A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15) (32 page)

Peter knew it was coming, but when it was
said
out loud, he was struck dumb.

Eventually, having sat there for a few moments unable to speak, Peter said, ‘In view of what you have told me I think we’d better go and see the police.’

‘No, no. You tell them to come and arrest me.’

‘I can’t. I really can’t. You were provoked beyond what any man should have to endure. She tormented you, telling you it was me who saw them and she knew, full well, what it would do to a man like you.’

Jeremy came out in defence of Venetia. ‘You can’t blame
her,
she couldn’t help herself. She loved him like I loved her. It was all my fault for letting it all happen, for allowing her to sell herself, instead of getting stuck in and earning the money
myself. She couldn’t help herself loving Harry, it was true love for the first time in her life. It was my fault for not loving her enough.’ Jeremy groaned out loud in despair.

‘I’m going to get the car out of the garage and take you to the police station. You must tell them like you’ve told me. It’s the only way to regain peace for your soul. If we go quietly now, while everyone is asleep, it will be so much more dignified for you. If I call the police they’ll be here with all their bells and whistles and everyone will know. If I take you, we can slip away down Pipe and Nook Lane and no one will know. The police will take the circumstances into account, I’m sure. And if you give yourself up it will help your case.’

‘They are on to me, I feel it in my bones.’

‘Then let’s go. Now.’ Peter put a hand under Jeremy’s elbow and heaved him up.

‘May I use your bathroom before we go?’

‘Of course. The downstairs lavatory is under the stairs. There, look. I’ll just tell Caroline where I’m going and get my clothes on. Right? I won’t be a moment.’

Peter shot upstairs and found Caroline still sitting up in bed reading. ‘It’s Jeremy, isn’t it? Is he confessing?’

‘Mmm. I’m taking him to the police station. Right? Be as quick as I can.’

‘Take care, darling.’

Peter flung his clothes on and raced downstairs. He picked up his car keys from the hall table, unlocked the back door again, and waited for his passenger. He was taking far too long. He put his ear to the door and could hear him sobbing. Women’s tears hurt, but men’s tears were ten times worse to listen to. Peter knocked on the door. ‘OK in there? I’m ready for the off.’

It took a moment for Jeremy to unlock the door and, when he did, he’d wiped away the tears and it was as though, having made a decision, he was more composed. ‘I’ll go home. I’ll go in the morning myself.’

There was such desperation in his voice that Peter guessed exactly what it was Jeremy would do in the night in his house all alone. He’d kill himself. But he couldn’t deceive Jeremy by pretending he was driving him home but instead speed away to Culworth and the police station. That simply wouldn’t be honourable.

Peter sat Jeremy down on the chair in the hall, stood in front of him, and asked him outright, slowly and firmly, ‘I believe you are thinking of killing yourself in the night. Am I right?’

Jeremy shuddered and Peter could scarcely hear his reply, he spoke so softly. ‘I should have known you’d see through my subterfuge. I was a fool to think I’d get away with it. I’m in your hands. You decide for me. I can’t make any more decisions, I’m lost.’

‘My one and only decision is to take you straight away to the police station in Culworth. I can’t, in all conscience, take you home knowing what you might do. You’ll have to make this a time for being as honourable and truthful as any self-respecting man should be. I’m sorry, but that’s how I see it.’

Jeremy looked up at him with dead eyes, got to his feet, and followed him out of the back door.

Paddy’s mother Bridget had got her own way. She’d rearranged the wedding reception, organised a harpist, consulted Jimbo about the menu, the flower arrangements, the gifts for each guest, the place name cards, and the dancing with a smart band from London. Finally, with everything in place for a wonderful wedding for her eldest son, she visited Grandmama with a fresh idea she had in mind.

Grandmama, now at last back in her own cottage having recovered from her ghastly experience in Sykes Wood, was beginning to enjoy life again. Especially as she didn’t have Sykes to walk each day. Caroline and Peter, with eager support from Beth and Alex, had decided to give Sykes a home.

