A Village in Jeopardy (Turnham Malpas 16) (7 page)

‘Ah!’

‘So . . .’

‘But, my dear girl, you have Marcus. You married him, so you must have some feelings for him.’

‘Gilbert! I don’t want to say any more except I’m devastated about Johnny going. That’s it. Devastated. I honestly am.’

‘In those circumstances all you can do is maintain your life as best you can, soldier on and eventually the pain will ease. Sitting curled up in a chair in front of a fire letting the world pass you by is no solution. No solution at all. You have your life to live, and you’ll have to get on with it. Don’t let the rest of your years be ruined by one man who decided to walk away. Although you can’t see it now, maybe it’s all for the best.’

‘I hear what you say. Thanks for listening.’

He smiled kindly at her. ‘I won’t stay for that tea. Good night. Call on me any time. I shan’t mind and neither will Louise.’

Alice said nothing, but managed a small smile.

Louise smiled too when he told her about Alice’s dilemma. ‘I feel for her. It happened to me. That’s why I came back to live here. I really didn’t want to, not with Mother querying my every move.’

‘Really? You never told me that.’

‘Yes. Got badly let down by a chap I’d organised a bank loan for. Lost my job over it too. The heart rules the mind so often. I knew he wasn’t sound but . . . I loved him and he said he loved me and was full of promises, till he got the loan and then reneged on it. But there we are. Fortunately, coming back home meant I met you.’

‘Well, I’m glad.’ Gilbert placed a smacking kiss on her forehead. ‘You realise it’s Johnny Templeton, not Marcus, that’s the trouble?’

‘Of course. Who can blame her when Marcus is a bore and totally selfish? I wonder what’s made Johnny go away? They seem so right for each other.’

‘No idea. Alice didn’t say. I’d put money on the choir winning the competition. The best is Laura Turner from Penny Fawcett.’

Louise laughed. ‘They won’t like that! Can anything good come out of Penny Fawcett, I ask myself?’ The two of them laughed. Then one of the children woke crying with a nightmare and that put an end to their laughter.

About midnight, just as Alice had finally got to sleep, she was disturbed by someone knocking loudly at the door. She heard Marcus’s voice and braced herself.

‘You put the bolts on,’ he said angrily when she opened the door.

‘I thought you were staying in London. What else would I do?’

Marcus flung his suitcase down on the floor and stormed into the kitchen. ‘I need something.’

‘Like?’

‘Tea and toasted teacake, or a scone or something, please.’

‘Right. Can I ask how it went?’

‘No.’

‘OK. Tea and toasted teacake coming up.’ Alice kept silent and busied herself getting it ready for him. A teacake was always his comfort food and by the looks of his face comfort was needed.

They drank tea and Marcus gobbled down his teacake and asked for another.

‘Right.’ In that case, things were worse than she’d imagined.

When he finished the second teacake Marcus was able to speak. ‘Half the people I needed to see were away at a sales conference. Those I did see said thank you very much for the complete manuscript, but they weren’t in a position to discuss anything at all till the commissioning editor had decided about it. I said, “Decided about it? Do you mean he is uncertain about it?” The reply to that was that it was a matter for the commissioning editor when he’d read it all and decided whether or not they wanted it.’

Marcus drank his tea right to the bottom, leaned back in his chair and said, ‘So I had to come away not knowing.’

‘That was bad luck, going when the people who mattered weren’t there.’

‘I don’t need your sympathy, thank you very much.’ He shuffled about angrily trying to get comfortable, but knowing he wouldn’t. ‘I could be waiting weeks for a decision.’

‘Possibly, yes. They need to be sure it’s the right book for them. After all, if they publish it they are putting a lot of money behind it, as well as time and effort.’

Alice hadn’t intended to be provocative but Marcus jumped up and just before slamming the door behind him said, ‘My book doesn’t need to be considered; it’s too good for them to miss!’

Alice was very aware she’d made a big mistake after this parting shot. Nevertheless, what she’d said was true; his problem was he couldn’t face his disappointment after all his cock-a-hoop boasting last night.

Marcus still had hope of success though, whereas she had none at all. Oh! Johnny! Oh! Johnny, please come back. I’ll apologise a thousand times for my foolishness, if only you’ll come back. Just to see you, even from a distance, would be enough for me.

She and Marcus spent a restless night because Marcus didn’t sleep a wink, so next morning Alice felt completely ghastly, which didn’t help her cope with Marcus’s bad temper. He cheered up eventually, after some tactful ego-boosting comments from Alice, and hastened up to his attic with the intention of beginning the sequel he was convinced they would be begging him for.

The doorbell rang about half past ten and it was Harriet standing there, bearing a gift of flowers.

‘Alice! Gilbert said you were ill, so I’ve brought you flowers to cheer you up.’

‘Come in! It was a false alarm; I feel much better this morning. Thank you for these, much appreciated. Have you time for a coffee?’

‘Are you sure? If you’re not well . . .’

‘I am and I could do with some company. These flowers are lovely. I’ll stand them in water and arrange them later.’

‘Will it disturb Marcus? Oh! Of course, no, he’s in London.’

‘He’s back actually, but he’s busy writing so we won’t disturb him.’

Harriet loved Alice’s kitchen – the inglenook fireplace made it so homely. They sat either side of the fire enjoying their coffee and chatted.

Harriet asked her about Marcus’s success at the publishers’, reminded her about the coffee morning of Bridget Cleary’s in aid of the flood victims, and then mentioned about choir practice the previous night. ‘Gilbert added a new hurdle for us to master.’

‘What was that?’

‘Singing “Amazing Grace” in a syncopated rhythm.’

Alice would never work out why she took umbrage at this statement, but she did. It felt like the last straw after yesterday.

‘You must be mistaken.’

