Interpol or
MI6 or something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She told you that? Spies don’t usually admit to affiliation
with secret service organizations. To be on the safe side, we’ll have to ask
you not to go to your flat for the time being, Gloria. That’s the first place
they’d look for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can stay with us for as long as you need to, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think I’d be safer in Chicago than in Middlethumpton and
I never thought I’d hear myself say that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t exaggerate, Mother. It’s all been a bit much for
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A bit?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know what I mean.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’ll blow over, Gloria,” said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And what if it doesn’t? I was planning to live to a ripe
old age.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And you will if you just keep your eyes skinned for
anything unusual and let us know. We’ll deal with it. That’s what we’re here
for.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My next stop is that Travel Agent’s down the road. I’ll clear
out of here for a few weeks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s probably a good idea, Gloria. But just wait a
moment. An officer will accompany you there and to your daughter’s house. In
plain clothes, of course.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A bodyguard?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sort of.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was impressed. Cleo was now alarmed. How serious was
the situation?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Gary,” she felt bound to say. “We’ll just go by
ourselves. We’d be even more conspicuous with a bodyguard in tow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You have no choice, Cleo. Your cottage is already under
surveillance in Upper Grumpsfield. Surely you can’t object to that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not if you’re inconspicuous, though I’m not sure my partner
will be overjoyed. What do you expect to happen?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s just a precaution.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time Cleo and Gloria, accompanied by a young
policeman who was more nervous than they were had sorted out a last minute
flight to Chicago and called in at the library to check that Clare was coping,
Cleo felt a bit calmer. They took a taxi back to Upper Grumpsfield, chatting
with the bodyguard almost like old friends, which was exactly the right impression
to make. A neutral looking car was already parked across the road from Cleo’s
cottage. A plain clothes policeman got out, showed them his ID card and
reassured them that the car was ‘one of ours’. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo phoned Gary and told him the car was too conspicuous.
He laughed and told her it would be gone by morning. They had identified the
gang that probably murdered the woman Gloria had identified as Sandra. The
London colleagues were rounding them up. They would be charged and kept under
lock and key. He did not think that Gloria was now a target.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But what about Interpol? Aren’t they mixed up in it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, but they know who works for them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bodyguard received instructions that he could return to
base soon. Gloria looked quite disappointed. She had taken a liking to the
young policeman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Robert got home he was puzzled about the car parked
across the road from the cottage. It was fortunate that he had not forgotten
his door key, otherwise he would certainly have found himself in the
uncomfortable situation of being marched off the premises. Cleo put him in the
picture about the house surveillance and introduced him to the young copper,
who was sitting demurely in the corner of the living room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite, or maybe because the situation was so dramatic that
Gloria now had a bodyguard, though only for a short time, Robert was shocked to
the core at Gloria’s account of her misadventure. She told him she would be
going ‘home’ very soon. She was sorry she would have to miss the wedding, but
she had managed to book a flight to Chicago for the following Friday. She would
feel safer there. There was no way she was going to stick around as a sitting
target for some assassin or other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert smiled broadly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well that settles it, doesn’t it, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Settles what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll have to get married before your mother leaves.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Astonishment all round and panic as far as Cleo was
concerned. How could she refuse to marry Robert after they had been planning
for so long and how could she marry Robert when she was in love with Gary?
Robert was amazed at his own daring. Gloria was delighted and touched at the
suggestion. There was only one way to go, thought Cleo, and that was to use
delaying tactics.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s impossible, Robert. It gives us only a few days,” she
said. “How are we going to get it organized?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll manage,” said
Robert, and Cleo knew that she would have to go through with it. She felt like
the heroine in a Regency romance and wondered what you wore for what was
developing into a sort of shotgun wedding. A crinoline would hardly be an
option.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-20481075975618579302016-02-05T10:23:00.003-08:002017-01-24T12:11:23.607-08:0030 - Gloria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra Rossi’s death and feeling guilty about not confiding
in Cleo kept Gloria awake for most of Tuesday night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the one hand, she knew that meddling was wrong and on the
other it was her public duty to find out why her neighbour had met such a
tragic fate. And yet again, she did not want to broadcast her possession of
that diary. What was worse, for all she knew her phone might already be being
tapped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It should be said that none of these considerations made
Gloria less curious and less likely to look for some answers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Blissfully unaware of what her mother was up to, Cleo went
to work as usual. On Wednesdays the library only opened in the morning, so she
would have the rest of the day to decide what to do next. She wondered if it was wise to mention the
subject to Robert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo should have reacted to the warning sign. The glint in
Gloria’s eyes was unmistakeable. Surely she would not investigate off her own bat.
Gloria had likened herself to a private investigator on more than one occasion
and assured Cleo that she would be ready to step in if and when Cleo decided to
take the idea of opening a detective agency further. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With the birth of her babies only weeks away, Clare had
taken the morning off and was going to pester the self-styled experts at the
job centre to see if anyone was available to take her place for a few weeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karl von Klippen had said he would jump in if nobody could
be found, but Clare would have liked him to support her rather than the public
library. Even Edith had said she could do hours when the children were at
school, which totally ignored the problem of what you did with babies for the
first four years or so, but might cover the first four months. A vicar’s wife
is at home. Clare could not stay at home and go to her job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was touched by the way Edith and Karl were rallying
round about the library, but the job centre would be put out if they weren’t consulted,
so for the third time in as many weeks, Clare would scour the list of
candidates and maybe there would be someone suitable among them this time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo had only just opened the doors to borrowers when the
phone rang. It was Gary Hurley wanting to know if Cleo had seen her mother that
day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Heavens, no. I don’t see my mother every day, Gary. She’s
very independent. I think she’s at the dance school this morning. Have you
tried there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know your mother was a dancer. Have you got a
phone number for the school?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
”Sure. Gloria’s story is of a show-girl let down by – well
to cut a long story short, my father. He left me the cottage in Upper Grumpsfield.
That’s how I came to be here at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo gave Gary the requested phone number and he rang off.
Ten minutes later he was back in touch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. She didn’t turn up there. Where else can I look? Any
ideas? I don’t want to startle her. Does she have a mobile phone by any chance?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary did not add that he did not want to forewarn Gloria, either.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, she has a cell phone Gary, but I’ll go round to her
apartment when the library closes and see if she has anything on her notice
board. She makes notes of everything. You could meet me there.”’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s a good idea, Cleo. What time can you be there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My assistant is not here this morning but we close here at
one. Could you give me a lift? Otherwise I’ll take the bus, but I don’t know
how often they run.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I collect you at one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary was as good as his word. He was taking a risk, but he
kissed Cleo on the lips in greeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I hope no one saw us,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does it matter?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not to me,” she replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary explained that there was no immediate need to speak to
Gloria. The results of the tests on evidence collected in the dead woman’s flat
were not yet available, but he needed Gloria’s fingerprints so that he could
distinguish them from others in the woman’s flat. This was a diplomatic way of
explaining that he wanted to know if Gloria had been poking around in the dead
woman’s flat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did Gloria turn up there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. Didn’t she tell you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Gary. She prides herself on her sleuthing and it’s my
fault for not discouraging her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you discourage your mother, Cleo?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t suppose so. I’ve given up trying on other
occasions.” “So you haven’t spoken to her since you left HQ yesterday, have
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. Tell me what she did, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You mother told a wild story to the forensic team who had
not seen her enter because they were in a room with the door shut listening to
the radio. “She told them that she’d been invited to coffee and then left in
rather a hurry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She really is the limit. Sorry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t be sorry. If the case was not so serious I’d find her
very amusing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think Gloria is at all funny. She can be really
awful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anyway, I followed her to her flat and asked her a few
questions. She was cagey, as if she were hiding something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why didn’t she tell me about all that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And she knew the woman’s name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really? She’s up to something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo wanted to tell him that her mother definitely hadn’t
known the woman’s name the day before, but thought better of it. Maybe Gloria
had taken something from the woman’s
apartment and was onto something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Gary put Cleo’s anxiety into words. They would have to
catch up with Gloria as soon as possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you think of anything your mother would do and not tell
you about it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There’s a whole long list of stuff,” said Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was hard luck for Cleo that Robert had also decided to
collect Cleo from the library. They had a free afternoon and could spend it
together. So he witnessed Cleo and the stranger exchanging a kiss and smiles,
and followed Gary’s sleek red car as it wound its way through Middlethumpton to
Gloria’s address. Robert waited for a moment, then climbed the stairs to
Gloria’s flat and rang the bell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert thought he could catch Cleo red-handed with some guy
or other and using Gloria’s flat while she was out. Gary did not use a police
car and did not wear a uniform, so how could Robert know who he was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo opened the door. Gary was taking a long look at
Gloria’s living arrangements.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What are you doing here, Robert?” Cleo asked, extremely surprised
to see him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I followed you in that man’s car, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You did?” said Gary, emerging from Gloria’s bedroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. Cleo was funny last night and now I know why.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“For your information, I am Detective Inspector Gary Hurley
and I brought Cleo here to try to ascertain where her mother is, Mr…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Jones. Did you? Do you always kiss women you hardly know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hardly know?” bluffed Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We always kiss before we start working together, Robert. It
breaks the tension.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You have never kissed me like that,” said Robert, not anxious
to be appeased.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You have never kissed me like that,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary decided to put Robert Jones to the test.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I told you I slept with Cleo and we had marvellous sex,
would you believe me? Is that what you want to hear?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo could have sunk through the floor, but Robert reacted
in the way Gary thought he would.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course not, Mr Hurley. If you really did have sex with
Cleo, you would hardly tell me about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So let’s get it all straightened out, shall we?” said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, please,” said Robert, chastened. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We came here to find Gloria or clues as to where she had
gone, Mr Jones. That’s all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know she was missing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Neither did I, Robert,” said Cleo. “Gary told me and gave
me a lift here. The kiss was a greeting. Gary is the cop who turned up at
Milton’s. He’s a bit forward, I agree.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Am I?” said Gary and Cleo smiled. Gary did not know what
tale Cleo had told Robert after the incident in Milton’s back yard. Somehow it
all seemed to make sense to Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The forensic team needs fingerprints so they can tell if
Gloria was snooping at the house across the road. That’s the home of the corpse
I found, Robert,” Cleo explained.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s a pure coincidence that Cleo is Mrs Hartley daughter,
Mr Jones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You don’t have children that way, Mr Hurley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Even I know that, Mr Jones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was tidy, but her flat was in a chaotic state. It had
obviously been ransacked. Every drawer, every cupboard, the wardrobe, even the
airing cupboard had been turned out. All Gloria’s clothes were strewn on the
floor. Dry goods from the store cupboard had been tipped out. There was no way
of telling what the intruder had been looking for and no one present could
judge if anything was missing or what had been the object of such a thorough
search. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You don’t suppose someone has caught up with her from the
States, do you, Cleo?” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I shouldn’t think so. Apart from Jay, she had no connection
to the underworld, and Jay’s dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So he is.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who is Jay?” Gary asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My later husband, Gary. Both my mother and I made errors of
judgement on that topic. I don’t want my mother to be in any danger, even if
she did make mischief between us. She’s being trying to make up for that fatal
error of judgement ever since.”<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That sounds intriguing, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll tell you about it some time, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I did not know you were into private meetings, Cleo,” said
Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I want to tell Mr Hurley all about my marriage, I will,”
said Cleo and Robert looked subdued. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll go across the road to talk to the forensic team,” said
Gary. They seem to be taking their time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We have a new problem,” Gary told Chris.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you come across to Mrs Hartleys flat when you’ve
finished here? I’d like you to identify the prints of the guy who ransacked the
place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll come with you know, Gary. I don’t know how long I’ll
be at this place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While Gary had been gone Robert and Cleo had not said a word
to one another until Cleo said “I do believe you are jealous, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was mistaken. Sorry,” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d rather you didn’t stalk me when I’m on a case.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wasn’t stalking you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what were you doing at the library?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was not at the library. I delivered steaks to Romano’s
restaurant, if you must know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh,” said Cleo. She knew that Romano was discreet, but
Romano did not know that Robert was her partner. Gary must tell him before he
talked out of turn with Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary returned and introduced Chris to Cleo and Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll take a hairbrush, Gary,” said Chris. “That will give
us the DNA we need.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What so you think can have happened?” Cleo asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think anything yet, Cleo. It’s just a precaution.
We don’t know what your mother did at the flat before she was found there. I’m
going to request a phone report while you’re still here. Maybe that will give
us a lead. You said she phoned you yesterday morning?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure. She phoned from here to tell me about the dead woman,
but did not go into detail and I was busy at the library and did not ask. Then
we met up at HQ. What did you say the dead woman’s name was?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t. Sandra Rossi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sounds Italian:”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It does, doesn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mafia?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not making any assumptions. We don’t yet know how she
died. At the moment I’m more worried about where your mother has gone than
where Sandra Rossi came from. Does Mrs Hartley go anywhere else apart from the
dance school?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe she does, but she doesn’t tell me everything, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary logged into the internet on his tablet. It did not take
long to get an account of all phone calls to and from Gloria’s house phone and
mobile during the last four weeks. Apart from calls to Cleo at home and at the
library, Robert’s shop and the dancing school, there was nothing much to go on
except for a number of miscellaneous phone calls made only the previous day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“These calls were all made on her house phone last night, Cleo,”
he said, showing her the list. “Do you recognize any of the numbers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo looked at the list. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. I have no idea why my mother would
phone those numbers. Some of them are to the Continent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll find out more about them and contact you later if I
may.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whatever she has done, Gary, my mother has no criminal
energy at all and she is incapable of hurting anyone deliberately. I’d give
anything to know where she got those phone numbers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So would I, Cleo. I think it would be a good idea for you
to go home now. Your mother might want to reach you there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She has a cell phone. She can reach me anywhere from
anywhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Only if she can use it, Cleo. But don’t be alarmed. The
battery could have run down. There are any number of reasons why someone does
not get in touch.”<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo’s heart gave a lurch. Her mother’s absence was becoming
sinister. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does that mean we can go now, Mr Hurley,” said Robert, who
had been watching and listening and wondering. To his annoyance, Cleo stepped
up to Gary, put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him again, full on the
lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I hope you don’t expect me to do that, too,” Robert said
disapprovingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s a sign of trust, Robert,” said Cleo, and Gary was amazed
that she had the nerve to flaunt what she felt, but he was sure Robert would
either not have understood or would turn a blind eye to the ‘special’
relationship he already had with Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was obliged to drive back to Upper Grumpsfield with
Robert. They did not speak at all during the drive. Cleo had no idea what to do
about her sudden and complete change of heart and Robert was completely out of
his depth at the very idea that Cleo could turn away from him.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc299684025"> <o:p></o:p></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meanwhile Gloria had not only made a decision to follow up
the only phone call that had provided her with anything to go on the previous
evening, but also put her plan into action. A woman had picked the phone up at
the other end, but not given a name. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is that Rossi?” Gloria had asked, starting the dialogue she
had invented for herself. “I’d like to speak to Sandra, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’s out. Who are you, anyway?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since the response to her query was quite obviously a lie,
Gloria felt no compunction about lying back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Theresa West. I have a letter here for Sandra Rossi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you now!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I could send it on to her, but she only left me your phone
number for emergencies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Send it to 42 Winter Street, Birmingham.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria felt she had at last achieved something. Now she had
a contact address, she would make her way there. She supposed the woman was a
relative, but she had forgotten to ask her name. It was too late now. Another
phone call might incite closer questioning and she could not very well report
Sandra Rossi’s death over the phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before Gary Hurley had tried to contact Gloria on Wednesday
morning, she had already boarded a train to Birmingham and was mulling over how
to announce the bad news to those she assumed were Sandra Rossi’s nearest and
dearest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman who came to the door at 42 Winter Street looked
uncannily like the dead woman. Gloria was startled. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s right. We do look alike, Mrs West. But Sandra and I
are only cousins.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t believe it. You look like identical twins.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cousins, Mrs West,” the woman emphasized. “Have you brought
the letter? Why didn’t you post it? You’d better come in for a moment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria had no letter, of course, but she fumbled in her
handbag to bridge the unpleasant pause as she was led into an artificially lit
back room. She was starting to feel afraid. Something was wrong with the
situation. The woman looked up and down the street before closing the front
door. Had she lied about her relationship with Sandra Rossi?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The letter, please,” the woman repeated. She spoke with the
same faint foreign accent as Sandra Rossi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sorry, but there is no letter. It was an excuse to get
into contact with someone who knows her and is, I can see now, a relative.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t like being tricked, Mrs West.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria ignored the comment. She had to finish breaking her
news. It was even more difficult than she had feared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You see, Sandra Rossi is.....dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a long silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dead? How do you know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I identified her at the police station.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you sure?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She was found dead in a fashion store, Miss Rossi”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman still showed no trace of emotion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you quite sure?” the woman repeated, and this time
Gloria thought she could hear a sob in the voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I’m sure. I’d like to go now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not so fast, Mrs West. You could be in acute danger if you
leave now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria thought she was probably in enough danger as it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have to catch my train back.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To Middlethumpton?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the woman knew where she lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to miss that train,
Mrs...err...Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the woman knew her real name. Gloria could feel little droplets
of sweat running down her spine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ll have miss a few trains before we let can you go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I didn’t tell anyone I was coming. No one need know I
was here. I won’t breathe a word, I promise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We know you came here without telling anyone, Mrs Hartley,
but we also know that you would be in danger if you left now. We only want to
protect you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you can’t keep
me here against my will,” Gloria argued.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course we can. This room has been a refuge for several
interim visitors.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you mean prison!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s only a word, Mrs Hartley. I prefer to call it a safe
location.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wish to leave. I am an American citizen and I know my
rights.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You may know them, but you cannot assert them here, Mrs
Hartley. Just calm down! All you have to do is remain here while we conclude
our business. Then it will be safe for you to go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And how long will that take?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know exactly. A day or two. Through that door is a
bathroom. The water is suitable for drinking. We’ll bring you food and fresh
coffee regularly and there’s a pile of magazines you can read. There are some
items of clothing in that cupboard over there. Oh, and a radio, so that you can
hear all about the police searching for you. That will no doubt entertain you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That will certainly not entertain me. I want to go now this
minute.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By now Gloria was almost screaming. A man of about thirty
came in hurriedly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Need help?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Bring some coffee, Gregor. I think this lady needs some
coffee.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The words were said with such emphasis that Gloria deduced
that there was a hidden message. Were they going to poison her? K.O. drops
would be almost as horrific. Gloria would touch no food or drink from them. She
would just drink the tap water. They could hardly manipulate that. Then it
occurred to her that getting hysterical might be even more detrimental to her
wellbeing than being held prisoner for a few days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK. I can see I’m at a disadvantage. What do you want?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s more like it, Mrs Hartley. We don’t want anything.
We are only going to protect you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“From what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yourself, mainly. You were foolish to come here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I only wanted to tell you in person about Sandra
Rossi’s death.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The guy who stuck a hypodermic needle into Sandra’s neck
might decide to do the same to you, Mrs Hartley. He doesn’t know that you know
nothing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria gasped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How do you know how she died? The police didn’t know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s the customary way to dispose of someone who is in the
way, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“For God’s sake, what’s going on here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You don’t need to know that. It would be better for you if
you didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you insist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘Revenge, Mrs Hartley. That’s the name of the game.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Game?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We interfered in Sandra’s ex-boyfriend’s criminal
activities, Mrs Hartley. He was exporting weapons illegally to countries, to
politicians who use them against their own people. That’s all I can tell you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who is we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t tell you that. Just keep a low profile while we do
our job. You’re safe here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria thought keeping a low profile was the least of her
problems right now. She was no longer even sure if she was being kept in or if someone
else was being kept out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman left the room. The man searched through Gloria’s
handbag and removed her mobile phone, checked the bathroom with its high,
barred window, closed its shutter so that the room could not be seen into from
the outside, then followed the Rossi woman out, locking the door behind him.
Gloria was left to her own devices.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo waited for a phone-call from her mother for the rest of
the day. As time went on, she became more and more certain that Gloria was in
some kind of trouble. She baked bagels to take her mind of the horrors she was
imagining. Robert spent hours digging the vegetable patch. It was high time to
start planting and good action therapy. Neither of them felt like discussing Gloria
or anything else for that matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no phone call from Gary and Cleo did not think it
was a good idea for her to contact him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By next morning, after Cleo had spent a sleepless night
speculating on what could have happened to her mother while Robert sawed down a
forest of trees and woke unrefreshed because he only slept properly when Cleo
did, they were both certain that Gloria had indeed gone missing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo got to the library very early and after briefing Clare
on the likelihood of having to do some urgent investigating, she phoned Gary. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You said you’d contact me,” Cleo reproached.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We can’t talk now,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “Can
you come to my office?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just a precaution,” said Gary. “Someone might be tapping
your phone. This whole business stinks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll be over right away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clare was sceptical. Phones don’t usually get tapped at
public libraries, but she sympathized with Cleo. Of course, she wanted to get
to the bottom of her mother’s disappearance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll be fine here. I’ll organize Karl for the rest of the
week and I’ll come in next week to train the new assistant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo felt embarrassed that she had not even asked about
Clare’s visit to the job centre the previous day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Next week?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There was a young woman waiting for an interview when I got
there. On impulse I asked her if she was looking for a job with books and she
said she was. Library work would suit her fine, she said. So we arranged that I
would again tell them what kind of work we are offering and the girl would
describe her application in exactly the same words so that it would get her an
interview here. That way the job centre would be friendly and think they had
found someone a job and we would not have to look any further.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Brilliant, Clare. And the ruse worked?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes. Presumably an easy solution for those at the job
centre.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s she like?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nice. She has just finished university and is looking at
her options. She spent a few months visiting relatives in Australia and is
going to start a teaching job next September, so she’s at a loose end and hard
up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That sounds really great. Well done, Clare. That’s a weight
off my mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So Helen will start next Monday and can stay until she
starts teaching if necessary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did you tell her the pay isn’t good?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yes, but I’m opting out completely for the time being,
Cleo, so she’s can take my job and I’ll be the temp. I’m not sure if we’ll be
staying here much longer. Karl still has his job in Austria – he’s only on a sabbatical
here – so he’ll have to go back, and I don’t want my babies to grow up without
a father. But I’ll wait until well after the birth, of course. Edith can’t wait
to have new-borns in the house again, though we’ve no intention of living there
for ever even if Karl decided to stay permanently. I tell her that getting her
five to school age is already a superhuman achievement, but she lives the idea
of two more to care for.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m so sorry I’ve been distracted, Clare. I’m as thrilled as
could be for you and Karl. We should have talked this through ages ago.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know ages ago, Cleo. Twins are in the family, of
course, but it’s still a huge surprise that it’s happening to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What with one thing and another, she had hardly given
Clare’s situation a thought. She knew from Clare’s hints that the babies were
the happy result of that very first unexpected reunion of Clare and Karl on the
night of the vicarage fire, but the dilemmas and developments in her own
private life had left little room to speculate on anyone else’s. Now she wondered if that first hour or two
with Gary would have the same consequence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She got on really well with Clare and liked Karl, who had
struck up a friendship with Robert, based not least on Karl’s love of high
quality charcuterie and Robert’s newly found love of Austrian cuisine, with
special emphasis on sugary kaiserschmarrn. The men had even started to cook
together, usually at the vicarage because the kitchen at Cleo’s cottage was too
small. They had enjoyed frequent impromptu dinner parties with oodles of
noodles for the boys and a cultural revolution for Edith, with the vicar
tagging along relatively benignly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo had confided in Clare about her love affair. She was
not going to find it easy to combine the sort of life she lived with Robert and
her total change of heart. Cleo wondered if she should try to.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-38601256782671543692016-02-05T09:57:00.001-08:002017-01-24T02:52:52.787-08:0029 - Shopping therapy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the run-up to the launching of Delilah’s venture, Cleo
Hartley took a long look at the contents of her wardrobe and decided it was
time to replenish them since she had simply nothing to wear at the event. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Not
that Cleo was vain or a fashion slave. Women of generous build have less choice
than the thinner varieties and tend to hang on longer to what does fit them.
The fashion prophets seldom include larger sizes in their fashion predictions
and there is a common belief that large people prefer large floral, zigzag or
otherwise overwhelming patterns and sack-like designs. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what really annoys Cleo is that smaller sizes cost less.
As one helpful shop assistant had only recently explained with an unfortunate
lack of diplomacy, larger girths require more material. Clothes are bought by
the inch. With those words ringing in her ears, Cleo had gone home that day
determined to shed half her body-weight, but two days later, tempted by her own
and Robert’s delicious cooking and a look of genuine puzzlement on Robert’s
face, she abandoned her good intentions and settled for investment in new
clothes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After all, Robert liked Cleo the way she was. He was another
of the oversize variety. Together they made a handsome couple and Delilah, her
best friend, was another xxl lady who had never had the slightest problem with
her weight and was considered by many to be outstandingly attractive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We cannot all be underfed dwarfs,” she had said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Delilah’s advice, Cleo went to Milton’s, Middlethumpton’s
only fashion emporium that stocked anything remotely big enough. It was a quiet
afternoon. Nothing much was going on at the library that needed two assistants
and Clare was happy to hold the fort for a couple of hours. Nothing much seemed
to be going on at Milton’s, either. Loud jingles and intermittent announcements
assailed the ears of any customers who happened to wander in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo marched straight up the escalator to the jacket
department. A nice blazer was the target of today’s mission and sure enough, on
the first floor, carpeted, perfumed and dedicated to women’s raiment, there
were long rows of jackets in every conceivable shape, colour and size. She
chose a few to try on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the absence of any sales staff, Cleo followed the arrow woven
into the fitted carpet and pointing to the fitting-room. The cubicles had heavy
velvet curtains rather than doors. Only one of them was occupied: the one at
the far end of the row on the left, judging by the drawn curtain. Cleo went
into the first one on the right and decided to invest in the only jacket that
actually fitted her, though they had all claimed to be her size, rather than
starting her search all over again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Cleo opened the curtain of her cubicle, she noticed that
the one in the far corner was still occupied. She supposed that someone else
had even more difficulty finding something to fit her than she did, but it was
rather odd, all the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo walked away from the fitting-room then hesitated. Reading
all the whodunits on the library shelves had left its mark on her. Would Miss
Marple have ignored the closed curtain and left? Cleo thought not. Depositing
the jackets on one of the chairs provided for the weary and husbands, she
walked back through the fitting-room to the last cubicle and listened. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was complete silence behind the curtain. It was
probably still closed without someone behind it, Cleo decided. Some people
forgot to leave a dressing-room curtain open or were reserving the cubicle on
the quiet. The latter was unlikely since all the other cubicles were vacant
anyway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo grasped the side edge of the curtain and gave it a
gentle tug or two. The gap revealed a figure sitting on the little chair
provided. The figure did not react. Cleo took a closer look. The woman was
wearing black and her head was propped up by her hands with her elbows resting
on her knees. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman did not react to Cleo’s intrusion. She could not
react to anything. She was dead. Cleo wondered why she hadn’t fallen to the
floor. She felt the woman’s cheek. It was cold. Cleo shuddered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll have to raise the alarm, she muttered before closing
the curtain and hurrying to find someone who could be of assistance. That
proved difficult. A notice at the unattended cash desk stated that all garments
were to be paid for downstairs. There was no one to be seen anywhere. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Forgetting all about her blazer, Cleo rushed down the
escalator and asked a little girl spraying perfume all around her if anyone was
in charge. No point in alarming the girl. She was not competent to deal with
the situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Over there, Miss. Would you like a spray?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d rather not. Do you mean the man in the dark suit?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Miss. He’s the manager.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo thought he looked more like a funeral director, which
under the circumstances would have been appropriate, but if he was the only
person of authority around he would have to do. She walked resolutely up to
him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me, but something terrible has happened upstairs,” she
began.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There should be someone up there dealing with things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t see anyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The manager didn’t seem very interested. In his view
customers were a nuisance most of the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo raised her voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The only person I saw upstairs was dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not so loud. I’m not
deaf. What did you say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Dead. A female corpse. Would you like to see it, or shall I
call the police?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now the manager was attentive. Having the police on the
premises was not good for business.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. Wait. Where did you say the corpse is?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Corpses were not good for business, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In one of the cubicles in the fitting-room upstairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better see for myself. But just wait a moment while I
get my mobile. I don’t like to be without it when I’m doing my rounds.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sounded more like a caretaker, but Cleo had no choice. A
full 10 minutes elapsed before he reappeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry about that. I hadn’t forgotten you It was important.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo wondered why a corpse would not take priority over everything
else, but refrained from commenting. She led the way back up the escalator and
to the fitting-room. The corner cubicle still had its curtain closed. The
manager now burst into action, pushed past her and flung open the curtain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The corpse had gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If looks could kill, Cleo would have been next on the list.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you quite sure it was a dead corpse?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The manager looked even more disbelieving than he had a few
minutes earlier. His heavy emphasis on the word ‘dead’ sent a shiver down
Cleo’s spine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quite sure. It was not even breathing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, it must have got its breath back for long enough to scarper,”
jeered the manager.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo drew herself up to her full height. She was almost a
head taller than the manager and her eyes glinted dangerously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t be ridiculous. Someone, possible the killer, took it
away while I was waiting for you downstairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s what Miss Marple would have said. The manager looked
aghast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A killer? Did you say it was murder?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was sorry she’d said that. She didn’t actually know
that the woman had been murdered. There was no knife sticking out of her back
or anything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just a slip of the tongue. The woman probably died of heart
failure and a good friend carried her away while I was waiting for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That put the onus of doing something about the corpse
squarely on the manager’s shoulders.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s hope so, always assuming you aren’t making it all up,”
he said, hoping this large coloured lady was just touting for attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo realised that the manager was anxious not to believe
her, since repercussions would be quite dramatic if it became public that
Milton’s was so deserted that people could die unnoticed in the changing
cubicles. On the other hand, a murder would be more acceptable than someone
just falling down or sitting down dead, since murder involves secrecy, so none
of the staff could have seen anything. But then, that would be assuming that
the murderer was not in Milton’s employment, as Cleo pointed out. And there
again, an employee was more likely to know where a corpse could be hidden.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seeing symptoms of apoplexy developing in the manager, Cleo
decided to leave him pondering on the implications of any cause of death and
pursue her own enquiries. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve got to get back to the library now. Let me know if
there are any developments,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Library?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I work there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just then, the manager’s mobile phone rang and he hurried to
a window to get better reception, leaving Cleo standing. She made her escape. It
would have been pointless to prolong the interchange with this pompous little
man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside the store, Cleo wondered what to do next. She hadn’t
been daydreaming. She would go to the back of the store and look around. She
was sure the corpse could not have disappeared into thin air, but someone might
have thrown it over his shoulder and carried it down the fire escape, which
ended at the back of the building, or even thrown it onto the yard. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Something told her that whoever had removed the corpse had
probably watched her discovering it. She could have ended up just as dead. And
of course, the corpse could have been dumped in the boot of a car and whisked
away. That is what she would have done in such a situation, but it would make
it hard to prove her story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo was in luck, however, which is more that can be said
for the poor woman she eventually discovered hidden behind a recycling
container in the corner furthest from the gate. Now she would have to ring the
police. So she did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo knew that she could do nothing for the dead woman lying
discarded in the back yard of Milson’s, which claimed to be a fashion store
with a difference that surely didn’t include itinerant corpses. Cleo explained
the situation to the cop, who said he was D.I. Gary Hurley. She remarked that
they had already met on the phone. Gary Hurley had tried to firm a mental
picture of her then, but had failed. She was pert and direct and also a private
eye, he remembered. He did not like or trust private detectives but he was
fascinated by this one and found it hard to take his eyes off her. Cleo thought
he was taking too much interest in her and too little in the dead woman. His
parting handshake was warm and a shade longer than necessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo made her escape before someone leaked the incident and the
press turned up. She had no desire to be connected with the case since that
would mean press publicity and a resulting barrage of questions from all and
sundry at the library. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was now late and she was only just in time to get a lift
home with Clare, who was very curious to hear what Cleo had bought, but instead
got to hear about the reason Cleo had not got round to buying anything after
all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clare had a mission of her own that day. She had to break
the news that she wanted to stop working at the library sooner than expected.
She was expecting twins. Cleo was happy for her, but the vision of that poor
dead woman huddled behind the container had shaken her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry. Bad timing,” said Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect the dead woman thought that, too, Clare. You must
look after yourself. Having even a baby is special. Having two is even more
special. I’ll manage, whatever you decide.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll sort something out at the job centre, Cleo. Leave it
to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I may have to. This week is going to be dreadful. I can
feel it in my bones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now it was Clare’s turn to shudder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert had cooked the evening meal. After hearing about the
dead woman, he was extremely relieved that Cleo was not anxious to investigate
the case. He did not really approve of this streak in her personality. Quite
apart from the danger she might get into, any case she had been involved in up
to now had proved very time-consuming and his shop left him no time to help
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once Cleo had told Robert of the event, she was going to
leave it to the police to get at the truth. Since it was probably a murder case
it was the most sensible solution. And anyway, the cop in charge had been
over-friendly, she told Robert. He thought she was probably imagining things
since she was in an emotional state after finding the dead woman. Cleo thought
otherwise, but did not argue. The cop’s black eyes seemed to be still following
her. He was also of mixed blood, she decided, but spoke with a public school
accent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately, the police had no immediate success with the
identification of the corpse, so Bernie Browne’s Gazette was to be allowed to
publish a very sharp likeness of the dead woman on the front page of the next
issue of that freebie. But a photographer from a national daily jumped the guns
by getting a photo published the very next day. At about half past seven in the
morning, the phone rang and a very agitated Gloria shouted “Have you seen the
paper?” down the line. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, mother, not yet. I’m just getting up, and Robert has
only just come back from the wholesalers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, look on the front page because the woman in the photo
is, or rather was my neighbour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo’s heart sank. She had made a big effort to put
yesterday’s events out of her mind, but it was not to be. If Gloria had
recognized the woman, she would have to identify her and Cleo was sure she
would be expected to provide moral support. Robert handed her the newspaper.
Sure enough, yesterday’s corpse was spread over half of page one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You could be mistaken, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No way. She lived directly opposite in that old house. It’s
divided into apartments and she lived on the ground floor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you quite sure? What was her name?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I dunno. I never saw her with anyone and the few times we
talked together she was quite unfriendly, as if she would have preferred not to
talk to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know exactly how she must have felt if you accosted her
with what you think is friendliness.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is serious, Cleo. I always had the feeling she was
looking around, like she was afraid of something. Before you ask, Mrs Cop, I
did take a look at the names on the mailbox flaps and there was none on hers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not a cop, mother. How did you know it was the right
one?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Doesn’t the bottom mailbox flap always belong to the bottom
apartment?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not necessarily.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria persisted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There was no name on it because the woman did not want
people to know she lived there. She was scared of something, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was interpreting the situation to suit herself and probably
imagining things, but telling her that would be sure to make her mad. Cleo was
not anxious to have to deal with one of Gloria’s tantrums. She could still
remember the way her mother had championed Jay. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She probably had good reason to be, considering what
happened to her. The cops need to know all of that, Mother. You’d better go
there right away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On my own?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t you come with me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do I have to?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You could remind me of what I’ve just told you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you scared, too, Mother? If I tag along, that will only
make things worse. After all, I did spot the corpse first.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You did? You didn’t tell me that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t want to bother you. The police came and I left.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can we go now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK. If Clare can manage at the library I’ll be glad to come
with you. I’ll ask her and phone you back. We can meet inside the police
building.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So much for not getting involved, thought Cleo. Robert, who
had gestured to Cleo to switch the speaker on and been rewarded with Gloria’s
show of panic, just shook his head. Gloria had a talent for getting into the
thick of things. Cleo might just be able to prevent events escalating. After
all, Gloria had no evidence and certainly no proof that the dead woman was
anything other than a harmless citizen. Cleo wondered if the well-spoken cop would
be there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll run you down to Headquarters.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You need to open the shop, Robert. I’ll take the bus.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I insist on driving you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK, Robert, but don’t be concerned. I’ll go shopping later
and get home by bus. I might even get the jacket I never got round to buying
yesterday. I don’t anticipate a brawl at the police station so I expect to get
away fast.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This doesn’t mean I approve of you getting mixed up,”
Robert told Cleo as they drove down Thumpton Hill into Middlethumpton.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know that. But what else can I do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“At least you’ll get to know more about the case. Just promise
me you won’t delve deeper.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t want to delve deeper. This is in a different
category from donation box theft and lost umbrellas, Robert. I just want to get
Gloria out of that police station as fast as I can.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert dropped Cleo off and HQ and drove away satisfied that
he had said the right thing about getting mixed up in things that don’t concern
you. It was high time he opened the shop. His day had started at three in the morning.
Monday was his usual wholesale market day, but he did sometimes have to make
extra trips there, for instance, if there was going to be a special event
somewhere and he had a big order to deliver. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Between serving his customers in the shop, Robert prepared
big platters of ready-to-grill steaks and other cuts he could deliver at
lunchtime. Today a local golfing hotel was holding a tournament and barbeque. He
would be hard put to get everything ready in time. A lunch break was not on the
cards. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is more, Robert’s emotions were awry. It didn’t take
much to remind him how Gloria had almost destroyed his relationship with her
daughter. Even if she had in the end helped to smooth things over, his heart
jerked when he remembered how badly he had behaved. He wished that episode had
never taken place and he wished he could stop feeling distraught about it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Cleo arrived at the police station, her mother was
waiting impatiently at the information desk. She was clutching the newspaper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thanks for phoning,” said Gloria. “You took your time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I had to square it with Clare. Did you tell the officer why
you’re here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not yet. I thought I’d wait for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Detective Inspector Gary Hurley chose that moment to come up
to Gloria and Cleo. He speculated that It might be a serious claim made by
Gloria on the subject of that press photo, but quite different claim shot
through Gary Hurley’s head when he again set eyes until the previous day. So
this black woman with the big smile was Cleo Hartley mother. Cleo had made a
lasting impression on Gary. Was he crazy? She was a tough negotiator and blunt.
He had not even liked her on the phone. Now he had difficulty in listening to
what she had to say. She explained briefly, disconcerted by the inspector’s
gaze. Gloria showed the officer the newspaper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes later Cleo and Gloria were sitting in the
inspector’s office. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was impressed with Gary’s good manners and swarthy
looks..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hi!” she said flirtatiously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nice to see you again,” Gary said to Cleo, taking her hand,
which he again held in a firm grip for just a little too long so that she gazed
at him questioningly. Gloria witnessed the gesture with alarm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know it’s a huge coincidence,” Cleo said, disconcerted,
but my mother saw the photo in the newspaper this morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s a small world,” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary Hurley turned to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So you know the woman, do you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really. The way neighbours get acquainted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you recognized her on the photo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’d better look at the corpse, just in case.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was afraid of that,” said Gloria. “I’m not good at
corpses.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nobody’s good at corpses, Mrs Hartley, but this one is in
good condition. You won’t have nightmares or anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The two women followed Gary Hurley to the lift and they went
down into the bowels of the earth to the pathology lab. Gary moved to Cleo’s
side and put his hand on her shoulder, ostensibly to guide her. The gesture was
not spontaneous. Gary had had the urge to touch this woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A rather cruel looking young pathologist in a white overall
with a lethal looking scalpel in her hand wanted to know why they felt that they
had to take up her valuable time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s all right, Grace. This won’t take a minute. Where did
you put the Milton corpse?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On the slab, Gary. I’ve only just started my examination.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you’ve been chiselling away, can you go first and cover
the body except for the head?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know you were squeamish.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not,” fibbed Gary, “but these witnesses might be.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK. OK. Give me a few seconds.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grace marched ahead and moments later shouted the all clear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria looked briefly at the dead woman’s face then nodded. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s her, for sure. She looks older dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know her name?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Her name?” stammered Gloria. “I can’t remember.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria did not know the woman’s name, but she was rather
fascinated by this tall, thin, attractive officer of the law. What a pity he
was only about Cleo’s age.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t remember?” said Gary, realizing that Mrs Hartley
wanted to make herself interesting despite her lack of knowledge. ”It’ll come
back when you’re over the shock, but at least we now know where she lived.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hurley wondered if Gloria was a little senile. He wasn’t
good at guessing people’s age, especially if they were coloured, though he had quickly put Cleo’s age as
much the same as his own. He nodded briefly to the pathologist, who was dying
to get on with the job, and gestured to Cleo and Gloria to move away from the
slab.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll go back to my office for a moment, shall we?’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I really should be at library now,” said Cleo. The smell of
formaldehyde was assailing her nostrils. What a place to work in all day every
day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria marched on ahead, back down the long corridor that
led to the central lifts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary tugged at Cleo’s hand. Cleo wanted to withdraw it, but
couldn’t because Gary was asking her if they could meet somewhere else. A
little nod of assent was all Cleo could manage before Gloria turned round.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey, you two! What’s the problem? Come on!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you have to go to your job, Cleo?” said Gloria when they
reached the entrance hall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But we could have a late breakfast together. You have a
canteen here don’t you, Gary?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, mother, not now,” Cleo interrupted. “And don’t call the
detective by his first name, for heaven’s sake!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Grace did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who is Grace, Mother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The woman with the scalpel and sour face.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary smothered a smile. The description fitted. Grace was
graceless and bad-tempered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’s a colleague, Mother. You’re a stranger. We don’t get
familiar quite as fast here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo looked at Gary as she said that. A fleeting smile
crossed both of their faces.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, I’m so sorry if I was rude, Mr Hurley, but Gary’s such
nice name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary was anxious to see the back of this rather gushing
individual. Cleo looked daggers at her mother. Gary thought Cleo was thinking
along the same lines.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll show the main exit, Mrs Hartley.” he said. “Wait here,
Miss Hartley. You should not be seen leaving together.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria seemed rather put out that she was being virtually
thrown out of Police Headquarters. But quite apart from his desire to separate
the two Hartley, Gary was no fool. Witnesses sometimes made things up if they
thought it would make them more interesting. The detective was sure that Mrs
Hartley was like that. Rather garrulous, even theatrical, he conjectured. She
enjoyed putting people down, as she had just done to her daughter. Cleo had
rolled her eyes in his direction when her mother had pushed herself forward. He
thanked Gloria profusely for her help and mused that Cleo had probably got used
to being upstaged by Gloria, but in fact, Gloria had been quite deferential by
her standards. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you attached?”
he asked Cleo when Gloria had left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sort of. Are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Divorce pending. Are you glued to your partner?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo laughed. A date with this dish of a man would be a refreshing
change. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No,” she retorted, surprised at herself for flirting,
however attractive the target was. She had given up flirting long ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lunchtime free today for instance?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why not? I’m free every second weekday. The library closes
over midday and we take it in turns to go out for lunch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Romano’s at one then? It’s just down the road from here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK, I’ll be there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t forget, will you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they parted Gary raised Cleo’s hand to his lips and
planted a kiss on it. Cleo was amazed. As she walked back to the library her
hand almost felt scorched from the heat of that gesture. I hope you know what
you’re doing, Cleopatra Hartley, she told herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary should have spent the whole day processing the Milton
corpse. He was sure that Mrs Hartley had not told him everything. But his
thoughts were elsewhere. He wondered if it was wise to get mixed up with
Gloria’s daughter except that he had seemingly already decided. He had sensed
the physical attraction between him and this voluptuous coloured woman, but felt
drawn to her in a way he could not describe as purely physical. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary organized a forensic team to visit the dead woman’s
flat that was, according to Gloria, directly opposite her own. He might even go
along there himself, but not before lunch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At one o’clock he and Cleo met at Romano’s. They stood
outside like two teenagers on their first date. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d like us to make love,” he said. “Do you think…?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s moving too fast for me,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Too fast? You feel the same as I do, don’t you? That’s why
you came.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve never double-crossed a man before,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You mean the man you presumably live with, I take it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He’s a nice guy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Loving two people doesn’t hurt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think I love him the way you mean.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What is the way I mean, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I mean the love that often accompanies physical desire,”
she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Physical intimacy is often a great start to a
relationship.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There are others.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I prefer this way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve never tried it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No one will find out unless you tell them, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where can we go? I’m not into hotel rooms that you hire by
the hour and I’ve never had a one night stand.” That would be the end of the
silly ideas that were rushing through her brain, she decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s not how I tick either,” said Gary. “I know that
Romano has a guest room in his apartment above the restaurant. I’ve never been
there, but I could ask him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since Cleo did not protest, he did just that. Within minutes
Cleo and Gary were alone in the well-appointed room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What now?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you mind if I just put my arms round you?” said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a short pause during which Gary thought Cleo would
announce that she had made a mistake and leave, but she didn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d mind more if you didn’t, Mr Hurley,” said Cleo, kicking
off her shoes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s hard to say who really moved things along between them,
but Cleo and Gary very soon found themselves making love with an urgency that amazed
them both.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wow,” said Cleo finally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Has anyone told you that you are beautiful?” said Gary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not recently. I’m too fat.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not for me,” said Gary. “I assume that the guy you live
with already takes you for granted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve never thought of my relationship in that light. He’s
shy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So how do you rate our relationship?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In one word?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is there one?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sensational,” said Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I agree and we have a few more minutes. Don’t put your
clothes on yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wasn’t going to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That fast?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“At first sight and the same happened to you, I’m sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It did and I’m not breakable.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Neither am I,” Gary said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Cleo was overwhelmed by what was happening she could not
have said so. Her body was reacting in a way it had never done. Is that what
had been missing in her life? She had never paid attention to her own desires
before and now she was with a man who paid attention to hers and his. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is truly a partner act, Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve noticed. You are sensational!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So are you,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was with great reluctance that the lovers dressed and
made their way down to the restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Romano put his arm round Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You are what my friend needed,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He is what I need,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary chose a table and they sat down, overwhelmed by the
intensity of their love-making. Later, when Gary had gone to the door to buy
all the roses the itinerary rose seller had to offer, Romano told Cleo that he
had been worried about Gary, but that he had known instantly that she was the
right woman for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You are right. Nothing can compare with the feeling I have
for him,” Cleo had told. “But I don’t know how to extricate myself from my present
relationship with a good man, Romano. An affair is about all I can deal with
right now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Take my word for it,” said Romano. “You will have to make a
choice and I know now what it will be, however long it takes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thanks for taking me on, Cleo,” said Gary as he handed her
the roses. “Every one of these denotes a tryst.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo found herself counting the blooms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But there are 28 of them,” she said, amused at the gesture.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m courting you and you’ll get more roses when these are
finished,” he said. You will marry me one day, after all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wow,” was all Cleo
could say. “I’m speechless. I thought…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m serious,” said Gary. “Aren’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo looked at Gary for a long time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I’m serious,” she said finally. “But I am promised to
another man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s medieval.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think it’s forever, either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s enough for a start. We could take another hour
upstairs to seal the agreement.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo and Gary shared a pizza because Romano brought them his specialty of the month just then. Their meal was followed by
another hour in Roman’s guestroom. Their appetite for food had been satisfied
by the pizza; their appetite for one another was not. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“When can we meet again, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Soon please,” said Cleo. “You are a sensational lover,
Gary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I could say the same.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll phone you,” Cleo offered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t leave it too long.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo could not say how she got through the rest of the day.