So when she opened her door and found Bridget Cleary standing there, she was absolutely ready for any proposal.

‘Bridget Cleary, Paddy’s mother.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen you around. Nice to meet you, do come in.’

Bridget appreciated the delights of the cottage and said so in no uncertain terms. ‘My, this cottage is beautiful, sure it is. So unusual and much bigger than you’d expect from the outside. Such character and very much enhanced by your interior design skills. I love the curtains, may I see the kitchen?’ She stepped straight into it without waiting. ‘Small, but everything you need is there. And a larder, wonderful! I love larders, they’re so easy to keep clean. Did you plan it? You must have, it’s wonderful. Up to the minute but so … so appropriately country style. I love it.’

‘Thank you. Yes, I did plan it. I love it too.’

‘It’s so light, that’s what’s lovely about it. Some of the cottages round the green are really quite dark, aren’t they? Small windows, you know. But this … I’ve come with a proposition. Shall we sit down?’

Grandmama found Bridget rather overwhelming, yet so nice with it. She thought to herself that she could do with someone like her for a friend.

Bridget plumped herself down on the sofa saying, ‘Now, this proposition. Tamsin is a dear, beautiful girl and my Paddy is so lucky to have her. She’s a delight and so talented. She played some pieces on her piano for me last night and it was out of this world. What a talent. What a talent! Now, this proposition. I would like to rent the cottage that belonged to Jimmy. Paddy tells me you’ve redesigned it, refurbished it, and it’s vacant at the moment. Is that right?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Yes? Can I have it?’

‘The thing is, I want it to be a long-term let, not a week here and a week there, you understand. Not like a holiday cottage.’

‘Oh, that’s what I want. A home I can come to as and when I have the time. I’d like to stay for a few weeks, go home and come back. I’d pay the rent three months in advance, no messing, every three months on the dot. How about it? I’d move in after the wedding. What do you say?’

‘You mean long term?’

Bridget nodded her head vigorously. ‘Of course long term. For years, and I shan’t expect a discount for long term. I pay my own way and thank God I can. God has been great and glorious to me these last twenty years. Let’s hope it stays that way. We could have some rare old times together, you and I. Eh? Don’t you think?’

‘Well, yes, we could. I’d enjoy the company.’

‘First of September for three months in advance. I tell you
what, I’ll write the cheque this very mimute, no time like the present.’ Bridget whisked her cheque book out, rested it on the little table by the side of the sofa and wrote rapidly. Then she signed it with a flourish and handed it over. ‘There we are, all signed and sealed.’

‘You’ve not seen the cottage yet. You’d better see it, surely?’

‘Sure I will. Tell you what, I’ll go and take a look round while you put the kettle on. How about that?’

‘Certainly. Here’s the key. It’s furnished. I cleared a lot out when Jimmy died, I got rid of his old furniture and put new furniture in. New beds too. The bathroom and kitchen are new too. I decorated everywhere as well.’

‘Just what I want, furnished. It’ll save me a lot of bother. Key?’

‘It’s next door but one. It’s called Jimmy’s Cottage. Jimmy left it to me in his will.’

‘Wonderful. Won’t be two ticks. Milk, no sugar.’ Bridget clutched the key and left in a whirl, leaving her handbag on the sofa as though they’d been friends for years. And that was what Grandmama liked about her; her spontaneity. Wonderful.

The tea tray was ready and the tea brewed when Bridget came back. There was a light in her eyes that was a pleasure to see. ‘Like it?’ asked Grandmama.

‘I most certainly do.’

‘You can call me Katherine.’

‘You call me Bridget then.’

‘I’ll pour the tea, shall I?’

Bridget nodded. ‘Isn’t this nice? It’s lovely at Vince and Greta’s but not like it is here. This is great. Thanks, yes, I’ll have a biscuit. A great one for biscuits, I am. I could live on ‘em, though I don’t. I’m a great believer in good food well prepared, plus plenty of exercise.’