‘No, it’s true and I have to say it certainly gave it some oomph! Made it go with real gusto.’ Harriet immediately sensed she’d made a huge mistake in mentioning the change. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

‘He never told me that was what he’d done.’

Harriet faltered. ‘Well, I suppose we could always go back to—’

‘We will go back and have it as I prefer it; make no doubt about that. “Amazing Grace” syncopated, for heaven’s sakes.’ Alice glanced at the clock. ‘He’s usually home about five. I’ll go round and ask him about it then. I’m not having it.’

Harriet began to feel uncomfortable. Alice appeared unnecessarily angry. After all, Gilbert was very experienced musically, and if Alice had heard it she would have been convinced it was a good idea, Harriet was sure. She talked a while longer and then stated that the kitchens at the Old Barn were claiming her attention and she really must go.

Alice, left alone with her thoughts, worked herself up into such a temper she decided to go round to Louise and ask her what had possessed Gilbert to change her plans for ‘Amazing Grace’. But she needed to put some work in on her music first and decided to do that and then go round to see Louise immediately before lunch. No, she wouldn’t – she’d go now, right now while she was so angry about the whole situation. She told Marcus where she was going and slammed the door behind her.

Louise was ironing a pile of clothes. Alice had never faced a pile so high, but then Louise was ironing for seven, not two.

‘Hello, Alice. Feeling better?’

‘I was until I heard what Gilbert has done to “Amazing Grace”.’

Louise had learned to take life very calmly with five children and a busy husband like Gilbert, so the anger in Alice’s voice didn’t ruffle her. ‘Don’t you like the idea?’

‘No, I do not. Is he at home today?’

‘Home about half past five I expect, as usual. But don’t come then because we eat when he gets home and our house is hectic from about four thirty until eight, what with homework and music practice. After eight when the younger ones are off to bed is better.’

‘Right. Eight o’clock it is. I shall be round, so warn him: I’m so angry about it. It may seem nothing to you, but it is to me. It’s my choir, not his.’

Diplomatically Louise gently offered, ‘I would have thought that syncopation would jolly it up and make the Turnham Malpas Ladies’ Choir stand out from the rest in a competition. Don’t you think it’s worth a try, surely?’

‘No. I don’t.’ As she watched Louise pick up what appeared to be the hundredth school shirt she’d ironed since Alice arrived she suddenly burst into tears, howling, ‘You’re so lucky. Did you know? So lucky.’

Very quietly Louise said, ‘I know I am. I’m sorry you haven’t children, if that’s what you want. But . . . believe me, you wouldn’t have time for your music like you have now and that in itself is a gift. Children are very time consuming.’

Alice continued to weep. Louise unplugged the iron and went to sit beside her.

‘It’s not just . . . not having children, is it? It’s Johnny perhaps?’

Alice nodded.

‘Maybe he’s gone home for a family emergency and will be back in no time at all. Have you not heard from him, had no explanation?’

Alice shook her head.

‘You know for certain?’

‘I told him I wanted to divorce Marcus and then we could be together, and he was horrified and immediately the next day he left. I honestly thought that he felt like I did. He said he did but he didn’t, did he, if he’s left so abruptly?’

Louise handed her a tissue. ‘There are some men, you know, who are scared to death of marriage and the commitment it means. You know, staying with the same woman for life, pushing the pram, loading the car with baby belongings just for an afternoon out when before they’d been as free as air. They panic and it’s only when they can’t help themselves because they’re so much in love that they agree. It could be that.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you, and get on with your life, giving singing lessons and piano lessons and making the best of what you have. Does Marcus—?’

‘Oh! No, he doesn’t. And he mustn’t.’

‘So you still care about his feelings then?’

‘I only care about the temper he’ll be in if he ever finds out. I don’t care about him and haven’t for a long time.’

‘Oh! Alice, I never realised. I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m going before I say any more. Sorry for being so ridiculous.’

‘You’re not, honestly. I’m just sorry it’s like that for you.’

Alice stood up. ‘I’m going. Thanks. I’ll be back tonight later on like you said. Do I look as if I’ve been crying?’

Louise shook her head.

As Alice left Louise said to her, ‘My lips are sealed. Oh! That’s Gilbert’s car. He’s early.’

Alice felt unbelievably silly for having wept, in fact unbelievably silly for taking such umbrage over ‘Amazing Grace’ in the first place, and then she did a rapid rethink and thought, no, it was her choir, her choice, so she would tell him right now, as she had said she would.

Gilbert was contrite. ‘Sorry, Alice, but I did feel that as it was for a competition maybe doing it differently would be a good idea, make it stand out, you know? Marvellous words, terrific sentiments, but it can come over sugary, can’t it? Sorry.’

It was said in the gentlest manner but it still annoyed her. ‘Next time I have to ask you to help out with the choir, please remember, it’s
my
choir,
my
choice and
I
say how it has to be sung. I know you are excellent at singing, especially when we look at the success your choirboys have, but this choir is
mine
.’

‘I never for one moment intended to give offence to you, Alice. Please forgive me.’ Gilbert smiled that beguiling smile of his and Alice softened a little.

‘All I can say, Gilbert, is don’t let it happen again. OK?’

‘Right. That it then?’

‘Yes.’ Alice left without waiting for Gilbert to see her to the door.

When she got home Marcus was clattering about in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. He was the first to admit he was hopeless at anything to do with cooking, but Alice always suspected that he said that to get out of doing anything not immediately associated with his writing. Alice felt her anger rising again.

‘I can’t find a thing in this kitchen! Why can’t we have it properly organised?’

‘It is organised. Here, look! Here’s the teapot, the tea canister right beside it. The tap half a metre away and the milk is in the fridge, and that is the kettle. The mugs are in the cupboard to your right where they’ve always been since we moved in. So what’s your problem?’