Confiding in Clare was something she did not want to do, but in the end she had
to tell someone. The library was quiet and there was time for a coffee and a
chat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Clare, have you ever fallen in love with a complete
stranger?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really. I’ve had a lot of men friends, but it never got
to the love stage. Sex and fun, yes, but I was really fixed on Karl and
probably always was, and now…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought I was fixed on Robert, Clare, but had sex with
someone at lunchtime and it was a revelation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lucky you, but sex is not love,” said Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The love came first, Clare. It hit me square on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does he feel the same?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you quite sure, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Positive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Then don’t let him go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But what about Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you love Robert?” Clare asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not the way I love this other guy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Then you have a problem you’ll have to solve one way or the
other.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo hoped that Gloria would keep on patronizing the
line-dancing, but she would guess what was going on between her and Gary and
might even tell Robert. Cleo had not given more than a passing thought to what
would happen to her relationship with him. She had told Gary that he was a nice
guy. What she had omitted to say was that he was hell bent on marrying her. Her
only hope would be for Robert to fall for someone else, but that was
unrealistic. </div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As far as the dead woman was concerned, Gloria had made
plans of her own to find out her name and be her friend, though friendship with
a corpse was one-sided. Deducing that the police would soon move into the dead
woman’s flat to find clues to her identity Gloria thought she should get in
ahead, not least to contradict what she thought Gary Hurley was rightly
thinking – that she did not actually know the woman but wanted a little
excitement in her life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria sat at her own window observing the house opposite
and wondering how she could get in. An hour later a van drew up and a forensic
team went into the house. Gloria decided that she had one more chance to get in
the house. She threw on a coat and dashed across the road. The forensic guys
had left the front door open. She could get into the house and maybe even into
the apartment. What would she do then? Could she get out of the apartment and
house unnoticed? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria had thought of an excuse. She would say that she had
been invited to coffee, seen the door open and wondered if something had
happened. As luck would have it, the door of the woman’s flat had also been left
open by the forensic team.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the clue-seekers sang along to a pop song that was
blaring out of a radio in the front room, Gloria was able to go into the
bedroom at the back, where she searched through the drawers of a little bedside
cupboard, the place she thought most likely to contain something personal belonging
to the dead woman. She did not know what she was looking for, but she was spurred
on by curiosity and guided by the countless crime series she had viewed on TV
in the old days in the USA. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe there would be a diary. Lots of people kept diaries or
agendas and most of them wrote them up at bedtime. She was in luck. She
pocketed a small notebook just in time before one of the forensic team entered
the room and got the fright of his life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect you’d like to tell me what you’re doing here,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The door was open. I came for coffee,” Gloria improvised.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh really? In the bedroom?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sometimes my neighbour gets up late.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since the investigator had no reason to suspect Gloria, he
accepted her explanation at face value. After all, the forensic team was called
to the scene of any crime after it had happened, when anyone involved would
probably have already got away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better take your fingerprints, Miss. If you’ve touched
anything, we’ll need to rule them out. Apart from which, you are loitering
under suspicious circumstances. Who are you, anyway, and where do you live?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m Mrs Gloria Hartley and I live just across the road,
Mr.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was alarmed. She hadn’t given a thought to the
legality of her actions. Her handbag was at home. She told the investigator
that she had been concerned for her friend because she hadn’t heard from her
for days and they had arranged for her to go for coffee that morning. That’s
why she was there. That explanation seemed to satisfy the forensic guy. Actually,
he didn’t want to waste time on this flustered intruder. He had a date that
evening, so the sooner he finished the job here, the better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Gary Hurley will be here any minute,” he said. “You’d
better wait for him, tell him all you’ve told me and take him to your flat.
That will verify the truth of your story, Mrs....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria felt a rush of panic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Gary Hurley?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Homicide squad, Lady. I’m not in charge of the
investigation. I’m just a scientist collecting the evidence here. “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know Gary?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Only in passing,” said Gloria. It was the best she could think
of saying. She was already in hot water, she reflected.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria’s fingerprints were still being taken when the
detective arrived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he saw Gloria, he froze.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why, Mrs Hartley. I didn’t expect to find you here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The door was open. I just thought...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“....you’d do a bit of investigating?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I suppose so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You are trespassing, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t be hard on her, Gary. She was anxious about her
friend,” Chris told him in her defence, or was it because the whole team had
not seen her entering the flat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t make me laugh, Chris. How did she get in?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The doors were open,” Chris had to admit. “She had a coffee
date with her friend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Some friend! She doesn’t even know her name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I do, Gary, I mean Mr Hurley. It’s Sandra Rossi.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So why didn’t you say so at the station, Mrs Hartley?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was upset when I saw her lying dead like that. My mind
just went blank.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary did not believe her. Witnesses could be really
obstructive sometimes. He wouldn’t accuse her of lying, however. After all,
something else might occur to her that was important for his case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, run along, then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria was glad to get out without further questioning. She
made her way back to the flat in a deliberately casual way so as not to arouse
further suspicion. Gary watched her go. She had the dead woman’s diary in the
inside pocket of her coat. It had told her the woman’s name. Maybe it would
reveal other secrets. It did not occur to Gloria that she was already playing
with fire.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary didn’t feel the need to explain how he knew Gloria
Hartley. Forensic investigators did not need to know everything. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did she take anything?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I shouldn’t think so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you’re not sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really,” Chris admitted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘You don’t even know how long she’d been here before you
caught her, do you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We had the radio on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And the front door open. Don’t you guys ever think beyond
your sticky tape? The woman lives across the road. I’d better follow it up.
Just carry on here, but behind closed doors, if you don’t mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary Hurley crossed the road and rang Gloria’s bell. Gloria
had hidden the diary behind the dry goods in her kitchen cupboard as soon as
she got home. She wasn’t really surprised to see Gary at the door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What a surprise! Won’t you come in?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria hoped her voice sounded normal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Weren’t you expecting me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I suppose I was,” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think you know more than you told me at HQ.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I don’t, but just now I was curious.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Curiosity killed the cat, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I just wanted to see how Sandra lived.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why didn’t you tell me her name earlier?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It had slipped my mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary Hurley did not believe Gloria. Was she involved in the
woman’s death? Surely not, but he’d keep an eye on her, he decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I won’t keep you then, but if anything else slips
back into your mind, I’d be glad if you called me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Here’s my card, Mrs Hartley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does Cleo have one,” said Gloria. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Should she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t see why not,” said Gloria. “I saw you exchanging
glances, Mr Hurley, but Cleo already has a relationship. I hope you didn’t seduce
her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you her guardian angel, Mrs Hartley?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, but I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She had bad luck with her marriage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh. And you think I could bring her bad luck again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not if you leave her alone, Mrs Hurley.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll think about it, Mrs Hartley,” said Gary, leaving
Gloria in no doubt that something had happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary would have liked to lead Gloria on to tell him more
about the guy Cleo now lived with, wanted to stay with, but did not love, but
Gloria was astute and that would have given the game away, so he didn’t. He
left with a dire warning to Gloria not to stick her nose into anything that
could be dangerous for her since the police did not know how or why she had
died.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not until the forensic team had completed their
investigation, drawn the curtains behind the window facing the street and left
with all their equipment did Gloria stop observing the house opposite from her
window and risk taking Sandra Rossi’s diary out of its hiding place. She would
have to surrender it, she supposed, but not before she’d read it. She was sure
her fingerprints would be on the bedside table. It was only a matter of time
before Gary Hurley got to know about them and put two and two together. She
would ring Cleo for advice later. Cleo would know what to do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was very little to go on in the diary. Sandra Rossi
was not a writer. She had made notes of various appointments and there was
quite a long list of phone numbers at the back of the little agenda, some of
which were underlined or had initials next to them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria decided it might be better to simply dispose of the <span class="MsoSubtleReference">little</span><b> </b>book
rather than hand it in. When asked why her fingerprints were on the bedside
cupboard drawer, she would admit to looking inside but not to removing
anything. That way she would not be branded a criminal and risk being
extradited. That was the least she could do for herself. But what could she do
for Sandra Rossi? Follow up those phone contacts? Would Cleo advise her against
it? Better not ask. Cleo might say no. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gloria fetched herself a cup of coffee, a pen and some paper
and dialled the first phone number on Sandra Rossi’s list. If the results of
that research were negative, she would follow it up by listening around for any
gossip that might be going locally. Although Gloria was coloured and therefore
rather conspicuous in a neighbourhood where almost everyone was a white
European, she was chatty and used to starting conversations with strangers who
invariably reacted in a friendly way to her wide smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one would suspect such a conspicuous person of having an
ulterior motive for asking questions. She wished she had a dog she could take
for walks. Dog owners often talked to one another and usually had time to
notice what was going on around them while their dogs did what they usually do.
But first she would try all of the phone numbers in Sandra Rossi’s diary.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-73901188547107969162016-02-05T02:35:00.002-08:002017-01-23T12:48:01.663-08:0028 - Tintinnabulation <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vicars in most country parishes are not renowned for innovation.
In fact, a vicar trying to break with the past and move on into a bright future
is the exception rather than the rule. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>So a former vicar of Upper Grumpsfield, named Mordred by his
mother, a fervent fan of historical myths, was actually quite exceptional in
his desire to remove all the cobwebs from St Peter’s parish church. Since he
was quite a technical buff, this included replacing the dying species of
bell-ringers with complicated wiring all the way up the bell-tower leading to
loudspeakers, which conveyed a recording of the church bells to anyone within
earshot. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mordred Mortimer might have been burdened with an
unnecessarily esoteric name, but not with a guilty conscience when he made the
recording secretly at a bell-ringing rehearsal and did not tell anyone until it
had been edited and tested, which of course gave the game away, since
bell-ringers no longer had to turn up to practise at peculiar times, such as
before breakfast on a Saturday morning. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a storm of protest, but M.M., as he preferred to
be called, explained at length that bell-ringing was dying out, at least in
Upper Grumpsfield; lamentably, there seemed to be no desire on the part of the
younger generation to learn the craft. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In time people got used to the new arrangement and the
protests died down. However, before he could abolish the church choir, coffee
mornings, any flowers apart from artificial ones (he suffered from allergies)
and other traditional customs, M.M. was promoted to an administrative job
elsewhere that involved rationalizing anything he spotted that could save the
church money, time and energy, or preferably all three.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip eventually took over the parish after a short
interim period when there was the regular vicar was a nice old guy recalled
from retirement, but unfortunately went to higher grounds after only a few
months in charge of St Peter’s. The new vicar had been wasting away in a
clerical function when opportunity knocked and he was gratified that his talent
for the pulpit would at last be recognized.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This new permanent vicar of St Peter’s, vicar by trade but evangelist
by nature, was sure that he was poor substitute for Mordred Mortimer, who had
hoisted himself so successfully into his new job through shrewd self-marketing.
His successor had not lived long enough to make much of an impression. All the
other candidates had been rejected by the congregation, who drove their point
by staying away and writing angry letters to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the
Prime Minister, and the head of the BBC. M.M. was a bit of a trial sometimes,
but there would never be another Marilyn, many said. Most could not even
remember the name of the elderly gentleman who presided after M. M., a
situation that was definitely favourable for Mr Parsnip. The new vicar had once
spent a few weeks evangelizing on Tunisian beaches, financed by an evangelical
society supporting volunteers for such an adventure. He saw his new job as
having missionary quality, but in the end he left things just as M.M. had left
them, in the hope that he would not antagonize anyone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the recording of the bells continued to be played until
one bright Sunday morning, it conked out. The antiquated tape simply scraped to
a halt and parishioners were left wondering whether the morning service had
been cancelled. The incident was not only inconvenient, but seriously
embarrassing for Mr Parsnip, who hated disorder despite the fact that he was a
specialist at creating it. His lunch gave him indigestion, Edith chastised him
for not having noticed that the tape had already been out of sync for some time
and Dorothy Price, who was at supposedly responsible for the music at St Peter’s
and had hated the recording, rang him up and told him to do something about it
immediately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy had moved back to Upper Grumpsfield long after the
tape recording had been installed and it had often occurred to her that it was
a poor substitute for the real thing. Now she wished she had complained to the
aged vicar. Mr Parsnip wished she had, too, for then maybe – just maybe – he
would have given it some thought before he was forced to. With Easter looming
up, he could not leave St Peter’s completely bell-less for a day longer than
necessary. It was not that Mr Parsnip had a good idea all of his own accord,
but that a good idea forced itself on him, this being a common occurrence in Mr
Parsnip’s life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His argument, compiled on his swivelling chair while he
sharpened all his pencils in an action he found comforting in times of stress,
went roughly on the lines of: If Delilah can introduce that karaoke thingamajig
to the village I can revive one of our old traditions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was really pleased with that bit of reasoning. It was a
good cover for his acute embarrassment about the ghastly noises broadcast by the
tape recording the morning it finally ground to a halt. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Switching the bells off in the bell tower was actually the vicar’s
job via a connection under the pulpit. They had been switched on earlier by the
organist. Mr Morgan had not reported anything amiss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On that fateful Sunday morning everything went wrong. He overslept,
and Edith did not get him moving in time to shake hands with all the parishioners.
He was in a panic because he had not quite finished composing his sermon, so he
would be forced to improvise the end. The church was still cold because no one
had put the heating on, so Gareth Morgan shivered as he produced the massive
orchestral chords that submerged the bells. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The moment when the bells gave up the ghost was only really noticed
by anyone outside within hearing distance since the organ was doing a
magnificent job of drowning them out, and by Dorothy, who happened to be standing
near the main door. Frederick Parsnip had pressed the button and nothing had
happened. He pressed it again and there was a horrible screeching as the tape
got faster and higher. Gareth Morgan stopped his organ-playing to wait for Mr
Parsnip to switch off the recording, but he heard the awful screeching and
realization spread across his face. Eventually, an uneasy silence filled the
church and its surroundings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was not that Mr Morgan cared who knew the bells were a
fraud. His organ-playing was normally superimposed on the noise they made. But
due to the lack of forewarning, people who relied on the bells to chivvy them
out of their Sunday morning lethargy were still trickling into church long
after Mr Parsnip had made the week’s announcements, which forced him to repeat
them all at the end of the service. The people who were already in church had
exclaimed in horror before the noise of the tape ground to a high-pitched end
actually applauded when it did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Afterwards Mr Parsnip could have kicked himself for not
making a clean breast of it. Of course, the congregation knew it was a
recording, but as long as it functioning it was acceptable. The vicar’s sermon
had been all about music being the food of love and included a rather inappropriate
sonnet by the great bard. But after all, Shakespeare had opened Twelfth Night
with that very argument. The line continued by saying ‘play on’ and that had
provoked a roar of laughter from those who had heard the cacophony the bell
recording had produced that morning, and that was, of course, everybody..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicar was in shock. Edith told him later that he should
have paid more attention to detail, but he didn’t ask her what she meant. He
thought she was scolding him for telling everyone he was himself unmusical and
wished he could sing instead of referring to biblical texts and Shakespeare. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicar circumvented a serious discussion on the topic of
bells with Edith, who invariably pointed out that any scheme he invented would
not work, was too expensive, too complicated, too everything, in short bound to
flop. He had heard her vetos often enough on other occasions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now he would do what he always did when faced with a
conundrum: he would consult Dorothy the following day. She would at least put
on a show of sympathy, however exasperated she felt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After his confrontation with the police car a few months
earlier, which had knocked all the stuffing out of his rusty old bike, Mr
Parsnip had been presented with a new one by his sister Beatrice for Christmas,
accompanied by the hope that a velocipede nearer the ground would make falling
off it less painful. It did not creak and it was not a racing bicycle with a
high crossbar, but a unisex mountain bike you could collapse to put in the boot
of a car if you had one. Mounting it without the cross-bar was a good sight
less inconvenient and riding it was bliss because the solid tyres acted as
shock absorbers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip was not an athletic person, but riding the new
bike was quite exhilarating and he vowed to take a turn on it every single day.
He even felt a surge of affection for Beatrice every time he saw it. Telling
Edith that he would go for a short ride to clear his head, he donned his
bicycle clips and set off in the direction opposite to where Dorothy lived,
just in case Edith was watching. She hated it when he told Dorothy Price things
first and she was sure he was going to talk things over with her that afternoon.
Fortunately she had a plan of her own, which entailed slipping out of the vicarage
into the church, where Mr Morgan was already practising a rowdy Handel piece. She
was glad that Frederick had removed himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy had not been expecting anyone. She really needed to
go shopping and was just watering the plants on the parlour window-sill when Mr
Parsnip rode up. Since the bicycle was new, it could not be left propped up
against the front hedge. Mr Parsnip wheeled it round the back of the cottage,
balanced it against the kitchen wall and knocked on the back door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy did not waste words. He would keep her talking all
afternoon unless she was adamant about going out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you want, Frederick? Shouldn’t you be somewhere
else?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Should I? Where?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anywhere. I wasn’t expecting you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s urgent, Dorothy. I need your advice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ask Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip ignored that suggestion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Fact is, Dorothy, we need some bell-ringers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I thought as much. Can’t you get the recording mended?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Irreparable. Worn out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, get another.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can I come in first?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Up to that moment the conversation had been through the
kitchen window.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m going out now, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just for five minutes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, very well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip sat down at the kitchen table. He could have done
with a cup of tea, but didn’t like to ask.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what do you want me to do, Frederick? Climb the tower
and ring the bells myself?”<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course not. But I do want to revive real bell-ringing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ll have to revive the bell-ringers first, Frederick.
They were all ancient fifteen years ago. My father’s generation. Mostly gone to
better pastures before I came back here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about that old fellow Jeremiah, I think his name was?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think you’ll get him to ring any more bells. He
must be well over 90 and he was as deaf as a post 30 years ago.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll ask him. He can always say no.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy was now quite sure that the vicar really was serious
about the bell-ringers. Roping her in to help was always high on his list of
priorities whenever he thought of something new to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But the bell tower is so dilapidated, Frederick. I don’t
suppose it’s even safe anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course it’s safe. We can clean it up and start using
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That ‘we’ again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t include me, Frederick. I’ve got Associated Board
exams coming up for several pupils. I’m really pushed for time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you do think it’s a good idea, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll think about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip now had a very dry throat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Any chance of a cup of tea, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not now. No time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip knew that look on Dorothy’s face. It was the same
look as when Edith asked how Albert was getting on in his piano lessons. Something
between a frown and a pout.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I’d better be off then, but don’t forget to think
about the idea, will you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Frederick, I’ll give it some thought.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I’ll call a meeting for next Sunday. Usual time. We can
inspect the bell-tower together.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Get that recording going, Frederick. Even if your plan
works, it’s going to take months to get organized.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Mr Parsnip was already pushing his bike round the corner
of the cottage and didn’t hear her last words. He was asking himself where he
could find bell-ringers. He would visit old Jeremiah and get him to train some
young volunteers. The bells would be up and running, or rather ringing, in no
time at all!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite the nature of the conundrum, Mr Parsnip was glad he
had not said anything to Edith. He never told Edith first. In fact, he never
really told her anything he thought she could do without knowing. She
invariably found out by eavesdropping on the phone conversations he made in the
run-up to the inevitable meetings that accompanied his little schemes, however
hare-brained they were. She would be urged to bake something nice for a change
and would have to pretend to be pleased when all his committee members turned
up at 4 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, which was when the committee meetings
always took place now the Sunday evensong was only held once a month. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The round of phone calls that evening confirmed Edith’s
suspicion. Since she had been listening in, she could not ask why Laura Finch
was being invited. Mr Parsnip was taking care not to spill the beans to anyone,
so Edith did not find out what the meeting was for even by eavesdropping. She
would like to have known, but Mr Parsnip volunteered no information. To be
honest, he could not remember exactly why Laura Finch was on his mind. He would
have to phone Dorothy and check. He hoped he hadn’t made Laura any wild
promises. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speculation all the following week gave Edith hypertension.
By Thursday she was on the verge of a migraine. By Friday she had one. Surely
she wasn’t going to be asked to approve of yet another awful event? Was Dorothy
Price mixed up in it? Mr Morgan, for whom Edith had an enduring soft spot, had
been invited. She would do her best to avoid eye contact with him, having
installed self-disciplinary measures such as saying hello when she went to
listen to him practising the organ instead of hiding behind a column. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saying she was there seemed to put a damper on Edith’s
emotions, but it didn’t put a damper on Mr Morgan, who was flattered that she
came to listen to him officially and now asked her what she would like him to
play. Edith, who had never had enough singing voice to grace the church choir,
would warble something resembling a tune. Mr Morgan invariably recognized it and
turned into heavenly symphonies – at least that’s what Edith thought they were.
There was something quite prickling about Edith’s encounters with Mr Morgan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip spent the run up to the bell-tower meeting
getting organized. He found time to visit Jeremiah, but unfortunately the old
man was not only extremely old and frail, but, as Dorothy had told him, also
extremely deaf, so apart from showing the new bell-ringers how to pull the
ropes, assuming he could stand up for long enough, he would hardly be an asset
for the new project. Mr Parsnip hoped it wasn’t the bells that had robbed him
of his hearing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite her migraine, Edith persisted in her efforts to
discover what was going on behind her back. She even sneaked into the study,
otherwise referred to as the ‘holy of holies’ and adorned a notice on the door
saying KEEP OUT that was aimed at the boys, but also included Edith. She would look
through her husband’s to-think and to-do lists while he was out on one of his
constitutional mountain-bike rides. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith found a list for the next meeting, but was none the
wiser. All it said was: Ask Laura if she knows of anyone, get electrician for
wiring and don’t take no for an answer. She had an inkling that the broken-down
tape recording was at the bottom of it all, but she could not ask about it
directly for fear of her rummaging being revealed. Rummaging and eavesdropping
were serious, if not deadly sins. She also discovered fragments of a new
sermon. It was all about silence being golden and had nothing to do with
Easter. So the bells, or rather, lack of bells must be at the bottom of it all.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Sunday meeting, eagerly awaited by all except Dorothy
Price, who knew for certain what it was in aid of and would have preferred to
read a book or play the piano, finally arrived. Edith had received her baking
orders and made more than ample provision. Mr Morgan could be relied on to show
his appreciation by eating everything down to the last crumb and Laura Finch,
on a mission of her own, would praise the sponge cake and eat about as many
scones with jam and clotted cream as Mr Morgan. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for Dorothy, that lady never seemed to notice what she
was eating when Laura Finch was in the room. The hatchet had been buried on
several occasions, but ever since Laura’s murky past had come to light, Dorothy
hadn’t been able to get over the duplicity, or was it that she could have
kicked herself for not guessing? After all, entertainers on cruise ships had
quite a stressful time what with performing every night and keeping passengers
amused during the day and there’s no knowing what else they got up to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Much to her own astonishment, Edith had not been a bit
surprised about Laura’s lovechild and she quite understood the necessity for
concealing anything that would cause a scandal in a small community. There was
nothing people liked better than throwing stones. And Laura’s strategy had
worked, after all. In the end Lower Grumpsfield might lack most amenities, but
it was more tolerant of foibles than Upper Grumpsfield. It was providence that
had taken Laura Finch to Lower Grumpsfield, if you discount the fact that the
family home had been there. If her past had been illuminated there, everyone would
have been discrete about it. That would not have been the case in Upper
Grumpsfield, where narrow-mindedness still sometimes reared its ugly head and
whose perpetrators also included a number, if not most of St Peter’s
congregation. Dorothy was basically offended because she felt she should have
been trusted to keep Laura’s secret. But then, Laura Finch had not originally
intended to tell the truth about Jason ever, until events culminated in her
having to. It served her right that Dorothy had given her the cold shoulder
after that revelation. If Dorothy had been lucky enough to have a son, she
would have told the world. Laura Finch was not only a bad mother; she was also
an ungrateful one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As usual, in the run-up to the meeting, Mr Parsnip took
forty winks in his swivelling chair to aid his digestion after Sunday lunch.
The five boys were dispatched to a school mate’s house to watch videos because
it was raining hard and football was not an option. Edith hurriedly finished
the chores and changed out of her flowery baking overall into something less
floury. Laura Finch would be dressed to the nines and Dorothy would be in some
kind of Sunday best outfit. Clare and Karl would not be at the meeting, which
meant that Mr Morgan, who now clad himself in the blue denims his mum despised
and used even more aftershave than usual if on a mission that included the gentler
sex, would devote himself to giving Edith enraptured looks. Mr Morgan’s torch
for Clare was no longer burning with flames of passion, so her absence was
immaterial to his well-being. Clare’s obvious attachment to Karl and her knack
of making Mr Morgan feel foolish had weakened his intent long before he learnt
that she was pregnant. Edith was still accessible, he surmised, though she
wasn’t available either, strictly speaking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith showed Mr Morgan into the living-room and offered him
a very long, very sweet sherry in a tumbler before knocking on the study door
and reminding Mr Parsnip that he had guests to attend to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan did not mind having to attend yet another meeting on a Sunday purely because it was his
best opportunity to be near Edith. Gareth had brought Edith flowers. He must
have been to Middlethumpton to get them, Edith mused. No matter that they were
somewhat bedraggled. It was the thought that counted. A little romance in one’s
life was not to be spurned, no matter how it was instigated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today Mr Morgan had consented to a small detour and given
Laura Finch a lift in his vintage Morris Minor, so she was already seated at
the dining table when Dorothy Price arrived on foot under a large funereal
umbrella that would have kept the rain off her had the downpour not been coming
down sideways in a high wind. No matter, her old Burberry mac was given a good
shaking and a pair of slippers was produced so that her sodden shoes could dry
out on the Aga. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sloppy slippers are not conducive to an authoritative
presence, especially when they are several sizes too large, so Dorothy felt
vulnerable. She hoped there would be no arguments. She might not be able to contradict
Laura as well in carpet slippers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We are gathered here today...” was the vicar’s opening
gambit, followed as usual by “Get on with it!” from Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip proceeded to describe, in laborious detail, the
events leading up to the meeting, starting with Mordred Mortimer’s installation
of the loudspeakers and ending abruptly with an exasperated snort from Laura,
who would have been snoozing on her sofa had she not had a mission of her own
to accomplish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Get that Round Table fellow to mend it then,” was her
suggestion. “He installed it, after all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Round table?” Mr Morgan asked, mystified. Arthurian myths
were something Mr Morgan had not yet come across, so he was not familiar with
the stories about English kings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy knew that getting the equipment repaired was out of
the question given that Frederick was hell-bent on restoring live bells to the
village church. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah, dear lady, but the meeting is to get that ball
rolling.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura was persistent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Which ball?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The bell-ringers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Which bell-ringers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what we have to find out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith felt bound to chip in. So that was what it was all
about. On the quiet she was quite relieved that it wasn’t anything really
dramatic, but she realised that Laura Finch was playing her cat and mouse game
again and leading up to something favourable for her. She was sure that Frederick
would not recognize it for what it was and would try to divert any opportunism
on Laura’s part.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What Mr Parsnip means to say is that he would like to
reinstall live bell-ringers,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How very perspicacious Edith could be at times, the vicar
decided. Maybe he should have taken her into his confidence after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Edith. You put that very well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith purred. Praise was something she did not experience
very often.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s take a vote on it and move on,” was Laura’s reaction.
“All the pros, hands up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura was used to taking the initiative. Chorus directors
invariably had to, but it annoyed Edith intensely. Why didn’t Mr Parsnip manage
to keep control of his meetings?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want to hear more about it first,” said Mr Morgan through
a mouthful of scone. The refreshments, notably the cakes, were out of bounds
till after the meeting, but since they were already waiting on the sideboard,
Gareth Morgan had helped himself to a piece of everything and was swilling it
all down with his sherry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And so you shall, Mr Morgan. So you shall.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith felt the atmosphere cooling rapidly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shall I make some tea?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, that would be nice,” said Dorothy, who had not said
anything up to now. She was cogitating over what Laura had meant by ‘move on’. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Later, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning to Laura Finch, the vicar gave her another approving
nod.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So you agree that we should get live bell-ringers, do you
Laura?” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not a bad idea,” said Laura, grudgingly, looking as coy as
she could manage.. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy thought Frederick was ingratiating himself again<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“In fact,” Laura added, warming to the idea, “I know someone
who knows someone who rings bells.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy Price clenched her fists under the table. How
annoying. Laura would take centre stage, save the day and polish her own
reputation into the bargain. Dorothy’s over-indulgence in late-night black and
white movies, particularly those featuring the exploits of cops and robbers,
had made her rather sensitive to impending evil, though she never got nervous
enough to switch the TV off and go to bed, however late it was. But you could not
switch Laura off once she got going. Dorothy did not like it when Frederick beamed
magnanimously in Laura’s direction, and Laura’s animated participation boded no
good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip’s looked from one lady to the other and back
again. Asking Laura to meetings was problematical with Dorothy being so
negative about her, but Laura always seemed to turn up trumps, and that was
reason enough to put up with the ladies’ feuding. .Anyway, Dorothy was
unusually quiet, which must be a good sign, or so he thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do explain, dear lady,” gushed the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One of my ladies in the chorus has a brother, I think she
refers to him as Gordon. He rings bells in a church the other side of
Middlethumpton. I’m sure he’d help to get it all going. In fact, I expect he’ll
lend you some ringers until you get your own.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Mr Parsnip’s smile had had the power to bring the sun
out, it would have done so. In one fell swoop all his problems had been solved.
What a woman!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And now we can take that vote, can’t we?” Laura concluded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course, dear lady. Hands up all in favour of Laura’s wonderful
suggestion!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy’s hand went up reluctantly and only after a stern
look from the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now we can have that tea, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just one more thing, Vicar,” said Laura.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura sounded triumphant, which of course she was. She would
soon have a clean slate in Upper Grumpsfield. Her duplicity regarding her son
would be forgiven and Jason might even be persuaded to sing there again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy held her breath. Her sixth sense had not let her
down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You remember we talked about my choir putting on a little
concert in the church hall?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that was it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did we? I suppose we did, if you say so, dear Mrs Finch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Call me Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m Frederick,” said the vicar, who was invariably confused
about first names and when to use them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, Frederick, how about a Spring Serenade?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it everybody?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silence greeted that question as everyone remembered the
Finch Nightingales who might have deserved the name Finch Geese. The vicar
interpreted the silent protest as silent assent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m so glad you all agree,” said Laura. ”I’ll phone you with
our possible dates, shall I vicar?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip nodded. What a woman, he was thinking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy could not think of anything she could say or do to
prevent the new-found intimacy between the two protagonists. The Spring
Serenade appeared to be a fait accompli. Her afternoon was spoilt. Was there
nothing Laura would not stoop to?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura made no attempt to disguise her triumph. She would
consult Jason and choose a date when he could take part. But even if he had no time, she was determined
to put on that concert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy refused to be drawn into any kind of discussion on
the topic. She had no intention of offering assistance or support and she
thought, or maybe hoped, that Frederick would regret letting himself in for it.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Leaving the rest of the group helping themselves to the
refreshments, Dorothy said she needed to use the lavatory, collected her coat
from the vestibule, rescued her shoes from the Aga and let herself out through
the kitchen door. Since it was no longer raining, she forgot her umbrella. She
marched home in a bad temper and vowed to put a lot more space between herself
and goings-on in aid of the church in future. There were more important things
to be done with one’s life. Her friendship with Frederick had taken a knocking,
though he didn’t know that yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch continued to plug her chorus plans until long
after tea was over, bombarding Mr Parsnip with her ideas for the concert, with
special emphasis on being able to rehearse at the church hall several times
before the big night. Mr Parsnip found himself acquiescing to everything. His
magnanimity did not escape Edith, who had soon realised that everything Laura
did was only done to further her own cause, the aim being rehabilitation in the
eyes of all and sundry, while Frederick was merely furthering his own salvation.
Edith disliked them both. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgan noticed that Dorothy had gone off in a huff, but
he didn’t care what she thought. She had scowled all afternoon and said absolutely
nothing constructive. She was a silly old bag. Laura Finch was a useful source
of extra income. Playing for her concert would be both enjoyable and profitable.
He might even find one or two new organ aspirants to supplement his salary even
more if he organized a flying saying who he was. The church did not pay well,
and any little extra was more than welcome. He was prepared to cherish Laura.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time Dorothy arrived at her cottage her anger had
subsided into seething disgruntlement. In London it had been easy to get away
from annoyances. In a village it was virtually impossible. People noticed if
you behaved inconsistently. Conformity was the name of the game. Well, time
would tell how conform she would be in future. Frederick had not yet
encountered this aspect of Dorothy’s character, but he was about to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since Dorothy was in charge of music outside of the church
services and the choir, which were Mr Morgan’s domain, people would think she
supported Laura’s endeavours unless otherwise instructed. They had probably
forgotten how awful the Finch choir had sounded at the choral competition a
year or so ago. Dorothy did not think that the ladies would have improved,
though actually, the only way to judge would be to go and listen to them, if
she could contrive to do so without giving the impression that she was on their
side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there was the problem of the bell-ringers. If Laura
Finch really could help to set it all up, then she should be allowed to, since the
vicar would go on and on about it until it happened. But that would leave him
deep in Laura’s debt, which wasn’t at all to Dorothy’s liking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a pretty kettle of fish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Dorothy Price had known just how triumphant Laura Finch
was after the meeting, she would have been even more livid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, Laura had mentioned her chorus to the vicar
several times previously in the hope that she could achieve a level of
brainwashing that would ensure that he would agree to her Spring Serenade. She
had indulged in a form of brain-washing and found Mr Parnsip to be susceptible
to ideas other people thought were good. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy knew that if you suggested something to the vicar
often enough he would eventually believe it was his own idea. Edith Parsnip
often used the technique, but with a guilty conscience. Laura Finch used it all
the time on any likely victim and without any scruples and she, Dorothy, had
been known to resort to the method when faced with an intransigent and stubborn
Mr Parsnip. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy was disgusted that at the meeting about the
bell-ringers, Mr Parsnip had been softened up enough to consent to Laura
Finch’s plan as if it were a long-standing tradition for the Finch Nightingales
from Lower Grumpsfield to hold Spring Serenades in St Peter’s church hall. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Short of emigrating or something equally drastic, Dorothy
would be unable to avoid frequent encounters with Laura in the preparations for
what she anticipated would be a disastrous event. There were even times when
she wished her friend Frederick Parsnip would go back on his word, but he never
did, as a matter of principle. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was only one plausible solution to her quandary. She
would pay her relatives in Wales a visit. That would not look as if she was
running away and she was in need of a change of air. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch’s problem was that she had not yet mentioned her
plans for the chorus to the ladies themselves. As luck would have it, Gareth
Morgan had managed to persuade one of the less desirable sopranos to go out for
a drink with him that very Sunday evening after the meeting, and of course he
told her about the impending concert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Overnight, the garrulous lady phoned all the others with the
news, which resulted in Laura being bombarded with phone calls all day Monday
and all day Tuesday. It wasn’t that the Finch Nightingales were against a
Spring Serenade, but they were unanimously allergic to their music director’s
way of deciding things over their heads. Mr Morgan was, of course, unaware of
the havoc he had caused. He had sworn the soprano to secrecy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Finch Nightingales usually rehearsed in the conservatory
behind Laura’s house. The conservatory was at least as roomy as the house
because the previous occupant, a distant relation of Laura’s and one ahead in
the inheritance line, had once lived in South Africa and was determined to
recreate his subtropical garden somewhere, despite the fact that the British
climate is not a friendly place for heat-loving plants. The conservatory was
adjoined to the back of the house and made entirely of glass. The keeper of the
subtropical garden had spent a fortune keeping it warm enough all winter and
nearly all summer. It was a subversive lawyer who had helped Laura to oust the
subtropical gardener (because he was apparently illegitimate and therefore not
entitled to inherit the house) and install the last of the legitimate Finches
in the family property.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For financial reasons, the conservatory was not heated
except for a crackling oil heater in the centre of the room for when ice had
formed on the glass roof. On the few really sweltering British days everyone
found it much too hot to sing in and for the rest of the year it was much too
cold even without the stalactites. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On days when arctic weather had taken over, the singers
gathered around the old heater and left coats, hats, scarves and gloves on. Laura,
wearing a rather ancient mink coat acquired from an admirer during her cruising
or was it the other career, exhorted them to jump up and down to get the
circulation going. Laura did not tell the ladies that the oil heater exuded
rather poisonous gases. The rehearsals were too short for the gas to do any
harm, she decided. But it did stink.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Poor Gareth Morgan had to suffer the cold without being able
to join the others round the oil heater or jumping up and down, since he had to
perch on a rickety piano stool wearing all his outdoor clothes and his mother’s
hand-knitted gloves with the finger-tips unknitted, and thump out whatever
accompaniment Laura decided was appropriate, which included playing one of
Grieg’s Humoresques for the jumping exercise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How the ladies ever managed to rehearse anything to
performance level is a mystery, but then, people’s ideas differ about what is
fit to be performed. Laura was not nearly as critical of her own chorus as she
was of every other one within a radius of fifty miles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the days before the arrival of Mr Morgan in Upper
Grumpsfield, Dorothy had allowed herself to be coaxed into playing for one of
those rehearsals. It had been a nightmare experience, quite apart from the
cold, and that was actually why she had taken upon herself to advertise for a
new organist in suitable music journals without prior consultation with the vicar,
who thought they were getting along fine with Dorothy playing for the hymns.
The only applicant was Mr Morgan, whom Dorothy immediately invited to come and
look at the organ. The rest is history.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip hadn’t really noticed that Dorothy had left the meeting
without telling him, so engrossed was he in what Laura had to offer quite apart
from her offer of help with the bell-ringing scheme. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although Edith was not fond of Dorothy Price’s way of
getting involved, she had been even less charmed by Laura’s conduct at the
meeting, dreading the now inevitable invasion of the her Nightingales, some of
whom thought they were upper class and talked down to everyone, especially the humble
wife of a mere vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip was shocked when he realized that he had more or
less snubbed Dorothy in favour of cow-towing to Laura for purely selfish
reasons and resolved to make amends the very next day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Straight after breakfast, which as usual had been a rowdy
affair with the five boys squabbling over the boiled eggs, or rather the only
one brown one that had ended up smashed to smithereens on the stone floor, the
toast (bags I get the least burnt piece) and the marmalade (can we have
strawberry instead?) and with the bonus of cocoa spilt all over the table cloth
because everyone wanted his first, Mr Parsnip retrieved his mountain bike, gave
it a quick spit and polish and set off for Dorothy’s cottage. He wasn’t
singing. He usually sang one or other of his favourite hymns gustily as he
bowled along, but today he was too bothered by the anticipated dressing-down he
would shortly be getting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So imagine his surprise when he was greeted with a big smile
and a “Come in and have a cup of tea” instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip was quite unprepared for the magnanimous reception
and therefore speechless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You did me a big favour, Frederick.”<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Up to yesterday I thought I was in competition with Laura
Finch. But now I realise that she’s not a rival after all, but only someone who
is fighting to redeem her reputation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s a very severe judgement, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But considered, Frederick. Redemption is a serious matter.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Indeed it is. I’m glad you’ve decided to go along with my
decision.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What decision, Frederick? I’m not certain that you decided
anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know what I mean, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do and I’m not exactly thrilled, but I understand the
situation and I’d be the last one to spoil a serious attempt by Laura Finch to
rehabilitate herself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lacking Edith’s astuteness in recognizing Dorothy’s tactics,
Mr Parsnip was impressed by Dorothy’s goodness and entirely missed the thread
of the argument. He just nodded wisely and looked longingly at the fresh batch
loaf cooling off on the table. The look did not escape Dorothy. Frederick
Parsnip was her greatest fan as far as her baking was concerned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ll get indigestion if you eat it straight out of the
oven, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll risk it, Dorothy. Not too much butter, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Half an hour and half a loaf later, the vicar took effusive
leave of Dorothy, hoping to see her soon and avoiding any further mention of
Laura Finch. His stomach had been dilated by the gases given off by the fresh
bread, so he didn’t feel too good. He would retire to his study and sleep it
off, he decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s settled him,” Dorothy told Mimi, who was prowling
along the worktop in the direction of the butter dish. Dorothy uttered those
words in such a stern voice that the little cat thought it was a rebuke and
turned tail. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy dialled her niece Victoria’s number. It would be useful
to know if they were likely to be away during the next few weeks. She would say
she was longing to see them all (which was true) and would visit as soon as she
could get herself organized, which meant coordinating her trip with Laura
Finch’s concert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come any time you like, Aunt Dorothy. We’ll be at home
until August, and then we’re going to Scotland for a fortnight. Would you like
to come with us?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy thought she might. Talking to Victoria had saved the
day. Victoria had been surprised that Aunt Dorothy was only planning a trip and
not leaving next day, as was her usual custom. She’s up to something, she
decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-84849486675176124022016-02-03T02:13:00.001-08:002017-01-23T02:51:58.035-08:00(Part 3) 27 - A winter's tale <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Upper Grumpsfield’s
coldest February in living memory. It had snowed almost nonstop all through
January. There was so much snow that you could not tell where the pavements
ended and the roads started. The older children could not get to school in
Middlethumpton by bus and instead spent their days tobogganing down Monkton
Priory hill and skating on the frozen village pond. Everyone agreed that it was
the worst – or best - winter in living memory.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Dorothy thought it was a
blessing in disguise that Upper Grumpsfield was cut off from the rest of the
world, especially Lower Grumpsfield, not least because when Laura Finch told
her she was going to get Mr Parsnip’s to give her permission to put on a
concert at the church hall for her ladies chorus, Dorothy Price’s memory of the
excruciating performance at the choral festival came instantly back to mind. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura, who seemed to have
wheedled her way back into the vicar’s affections, possibly because she had put
on a startlingly good show as an improvisations artist (and Dorothy would not
admit it for all the tea in China), must be prevented at all costs from making
such a suggestion to the vicar, who welcomed every idea with open arms. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy hoped the absurd idea
of dedicating a whole evening to the Finch Nightingales’ caterwauling would be
buried under all the snow. To her delight it was, for the time being. Laura would
not get the positive press coverage after all. Dorothy was shamefully gleeful
that her former friend was thwarted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But as luck would have it,
when a baby decided to be born in Lower Grumpsfield during a snow storm, the
midwife had to be flown in by helicopter, since the only available snow plough
– an improvised piece of ironmongery pushed along by a local farmer –
capitulated, and the powers that be in Middlethumpton needed theirs to clear
their own roads, especially those to and from the town hall and the private
residence of Mr Cobblethwaite, the mayor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura found herself in a new
impro role, that of midwife. That alone would ensure her of nationwide
admirations. It was truly unfortunately for Dorothy that the baby’s parents
lived nearly next door to Laura. The news of Laura’s intervention made the
headlines of the national newspapers and even merited a mention on BBC
television news. To her extreme annoyance, Dorothy was obliged to watch Laura
shaking hands with the helicopter pilot and waving to the cameras. Laura had a
talent for getting into the picture. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even worse for Dorothy, in the
wake of her involvement in the baby’s birth, Laura Finch announced her
forthcoming choral concert. The vicar, who usually had an open ear for
Dorothy’s suggestions and warnings, was overjoyed at the free publicity for his
church. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He had been talked into
Laura’s concert without Dorothy’s knowledge, Dorothy thinking she should be
consulted about every musical event in the village. She would phone the
vicarage forthwith and demand an explanation. After all, she was more or less
in charge of organizing the musical activities at St Peter’s parish church. She
wondered if Mr Morgan had had a hand in the subterfuge. She wouldn’t put it
past him. He was probably being blackmailed by Laura Finch for some sin or
other and he had something to lose since he was being paid to accompany Laura’s
shabby chorus. That’s how highly Dorothy Price now regarded her former friend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few days later, the critical
weather eased off and Upper Grumpsfield was coping again, though the inconvenience
caused by the icy conditions was still the main talking point. A skeleton bus
service now crept warily up and down Thumpton Hill, and a shuttle service was
being provided by Robert Jones in his white butcher’s von, which was equipped
with four wheel drive and even had chains attached to cope with the worst of
the snow and ice, just like vehicles in the Alps. Robert offered to assist
anyone with their shopping, since it was too slippery to go anywhere on foot
safely and everyone was aware that he did not just do that to improve sales. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy was not the only one
grateful for this offer. To everyone’s surprise, Mr Bontemps had managed to
overcome his aversion to making a special effort and was taking orders over the
phone. Robert had helped to deliver those orders, too, since Mr Bontemps’s
ancient Citroen, though an integral part of his Gallic image was only
roadworthy in dry weather and he charged for his delivery service whereas
Robert did not. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The children attending upper
school in Middlethumpton now had long faces. By the following Monday, a regular
bus service would be transporting them to and fro again, putting an end to
their impromptu vacation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy’s next door neighbour,
Mr Barker, who was normally most helpful to older ladies, had not used his car since
Christmas because the door of his garage had frozen shut with icicles dripping
from the flat roof in an most artistic, but inconvenient way. Mrs Barker
thought they could release the car by melting the snow with buckets of steaming
hot water thrown at the ice, but that didn’t help at all. The icicles just got
longer and longer. There was nothing for it but to wait until the thaw set in,
since Mr Barker refused to allow his resourceful wife to light small bonfires
to melt the garage door free.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the other hand, there were
probably more pros than cons to not having a car at their disposal. They could
wrap up warmly and go for long walks instead, Mr Barker decided. Mrs Barker was
not enamoured of that idea. Long walks in any weather were something she could
well do without. Mr Barker told her she should appreciate the snow more. Did
she know that there were millions of people who had never seen snow in their
whole lives? Mrs Barker pointed out that many children born in big cities had
never seen a cow, but were none the worse for that, and she had never been in
the Brazilian rainforest fighting off snakes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t take long for a
full-scale argument to develop in the Barker household. Who had access to what,
being the gist of the debate. The final straw was Mrs Barker’s denial that
Switzerland was land-locked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whoever heard anything so ridiculous?”
retorted Mr Barker. “You’ll have to prove that Switzerland does not have its
own ocean, Jane.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How? We can’t get there in
all this snow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wasn’t thinking of going
there, Jane. Didn’t you do geography at school?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We did Australian sheep, if I
remember rightly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Barker couldn’t think of
anything to say about Australia that would drive his point home. It occurred to
him that anywhere less land-locked than the Australian continent still hadn’t
been invented. He fetched his father’s school atlas, which he cherished for old
times’ sake, but most of whose land and state boundaries would now have to be
ranked as historical, and opened it at the map of Europe. At least Switzerland
had stayed where it had always been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He dabbed an index finger at the
spot. “Satisfied, now?’ he said, looking smug.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the sight of all those
mountains surrounded by countries such as France caused Mrs Barker to shrug her
shoulders and put the kettle on, but there was no running water. The big freeze
had got into the water pipes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Barker was unsympathetic.