‘I like the idea of good food, but not plenty of exercise. My exercise days are over.’

They sipped their tea and ate their biscuits in complete harmony, chatting in general about absolutely anything. Then Bridget looked at the clock. ‘Heavens above, I promised I’d go and visit the rector about the service. Got to go.’ And she did, piling their things on the tray and carrying it into the kitchen and leaving in a flurry.

What a thoroughly pleasant person, thought Grandmama. She’ll be a friend for me when she’s here, a friend of the kind I haven’t got in this village. They’re kindly and friendly in the village, but they don’t like me much. But Bridget Cleary has become my friend in an instant, and I like her very much. She carefully put the cheque away in her handbag, ready for the bank the next time she went into Culworth. She wasn’t without money, but that cheque four times a year would be very useful. Strange how things work out. Harry goes, Bridget comes. She dwelt on Harry for a while and wondered how he was getting on and what his sentence would be when he finally came up in court.

Bridget arrived breathless at the rectory five minutes late. ‘Oh, my word. You must be the rector’s daughter. I’ve heard all about you. I’ve an appointment to see your dad?’

Beth invited Bridget in saying, ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Cleary.’

‘Name’s Bridget to everyone, whatever their age. Nice to meet you. Beth, isn’t it? What a lovely girl you are. Finished school, I guess?’ She cocked her head to one side while waiting for Beth’s reply.

‘Yes, I’ve just finished. Results on Thursday.’

‘Then where?’

‘If I’ve got what I need, I shall be doing archaeology at Cambridge. If I do get the right results, that is.’

‘I’m not going to be such a fool as to say, Don’t worry, of course you will. One just never knows with these things. What I will say, is good luck. Your dad?’

Peter appeared as if by magic from the kitchen. ‘Here I am, Mrs Cleary.’

‘Bridget to you, Father.’

‘Bridget then. Do come in. It’s about the wedding, I understand.’

As he shut the study door, Bridget said, ‘Well, it is and it isn’t.’

‘Please sit down.’

She dropped on to the sofa saying, ‘I’ve been Catholic all my life but then, for various reasons, I stopped.’

‘I see.’

‘Will it be all right for me to come to your church to a service? You knowing I’m a lapsed Catholic. Would you mind? I don’t want to cause offence, Father.’

‘Peter’s the name. So far as I am concerned, the church is there for everyone.’

‘Right. That’s it, is it?’

‘Yes. There’s nothing more to say.’

‘If I felt able to change to C of E, would you have me?’

‘Of course.’

‘As easy as that?’

‘Yes, if that is what you genuinely want. We, you and I, would need to talk about things. Not lessons so much as a discussion, so that you know where the Church of England is coming from.’

‘Or going to!’

‘Yes. Quite right.’

‘I could try it and see.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh! You see, I thought you’d be difficult and ask me all sorts of questions and want to know this and that. My pedigree, almost.’

‘Why should I?’

‘I don’t know.’ Then Bridget looked into his face trying to understand the simplicity of it all, and she saw the compassion
and understanding in his eyes. She knew then that he meant what he said.

‘Thank you. That daughter of yours is beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Well, I’ll go then. You’re clearly a man of few words.’

‘But I mean every one of them. I’m glad you’re coming to the wedding. Paddy is delighted and so is Tamsin. It’s made all the difference to Paddy. I suppose some people would say they’re an odd match, but in fact they’re very well suited, I feel.’

‘I think so too. Different as chalk and cheese, but right for each other. And if our Paddy steps out of line when I go back to Ireland, you’ve my permission to put him straight.’

She grinned at Peter and he laughed. ‘OK then. I shall say it was you who told me to.’

‘Exactly. Just because he’s forty, it doesn’t mean to say he can misbehave. Where’s the rest of your family?’

‘My wife Caroline should be home any minute and our son Alex is upstairs, lying on his bed, worrying about his exam results.’

‘I’d love to meet him. Would he mind?’