He had always been an enemy of British plumbing. In Switzerland they never had
frozen pipes, as far as he could remember from his youthful skiing holidays
there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why?” Mrs Barker wanted to
know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Because the pipes don’t run
down the outside walls, Jane.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But they are put there so
that they can be repaired easily when they freeze.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Barker sighed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They only freeze because they
are on the outside, Jane.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And don’t phone the plumber.
He hasn't got time to melt ice. We’ll just have to wait. You can fetch buckets
of snow in and melt that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is it clean enough?” asked
Mrs Barker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If it’s white it’s clean,
Jane,” replied Mr Barker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Like my washing,” said Jane. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quite a few of the villagers
were having the same water(less) problem, but that was cold comfort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately, thanks to
government hand-outs of various kinds, mainly to preserve the village character
of old buildings rather than have people knocking them down and building modern
ones, some of the cottages in Upper Grumpsfield were now either centrally
heated or furnished with state of the art electric fires mounted in front of
the gaping hole that leads up the chimney. Those heaters gave some hint of
cosiness with the imitation fiery flames that accompanied their warming
elements. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy had one such item. She
preferred that to running to the coal shed all the time for buckets of black
gold to replenish a real fire, though she made an exception on high days and
holidays, when the fake grate was removed and little bonfires built instead,
albeit only when the wind was blowing in the right direction as otherwise the parlour would fill with smoke
and the fire would go out like a damp squib rather than crackle and dance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a notable exception
to the village central heating rule: the vicarage. The big old house had been
built in an age when people either didn’t feel the cold as much, or had not
taken to complaining about it. In any case, no incumbent had ever stayed there
long enough to think about improving things, let alone been rich enough to install
a heating system. Even warm water out of the tap was an innovation added only
shortly before Mr Parsnip had been called to St Peter’s, since emersion heaters
had not been Spartan enough for true Christians. The emersion heater was only
put in on the late vicar’s 90<sup>th</sup> birthday as a present from the
diocese. The old vicar had not lived long enough to appreciate the luxury of a
long, hot soak. Edith Parsnip, as long a suffering vicar’s wife as there had
ever been, had no alternative to lighting coal fires in the living-room and Mr
Parsnip’s study and switching strangely buzzing, ticking and creaking old
electric fires on everywhere else. And if Mr Parsnip wondered who brought the
buckets of coal in to keep the home fires burning, he didn’t let on. His bad
back always occurred during the coal-carrying season.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicarage might be cold and
draughty, but St Peter’s parish church was even colder and a good deal draughtier.
Gareth Morgan, who normally practised for a couple of hours every weekday and
gave organ lessons to anyone who wanted them, was reluctant to stay there for
any longer than it took to get the music sorted out before hurrying back to his
flat and opening up his Hammond organ, which was less grand, but was good
enough for practising on in an emergency. If Mr Morgan was forced to practise
something in the church, he wore gloves with the ends of the fingers and thumbs
free. His mother had knitted them especially for such eventualities and sent
them in a care packet when the first snowflakes started to fall. She had also
sent 3 striped ties, 2 patterned home-knitted pullovers and a matching cap and very
long scarf, all in her favourite matching shades of russet and turquoise, but
they were immediately dispatched to Middlethumpton charity shop, where they
failed to attract attention though their prices were reduced three times and
were eventually given away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As far as Mr Morgan was
concerned, the only two saving graces during the inclement weather were that
first, his mother had not taken it into her head to deliver the gloves
personally and second, if Edith Parsnip happened to see him go into the church
by the side door, which was visible from a side window in the vicarage, she
would hurry over with a thermos flask of hot soup to warm him from the inside.
He was presumably unaware that Edith often found herself on the lookout for
him, whatever the weather, but these days she made no secret of the fact. Edith
had stopped having secrets of any kind, well almost. Old habits die hard.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
***<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
People who live in villages are used to things staying the
same. It’s part of the charm. Life meanders on at a leisurely pace and changes
are not usually welcomed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the other hand, nothing really stays the same anywhere.
If something doesn’t go forwards, it goes backwards. That’s what the village
regulars at The Dog and Whistle said when their home from home closed down. To
them it was the end of the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah Browne, former musical comedy diva, of late an accomplished
pub entertainer, had worked there as a barmaid between engagements and
understandably also mourned the closure of this village institution when the
landlord could not be bothered with it any longer, but she had not had the
money to take over and carry on where he left off. The previous landlord had
already regarded it as a hobby and the pub no longer made a profit. That might
be all right if it was only a kind of extension to your living-room where you
entertained your old cronies, but it was hardly a business proposition, so
Delilah had reluctantly put the pub out of her mind and gone on a vaudeville
type pub tour followed by another and another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually, the Dog and Whistle regulars found interim
refuge in the church hall, where, thanks to Edith, beer and a dart board were
organized on Friday evenings. It wasn’t really up the vicar’s street, but he
recognized that the church would have to take pity on the sorry little band who
had taken to meeting on the common clutching their supermarket liquor, a
situation that attracted tramps and layabouts, thus becoming a disgrace to the
community. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the church hall they were spared the inclement winter
weather. Rougher elements were discouraged, and it did make the vicar feel
magnanimous, which in turn spawned several useful sermons.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Dog and Whistle was not sold. It was a memorial to past
pub glories and in a sorry state of repair. Now Delilah was back in Upper
Grumpsfield, her latest tour having been a riotous success and lasted three
times as long as originally planned, Delilah was wondering what to do next. She
had seen enough and even earned enough on her tour to convince her that the
idea that had sprung to mind the minute she set eyes on The Dog and Whistle
again was perfectly designed to bring Upper Grumpsfield up to date.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having attained modest affluence, Delilah would open a
karaoke bar and bistro with a pub regulars’ corner for good measure. Other
traditional pubs had gone successfully down that road. She would do good trade
with the people who came back from hunting ghosts at the priory, and a little
bird in the form of Gareth Morgan had told her that the pub on Thumpton Hill
was closing down because of the new city orbital planned for Middlethumpton.
That pub had put in a tender to open as a motorway café it was going to call a
‘Diner’ in true American freeway fashion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah was not someone to beat around the bush. In no time
at all the legalities were complete, the lease on the pub was signed, the
forthcoming event publicized in the local press and a grand opening planned for
April 1st. Cleo and Robert would be sure to support her, and she would not be
short of custom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately, the pub had seen much better days and its
state had not been improved by the months it was closed down. In fact, when
Delilah had finished looking in every nook and cranny, she was no longer sure
she even wanted to go on with her project, in which she would give
demonstrations of how to sing along to the karaoke machine before handing over
to the customers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In her dream of success, would-be talents would be
discovered and Mitch, her dreamboat Adonis cum sound engineer from the last
tour would turn up out of the blue to help. He would be in charge of the
technicalities and have acted as talent scout in the Middlethumpton district to
make sure they got off to a good start. After that he would be gratified that
he had invariably been on the right track and they would land in bed together.
It was all a bit far-fetched, but everyone would have had a good time, including
her and Mitch. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The main hitch was that Mitch had gone out of her life for
ever. Why had she not kept in touch? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then Mitch arrived, his last engagement was over, he
said, so he was at a bit of a loose end. He had been the keyboarder on Delilah’s
tour and had also acted as sound engineer. In pubs and halls you cannot be
heard unless supported by microphones and loudspeakers, so he had been
indispensable until the audiences had stopped to listen to the voluptuous Lady
with the sexy voice and low-cut frocks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mitch had taken a fancy to Delilah, but been too diffident
to let her know. He was ten years younger and had only recently been ditched by
his girlfriend, a pale young thing named Maggie who was not into anything much
before she had achieved a wedding ring on her wedding-ring finger. Delilah was
light-hearted, independent and good company. Men swarmed around her like bees
round a honey pot, though she was double the girth of the current beauty ideal
and twice the age of the youngest Romeos.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karaoke had been an extra feature of the pub tour and had
attracted audiences normally found jerking around to jerky music in murky discos.
Young men found that karaoke made them attractive if they sang pop songs more
or less in tune and wiggled their hips. Young women also found it useful to
display their vocal and other physical talents as well as wiggling their hips.
Karaoke was nothing if not productive and often even responsible for new
‘matches’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah was standing in the main pub lounge wondering what
Mitch was doing now when he stole up behind her and made her jump by asking her
if she could find him a job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You look as if you need someone, Del.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before she could stop herself, Delilah had flung her arms
around him in a passionate embrace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mitch! Perfect timing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mitch appreciated being appreciated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Great minds think alike.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Am I glad to see you. Just look at the state of this
place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rack and ruin wherever you look, Del.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I’d only known before...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Before taking it on?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well yes. Would you want to take on this much work?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Probably not, but it has potential and I need a job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I didn’t know you had my address, Mitch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You weren’t hard to find. There’s only one pub Upper
Grumpsfield and only one delicious female like you, Del.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah wriggled herself out of an exceedingly unmistakeable
body to body hug.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you serious about wanting a job?” she said, buttoning
up her blouse and making an effort to look respectable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, but I’ll need a roof over my head and a bed to sleep
in, Del.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah refrained from telling Mitch that there was room for
him in her bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The upstairs rooms are habitable. It’s just the pub that
has fallen into neglect.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s get started then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Upstairs, of course. We need to seal the agreement, Del.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t pay you much until we open.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s OK. I don’t take money for sex and both are incentives
to get a move on, on way or another!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what shall we do first?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Before or after?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delilah did not have to think for long. On the tour she had
avoided serious hanky-panky with anyone, but if she had had any, it would have
been with Mitch, she mused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“After.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two hours later, the newly-installed lovers came down the
stairs. Delilah stood by while Mitch looked around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll order a skip to get rid of the junk, re-do the wiring
and paint the walls.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mitch. You’re a godsend!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what they all said.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-22907216593504992032016-02-02T05:53:00.002-08:002017-01-22T13:58:10.479-08:0026 - The impro show<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy Price was in no hurry to get in touch with Laura
Finch, who had not even phoned her to find out what was going on in Upper
Grumpsfield, though she must have read the newspapers and no doubt Mr Morgan
would have told her his garbled version of events. With only three days left to
go before the impro show, Dorothy finally picked up the phone and dialled Laura’s
number.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She had decided to come straight to the point. Laura Finch
would no doubt bombard her with all sorts of questions, but she would do her
best to be brief and not enter into any moral judgments on anything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you coming on Saturday, Laura?” Dorothy started,
cutting out any small talk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>“Where’ve you been lately, Dorothy? You haven’t been in
touch at all.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Neither have you, Laura. Have you been ill?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura Finch did not feel obliged to tell Dorothy that she had
been teaching a few likely candidates how to do improvisations and was quite
certain that she had discovered some splendid new talent. Lower Grumpsfield
would show Upper Grumpsfield up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A bit out of sorts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not from alcohol, I hope, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t touch alcohol, Dorothy,” retorted Laura, and
Dorothy knew that was a whopping lie. She also wished Laura would not put on
such a whining voice, unless that was one of the symptoms of a hangover after a
drinking binge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you are coming on Saturday, aren’t you, Laura?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yes. I’m going to bring a little group with me. They’ll
be taking part in the show.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Have you told Cleo Hartley? She needs to know how many are
going to participate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I should think the contestants have signalled their
participation to Miss Hartley,” said Laura, choosing her words carefully. She
did not want Dorothy to know she had coached them all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Actually, I just wanted to ask you...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy ignored what Laura was about to asked though she was
curious to know what it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that’s all right then,” she said. “See you on
Saturday, Laura. Come early, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laura would, however, not let Dorothy ring off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wait a minute,” she shouted. ”Why are you in such a hurry?
I want to ask you something else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t it wait?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, it can’t. It’s Cleo. She seemed rather preoccupied on
the phone. Is everything all right with her and that nice butcher friend of
hers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sure they’re fine, Laura. She’s had a lot on her plate
recently.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, you mean that scandalous business with the bishop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I expect so, but don’t enter into speculation, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On anything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll phone the vicarage. I’m
sure they’ll put me in the picture.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t do that, Laura. You’ll find out soon enough. Things
have quietened down now and we’re all glad the journalists have found something
else to write about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You do know more than you are letting on, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really, but Edith needs time to recover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Recover?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“From her amnesia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, it all sounds very fishy to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One day I’ll tell you all about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One day soon, Dorothy. I can’t bear not to know things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ll have to put up with that, Laura. And don’t expect Mr
Morgan to have inside knowledge.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He was friendly with the bishop, though, wasn’t he?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did he tell you that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not in so many words.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I doubt if that bishop would tell Mr Morgan anything.
Gareth Morgan can’t keep a secret for five minutes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He kept his Welsh chorus friends a secret, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was true and Dorothy hated to be reminded of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And he’s been sidling up to quite a few of my chorus
ladies, too. Mr Morgan is a bit of a dark horse.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, dark horse or not, he’s got to be kept in a good mood
till after Saturday, so let’s put aside any reservations we might have, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you say so, Dorothy. Anything else you want me to know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, Laura. See you on Saturday. Don’t be late!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy asked herself why any contact with Laura left her
fuming, although she had vowed to be agreeable. She had even avoided mentioning
Jason. Laura seemed to have been avoiding the topic, too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite having been overshadowed by dramatic events, the
impro theatre evening was a great success. To be truthful, no one, especially Dorothy,
had expected it to be. The idea of amateurs improvising fairy tales had taken
on an air of absurdity, given that real life drama that had been played out
before her very eyes. Even Mr Morgan’s performance as Prince Charming had gone
down well, probably because it was so screamingly funny that no one could keep
a straight face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Bontemps had played a dubious Francophile character in nearly
every story, which gave him an excuse to murder Laura Finch, with whom he no
longer seemed to be on warm terms. She had played a witch or wicked stepmother
in every story, being unstoppably ambitious and insisting on wearing the same
costume all evening, arguing that it awarded continuity, which was plainly
nonsense. Mr Bontemps had claimed that he would make a good wizard and should
be allowed to, since the witch’s cloak and hat were in fact unisex and led o
fierce arguments about whose turn it was to be the baddie. Laura’s disapproval might
explain his growing dislike of her, though she told everyone he sold the best
cheese this side of Harrods and she should have married someone who knew about
cheeses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To cut a long story short, a good time was had by all,
though the accuracy of the stories had left quite a lot to be desired and had
included a wicked satire on the criminal energy of the three Mcduff brothers
who had been magically transformed into the three bears. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the vicar climbed into the pulpit next morning to
deliver the announcements and a sermon on kindling the Christmas spirit, he
found himself facing a whole sea of expectant faces. James McDuff normally came
to a pre-Christmas service and pocketed the collection, ostensibly for
charitable distribution. He had, of course, been written off. He would face
charges as soon as the police had put their case together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The vicar told the congregation that there would be a new
appointment soon. The round of applause that greeted this announcement was
entirely spontaneous. After all, Mr Parsnip had fought valiantly for Upper
Grumpsfield and deserved to be rewarded. He didn’t even know that he was a
hero. Half a dozen Christmas carols later, the congregation emerged from St
Peter’s to be greeted by the first snowflakes falling gently. Mr Parsnip invited
Dorothy to lunch and they hurried across the cemetery back to the vicarage. Beatrice
had gone home. Edith was waiting with the Sunday joint done to a turn. It was
just like old times. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But something had
been nagging at Dorothy Price ever since the bishop scandal had been revealed.
Monkton Priory, Upper Grumpsfield’s historical ruin, had also been on that shortlist
of desirable building sites. It was the only possible alternative in Upper
Grumpsfield now the church grounds were no longer available. She and Cleo would
have to find out who it belonged. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In earlier discussions they had agreed that a supermarket
would not be welcome anywhere, but now St Peter’s had been saved the idea of
property developers contriving to purchase the Monkton Priory land no long
seemed absurd. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So who owned it? For as long as Dorothy could remember, it
had been common land, open for everyone to enjoy. Apart from Cleo Hartley’s
occasional guided tours, usually for people more interested in the ghostly spirits
from the past than the ruins of the present, no one had shown any further
interest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over lunch round the vicarage dining table, she decided to
broach the topic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you positive that the church has no claim on Monkton
Priory, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“None whatsoever, Dorothy. Henry VIII wasn’t interested
because the monks had been gone for ages when he started his purging strategy.
He was only interested the spoils from the monasteries, not in rebuilding unwelcome
establishments or taking over land at the back of beyond, so he must have got
rid of it at the earliest opportunity.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But it must have been sold for gain, so there must be a
historical sale contract somewhere,” Dorothy argued.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Since no one in living memory has claimed ownership, it
will be impossible for anyone to buy it unless the crown steps in and claims it,
but I doubt if the property developers will want to wait for that to happen,
even if it were possible” said Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what actually happened after the monks disappeared, Frederick?’
Edith asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tradition has it that a sheriff who was particularly
assiduous at collecting taxes was given the Monkton Priory lands and an
aristocratic title as a reward. The estate was passed down to his descendants
for centuries. Then one of them got into the gaming habit and lost it all in a
wager. The ownership was handed over to the winner and that was that. No one
found out who had won that bet. Whoever it was took no further interest in it.
Eventually it became known as common land and that’s been the situation for a
very long time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I’m sure that such an important document has been
preserved. It will be in a safe somewhere,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The more Dorothy thought about what she had just said, the
more convinced was she that that was a real possibility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Has anyone done any research, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not to my knowledge.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s never too late,” said Dorothy. “But we should only
tell people we can really trust, or we’ll have those journalists tramping
around Upper Grumpsfield again.” Dorothy, had already had to deal with too many
journalists for her liking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We could ask Cleo Hartley,” said the vicar. “She’s
trustworthy and very good at detecting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy was enthusiastic about that idea. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s phone her now and ask her to help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An hour later, Cleo had joined them and agreed to do what
she could to trace the document proving ownership of the Monkton Priory land. Now
St Peter’s was not going to be demolished, it would be a race against time and
the property magnates. Cleo promised to make a start the very next morning.
Clare said she would manage on her own at the library. Cleo would start by
going to Middlethumpton banks and asking about very old, unattended safes. It
was a long shot and she wasn’t hopeful, but it was the best she could think of
at such short notice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clare was now fascinated by the idea of bringing history to
life, not least because Karl von Klippen was due to arrive any day and would be
sure to want to share in the search.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why don’t we start now, Frederick?” Clare proposed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Today?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We could find out if there are any clues to the identity of
the person who won that wager.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though Mr Parsnip thought it unlikely after such a long time,
he was delighted that Clare was showing an interest. It would take days to sort
through all the church annals, but it would be fascinating in its own right. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if on cue, the phone rang and it was Karl von Klippen to
say he was in Folkestone and would arrive very late. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He’s uncanny,” said Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He’s just in the nick of time,” said Edith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better get home now,” said Cleo. She wanted to discuss
her plan of action with Robert, who liked to get an early night before going to
market at the crack of dawn on Monday mornings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better help you with all those records, Clare,” said Dorothy,
who was at least as curious about the outcome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back home, Cleo told Robert briefly what had been decided at
the vicarage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about your own family records, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It occurred to Robert that the metal box in the loft had
been there forever and Cleo had never shown any interest in it. The loft was
only used to store junk. He had spotted the box when he put his suitcases and
boxes up there. You had to go up a rickety ladder you pulled down from the
ceiling. That was probably the reason Cleo had never been to the top, let alone
balanced precariously on the rafters to investigate the far corners. Now Robert
proposed rectifying the oversight and retrieving the box. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You stand at the
bottom of the ladder and I’ll hand the box down to you,” he instructed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if you slip, Robert? You aren’t exactly elflike. I
don’t think the ceiling would hold your weight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sure it wouldn’t, but it’s worth the risk. I don’t know
why you didn’t get it down before now. There’s bound to be something
interesting in it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I would have, eventually. There’s so much junk up there
that needs sorting out when I get round to it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, now’s the time to get started,” said Robert. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Minutes later the rusty old metal box had been retrieved
from the darkest corner under the eaves. wiped clean of what appeared to be
centuries of cobwebs and dust and deposited on the hearthrug for inspection. It
was locked. Robert prised it open with various tools and a pile of yellowed old
papers came to light. There were no documents referring to Monkton Priory, but
at the bottom of the box was a collection of rusty keys. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, what if…” Robert repeated. “You’ll have your work cut
out tracing the locks to match all these, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll try bank safes tomorrow, Robert. I was planning to do
that anyway.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One of the keys is for this box. And look! Here are some
door keys. I wondered where all the keys of this cottage had gone. What a silly
place to put them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I assume this box belonged to your father, Cleo. I wonder
if your mother knew about it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I shouldn’t think so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Three of the door keys did fit doors in the cottage. Robert
thought the two smallest ones might well be safe keys. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That gives me a very good reason for going round the banks.
I almost wish my mother were here. She would know which bank my father used. He
had money sent to her for years and years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Phone her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d rather not, Robert. You’ve seen her in action. She’d
revel in all this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And it might be a false alarm, of course. We don’t know if
there’s a Hartley safe anywhere, and if there is one, it’s probably empty. It
wasn’t mentioned in your father’s will, was it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, but he left me the cottage with all the contents. Look,
here’s a copy of the deeds. And here’s photo of me as a baby and the letter my
mother sent to him begging him to support me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Fancy him not owning up to such a pretty daughter.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know what the villagers are like, Robert. It’s like a
microcosm. Somehow, different rules apply. They did a lot of checking up on me
when I came here because they had closed up like clams after my mother left and
was never mentioned again. My father was just as bad as the worst of those
bigots. He kept his secret right up to the end and even after the rest of the
family had passed on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But he never forgot you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, but he never wanted to meet me either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And now you’ve got a box of old papers to mull over and a bunch
of keys to identify.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And that’s got to happen tomorrow, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t expect too much.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s have a nightcap and turn
in now. It’s nearly midnight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sleep evaded Cleo. So much had happened recently. She almost
wished her mother would turn up out of the blue. It might solve one or two
mysteries. Cleo didn’t know that Gloria was almost on her way to
Middlethumpton. The only person who knew about Gloria’s plans was Clare, who
had kept up regular contact and dealt with the business connected with the
apartment in Middlethumpton that Gloria had rented. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Karl von Klippen turned up even later than he had predicted.
He and Clare had plenty to talk about. Most of the time they talked about
themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m here to stay if you want me to, Clare,” he told her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do want you to, Karl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that’s okidoki then, isn’t it?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it was…okidoki.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next morning Karl and Clare announced their intentions at
the breakfast table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But I can only stay on one condition,” Karl said, looking
at the Parsnip boys. “And that is that I don’t get shot again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tension was broken. Everyone congratulated everyone else
and Mr Parsnip remarked that the whole family had come a long way in a short
time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There is something else, though.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All eyes were on Clare now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Remember the night of the fire?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We drank coke and sat outside in the dark,” chirped Cedric,
who had been deeply affected by the whole episode. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I, we...”, said Clare. “Well, to cut a long story
short...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith understood immediately, but everyone else was agog for
more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wanted to wait with my news a bit longer, but since you
all seem rather curious...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Curiouser and curiouser,” recited the twins, who were
deeply impressed by Lewis Carol’s quaint language.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Time for school now,” said Edith, who thought Clare’s
imminent announcement would disrupt the morning routine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re not....” gasped Karl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
´”I am. We made a baby.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They’ve made a baby,” Cedric informed the twins in an awed
whisper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How?” they wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edith interrupted this dialogue firmly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Never mind that now. Off to school with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By now the only person not to have got the message was the vicar,
but then, he was always the last to know anything of importance. Monday
mornings were trying enough, what with a week of problem-solving and sermon-writing
ahead. He hoped Clare and Karl would be thinking of moving out of the vicarage
into a place of their own. On the other hand, he had been able to try out all
his new ideas on Karl and Clare had been a godsend to Edith in recent weeks.
Was this the right moment to ask them to stay on indefinitely? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I must rush now,” Clare was saying. “Cleo phoned last night
to ask me to open up this morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The magic moment of revelation had been pre-empted by
Cedric’s observation, but no one really minded. Karl von Klippen jumped up and
said Clare was not to drive in her condition.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why ever not? I’m perfectly well. Having a baby isn’t an
illness! But you can come too, of course. I’ll need some help. All the people
who finished their books at the weekend will want to bring them back this
morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Parsnip thought he could devise next week’s sermon on the
strength of the news about the baby. Inspiration flowing, he darted off into
his study to get started. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arguably the most interesting Monday morning was had by
Cleo, who was hall bent on solving the mystery of those rusty keys before the
day was out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was in luck. At the second bank in Middlethumpton High
Street it turned out after intense perusal of old lists that there was a
Hartley safe in the darkest corner of the cellar. The keys still fitted. The
safe contained a document confirming that the ownership of Monkton Priory had
been transferred to someone named John Hartley a century ago. Cleo read it
several times before rolling it up and putting it back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She would leave it where it was for now. Robert would have
to know, of course, but he would be happy to carry on as before. The mystery
was solved. Incredibly, the fate of Monkton Priory was tucked away in the old
Hartley safe. Upper Grumpsfield would not have to move with the times. The
village was delivered from a fate worse than death. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ll donate the Priory to the nation when the time comes,” Cleo
told Robert. “I can’t think of anything I could do with it apart from guided
tours.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You might want to consult Dorothy first,” Robert mused. “Though
I’m sure she’ll agree with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’ll be the first to know, Robert. That’s the least I can
do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-17158977149799933152016-02-02T05:31:00.000-08:002017-01-22T13:25:19.044-08:0025 - Whys and Wherefores<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo had often asked herself why the bishop had not wanted
to be addressed by his name. Why was the name James on the contract and not
that of John or Robert? Was it James who had studied theology? If he was one of
the brothers, was he now sure that he would not be rumbled? Or – and this was
the most relevant question - was James McDuff even the real bishop under some
kind of pressure? Had his brothers or some other influences forced him into being
like he was? Was he being blackmailed? If so, by whom and for what reason?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Her phone call to the archbishop’s office shed more light on
the matter, but left Cleo bemused. James McDuff was indeed the name of the appointed
bishop. But the bishop they knew could be one of the other brothers if he
wasn’t the real bishop, if they had swapped names and assuming a second brother
had committed fratricide. Why would a genuine man of the cloth behave so
despicably? Or was the brother who lived on his wits the trouble-maker? She
would take an even closer look at the documents she had obtained from the bishop’s
office. Fortunately, she had taken the precaution of making copies before
handing them over to the police. She was not sure what she was looking for this
time, but something told Cleo that all three brothers were involved in some
way. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo phoned Gary Hurley to tell him about her finds at the
bishop’s office. She was treated to a lecture about breaking and entering.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Stuff it Mr Hurley,” Cleo said. “Do you want the documents
or don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes. Can you drop them in to HQ?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t take the time, but I’ll get someone else to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thanks, Miss Hartley and don’t take my garbage about
breaking and entering to heart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I wasn’t going to,” retorted Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the meantime the police had also ascertained that James
McDuff was the name of the officially appointed bishop. They had obtained a
copy of various documents he had signed on behalf of the diocese and the
signature on them was identical with all the other written samples they
compared. Gary felt bound to pass that information on. Cleo felt bound to tell
Mr Hurley that there were actually three brothers who could probably pass for James
McDuff. Hurley was not pleased that she knew that. He had kept that bit of
information back. It was thanks to Rick that she knew about the birth of
triplets in Scotland all those years ago. She did not tell Hurley where she got
her information and he did not ask. Hurley and Hartley were not getting on well
together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When James McDuff was approached in his hospital bed for
questioning – and he was being guarded by a police rota as much for his own
safety as to ensure that he did not get away - he was uncooperative,
complaining that he was in too much pain. There was nothing for it but to wait
until his condition improved, the doctors insisted. But the bishop was
play-acting. When the bishop’s secretary got to the office next morning, having
decided not to take the week off, after all, since her boyfriend had to work
anyway, who did she find sitting as his desk, but the bishop himself in a
jovial mood? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah, there you are, Chrissie,” he greeted her. “I’m going to
close this office until after Christmas and you can take a holiday until you
hear from me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you well enough, Sir?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I’m sure. I’ll be out of town for a while. Church
affairs, you know. I won’t need a secretary. Go home and enjoy yourself, my
dear.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With Chrissie safely out of the way, John McDuff, who had been
phoned by his brother and given instructions about finding and removing any
suspicious documents, and had fooled Chrissie into believing he was her boss,
sorted through all the bishop’s papers with a view to disposing of anything
associated with property deals. It would be worth his while. The McDuffs did
not do one another gratuitous favours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John McDuff could not judge whether anything was missing, so
he would to report to his brother James that all the documents he thought might
be relevant had been removed, not actually saying who removed them since he had
not found anything incriminating. It was just his bad luck that on her way to
the bus stop Chrissie bumped into a plain-clothes detective who had been
assigned to make a brief assessment of what had to be done at the bishop’s
office and seal the premises. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think you came out of the bishop’s office just now,
didn’t you?” the detective said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chrissie didn’t think there was anything strange about that
question.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Sir. The bishop has given me a holiday until after Christmas.
He’s going away on business and doesn’t need a secretary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“‘So he told you that, did he?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Sir. He’s still in the office sorting out the papers
he needs for his trip.”’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is he indeed?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Sir. Anything wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, nothing wrong. You just run along.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon as the girl was out of earshot, the detective took
out his mobile phone and summoned assistance. The bishop was laid up in
hospital, so the man in the office must be a look-alike to have fooled his secretary.
Minutes later a police commando was able to arrest him without a struggle. A
feather in their cap and more headlines for the tabloids.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though gratified at hearing about the arrest – and Mr Hurley
had been kind enough to phone and inform her - Cleo still thought they had all
overlooked something. On the spur of the moment, she asked if they had any
photos of the bishop’s driver and could she come to HQ and look at them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A brief glance at the two photos of the McDuffs known to the
police and Cleo confirmed that they were interchangeable as far as looks were
concerned. The photo of the bishop’s chauffeur, taken by a security camera in
the hotel foyer showed a burly looking man with a full beard and wearing thick
horn-rimmed glasses. He had shoulder length hair. He was altogether a bit scruffy
and Cleo wondered how he had managed to get the job of driver. Unless... <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked at the photo of the bishop again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you modify this?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On the computer screen or with a marker?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you change things on photos digitally?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Madam, we have the newest computer programmes. What do want
me to do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you put glasses on the bishop’s nose. Some like the
ones on this photo of the driver? And a beard like the driver’s? And lengthen
his hair.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This took hardly any time at all. The IT expert was even
able to mount one photo on top of the other. All the photos were printed, including
a brand new one of the guy they had picked up at the bishop’s office. Now it
was unmistakeable. You could hardly tell one man from the other. A DNA test
would prove without doubt that the driver they knew as Jim Cross was in fact Robert
McDuff, the third brother. Or was he John? Or even James? An exchange of names
within the trio would be almost impossible to prove.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The following morning the newspapers again graced the first
page with the latest on the McDuff case, but this time there were four photos (two
of the guy calling himself Jim Cross).Were all three into a fiendishly clever
plan. Cleo now believed that the bishop really was the genuine article,
corrupted or abetted by his two siblings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The days following the identification of the three McDuff
brothers produced no further sensations and slowly things returned to normal,
which for Dorothy and Cleo meant a concerted effort to get the arrangements for
the impro theatre show finalized. Bafflement about the McDuff brothers would
not get that evening staged. As the show was to be part of the run-up to
Christmas and was replacing the usual entertainment, it would have to be worth
watching. In the light of what had being going on elsewhere recently, it was
admittedly difficult to focus on the event.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happily, Mr Parsnip was able to dismiss the issue of St
Peter’s closing. He had been reassured on best authority that no such thing
would happen. For the coming Sunday the vicar had therefore composed a very
special sermon that was broadly based on the adage that home is where the heart
is. He would expose the bishop’s misdeeds from the pulpit and promise his
congregation that his heart was and always would be in Upper Grumpsfield. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It should be added that writing this sermon had moved him to
tears and he could feel the missionary fervour overcoming him. He would have to
practise hard if he were to retain control of his emotions during the service.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was Edith’s disappearance less than two weeks earlier? She
had completely recovered her memory and was feeling much better, a condition
that was boosted by the knowledge that the evil bishop was now out of
circulation, having been moved to a prison hospital where he would continue his
convalescence behind bars, his phantom pains having been disclosed for the sham
they were. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clare stopped worrying about her sister and was glad to
stand in for Cleo at the library during the investigations into the McDuff
crimes, a process that was still ongoing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Supported by Mr Hurley who had offered Cleo his first name
in recognition of her work on the McDuff case, Cleo decided to investigate the
property developers, something the cops could not do alone under a blanket of
secrecy. Her theory was that a McDuff brother who was not the bishop had worked
there and gained inside knowledge. The company had not actually committed a
crime unless they blackmailed the bishop. Gary agreed. He know understood that
Cleo was a private investigator, and though he disapproved of women being
private eyes, he was prepared to go along with this woman he had never met wo
was plainly intelligent enough to do a good job. On her part, Cleo was curious about
what Gary and his colleagues could achieve. She hoped they would use their
databases to uncover any previous crimes known to have been committed by one or
other of the McDuffs. The third brother, killed in the road accident, was
beyond redemption, so any investigation into his affairs would be purely to tie
up loose ends. Was he the ruffian the third triplet was claimed to be? The two
surviving Mcduffs were unlikely to reveal anything about him that they could
keep hidden, especially their true identities. A heightened version of loyalty
among thieves, Cleo mused, the biggest question of all being “Who did what? <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-37512749297893352922016-02-02T04:29:00.001-08:002017-01-22T14:00:13.155-08:0024 - Butcher's wife reveals all<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
How the details of the bishop’s corrupt actions made it to
the first page of the national tabloids by next morning was to remain a mystery.
Even Dorothy was not to know that Cleo had connived with the journalist to help
him to the scoop of his career. Suffice it to say that the ambiguous heading that
had not been thought up by Cleo had the desired effect on the citizens of Middlethumpton
and District.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>When Robert opened his shop and picked his newspaper up off
the floor behind the letterbox, he had no time to ponder over the implications
of that heading when the first of a stream of customers entered.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Have you seen the paper?” was the usual approach. “First I
thought you’d been led up the garden path by a loose woman, but fortunately I
then read the whole article. Your wife’s a real Sherlock Holmes, Robert. You
must be very proud of her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert Jones was thankful that people had taken the trouble
to actually read the report, otherwise they might all have come to entirely the
wrong conclusions. Some did say that they thought the headline was a bit saucy
considering the seriousness of the matter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Embarrassing, you mean.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robert Jones was concerned that Cleo had possibly told the
papers the story they had printed. He would ask her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh come on, Robert. You know what journalists are like.
Anything to sell a story and this one is certainly worth its weight in gold.
Fancy the bishop getting up to such dirty tricks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a shop full of people exchanging their opinions on the bishop’s
conduct, Robert was having a hard time getting them to place their orders. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that journalist certainly didn’t waste any time,” Robert
said, wondering what Cleo would say when she read the headline.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where is your wife now, Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not my wife yet. She’s gone to her office.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I think she deserves a medal. No one wants a
supermarket in Upper Grumpsfield, do they?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This question, posed by a very vociferous customer to no one
in particular, was greeted with “Never!” from the crowd and very soon a
deputation had been established to make sure that the property developers got
nowhere near St Peter’s. If necessary, they would organize a sit-in. You can’t
demolish a building if there’s someone inside it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can’t stop those property gangsters forever if they
have a legal contract,” Robert said. “But with a bit of luck the whole scheme
will be dropped now the corruption has come to light.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“One thing really puzzles me,” one of the customers said. “And
that’s the bishop’s real name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No one has. He’s always been referred to as The Bishop. He
wanted it that way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Perhaps his name would reveal something we should not find
out about him,” remarked someone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He had to use it on the contracts for the sale of the
parish land, and quite by chance my wife got copies of them His name is signed
on them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, what is it then?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“James McDuff.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There’s nothing strange about that name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He’s hiding something,” someone said. “What if he isn’t
what he says he is?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What happened to the bishop before him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He died.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that can happen to anyone. Were there mysterious
circumstances?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t think so. He was over 90.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really fit to choose his successor then!” someone
shouted and was rewarded with a round of applause. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It occurred to Robert that the old vicar might have been
forced to recommend the new one, but surely that’s not the way bishops were
appointed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was with some difficulty that an Inspector from
Middlethumpton police was able to squeeze through the reception committee that
had formed outside the shop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s all this about?” he called.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s the headlines this morning,” said Robert. “I think there
must be an informer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t worry about that,” said the officer. I’m D.I. Gary
Hurley and we decided publicity was the best deterrent in this case. The archbishop
will deal with everything now he knows that a criminal was in charge of the
diocese.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does that mean that you have been conniving with Miss
Hartley?” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We talked on the phone,” said Hurley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did you say the bishop is an imposter?” someone asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We don’t know the details yet, but it’s on the cards that the
man named James McDuff was not the person appointed bishop. The old bishop put
in a good word for him, but it’s a mystery how he got away with it this long. That’s
why I’m here. To make sure none of his cronies turn up to sort you out, Mr Jones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about Miss Hartley? She’s in real danger. Don’t bother
about me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’re onto it. She’s under surveillance.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know how often has the bishop been to this parish?” Hurley
wanted to know. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There wasn’t much with him until the choir festival last
year, when the vicar invited him to judge. He came too. He must have had plans
even then!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ It is possible that the bishop was preparing some kind of
deal, “ said Hurley. “I’m just surprised that your vicar – what’s his name
again? – was so naive.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mr Parsnip’s a good man, but he takes everything at face
value and he’s nervous about people he perceives to be his superior.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the meantime, the noise and bustle had woken Mr Morgan. He
flung open the window over the shop and shouted “What’s going on here at this
ungodly hour?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ungodly deeds,” someone shouted back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The bishop’s crimes have been discovered.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What bishop? What crimes?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Haven’t you seen
this morning’s paper?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t get a newspaper. I can read Mr Jones’s when he’s
finished with it now I live here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well you’d better get dressed and come down. Then you’ll
find out what’s up,” said Hurley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t take Mr Morgan long to get dressed, drag a comb
through his pomaded hair and leap down the stairs to join the throng.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The bishop name is James McDuff and we think he might be an
imposter,” said Hurley, looking askance at the little man with greasy hair and
extraordinary clothes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Never. He was so enthusiastic about my music. Asked me all
sorts of questions about the church, too. Really interested, he was.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He would be, wouldn’t he? That was part of his plan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What plan?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To sell the parish land to a property developer working for
a supermarket chain,” said Hurley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’ve certainly done your homework,” said Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Part of the job, Mr Jones. We have a corpse on our hands
and a seriously injured bishop. That’s why the homicide squad was called in. We
don’t know if the car accident was an attempt to assassinate the bishop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr Morgen looked frightened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It could have been me. Is that why he offered me a new job?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you sure he did that?” Hurley asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well not exactly, but he hinted that I might have to move
on and asked would I be interested in a new position?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you sure he was talking about a job, Mr Morgan?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, to be truthful, he didn’t actually mention what the
job would be, but I thought...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Think again,” interrupted Robert. “You’ve been fooled as
much as the rest of us round here.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anxiety had taken the place of Mr Morgan’s cockiness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d better go and
see how things are at the vicarage,” said Gareth Morgen “They probably need my
support.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What makes you think that?” said Robert. “You shouldn’t go
to the vicarage now. Mrs Parsnip doesn’t know that we called the police in and
she doesn’t need to be worried by any of this just yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Edith Parsnip had read the newspaper article. The vicar
had thoughtlessly left the newspaper on the kitchen table. She phoned Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is it all true?” she wanted to know. “Have they arrested
him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy thought that as long as he was laid up in hospital
and his whereabouts known to the police and they would just keep an eye on him.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s my fault,” Edith said. “If I hadn’t lost my memory
like that...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you hadn’t lost your memory, the whole scandal would not
have been discovered and St Peter’s would probably have been closed by next
week. Property developers move fast once they have the land in their
possession. Just be thankful that you DID lose your memory, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy realized that it had been a near thing with the takeover
of the parish land, an action that was now known to be due to a scrupulous deal
being made by a phony bishop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course I’m sure. Cleo Hartley is investigating, so we
can be sure that no stone will be left unturned. She can go places and ask questions
they can’t. This evening we shall know more.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How can I thank you all?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just keep calm and wait for more news, Edith. I’ll keep you
posted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy wondered if Frederick Parsnip had really had no idea
that the bishop was up to no good. The bishop had put on a very convincing act
whenever he had turned up in Upper Grumpsfield. Under normal circumstances the
contract with the developers would have been signed and sealed by now. Why had the
bishop not simply gone ahead and just done it? Did the seduction of poor Edith
take precedence in that man’s evil mind? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dorothy watched a lot of whodunits on TV and had seen many a
criminal go just a step too far for one reason or another. She decided that the
bishop had been planning to keep the act going until his cut in the deal was
safely tucked away in some bank account or other and the demolition of the
church and the vicarage could start. If necessary he would subject poor Edith
to more humiliation. When the deal was in the bag the bishop would disappear
with the spoils. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The more she thought about it, the more horrific did Dorothy
find the scenario. How had James McDuff inveigled the old bishop to put in a
good word for him? Unless the Archbishop had indeed appointed a successor and
the real bishop was done away with by his imposter. Whoever it was knew a lot
about church affairs. Dorothy decided that there was a lot more to this whole
business than met the eye. In fact, it was on the cards that James McDuff was a
murderer, as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meanwhile Cleo Hartley was continuing with her own
investigations. How could James McDuff have taken the place of the elected bishop?
The previous bishop had died of natural causes, at least, that was the conclusion
everyone had come to. An elderly man dying did not raise suspicion. If he had
been murdered, it was too late to do anything about it. The old man had been
cremated. There was no way of finding out if he had died a natural death. A new
one had been appointed, as was customary in such cases. What had prevented the
legitimate new bishop from taking up his position? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A phone call with Dorothy in which Dorothy voiced similar ideas
on the case tied in Cleo’s instinct that the fake bishop had managed the whole
business. She decided she would first have to find out who James McDuff really
was. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo remembered the archives at the library. They were not
consulted much these days. People were more concerned with what had happened
the previous day than what had happened in the past. The archives contained all
the diocese newsletters going back to the year dot thanks to the previous
librarian’s hobby interest in parish affairs and her collector’s passion.
Combing through them was a challenge so Cleo decided to start with the most
recent newsletter and work backwards in the hope that something would turn up. To
her relief, she found recent records of clerical appointments. What she
discovered in the one dated from the month the new bishop had been appointed was
mind-boggling. The man on the photograph was the spitting image of the fake bishop.
Her next task would be to track down a family named McDuff who probably had
identical twins or two boys you could not tell apart. That might explain why
the phony bishop had got away with it for so long. But that still did not
explain why Mr Parsnip had not noticed anything amiss, and it did not shed
light on the idea that one brother could be a high churchman and the other a
criminal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo fished around in her capacious handbag for the bit of
paper with the journalist’s phone number. She would put him onto it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Rick, I’ve got a big favour to ask you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cleo. That was quick. Seen the newspapers this morning?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure. Were you responsible for the headline?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry about that, but it’s a hot story and even hotter if
you get people really hyped up. We sold an extra two thousand plus of that
issue.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who was the horse? I thought I’d told you quite a bit
confidentially!””<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A cop named Hurley. You should meet him. Cleo. He’s a good
cop and does not tell idle stories.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Does he know that I’m not a butcher’s wife?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I shouldn’t think so. Does it matter?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s OK for me, but my fiancé is probably in shock.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hurley called us with the story and asked for immediate publication.
I happened to have night duty. I had to pretend I didn’t know you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Definitely better than telling everyone I’m a private investigator.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am now, Rick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So what can I do for you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Find out if that family named McDuff had identical twins or
look-alike kids born between forty and fifty years ago. It’s a tall order, but
if anyone can deal with it, you can, Rick. At least one of them may have a
criminal record.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I won’t waste time asking why you need the information.
Surely one McDuff is enough.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The guy must have had at least one accomplice, Rick. Who
better than a brother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Give me an hour or two. Can I reach you at the library?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sure. I’ll be waiting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cleo did not have to wait long. Rick was an experienced
journalist who knew exactly where to tap into information. The name McDuff was
Scottish. He would start in Scotland. It was child’s play in the end. The
Mcduff family came to fame through the birth of triplets, three identical boys,
Robert, John and James. The Glasgow Herald sponsored the family for 10 years.
After that, the family moved to south of the Scottish border and the newspaper
lost interest. Further research revealed that one of them had entered the
church, another had learnt accountancy and the third was living on his wits. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Awesome! So there were three McDuffs. Cleo knew that one of
them was almost certainly in the Middlethumpton hospital. The next task would
be to locate the other two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-87488447330365650582016-02-01T15:41:00.003-08:002017-01-22T05:24:58.654-08:0023 -The bishop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo Hartley was optimistic when she left her cottage
early on Monday morning. The bishop had not known that he would be rumbled and would
not have covered his tracks. Now he was out of action, he could do little to protect
his selfish interests. This was an ideal opportunity to get to the bottom of
what was going on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Since her library would not be able to provide her with
details of building projects, her first stop was at Middlethumpton press
office, where she was allowed to look up recent records, assisted by an
enthusiastic journalist who just happened to be doing his own bit of local
research and immediately sniffed a story. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Back numbers of various newspapers and journals produced
only one lead, but one she was sure would be of use. It was a plan for a large
trading centre in Upper Grumpsfield with tenders invited for a large site on
which to build it. Stapled to the article was a copy of a memo addressed to the
bishop’s office and containing only two possible building sites: the land
between Monkton Abbey and Monkton Way, which had, however, been earmarked by
the National Trust for when the owner became known, and – sure enough – the
land surrounding St Peter’s Parish Church, which would also entail demolishing
all the buildings on it. But the land would first have to be made available by
the owner. The owner was the Church of England. The person responsible for the
diocese was the bishop. Unfortunately, there was no signature, so there was
little hope of tracing the author of the original memo. The journalist doing
research pocketed it. He would find out who was responsible. It was
hand-written. Graphology was one of his other interests. They exchanged names
and phone numbers and promised to keep each other posted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
An hour later, Cleo had reached the bishop’s office and
was chatting up a young girl who claimed to be in charge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
‘I’ve come straight from the bishop,” Cleo told her. “He
asked me to collect the documents for the Upper Grumpsfield negotiations and
take them to him. He’s going to deal with the business by phone while he’s
recovering from his little accident.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The girl was shocked to learn that the bishop had had an
accident and enquired solicitously into the health of the bishop. All the rest
of Cleo’s story was, of course, pure fantasy, but the girl swallowed it and
turned to the filing cabinet to fish out the requested papers while Cleo was
thinking to herself that it was all too good to be true. The original of the
informer’s memo was actually in the ring binder, but not signed. That was not
unusual for a memo, especially as it was illicitly provided information. Cleo
thanked the girl, told her to take the rest of the day and the rest of the week
off on special orders from the bishop and set off for home. She would study everything
and then decide on the next step. There was no danger that her identity would
become known prematurely. She had given the girl a fictitious name, worn
glasses and ahead-scarf, and spoken without any trace of American accent.
Better safe than sorry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Later that day the bishop recovered consciousness and
immediately demanded a telephone to attend to what he defined as urgent clerical
affairs. But Cleo was already several steps ahead of him. His office phone was
unattended, so he did not find out about Cleo’s visit from anyone and was
unlikely to that week since the girl was taking an official holiday and would
be unlikely to be available for work. In fact, it was likely that she would
avoid any contact with the bishop since that might be instructions to return to
the office immediately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That same evening, Cleo had some explaining to do to
Robert, who was a bit anxious about the wisdom of meddling into the bishop’s
business. He was also shocked that Cleo would use such dubious means of getting
at her information, though it had been worthwhile. Cleo’s assurances that it
was all in a good cause eased his concern for her safety but she called him an
old woman for meddling in things he did not understand and a fine friend for
not trusting her judgement. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sometimes Cleo had her doubts about Robert’s ability to
think outside the box, but the main issue now was how to tell the vicar who, in
Cleo’s opinion, did not even want to know that there was a box to be outside
of. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When Dorothy phoned Cleo to ask about the impro theatre event,
Cleo immediately had the bright idea of inviting her round to the cottage for
an impromptu meeting the following evening. She then phoned Mr Parsnip and
invited him to attend a theatre show meeting, without mentioning the results of
her detecting, but explaining that it would be better not to have the meeting
at the vicarage while Edith was still recovering from her ordeal. With Edith’s
recovery going so well, they should not risk spoiling things. After all, Edith
would expect to sit in on the meeting, as usual, even if she didn’t contribute
anything beyond light refreshments, and that might be too much for her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Since Tuesday was one of Laura’s choir practice evenings,
at which Mr Morgan would be playing the piano, it was a good excuse for not
inviting those two members of the committee. And that was just as well, since
Mr Morgan’s discretion could not be relied on and none of it was any concern of
Laura’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Next morning Cleo brought Clare up to date during their
brief lunch break. Clare was shocked, dismayed and disgusted in turn. Their
suspicions had been confirmed beyond doubt. The bishop was planning to sell out
Upper Grumpsfield parish church and almost certainly for personal gain. He
would have to be stopped. But how? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, you could go to the hospital tomorrow afternoon
and find out how things stand,” suggested Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“As Clare or as Edith?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“As Clare. We don’t want to risk the bishop getting even
more obscene ideas about poor Edith. I’ll be interested to know if he makes a
pass at you instead. Tell him you’ve been out of town for a while and play the
innocent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Cat and mouse.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Only you’ll be the cat. He’s been in that role for long
enough.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo had just finished rustling up some savouries and
cookies to hand round when Dorothy Price and Frederick Parsnip turned up at the
cottage. Robert said he would be around but did not want to participate. He
would just listen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The meeting started harmlessly enough. Cleo produced the
list of would-be actors for inspection. To everyone’s relief it was a long one
and Dorothy was delighted to see that there would be enough men and boys to
save her having to cast women in the male roles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We’ll meet at six p.m. and I’ll cast the actors in
whichever fairy-tale they are to perform. I’ll write all the stories out so
that they know exactly what’s going to happen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I can type them for you, Dorothy,” Cleo offered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No need, Cleo. I’ll print them from my laptop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Wow!” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I could not just have a computer and no printer, Cleo. I
felt helpless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The vicar was impressed. He still used a pencil to make
notes if he hadn’t sharpened them all to extinction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We’ll let the audience
in from seven o’clock and start the entertainment half an hour later.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I’ll organize some drinks,” offered Robert, who had
ostensibly been reading the paper but had heard every word. “Just soft drinks
and no alcohol. Actors need to lubricate their throats, not deaden their brains.
Shall I include coffee, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Great, Robert. And tea, of course. Hands up those who accept
Robert’s offer of drinks for the show.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was unanimous approval.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The vicar wanted to know what they could award as prizes
that didn’t cost much. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I think the complete plays of Shakespeare in one volume would
be appropriate,” said Dorothy. ”There’s a special Christmas offer on at the
bookshop in Middlethumpton and I’ve already bought one for my niece Victoria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo offered to get more of them. Of course, only the
winning team would get one each, but they could raffle some off with the
audience if they sold the tickets at the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That’s a good idea,” approved the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The vicar wanted to get home, but Dorothy was still not satisfied
with the arrangements.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“One other problem is how we’ll decide who is going to
win.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Let’s let the audience decide,” Cleo suggested. “They’ll
decide which group was the most entertaining and we’ll give prizes to the actors.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That sounds like a sensible idea,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, that’s settled then,” said the vicar, rising to
leave. He was truly thankful that everything had gone without a hitch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Wait a minute, Mr Parsnip. We have another more serious
matter to discuss. It’s connected with Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But now Edith has recovered most of her memory
everything will be all right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Not everything, Mr Parsnip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo opened the file with the damning evidence against
the bishop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“There’s the small matter of selling the land on which St
Peter’s stands to a property developer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mr Parsnip sat down again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I suppose it was inevitable.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What do you mean, Frederick?” Dorothy asked. She was up
in arms. There had been rumours, but she hadn’t believed them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“The bishop wants to integrate the parish into
Middlethumpton. I’ve been fighting it and I thought we were making progress,
thanks to our new activities. But now I realise that it was all in vain.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But you will lose your job and your home,” said Dorothy.
“Don’t you want to fight for them?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How?” he replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We can’t allow it to happen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What do you mean, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mr Parsnip had no idea what had been going on behind his
back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo held up the documents from the bishop’s office. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“When you’ve read these, you will realise that the bishop
is only interested in his own profit. He would sell his grandmother if someone
made him an offer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The vicar was starting to look bewildered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Just let me look at those papers,” said Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Listen to this, Frederick,” she started and proceeded to
read aloud the details of the contract between the bishop and the investors
finalising the sale of the parish land. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I think he was in a hurry on Sunday morning because he
had made up his mind to sign that contract without further delay after he had
been thwarted in his attempt to get at Edith. The car accident stopped him in
his tracks, but for how long?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“He can’t sign the contract if we’ve got it, can he?”
said the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“He’ll get the company to print another one. That small
detail won’t hinder him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mr Parsnip was stricken.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So we can’t stop him,” he said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I know how we can stop him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cleo chose her words carefully.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We can expose the bishop’s plans to the media. That will
make enough of a scandal to stop him in his tracks. After all, he isn’t the
most powerful member of the Church of England.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The vicar nodded. That was a tiny flicker of hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But he will have to be exposed as a blackmailer, too. He
tried to blackmail your wife, Mr Parsnip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh dear, I don’t think so...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Involving Edith was the last thing Mr Parsnip wanted.
Hadn’t she gone through enough?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Negative publicity is the key to saving St Peter’s, Mr
Parsnip,” said Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Dorothy Price was as shocked as the vicar at the
implications of Cleo’s suggested course of action.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“You’ll have to bite the bullet, Frederick,” she told
him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“We have no time to lose,” said Cleo. “I’m going to call
the police now and tell them of the bishop’s abusive behaviour towards Edith
and Clare posing as Edith. Believe me, Mr Parsnip, we have no choice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“And you will phone the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office
and report on what has been going on. You are now in possession of the contract
the bishop is about to sign, selling St Peter’s to a supermarket chain.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“If you say so, Cleo,” said the vicar, impressed and
overawed by Cleo’s energy. She was a pagan, after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Trust me, Mr Parsnip. The only chance of saving the
Upper Grumpsfield congregation is to take action immediately. It may already be
too late.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Can I phone from here, Cleo? I wouldn’t want Edith ....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sure, Mr Parsnip. Just go ahead. The sooner we set the
ball rolling, the better.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And so the vicar, alarmed and distressed as he was about
the whole business, picked up the phone to make the most important call of his
life. There was no going back now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-40504236656053387402016-01-31T13:31:00.005-08:002017-01-22T00:19:01.022-08:0022 - Found<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dover proved to be a challenge. After leaving her car in the
car park of the third hospital on her list, Clare made her way to the reception
desk. She did not get that far. A nurse turned white with shock when she saw
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>“I’ve just sent you back to the ward and here you are again,
Edith. You mustn’t leave the hospital on your own.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m not Edith. I’m Clare, Edith’s twin sister.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s a relief. You gave me a terrible fright. Edith had
only just gone round the corner to the lifts and you appeared as if from
nowhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Sorry about that. Edith has probably forgotten all about me
so she wouldn’t have mentioned me, would she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. She can only just about remember her own first name. She
was too exhausted for the tests.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d better go and see if my appearance jogs her memory, then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, do that! 3rd floor, room 318.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The receptionist pointed in the direction of the lifts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t you want to come with me?” Clare asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not necessary. You are so like your sister, that is like
having a visiting card, and anyway, visitors are welcome on that ward. It
sometimes helps the patients if they see that they are not forgotten even when
they have forgotten everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare thanked her and made her way to the women’s psychiatric
ward. The people being treated there were mostly victims of burnout syndrome or
some other modern complaint, so they could come and go as they liked so long as
they said where they were going and did not leave the building. Clare assumed
that the receptionist nurse in the foyer was making sure no patient left. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was a pleasant ward, almost like a hotel, with flowers
everywhere and a community corner where you could find company if you felt like
it. Edith was not there so she must have returned to her room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare knocked on 318 before entering. Edith looked up from the
magazine she had been leafing through. She did not remember Clare. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Hello Edith, how are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare had no idea how to deal with the situation. Edith was
agitated by hearing her name from someone she thought was a stranger. She rang
the alarm bell and a nurse came hurrying in. She was shocked to see two
versions of Edith. Edith was visibly distressed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Good gracious! Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since Clare was wearing warm jacket and Edith was sitting on
her bed clad on her night clothes, there was no problem detecting who was the
visitor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Clare. I’ve come to collect my sister and take her home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I see. You look identical. You must have scared the nurse
downstairs out of her wits.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The ward nurse turned to Edith to ask her if she knew the lady
standing in front of her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m not sure. Her face seems familiar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t we all go and stand in front of the wide mirror in
the bathroom?” the nurse suggested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t see how that will help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Wait and see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The nurse put her arm through Edith’s and spirited her into
the bathroom. Beckoning Clare to wait a moment, she stood herself and Edith in
front of the mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You can see me, can’t you, Edith?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And you are next to me, aren’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith nodded again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The nurse beckoned to Clare to join them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Now look at the lady on the other side of me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith looked surprised.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She looks just like me, doesn’t she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Now it was Clare’s turn to speak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Clare. I’m your twin sister. Don’t you remember me at
all?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The nurse was starting to think Edith was playing a game with
them, but she wasn’t. It took several minutes of standing and looking before
Edith finally said she thought she remembered Clare, but she wasn’t sure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Let’s go and have a coffee in the community corner, Edith.
Then I’ll tell you about us. I’ve got a photo of us when we were little. You
might remember that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare did not want to admit it, but Edith’s lack of
recognition had shaken her. How could you forget your twin sister? What nightmare
had caused Edith to become so disorientated?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Later, Clare went to the psychiatrist’s office to introduce
herself. The doctor was so taken aback at the striking likeness that Clare had
to prove her own identity officially, in case Edith was playing some kind of
trick, as amnesia patients sometimes did. After that Clare took Edith to the
hospital café and ordered coffee and Edith’s favourite cake. Anything that
could awaken lost memories was to be tried, the psychiatrist had told Clare. Little
things, details, might help more than some sort of dramatic confrontation,
though that had also been known to work. Most of all, it was important to find
out what was troubling the patient. Clare assured him that she would do what
she could to restore order in poor Edith’s mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare found it hard to start a conversation with someone who
was her closest relative but seemed to be unaware of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I really like chocolate muffins,” enthused Edith.”How did you
know?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I remembered,” said Clare. “Do you remember making them at
home?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Home? What home?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Upper Grumpsfield, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, Upper Grumpsfield. That was the name on the bus ticket in
my jacket pocket.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Is that where I live, Clare?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare realized that getting Edith back into reality was going
to be difficult. Her sister had glossed over the topic of muffins. She seemed
to be wracking her brains for some hint of what had happened to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You live at the vicarage, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do I? I can’t remember...except...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Go on. Just say anything that comes into your mind,” said
Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Priscilla. Who’s Priscilla?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare had been expecting the children’s names, even
Frederick’s, but certainly not the name of the household pet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She’s your cat, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I used to get cross with her for killing birds.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, you did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But she was only following her instincts ... and she hated
Minor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who’s Minor?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why, that was Dorothy’s dog. But he’s dead now. Run over...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith relapsed into silence. Clare thought she was skimming
round anything that had been stressful, but she was at least starting to
remember things. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who is Dorothy, Clare?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She’s an old friend of....the vicar’s. She gives the piano
lessons to Albert”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith had relapsed into a troubled silence. She did not react
to the name of her eldest son. Clare did not pursue the lead. She didn’t want
to upset Edith by telling her she had left her children behind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Piano teacher? That reminds me of something else, but what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s check you out of the hospital.
I’ll tell you more about Dorothy in the car on the way home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes. I’d like that...I think.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Having talked things over with the psychiatrist, she fell in
with the idea of getting Edith to a therapist
who could help her regain her memory and find out what was troubling her. Armed
with the hospital psychiatrist’s report, Clare packed Edith’s things in her
little suitcase and said they could leave. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith did not seem to be distressed. Clare was convinced that
she would get her memory back fairly quickly, but that it was vital to find out
what she was running away from. They would stop off at a motel and finish the
drive home the following morning. That would give Edith more time to recover
from her misadventure and Clare could perhaps jog her memory some more. Once
back home, Edith would go to a therapist and things would gradually improve.
Clare would make sure she was left in peace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Most important, Edith must be shielded from whatever had
caused her to run away until she was ready to confront it, so whatever
investigating Clare did would go in the direction of finding out what had
really happened, and for that she would be glad to call on Cleo and Dorothy for
help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The hospital psychiatrist had been satisfied that everything
would be all right. Clare was competent and Edith trusted her. And they were as
like as two peas in a pod, after all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Back in Upper Grumpsfield two other peas in a pod were making
Beatrice’s life difficult. The two youngest boys, Daniel and Edmond, might only
be six years old, but they had already realized that their identical looks
could be used to their advantage. At school they played little games with their
teachers, giving the same name, or switching names and desks, or both answering
when one name was called. Now they were annoying Beatrice by claiming to be the
other twin, whichever one she spoke to. Beatrice stopped calling them by their
names and started referring to them as ‘you two’. She wondered if there was any
way of distinguishing them. She hadn’t found one yet! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare did not force Edith to talk during the journey. They
drove in silence most of the time before taking a break.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We’ll leave the motorway and look for somewhere nice to have
dinner and stay the night, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The guesthouse Clare chose was on the brow of a hill and had a
magnificent view of the countryside. Clare booked a room. Edith was tired so
she lay on her bed and rested. Clare rang Beatrice to tell her where they were.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We’ll be in Upper Grumpsfield by lunchtime tomorrow,” she
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t you come this evening? The bishop’s arriving
tomorrow afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t help that. Edith is tired and so am I, so we’ve
decided to break our journey.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That is most inconvenient. Edith is needed here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tell Frederick we’ll be back tomorrow and I hope you will
treat Edith with more consideration than you have in the past,” said Clare.
Beatrice always made her blood boil.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare slammed the phone down. Edith opened her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who were you talking to, Clare?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Beatrice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who’s that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
How much had Edith overheard? Clare decided to play safe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She’s the vicar’s sister.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith accepted that explanation at face value. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you remember St Peter’s church, Edith?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That seemingly innocuous question caused Edith’s brow to
furrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Should I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, never mind that for now. Put your shoes on and we’ll go
for a walk before dinner.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Whatever had happened to Edith seemed to be so deep-seated
that she was quite unable to remember it. Their dinner was tasty. The sisters
sat in their hotel room for a while and watched TV. But Edith was very tired.
She had been sleeping for 2 hours when Clare finally got into bed and tried to
sleep. She had sent a text to Karl to let him know where she was. Karl had
replied saying he missed her, and Clare spent much of the night wondering
whether they really did have a future together. Right now she was tied up with
Edith’s dilemma.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
During the rest of the drive home, Clare told Edith a lot
about herself and Karl and stimulated Edith’s long-term memory with stories
about hers and Edith’s childhood. By the time they reached the vicarage just
before midday on Saturday, Edith was feeling much better. Her main concern now
was what would happen when she was confronted with her husband. Clare had told
her his name was Frederick. Would she know him? Was he the last person she
wanted to see? Had she been running away from him? So many unanswered
questions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When the vicarage came into view, Edith remarked that the
building looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. They were greeted at the
front door by Beatrice, who had seen the car approaching. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, come in,” she said in an irritated tone. “Lunch is
almost ready.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith looked at her without any sign of recognition.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“This is Beatrice, the person I phoned last night,” Clare
explained. Edith walked past her into the hall. Then the study door opened and
Frederick Parsnip emerged. Edith stopped in her tracks and her eyes welled up
with tears. Clare quickly took charge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t say anything yet,” she told him. “Edith is tired. We’ll
go upstairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What about lunch?” Beatrice wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Later.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, don’t wait too long. It’ll all be cold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It doesn’t matter.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare led Edith into her bedroom. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Was that man downstairs the vicar, Clare?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Is this his bedroom?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t you remember anything about this room?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith shook her head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare decided she would have to explain the situation to a
certain extent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You used to sleep in that bed, Edith,” Clare said, pointing
to the one next to the door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith looked horrified.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But that must mean...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It means that the vicar is your husband.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t worry. He usually sleeps in that bed in the other
corner, but he can sleep in the guest room and I’ll sleep in his bed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare was determined to protect her sister from whatever had
been troubling her. At the moment, it looked as though Frederick might be
connected in some way with the amnesia, though the distance between the beds
spoke a language that did not include intimacy or closeless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Children’s voices shouting mummy and a stampede up the stairs
announced the arrival of the five boys on the scene. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith looked at them and then at Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“These are your children, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The boys had no difficulty in deciding which twin was their
mother. Edith greeted the boys solemnly and asked them their names. Clare did
not know how Beatrice had prepared the boys for this meeting, but they seemed
to be taking it in their stride.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Come and see our rooms!” they invited. Even a mummy who
didn’t know who them was better than bossy-britches-Beatrice. She couldn’t
cook, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After a while, Edith found her way back to her bedroom.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare, what happened to me? Why can’t I remember things?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’ll take time, but you’ve remembered the boys now, haven’t
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
To Clare’s relief Edith said she had. They were lovely. How
could she have thought of leaving them behind?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You probably didn’t know you were going anywhere, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare said that to comfort Edith. In fact, Edith had packed things
in a suitcase, so some part of her brain had been intent on going somewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But no one leaves her children,” said Edith, upset that she
had been negligent. “Surely a mother’s instinct would prevent that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not if something even stronger or more horrific took her away,
Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith’s face clouded over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There was a phone call. I remember a phone call now, but I don’t
remember who it was from.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Though Edith was remembering snippets, her memory was still
blotting out what was evidently at the heart of the problem. Clare snapped up
that piece of information, however. Perhaps the vicar knew who had phoned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t think I want to talk to my...the vicar yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The late lunch was accompanied by a tirade from Beatrice, who
told Edith and Clare not to expect their food to taste good since it was now
all cold. Clare told her to shut up and went briefly to the study to talk to
the vicar, hoping that Beatrice would not lay into Edith while she was gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith can’t remember anything about you, Frederick. Can you
remember what happened the last time you were together? Did you say something
terrible to her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Me? No, of course not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did she get a phone call?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not while I was here, but I went to the church to meditate. Anyway,
who would phone Edith and say something terrible?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was useless talking to Frederick. Either he had failed to
comprehend the seriousness of the situation or he was telling lies. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, just keep out of the way today, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t do that. The bishop’s arriving any minute.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll handle the bishop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He won’t know who you are.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Right in one, Frederick. He’ll think I’m Edith and I’ll tell
him I have a headache and go to my room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, if you think that will work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can you think of a better solution?”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-16286673265259585052016-01-31T11:07:00.004-08:002017-01-21T10:42:36.491-08:0021 -Needles in Haystacks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was anxious to find Edith, but calling the police was the
first step to take. She left that to Dorothy Price, who explained that she was
a close friend of the family and gave them a description of Edith whilst
skirting round the inevitable question as to why the husband had not seen fit
to report his wife’s disappearance yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He might not have noticed,” she improvised. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>The police officer did not seem to think that remarkable.
After all, women were more observant and if the lady had not turned up as
expected it was on the cards that her women friends would be more likely to get
anxious.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did you ask him where she might be?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mr Parsnip thought she had gone shopping early this morning,”
said Dorothy quite truthfully. “But I think that’s unlikely with five sons to make
breakfast for and all the usual duties of a vicar’s wife and mother. The vicar
is a bit vague at times.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
They told her they would look into the matter, noted her phone
number and rang off. Dorothy went home and put her feet up. There was nothing
else she could do except wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had several ideas for taking up the search, but had preferred
not to not to confide in Dorothy too soon. She realized that the police might
wait too long before they did anything constructive. She would try to discover
when and how Edith had left Upper Grumpsfield. She must have had taken a cab or
hitch-hiked. Cleo could only hope Edith had not hitched a ride with a
disreputable person who had left her to rot in a ditch somewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo drew a blank at the one-man taxi service in Upper
Grumpsfield. He had not transported anyone at all the previous night so his cab
would have been available. If Edith had hitched a lift with a stranger,
anything could have happened. That did not bear thinking about. Cleo set off at
a brisk pace for the organist’s little flat above the newsagent’s. She needed
to know if the little guy knew anything that might help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Davies was standing disgruntled between the doorway of his shop
and the flight of stairs leading to Mr Morgan’s flat above. He was cheered by
the approach of Cleo Hartley, though this might have been in anticipation of
selling something. Mr Davies did not care much for humanity except as paying
customers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Nice to see you, Miss Hartley. Come to pay for your papers?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo thought Mr Davies was awful. When she had first came to
live in Upper Grumpsfield he had treated her with open antipathy and she would
certainly have gone elsewhere for her papers had there been a choice locally.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m here to see Mr Morgan,” she told him as she tried to
squeeze past to the front door. “Saturday is the day I pay for my papers. Move
to one side, please!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Davies was generally unpopular, she had learnt as time went
on. Dishonest, as well. You had to watch carefully while he added up your
deliveries. He was not averse to slipping in the charge for a magazine or two
that you had neither ordered nor received. Cleo had long since taken to working
out what she was going to have to pay before going there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It isn’t nearly the day for paying, Mr Davies, . When that
day comes I’ll bring my list and we can double check that I’m paying the right
amount, can’t we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That was not to Mr Davies’s liking, but he had no basis for
protest and anyway, there were enough other customers who didn’t notice his
little frauds. He thought Cleo Hartley might cotton on to some of his other
ruses given enough rope, and that would be most inconvenient. It was therefore
prudent to go along with her suggestion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t talk to me about Mr Morgan,” he said. “He’s been
nothing but trouble, coming and going as he pleases and never buying anything
from me. He leaves his lights on till well after midnight and even parks his
rubbishy old car in my drive when he has the chance. Good riddance to bad
rubbish, I say. I can’t wait for him to take himself off elsewhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sure he pays for his electricity, Mr Davies, and it’s up
to him where he does his shopping.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Just then a customer turned up, so Mr Davies merely shrugged
his shoulders and followed him inside, leaving the stairway free. The newsagent
never left anyone alone in his emporium. They might help themselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo rang Mr Morgan’s doorbell and the scurrying on the stairs
warned her of his imminent appearance. Why hadn’t he let her in? Did he have
something to hide?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, it’s you, Miss Hartley. I’m on the way to my new flat
with a load of books and music. I can’t waste time standing here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He seemed a lot more flustered than someone moving house
would. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Is anything wrong, Mr Morgan?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo wondered how someone would react who was sheltering a
missing person. Not letting her into his flat might be an indication that there
was someone there who shouldn’t be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s Edith,” he blurted out. “She has disappeared.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The full significance of the situation had just hit him since
he had blurted out a secret to the first available listener. No way could he
have been that upset if he knew Edith Parsnip’s whereabouts, given that he probably
still had romantic feelings for her. Cleo decided he was genuinely distraught.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She probably went shopping, Mr Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s not what Dorothy told me, Cleo. And when I phoned the vicar,
first he told me she had gone shopping and then he changed his mind and said
she’d gone to Austria. Just like that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“When did you talk to Mr Parsnip? Was it after Dorothy’s visit
to the church?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘How do you know about that, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I have my methods, Mr Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The vicar phoned me and asked me would I please take the
sing-along with the pensioner group during Mrs Parsnip’s absence.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo told Mr Morgan that he was putting two and two together and
making five, advising him not to interpret Mrs Parsnip’s outing as a
disappearance. There was, she reflected, nothing to be gained from encouraging
someone as melodramatic as Mr Morgan to think the worst.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But she was puzzled. Hadn’t the vicar wanted to keep his
wife’s disappearance a secret? Why talk about it with Mr Morgan, of all people,
and even ask him to take over one of Edith’s chores? Was Mr Parsnip shrewder
than she thought? Did he suspect Mr Morgan of harbouring her? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was now sure that Mr Morgan knew nothing about Edith’s
whereabouts. After assuring him that everything would be just fine and telling
him he should not discuss the situation with anyone else since Edith might be
angry with him, she left him to ponder on his chances of a relationship with
Edith based on her not being angry with him and made her way to Upper
Grumpsfield station. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
No night buses left Upper Grumpsfield, so if Edith had gone
anywhere it would have to be by train, unless she had hitched a lift in desperation.
Surely Edith would have had more sense. It was on the cards that she had hung
around at the station and caught the first available train, unless she was
wandering around Upper Grumpsfield and district and would eventually be picked
up by the police, dead or alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There was a woman sitting in the waiting room half the night,”
the station master told her, “but I wasn’t on night duty so I didn’t see her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That was a good start.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So how do you know about her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“From my colleague, Miss. He wrote it down, as a matter of fact.
We always record anything unusual in our log book and also note the time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“A good idea. Did he ask her what she wanted?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He wouldn’t do that, Miss. We station masters don’t ask
questions unless someone is making trouble. She was just sitting there, harmless
like. Night duty is very boring, so we usually have a little nap between
trains. The last passenger train to stop here is a short one at about midnight
going through to Middlethumpton and she was here after that. She might have
left on the milk train at four thirty, but my colleague didn’t see her board
the train because he was too busy checking the loading. Or she might have just gone
away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That was a very long speech that had answered nearly all her
questions. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So she was gone after the milk train left?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, my colleague didn’t see her after that and the
colleague this morning didn’t write anything in the log book. Would you like to
see for yourself, Miss?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The report repeated what he had just told her. No description
of the woman had been noted. Cleo was about to take her leave when the station
master who had written it appeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Here he is, Miss. Just coming on night duty. You can ask him
anything else you want to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you have 3 shifts?” Cleo asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s right. Night from 10 till 6. Day from 6 till 2 and
afternoon from 2 till 10.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So you are on the afternoon shift, are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It sounds like a reasonable arrangement.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We swop times no and again and sometimes a colleague from
Middlethumpton takes over so that we can get organized Miss. Isn’t it like that
where you come from?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I expect it is, Station Master, but I live here now, so I’m
interested in what happens here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The afternoon station master going off duty explained to his night
colleague that Cleo was looking for the woman who had been waiting at the
station the previous night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did you get a good look at her?” Cleo asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, not really, just in passing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can you describe her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Thin. A bit tired looking. Anxious.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What colour was her hair?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Darkish.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What was she wearing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“A jacket, I think.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What colour was it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Darkish. Navy blue or black.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Did she buy a ticket?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t get on a train. You can
buy tickets on trains these days.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did she have any luggage?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Funny you should ask that. A very small suitcase on wheels.
Can’t have been much in it. Funny for a woman. They usually have cases they
can’t lift by themselves. I’m always having to heave them onto trains with my
bad back. I’ve got neuralgia or a slipped disk.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo didn’t have time to listen to a bad back saga especially
as it sounded as if the guy had never been to a doctor and found out what it
was. She was now concerned about the luggage Edith had taken with her, since
the description of the woman fitted rather well. Edith had obviously intended
to stay away rather than do away with herself. Cleo would have to ask Mr
Parsnip if they had a small suitcase on wheels and if so, was it missing? There
was no time to waste since disappearances can mean anything. Cleo would have to
point out to Mr Parsnip that the bishop would find out about Edith’s
disappearance sooner or later. What the bishop thought was of no consequence
given the possibility that Edith might be in serious danger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The psychologist at the hospital in Dover hoped that a good
night’s sleep would restore Edith’s memory. If it didn’t, she would undergo
medical tests to determine what had caused the memory loss and judge if it had
a physical cause and was possibly permanent. Waiting till next day would also give
the Dover police time to follow up any reports of a missing woman, late
thirties and tired-looking, which might match the patient.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith woke to the sound of breakfast being served to the young
woman who was sharing her ward. She did not recognize her surroundings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where am I? Am I in a hospital?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here,” the nurse told Edith as she
helped the young woman into a comfortable position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Safe from what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, you were wandering around at the station, so they
brought you here. You may have run away from something or somebody.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What station?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dover? Why was I at Dover station?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Were you on your way somewhere? To visit a friend or a
relative?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t know. No, wait. I got on a train somewhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you remember your name as well Mrs?” said the girl in the
bed opposite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith. I’m Edith. I remember that now, but I don’t know why
I’m in Dover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’ve done very well to remember your first name, Edith.
I’ll get you your breakfast.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The nurse moved swiftly down the corridor to ring the
psychologist and tell him about the progress she had made (disregarding the
fact that the other patient had actually asked the vital question). It was
really remarkable how people remembered things if they weren’t under pressure.
She had been a psychiatric nurse for many years and seen some extraordinary
cases. Edith’s was typical. She was probably trying to escape from something.
The nurse tipped on some kind of family drama. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had to be at the library in Middlethumpton all day, so
she would not be able to do anything constructive about finding Edith. All she
had time for before catching the bus was to make a quick phone-call to Dorothy
to tell her what she had found out at the station. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had discussed the situation with Robert until well after
midnight. She was anxious to know what made Edith the way she was. Robert had
wanted to know what way that would be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Morose, thoughtful, sad, Robert,” Cleo had said. “As if she
has no fun at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t suppose that living with that vicar is much fun,
Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Meaning she might have left him,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You can’t rule that out, can you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert had known the Parsnips for ages and saw nothing
exceptional in their lives. He liked Edith and wondered why she stuck with Mr
Parsnip. Cleo thought that was amazingly astute for Robert. He told her that he
could never fall for Edith because she was way out of his range of people he
could get on with. On her part, Cleo wondered what it must be like to be
married to the vicar. She thought Edith might have had a hard time supporting
him selflessly for years on end. Robert thought it embarrassed Edith when the vicar
got too het up about what he was preaching. He didn’t think she was actually
unhappy, but certainly in a state of resignation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s good to talk like this,” said Cleo. “You are a great
help, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m not Dorothy, but I try.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I would not want to live with Dorothy, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was sure that any passion the vicar felt was reserved for
his religious convictions. If Edith was emotionally starved, that would explain
why she had a soft spot for Mr Morgan, who was anything but the answer to a
maiden’s prayer, but at least showed interest in her. Robert laughed, but then
another thought occurred to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Some days Mrs Parsnip seems totally exhausted when she comes
into the shop, Cleo. She often has no idea what she wants, as if she’s in a
different world. Quite the opposite to her sister. Clare has temperament. She’s
efficient and always knows exactly what she wants.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo said that Clare had proved a great help at the library.
She was friendly and organized and had good ideas for encouraging young
readers. It was inconvenient that she had chosen this or indeed any other week
to go off to Austria, and the situation was even more drastic now Edith had disappeared.
Cleo had the impression that Clare always did she wanted while Edith did what
everyone else wanted. Thankless and thoughtless Mr Parsnip was more concerned
about his imagined pagan African souls than his family. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So we agree that Edith might have walked out, don’t we?” Robert
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I wouldn’t be surprised. A year of Frederick Parsnip must
have seemed like a century.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert had been quite fond of the vicar ever since he had so
gamely joined in with his wedding announcement, but now he was starting to feel
uneasy. Appearances can be deceptive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course, it’s a police job to look for missing persons, Cleo.
You could call them and find out how much progress they’ve made.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Good idea. I’ll call from the library when things are quiet,
but I should ring Dorothy first since she told the police. She may have heard
something by then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Remember that no news is good news, Cleo. If she’d been lying
in a ditch somewhere they’d probably have found her by now and the news would
have spread like wildfire.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Perish the thought,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Frederick Parsnip was finding out the hard way what it’s like
to deal with five boisterous kids on a school morning since his method of
child-rearing was to stay well out of the way. He’d only just shooed them out
of the back door when the phone rang. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Parsnip speaking. Oh, it’s you, Beatrice.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who were you expecting, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I thought...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t think, Frederick! Just give me Edith!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Frederick’s sister was two years older than him and had always
bossed him around, mainly because he had been as indecisive and ponderous as a
child as he was now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith’s out at the moment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Out? Where has she gone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Before Mr Parsnip could stop himself he had told his sister
that he didn’t know for sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You don’t know? Has she walked out on you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t know, Beatrice, honestly I don’t. She might have gone
to Austria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Might have? This is a very odd state of affairs and I’m
coming over directly. Edith would never leave her children even if she is fed
up with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice had always been blunt. She had a sharp tongue which
tended to stop people from taking her on in an argument. She invariably won
whether she was in the right or not. She simply shouted people down if she felt
they were encroaching on her authority. Her forceful character had got her as
far as becoming the head mistress of a large senior school, and later she
progressed even beyond that and become a schools inspector, which meant she that
had plenty of free time and could lay the law down at pretty well any time she chose.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll be over as soon as I can get there, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip would dearly have liked to tell his sister not to
come, but in the circumstances he had no choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“All right, Beatrice. I could use your help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Those were words Mr Parsnip never thought would cross his
lips. Beatrice’s idea of help was a total takeover but, he reflected, her being
there would make things easier all round in this case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where’s Clare? Can’t she help?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Gone to Austria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Typical.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She doesn’t know Edith has disappeared I mean gone to Austria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why would she go to Austria, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“To be with Clare, I suppose.” The vicar was starting to
believe that really was the case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Now he has said ‘disappeared’, he felt even worse. He didn’t
even know when she had left, let alone why.
Beatrice was too busy mentally reorganizing her schedule to react to
what the vicar had said. She was already making contingency plans.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll delegate this week’s school visits and be over by
lunchtime,” she said,” but I think it would be a good idea to find Edith before
I get there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With those words, Beatrice slammed the phone down and Mr
Parsnip was left holding the handset and wondering what had hit him. Beatrice
had read between the lines and chosen that way of putting him firmly in his
place. He was not sure who he feared more: his sister or the bishop. He felt
about eight years old, a stammering little lad in short, grey flannel trousers
being tagged along by his big sister to wherever she was going to get him from
under the grownups’ feet. Fortunately for him, Beatrice had later refused to
take him anywhere because it made her feel silly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A bit later, when Dorothy phoned the vicarage to ask if there
was any news, the vicar was still in the distraught state in which the
conversation with Beatrice had left him, partly because he knew she would be as
insufferable as she always had been and partly because he still didn’t have the
faintest idea why Edith had left and where she could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy wanted to know if the police had called.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Police?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“They had to be told, Frederick. You can’t just wait until Edith
turns up because she might not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip thought Dorothy had jumped the guns and said so. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Rubbish, Frederick, and you know it! What have you told
Beatrice?’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just that Edith might have gone to Austria with Clare and
that I wasn’t coping too well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He did not mention that Beatrice had probably not believed a
word he’d said and what was worse, he had let it slip that he thought Edith had
disappeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Wasn’t that a little foolish, Frederick? She’ll guess the
truth immediately. You know how astute she is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Frederick had to admit that he was an open book for her. He
had never been good at telling untruths and now he had entered the realm of
wild speculation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What would you have done, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Goodness only knows. I wouldn’t have got myself into such a
mess in the first place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What mess?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Telling lies, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’re quite right. But we can’t turn the clock back, can we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy did not relish a confrontation with Beatrice, who
would ask her all sorts of questions she would either not want to answer, or
couldn’t. Not that Beatrice took much notice of what anyone else said to her.
She was better at jumping to conclusions than anyone else Dorothy knew. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll be over in about an hour, Frederick. Do you want me to
get you any shopping?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s all right, Dorothy. Mrs Cagney will be glad to help
out with the shopping.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll come anyway, Frederick,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If you insist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I do!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mrs Cagney was one of those women you can find anywhere.
Middle-aged, with grown-up children and a lay-about husband who never did
anything unless it was in his own interest. She had resigned herself to earning
a pittance cleaning for people with big houses and big incomes and keeping up
with her own chores when most people had chomped through their TV dinners and
put their feet up for the rest of the day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Cagney never noticed what she was doing because when she
left the house in the morning he was still in bed asleep and by the time she
returned he had swallowed copious amounts of alcohol fetched from the
off-license and usually paid for with the housekeeping, and was too drunk to
notice anything. Mrs Cagney didn’t actively encourage his drinking by replenishing
his supply of alcohol – walking to and from the off-license was the only
exercise he got - but she did rather hope it would shorten his lifespan. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mrs Cagney went on the bus to Middlethumpton Roman Catholic
church every Sunday to appease her feeling that she should be religious but had
no reason the be thankful and every reason to see herself as one of the
forgotten. She had found a soul mate in Edith Parsnip, who seemed to have her
own insurmountable marital problems. Mrs Parsnip was nice though she was, in
Mrs Cagney’s view, from a much higher class. Edith Parsnip did not act like
royalty, but treated her like a lady, something Mrs Cagney appreciated, not
having enjoyed much courtesy or anything else in her life. She had gone from
chubby school-girl to canteen assistant, from bride to drudge. She was rather
short, rather fat and rather plain, but her face lit up and her reddened eyes
sparkled when Edith invited her to drink coffee and eat some homemade cake.
Helping Edith was one of her high spots in an otherwise hard, drab life.. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As usual, soon after nine o’clock Mrs Cagney made her way
eagerly around the back of the vicarage to the kitchen door. She looked forward
to hearing the latest about the boys and how Edith was coping with life. She
was shocked to find Mr Parsnip making himself a pot of tea and the kitchen in an
unholy mess.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“My wife isn’t here,” he said. “Can you do some shopping?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where is she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m asking myself that, Mrs Cagney.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mrs Cagney was alarmed by Edith’s absence and the state of the
kitchen, but she did not ask any more questions. The vicar was a person of
respect in her eyes, though she knew that he was anything but perfect. Mrs
Cagney remembered the yearning in Edith’s voice when she spoke of getting away
from it all, but she made no comment. She helped Mr Parsnip to make a list of
necessities, some of which she could get delivered by Mr Bontemps, the grocer’s
assistant who was willing to deliver heavy shopping to your door at a price. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mrs Cagney’s answer to lack of companionship was to regale
everyone with tales of this and that, so the impromptu visit to the butcher’s
was a welcome opportunity to hint – in confidence - that something might be
amiss at the vicarage, as she ordered a dozen sausages and ten pork chops. Robert,
who was not averse to a little gossip, either, as long as it did not get too intimate,
responded that it would not at all fitting for a vicar’s wife to have left
under mysterious circumstances, and immediately regretted it. He tried to cover
up his blunder by joking that ladies often had secrets. Why, even Cleo…. then
stopped in his tracks. What if Edith had been subjected to the kind of cruelty
Cleo had experienced? He had heard terrible stories about men of the cloth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Bontemps showed little surprise at the sizeable order Mrs
Cagney placed with him a few minutes later. He had avoided engaging her in
chit-chat ever since the day he had repeated a chunk of her gossip to all and
sundry only to discover that she had made it all up. Mr Bontemps didn’t mind
embarrassing certain of his customers, but had been mortified when Laura Finch,
one of his favourites and victim of the rumour, had marched into the shop and
told him in a loud voice to mind his own bloody business and then marched out
again without buying anything. The ensuing estrangement had taken several
months of slimy diplomacy and real French Camembert to overcome. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mrs Cagney didn’t appear to register what Robert had said, but
she had committed it all to memory. By the time she had been to all the other
village shops, a good hour had passed during which she had spread the news that
something was amiss at the vicarage and might involve Mrs Parsnip’s sudden
disappearance. When she finally got back to the vicarage, Dorothy was already
installed in the kitchen washing a huge pile of dishes, some left from the
previous day. What had got into Edith to make her drop everything and leave? Mrs
Cagney was tempted to ask Dorothy precisely that question, but thought better
of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’d better see what the rest of the house looks like,” she
told Mrs Cagney, who said she was sorry she had taken so long with the shopping.
She would do the beds and tidy up. They were tasks which she reckoned could be
spun out and perhaps provide her with more inside information, for example if
someone phoned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Or maybe Mrs Parsnip would turn up again. Dorothy made it
quite clear that she was not going to discuss the situation with Mrs Cagney and
Mrs Cagney should not discuss it with anyone else. Little did Dorothy know that
the whole village had already been informed. She busied herself putting the
shopping away until Mrs Cagney had gone upstairs, then made coffee for herself
and the vicar. No way was she going to invite gossipy Mrs Cagney to share the belated
elevenses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was sitting at his desk in the office. He looked
worried. The seriousness of the situation had finally hit him. His pencil box
was empty. All the pencils had points like needles at both ends. That was a
sure sign of disorientation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, Frederick, have you worked out what could have happened
to Edith?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. It’s terrible. The bishop phoned. He’s coming to the
Voluntary Ladies’ annual dinner on Saturday. He confirmed that he will attend
the Sunday service, so he’ll want to stay the night and stay for Sunday lunch.
What am I going to do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So that was what was on his mind. Dorothy thought he was being
extremely selfish thinking of himself when anything could have happened to
Edith. She felt bound to point that out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Have you considered the possibility that Edith might be dead,
Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip spun round on his swivelling chair, spilling his
coffee in the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith is dead?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I said she might be dead, Frederick. You weren’t paying
attention.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, Dorothy, even if she
does not want to live with us anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I should jolly well hope not, Frederick. You’ll have to think
over what might have made her leave.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ve thought and thought, Dorothy, and I’ve no explanation.
I’m very angry that she could be so thoughtless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was about to give him a piece of her mind for that
last comment when the vicar’s phone rang. It was Middlethumpton police. They
had located a woman who fitted the description of Edith Parsnip and would he go
to the police station and identify the photograph they had received from Dover.
The police officer explained the procedure and Mr Parsnip said he would send
someone right away as he had to be at home all day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Could you go for me, Dorothy? I’ll have to be here when
Beatrice arrives or there’ll be hell to pay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy agreed. No point in arguing. though she could just as
easily have been at the vicarage for Beatrice’s arrival. Mr Parsnip was looking
after his own interests again. She was disgusted with him. Without further ado,
she sped down the road, caught the next bus into Middlethumpton and marched into
Police Headquarters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
To Dorothy’s relief, the woman on the photo turned out to be
Edith. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where is she? Did you say Dover on the phone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We can’t tell you any details,” the officer explained. “We
don’t know if the lady wants it to be known where she is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That seemed reasonable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s just that once she’s been identified we can close the
missing persons case,” he explained.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, it’s definitely Edith Parsnip, unless it’s her twin
sister, of course, but she’s in Austria,” Dorothy told him. “Could I have a
copy of the photograph to show Edith’s husband? He didn’t have time to come
here himself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The police officer thought it strange that the husband of a
missing person would send someone else to identify her, but you couldn’t tell
by appearances, and vicars were only human, after all. The woman on the photo
looked a bit confused. But it wasn’t his problem, either. They would deal with
her in Dover.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just one thing, Miss Price,” the officer added. “This person
on the photo is apparently suffering from amnesia. Someone will have to go to
Dover and fetch her home. That’s always assuming she’s willing to come back, of
course. People don’t get amnesia for the fun of it. Something serious must have
happened to make her lose her memory. We’ll pop round and have a little talk
with that vicar of yours, just in case.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
In case what? Dorothy had plenty of food for thought as she
made her way from HQ to the library. She would show Cleo Edith’s photo straightaway
and Cleo could call the vicarage with the good news – if indeed Frederick
Parsnip thought the news was good. At least Edith was alive and that really was
the most important thing as far as her five boys were concerned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
By noon the vicarage was tidy and Mrs Cagney, who had worked
even more slowly than usual, had left even later than usual via the back door.
She was sorry her elongated stay had not produced any more information on the
domestic situation at the vicarage, but she had another house to clean and
could not possibly hang on any longer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
Mr Parsnip was extremely nervous about his
sister’s arrival. Beatrice would ask him awkward questions and he would not
know any answers. The Sunday sermon was unwritten and the bishop’s visit was
hanging over him like the sword of Damocles. In desperation, Mr Parsnip
sharpened a whole box of new pencils, allowing the chippings to fall on the
floor. He was so absorbed in this activity that he didn’t even hear Beatrice
enter the study.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So that’s where you are,” she bawled, and the vicar nearly
jumped out of his skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How did you get in, Beatrice?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Through the back door, Frederick. Someone very kindly left it
ajar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That would be Mrs Cagney. She’s the household help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Very nice, I’m sure. So why are you making all that mess on
the floor, Frederick? Have you found Edith?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
You could not accuse Beatrice of prevarication.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Answer me, Fredrick,” she repeated, raising her voice to a
shut. “Have you found her or not?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As if on cue, the phone rang and Mr Parsnip snatched it and
pressed it to his ear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“This is Cleo Hartley again. Dorothy was able to identify the
missing woman on a police photo as Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The police will probably be around soon to tell you officially.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The police will decide what is necessary, Vicar. Thank you for
what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Hmmm… Thank goodness they’ve found her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you want to know where they found her, Mr Parsnip?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“In Dover.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dover? Ah, yes...... Dover.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar did some very quick thinking aloud entirely for Beatrice’s
benefit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I remember now. Thank you, Cleo. Must get on. Goodbye.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She’s in Dover, Beatrice. As I said, she’s on the way to
Austria. Satisfied?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice was not satisfied. She did not believe that Edith
would have gone on a trip without notice and without making sure that the five
boys were being cared for. Frederick did not give her the impression that he
had everything under control, either. On the contrary, he had been a nervous
wreck on the phone earlier that day and he was still in a bad state. What is
more, the phone call two minutes ago had been more evidence of her brother
being out of touch with reality. She decided to play along, however. She
intended to get at the truth and she was sure that Frederick either couldn’t,
or wouldn’t tell her everything of his own free will.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you going to fetch her home, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course not, Beatrice. She’s getting a ferry to Calais
later today.” Mr Parsnip was surprised how easily the lies came to him. “It was
all planned ages ago.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Funny that Edith didn’t tell anyone and even funnier still
that it took her two days to get to Dover, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She called on an old school chum on the way there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was starting to believe what he was inventing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice decided not to pursue her current train of thought.
She would have to talk to Dorothy and the Hartley woman. They would be sure to
know more. As soon as Frederick had gone back to his study to make a start on
his sermon, or so he said, Beatrice phoned Cleo and then checked her story with
Dorothy’s. Their accounts of what they knew about Edith so far were identical
and did not coincide with Mr Parsnip’s version. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was genuinely relieved to know that Edith was safe.
He would have to talk to the police, but he didn’t want them coming to the vicarage
and certainly didn’t want Beatrice listening in. He would find an excuse to go
out – a visit to a parishioner would serve the purpose. It wouldn’t even have to
be an untruth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He would cycle to Dorothy’s cottage immediately and phone
Middlethumpton from there to tell them not to bother calling in at the vicarage.
Leaving Beatrice to look after things, he hooked his bicycle clips round the
bottoms of his trouser legs, found his bicycle and set off at a fair pace down
the drive. He felt better already.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But as luck would have it, Mr Parsnip’s departure on his
rickety old bike coincided with the police car’s arrival. The vicar hurtled out
of the drive straight into it. He later said his guardian angel had saved his
life. The police did not find the incident amusing. The vicar’s front wheel had
made a deep dent in the side of their patrol car. Luckily, the perpetrator of
the crash got away with a few cuts and bruises, having been thrown into a
convenient hedge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You all right, Sir?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip thought about it for a minute then decided he was.
He straightened his dog collar, brushed the dust and leaves off his jacket, and
scrambled to his feet. The old bicycle was just a heap of scrap metal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear, I’ll have to walk,” he told the officer who, to do
him credit, was looking quite concerned. “Don’t bother going to the house.
There’s no one in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was getting more practice at being mendacious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You sure, Sir? We were going to give you the good news about
your wife being found.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I already know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I expect you do if Miss Price got in touch, but it’s normal
procedure to inform next of kin personally.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, you’ve done that now, haven’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The officer thought the vicar was acting strangely. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you sure you’re all right, Sir?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Positive. You must have better things to do than hang around
here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The officer dropped his caring voice and assumed the officious
one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
”I’ll have to report this accident and the damage to the
police car, Sir, and your insurance will have to pay for the repairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh that. Well I could come to the police station and arrange
something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not a bad idea, Sir. In fact, if you’ve got an hour to spare,
we’ll drive you there now and take you to where you want to go to when we’ve
finished the report.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip rightly perceived that the police officer’s
suggestion was in fact an order. And so it came about that Beatrice, who had noticed
the police car parked in front of the drive while she was airing the upstairs
rooms, ran out intending to ask the police what they thought they were doing
parking there. She was just in time to see Frederick Parsnip being bundled onto
the rear seat and driven off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Despite having been reassured about Edith’s safety by Cleo’s
phone call, Beatrice’s first thought was that something fishy was going on. Her
second, third and fourth thoughts all went in the same direction. Perhaps the
woman on the photo was Clare. What if Frederick had buried Edith in the vicarage
grounds? Up to now, she had never associated her brother with violence, but in
the face of Edith’s untimely disappearance she was forced to reconsider. She
would have to make a thorough examination of the garden to see whether any bits
looked freshly dug. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Luckily, a close inspection produced no clues. Beatrice was a
bit put out, as if she would have preferred to discover Edith’s corpse. What if
Edith really was in Dover? What if Frederick was telling the truth, after all? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The phone rang. It was Mr Morgan. It occurred to Beatrice that
she could call her brother’s bluff, if it was one, by getting Mr Morgan to
offer to collect Edith in Dover and bring her home. Ridiculous, going off to
Austria without rhyme or reason. And if she wasn’t going there, why was she in Dover,
and if she wasn’t in Dover, did Mr Morgan know something she should be informed
about.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan was disconcerted by Beatrice’s friendliness. It
didn’t take her long to persuade him to drive to Dover. He would check with the
vicar that it was all right and he would drive next day so that he could be
back for the Sunday service. After all, he didn’t want to let the bishop down.
The bishop had been a fan of his since the eisteddfod. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice went into the kitchen to do something about food for
the boys, who would be home from school very soon. Two minutes later the phone
rang yet again. It was Clare calling from Austria to say that she had arrived in
Vienna safely. Clare was understandably astonished that Beatrice was at the vicarage.
She wanted to speak to Edith. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So the woman on the photo can’t have been Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We’d all like to speak to Edith, but she isn’t here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What do you mean, Beatrice? Edith is always home at this
hour.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not today she isn’t. Nor yesterday.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where is she? Stop beating about the bush!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The police say she is in Dover. Dorothy Price identified her
from a photo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dover?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“In hospital. She is apparently suffering from amnesia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was a long silence on the Austrian end of the phone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice spoke first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I thought it might be you, Clare, and that Edith had been
murdered.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d better come home.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think you should.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll talk to Karl. I can definitely be in Dover by Friday
morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mr Morgan said he would drive down to collect her,” said
Beatrice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mr Morgan is a twit, Beatrice. Knowing Mr Morgan’s car, I
should think I’ll be there before him even if he sets off now. Tell him to stay
at home. He’d only add to the general confusion.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Actually, Clare was
thinking that infatuated as he was with her or Edith he would be more of an
embarrassment than anything else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He can’t leave till tomorrow morning at the earliest, anyway,
Clare.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah yes, his choir rehearsal. He wouldn’t miss that, even for
Edith. That’s settled then. Tell him to stay in Upper Grumpsfield and I’ll
collect Edith. Which hospital, Beatrice?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice was baffled by Clare’s comment. Even for Edith....? Was
Edith.....? Surely not. Not with that ridiculous little organist. He was in
Upper Grumpsfield, so he had had nothing to do with Edith leaving home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What?” Beatrice had stopped listening while she conjectured. “Oh,
I don’t know. Call me later about that. They’ll apparently have to find out
first if she wants to be collected.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“They’ll let me in, especially when they see who I am. Being
an identical twin has its uses. If necessary I’ll try all the hospitals till I
find the right one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The boys are upset, Clare, and Frederick has been acting
strangely. He seems relieved that Edith has gone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare did not want to ruffle Beatrice’s feathers any further.
Poor Frederick having a sister like Beatrice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There’s probably a simple explanation, Beatrice. I must ring
off now. I’ll let you know how I get on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beatrice speculated on what would happen when a look-alike
Edith turned up in Dover to collect her sister. Clare might be a nuisance most
of the time, but she was good to have in an emergency, whatever her failings.
Edith and Clare were devoted to one another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
However, Clare had left her in a state of curiosity. What had
she meant by ‘even for Edith’? Was something really going on between her and Mr
Morgan? Was that the reason Edith had left home? Surely not. She had met Mr
Morgan and found his manner insufferable. The feeling had been mutual. Beatrice
was the kind of overpowering female who frightened him to death. She made him
feel as if a herd of buffalo was trampling all over him. She reminded him of
his mother, actually.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare was frustrated. She had wanted to spend a quiet, happy few
days with Karl, and now she was going to have to dash back and straighten
things out for Edith instead. Edith might complain sometimes, but she had never
given any hint of wanting to run away. Clare had no idea what could have made
her do that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl was understanding, but disappointed. Of course she must go
back, but not until next day. He had opera tickets for that evening. Edith was
to all intents and purposes alone in the world. She had cut herself off from
her familiar surroundings and gone all the way to Dover, losing her memory in
the process. Karl would sort things out at the office and drive to Upper
Grumpsfield as soon as he could get away. They would talk things over at
leisure after Edith had been taken care of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So Clare left Vienna with mixed feelings. She would drive
until dark then find a motel and get a few hours' sleep before driving to
Calais and getting on the first Eurostar. She preferred boats, but the train
was faster. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
By Friday morning, Beatrice had everything at the vicarage
under control. The boys went to school as usual and Mr Parsnip did his best to
carry on with his duties, which on Fridays included visiting the elderly and
frail in the parish. Since the news had got around about Edith’s disappearance,
he was greeted with concerned questioning everywhere he went. When would Edith
be back? Was she ill? Where had she gone? Mr Parsnip told people a revised
version of the original fairy tale. Edith had been on her way to Austria, but
had changed her mind and was on the way home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan spent Friday morning moving the last of his
possessions into Robert’s upstairs flat. Most of his enthusiasm for what he had
hoped would be the start of a new era in which he would intensify his efforts
to find a wife had abated. With Edith gone, his utopian idea of persuading her
to leave her vicarage life for a new one at his side was thwarted. Edith would
not have gone away if she had wanted to be with him. And since Clare had gone
to Austria to meet up with Karl, there was no point in continuing to speculate
in that direction, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth was just unloading the last of his crockery from the
boot of his car when he was startled by the loud voice of Delilah Browne. After
getting back from Scotland, where her pub tour had ended in jubilation, she had
come to the butcher’s for something tasty and been surprised to see that Mr
Morgan was actually moving in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can I help you with that?” she shouted, causing him to jump
and hit his head on the lid of the car boot. “Oh, sorry. Did I startle you?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan rubbed his head vigorously to spread the pain out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes I did, didn’t I?” said Delilah. “Shall I rub the spot?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d rather you didn’t,” stammered Gareth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Delilah snatched the box of china from the car boot and
marched into the shop. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where does this go?”’ she demanded of Robert, who looked
startled and indicated upstairs with a gesture that told her he would have
nothing to do with the clown who was moving in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Delilah had enjoyed what she called her ‘European tour’ with a
club act. She had been delighted to get back on ‘the boards’ after ‘resting’
for longer than she cared to admit. It made no difference that the boards were
only pubs and clubs anywhere in Scotland where a sufficiently appreciative
audience could be drummed up. Delilah had been the soloist, blessed with a
voice so loud and raucous that it could shout down the most boisterous pub
caterwauling. European capitals were a far cry from the venues she had graced,
but it was their loss, not hers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was glad Delilah was back. They had plenty to talk about
and chatting to her on the phone was a relief after all the bother with Edith
and the events surrounding her romance. Cleo’s life had indeed been turned
upside down since they’d last met. Delilah was utterly amazed about the whole
situation, given that she had herself tried to encourage Robert to modernize
himself and stop smelling like mothballs and had soon given him up as a lost
cause. Her only worry was that Cleo had set herself up with a boring guy, but
that was her problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Delilah entertained Cleo with her own tale of a Scottish pub
owner who had wooed her intensively. Yes, she had been sorely tempted, but then
it became clear that what he was really looking for was a cook and barmaid. The
last straw was when the previous barmaid, who had left in a hurry, turned out
to be his wife. As Delilah pointed out, it’s one thing singing popular songs in
the pub and quite another slaving over a hot stove there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since the pub tour had been organized more or less as the
group went along, no one had known how long it would last. Its overwhelming
success was attributed by Delilah to the surge in karaoke. They usually fitted
their acts between sing-along sessions to a captive audience and quite often
Delilah had found herself judging a karaoke contest, helped along by a dishy
technician named Mitch who could have become the object of her affections had
he not been a decade younger. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Delilah had enjoyed herself so much that when the tour finally
ended she decided to open her own karaoke bar. Upper Grumpsfield village pub
had closed down when the owner died and left Delilah high and dry. The premises
were still vacant. Delilah Browne had high hopes of reopening it. She thought karaoke
might even appeal to older generations. She had mentioned it to Mitch, but he
had already been booked elsewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert told Delilah Browne to go upstairs to see what was now
going to be Gareth Morgan’s flat. It was chaotic there, so she immediately set
about tidying up. Mr Morgan was delighted. Suddenly he saw Delilah in quite a
new light. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Delilah took the opportunity to see what the flat had to
offer. It would be quite nice once everything was in place. Mr Morgan had
inherited all the bedroom furniture and a fitted kitchen. His old sofa looked
rather uncomfortable, but the rest of his stuff (that was actually Robert’s) was
in fairly good condition and she could see herself standing at the Hammond
organ practising to Mr Morgan’s accompaniment, but with no strings attached, of
course. Delilah did not think Mr Morgan was much of a catch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The organ was still wrapped up, having only just been
delivered on a tractor by two farmworkers. Delilah removed the blanket, which
smelt a bit like a farmyard, and draped it artistically over the sofa. Mr
Morgan was so taken with Delilah’s good taste that he sat down at the organ and
struck up a few chords. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Soon, Robert was amazed to hear strains of ‘Oh I do like to be
beside the seaside’ wafting into the shop as the two music-makers upstairs got
into the spirit of things. Robert could remember trips to Blackpool as a child.
They had gone to the tower and listened to the ballroom organ and he had always
joined in if he knew the tune. Not that Upper Grumpsfield was near the sea, but
you could imagine being there when you heard that particular song. Robert
wondered if Cleo had ever been to Blackpool. Would that be a suitable target
for a honeymoon?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-66141248617443983002016-01-31T09:57:00.000-08:002017-01-20T09:42:33.544-08:0020 - Lost and gone forever?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo wished Clare had timed her visit to Austria
more conveniently. As it was, the library was going to claim all her attention
for a week or two just when she should have been concentrating on her private
life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"></span></div>
<a name='more'></a>Of course, it would have been nice if they had been
able to get married before Robert settled into the cottage, but there is no
hurrying the legal system and Mr Morgan was already champing at the bit waiting
to move into the flat. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Clare was going to take Gloria Hartley to the
airport. At least that was settled. Gloria was not really looking forward to
the trip back home. She had signed a year’s lease on a little place in
Middlethumpton from the beginning of December. Good friends back home would
look after her affairs there while she was in Europe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">On the way to the airport she poured her heart out
to Clare. Now if Cleo had been married to some decent guy instead of a thug,
things would have turned out differently. Gloria felt guilty about the whole
affair. Why, oh why had she kidded herself that Jay was a good guy? She hadn’t
believed a word Cleo said in those days. Cleo had confused her with talk of a
brother who might be Jay, but she had not believed that- She had even visited
the guy named Jay in prison because she thought there must have been some awful
miscarriage of justice. Cleo had made a big effort to forgive her for
interfering, but things would probably never be the same between them again.
Unless, of course, Bobby.....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">‘I’m going to patch things up with Karl. You met him,
didn’t you, Gloria?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"> ‘Sure. Nice
guy, Karl. Good manners, charming, mature, sensible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">‘He’s so sensible that I couldn’t cope with it in
the old days. He was one of those people sometimes described as having been
born old. He’s only five years only than me, but we are really a generation
apart. I gave up trying to get things right in Vienna and walked out. But I
know better now, and we are still married, after all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“How romantic!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I need some stability in my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t we all, Clare? That’s why I’m going to spend
more time nearer Cleo. She’s the only family I have left. Don’t tell anyone
about my plans though, will you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Of course not, but I’m sure Cleo will be happy to
have you near whatever happened in the past.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I hope so. I’ll be living in Middlethumpton.
That’ll leave a little space between us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Phone me at the vicarage when you know your
arrival time. I’ll pick you up at the airport, Gloria. I don’t know if Karl
will be coming over here. That depends on his job and other family matters.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Gloria looked at Clare and nodded knowingly, which
made Clare blush.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, maybe I’ll go back to Austria instead. But
not before Christmas. I can’t leave my job without giving notice. That would be
a terrible blow to Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“When is the baby due, Clare?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Reckoning back to the night of the fire alarm, at
the vicarage, I have another six months to go. But …”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“OK. I get it. Congratulations.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Back in Upper Grumpsfield, things were not going
smoothly. Far from being modest and grateful for all the help he was getting, Gareth
Morgan had been pestering Robert at all hours, telling him what to do and how
to do it to get the flat just as he wanted it. The only thing he didn’t do was
to lift a finger to help. If asked to, he would wriggle out of it saying he had
to practise the organ, or get his car repaired, or make sure he didn’t damage
his hands. Robert was starting to regret having taken on Mr Morgan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“If you don’t like the flat, you don’t have to move
in,” he told him. “There are plenty of people who’d be grateful for such a nice
place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Oh but I am grateful, Robert. Very grateful indeed.
It’s just that I have so many things to do and decorating is not good for my
hands, honestly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Normally you would have to pay someone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“‘Ah, but then I’d leave the place as it is. I
don’t care what colour my walls are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert tried to ignore Gareth’s absurd comments.
The whole situation was rather amusing after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Over a hurried breakfast Robert told Cleo that Gareth
was a pain in the arse, beg pardon. Cleo urged him to leave the guy more to his
own devices. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I can’t do that as long as I still officially live
there, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You never sleep there, Robert. What’s the
problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Gareth doesn’t know that, does he? He’ll expect to
move in the day I announce that I’m officially out and then I’ll have the guy
pestering me in the shop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Gloria is leaving this morning. Move in here
today! Problem solved.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I don’t need her bed, Cleo, but I don’t need
Gareth hanging around the shop, either.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I wasn’t thinking of throwing you out of my bed,
Robert. Do you know what? I think you are getting cold feet!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert did not answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Is that it? Do you regret our relationship?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Of course not, but I should be making the sausages
for tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">That surely heralded in everyday life for Cleo, but
she did not see it in that light. Robert was a kind, honest, hard worker. Her
experience of men had not included such a nice guy. She would rather have him
talking about sausage-making than robbing a bank, she reflected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’ll help you. I should learn how to do all those
jobs. After all, I am going to be a butcher’s wife.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Yes, you are. I’m making things difficult and
don’t know why.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Were friends,” said Cleo. “If you are having
second thoughts, that’s OK. I don’t want to rush you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“But I want to rush,” said Robert. “I want to marry
you before someone else crops up and takes you away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Cleo had to laugh at that confession. Cleo was
single and thought she would remain so. She and Robert were a handsome couple
and their mutual affection had done wonders for both of them. That evening they
worked harmoniously at the shop to produce the strings of sausages people would
expect to see on the meat counter next morning. When the sausages were safely
refrigerated Cleo and Robert went upstairs to the flat, packed a couple of
bags, threw them into the back of Robert’s white delivery van with ‘Jones, your
family butcher’ written on both sides and across the rear doors, and drove the
short distance to Cleo’s cottage. Robert was to call it home from now on and Mr
Morgan could do what he liked with Robert’s old flat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’d better carry you across the threshold,” said Robert.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You’d better not, unless you want a slipped disk,”
said Cleo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’ve carried much heavier bodies than yours, Cleo!”
was Robert’s curious comment. Cleo thought immediately of the carcasses he had
to deal with. Being compared with them was hardly flattering. Robert’s face
reddened as he realized what he had implied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t worry about it, Robert. I know you didn’t
mean to be tactless.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert was now acutely embarrassed. Cleo continued
to play down the comment until she was quite sure that he had recovered from
the faux pas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Why don’t you unpack while I make us something to
eat? I know it’s late, but I’m hungry. Use the space Gloria left in the guest
room and we’ll reorganize our bedroom tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert tipped the contents of his bags onto the guest
bed. He had lived alone for many years. How was he going to cope with having a
woman around? What if she didn’t understand him? Would she put up with him
singing all over the house? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">In the kitchen, Cleo was making toast and wondering
how she would cope with having a man around the house. What if he had a violent
streak? Was it true that we attract the same kind of partner over and over
again? Robert could be quite frightening when he was angry. And he was as
strong as an ox. Was this relationship going to be a big mistake? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">They bumped into each other in the little vestibule
that separated the living area from the two bedrooms and bathroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I was just wondering.....” they began
simultaneously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Do you think we should.....” was the next
synchronic outburst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Ladies first....”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, you first....”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I was just thinking...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“So was I.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Maybe...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert had prevaricated long enough. Taking the initiative
was not his thing and he was far from being a Latin lover, but he would get his
act together this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Maybe what, Robert? Gloria is not here to listen
in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Oh, what the hell. Let’s just skip supper then,
shall we?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">To Cleo’s total surprise, the almost platonic
nature of their relationship was at last over. Robert had jumped that hurdle
and she was grateful that he was a gentle lover and a gentleman. They would
need a little time to get over their shyness, since they had been without
partners for a long time, but the foundations were laid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Tuesday was memorable for two main reasons, quite apart from
the new status Cleo and Robert had found. There was nothing to choose between
the events for drama and suspense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The first occurrence was the theft of Dorothy’s old
television, which would probably have been gone for ever and a day had the
burglar been less conspicuous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It isn’t often that a burglar actually rings your doorbell and
you probably wouldn’t recognize one if you saw one, since burglars tend to be
average human beings and – if they know their job – avoid shifty looks and
nervous twitches.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The thief who took Dorothy’s TV set had obviously studied
human behaviour. The hardest part was to get into a house when an occupant was at
home. But he was resourceful, another vital characteristic of anyone bent on a
criminal career. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tuning free of charge,” he offered and that had tipped the
scales in Dorothy’s favour. She had, like countless others everywhere, been
wooed by the prospect of getting something for nothing. Her TV set was so old
that it had buttons to turn instead of pads to press and only two programmes to
choose from. The ancient mahogany encased innards were in constant need of
tuning, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A local power cut helped the burglar to get into the cottage because
it was quite definite that no TVs were working in the district. The burglar
would not know the age of a TV until he saw it, but since everyone had a TV it
was a fair bet that the one in Dorothy’s cottage would work if there was a
power supply, and that would make it a candidate for theft.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Had Dorothy noticed that the power was cut off, she would have
been suspicious. As it was, once he had seen the TV, the thief had no desire to
make off with such an ancient contraption and unfortunately no opportunity to
locate anything of value in her parlour. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With his whole masquerade on the line, however, the confidence
trickster found himself shouldering the TV set to take it away for repairs. As
far as he was concerned, the whole exercise had been a dead loss up to now. His
only chance of finding something actually worth stealing would be if he brought
the TV set back, which might not be worth the effort, and getting the old woman
out of the room for long enough to make a search. The alternative would be to
dispose of the TV down the railway cutting behind Upper Grumpsfield station. He
did not cherish the idea of another confrontation with the old woman, but on
the other hand she was slightly preferable to the risk involved in chucking the
set down onto the railway lines in broad daylight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Shortly after he had disappeared round the next street corner,
the noise of a petrol-driven pneumatic drill sliced through the birdsong and Dorothy
was a little surprised to see a man making a hole in the middle of the road
opposite her cottage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘Sorry about the noise, Miss. I'm breaking up some of the
tarmac just above the electricity cable. That's why the power was cut off for a
bit. We don’t want any accidents, now do we?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“When did you cut the power off?” Dorothy asked as a terrible
thought crossed her mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“My mate did it while we oiled the machines and had a rest. When
we’ve finished this hole you’ll have power for the rest of the week because we
won’t be back till next Monday to dig some more holes. The Telecom men are
going to re-cable you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are they?’ Dorothy did not really know what that entailed,
but thought Telecom would be sure to let her know if it was going to cost her something.
Since it was now Tuesday, people would have to avoid the holes in the road for
nearly a week, but that is not what was bothering Dorothy right now. She asked
the road-mender if he had seen anyone acting strangely. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, come to think of it, I did wonder. There’s a motorbike
parked just round the corner from here, and there’s an ancient TV set sitting in
its sidecar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“A man collected my TV a few minutes ago. He must have passed
you. You did not see him pass, I take it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I was busy with the drill and my newspaper, Miss. I didn’t
have time to look up. “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender lifted his cap so that he could scratch his
head. He was an avid reader of crime reports when he wasn’t making holes in
roads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But that TV on the sidecar might be yours. I think we’d
better look into it,” he said. “I’ll just finish this hole.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A few minutes later the thief reappeared labouring under the
weight of Dorothy’s TV. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender left the hole to its own devices and went
towards the burglar. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where are you going with that?” he asked. Now he had seen the
man at close range he thought he might have seen his photo in the Police
Gazette, which his brother-in-law, a professional arm of the law, passed on to
him every week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Errr... I’m bringing her TV back. Errr ...I had a quick look
at it and it’s all right now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was about to challenge the thief when the road-mender
intervened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Leave this to me, lady,” he said, winking at Dorothy to keep
quiet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender instructed the fake repairman to put the set
back where it belonged. He had to ask himself why the man would want to risk
bringing it back having successfully absconded with it, but it crossed his mind
that such an antique object would probably be too conspicuous to sell, even if
it was worth anything. So why take it in the first place?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy went on ahead through her front door, which was still
wide open, because she hadn’t intended to go anywhere. The burglar took the TV
into the cottage and put it back on its table while Dorothy and the road-mender
watched him closely in case he got it into his head to take something else
instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What a good job there was nothing wrong with it,” Dorothy
remarked dryly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
She had not enjoyed being made a fool of and was sure anyone
else who had fallen for the ruse would feel the same. Unnoticed by the thief, who
was making a show of tuning it now it was working Dorothy sidled out of the
parlour into the hall and made a hasty phone-call.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender blocked the parlour door, confident that he
had cornered a wanted criminal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So you decided against that particular TV set, did you?” he
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, come on. Give me a break. You’ve got to admit it was a
good idea, waiting till the power was off. I usually have to fix them broken on
the spot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender was flabbergasted. The thief obviously thought
he must be just as dishonest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Go on. I’ll give you a cut next time if you don’t let on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why did you have to take it in the first place? You must have
seen that it was ancient.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The old girl had such a suspicious mind that I thought it
would be safer to keep the act up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The man tried to push the road-mender aside, cursing that he
had been rumbled by a road-mender and an old woman. He was already too late to
escape however. The police patrol car summoned urgently by Dorothy had been on
the way to a similar suspicious burglary. It drew up in front of the cottage
and the two police officers soon matched the thief with the description several
victims had given them over the past few days. He was led off in handcuffs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since the power was back on, Dorothy put the kettle on and since
the road-mender was still hovering he was invited to share a pot of tea and a
whopping slice of currant bread. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’ll have to give evidence in court, Miss.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Will I? I’ve never done that before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And maybe you should go to your doctor and complain of shock
symptoms. You could claim damages for being frightened out of your wits.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was quite sure that she would not want to say anything
dishonest, especially about her mental state. The man shrugged his shoulders
and told her she would be a fool not to. He was just about to regale her with
tales of people making a fortune out of such incidents when the doorbell rang
again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was very surprised that the vicar was calling on her
at breakfast time. He usually timed his visits to coincide with the moment
Dorothy took something delicious she had baked out of the oven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was not wearing his usual smile. In fact he was
extremely agitated. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’d better come in and tell me what’s wrong, Frederick.
This is Mr ...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Lewis. Please to meet you, Vicar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mr Lewis has just helped me catch a thief.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Really? I’ve no time for that today. Edith has gone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Gone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, gone. Without leaving a note.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where could she have gone to?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” snapped the
vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Lewis was listening to this dialogue wide-eyed. His inner sleuth
came back into action. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“When did you first miss her, if I may ask?” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Between last night and breakfast.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘What do you mean by last night, Frederick? Did you errr?’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy had often wondered about the Parsnip marriage. Had it
gone on the rocks? Surely not. Edith was such a faithful soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No I didn’t, young man. I did an extra all-night vigil in the
church,” Mr Parsnip explained. “I try to do that every Tuesday night but I did an
extra vigil last night as well because I had to think about something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can’t you think at home, Vicar?” said the road-mender.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not with 5 children and a nervous wife, Mr Lewis.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Frederick was talking about his family as if he hated them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The road-mender thought for a moment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So your lady wife used the vigil to make her escape, I mean
leave home, did she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Lewis’s remark was not in good taste, but it might not have
been far off the truth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She must have. What am I going to do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Call the police,” Dorothy advised. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t do that. The bishop would find out and I’d be in
disgrace. He’s started threatening to close St Peter’s. That would give him
another reason.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why should you be in disgrace for something Edith has done, Vicar?
That doesn’t make sense,” said Lewis.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I agree with Mr Lewis,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I haven’t been a very attentive husband lately,” said the
vicar. Mir Lewis suspected there must be something sexual about the
disappearance of the woman named Edith. “I might have driven her to do
something she’d regret.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Rubbish, Frederick. Edith is not likely to do anything
terrible. Mind you, she seemed a bit preoccupied at the meeting last Sunday. Clare
was not quite herself either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was improvising. She had noticed the way Edith kept
glancing at Gareth Morgan, but had dismissed any notion of some kind of
clandestine arrangement as a figment of her imagination. On the other hand, who
knows how desperate a woman can get when she’s cooped up in a draughty old
house with five rowdy boys to rear and a husband who’s on a different planet
half the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy’s sympathies tended to be on Edith’s side, but she
would have to support Frederick now. Edith must be found, and fast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who’s Clare,” asked Mr Lewis.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith’s twin sister,” replied Mr Parsnip in terse tones. He
did not like Mr Lewis’s interference, though he seemed to be on friendly terms
with Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Could she have something to do with it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. She left for Austria yesterday morning and she won’t be
back till next week,” said Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare is too busy getting her own life sorted out to want to
put Edith up to anything,” the vicar added. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And that, thought Dorothy, was about the most perceptive thing
Mr Parsnip had ever said about anyone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Lewis was now totally involved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I hate to ask this, but is there a chance of another man
being involved?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip’s face turned ashen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What do you mean, Mr. Lewis?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Another man. An affair. Someone she’s been seeing on the
side.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy gasped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was beside himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t think of anyone Edith would want to see on the side,”
he said. “Perhaps she just wanted to be alone for a bit, or she’s gone
shopping. Maybe we should just wait and see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If you think that’s for the best, Frederick. As you say,
Edith might just have gone shopping.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy didn’t believe that for one minute, but as usual, Frederick
Parsnip was proving useless in a crisis and helping him was something beyond
her power. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Either you call the police or you go home and wait,
Frederick,” she said as that idea occurred to her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
She ushered the men out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Lewis went back to his hole in the road and Mr Parsnip got
on his bike and peddled erratically back to the vicarage. He’d have to find
someone for the boys if Edith hadn’t turned up by teatime. They needed someone,
Dorothy had told him as a parting shot. She had shown him almost no sympathy
and not even suggested coming to the vicarage and taking over. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar felt self-pity overcoming him. He hadn’t yet given serious
thought to actually looking for Edith. Did she want him to find her? If so,
surely she would have left him a note. What
would she have done if he’d walked out? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip resolved to tell everyone that Mrs Parsnip had gone
to Austria. That would give him time to sort himself out. He wished he felt
more sadness than anger, but he didn’t. Edith could be very annoying when she
put her mind to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When the vicar was out of sight, Mr Lewis walked back to
Dorothy and told her that there was no getting round it; the police must be
called in. Dorothy agreed, but was unwilling to take the initiative. Mr Lewis
went back to his hole-digging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">When Edith got off the train in Dover it was just
after midday and she could not for the life of her remember how she had got
there. In fact, she could not remember anything at all, not even her name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">She looked at her reflection in a glass door. Who
was this person looking back at her? What was she doing on a station platform?
And why was she in Dover?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">It was a muggy November day and Edith was wearing only
a summer jacket. She shivered as she made her way to the main hall. She took a ticket
out of her jacket pocket and looked at it closely. It was a used bus ticket
from a place called Upper Grumpsfield. She had never heard of Upper
Grumpsfield. If she could just remember who she was, she thought. Edith rummaged
in her handbag for clues, but there were none. Her purse was almost empty.
Whoever she was, she was quite poor. Edith found some loose change in the other
pocket of her jacket and decided to get herself a drink from one of the vending
machines. Then she sat on a bench and sipped at her paper beaker of cocoa,
wondering what people did who couldn’t remember who they were. If I can
remember how to read, why can’t I remember my name? she pondered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dover station was busy. People hurrying to their
connections gave her but a passing glance. Of course, they didn’t know she had
lost her memory. About an hour must have passed before one of the station staff
came up to her and asked if he could be of assistance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Where do you want to go, Miss?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">”‘I don’t know” Edith replied. “I don’t know
anything, not even my name.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The man wondered if she had been taking drugs. She
wasn’t drunk, but seemed to be in another world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I think we’d better go to the station office,
Miss. They can probably help you.” He didn’t want to get involved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith followed the man, dragging her little
suitcase on wheels along behind her. She felt quite elated, but she could not
have explained why. The suitcase only contained simple cosmetic necessities, a
few garments and a pair of shoes, it transpired. No clues to her identity
there, either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dover station master’s attempts to get any
information out of Edith were fruitless. He was obliged to call the paramedics,
who bundled her into their ambulance and took her to a local hospital. She
would need psychiatric help, they were sure. Edith acquiesced to everything.
The police were called. They would look through their files for any persons
fitting her description who had been reported missing, starting in the Upper
Grumpsfield area, though the bus ticket might not be hers. She might have just
picked it up somewhere. And that was all they could or even wanted to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith would have been of more interest to them if
she had been a corpse. Now that was a challenge. But a seemingly healthy person
can do anything within the law, including making a disappearance. If she had
committed no crime, she was just another case of someone leaving home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The police took photographs of her and left her in
the care of the hospital psychologist, who placed a questionnaire in front of
her and watched her struggle with it while he ostensibly dealt with some
paperwork.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“It isn’t that I don’t want to answer all these
questions,“ Edith assured him. “But I can’t. I don’t remember anything about
myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t worry. We can do some tests,” the
psychologist told her. He was used to people pretending they had lost their
memory. It always took a while before they tripped up and gave the game away,
so saying they would do some tests often saved him the trouble in the end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">But if this woman was a genuine case, there might
be a physical reason for it, such as a slight stroke, or a bump on the head, or
medication of some kind. They would have to know what to do with her before
passing her on to the next instance that would be the police if they meanwhile discovered
something illegal, or she would remember her home address and decide to go
home. It was now well past tea-time. He couldn’t do anything more for her that
day. Edith wished she could remember something, although she was rather enjoying
being a mystery woman and getting selfless attention from kind people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The psychologist pressed a buzzer on the underside
of his desk and almost immediately a nurse entered the room with a worried look
on her face. She was relieved to find the psychologist in no danger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Take this patient to a quiet ward and give her some
supper and a mild sedative,” he told her. “She looks as if she needs a good
night’s sleep more than anything else.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith allowed herself to be led to a small side ward
which had only one other occupant, a young woman who greeted her briefly before
returning to gazing out of the window. Edith ate what was on her supper tray, swallowed
a sedative, undressed and slipped into the pyjamas she had found in her
suitcase. Hardly had her head touched the pillow than she fell into a deep
sleep, blissfully unaware of the consternation back in Upper Grumpsfield.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy was shocked at her friend Frederick
Parsnip’s ambivalent reaction to his wife’s disappearance. He hadn’t even suggested
looking for her, but he had hinted that Clare was more of a curse than a
blessing. He seemed to think that Clare had something to do with her sister’s
disappearance, but he did not say as much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">So had Clare led Edith astray? Dorothy thought that
Clare had behaved quite sensibly of late, but she wasn’t really up to date with
all the goings-on at the vicarage and was sceptical about a possible
reconciliation between her and Karl von Klippen, which was what she suspected
Clare’s trip to Austria to be in aid of. Surely Clare could not have had a hand
in Edith’s disappearance if she was a thousand miles away. Or could she? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">One thing was certain and that was that Gareth
Morgan had set his cap at one of the two sisters. Dorothy wasn’t sure which one.
She thought he might be having trouble telling them apart, but there was a
faint possibility that he knew something about Edith’s whereabouts. She would
ask him. No use speculating. Facts were what were needed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Since she had heard that Mr Morgan was moving into
the flat above Robert’s shop very soon, she would pop down to the shop and ask Robert
about Mr Morgan’s current whereabouts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, he hasn’t moved in yet, Dorothy. He has
brought some of his stuff over, but we’re going to paint the walls at the
weekend so he’ll have to wait till next week to settle in. Anyway, I’m still
moving out, though I don’t sleep here anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert blushed a little at these words. Dorothy
smiled knowingly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, I’m glad everything has turned out so well
for you, Robert. You had me worried a few weeks ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I had myself worried, Dorothy. I behaved very
badly. It’s a wonder that Cleo could forgive me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You’re a lucky man, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Yes, I am. So what can I do for you today, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I need to find Mr Morgan, Robert. I thought you
might know where he is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Sorry. I can’t help you on that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Never mind. I’ll try the church. He might be
practising.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Is it about Edith Parsnip, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Yes, it is. I suppose the whole world knows by
now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I expect she had her reasons,” said Robert, thinking
of all the rumours he had heard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I hope you don’t listen to gossip, Robert,” said
Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I listen to it, but don’t believe it all. Take
some sausages with you for tea, Dorothy. Freshly made.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“That’s a good idea. Cleo told me you are still
busy clearing your old flat out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert nodded happily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Not furniture. Gareth can use it. Cleo’s cottage
is already fully furnished.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy was as happy for the Cleo’s new happiness
as she would have been for her own. She couldn’t help remembering her own brief
romance all those years ago. What if....? Shaking off the melancholy that had
overcome her out of the blue, she slipped some coins for the sausages onto the
glass counter top, since Robert invariably refused to take money from her, and
walked briskly to St Peter’s in search of Mr Morgan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Sure enough, she could hear the organ as she
approached. Mr Morgan was quite glad to see Dorothy, but he was horrified when
heard the reason for her visit.</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Why that’s terrible, Dorothy. Gone away suddenly?
Are you sure?” </span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Mr Parsnip told me himself. He thought she might
have just gone shopping.”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, that’s all right then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I don’t suppose you know where else she could have
gone to, do you, Mr Morgan?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Me? Why should I know?”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan was leaning over the side of the organ gallery,
so Dorothy was forced to crick her neck and raise her voice, which made it
quite difficult to say what she wanted to.</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, I thought you were quite partial to Edith Parsnip;
or is it Clare?”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan was so disconcerted that he didn’t lodge
a protest. In fact, if he hadn’t been clutching the balustrade, he might easily
have fallen head first into the pews below. Had he forgotten he had told her
about his infatuation?</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“To be honest, I did used to have a little fond
feeling for the ladies, but I realise that there’s no future in it, so I’ve
moved on.”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’m glad to hear that, Mr Morgan. Is there someone
new in your life?”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Not quite, but now I’m moving house, who knows
what may be in store for me.”</span><span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan was optimistic about his own future and
seemed almost indifferent to what was happening to Edith Parsnip. He might be
putting on an act. He might be concealing Edith somewhere, but if he had
something to do with her disappearance, he was hardly likely to tell anyone.
Cleo might have more luck. She was good at solving mysteries. Dorothy swore Mr
Morgan to secrecy about Edith’s disappearance. Back home, she phoned the
library, hoping that Cleo could shed light on the mystery. It was worth a try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A few hours later Dorothy was sitting in Cleo Hartley living-room
drinking coffee. Edith’s disappearance -
and Dorothy had checked if Edith had in fact already reappeared - had priority
even over Robert’s move. Cleo would be only too glad to help if she could.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can you think of any reason Edith Parsnip might want to leave
home, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo shook her head although she privately thought that it
must be rather awful being married to the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She was acting a little strangely at the meeting last Sunday.
She hardly took her eyes off that funny organist guy.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, I noticed that, too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He’s smartened himself up. He’s quite a dapper young man
these days.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dapper?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You know, smart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He’s at least 40, Dorothy. I don’t know why you say he’s
young.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I suppose I meant immature,” said Dorothy, and Cleo nodded
agreement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy thought it had something to do with moving into Robert
Jones’s flat. She explained briefly that he had once set his sights at Edith
and was now in a dilemma because he could not tell if Clare was Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo found the idea that Edith could consider having an affair
with Mr Morgan nothing short of absurd, and said so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I could tell you a story about identical twins that would
make your hair really stand on end, Dorothy, but now is not the time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do tell me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Another time, Dorothy. We need to stay with our present
dilemma,” said Cleo. “How are we going to deal with a Gareth Morgan who has set
his sights on romantic roles at the impro show?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can’t we leave Laura to sort that one out?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not after the way she ridiculed him at the meeting, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Robert was just as bad, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But Robert was amused. Laura was malicious.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Sorry,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I know what you mean, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was a silence while they both thought over the current
problem of Edith’s disappearance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It could be a personality problem of Edith’s if she has run
away. I don’t envy her job as vicar’s wife. She’d cope better if she had
Clare’s personality.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Then she would not have married him,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s true and do you know what? I think that it’s only men
can’t tell Clare and Edith apart at a glance. Robert never knows which one he’s
sold meat to from looking at them. But he says they are like chalk and cheese
as far as personality is concerned, and I’m sure that’s true. As soon as Clare
cracks a joke, he knows it can’t be Edith. Edith has never cracked a joke in
her life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare is actually a bit taller than Edith,” said Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But if they aren’t standing next to one another, you can’t
very well compare their height, can you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, of course not,” said Dorothy. “But Mr Morgan was
concentrating on their eyes, he told me. And this morning when I interrupted
his organ practice to ask him if he had any idea where Edith could be, he told
me that any torch he had been carrying for the two ladies was now extinguished.
He also promised not to say a word to anyone about Edith going away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Let’s hope he keeps his word,” said Cleo. “I would not be
surprised if Edith had cleared off!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo thought it was a pity that Mr Morgan hadn’t disappeared,
too. That would have explained everything. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy helped herself to a second bagel. Cleo filled her cup
with wonderful coffee. They agreed that Robert Jones was sure to be well looked
after now his bachelor days were over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sure he needs caring for, “said Cleo. “That’s one of his
main attractions for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I hope it isn’t the only one, Cleo,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So where shall we start looking for her?” said Cleo, ignoring
Dorothy’s last remark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, Frederick Parsnip seemed in no hurry to call in the
police and he may be right. What if they were called in unnecessarily? That
would shed a very bad light on him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But surely that’s not the point?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“As far as Mr Parsnip is concerned, it is. Annoying the bishop
is about the worst thing he could do in his view,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He’s a heartless guy,” said Cleo. “She could do with some TLC
in her life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d agree if I knew what that was,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tender Loving Care.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy wondered about her friend Frederick’s character. What
if he wasn’t quite what he seemed? He’d been a good friend to her, but sometimes
she got the feeling that there was a darker side to his nature. She wondered
how dark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We all have a darker side, Dorothy. It doesn’t mean he has
done anything wrong.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As Cleo pacified Dorothy, she too had a feeling of foreboding
about the whole business.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He’s such a mild guy and I thought he had a good marriage,”
said Cleo. “All those kids!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“They don’t prove anything, Cleo. Something must have happened
to change things, but I’ve no idea what. And the vicar hasn’t the faintest idea
what’s going on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He might not even have noticed, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s true.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But there’s no point in speculating. Even if Mr Parsnip
doesn’t want to find his wife, we do, don’t we? So let’s make a plan!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy nodded her approval.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“First, we should call the vicarage again and see if she’s
turned up,” Dorothy suggested. “I’d better do that, Cleo. Frederick doesn’t
know I’ve told anyone except Mr Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, let me, Dorothy. As you say, he does not know that I know
and he might think you are fussing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Whether Cleo also thought that Dorothy was fussing is of no
account here. Before she could remonstrate, Cleo had picked up the phone and
dialled the vicarage number.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Trust me,” she whispered, and then at her normal volume “Ah vicar.
How are you today?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had turned the loudspeaker on so they could both hear the
coughing and spluttering that went on at the other end after this seemingly
innocuous inquiry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Errump, quite all right, Cleo, errump. What can I do for you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d just like a word with Edith. It’s about the catering for
the theatre show.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
This time Mr Parsnip was completely thrown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Errump errump errump...” he spluttered. “She’s gone to visit
her sister in Austria.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
For a vicar, he’s a pretty slick liar, thought Cleo. Now it
was her turn to improvise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh really? That must have been a sudden decision. We were
talking about the catering on Monday and she didn’t mention Austria. In fact,
she asked me for my bagel recipe. Can you get her to call back as soon as
possible? There’s no time to waste.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll do that, errump Cleo. I’ll do that!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If Mr Parsnip was feeling bad about Edith’s disappearance, he
was doing a good job of concealing the fact. Cleo couldn’t help feeling
disgusted. Dorothy was dismayed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How clever of you to think of that way to find out, Cleo. It
would never have occurred to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So now we know she hasn’t come back yet, Dorothy. And the vicar
has obviously settled on the Austria story so that he doesn’t lose face.”<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-67699095240752280862016-01-31T03:55:00.000-08:002017-01-19T13:18:31.149-08:0019 - Christmas is coming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The time between the talent contest and Christmas
was too short to organize a replica of the previous year’s pantomime that had
packed the old school hall to bursting point and been riotously entertaining.
As usual when faced with a dilemma, it wasn’t to Edith that Mr Parsnip turned
for advice, but to Dorothy, who could run rings round most people he knew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"></span></div>
<a name='more'></a>Frederick Parsnip mounted his bicycle clips, pulled
his old bike from under all the others in the shed, and peddled his way through
the village, this time taking the shorter route past Cleo’s cottage on the
corner to Dorothy’s cottage, 44.Monkton way. It was a Wednesday afternoon and
too cold to sing hymns in the open air or ride a bike unless wrapped up like an
Eskimo. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The shortest route to Dorothy’s was past Cleo
Hartley’s cottage, so he decided to go there first and see how she was getting
on in her engagement to Mr Jones. After the public exchange of marriage promises
at the talent contest, they were looking forward to the real ceremony in the
not too distant future. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well hello, Mr Parsnip. Nice to see you. Come in,
won’t you? What can I do for you? You look frozen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, it is rather cold.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">That understatement sent more shivers down his
spine and Cleo beckoned hastily to him to come in, not least because the warmth
inside the cottage was escaping rapidly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip trotted obediently into the cottage
beating his upper arms by crossing them in order to get the circulation going
again. A blazing fire invited him to warm himself. Since it was Wednesday
afternoon, the library was closed, as was Robert’s shop. Robert Jones, who had
now taken up residence at the cottage, vacated the armchair nearest the blazing
fire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Have some hot chocolate, Mr Parsnip! You look
frozen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The vicar was glad he had come. Fires at the vicarage
could not compete with this snugness. He accepted the offer of cocoa gratefully
and tried to think of something to say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was usually the last one to hear
anything new. That phenomenon could be explained by arguing that he had a habit
of forgetting everything that was said to him, so telling him would be futile
in any case. But in truth he often hadn’t been listening, especially when in
the throes of composing a sermon. Since the vicar’s new sermons were uncannily
like some of the old ones, he might have spared himself the trouble, but he had
forgotten them himself, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">When the conversation had been non-existent for
several minutes waiting for Mr Parsnip to have a reason for being there, Cleo
finally said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I finally got a phone-call from the lawyer’s
office to confirm that my husband is dead, Mr Parsnip. When I told them after
my mother arrived, they didn’t believe me. They were still waiting for the
coroner’s office to send the autopsy report. They were quite sorry I didn’t
need a divorce. They said there had been funny business going on somewhere but
the identity problems now solved.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I understand,” nodded the vicar, who didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You see, my deceased husband had a twin brother
and they shared their crimes as well as their parents,” Cleo continued, and
this time Robert was hearing something he had not heard before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“But I will have the death certificate soon and I
can get married again if I want to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">If Cleo was uncertain in retrospect about which brother
she had actually married and which one
was now dead, it was because Jay, who insisted he was her husband, and Ken, his
twin brother, had been known to swap identities. Ken had even made it to her
bed. That had shocked her, not least because she only knew she had been having
sex with Ken because Jay had returned from somewhere and thrown Ken out of
their bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Even now she experienced that shock and
embarrassment every time she remembered that she had not really ever known
which twin was her husband. Both had been passionate lovers, but it was Jay who
had kicked her in the stomach and Jay who had killed her unborn baby,
suspecting that it was a bastard sired by his brother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">It was good to know she was now a widow, thus free
of that horror once and for all. But was she? Would she ever know? It was just
as well that Robert was not a passionate lover. He was not really interested in
a physical union. At that moment she did not want that either. She did not want
an impatient, frantic lover, and certainly not one she could not even reliably
identify. She tried not to think about Gary, who had awakened in her all the
passion in her that she had thought was spent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The vicar had heard about Cleo’s widowhood from Robert,
but was unable to decide the level of condolence that was expected of him. Now
he felt bound to say something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Aren’t you just a little sad about it all, Miss
Hartley?’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Should I be? I know I have darkish skin, but the
beatings he dealt out to me showed up beautifully in all colours of the
rainbow, Mr Parsnip. Do you know that I once spent three weeks in hospital
recovering from one of his violent attacks? He killed my unborn child, too.
Should I feel anything but loathing for that man?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was shocked and dismayed, and regretted
having said anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“We should pray for his soul, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I don’t think he had one,” Cleo retorted, clearly
unwilling to say another word on the topic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Now feeling most uncomfortable, Mr Parsnip thanked Cleo
for putting him in the picture, emptied his cup hastily, sprang to his feet and
made for the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Won’t you have another cocoa before you go, Mr
Parsnip?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No time today. I have to visit Dorothy now on
urgent business.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Outside in the cold Mrs Parsnip thought he had had
a lucky escape, though he could not have defined what he was escaping from
except that he was shocked and afraid of the tale Cleo had told him about her
past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Cleo and Robert reflected silently that they had
found friendship and sincere love, however you liked to define them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Sometimes Dorothy thought she should have set up a
citizen’s advice bureau, so often was she consulted on matters great and small.
When she looked up from her Beethoven sonata and caught a glimpse of Mr Parsnip
propping his bike up against the garden wall, she knew it was on the cards that
he had a problem, though he usually bluffed and said he was just making sure
she was all right. That afternoon was no exception.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You look a bit peaky, Dorothy,” was his opening
gambit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Do I? I expect it’s Beethoven again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Beethoven? Is that’s your cat’s name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, of course not. I mean my sonata. The last
movement is so difficult. I’ve been practising the same page all day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">As if on cue, a small cat strolled into Dorothy’s
parlour and sprang elegantly onto the arm of Mr Parsnip’s chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">‘That’s Mimi, Frederick! Isn’t she beautiful?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">After the sad loss of her dog Minor, Dorothy had
resolved never to have another pet. Mimi was probably somebody else’s cat. When
she started calling on the cottage, it was only for short visits, but they got
longer and longer until the little animal finally came to stay. No one seemed
to miss her. Dorothy consulted her neighbour, Mrs Barker, about it. They phoned
the animal sanctuary in Middlethumpton, where Dorothy was told she could take
another fifty little cats home if she liked, and only reluctantly offered the
choice of bringing the cat along if it was a nuisance. Mrs Barker thought Mimi
was about six months old. She was lovable and friendly and Dorothy didn’t have
the heart to take her to Middlethumpton and leave her to her fate. And anyway,
Mimi was good company. She even liked scrambled egg and gravy. Indeed, Mrs
Barker had already scolded Dorothy for putting Mimi on a human diet and urged
her to buy decent cat food instead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Very soon after Mimi moved in, Mr Barker was sent
by Mrs Barker to change the large dog flap for a small cat flap in Dorothy’s
back door so that Mimi could be independent if she felt like it. Since he was
an ardent do-it-yourselfer and over the moon that Dorothy had not replaced
Minor, with whom he had never been able to come to terms, he was more than
willing to undertake the task. In the end it involved installing a whole new
door, since you can only make holes bigger, not smaller, and patching it up
would have looked very unsightly. Dorothy didn’t mind at all. The old door had
been sliced in half horizontally like one in a western, and it was very
draughty through the crack halfway down. Now she would have a door in one piece
with a little window at the top and a little cat-flap at the bottom. After all,
Upper Grumpsfield does not have a Texan climate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was nervous about cats. Priscilla, the
old vicarage tabby, got under everyone’s feet and brought in a stream of
headless birds and rigid mice that Edith assured the vicar were peace
offerings. He called it bribery. Priscilla always liked to be the centre of
attention, to sit on the most comfortable chair, pinch the cheese off his
bread, run between his feet until he stumbled, and get on his nerves by always
wanting to be on the other side of any door that was closed. Priscilla only
behaved like that with him. Edith told him that if he showed her a little
affection, she would stop annoying him. The vicar did not have a very Christian
attitude to Priscilla and the words he used to expel her from his presence were
more pagan than polite. Now he would be confronted by another such little
monster every time he went to see Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip took care not to show his aversion to
Mimi, but like any other cute feline, Mimi sensed it and fawned around him
trying to curry affection. Asked why he didn’t like pets in general and cats in
particular, Mr Parsnip would reply that the command ‘Love thy neighbour’ does
not continue ‘and thy neighbour’s pets’ and he refused point blank to enter
into a discussion about whether animals have souls. That, he declared, was unlikely
and therefore irrelevant. The Victorian slant on the vicar’s philosophy was
very evident in his attitude to animals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Some you eat, some you hate,” he would say if the
topic was mentioned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy invited him to partake of tea and home-made
currant bread. Between gulps of this and mouthfuls of that, compliments on the
bread and thanks for allowing him to have 4 lumps of sugar in his tea, he
finally got round to broaching the topic that was bothering him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“What are we doing for Christmas, Dorothy?” he
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’ll just take it quietly with Mimi, thanks. I
don’t go to Frint-on-Sea at Christmas. It’s too windy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, I mean, what can we do at the church hall for
Christmas?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Isn’t it a bit late to start anything new,
Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Rather mendaciously, she told him that she had been
hoping the timing of the talent contest would not prevent a new show being
rehearsed, but everyone had been so busy getting their talents sorted out that the
result was....well, nothing at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Can’t you think of anything, Dorothy? You usually
do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I suppose we could invite the winners of the talent
contest to perform again,” proposed the vicar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Or we could have an impro theatre evening and do
some carol singing at the end, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was puzzled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Impro? What would that entail, Dorothy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“It’s quite simple, really, said Dorothy explaining
how the evening would be organized. Anyone who wanted to take part would
register. On the day they would all meet and be sorted into groups. They would
be given a situation and asked to act it out, making everything up as they went
along. The audience would decide which group had put on the best performance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“The best part is that there won’t be any need for
rehearsals,” Dorothy concluded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“It could all go wrong, Dorothy. Are you sure it’s
a good idea?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well, on your head be it! We’ll have a meeting on
Sunday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Do you thing that is necessary, Frederick?” said
Dorothy, fearing that Laura would immediately put a spanner in the works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Of course it’s necessary. We must ask the committee
to help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Help what?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“This and that,” the vicar replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“We haven’t got a committee,” Dorothy was obliged
to remind the vicar. She would not ask him what this and that were because
Frederick would not know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Then we’ll have to form one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“But without Laura Finch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Now now, Dorothy, don’t be mean-spirited!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“She takes the biscuit for mean-spiritedness,
Frederick. Have you forgotten the lies she told us all?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“No, but there’s no point in bearing a grudge. I’m
sure she’s really sorry....”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“...that she was found out, you mean, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy was as unforgiving about Laura Finch’s
scandalous past as Mr Parsnip was determined to rehabilitate her. Dorothy
finally gave in. She graciously consented to Laura being on the committee. Mr
Parsnip was relieved. Imagine she had been left out! She would have made
terrible scenes and perhaps even gone to the newspapers and given St Peter’s a
bad name. That would never do. Anything that could antagonize the bishop must
be avoided at all costs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“But you can phone her, Frederick. I want nothing
to do with the formation of your committee and no social contact with Laura
Finch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“The main thing is that you will be on it, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Only if you insist.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I do,” said the vicar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">In truth, Dorothy was glad she would be on the
committee because Laura Finch would be sure to make absurd conditions or rules
for potential participants in the impro show. Dorothy was sure the vicar would
regret having the Finch woman on the committee at all, and an Impro Show was
her idea, after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip felt uneasy. He had never known his good
friend Dorothy to be reluctant before, especially as the theatre evening was
all her idea. He peddled home against a strong east wind. It was nearly
December and he hadn’t even starting thinking about his own role in the seasonal
festivities. But he’d take time to soak in a steaming bathtub first before
starting to think, he decided. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">By the time he’d thrown his bicycle onto the others
in the shed and told Edith she should find a new hobby, purely to distract her
from asking questions, he wondered if he had frostbite and had his toes fallen
off yet. They hadn’t, but it took him a good hour in the bathtub with several
hot water replenishments to get his temperature back to normal. Only then did
he start worrying about what Edith would have to say about yet another meeting
requiring refreshments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith Parsnip was used to meetings at the vicarage and
usually showed willingness to cope with them. She actually took them in her stride
without letting on that they were a welcome change from normal Sunday
afternoons, even if the meetings were always attended by the same people and in
her view served no useful purpose. Mr Parsnip enjoyed expounding at length on what
he had in mind, always assuming that he could remember when the time came.
Edith supposed meeting were therapeutic. Phone calls would not be suitable for
the kind of message the vicar wanted to get across, but Edith decided that it was
just as well the committee members invariably took over once the meeting got
going. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">This time it was going to be a different kettle of
fish for the vicar. He actually wanted someone to take over rather than sulking
because his prepared speech was not being given a satisfactory hearing. He did
not have the slightest idea how Dorothy and the others were going to solve the
problems involved with putting on anything theatrical at short notice. His
attempt to explain to Edith what the meeting was going to be about was so garbled
that Edith just shrugged her shoulders and hoped he knew what he was letting
himself in for. She had better things to do than waiting for Mr Parsnip to
become coherent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t worry! I’m not going to act, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t be so sure, Frederick. You know how
insistent Laura Finch and Dorothy Price can both be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">It suddenly dawned on him that Dorothy could be
right about her pessimism concerning participation by Laura Finch, but it was
too late now. He had already phoned her and invited her to the meeting. Edith
had heard him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t expect me to join in,” Edith told the vicar.
“I’ve got enough to do with the five boys and Christmas coming up with all
those dinners to organize for the various groups.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip wondered if the impro theatre idea would
be taken up at all. He rather wished it wouldn’t, but had no idea how to stop
the ball rolling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">After a difficult Sunday morning, made tedious by
an uninspired church service, due to the vicar’s insistence on lecturing rather
than preaching about doing things out of the goodness of one’s heart, and made indigestible to the point of
dyspepsia by a heavy lunch eaten far too hurriedly, Mr Parsnip was just getting
into his afternoon snooze when the doorbell rang and he heard Edith expressing
surprise at the sight of Mr Morgan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Why wasn’t I invited to the meeting?” he said. “I
always come to the meetings.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“How do you know about it, Mr Morgan?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“A little bird told me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Oh, you mean Mrs Finch, I suppose.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Well…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I don’t know what she told you, Gareth. Come in
and ask Mr Parsnip about the meeting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t you know about it, Edith?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Sort of,” she replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Gareth Morgan was behaving strangely, she thought.
He normally hated being at meetings. She wondered if it had anything to do with
Clare since she could not fail to notice that he no longer gushed over her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip appeared in the hall, bleary-eyed after
being woken so rudely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You can go home. There won’t be any music, Mr
Morgan,” he said, turning to go back into his study. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“How do you know,” persisted Mr Morgan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The vicar merely shrugged his shoulders and went
back to his study. He would leave Mr Morgan to Edith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“There’s always music,” Gareth shouted after him. “And
if there isn’t, what am I doing here?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You weren’t actually invited, Gareth,” said Edith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“That was an omission, Edith,” the organist
replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip appeared in the doorway of his study. He
had made up his mind to deal with Mr Morgan himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“We are going to have an impro drama evening, not a
musical one, Mr Morgan, though I don’t yet know what it will entail.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was still tired, but he realised that
the chance of him getting back to his nap were now nil. Yawning extensively, he
ushered Mr Morgan into the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“It’s all Dorothy’s idea. Get Edith to give you a
cup of tea.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Tea was not what Mr Morgan had in mind, but he nodded
compliantly. Edith Parsnip was arranging some rather nice muffins on a plate. In
the absence of a third party, Mr Morgan would now have had a chance to hint at
the admiration he felt for her and especially her sister, but he was
tongue-tied. Anyway, he still had not decided which of the two sisters he
preferred and was being side-tracked by the sight of the muffins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Do you still like muffins, Gareth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The organist nodded eagerly and helped himself to several.
Were they really on first name terms? In Gareth’s mind, that was an intimate
gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith turned away so that he could not see her amusement.
Gareth Morgan was precocious, but she enjoyed watching him appreciate her
baking the way she appreciated his organ playing. Soon she would creep into the
church again and listen to him practising. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan wondered why she had stopped listening in
and would have liked to ask her. Edith did not know that he had been playing
especially for her or even that he knew when she was there listening. An
organist sees more than one might think. The mirror provides a panoramic view.
He knew when Edith was hiding behind a column. Anyway, it was always Edith.
Even if Clare had been there before she came, she would never listen to him
practising. That was a reason to prefer Edith. Clare did not bake delicious
cakes, either, as far as he knew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">One after another, the prospective members of the
committee arrived, exchanged small talk, took their seats and were soon treated
to Mr Parsnip’s lengthy preamble, which was as usual brought to an end by Dorothy
exhorting him to get to the point. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Clare was taking the minutes. She was not going to
join the committee, she declared. The more people there were on a committee,
the fewer decisions would be reached. And anyway, she was not going to be
around for a week or two. Edith had already counted herself out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I don’t really want to be on a committee, either,”
declared Robert, who was attending his very first meeting at the vicarage. He
was only there to represent Cleo because she was feeling under the weather. “Tell
me what to do and I’ll help out, but someone else must make the decisions. I
can’t decide things for Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan counted the heads round the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">‘That goes for me, too,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Parsnip was sure that Mr Morgan was not a
suitable candidate for impro theatre, so it was a relief that the committee
would be spared his participation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Anyway, I want to be on the stage acting, don’t I?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Do you, Gareth?” said Laura. She was astonished. She had
thought the little Welshman was shy and modest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“We used to play charades at Christmas. I always
got the best parts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I’m not sure that’s quite the same thing,” said
Laura.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy was alarmed. What if he insisted on playing
a hero? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Cleo had changed her mind about attending the
meeting. She felt better and thought she might be able to prevent the worst
decisions being made. Edith let her in and she sat next to Robert, squeezing
his hand in thanks that he had wanted to save her the bother of coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I think we should first decide what we are going
to get people to perform,” she said “But only if I’m on the committee, of
course. I don’t have to be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">”Oh you are,” said Mr Parsnip, who relied on her to
keep the peace between Laura and Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I suggest that we play some scenes from
Shakespeare plays,” said Laura, who saw herself as any one of Shakespeare’s
heroines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan was thrilled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Oh yes. Romeo and Juliette,” he cooed. “I’ve
always wanted to play Romeo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“You must be joking, Gareth lad,” he said and
guffawed. He could just see Mr Morgan in knee breeches. “We’d have to change
the competition to one for knobbly knees if you step out in tights.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Shut up, Robert,” Cleo whispered, but was rewarded
with more gleeful laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy did not want to see the meeting degraded to
a slanging match. Anyway, asking amateurs who had probably never read
Shakespeare to act in it was in her view ridiculous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“I think we’d better stick to something everyone
knows,” she advised. “Fairy tales, for example. Everyone knows fairy tales and
there are parts suitable even for…..”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“…..the knobbliest knees,” finished Laura with a
snigger and a smirk in Robert’s direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Robert laughed heartily and was rewarded with a coy
smile from Laura Finch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“That’s a very good idea,” applauded the vicar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“My knees are not knobbly,” insisted Mr Morgan. “And
if you think I’m going to stay here to be insulted, you’ve got another thing
coming!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Gareth Morgan banged several times on the table,
sprang out of his chair, sending it crashing backwards to the floor, and made
for the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Stop him, Edith!” called the vicar, and Edith
obediently leapt up and dashed after him, which was what she wanted to do
anyway. Clare looked on. She was also amused. If Edith liked being stalked by
the offensive little man, she certainly did not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Don’t go, Mr Morgan,” pleaded Edith as she ran
after the organist. “I’m sure they’ll need music now they’ve decided to do fairy
tales.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Mr Morgan allowed himself to be walked back to the
dining room. Edith had hooked her arm into his, removing it only as they entered
the room. Mr Morgan was mollified by the soft touch of Edith’s hand. He sat
down at the table vowing to pursue his newly re-inflamed preference for the
vicar’s wife. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy put on her most persuasive voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“We will need some music, after all, Mr Morgan. I
can’t play the piano all the time and look after what’s happening on the stage.
We’ll share the piano-playing so that you can do some acting, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">That seemed reasonable to Mr Morgan, who now felt
he had gone a bit over the top bragging about his thespian talents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Delilah Browne will be back from her current tour
in time to play some of the important parts,” said Cleo, glancing at Laura, who
merely snorted and told her to wait and see. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy was relieved that at least one of those on
stage would know the ropes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“That’s good news. She’s very talented,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">A scathing ‘Huh!’ was Laura’s next reaction. She perceived
herself to be in grave danger of being outshone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Delilah Browne had been the barmaid of Upper
Grumpsfield’s own village pub, the Dog and Whistle, until it closed down.
Returning to the boards, as she called them, had been an economic necessity.
But her pub tour as a cabaret comedienne and vocalist had been a great success
and been extended for many weeks. She put that success down to nostalgia for
the old days of live entertainment. The karaoke machines could not compete with
old variety songs, especially when sung by someone as unashamedly voluptuous as
Delilah Browne.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The vicar hoped that Dorothy would have everything
under control, including Delilah Browne’s aggressive sex appeal, which
disturbed him in a way he would prefer not to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy luckily had a fair idea of what was
involved after all those ballet evenings she had helped to put on over the
years. People tend to become unpredictable when they are nervous, so it would important
for someone to guide their steps, especially as the show could be reduced to farce
if Gareth Morgan and Laura got their way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Clare was anxious to get the meeting over and done
with. She was leaving for Austria next day. Cleo would do any administrative
work needed and spread the word to people who might possibly have some acting
talent. There would be a shortage of men, Dorothy thought, and wondered about
the postman and that little man who had helped out. She was ready to ask anyone
she knew to take part. The more the merrier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Gareth Morgan was of course light-years away from
ever being Prince Charming, even if he smartened himself up a bit, and Clare did
not think Jason would ever show his face again. Laura would be hard put to find
anyone to represent Lower Grumpsfield apart from herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Laura was already racking her brains. If her
village were to be part of the project at all, she would have to volunteer for several
parts. Dorothy thought that Laura would be good at acting a witch and a wicked
step-mother, but did not say so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">If Laura Finch was seeking to rehabilitated
herself, she was in for a surprise, however. Finding out that someone you know
is as awful as you first thought they were after a period of thinking you were
mistaken is a sobering experience. Dorothy was unlikely to fall for Laura’s
play-acting ever again and was determined to have as little to do with her as possible.
Her play-acting was to be strictly for the stage only. Dorothy found it
shameful that Laura had seemingly overcome her own shame and was a bumptious as
ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Dorothy could not help asking herself if the Impro
Show was going to be a success. Her spontaneous idea could turn out to be a
nightmare, she decided. Her second decision was to invite Mr Smith to do his
memorable trumpet playing clown act to liven things up. She would not tell
anyone beforehand. Laura might not approve, but the vicar would.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-37217173980973901262016-01-31T03:06:00.003-08:002017-01-19T12:17:13.457-08:0018 - Flat to let<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The only person resentful about the success of the talent
contest was Mr Cobblethwaite, who was now even more determined to take over the
talent show, mainly to enhance his own reputation, but ostensibly to finance
the renovation of the town hall.. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>The official reason would be that it was not right for the
church to profit from an event that took place on public premises. The private
one was that he had set his cap on carrying on as the mayor with all its perks
and privileges after the next local elections. What better way to ingratiate himself
with the voters than to provide them with first class entertainment and at the
same time expose the greed of the church? <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It had not been difficult for the Robert Jones to persuade the
vicar to go along with his wish to announce his engagement to crown a memorable
afternoon. Robert was sure that his unfair behaviour over Cleo’s first marriage
was now firmly in the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was now almost a national celebrity. He immediately set
about reorganizing his life. Since it would have been churlish to expect Cleo,
the woman he had almost sacrificed to his pride not so long ago, to move from
her delightful little cottage with its beautiful garden, Robert stuck a notice
saying ‘flat to let’ on the door of his shop. He was happy at Cleo’s bungalow
and sure that she was, too. Now they were an engaged couple, though Cleo had
not actually said yes to his proposal of marriage. It was normal in this day
and age for betrothed couple to live together. Not in his wildest dreams could
Robert imagine what could stop her marrying him, and Cleo gave no inkling that
she was torn between loyalty to Robert and her love for his rival.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It did not take long for someone to respond to the invitation
to view Robert’s flat and that someone was Gareth Williams, who had come to
Robert’s shop only minutes after Robert had put the offer on display.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Good evening, Mr Morgan. What can I do for you? Some nice
sausages or back bacon? Half price as it’s nearly closing time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Williams knew about the price reductions at closing
time. You could get cheap strawberries at the local supermarket at closing
time. That is why he had broken off his organ practise to go shopping. He had
already procured the strawberries. But on seeing the advert for the flat he
answered with<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I just want some streaky bacon but I’d like to move into the
flat, Mr Jones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You can have back bacon for the same price as streaky, Mr
Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Streaky is what my mother used to fry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
No arguing with that, thought Robert. Better move on to
letting the flat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I haven’t moved out yet and you haven’t even seen the flat,”
he told Mr Morgan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘It can’t be worse than where I am now, Mr Jones.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just let me lock up and I’ll show you what you’d be getting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan was enchanted by everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There’s even space for my Hammond organ,” he enthused. “My
mother sent it to me. She was always complaining about having to polish it. She
was glad to see the back of it. It’s in the kitchen at the moment, where the
washing machine would be if I had one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
No wonder his clothes usually looked unwashed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you quite sure the flat is what you’re looking for, Mr
Morgan?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was. The fitted kitchen, complete with washing machine,
would be included in the deal and Mr Morgan could wash his clothes properly in
future. Within an hour, the takeover had been finalized and Mr Morgan was
trying to persuade his new landlord to move out next day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since Cleo’s cottage was too small to hold two lots of
furniture, Robert would have to leave most of his other stuff behind, too,
which seemed to Mr Morgan like a good idea. The deal would be from one Welshman
to another, emphasized Robert. When it came to settling up, Mr Morgan found he
was more of a beneficiary than a tenant. After penny-pinching Mr Davies, his
current landlord, Mr Jones was a model of magnanimity. So much human kindness
almost moved Gareth Morgan to tears. Almost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘I’ll help you redecorate, Mr Morgan, and I’m sure Cleo will
want to help, too. We’ll get it all finished by Christmas.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I live in her cottage now, Mr Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh. That’s nice,” said the organist. “I didn’t know it was
serious.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan told him he couldn’t possibly wait till Christmas to
move in. On the other hand, even if he thought the walls were beautiful as they
were, why look a gift horse in the mouth? He would move in now and they could
renovate round him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But Mr Morgan’s dreams went far beyond just moving into a new
flat. He could see himself entertaining a string of lady friends. Not that he
had any, but he had a soft spot for several of the fair sex and hoped to make
progress very soon in his new surroundings. In view of the prospect of a
liaison with one or the other of the ladies at whom he had set his cap, he had already
started to smarten himself up. He had taken a pile of old suits and other
garments, most of which had been ordered from catalogues by his mother and were
consequently entirely unsuitable for the life he was about to lead, to the
charity shop in Middlethumpton, and bought himself a pair of jeans and a blazer
at the same shop, since they were less dated than what he was donating and
ready to wear. He had even started to take a shower nearly every morning and
now wore a masculine type fragrance on top of the pungent after-shave lotion
called ‘Magic Musk’ that he had used for as long as he could remember, and
which he promised himself to replace entirely with something less overpowering
when funds allowed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Morgan decided not to cramp his style by going to Wales
for Christmas and would warn his family not to send anything breakable through
the mail, so with any luck they would refrain from sending any flacons of Magic
Musk and stick to ties and socks. Not that he would wear the ties. These days
his preference was for an open shirt with a silk cravat. One could say that he
was going through a kind of sartorial rebirth, finally cutting the umbilical ties
to Wales, to Megan (his mother’s choice of bride for him that she still
insisted was viable), and most of all to his mother’s mail order catalogues. At
the age of forty, this was not a day too soon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If some of Gareth’s new fashion and other ideas in his head came from well-thumbed
copies of Playboy kept under the mattress even though his mother was a hundred
miles away, no matter. It was all part of his belated growing up. Gareth was
altogether delighted with the prospect of the dazzling future in store for him.
He might never return to Wales at all if it all turned out right, though quite what
it took to turn out right was still undefined in practical terms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was taken with the idea of about moving from his flat
much sooner than he had expected. Cleo agreed that it was nice to have him
around, but not quite as light-hearted about reorganizing her cottage
practically overnight so that not just one larger-than-life personage would
find room there, but two. She could still have backed out of a permanent
relationship with Robert, but she didn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was fortunate that Gloria, another space-filling personage,
was going back to the States. She had booked her return flight on that fateful
afternoon after she had spilt the beans about Cleo’s marriage and thought Cleo
would never speak to her again. Now things had turned out well she was planning
to spend at least a year in Upper Grumpsfield or Middlethumpton as soon as she
had organized things at home. She did not tell Cleo, just in case there was
opposition. To her plan<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Despite the success of the talent contest and the
publicity it had awarded Upper Grumpsfield, It was impossible to ignore the
dilapidation of St Peter’s parish church and the decline in numbers of
worshippers The parish church had definitely seen better days. You could read
about the heroic role St Peter’s played during wars and pestilences in the
church annals. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">The vicar lamented the fact that most people showed
little inclination to go anywhere short on sensation. Mr Parsnip’s felt responsible.
He wondered how he could coax people out of sports centres and clubs and into
church on Sunday mornings, without actually increasing the attraction factor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Of course, going to church does not make you a
Christian, any more than visiting a mosque makes you a Muslim,” he preached, “but
both are sacred monuments to great beliefs and if you identify with one of them
in theory, you should support its traditions in practice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">As a standard part of his sermons, this message was
really only received by people who heard it and so did not need to be encouraged.
He suggested thinking of St Peter’s as a special kind of club. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Read the literature,” he would say. ”After all,
the Bible is one of the bestsellers of all time, with the Koran probably just
as successful.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Not that Mr Parsnip was an expert on the Koran, but
he was sure that must be worth dipping into if so many people had a copy. He
wondered if anyone still thumbed through the Bible that was still part of the
fittings of many a hotel room in Britain. It was a good read, after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">All his arguments in favour of going to church and religion
made good sense to Mr Parsnip, though they were too different kettles of fish, but
most fell on deaf ears, possibly because he lacked the creative energy needed
to update his way of presenting them. He meant well, but he was out of touch. He
was the most unflappable vicar the village had seen in centuries because he
simply didn’t notice what was going on round him most of the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">Edith was not the only one who thought the vicar
was at least a hundred years too late for his true calling, that of an
itinerant preacher, a spasmodic fire and brimstone evangelist delivering the ‘heavenly
message’ then wandering off into the wilderness to meditate silently for weeks
on end before arriving at the next conurbation to repeat his mission. She had
started her own private savings fund to send her husband to Africa and the
heathens. No one knew about it. When there was enough money to buy an air
ticket, she would buy one. She was not sure if she should wait to fund a return
ticket. Her pocket money was meagre. She would have to continue to rely on charity
shops for her clothing if she was ever to get enough money saved for a ticket
to darkest Africa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">In the meanwhile, Mr Parsnip had to provide for his
family as well as he could. Edith Parsnip was in constant dread of the
evangelical instinct breaking through the way it had on the day of the recovery
of the donation box, when he had almost caught his death thanking God in the
pouring rain. She fervently hoped he would not become so evangelically
overloaded ever again. She could live with most of his other foibles, but not
with his fervour. He should reserve that for Africa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“It’s in his veins,” she had once confided in Clare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis">“Anything that’s in your veins comes out sooner or
later if not kept firmly in check,” said Clare, laughing. She would not have
swapped with Edith in a month of Sundays, though strangely enough, her own
marital situation bore certain similarities as far as the entertainment potential
of their partners was concerned. Karl von Klippen was a model of chivalry, but not
exactly a bundle of joy. Maybe it is in the veins of identical twins to look
for identical partners. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-38005301027754169002016-01-31T02:05:00.000-08:002017-01-19T11:45:26.708-08:0017 - The talent contest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After the talent contest prelims, those chosen to appear in
the actual competition had been asked to congregate in the church hall in Upper
Grumpsfield by 11 a.m. on the big day. They would draw lots for the order of
appearance, but without a guarantee that this order would be followed since two
similar acts would not perform in succession. Anyone who was not there in time
would have his starting position decided for him and should not complain about
it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Although drawing lots is, by definition, a matter of luck and
would of course have to be adjusted should the outcome be too terrible, it did
make sure that the contestants got out of bed in time. By eleven, nearly all of
them had turned up. One notable exception was Robert Jones, of course, because
he had to open his shop on Saturdays to sell people their Sunday joints. He was
a seeded contestant, like the best players in a tennis tournament, and the rest
of the programme would be arranged so that seeded contestants did not appear
one after another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura had insisted on her candidate being a seeded player,
too, promising that he would be the best, or at least one of the best. Had Dorothy
been there, questions would have been asked, but Cleo did not want to risk a
showdown, so Dorothy controlled the seating order in the old school hall while
Cleo coped with any crisis at the church hall. Drawing lots was only a
diplomatic gesture designed to avoid being accused of favouring this or that contestant.
In the end, Dorothy would vet the programme order and change anything that she
did not agree with. Mr Parsnip helped Dorothy to organize the old school hall.
They were helped, or to be more exact hindered by the unexpected arrival of the
Mayor, Mr Cobblethwaite. He rarely put in a voluntary appearance at anything
not involving his dog or food, but was curious to see how things were going. He
was jealous of the whole idea of a talent contest and determined to organize
the next one himself. It was, however, spiteful of him to hope that this one
would be a gigantic flop, considering the boost it was going to give to the
district’s cultural reputation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura had organized a piano tuner, so the hustle and bustle at
the hall was accompanied by his attempts to make the old Joanna sound more like
a Steinway and less like a honky-tonk. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
By one thirty, Cleo had accompanied the finalists on a coach
hired especially for that purpose to the old school hall in Middlethumpton.
There, they were treated to refreshments and introduced to the Mayor, Mr
Cobblethwaite. He had not provided the refreshments, but was glad to get some.
At two thirty, the doors opened and the audience rushed in to bag the best
seats. It did not take long for every seat to be taken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
At three o’clock, Mr Parsnip and Mr Cobblethwaite opened the
show. No event could start without him and he actually told the audience that
the next talent competition would be held with funds from the town hall and
entirely dedicated to renovating the ceiling of that building. It was too late
for protests from the organizers of the current show, though they were
horrified that the mayor had decided to take much of the limelight for himself
at the opening, quite apart from him stealing the idea of holding a talent competition and announcing
it publicly without even telling them. Mr Smith the trumpet-playing postman
took the stage to start the entertainment with rousing solos played at
breakneck speed to stay within the 10 minutes allotted to him. The tunes were so
excessively loud that they left everybody’s ears ringing from the onslaught. If
a prize were to be given for making the most noise, Mr Smith would surely win
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As arranged, the judges decided separately how many points
from one to ten they would give to each contestant. After every act the results
were handed to Cleo for counting. Laura had not really approved of this method,
but the others had, so she had no choice but to fall in with it. As a
precaution, Laura vowed to everyone a low mark in anticipation of giving her own
surprise contestant, who had yet to turn up, ten out of ten.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Everyone was thankful that the act after Mr Smith was a
juggler throwing noiseless spheres into the air and catching them just before
they reached the ground. Laura marvelled at his tricks with hula-hoops,
remembering the one embarrassing attempt she had made at climbing into one and
keeping it circulating. This artist, a real professional who had dishonestly
claimed to be an amateur, not only wiggled one hula-hoop round, but kept on
increasing the number until he had seven spinning around his waist, then he
even put one on his left foot and two on each arm. A miracle of coordination,
everyone agreed, and Dorothy started to wonder whether she had been wrong about
Robert Jones winning the competition hands down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
One clever act after another brought the audience frequently
to its feet and made the organizers wonder how on earth they were going to
decide on a winner without disregarding their individual votes. During the
interval they had a hasty meeting to decide what to do. They could hardly cook
the books. Cleo was not corrupt, as she stately in no certain words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Even Laura was starting to have second thoughts about who
would win. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You must wait till you’ve heard my contestant,” she declared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo reminded them that Robert was going to sing. Laura
thought an amateur singer could never compete with a professional, but
refrained from saying so. She was, however, worried that her entrant would think
better of taking part in such a lowly event. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think I can hear a car. I’ll go and see,” she fussed and
was disappointed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was Karl von Klippen, who had not been able to find anyone
at home and had made his way to the old school hall after reading the poster
advertising the show stuck on the front door of the vicarage. He wanted to
surprise Clare, so he had not told anyone he was coming. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Vell, I see you are having the talent contest,” Karl said to
Laura, who was extremely put out that this curious foreigner had arrived. Was
he a mysterious contestant, too? “Wery nice!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar joined them outside. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
”‘Yes, wery, errrrum very nice,” echoed the vicar. “Very nice
to see you again so soon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura was irate. Was the vicar sneaking in a candidate of his
own?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The three went into the hall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar stage whispered
“Any special reason for your visit, Karl?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You can discuss that later, Frederick!” hissed Dorothy. “There
are more performances to judge, remember?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Quite right! So what shall we do about all those brilliant turns
we have already enjoyed?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just keep on writing one to ten for the contestants. You’ll
have to accept the result, whatever it is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar had been giving all the contestants 10 out of 10. He
had already shed responsibility for choosing a winner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was also irritated. She was sure Robert could live up to
his reputation and was anxious for his performance to be first rate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s time to start the
second half now,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But....” whined Laura.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Laura, if your contestant doesn’t turn up, that’s just hard
luck,” said Cleo, who would have preferred it if Laura’s protégé did not arrive
in time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The next contestant took the stage, and soon the competition
was again in full swing, Word had got round that Laura had a secret weapon up
her sleeve. To her relief, the vicar was at last able to announce that a Mr
Jason Finch, nephew of Mrs Laura Finch, would sing, accompanied by Mr Morgan on
the piano.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The lights went down except for a spot aimed at centre stage,
but there was no sign of Jason.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura waited with baited breath. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Morgan played a single note on the piano and from the
back of the stage came a sung note in reply. Resplendent in ancient Greek,
Roman or was it Ethiopian dress, a young man with jet black hair and a swarthy
complexion appeared to the strains of the famous opening tenor aria from
Verdi’s Aida. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Celeste Aida,” he sang, and Laura felt a little dizzy. Jason looked
very like the captain of her cruise ship, He had been of Indian extraction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The audience was enraptured, not least because Jason looked
more like something out of a costume movie than a contestant at a local talent
contest. He brought the house down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The audience speculated about Jason’s origins. Not that it
really mattered. The main thing was that he had looked like a god and sung like
an angel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan bathed in Jason’s success, speculating that only a
Welshman could sing like that, so was Jason from the Valleys? If so, why hadn’t
Laura told him? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The only question that remained in everyone’s mind was how Robert
Jones was going to top that heroic performance. Laura didn’t think he could and
even Cleo had misgivings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When Mr Parsnip had wiped the tears from his eyes and
signalized in a gesture of blessing for the audience to be quiet just one more
time, he was ready to announce the final contestant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Hardly had he finished doing so when there was the sound of
drums in the background. Accompanied only by the rhythm, Robert appeared in a
flowing royal blue robe secretly organized by Gloria and launched into a medley
of gospels and spirituals, the like of which had never been heard in Upper
Grumpsfield before. Cleo was transfixed, and so was everyone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So Laura was not the only person with a surprise up her
sleeve. The young drummers were members of an Afro-American rhythm group who
had been busking one Saturday afternoon when Robert was in Middlethumpton, He
had dropped some coins into their hat and made a note of their phone number.
Now they were happy to play for him in his bid for the talent trophy. And what
is more, they were joined by Gloria, who might not be quite as nimble as she
had been forty years ago, but nevertheless added rhythm and temperament in her
colourful patterned cotton sarong and turban and had made ‘Bobby’ move and rock
in a way he had not thought it possible to shift his 150 kilos. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was not long before the whole audience was entering into
the spirit of things, first with rhythmical clapping to the drums and then, encouraged
by Gloria, almost everyone trooped up the rickety steps onto the stage and
joined in the act. Robert’s sonorous voice rang out with the verses and
everyone else joined in with the responses, swinging chariots and rowing boats
ashore with gusto. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The auditorium was all but empty. Even Cleo had found herself
joining in. Laura looked on in disgust. How could Robert spoil such a wonderful
afternoon by singing such common music? Jason Finch watched in horror through a
gap in the stage curtain. He never would have come had he known this amateur
upstart was going to bring the house down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy had not left her seat. She was looking on in wonder at
what was happening and wondering how Laura would take it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl von Klippen had been watching the spectacle from the back
of the hall. He wasn’t used to such exhibitions of raw animation. Had he got
the English all wrong? Clare, who had joined the audience too late to get a
seat, found herself standing next to him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I didn’t know you were coming, Karl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Zee goose is cooked,” said Karl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What goose?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Up there, on the stage.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh that. Laura’s nephew has to win, or there’ll be ructions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ructions? Who are they?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not people. Things. Hell to pay<span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">elly to payhH</span>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Radames should win, Clare,” said Karl, who had seen Aida many
times at the Vienna State Opera. ”He has sung so beautiful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He is Laura’s candidate. Some people would hate him to win.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t know Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You haven’t missed anything and you still haven’t told me why
you’re here, Karl.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Have you forgotten? It’s our wedding anniversary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh. So it is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare bit her lip. Karl had come all that way and she hadn’t even
remembered why.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ve come to tell you that you can have your divorce if you
still want it.”’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare’s heart sank.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can we talk about that some other time, Karl?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“When? I can only stay a
few days.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, perhaps....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Perhaps vat?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Perhaps it isn’t such a good idea after all. You know....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl was genuinely surprised.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Vat?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Getting a divorce.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You mean....?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t hurry me, Karl. Not today.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Okidoki. I vill hurry you tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We could have a meal at that Italian restaurant on Thumpton
Hill and talk things over.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare hesitated before admitting that she had missed him and
her words were spoken so quietly that it was all Karl could to catch them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl von Klippen was walking on air. Clare was wondering if
she was doing the right thing. She hadn’t even told Edith...That night after
the fire...Well, they’d all had a little too much to drink...and what with the
shock... <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
According to Laura, the result of the talent
contest should have been a foregone conclusion, but it wasn’t. No way could the
jury award Jason Finch first prize after Robert had brought the house down. No
way could they award Robert first prize after Jason’s exquisite singing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With uncanny foresight, the vicar announced that the
candidates had all been magnificent, but two had been exceptionally magnificent
and the audience could choose between them with a show of hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The talent contest was declared a dead heat. The hula-hoop exponent,
who had received the third most points in the official judging, was cock-a-hoop
about coming in third. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The voting slips would not see the light of day again. The
best juggler, conjurer, instrumentalist and acrobat were awarded their prizes
and certificates were awarded to everyone who didn’t get a prize. Justice had
been done. Mr Parsnip was about to declare the proceedings over when Robert
Jones stepped shyly into the spotlight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I have an announcement to make. I am going to marry the most
wonderful woman in the world if she says yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo couldn’t believe her ears. She was still waiting for official
confirmation of Jay’s death. What if it had all been a hoax and she was still
married?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Laura’s son has made me realize that there's no time like the
present,” said Robert, nodding to Jason, who gave him a little nod in return.
He and Robert Jones had cooked this up together. Laura Finch was appalled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What son? I haven’t got a son,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think it’s time to drop the pretence, don’t you, Mother?”
said Jason, ignoring his mother’s consternation. He had come to terms with his
own past, but Laura hadn’t with hers. Now she was avoiding eye contact with
anyone. She didn’t know how to hide her humiliation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, that’s a turn-up for the books!” said Dorothy. “I did
wonder about your noses.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy had been speculating about the similarity of those noses
ever since she saw them together. She was wondering how much grass would have
to grow over Laura’s past before things got back to normal. Laura was the victim
of her own deceitfulness. The walls of Jericho that she had built round herself
had come crashing down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Skeletons in cupboards
have a habit of falling out, Laura,” said Dorothy as she joined the procession
round the school hall that was led by a jubilant Robert with Cleo on his arm
and the little marching band following them. Everyone sang along to Robert’s
spirituals all the way up Thumpton Hill, through the village and to the church
hall, where refreshments were available. <b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Everyone except Jason
was there. He had thought better of prolonging his visit to the district. No
one was surprised about that.<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura Finch had fled. No
one cared about that. No one except the vicar, that is.<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Poor soul”, he was
heard to murmur several times before leaving the party. He was not quite sure
how he could save Laura’s soul, but there was no harm in trying. <b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The party had left Mr
Cobblethwaite determined to put on a talent show of his own. He would
circumvent that silly vicar and St Peter’s. The Finch woman would not be able
to stop him either. He had seriously overestimated the influence she had had on
the talent competition, and was not really surprised about the shameful
disclosure that she had been disowning her talented son all his life. He remembered her from a Caribbean cruise many
years ago. He was on his honeymoon and glad he had not had more than a passing
contact with her then, for he knew enough about her to fill a book. It’s a
small world, he decided.<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-58429463399740217512016-01-30T15:23:00.001-08:002017-01-18T12:10:07.807-08:0016 - Gloria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>“Frederick, I know you’ve had a lot of stress lately, but we
must have an urgent meeting to see how things are going,” she told him over the
phone.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The talent contest, Frederick. The talent contest!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear, I had quite forgotten, what with the fire and Karl
von Clip-on’s visit. How is it all going?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Prelims?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The preliminary rounds, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But we must have the meeting this Sunday.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“All right,” Mr Parsnip agreed reluctantly. “You tell Laura and Mr Hartley and I’ll tell Mr Morgan.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘Oh sure, Mr Parsnip. You just don’t worry your head about me.
I’m fine, just fine.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We can’t go on like this,” he agonized. “The whole idea is a
gigantic mistake and must be corrected forthwith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was not convinced. Laura hastened to reassure him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed. “I thought Cleo Hartley lived here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She does.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘I’m Gloria. Cleo’s mom! And who are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gloria pushed past Robert and made her way into the
living-room. It was almost as she remembered it from nearly forty years ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Cleo’s...friend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Lover?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Robert Jones, at your service!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What a cute name, Bobby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
No one had ever called him cute or Bobby before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She was still at college when he died. She would never have
come here if her marriage hadn’t been on the rocks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert looked at Gloria in horror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh my, oh my, oh my!” Gloria said. “Shouldn’t I have told you
that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m a widower,” he said. “My wife died in New Zealand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What was she doing there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Her father sent her there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why, that’s the reason she left the States. A broken
marriage, Bobby. You should be happy about that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert dropped his door-key onto the dining table. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll leave this with you. I won’t need it again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
An hour later, Cleopatra Hartley let herself into her cottage.
Her shock at finding her mother there instead of Robert Jones was enormous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mother! What are you doing here? Where’s Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s not much of a welcome after all this time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did you expect me to fling my arms around you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, no. But I thought it was time to bury the hatchet after
...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I meant well, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t tell me that. You were interfering. It has taken me
until now to recover from the nightmare I went through.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It needn’t have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But now you’ve met a nice man. I’m sure he isn’t a
wife-beater.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Where is he? What did you say to him, Mother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“To Bobby?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was aghast to hear her mother calling Robert by a nickname.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What did you tell him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all. He just had to leave.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I suppose you want to stay the night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, it’s too late to go anywhere else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Would you like something to eat? We... That is I usually have
supper around now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Jay went to prison again,” Gloria announced without any
preamble. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So what! Do you expect
me to cry, Mother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“In the end no one else did, either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What do you mean by that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I heard he had died there,” said Gloria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Then the nightmare is over at last, isn’t it? I have a new life
here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert greeted her with a brief nod. Her heart sank. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You met my mother last night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, what did you think of her?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert looked past Cleo and said nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What about you and me? What about him, Cleo?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t know who you mean, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I mean the man you are
married to, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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 ...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You want me to believe that? All right, I believe it. Now go
away and leave me alone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s all over, Cleo. Over and done with.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The tension did not escape Dorothy’s notice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Nice day, Robert.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert managed to squeeze out a muffled “Good morning, Miss
Price.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Aren’t you feeling well, Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Never felt better. What did you say you wanted?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
His voice was flat and tuneless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Enough topside for a small casserole, Robert, if that’s not
too much trouble.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. She was genuinely
concerned. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He did not look up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Anything else, Miss Price?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Dorothy. Remember? Three rashers of bacon and some of your
nice chipolatas, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The chipolatas aren’t homemade.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s all right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert attended morosely to the order. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy felt she had to say something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How is Cleo? She left in a hurry without saying goodbye. Did
I interrupt something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert shrugged his shoulders and kept his head down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t think Cleo is into subterfuge, Robert. Maybe she’s a
widow. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert finally looked at Dorothy and she was distressed to see
the tracks of tears on his cheeks. He was deeply hurt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There’s nothing you can do, Dorothy. But thank you, all the
same. I’m just glad I found out before I...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Before you popped the question, Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why did you have to come here? You have ruined my life all
over again!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t understand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You told Robert that I was married.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Because I didn’t want to spoil things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I think it’s just as well he knows. And after all, you
are a widow now, aren’t you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But I did not know that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So were you going to commit bigamy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why should I? Did he show me any? I would have told Robert
after the divorce had gone through.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That sounds like a stupid idea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But it’s all the same now, anyhow. He told me we’re all
washed up and I know he meant it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t believe that. Men have their pride, Cleo. I’ll
straighten things out for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was just closing for lunch when Gloria marched in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d like a word with you, Bobby.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think you’ve said enough already, but thanks for putting me
in the picture.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You don’t have all the facts. I’m really sorry that I said what
I did. If I’d known…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I’m not. Cleo fooled me into thinking that
she......well liked me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Cleo loves you, Bobby, and she’s going through hell right
now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So am I. I’ve never been so disappointed in anyone in my
whole life.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But why? Surely you didn’t think a woman of thirty-eight
would have no past?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, but she should have told me she was married.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And now you do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But she should have told me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“OK, I agree on that. I expect you’ve told her everything
about your life, especially the bad things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No I haven’t. There are things she does not need to know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So there you are. Are the rules different for you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I hope you will find a way to repair the damage, Robert. The
ball is in your court now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With those words Gloria left the shop and went for a walk
across the common to clear her head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, it’s you,” she said with feigned indifference. “What do
you want?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
She turned to go back in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Wait a minute! I’ve come to say sorry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Sorry?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got it all wrong.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. You got it all right, Robert. I was married in the USA
and I should have told you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I have no right to expect you to tell me anything you don’t
want to, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But if you want to discuss the situation, you’d better come
in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You won’t want this now, but I’ve no one else to give it to,”
he said tonelessly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You would?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I would.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert’s heart leapt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo’s mouth twitched. Robert was having trouble expressing
himself. Lover’s block, she thought. She would have to say something drastic. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you planning to ask me, or shall we sing Auld Lang’s
Syne?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Would you want me after my disgraceful behaviour?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Would you want me after all my secrecy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
They looked long and hard at each other and a simultaneous ’yes’
came over their lips. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The anxious faces of Dorothy and the vicar came into view. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I wasn’t expecting you, Dorothy,” said Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, this morning I could see you had a problem and we’re
here to help you get over it, Cleo.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar nodded wisely. He had been nervous about interfering,
but seeing as Dorothy was managing the situation well, he would support her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo could barely disguise her emotions. These good people
were genuinely concerned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s real kind of you. Come in!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The problem’s solved, Dorothy. You can be the first to
congratulate us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“My dear chap – and dear lady – I am delighted.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So am I. So are we.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If anyone had tried to predict that turn of events twelve
hours previously, Gloria would have declared them nuts.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-4695305581297560662016-01-30T14:22:00.002-08:002017-01-18T11:17:32.008-08:0015 - Trothplighting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After the committee meeting at which she had appeared out of
the blue, Mr Morgan had started courting Clare von Klippen, though she did not
know it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Hearing that Clare was working at the library, he had skipped
his organ practice and gone there. He was so conspicuous that Cleo almost asked
him if he had a special reason for sitting diagonally opposite the counter,
ostensibly reading a book while his beady eyes followed Clare’s every move. His
antics were quite obvious to everyone and Cleo found them very amusing. She
wondered if he thought it was Edith. He came every day and Cleo did not think
he had his sights set on her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>To cover up is true mission Gareth Morgan browsed through the
new book additions on a conveniently close shelf and eventually chose an
entirely incongruous book to borrow before leaving his quest for next day. He
wanted to ask Clare for a date, but had not yet thought of way of phrasing it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But Gareth Morgan was persistent. He could not think of a
reason for not going back next day, this time on the pretext of returning the
unsuitable book. The pattern was set. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When he turned up for the umpteenth time, curiosity got the
better of Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ve just come to exchange this book, Miss Hartley,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Now, now, Mr Morgan. You don’t really expect me to believe that,
do you? You only borrowed it yesterday. You can’t have finished it already.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s too technical. I didn’t understand a word.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I did not think you would understand a book on knitting, Mr
Morgan. You should not have taken it home in the first place. Could it be that
you have taken a fancy to my assistant?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan looked guilty and started to stammer. He rubbed his
sticky hands together nervously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What makes you think that, Miss Hartley?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan had been hoping to brazen it out, but he was getting
red in the face and his hands were now as slimy as kippers, reactions
admittedly induced at least in part by clandestine gulps of vodka from the
pocket flask he had brought along to get him through the morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can I give you a friendly tip, Mr Morgan?” said Cleo, after
watching this bundle of nerves almost melting before her very eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan looked at his finger-nails, which were chewed down even
further than usual. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back. He thought Cleo
must have read his mind. Interfering busybody.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t you just ask her to go for a coffee with you? She
can only say no, can’t she?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And that’s exactly what Mr Morgan wanted to avoid. As long as
he had not received a downright refusal, he could go on dreaming. But what did
he, a humble Welsh organist of rather squat stature and limited means, have to
offer such a lovely English lady as Clare von Klippen?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo deliberately misinterpreted the look of desperation on
his face. She did something totally unexpected to Mr Morgan, who was already
quaking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Hey,Clare! Come here for a moment, will you?” Cleo called
out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Now Clare would come near enough to see the little pearls of
sweat gathering on his brow. Mr Morgan wished the floor would swallow him
instantly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, Cleo? What is it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Giving Mr Morgan a little warning nudge, Cleo announced: “Mr
Morgan wants me to go for a coffee, but I can’t take the time. Would you like
to go instead?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan gasped.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, why not?” came Clare’s reply, to Gareth Morgan’s acute
consternation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare thought she was rescuing Cleo from a fate worse than
death. She knew exactly how to deal with men like Mr Morgan so that they did
not try it on a second time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s settled, then,” concluded Cleo with a wicked smile on
her face. “I have to go to the printers to order posters for the talent
contest, but Clare will be here until one, Mr Morgan. Why don’t you sit and
read a newspaper until then?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Now he was committed, Mr Morgan had no choice but to go with
the flow. Soon after one o’clock he escorted Clare down the street to the
corner café, walking on the building side and letting Clare walk on the less
protected street side. Mr Morgan was full of trepidation and really did need
protection now he had been blessed with the chance to get nearer to the object
of his infatuation. His pocket flask had been empty for the past hour. Its
contents had possibly not been quite enough to give him the confidence to
master the situation in which he now found himself. Curse meddling women like
Cleo Hartley though on the other hand, she had been generous enough to arrange
this tryst. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There could not be a greater contrast between the Cleo’s surprise
dinner with Robert Jones and the date she had stage-managed for Mr Morgan. Seated
at the corner table in that scruffy café, Clare felt claustrophobic in the
company of such a vain little man who was quite obviously at pains to impress
her, though his method defied all logic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare soon realized that Cleo must have known all along that
Mr Morgan was stalking her and she could have kicked herself for falling for
the ruse. Mr Morgan was unaware of Clare’s desire to escape. He fetched two
small cups of nasty coffee from the self-service and sat down on the chair
right next to her, dragging it even closer and leering from ear to ear. His
clandestinely imbibed vodka was hitting the spot square on in the smoky warmth
of the café. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Apart from thanking Mr Morgan for the coffee, which was
undrinkable, Clare said nothing at all. She didn’t need to. Mr Morgan droned on
and on about the lady friends he had had, or not had, to be more precise,
including Megan, the ungrateful Welsh grocer’s daughter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
For good measure he told Clare all about his mother and even talked
about Laura Finch’s chorus ladies in flattering terms. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Despite his animated raconteuring, it was quite clear to Clare
that the little man’s life was strewn with unsatisfactory relationships and she
hated to think that she might be added to the list of what he probably counted
as conquests to be retold at the next opportunity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There is also no doubt that even had Clare had the slightest
interest in cultivating a relationship with Mr Morgan, his monologue would have
put her off for good, as it had probably repelled all the others before her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare thought Mr Morgan’s mother had been right when she told
him he was a disappointment. He assured Clare that he had always tried to do
what his mother wanted, but it had never been good enough. She was evidently an
ebullient character who enjoyed making people squirm. Cleo gathered that Mrs
Morgan was the curse of the local Mother’s Union, a constant irritation in
chapel affairs, and had been the bane of Mr Morgan Senior’s existence, so much
so that he had gone down the road to the cigarette machine one night and never
been seen since, leaving his son even more at his mother’s mercy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Coming to Upper Grumpsfield had been a desperate bid to get
away from the matriarchal figure. Even England was better than life in single
combat with her. Here he could have a lady friend without her being held up for
scrutiny and eligibility. The way was clear for romance, he told Clare. He was far
from sober. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare had no sympathy for Gareth Morgan’s plight. She stood up
and asked to be let out so that she could go to the ladies room. Mr Morgan
waited in vain for her to return. She had snatched her jacket from the clothes
rack and made for the exit, run back up the road to her car and driven off
before he noticed she had gone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Relieved as she was to escape Mr Morgan’s clutches, Clare
would nevertheless have taken more time over the drive back to the vicarage had
she known that Karl von Klippen was there. As it was, she cut two minutes off
her time from Middlethumpton and turned into the vicarage drive in a good mood that
was immediately shattered by the sight of Karl’s car parked in her space. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl drove an average French family saloon that was washed and
polished faithfully every Saturday and
still looked immaculate after driving across half Europe. What the hell does he
want here, went through Clare’s mind as she drove round the side of the house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith saw Clare’s car through the kitchen window and hastened
to the door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Guess who’s here!” she exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t need to guess. We don’t know anyone else with an
Austrian number plate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, silly me. Of course. The car!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I really thought he’d given up at last.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, he hasn’t. He looked for you at the school and when he
heard you had left he got straight back into his car and drove here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tell him I’ve left the country.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t do that. It’s dishonest!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who cares? He’s the last person I want to see. I had enough
trouble ditching that half soaked little organist just now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mr Morgan?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Cleo tricked me into going for a coffee with him. He is
simply awful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I feel a bit sorry for him. He’s such a good organist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That doesn’t make him the ladies’ man he thinks he is.
Disgusting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith could hardly believe her ears. She had thought his heart
beat faster for her and had been willing to share him with her sister. He had
betrayed her by going after Clare. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare. Don’t be so heartless.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Talking of heartless, did Karl say how long he’s planning to
hang around?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. I don’t think he’ll stay long and this time I don’t think
he expects you to go back with him. He just wants to be friends.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Friends?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes. After all, he came a long way to see you. You can’t
expect him to go back home without visiting us as well. We’re family.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh yes I can. Last time I told him quite clearly that he was
to leave me alone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But that’s years ago. Can’t you just be friendly for a day or
two?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare helped herself to some coffee. She couldn’t decide which
was worse: a date with Gareth Morgan or a reunion with Karl von Klippen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Anyway, why are you so late?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I told you. Cleo wangled me a date with that Welsh troglodyte.
I thought I’d never get away. I’d still be there if I hadn’t left him sitting in
that foul coffee bar and made a dash for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear! And I thought he was an asset to us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith had turned away, but Clare could not help noticing a
note of nostalgia in her voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Hey, Edith! I’m surprised at you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Have you got a thing about that organist?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Certainly not. I...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith was a trifle too anxious to deny a liking for him. She
found herself owning up to listening secretly to Mr Morgan’s organ-playing. She
even told Clare about the donation box. Up to now, she hadn’t told a soul. The
incident was still weighing heavily on her mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And Frederick didn’t guess who did it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. Don’t talk so loud. He thinks getting it back was a
miracle.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare laughed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Typical,” she said. “And Cleo didn’t guess the truth,
either?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If she had guessed, she had at kept the knowledge to herself
and Edith was not going to stir things up by asking her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Cleo? What would she have to do with it?” Clare asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Cleo is rather good at finding things out. Freddie hired her
to solve the mystery, but I was able to replace the box before the real
sleuthing could begin. And since Cleo is not a regular churchgoer she didn’t
hear Freddie preaching about the ‘miracle’. I didn’t hear it either, actually.
I couldn’t have stood it, under the circumstances. But I heard about it later
from people who thought it was marvellous.”’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I suppose he got carried away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Before that he had got drenched praising God and the angels in
the pouring rain, shouting it’s a miracle. He could have caught his death.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The sisters had been so engrossed in their conversation that
they hadn’t heard Karl enter the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who got carried avay?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare and Karl did not greet each other the way long lost
relatives or partners do. Karl would have liked to, but Clare made sure there was
enough distance between them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You look wery vell, Clare!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Thanks. You have bruised forehead, Karl. What do you want
here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Zat is not a good velcome to give me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s all you’re going to get. Why do you keep turning up in
my life?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I am not turning up. It is....let me see... nearly three years
since I visited the school.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Is it? How time flies when you’re having fun.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And now you are not at the school anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. Something happened last week that made me leave.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And you are living here now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Only until I find somewhere. I got a job at the library.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ach. Zee library.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith wondered how Clare had stood life with Karl for as long
as she had. Two years was it? Now she was giving Karl absolutely no
encouragement, but he didn’t seem to need any. He was battling on like a
long-distance runner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll make some fresh coffee,” Edith offered. “It’s time Frederick
stopped working.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If Edith suspected that the vicar was taking an elongated nap,
she wasn’t telling. Mr Parsnip lived in a world of his own most of the time and
it was probably just as well. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah, yes. Freddie-old-man! We had the chat in his office. Nice
man. Very nice man. About the bicycle and lead on the roof. Before my head got
the shooting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He hasn’t changed a bit, Clare thought. His English is still atrocious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What are you talking about, Karl?,” said Clare. “You’ve
forgotten all your grammar. What’s all this about a shooting?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Albert shot Karl between the eyes with a suction arrow,” explained
Edith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Zat is the bruise. You can see the red.” Karl offered his
forehead for closer inspection.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t see anything much except a bit of redness,” retorted
Clare. She was not going to pander to Karl. “Typical of a man to make a fuss about
nothing.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who is making a fuss about nothing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip had now joined the fray. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did you have a nice nap, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I had a dream.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tell us about it!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare was glad Frederick had come in. Now she would probably
escape further attention from Karl for the time being.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Frederick reported having dreamt about being Robin Hood, or to
be more exact, Friar Tuck, and being woken by someone shouting ‘Help! I am
shot!’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That was me,” confessed Karl. “I am shot. And here is the
arrow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl handed over the red plastic arrow with its
disproportionately large suction pad for the vicar’s inspection. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But isn’t that...?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith felt the need to intercede.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Yes it is. But they didn’t mean to do it, I’m sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I opened the window to get the fresh air in and zimsalabim...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll have a serious talk with the boys,” promised the vicar,
as usual totally overestimating his power of authority. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s nearly dinner-time now,” Edith chipped in. “If you want
to eat it while it’s hot you’d better get out of my kitchen while I finish off
the cooking and leave the serious talking for later. Clare, please lay the
table in the dining-room and Frederick, you can entertain Karl!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith sounded quite bossy for a change. Even Mr Parsnip was impressed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare acquiesced, relieved that Frederick and Karl seemed to
be getting along quite well together. At least she wouldn’t have to entertain Karl,
and with any luck he would leave in a day or two. She thought she would survive
by simply not being there any more often than necessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl von Klippen wondered if it really was the end of the road
for his marriage to Clare. He was getting tired of making an effort to revive
it. But it was pointless trying to get Mr Parsnip to advise him. As soon as
they were out of earshot, Frederick started to tell Karl that he wanted to go
to Africa to save souls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Freddie-old-man, you have such nice children and a nice wife.
You can’t go away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I will one day,” said the vicar looking into the distance as
if he could already see pagans waiting to be converted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was not much Karl could say to that in his scanty
English, so he made no further comment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Sometimes things run smoothly and sometimes they don’t.
Sometimes one can predict the outcome of an event or a situation, sometimes one
can’t. If anyone had told Mr Parsnip what was in store for him that night, he
would have wrung his hands in dismay. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dinner passed peacefully enough. The boys were quite well
behaved, Clare and Karl did not argue, Edith’s cooking was much better than her
normal fantasy-free level of achievement and Mr Parsnip felt so good about his sermon
that he did not even mention the suction arrow. After the boys had gone to bed,
coffee and brandy were served in the sitting room and the last hour of the day passed
pleasantly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare eventually broke up this family idyll. She simply had to
get some sleep after a tiresome day. Karl made a move to accompany her, but
Clare put a swift end to any inopportune behaviour and Karl accepted the fact
that it really was a bit of a tall order to expect Clare to be nice to him
simply because he was there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was puzzled by the situation, since reunions were
not normally accompanied by thanklessness. Edith jumped up and joined Clare as
she left the room, as if to make sure she got to her room without incident. The
two men were left to brood over their brandy and their choice of spouses. At
eleven, the lights went off in the lower floor and all was quiet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare woke out of a light sleep to a faint sound that could
have been something small and furry scurrying around in the rafters. She got
out of bed and went to the window. There was a faint red glow coming from the
direction of the wine cellar and reflecting through a tiny window onto the path
outside, shedding a narrow shaft of light onto the pebbles. Clare realized to
her horror that the noise was not mice, but the crackling of flames. She shot
out of her room screaming ‘Fire!’ as loudly as she could. Karl, who was also
having difficulty sleeping on a day bed that was too short and seemed to have
more metal frame than mattress, was the first to react. In no time, he had
woken everyone and assembled them outside on the vicarage lawn, wrapped in
blankets and shivering from the shock of being thrown out of their warm beds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare rang the fire brigade on her mobile phone. Within minutes,
the fire brigade roared up the vicarage drive and a fire crew set about getting
the flames under control. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’re lucky it’s an old house,” the chief fireman commented.
“Those wine cellars are built into the earth and quite well insulated.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip, who was more hysterical than anyone else, ran back
and forth lamenting the imminent loss of house and home. The five boys were unaware
of the seriousness of the situation and enjoying the impromptu moonlit adventure.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Thanks to the prompt action, it didn’t take long to quench the
flames. What had started as a dramatic incident was ending as a damp squib. The
vicarage was saved from major damage. The old wooden wine racks had taken a
long time to ignite and the foam from the hosepipe had quickly stopped the
flames spreading. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So what had caused the fire?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I’d say it was a short circuit,” the chief fireman
announced on his return from a detailed inspection of the damage. “Sparks
spread to some old potato sacks and set them on fire. Another couple of hours
and the wine racks would have gone up in smoke, turning this place into an
inferno. No danger of that now, but you’ll have to go without electricity for a
bit. The fuse box has melted and I’ve had to turn the power off at the mains.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
What the fire chief did not say was that new houses had new
wiring, so the chances of them going up in smoke were not as close at hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear, how can I get the breakfast made?” wailed Edith. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“As soon as the insurance has inspected the damage, you can
get it all repaired and Bob’s your uncle. Thank your lucky stars that someone
noticed the fire before it had time to spread,” the chief fireman told them. He
was himself relieved that the fire had been caught in time. No knowing what
dangers his men would have been exposed to if they had had to quench fire on
the upper floor. Those old buildings had far too much straw and wood in their
construction for his liking. The floorboards would have crashed in and who
knows how it would all have ended.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, thank you, Clare.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was feeling quite emotional now the worst was over.
“What would we have done without you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar was sure that he would never see Clare in the same
light again. Providence alias God had brought her there. He would invite her to
stay for as long as she liked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The boys had enjoyed the drama.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Burnt at the stake,” chanted Albert, who was learning all
about Joan of Arc in the history lessons.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Baked in our beds,” added Bertram, whose history lessons were
deeply involved with Alfred and the cakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After all the excitement, a cup of tea would have been nice,
but since there was no power to boil the kettle, the grownups settled for more brandy
and the boys were allowed the cans of coke normally reserved for special
occasions. Then, armed with torches, they were sent back to bed. The grownups
sat in front of a hastily lit fire – in the grate this time – until they were
calm enough to go back to bed. It was a night to remember, one way or another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Next morning, Mr Parsnip started on a brand new sermon for the
following Sunday. Having had a lucky escape from the flames, he saw it as his
duty to point out the folly of taking everything for granted. Clare had up to
now been an unwelcome guest, but thanks to her prompt action she had achieved a
new status for the vicar. He was torn between the sermon themes of live and let
live and loving one’s neighbour. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Loving one’s sister-in-law was quite a new slant on things, so
it took a whole morning of serious meditation to get it all straightened out in
his mind, whereby the question “What if...?” cropped up so often that Mr
Parsnip wondered why he had never asked it before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
News of the vicarage fire spread like wildfire. The result was
a steady stream of parishioners wanting to view the damage. Someone must have
phoned the press, because it wasn’t long before a photographer turned up to
take photos of every nook and cranny. Bernie Browne, editor of the Gazette,
came himself and asked a lot of questions. In the absence of really dramatic
damage to the vicarage and its residents, and admittedly hoping to redirect to
himself some of the focus on Clare’s role in the narrow escape they had all had,
Mr Parsnip persuaded the reporter to write about the miracle of the donation
box as well. That was, Bernie Browne remarked, food for the Gods.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Though sceptical about paranormal mythology, the vicar was
attaching mystical elements to his interpretation of the incident. Bernie let
the vicar tell him every last detail long after the journalist from one of the
national dailies had left. Genuine eccentrics were few and far between these
days. Better make the most of it, Bernie decided. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Fortunately, Edith did not hear any of the twaddle the vicar
was spouting. A shrewder reporter than Bernie Browne would have immediately
cottoned on to her role in the donation box incident, even if the idea of a vicar’s
wife helping herself to charitable donations seemed more than a little
far-fetched.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Next day, Karl von Klippen was still shaken from the ordeal,
much of which had taken place in his head and not until the immediate danger
had passed. He was also asking himself ‘What if...?’ and getting a horrific reply.
The notion of being burnt to a frazzle in his bed and never seeing his beloved
Austria again was at least as shocking as the realization that but for Clare,
that might have been the fate of them all. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare went to her job at the library as usual, thankful to
escape the chaos and wanting to give herself time to think about her unexpectedly
mixed feelings about Karl. Her account of the previous night’s events at the vicarage
left Cleo almost, but not quite speechless. Clare dropped broad hints about
being impulsive and was it a good idea. Cleo found herself exhorting her to go
ahead with whatever it was, having only a vague idea of what this Austrian guy
was like, but rightly assuming that he was the immediate cause of Clare’s inner
conflict. Clare, feeling she had already said too much, diverted the
conversation to Edith’s dilemma of not being able to feed the boys hot food.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll cook something for everyone and bring it along at supper
time,” Cleo offered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There are nine of us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just leave it to me,” said Cleo. “I could even have a go at
toad in the hole.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare’s instructions on how to create a toad in the hole to
Edith’s specifications and a quick phone call to Robert Jones produced the
necessary ingredients and Cleo marvelled at how easy to make and tasty such a
basic dish could be. And not a toad in sight, she could tell her friends back
home who might take the title of the dish literally. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
By the time the electricity had been restored temporarily with
a cable from the road, just about everyone in the village had put in an
appearance at the vicarage and Mr Parsnip’s list of sermons to write and people
to thank for their concern, promises of donations and offers of help to get
everything straightened out was getting longer and longer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo made good her offer to cook for everyone for a couple of
days with generous meaty donations and cooking aid from Robert Jones’s shop.
After the hungry had been suitably impressed with the toad in the hole on that
first evening, it was followed up by huge spreads of Kentucky fried chicken,
giant sized porterhouse steaks and other traditional dishes from across the
pond. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The boys wanted to know if they could always have Cleo’s
cooking from now on. Edith was understandably worried that they might no longer
be satisfied with her culinary skills, which, though practical and nourishing, could
not compete with Cleo and Robert’s massive spreads of delicious food.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Relations between Clare and Karl had changed literally over
night, but Karl could not arrange to stay for more than a day or two longer. Clare
was a bit put out that despite their impromptu reconciliation he made no serious
attempt to woo her back to Austria. By the time he had packed his belongings,
clambered into his freshly polished car and left for home, she was bereft, an
emotion she had never felt before. Later, she even admitted to Edith that she missed
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The incident at the school had had a sobering effect on Clare.
She had finally grown up. In comparison with Mr Morgan, whom she would in any
case avoid like the plague, Karl was now acknowledged to be a candidate for Mr
Right. Mr Morgan, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Clare had stood him up,
frequented the library almost daily in the hope that she would again take pity
on him. Clare started to wear her wedding ring and frequently referred to Karl
as ‘my husband’ with heavy emphasis. Finally, in a desperate attempt to
convince Mr Morgen that he was barking up the wrong tree, Clare told him that
she was planning a trip to Austria in the near future. After that, Mr Morgan
gave much consideration to the idea that Edith might conceivably be the more
desirable of the sisters and stopped attending the library on a regular basis.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Fortunately for Clare, the forthcoming talent contest was
keeping Laura Finch busy. That meant that Mr Morgan also had to attend extra
rehearsals, thus narrowing his scope for stalking outside library opening times.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-57214597213557749512016-01-30T13:08:00.002-08:002017-01-17T23:40:43.648-08:0014 - Unexpected<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was as if Karl von Klippen had smelled a rat. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
No one had set eyes on him for years, but the week Clare
started working at Middlethumpton library was also the week he decided it was
time to make another effort at persuading her to return to the respectable life
she had left a decade or so ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
On discovering that Clare was no longer at the school, Karl drove
to Upper Grumpsfield, hoping to find her there. He arrived just in time for elevenses
with Edith, except that in his panic to find Clare he could have sworn it was
her only pretending to be Edith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Much to Edith’s annoyance, he immediately bombarded her with a
tale of woe so tedious and devoid of syntax that Edith was again reminded of
those days in Austria when she had pleaded with Clare to think again about
tying herself to such a monumental bore. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I am Edith, you know, Karl. You should not be telling me all
this,” she said, when she could get a word in edgeways.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl von Klippen was mortified that he had been unable to
discern that Edith was not Clare. She had pointed it out very belatedly, he
thought. A punishment to suit the crime of mistaken identity. Not exactly
British fair play.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Far from being annoyed at Karl’s reappearance, Mr Parsnip welcomed
him as a long lost friend. His ulterior motive soon became clear. He needed a test
listener to his deadly sin of the week sermon, which was all about sloth. He
invited Karl into his study and commanded Edith to bring morning coffee and some
of the crumbly biscuits he had enjoyed the previous day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Sloth, Mr Parsnip was presently telling his captive audience,
affects us all. Avoiding the washing up (which the vicar usually did) is
slothful. Refusing to do the garden (which he invariably did) is slothful. In
fact, he could think of a number of things he himself tried to avoid that would
qualify him for that attribute. He had devised a little survey to test other people
for their slothfulness, hoping they would prove even more slothful than he was
as it would ameliorate his own sinfulness. He did not tell Karl that, but he
would practise his questionnaire on his brother-in-law. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you avoid exercise?” Mr Parsnip asked him without
forewarning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Vat do you mean? The exercise?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It’s wasn’t just that Karl didn’t fully understand the
question. Since he wasn’t aware that he was participating in a survey, he was
startled to be asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Riding a bicycle, or jogging.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ach, zat is vat you mean.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl thought carefully before continuing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Vell, in Alps there is too many mountains for a riding wheel,”
Karl told the vicar, who winced at the bad grammar and curious definition Karl
had used.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Riding wheel?” he asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Fahrrad,” said Karl “Fahrendes Rad, riding wheel,” he
explained. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh yes, of course,” said Mr Parsnip, whose smattering of school
German did not serve him very well. “Bi-cycle,” he explained. “Two wheels.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Quite apart from shortcomings in vocabulary, a complaint that
did not only affect foreigners, Mr Parsnip was always going on about bad
grammar to the boys and now here was a grown-up guilty of it. He hoped the boys
wouldn’t notice. He could hardly correct a foreign guest without appearing ill-mannered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah yes. The Alps.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And zee jogging is not good there, too, not good at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But you can go climbing in the mountains, and that is good
exercise, Mr von Klippen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip could not remember if they were on first name
terms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You can call me Karl for zat is my name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Climbers are not slothful, Karl.” Mr Parsnip went on, taking up
Karl’s offer with relief because the surname was a bit of a mouthful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah, but zee how do you call him civil servant must not do a
dangerous thing. How do we say? Zee sport is zee murder. Makes you dead.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And that seemed to be the end of that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip gave that idea some of his attention before
continuing with his survey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do you dig the garden, Karl?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip felt the need to persevere, though communication
was rather frustrating.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I not have a garden, Freddie, my old man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The over-familiar way Karl had now addressed him was not at
all to Mr Parsnip’s liking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We not have zee gardens in my street. We have zee balcons.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Zee Balcons?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, yes. Outside, upstairs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah. I see. You mean balconies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, yes. Zee balcons.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Fortunately for Mr Parsnip’s blood pressure, Edith came in at
that moment bearing a tray of coffee and the biscuits. Unfortunately for mutual
understanding, Edith caught Karl’s last utterance and immediately jumped to
conclusions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Have you been visiting the Balkans, Karl? How exciting. You
must tell me all about it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Vell, I...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not now, Edith.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Tell me at lunch, Karl. I’ll look forward to that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Puzzled by the idea that his balcony could be of interest to
anyone but himself, Karl accepted Freddie-old-man’s invitation to inspect St
Peter’s and be shown where the lead had gone from the roof. They returned to a
pile of open sandwiches and some soup for lunch, washed down with several glasses
of cider. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The cider went straight to Mr Parsnip’s legs and Karl found
the beverage he fondly believed to be pure apple juice extremely intoxicating. Mr
Parsnip wondered how he could escape from his role as host to take a nap before
the boys came home from school, but he needn’t have worried.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When Edith showed Karl to the guest room, which had been re-organized
quickly and robbed Edith of her utility room, her last sanctuary in times of
extreme stress, he declared in blurred tones that he was tired and would have ‘zee
rest’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The rest of what?” inquired Edith, thinking Karl had had
enough cider for one day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span lang="DE">„Zee rest. Zee
siesta. Zee 50 winks.“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith liked Karl’s quaint Austro-English, but she didn’t
admire it as much as she admired Cleo Hartley’s American twang, so she
fortunately did not try to emulate it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, yes, I understand, Karl,” she drawled Chicago style, much
to his and her surprise. “You go ahead and have your 50 winks and I’ll get on
with the dinner. We don’t want to go hungry tonight, do we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
What a good job the old vicarage had so many nooks and
crannies. Clare was sleeping in the spare room at the back of the house and
Edith had a niggling feeling that things might get more difficult when the
estranged couple were confronted with one another. But the utility room usually
kept free for improvised over-night stays and Edith’s forays into the world of
sewing and other handicrafts was at the front, so there was a certain amount of
strategic distance between the estranged couple. Not that Edith would stand in
the way of a reconciliation. Anything was better than the current state of
affairs with Clara homeless and being admired by Mr Morgan..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
At three fifteen the three younger boys, Cecil, Daniel and
Edmond arrived home from the village school, dumped their satchels on the
kitchen floor, gulped down some orange juice, grabbed their football and went
out on the front lawn for a kick-around. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Shortly after four Albert and Bertram got off the school bus
that had delivered them home from Middlethumpton Comprehensive and dashed
upstairs to get their favourite toy, a bow and arrows. With admirable aforethought,
it had been decided to go for the kind of arrows with suckers rather than
points. No need to invite a catastrophe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
On bad days, the boys stayed inside and practised shooting at
the bedroom door. On good days they went outside and used the front door as a
target. Windows were out of bounds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Of course, Albert did not know that someone had moved into the
utility room. The window was wide open and Bertram bet that he could shoot his
arrow straight through it. The main thing was that there was no glass to break.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As Albert was taking careful aim, Karl was approaching the
window to get a breath of fresh air. It is hard to say who was more startled.
Karl, for getting the arrow stuck firmly onto his brow or the boy for shooting at
a total stranger who happened to appear at the window.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since Albert had moistened its sucker with spit, the arrow refused
to be prized painlessly from its target. Albert was still looking up at the
window aghast when Karl stepped out of the front door shouting “Vat is it zat
you do to me, boy?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Bertram felt terrible about getting Albert to shoot through the
open window. The two boys pushed past Karl into the house and up the stairs.
They had a fair idea of what the consequences of their escapade would be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The three younger boys abandoned their football game to gasp
at Karl’s arrowed forehead. They didn’t know who he was, either, but even if
they had known, it would not have made any difference. Shooting arrows – even
ones without points - at people was not allowed. They ran after their brothers.
At moments like this, they were all in it together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith was busy cooking a monster beef casserole and a
king-size rice pudding. The little boys were sent to get a packet of biscuits
secretly from one of the low kitchen cupboards. Edith heard them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Have you washed your hands?” she said and the little boys, who
were keeping faithfully to their vow of all for one and one for all, dived back
up the stairs to the safety of their room. Edith was still shaking her head in
wonderment at the unusual show of obedience when Karl swept into the kitchen,
the arrow still firmly stuck to his brow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I have been attacked by an arrow,” he lamented.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith rushed to Karl and removed the offensive weapon with one
swift movement. It went ‘plop’ and left a tell-tale circle of reddened skin and
the beginnings of a fine bruise on Karl’s forehead. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How did you do that?” asked Edith, trying not to think what
could have happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I did not do it. A horrible boy with a Robin Hood shooter did
it. If I catch that boy it will be the worst of worstness for him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith swallowed twice. It was bound to be one of the older
boys, but they would never own up so she would have to do some detective work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How tall was he?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t know. He was on the ground and I was at the window of
my sleeping room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did he have red hair?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. His hair was black. Like his soul.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think that must have been Albert. I’m so sorry. I’m sure he
didn’t mean to shoot at you.””<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘It is too late to be sorry. I have the headache.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll fetch Albert so that he can apologize.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t bother. I go back to bed with my head.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith took a fresh tea towel out of a drawer and some ice out
of the freezer to make a poultice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Here you are,” she said. “This will take the swelling out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Karl marched upstairs holding the poultice to his head and
muttering incomprehensible expletives. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc222058140"><o:p></o:p></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-62109035910149918452016-01-30T04:03:00.001-08:002017-01-17T23:13:34.768-08:0013 - The Invitation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert did not waste any time pondering on the wisdom of
taking part in a talent contest. He dialled Cleo’s number and was rewarded by
the sound of her voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘This is Cleo Hartley. Please leave your name and number after
the beep and I’ll call you back...” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Beeeeeeeeeep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Robert stammered “Damn and blast. I’ll call back later” and
slammed the phone down. He was uncomfortable talking to a machine. It had taken
courage to dial the number and now he would have to repeat the procedure since
he had not thought of following Cleo’s instructions. It did not occur to him
that she would recognize his voice. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Maybe he should practise an aria or two before committing
himself to anything as spectacular as a talent contest. He had not sung much
that day. On Mondays, most people ate leftovers from the Sunday joint and he
spent most of the day at the back of the shop making yards of sausages ready
for Tuesday’s fast food cooking. The task needed so much concentration to get
the sausages all the same length that he could not sing at the same time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert knew that his customers enjoyed listening to his
sonorous bass-baritone and he quite often serenaded them while he was weighing
and wrapping; his vocal contribution to the church choir was appreciated so
much that even Cleo Hartley had come to church to listen to him, but a talent
contest was a completely different kettle of fish and he would never have
dreamt of entering had Dorothy not suggested it. What with one thing and
another, which might have included a bit of shyness, he did not get round to
phoning Cleo again that same evening and the following day found him giving the
matter second thoughts. For her part, Cleo felt that phoning back was not such
a good idea since Robert had said he would phone again, but she already knew
how she would get round that little problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As on every Wednesday, the shop was only open until lunchtime
so a steady stream of customers claimed Robert’s attention all morning. Imagine
his surprise (mixed with embarrassment) when Cleo swept into the shop bearing a
rolled up poster. She had left Clare to deal with the last library book clients.
Besotted Mr Morgan, who had taken to turning up at the library and sat
infatuated in a corner, peeping over the newspaper the library provided, was
actually sorry that Cleo had left as he was now exposed to Clare on her own.
Wooing someone at a distance was easier than approaching the admired one or
even being drawn into a conversation with her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had caught a bus back to Upper Grumpsfield to catch Robert
before he shut up shop for the day. She was going to spend her free afternoon
catching up on gardening and household chores and would reward herself with a
fragrant soak in the bathtub followed by an American-style supper. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert dealt somewhat hastily with the customers who were
ahead of her. That left Cleo standing in front of the counter and him behind it
not knowing how to proceed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Anything wrong, Robert?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert seemed to be in a trance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you all right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo spoke quite loudly. He was not behaving as he usually
did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh. What did you say? ...... Oh yes, I’m all right, thank
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
He was anything but all right. This confrontation with a
person on whom he had a shine had dumbfounded him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Could you find a space for a poster, Mr Jones?” said Cleo
very formally, since it was a formal request and British people tended to do
that. “It’s for a talent contest.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Gladly, Miss Hartley. Where would you like me to hang it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“On the door would be fine, thanks,” Cleo replied, balancing
the poster on the glass-topped counter. “And I’d like a T-bone steak if you
have one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course, of course! I’ll go to the back and get one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Thanks.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Then purely on impulse she called “Make it two!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert fetched a tray of T-bones steaks from the huge
refrigerator at the back of the shop. While he was doing so, he rehearsed what
he was going to say next.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Miss Hartley,” he began as he weighed the steaks. “Dorothy
Price told me about the talent contest. Do you think I could enter for it?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Then, before Cleo had time to say anything he burst out “I
suppose I’m too old, aren’t I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was not far off fifty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Nobody is too old, Robert. People of all ages will want to
take part.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert Jones was partly relieved and partly sorry that the
first hurdle had been taken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You’d better put me on the list, then,” he stuttered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Is that why you phoned me the other day. Mr Jones?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert looked startled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes,” he finally said. “How do you know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“My answering machine gave the game away. I recognized your
voice. You did say something into it, you know. Something like ‘damn and blast’
if I remember rightly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did I? I’m not very good at talking to machines.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I gathered that. So what are you planning to do, Mr Jones?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo knew that Robert sang in the church choir, but she didn’t
want to let on that she had been to church especially to hear him making up at
least half the volume of the choir.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Perform - at the talent contest.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I could do my knife-throwing act, couldn’t I?” he
chuckled, suddenly coming out of his trauma and waving his carving knife around.
The ice was broken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Robert,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m Cleo,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
To Cleo’s astonishment Robert offered him a hand to shake. Was
this also part of British tradition?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It’s hard to say whether Robert was trying to impress Cleo or playing
the fool to cover his shyness. He had indeed been an amateur juggler in his
early years, but knives had not been part of his act.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Too dangerous, Robert,” said Cleo, quick to enter into the
spirit of things. “Can’t you do something a little less risky, like singing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With his eyes fixed on the T-bone steaks he was now wrapping, Robert
muttered that he would also be prepared to sing an aria.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll put you down as a singer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But I won’t know which aria to sing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was panic in Robert’s voice, but for a different reason.
He needed delaying tactics to stop Miss Hartley leaving the shop before he had had
time to ask her to go out with him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sure we can solve that problem. You can ask Dorothy Price
or Laura Finch. They would both be able to advise you. How much?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How much what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The steaks, Robert.”’ <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert had been hoping she would offer to help him to decide
which aria to sing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Oh, nothing. They’re on the house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But only if you come to dinner and eat one of them, Robert.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The words had slipped out before she could stop them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
In his wildest dreams, Robert had not been expecting that
reaction. Cleo interpreted his silence as a yes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Good,” she said. ”Is 7 o’clock OK?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo felt elated. She had long since come to appreciate Robert’s
friendliness. He had been the first to make her feel welcome in Upper
Grumpsfield, and even if that were only part of his sales tactics, she had been
glad of it in an otherwise hostile environment. Now things were OK between her
and the rest of the village, but unpleasant memories are hard to banish and it
helps if one can temper them with nice ones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was grinning from ear to ear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Don’t forget to come, will you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was in seventh heaven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, I won’t.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was now on cloud nine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo felt decidedly light-headed. As she proceeded down the
street to the greengrocer’s to get salad, sweet corn, crème fraiche and big fat
potatoes to bake in their jackets, she wondered how she had had the nerve to
invite Robert to dinner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert had seemed happy with the idea, but that didn’t stop
her being a bit apprehensive. It wasn’t very often that she entertained and was
a long time since she had cooked for a male friend. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
An hour later, Cleo was starting to wonder if Robert had got
the wrong idea. Would he think she was what these quaint villagers called a
loose woman? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Of course, she had intended to ask him if he would like to try
American cooking sometime and had made up her mind that today would be the day
to broach the subject on a theoretical level, but actually ordering an extra
steak and inviting him to come and eat it that very same evening was as
unexpected to her as it had been to him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If the steaks had been in the counter display, mused Cleo, she
might have just bought one and gone home. Did Robert really want to come, or had
he only been too polite to refuse? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo felt like a young girl about to embark on her first date.
Instead of getting some gardening done, she spent half the afternoon in a
scented bath and chose her outfit with a lot of care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Long before her guest was due to arrive, Cleo was running
round the kitchen preparing the food like her mom had done. Traditional
American cooking was something she didn’t usually bother with these days, but
today she would serve the steaks dripping with herb butter, a mixed salad
spiced with an American dressing, jacket potatoes dressed with a cream dip, and
sweet corn on the cob, a delicacy bought on Middlethumpton market a few days
ago. The English didn’t know how to cook, she reflected, remembering her
mother’s words. They stewed everything, including their salads. And what if
Robert had a partner she should have invited. She did not know if he was a
single. How embarrassing if he had had to leave someone at home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
At exactly seven o’clock, the doorbell rang and Cleo rushed to
open the door. Robert was carrying a large bunch of long-stemmed red roses that
he more or less pushed at her, Gareth Morgan style. The symbolism of those
roses was not clear to Robert, but fairly obvious to Cleo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
She blushed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, you shouldn’t have. Come in, come in! I’ll put the
beautiful roses in water.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Though Cleo Hartley was a well-built woman not far off 40, she
felt almost sylph-like and about 16 in the presence of Robert Jones, who was
built as tall and wide as the cottage door frames and reminded her of American
footballers. Cleo was accustomed to them being padded out, but this guy didn’t
need any wadding. She supposed the muscles came from wrestling with cows and
pigs, but she tried not to think too much about that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert sat down on most of the sofa in front of a blazing fire
in the cottage tiny sitting room. Cleo served Martinis and Robert proposed a
toast to the evening. A smell of good cooking pervaded the air and he was
happy. So was Cleo, but they weren’t quite ready to tell one another that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A well-cooked meal can work like ambrosia if the constellation
is right. Cleo and Robert lost all sense of time and talked about themselves. Day
was dawning before he took his leave, promising to return as soon as he had
closed his shop for the day. After almost no sleep, Cleo was in a strangely
intoxicated mood all through Thursday. It wasn’t that they had had what is
commonly known as a one-night stand. That
was much too soon, Cleo told herself. But she was walking on air and hardly
noticed who came into the library and left it; her conversation with Clare was
punctuated by deep sighs. Clare thought she must be sickening for something. Cleo
did not enlighten her.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-36083101338787914392016-01-30T03:13:00.003-08:002017-01-20T02:21:03.591-08:0012 - Deceit, Dilemmas and Diplomacy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip had found Clare’s unexpected arrival at the vicarage
inconvenient for reasons he preferred not to delve into. He had always found
Clare’s visits inconvenient and confusing and did not even dare to consider
whether he was sexually attracted to the vastly experienced Clare. Edith was in
contrast to her sister tame and uninteresting and in his view only interested
in the act of procreation. Edith had, in his priestly mind, now assumed the
role of housekeeper. Her days of being a wife had ceased with the birth of the
twins he had not wanted and, in his own words, ‘been tricked into fathering’. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Dorothy was relieved that Mr Parsnip would be distracted from
the forthcoming talent contest by family matters. It gave her much more scope
to get things up and running. The current situation might even remind Frederick
that he should devote more time to his family and less to himself. In Edith’s
place, she would have been very fed up with having to shoulder nearly all the
burdens.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy’s first consideration was the location of the
competition. First thing on Monday morning, she made her way to the old school
hall, a sizeable building that did not belong to the church, but had once been
part of a grammar school that had since been made superfluous and knocked down.
The hall had been used as a gym in the grammar school era and was still a
relatively well-visited venue for all sorts of events, from boxing matches to
disco evenings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy asked if she could hire it for a big event, not
revealing that it was to be a talent contest in case someone else took up the
idea before her. A trip to Middlethumpton town hall sealed her arrangements.
She had only told one small story about why she needed the hall. White lies or
subtle omissions were sometimes unavoidable, she told herself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As far as setting a date was concerned, Dorothy was in luck. A
scheduled itinerant theatre group had cancelled their performance and the hall
was free on the second Saturday in November unless there was snow. When she had
done her shopping, she would phone the vicar and inform him of the fait
accompli and he would not be able to argue about it. She knew Mr Parsnip would
be disappointed, but the old school hall had a proper stage with red velvet
drapes and dressing- rooms. It was the only excuse for a theatre that
Middlethumpton had. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If it was made clear that the event was being sponsored by St
Peter’s for the glorification of Upper Grumpsfield, some of the proceeds could
go to the organ and roof funds, the rest could be donated to the Mayor’s
entertainment fund and everyone would be happy. What is more, if dancers,
comedians and acrobats wanted to compete, the church hall, which only had a
very small stage, would hardly be a suitable place for them to do so. The old
school hall was the perfect place to hold the event. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy had avoided consultation with the talent show committee
before making that important decision because she knew that there would be
heated discussion about it, mainly because Laura had not stopped being
resentful about Dorothy doing her own thing. Frederick Parsnip would be
manipulated enough by Laura’s charms to supporting whatever she decided. He was
infatuated by her, Dorothy suspected.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy did not expect Laura to make a fuss about her
decision, but she did. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura Finch never minced her words. It would be more correct
to define the relationship between her and Dorothy as a truce rather than a
peace. Winning the Duggy competition together, arriving at the bus station to
embark on that ill-fated tour of the universe that never actually happened even
in its truncated form because they had walked out in disgust had forged a bond
between them, but it was more like children ganging up together than genuine
friendship. It was only a matter of time until the old rivalry broke out anew.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A brief call to the vicar had secured his approval of that
decision and any others she would wisely make, but not only had Dorothy omitted
to tell her church hall idea, she was against Laura making any decisions at all,
and that was more than Laura could bear. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy knew of old that Laura liked to get mixed up in
arguments and hamper progress, and found that taking an active interest in an
organization was tiresome. The practical effort should be made by others. But
she liked to be asked about everything. Dorothy was walking a tightrope when
she set herself up against Laura. Mr Parsnip had taken it upon himself to phone
her and intimate that Dorothy was doing everything to make the talent show a
success. That was a red rag to a bull. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura took a taxi to Upper Grumpsfield to confront Dorothy
Price with her one-woman-band tactics. She had a good excuse for her dramatic
move. The new shopping mall in Middlethumpton was so impersonal that you always
felt you were there incognito. In the hope that Dorothy would eventually turn
up at Verdi’s emporium, where Mr Bontemps would later be allowed to show his
admiration for her, Laura treated herself to a cup of tea at the cafe opposite
and sat at the window table to keep an eye open for the moment Dorothy
appeared. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
If Dorothy did not turn up within a reasonable space of time,
Laura would buy some of fawning Mr Bontemps best cheese before going to
Dorothy’s cottage to confront her there. She would not go home until her
mission was accomplished, though she was no longer entirely sure what that was.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura was, however, in luck. She had barely drunk her tea when
Dorothy appeared and presently the two ladies were standing in the queue, Dorothy
near the front and Laura at the back. Had Dorothy looked around she would probably
have spotted her, but she had her eye on a nice little slab of crumbly Cheshire
cheese and was hoping against hope that Mr Bontemps, Dorothy’s declared enemy,
would not force it on someone else just to spite her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
When her turn came to be served, she pointed at the cheese and
asked him to check its weight for her. To her surprise, Mr Bontemps told her
that that particular piece of cheese was reserved. He did not appreciate being
asked if his weighing was accurate, but there was more to it than that. Out of
the corner of his eye, he could see Laura Finch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who for?” said Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Mrs Finch. She phoned me earlier on and she’s standing behind
you in the queue.” He told that lie without batting an eyelid. Laura Finch
grinned like a Cheshire cat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy swung round to see Laura nodding approvingly at Mr
Bontemps, with whom she seemed to have struck up a kind of kinship. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh,” Dorothy retorted. “Well actually, I was only thinking
aloud. I’d rather have a chunk of Double Gloucester.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Can you see well enough to slice it yourself, Mrs Price, or
shall I slice it for you?” Mr Bontemps asked cattily. Baiting elderly ladies
was his favourite sport. He privately thought Laura was also an old crow, but
at least she never pocketed her small change and he was not one to look a
gift-horse in the mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I expect I can, and it’s Miss, if you don’t mind!” Dorothy
snapped, handing him her shopping list. While he busied himself putting the
products together, Dorothy enquired over the heads of the other customers what
Laura was doing in Upper Grumpsfield when there was a perfectly good
supermarket in Middlethumpton and much better customer service. Then,
remembering the need to keep the peace, Dorothy invited Laura to accompany her
to her cottage for a cup of tea so that she could explain the talent contest
situation at length. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You haven’t told me anything yet,” said Laura. “But
fortunately Mr Parsnip phoned and said you were making decisions over his
head.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy knew that Frederick would never say such a thing,
since he was only too glad when someone else made decisions for him, but she
did not comment. A public argument with Laura was something she would rather
avoid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since all the other customers were now looking curious and
listening, Dorothy finished her shopping and waited outside the shop for Laura.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Sometimes a decision has to be made urgently, like this
morning. The old school hall in Middlethumpton just happened to be available because of a
cancellation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I doubt if you’ll be able to manage without me, so you’d
better keep me posted in future,” said Laura.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
‘You could have said something yesterday, if you had had any
ideas,” Dorothy pointed out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think we all took it for granted that the competition would
be held in Saint Peter’s church hall.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But no one actually said anything, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So why didn’t you say something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura had a point there. Dorothy hastened to justify her
decision.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I couldn’t suggest that venue because I didn’t know it would
be available, Laura.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, next time I shall be a lot more vocal at the meetings.
We can’t have people overriding united agreements.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Being called ‘people’ maddened Dorothy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No decision was made, and certainly no united one. You were
as silent as the grave, Laura.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That was true. Laura had been pondering over a family issue
rather than getting involved in the discussion, but she could hardly confide in
Dorothy with the atmosphere between them suddenly as frigid as it ever had
been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We’ll go round to the bakery for some of those nice custard
tarts to take home,” Dorothy suggested in a conciliatory tone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I haven’t got time for a house visit,” said Laura. “Let’s
just have a cup of tea in the little cafe over the road and you can tell me the
details.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Soon after, they were ordering tea and cakes, all of which Dorothy
found herself paying for. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura Finch had spent what she liked to think of as her best
years aboard cruise ships entertaining the guests with her vocal prowess. There
had never actually been a husband named Mr Finch, but she was sure no one had
an inkling of this. Jason Finch, whom she always gave out as her nephew, was in
fact her son, born of a short, torrid episode in the Caribbean and raised by
foster parents, since cruise-ship entertainers could not take their offspring
along. Not that Laura had wanted to be bothered with an infant who had only
occurred by accident with any one of four fathers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
On returning to the UK alone having left Jason with his foster
parents, Laura became respectable. She had inherited the family home in Lower
Grumpsfield and was soon regarded as a valuable member of the community. The
skeleton in Laura’s cupboard had inherited his mother’s vocal talent. In her
view, the talent contest would be the ideal opportunity to introduce him (as
her nephew) to his ancestral home and score valuable points in her striving for
fame. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
With Jason in mind, it was sure to be for the best that the
much larger old school hall was going to be the home to the talent contest,
though she would not say so as that would have been good for Dorothy’s
standing, which Laura had no wish to enhance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since the adjudication of the competition had not been
discussed at the meeting either, Laura decided she would take the initiative
there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course, I’m the only person qualified to judge the
singing,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy told her it was all very well except that all the
judges would judge all the competitors and the competition was open to all, not
just singers, so it was quite possible that a conjurer or acrobat would win. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura let it go at that. She was sure she was holding the
trump card, but she was not going to confide in anyone. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc222058136"><o:p></o:p></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy arrived back at her cottage wondering what had got
into Laura, putting her sudden compliancy down to her penchant for alcoholic
beverages, a small bottle of which she always carried around and, Dorothy
suspected, had emptied while she was officially visiting the café’s toilet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura was very fond of alcohol. Aboard cruise ships the liquor
had flowed freely, and she had never kicked the habit, though she was sure that
her ladylike conduct would not give away her passion for tipple. No amount of speculation could, however, reveal
to Dorothy the truth about Laura’s sudden compliance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Back at her cottage, Dorothy’s own speculations about Laura’s
sudden meekness were cut short by involuntary involvement in a trio of crises
involving other members of the community. The first involved the vicar<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dorothy, I’ve got a serious problem,” he told her over the
phone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I hope it isn’t one of the boys.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Not this time. They’re as fit as fiddles. It’s the roof.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The roof?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The church roof. The police have been here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“They caught two individuals prising lead off the church roof.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That is serious, but the police will deal with them,
Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You see, the roof has been leaking for some time, and now the
police say it’s because the lead has been systematically removed. I did not
even notice it had gone, which is to say that I did not realize that was the
cause of the leaks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That is serious,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘You spend your whole life trying to save souls and that’s
all the thanks you get for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip seemed to be seeking absolution, so Dorothy decided
he must have it, but not before she had told him to hang on while she looked
out of the window to check whose car was being parked with some difficulty and
a lot of noise in front of the cottage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Frederick,” she told him. “They
will have stolen the lead at dead of night, so you couldn’t possibly have
caught them yourself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But I’ve been appealing for money to mend the church roof and
all the time these criminals have been dismantling it. Now no one will believe
me. They will think it’s a ruse to make money and believe I organized the theft
myself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Nonsense, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t want the bishop to think….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Never mind the bishop, Frederick. He isn’t interested in St
Peter’s.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But what if he finds out about the lead? It would be a good
excuse to close Saint Peter’s down.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He can’t close the church down all by himself, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m not so sure, Dorothy. Without wanting to appear
disrespectful, I often think he’s up to something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Surely not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“‘Since he’s been our bishop, things have been going steadily
downhill in the whole diocese.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“For now, just concentrate on the roof, Frederick. You must
get it mended as soon as possible.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But thieves took the lead. It didn’t just walk away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“All the more reason for investing in synthetic roofing that
cannot be taken away and sold.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I expect you’re right.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course I’m right, Frederick. It’s common sense. The lead
off the roof can be sold to pay for some of the repairs now the criminals have
been caught.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was much cheered by this idea. He would go to the main
police station in Middlethumpton, where the two thieves were being held, and
demand that what was left of the lead be released so that he could organize its
sale. After all, St Peter’s urgently needed a waterproof roof before the winter
set in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And talk to the bishop before someone else does.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Must I…?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Do it, Frederick, just do it, but make sure he knows you’re
in full control.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Neither of them believed that, but the bishop might.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy was glad when the vicar rang off. He was much cheered
by his talk with Dorothy. She had not mentioned the old church hall to him.
That would not have poured oil on trouble waters, since Frederick wanted the
talent show to be his and his alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The second crisis in which Dorothy was forced to be involved
was of a more delicate nature and involved the lovesick Mr Morgan, who in the
meantime had more or less aligned his noisy old car with the kerb and beaten a
track to the front door. Dorothy let him in out of the rain, which was now
pouring down with a vengeance, and sat him in the kitchen to dry off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sorry you had to wait, Mr Morgan. I had Mr Parsnip on the
phone about the church roof.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the roof. The
whole church might fall about his ears and he would not notice, so involved was
he with his own confused emotions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What can I do for you? Would you like a cup of tea?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan would have preferred something stronger, but he knew
that Dorothy was unlikely to offer him anything, so he accepted the tea
gratefully. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Since he didn’t know where to begin, he thought a little
flattery might not go amiss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I know you have great experience of human nature...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If you want me to play the organ while you visit your family
in Wales, I’ll do it, but only for a week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy could not work the pedals properly, but otherwise she
was quite good at playing hymns and enjoyed performing slow bits of piano music
to fill in any gaps. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Thank you, Dorothy, but no, it’s something else. Something
quite different.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy noted that he sounded even more emotional than when he
talked about the Welsh hills. Was he sickening for something?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, spit it out, young man!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan swallowed hard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The fact is that I’m in love!” he blurted out to Dorothy’s
astonishment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“In love?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And there’s two of them, you see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Two of them?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“First it was the one and I think she felt the same and now
it’s the other and I feel terrible about switching my affections.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Wouldn’t it be better if you talked to the ladies in
question?” Dorothy advised. “I can’t help you with your romantic problems.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, no, no. I couldn’t do that!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why ever not?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The first one is married, Dorothy, and the second one is much
too close to her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy realised that Mr Morgan was talking about Edith
Parsnip and her sister, but she didn’t want to jump the guns. He would be sure
to reveal their identity if she waited long enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Isn’t the other one married too, Gareth?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan was much too involved in his emotions to answer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“One of them has such beautiful eyes and I think she likes my
music,” Mr Morgan soliloquized. “But then I looked into the other one’s eyes
and they are just as beautiful, but with an extra sparkle.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If you want my advice, you’ll put both ladies right out of
your mind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t do that. They are both too perfect.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, you’d better. Nobody’s perfect and Mrs Clare von
Klippen is still married and has seen more of life than you ever will, Gareth
Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan’s sharp intake of breath confirmed that Dorothy had
hit the nail on the head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So you know who I’m talking about?” Mr Morgan was quite
deflated now his secret was out. Not only that. He was also having to face the
fact that Clare was not free either, despite the absence of a Mr von Klippen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It was impossible not to notice how you behaved yesterday. You
were fawning round Mrs von Klippen all the time. I didn’t know you had it in
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That comment disconcerted Mr Morgan. How could an old spinster
like her know what passion was like? Before he could say something to that
effect, Dorothy added <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan came out in a cold sweat as he tried to imagine Dorothy
being passionate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Look for someone unattached, such as Delilah Browne,” Dorothy
recommended, ignoring Mr Morgan’s reveries. “I’m sure she would be delighted to
have a young man admiring her and buying her presents.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Morgan did not think having a girlfriend necessarily
involved buying her presents. Dorothy was quite struck with the idea of getting
Delilah to show Gareth the romantic ropes she was sure he was oblivious of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t think Delilah is attached to anyone,” said Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clearly, Mr Morgan could expect no sympathy from Dorothy. She
had given him some sound advice, but although he knew deep down that she was
right, he could not imagine switching his affections from Clare to Delilah, of
all people. It would be quite impossible to get involved with someone at least
double his girth and more overpowering than anyone else he knew, except for Laura,
who was as old as his mother, and Cleo, who was a bit too canny for his liking.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan would go home, write a poem and set it to music.
Then he would send a copy to Clare and hope it struck the right chord with her.
Mr Morgan’s ideas on courtship belonged firmly in the Victorian era. He thanked
Dorothy hastily and left without even drinking his tea. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Sitting stiffly in his little black car with its crocheted curtains,
bowling along the road home, Mr Morgan tried to compose some romantic verse for
the object of his affections. It wasn’t going to be easy. But then, love never
is, and there were a number of poets who had already done the hard work. He
would copy a Shakespearian sonnet and change a word or two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As if Dorothy’s day had not been tedious enough, Mr Morgan had
not been gone more than half an hour when the doorbell rang again. Dorothy
pretended she was out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Presently a face was pressed up to her kitchen window, making
her jump out of her skin. It was Robert. What on earth did he want?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Dorothy, Dorothy, you forgot your chops.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy opened the back door and let him in out of the rain.
In her haste to get to the cafe with Laura Finch, she had quite forgotten to
collect her order. She was touched that he had taken the time to deliver it in
person. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But Robert had an ulterior motive, as she was soon to find
out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, Dorothy,” Robert Jones began when he had removed his
dripping wet raincoat and at Dorothy’s behest managed to compress his generous
frame enough to squeeze himself onto the bank behind the little kitchen table, “The
fact is that I need a little help – matrimonial assistance.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Though Dorothy got on well with Robert on a superficial level,
she did not exchange confidences with him and was not sure that she wanted to.
He lowered his voice to conspiratorial level.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m desperate,” he moaned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll help you if I can, though I can’t imagine how,” said
Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I want you to put in a good word for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t think of anyone better suited.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy bustled around getting some fresh tea made. Robert was
now raving about the qualities of the lady of his choice, but she didn’t want
to jump to a hasty conclusion about her identity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who are we talking about, Robert? I don’t really know many of
the young ladies around here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She isn’t exactly young, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
An uncomfortable thought shot through her mind. What if Robert
had set his sights on Laura Finch? That would be the last straw. Laura would
never let her live it down. Anyway, she was much too old to indulge in such
nonsense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She is a woman after my own heart and she’s almost your
neighbour, Dorothy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
So it couldn’t be Laura, but it might be Delilah Browne.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You‘ll have to stop beating about the bush, Robert.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert’s choice might even have fallen on Clare von Klippen.
She hoped not. She could only think of one person who would be right for Robert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“When she comes into the shop and orders her T-bone steaks it
makes my heart sing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“T-bone?” puzzled Dorothy briefly. “Ah, so you are you talking
about Cleo Hartley. I did have my suspicions, Robert. I’ve got eyes in my head!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You have? Did I give myself away?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Frequently.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy nodded knowingly and Robert leapt out of his seat and
paraded round the kitchen extolling more of Cleo’s many virtues and declaring
that she was quite the most ravishing creature he had ever set eyes on. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The second Welsh Romeo to wax lyrical about a woman in my
kitchen, and on the same day, Dorothy said to herself, smiling to herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What shall I do, Dorothy? What shall I do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t you tell her everything you’ve just told me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I thought you could tell her a bit about me first. Recommend
me to her, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Now Robert was standing at the window like a frustrated poet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m not good with words, you see,” he explained
self-effacingly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Judging from the poetic blarney he had uttered just now, that
was simply not true.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t you sing something to her?” suggested Dorothy as a
thought shot through her head. “How about competing in the talent contest?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Talent contest?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, we’re having one at the old school hall in November.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can’t wait till November to tell Cleo how I feel about her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You won’t have to, Robert, as you will have to enrol for the
contest. But that would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? An aria sung
just for her!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
What a stroke of luck that Dorothy had forgotten the chops,
both were thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why don’t you just give her a ring – on the phone, I mean?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Robert was too beside himself with joy to notice the pun. What
a brilliant idea. He thanked Dorothy profusely for putting him on the right track,
drank his tea ex, ate a huge piece or maybe two of bara brith smothered in
butter and hurried back to his flat over the shop, his heart singing in the
rain. He resolved to phone Cleo Hartley right away. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Dorothy’s phone rang again, but she didn’t answer it. She had
had enough of tact and diplomacy for one day.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
faith1110http://www.blogger.com/profile/02358925817174593317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406920992542515118.post-45117478752326926762016-01-29T12:59:00.001-08:002017-01-16T15:06:45.688-08:0011 - Sisters <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Sunday dawned with an ominously red sky. Heavy rain clouds
rushed in and very soon the heavens opened over Upper Grumpsfield. Mr Parsnip
remembered the leak in the church roof, jumped into his clothes and dashed to St
Peter’s to make sure the bathtub was in place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a>Three minutes later he was heard shouting “a miracle” and seen
standing in the pouring rain in front of the church with his arms outstretched
and palms facing upwards, thanking his lucky stars and God for answering his
prayers. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith, who knew what the fuss was about, did not rush out.
Presently, Mr Parsnip veered into the vicarage soaking wet and shivering.
Surely he hadn’t caught a chill. He had.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith, whose guilty conscience was hurting almost physically,
ministered to her husband’s needs, providing him with a flu powder, a
hair-dryer and a complete change of clothing. The morning service would be
starting in just over an hour. The bemused evangelist did not even notice that
she had not asked him to tell her what all the fuss was about. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It’s back!” he volunteered at last, pushing his damp feet
into dry socks. “The donation box is back on the wall!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith said nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, aren’t you glad?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, yes. That’s marvellous.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith felt bad. Frederick thought it was God’s work and she
was leaving him with that illusion. She sighed, wishing the ground would
swallow her. The vicar interpreted her sigh as one of relief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“If I had more time I would write a brand new sermon. As
things are, I’ll just have to extemporise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith’s heart fell at the thought of Mr Parsnip ranting on and
losing touch with reality for the nth time. He was basically a prophet. Nothing
suited him better than sallying forth and delivering ‘the message’ in
bumper-sized portions. His position as vicar of a dwindling community did not
normally allow him any scope. No wonder he jumped at any chance of breaking
out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Fortunately for Edith, who had to bear the aftermath, such
outbursts were rarer these days. Anyone who had not experienced the vicar in
the throes of one would never have believed him capable of shouting hell and
damnation to all four winds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Frederick?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course I’m sure. See you in church.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Hurrying to get the boys their breakfast, Edith wondered if
she could cope with religion that morning. She was rather glad Sunday School
was not until after the service and going to be taken by a rather officious
member of the community. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip liked to delegate, especially when children were
involved. They made him nervous and lost for words. He didn’t really like
children, and that included his five sons most of the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But the vicar was all fire and brimstone as he rebuked the
culprit who had taken the donation box. Of course, his rhetoric meant
absolutely nothing to the congregation, who didn’t even know the donation box
had been missing. The threatening rhetoric was followed by a eulogy on the
virtues of returning things that do not belong to you, which made nearly
everyone feel guilty one way or another. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was a fair amount of throat-clearing and several in the
congregation gave earnest thought to their more recent misdemeanours. Others
wondered if they really needed to come to church if it only made them feel
awful. Edith realized that she could not possibly own up. She felt utterly
miserable. Despite her growing misgivings about her life as a vicar’s wife, she
was a loyal soul. She would ask Clare’s opinion. Clare knew how to get over
guilt. She had had enough practice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“It is indeed a miracle that I have witnessed this morning,”
Mr Parsnip was exclaiming. “Let us give thanks in prayer!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith crept out of St Peter’s while everyone had their eyes
closed. The rain had stopped. She dragged herself to the old gravestones and
sat on a conveniently low one. She hadn’t done anything wrong, except maybe in
her thoughts now and again. The donation box was back on its nail, so the best
thing to do would be to let grass grow over it. She was still pondering when a
voice called out to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Edith, what are you doing over there in the wet?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
It was Cleo, who was getting a breath of fresh air and musing
on how a thief would go about stealing things from a church. She had seen Edith
leave and followed her. Edith realized that she would have to say something now
if she wanted to avoid Cleo making a fuss later.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The donation box is back on the wall.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo had taken a brief look at where the box was supposed to
be and been extremely surprised to see it back in place, but she thought it
wiser not to say so. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Since when?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“This morning, or was it yesterday? I don’t know exactly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith thought she was making a good job of fibbing, but Cleo’s
eyes narrowed into slits. She thought Edith knew more than she was letting on.
Under Cleo’s scrutiny Edith felt as though the truth was printed on her
forehead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And you don’t know who put it back, Edith?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I think we should find out, otherwise it could happen
again, couldn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I don’t think it will,” muttered Edith. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That did not escape Cleo, either. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But we don’t know that, do we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
And that was a bit naughty of Cleo. But Edith had let her go
on a wild goose chase, after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith got up. The cold gravestone had chilled her to the bone.
She shuddered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sure we shall have no more trouble,” she insisted, then
turned to retreat hastily to the vicarage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo did not follow Edith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“See you this afternoon,” she called after her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, this afternoon,” Edith reiterated without turning round.
The tears were streaming down her cheeks. Cleo must not see them lest she smell
a rat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith need not have bothered to hide them. Cleo was now pretty
sure she had guessed the truth. But why on earth would Edith do such a silly
thing? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc222058134">As usual, Mr Morgan was the first to
arrive at the vicarage. He was peering over a disproportionately tall bunch of
daylilies. After the service, he had driven all the way to Middlethumpton
cemetery, failed to find anything on the graves that could be presented, and
even gone to the florist’s that was open all day Sunday. Edith wished silently
that Mr Morgan had chosen flowers that did not resemble an altar decoration. Mr
Morgan thrust the lilies into her arms and backed off a step or two, for fear
his emotions would overcome him. Edith was genuinely touched. Mr Morgan was
surer than ever that she returned his affections. <o:p></o:p></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith suspected that
the lilies might have been pinched from someone’s garden. It would not be the
first time. What a funny man, but what a nice thought, wherever the blooms had
come from. She smiled shyly and disappeared into the kitchen to put them in
water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip led an
only very slightly inebriated Mr Morgan into his study, where he offered him a
stiff drink and said nothing at all about the meeting. He had decided to show
him a photo of the organ as it had looked before the war. Now the organ fund
had grown considerably thanks to the lucrative events of recent months and in
view of coming events that were bound to attract plenty of attention, there was
a fair chance that a start could soon be made on repairs. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan was
thrilled, though he did not know why he had to spend his Sunday afternoon
listening to the vicar telling him the news. His only compensation was the joy
of being near Edith and eating her cakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare von Klippen was
not just Edith’s twin sister, but also an identical one in looks, if not in
character. Clare had wanted to see the world and started by going to Austria to
work as an au pair. Edith had visited her sister only to find her enjoying the
attentions of an Austrian Romeo quite a bit older than herself. She had then
moved to Switzerland and even enjoyed brief romances there, but none that led
to marriage, the ambition of so many au pair girls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After numerous other
brief affairs with other continental Romeos, Clare married the Austrian Romeo
who turned out to be a civil servant in the face of, or was it because of Edith’s
opposition to the match. Karl von Klippen was really too set in his ways for
someone as mercurial as Clare, though he did not reveal that side of his
personality before the nuptials. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare, looking for
just a little stability, found she had tied herself to an earnest, rather
humourless bureaucrat. What had started out as a frivolous romance ended up as
an act of defiance against Edith’s advice not to tie that particular knot. The
beginning of that marriage was almost the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
One day, while Karl
was doing something administrative at City Hall, Clare packed her bags and
walked out. Soon after returning to the British Isles she found a job teaching
German, which she now spoke moderately well, at a girl’s private college in the
South of England. Life after Karl had plenty to offer in the way of romance and
adventure. His letters to her appealing to her better judgment remained
unanswered, though Clare stayed married. The men in her life were not the
marrying kind, and being married gave her the kind of respectability that was
appreciated at a girls’ college. It was marriage as a cold case, as far as
Clare was concerned. Karl thought otherwise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
After training as an
infant teacher, Edith had found a job at an evangelical kindergarten. Quite
soon Frederick Parsnip had come into her life. He was the new vicar at Upper
Grumpsfield and Edith was swept off her feet, despite a considerable difference
in age. Now it was Clare’s turn to dissuade her sister from making a big
mistake. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“He has greedy eyes,”
she had said. Edith had not known what that meant. She thought Frederick would
have nothing to be greedy about and she was right. Possessions were important
to the ongoing vicar, but only in the way a three piece suite was. Edith as a girlfriend
was decorative and dignified enough to go to all the church meetings and other
events. Edith as a wife was a good housekeeper and kind mother of his children
until he caught on that she wanted more than he was prepared to give her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith was unaware of
Frederick Parsnip’s shortcomings was Undaunted and unseduced, she married him within
a year, and even if she did sometimes envy Clare’s freedom regained, she was
happier than many, not least because she bore 5 boys despite her husband’s
dislike of children. In each case she had more or less forced the issue, though
she would not have described it as such. Edith was not sex-driven, but
sometimes was has to jump out of the box to achieve something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Twelve years and five
children later, she was a hard-working mother, a vicar’s wife who contributed
considerable time and energy to upholding events such as coffee mornings, young
wives’ get-togethers and various events in aid of good causes. A general
factotum, in fact.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Romance had never
been much to write home about in the Parsnip marriage and had died out forever
after the birth of her twins, since Mr Parsnip insisted on single beds and
wished for no kind of physical contact in his life. However, never for one
moment had she thought of Mr Morgan as a possible alternative. His music was
her source of comfort and inspiration, not the man himself. She wondered if
Clare might be interested. He was not bad, all things considered, and
preferable to the pompous Karl von Klippen she remembered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Next to arrive for the
meeting were Dorothy and Laura. They were welcomed by Edith, who led them into
the living-room. Cleo arrived a few minutes later and the four women had time
to exchange pleasantries before Mr Parsnip emerged from his studio with Mr
Morgan in tow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah, Gareth,” called Laura,
who had used first name ever since he started playing regularly for her choir. “I’m
so glad you’re here. They have talent contests in Wales, too, don’t they?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan didn’t have
the slightest idea why she had asked him that, but the tumbler of supermarket brandy
and the good news about the organ had left him in a jovial mood, so he was glad
to inform her that talent contests were indeed a major attraction in the
valleys and had brought forth many a great artist in the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So you’ll help us
with the Upper Grumpsfield show, won’t you?” said Edith, for once getting her
timing right.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Astonished as he was
by this request, being as yet in the dark about what was going on, but not
dreaming of turning down a request made by Edith, Mr Morgan nodded vigorously
and willingly took the seat at the table Edith was now pointing to. When they
were all seated, one chair was still unoccupied. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think we are all
present now, aren’t we?” said Mr Parsnip, wondering if he had invited anyone
else and forgotten who. He was anxious to get started and was just about to
declare the meeting well and truly open when the gargoyle door-knocker thudded
several times in rhythmic succession.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Who can that be?” he
interrupted himself, suspecting that he had indeed invited someone else. Edith
rose hurriedly and said she would go to the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I didn’t think I was
expecting anyone else,” he told the committee. Before he could speculated any
further, Edith called “Surprise, surprise!” from the hall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith and Clare entered
the room together. They both happened to be wearing navy blue. That was not
planned, but it often happened. Mr Parsnip was immediately thrown into
disarray. Had Edith been wearing a blouse or a jumper? He made a desperate
effort to remember. Dorothy and Laura had both noticed what Edith was wearing. Cleo
was amazed at the likeness. Mr Morgan had seen Clare’s photo, but he was
totally stunned by the vision of not one, but two live Ediths. Before Edith had
cast her spell on him, he had never given Clare a thought, except that had been
dreading the day he would be confronted by the twins at close range and be
expected to tell them apart and know which one he was in love with. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was
invariably thrown when confronted with both of them, preferring to rely on what
Edith was wearing. He made a conscious note of that if he knew Clare would be
present. The sisters were like two peas in a pod and what is more, they made a
sport of creating confusion. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh! It’s Clare!”
exclaimed Mr Parsnip, looking at neither of them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Fortunately for
everyone present, Edith realized that this was not the right moment to play
identity games, so she hastened to the rescue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare phoned while
you were out yesterday, Frederick. I would have told you, but…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip sat down
heavily. He felt put out. Clare was quite capable of ruining everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Morgan was looking
from one twin to the other and back again, like at a tennis match. Then Clare
took the initiative and walked solemnly round the table, shaking hands with
everyone including a gushing Mr Morgan, who held on to her hand just a trifle
too long with his own moist palm, before Clare sat down on the vacant chair
next to Cleo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip could only
hope that this meek and mild start to his sister-in-law’s visit would last
until the committee had left. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“To what do we owe
the honour?” he could not resist asking her, however. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare wants to
discuss something very important with me, Frederick,” Edith replied for her
sister.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Couldn’t you do that
over the telephone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Not really,” Clare
chipped in. Why was Frederick Parsnip such a busybody? Surely she could visit
her sister without him making a fuss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll go and unpack,
Edith. Excuse me, everyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Unpack? Are you
planning to stay the night?” Mr Parsnip was now severely disgruntled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That was the general
idea. Just carry on with what you were doing. Don’t bother about me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
That, Mr Parsnip knew
from experience, was impossible. Clare was one of those people who filled their
space to the edges and encroached on yours if you didn’t watch out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“How long are you
planning to stay, Mrs von Klippen?” Cleo asked, sensing that Clare was causing
a disturbance just by being there. Clare was a here today, gone tomorrow kind
of person. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just call me
Clare... von Klippen sounds so formal. I don’t know yet.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was now so
desperate to find a suitable assistant for the library that she felt there was
nothing to be lost by asking Clare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Because if you’re
here for a bit longer I could use some help at the library.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was thinking
that Clare von Klippen was the last thing Middlethumpton library needed, but
all he said was “You don’t know how long you are staying, Clare? What do you
mean by that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll explain later,”
Edith interrupted before Clare could reply. “Why don’t we just get on with the meeting?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes,” Laura Finch
chipped in. “Let’s get on with it, shall we!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“A meeting? Can I
stay?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh yes, Miss
Clip-on. Do stay!” gushed Mr Morgan. Why had he been captivated by Edith all
this time? Her sister was much more attractive, he decided. Not her looks. You
couldn’t tell them apart. No, Clare had something sparkling inside her, like
good champagne, and she smelt gorgeous. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Von Klip-pen,” Clare
corrected. “But do call me Clare.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, indeed I will.
I’m Gareth.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So now we’ve got
that sorted out, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Laura said crossly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I could take the
minutes,” Clare offered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Minutes? We’ve never
had any minutes taken before, have we?” Mr Parsnip really didn’t want Clare
hanging around, even if she was making herself useful. “We don’t need any
minutes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Of course we have,”
Cleo Hartley remonstrated. “I did the last ones, but I don’t mind handing over
to Clare.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So what’s the
meeting about?” Clare wanted to know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’d like to know
that, too,” said Gareth Morgan. “I don’t like Sunday meetings, so if it’s not
important....”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Morgan had
always been prepared to suffer a meeting if it gave him an opportunity to be
with Edith and eat her excellent home-baking. But now, to his own
consternation, he perceived that his affections had switched to Clare in the
twinkling of an eye. He could only hope that they would all insist that he
stayed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As if on cue Dorothy
came to the rescue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, now you’re
here, you’d better stay, Gareth. And anyway, you’ll probably be needed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Needed? What for?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“All in good time,”
said the vicar, hoping to catch the drift of the conversation before long.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Laura Finch was
drumming her fingers loudly on the table.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
As it turned out, it
did not take long to make the initial arrangements for the talent contest. Cleo
announced that she would do the publicity and make lists of the competitors.
She would accept applications at the library, too. She was sure lots of
Middlethumptonians would want to compete and that way she would be able to
employ her marketing talent as well as her investigative one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But not at the
expense of Upper Grumpsfield artists,” insisted Dorothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And not forgetting
to invite Lower Grumpsfield to take part,” added Laura. Since that village
barely existed on the map, it would take a lot of motivation to get anyone
seriously interested, but Laura liked nothing better than a challenge. After
all, there were a few good singers in her choir and at a pinch they lived near
enough to qualify as residents of Lower Grumpsfield, should some sort of
boundary be drawn, which she would of course do her best to prevent. She would
teach potential candidates showy arias and they would have their own
competition to choose the best for the big show. She kept this plan to herself.
No use putting ideas into people’s heads, people being Dorothy. For a
consideration, Gareth Morgan could be persuaded to keep his mouth shut, of that
she was sure. She was confident that she could produce a winner, since she had
another card up her sleeve, which even Mr Morgan would not get to know about
just yet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was
pleased to see how eager everyone seemed to be to get going. He lost no time in
delegating as many tasks as possible, reserving for himself only the tasks of
inviting the bishop and making appropriate announcements in church. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar assured Laura
that Lower Grumpsfielders would be welcome to compete. That, as far as he was
concerned, was that. After all, it was actually Dorothy’s baby, though he had
not mentioned that during the meeting for fear of putting Laura’s back up. You
never knew who might tip the boat. If they couldn’t get the show up and
running, there was always the risk that Middlethumpton town council or Upper
Grumpsfield busybodies would. No, the organ fund needed topping up and the roof
needed urgent repairs. The money had to come from somewhere controllable. What
could be better than to tie the event to the church?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith perceived the
finality of her husband’s rhetoric and announced that tea would be ready in a
minute. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Just one more
detail,” Clare remarked and they all looked at her expectantly. “We haven’t set
a date yet!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip’s shackles
rose. Was Clare thinking of participating?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“November is a dead
month. Let’s have it then!” suggested Mr Morgan, hoping Clare would stay till
then. That would give him quite a long time to plight his troth. Edith had now
slipped his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Early November. We
don’t want it clashing with the Christmas events.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
There was a general
murmur of assent to Dorothy’s suggestion. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, that’s settled
then.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was
relieved there wasn’t going to be an argument. “How about the second Saturday
in November?” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
A round of applause
brought agreement and an end to the meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip thought
everyone would like a drop of sherry after all the hard work. While he was
getting it, Mr Morgan had time to sidle round to Clare and indulge in a little
small talk. It was at moments like this that he took care to remind himself
that short men could be as charming as tall men. What did Napoleon have that he
didn’t? Wasn’t Mozart a short man? And that Greek shipping owner, Onassis? He
was a real gnome. Compared with him I’m quite an Adonis, thought Gareth Morgan,
modesty not being one of his strong points. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Gareth Morgan’s role
models had been successful men short in stature but long in persistence and
ambition. Mr Morgan might be lost for words from time to time, but inside he
felt strong and in control, especially when he perceived himself to be the only
eligible bachelor far and wide. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith’s was a little
peeked that Mr Morgan had transferred his attentions to Clare. Smothered by Mr
Morgan’s effusive attention, Clare extricated herself and went to help in the
kitchen, giving Laura an opportunity of clandestinely reminding Gareth of the
next choir rehearsal in Lower Grumpsfield. On no account was he to arrive late.
If there was going to be a talent contest, she would need to audition her best
singers. Better to be prepared, though she had her doubts about the whole
venture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’ll be there on time,”
he hissed, hoping that Dorothy had not heard them. He needn’t have worried. Dorothy
was busy thanking Mr Parsnip for taking up her idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
By the time they all
left it was almost suppertime. Clare had promised to visit Cleo at the library
next morning, Dorothy had vowed to make a list of possible talent contest
candidates among her pupils, and Mr Morgan had put away half a bottle of sherry
and a great deal more than his share of cake before toddling off home on foot
since his degree of inebriation made driving his little car impossible. He was
as perplexed by his infatuation for Clare as by his back-peddling from Edith,
who was now past her sell-by date as far as he was concerned. Laura would have
to catch a bus home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was sure
that Edith and Clare were hatching something out. However, what with eating
supper, checking school satchels, sorting out the usual squabbles about who was
responsible for the mess everywhere and making sure that the five boys were all
in bed by the time the cuckoo clock on the landing struck nine, Mr Parsnip was
exhausted. Yawning widely, he retired to the sanctuary of his study to think up
a deadly sin for next Sunday’s sermon. At last, the two sisters could sit down
and talk. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
On Monday morning Clare woke well ahead of her alarm clock.
She was looking forward to her visit to Middlethumpton library and hoped it
would give her a real reason for staying in Upper Grumpsfield rather than her
having to trump up excuses to tide herself over. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Although Mr Parsnip knew nothing about her current dilemma,
she was sure he would understand when he did find out and treat her with less
enmity than during past visits. She and Edith had resolved to keep him in the
dark for as long as possible, however. Clare hoped Edith would not weaken in
the face of Mr Parsnip’s sometimes amazingly astute questioning. After
breakfast with the boys, she set off in her car, wondering if she could give Cleo
Hartley a lift into Middlethumpton. Sure enough, Cleo was still waiting at the
bus stop and only too glad to accept a lift in Clare’s two-seater.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
She was even more enthusiastic about taking Clare on when she
realized that this ride in the car would not be an isolated case. Cleo was no
keener on buses than she was on church pews. Years of self-indulgence added to
her naturally generous build meant that she was now quite round,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
But apart from shirking fad diets, Cleo could be strict and hard-headed
when the need arose. Now she was about to strike a deal with Clare she became
rather officious and Clare wondered if it would be such a good idea to work
alongside her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You see, the old librarian took me on when I was down and out.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare thought that was rather an unfortunate way of putting
it, but in a way Cleo was right. Clare wondered if she was always so perceptive.
She decided to put Cleo Hartley in the picture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, it would rather save my bacon right now,” she admitted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I thought as much. In trouble, are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No. Out of it, actually.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That sounds mysterious. Would you like to tell me about it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo was being surprisingly circumspect for someone dying with
curiosity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I lost my job at the college the other day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh dear, I am sorry.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Cleo’s hunch had been right. Clare was down and out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“There was a misunderstanding that has now been cleared up. But
I had already moved out, so I came here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But why didn’t you take your job back?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly have gone on working there after what
happened.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But if things had been straightened out, surely…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No way.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The assistant’s job I had before becoming the chief librarian
is still vacant and you can have it if you want it. The money isn’t good, but
it’s a start.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Thanks. That would be great, Cleo! But aren’t there any other
applicants?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh Clare, I’ve had at least half a dozen helpers from the job
centre who were no help at all. I’m not even sure if they could read, let alone
deal with the contents of a public library. They caused more chaos at their test
runs than the kids on a Saturday morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, I hope I can do better than that. When can I start?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Park in my space behind the library and start this morning,
unless you have something else planned! No time like the present! It’s quiet on
Mondays, so I’ll have time to show you the ropes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“OK. I will,” Clare agreed. She really had no choice, given
that she had no other source of income, very few savings and absolutely no plan.
Her intention had been to inspect the library on Cleo’s invitation and then
make a decision, but when opportunity knocks, you grab it, she had learnt by
experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Back at the vicarage, things weren’t running smoothly at all.
Edith had a guilty conscious about Clare living with them without Mr Parsnip
knowing why. She was sure he would avoid asking her directly. He preferred to
avoid confrontations and always stayed out of the way when Edith and Clare were
hatching out some plan or other. But this time it wasn’t something trivial,
like an identical new hair-do, or a shopping expedition to replenish their
identikits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip had not been out of his study all morning. Edith
realized she would have to tell him what was going on while Clare was still in
Middlethumpton because Clare would be sure to insist on secrecy without
realizing how impossible it was for Edith to keep even the most trivial piece
of news to herself without getting flustered and coming out in a nervous rash. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Then Clare phoned to say she had taken the job and would be at
the library all day. The children were at school, so the decks were clear for a
heart to heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Lunch is on the table, Freddie,” Edith called out from the
kitchen. Mr Parsnip wandered in looking apprehensive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith cleared her throat and busied herself with serving their
mushroom omelette. Mr Parsnip deduced that if she had made him one of his
favourite lunches, she must have something momentous to say.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think I owe you an explanation.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I think you do.” Mr Parsnip was not in the mood for helping
his wife to find the right words. “So why don’t you just spit it out?” he
continued, using Dorothy’s turn of phrase. Actually, he wished he were talking
to Dorothy instead of his wife. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Clare has lost her job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“That’s no surprise. Is that all?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Ah, but you don’t know why.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I can put two and two together. Your sister had another night
out on the tiles and didn’t show up for work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, this time it wasn’t like that at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, what was it like?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“A man was seen climbing out of Clare’s window in the middle
of the night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip reacted unpredictably. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What’s wrong with that? Clare is entitled to a private life.
The place isn’t a nunnery.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith was astonished at her husband’s sudden broadmindedness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The man was
apprehended by the police and a quantity of goods stolen from the college safe was
found in a briefcase he was carrying.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Oh. And did Clare know this man?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“No, but the police searched her apartment and found stolen
property behind the sofa. They assumed that Clare and the man were working
together and she was arrested by the police and told by the school director to
leave the college premises immediately.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Did they have proof that she knew the man?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Though Mr Parsnip found Clare both overpowering and irritating,
he did not believe she would do anything criminal. But he had to point out that
if part of the booty was in Clare’s apartment, it was not surprising that the
police thought she was involved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar wondered what it would mean for him as a vicar if
that information found its way into the newspaper and the bishop read it. He
could imagine the headline: vicar’s sister-in-law arrested for burglary.
Unthinkable. Rumours had it that the bishop, who was starting to be more of a
liability than an asset to the diocese, was looking for a reason to close the
doors of St Peter’s and that would be handing him a church on a plate, so to
speak. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Clare had insisted to the police that she had not done
anything wrong. The man they had arrested finally admitted that he was friendly
with to one of the students and didn’t even know Clare. Using insider knowledge
to gain entry, he had been helping himself to valuables out of the safe in the
residential wing when he had heard a noise, run down a corridor and gone
through the first unlocked door, which happened to be into Clare’s apartment.
He had rushed to the window and jumped out, hoping to get away, but dropped
part of the stolen property in his haste. It was just his bad luck - and
Clare’s - that one of the staff could not sleep and was gazing out of a window
on the other side of the quadrangle just as he climbed out of Clare’s window
and ran off. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The witness phoned the police and they intercepted him on
their way to the college just a few minutes later. He had been cycling in a
one-handed zigzag line along the road in the middle of the night without lights.
He had a bulging briefcase in his free hand and trinkets were dripping out of
his pockets. It would be hard to imagine a better way of making oneself
conspicuous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith sighed deeply at the end of what was probably the
longest monologue she had ever held. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“And where was Clare when the man got into her room?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“In bed, asleep. Her bed is in a tiny room next to her
sitting-room. She was wearing ear plugs because the teacher in the next
apartment always listened to loud music late at night, so she didn’t hear
anything, and she had forgotten to lock her door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So she was arrested in bed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But she was innocent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith nodded, now tearful. Mr Parsnip tutted several times. He
wasn’t quite sure whether to believe the story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“But they didn’t know that then, did they?” Edith argued. “They
had just stumbled over valuables behind the sofa.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Why was her door unlocked?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She forgot. I don’t suppose she was expecting a burglar,
anyway. There’s supposed to be security at night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, she’s here now, so it’s all been cleared up, hasn’t
it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip was intensely relieved, mainly for selfish reasons.
The story had had a happy end. There was nothing keeping Clare at the vicarage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith told him that Clare had moved into a local B & B the
same night. When she returned to the college to collect the rest of her things
after it was confirmed that she knew absolutely nothing about the man and his
escape via her living room, everyone was terribly sorry and begged her to stay,
but she didn’t want to. Apologies were no recompense for the humiliation of the
previous night. It was just her good fortune that the thief, who turned out to
have a long track record, was enough of a gentleman not to let her share the
blame. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“So now Clare has no job and no roof over her head,” concluded
Mr Parsnip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Having Clare under his feet all the time was what the vicar
dreaded most, apart from her consorting with a criminal, which he thought
possible, though presumably she hadn’t this time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes and no. She’ll have to stay with us until she gets
something sorted out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What do you mean by yes and no?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Yes, she has a job and no she has nowhere to go,” said Edith.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip thought Edith was now pressurizing him with an
appeal to his better nature, but he did not see how he could protest and still
call himself a Christian, so he just shrugged his shoulders and commented that he
hoped it wouldn’t take her long to get somewhere to live. In the meantime, he
would endure Edith’s preoccupation with her sister and the continued presence
of that sister under his roof with as much fortitude as he could muster. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“I’m sure she’ll keep the job at the library,” enthused Edith.
“She hit it off with Cleo Hartley straightaway. We’ll just have to organize
somewhere for her to live.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“We?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“You and me, Frederick.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“What about that husband of hers? Couldn’t he help?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Karl? Clare has no contact with him these days.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She could get in touch with him again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“She doesn’t want to. He visited her at the college more than
once and pestered her to go back to Austria. He’s the last person she would ask
for help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Mr Parsnip thought Karl von Klippen was an odd bod and not at
all Clare’s type. He had never understood why she had married him in the first
place or rather, he had married her. The polite Austrian was far too nice for
Clare, thought the vicar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
The vicar did not say so, but he fervently hoped that maybe,
just maybe this experience would have a sobering effect on his sister-in-law
and she would think seriously about what she had done with her life so far and
change its course.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Edith was light-headed with relief that Clare’s sorry story
had gone down so well. Clare would be glad the subterfuge was over, she knew.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
Later, replete from his omelette and a large slice of gooseberry
tart, Mr Parsnip returned to his study deep in thought. He could feel a sermon
coming on; something on the lines of ‘my brother’s keeper’, ‘charity begins at
home’ or ‘the prodigal son’. He settled into his swivelling chair and was soon fast
asleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
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