Village Secrets (27 page)

‘Yes, please,’ Kate whispered. ‘There really isn’t any need to come to see me again. I know how busy you are.’ Another tear slid down her cheek.

‘It’s Peter’s hospital day tomorrow so he’ll come if that’s all right.’

Kate turned her head away. ‘Peter gave me forty-eight hours.’

‘Did he?

‘You don’t know, do you?’

‘A bit. He doesn’t tell me everything.’

‘I’ve been such a fool.’

‘It’s never too late.’

‘It nearly was. If it hadn’t been for you … How did you get into the house?’

Caroline couldn’t lie. ‘Pat has a spare key she’s been meaning to give you. Mr Palmer gave it to her in case he lost his.’

‘I see. Well, there we are then. Saved by Mr Palmer.’

‘Sleep yourself better. Peter will be in tomorrow. I’ll ring the day after and see what the position is.’

Kate gave a half-smile and her eyes began to close. ‘The trouble with Peter is you can’t withhold the truth from him for long, can you?’

‘I know who’s at the bottom of all this. Altogether, I have four names now.’

Kate eyed him warily. ‘You do?’

‘Inadvertently, someone gave the game away. If you’re feeling well enough you can fill in the rest of the story, starting with Simone.’

‘The one thing I dread doing is anything which will leave those children without their mother. There are five of them – all dear children, but hopeless in school. Too tired, undernourished, badly clothed, badly housed … I mean, have you ever been inside their cottage? It’s terrible. Just awful. I wouldn’t allow Cat to live in the conditions those children have to endure. Poor Dickon sleeps under a blanket on the sofa and his night-clothes are a torn vest. But they adore their mother, and she them in her own way.’

‘Well, perhaps I can do something about that. You tell me your story.’

Kate reached for the glass of water on her locker. She sipped it slowly, using it as a delay while she assembled her thoughts. She put down the glass, drew in a deep breath and said, ‘I’ve been thinking long and hard since I became conscious.’

‘What has been the matter, by the way?’

‘The tests aren’t completed yet but they think it’s one of these recurring things I picked up in Africa. Gradually, let’s hope, the attacks will become less frequent.’

‘I’m glad about that. Everyone thought Simone had stuck pins in a doll and your illness was the result.’

Kate gave a small smile. ‘It could very well be. She was very angry because I’d decided not to attend any more meetings. Saw me as a kindred spirit, you see. She thought the others only came for the excitement – which they probably did. I was the real convert, she thought.’

‘Which to a certain extent you were.’

Kate looked straight at him. It was now or never. She had to decide. Did she tell the truth or mask it in generalities? She studied his face, his red-blond thatch of hair, the startlingly blue eyes emphasised by the contrast of the deep black of his cassock. His silver chain on which his cross hung, tucked as always into his leather belt. An ancient garb which didn’t manage to disguise the astute, up-to-the-minute man beneath. Confronted by Peter there was no place to hide.

‘When I was in Africa, I met a modern version of a witch-doctor while I was visiting a mission school in the hills. I came under his spell. I couldn’t stay away. That particular school came in for a great deal of my attention. He taught me such a lot.’

‘About
what
, though?’

‘Herbal medicines, spells, witchcraft. About the language to use – everything. He gave me Cat. Said she was my familiar. I fell in love with him. “Obsessed” is the only word to describe my state of mind. In his own way he loved me too, though I knew it was partly pride that his knowledge was superior to mine – I was the pupil and he the teacher. I had it all worked out. I was going to stay in Africa for ever and live with him. Then one day there was one of those sudden inexplicable risings which are a feature of a country where a tinpot despot, with the army in his pocket, rules supreme. Jacob unwittingly came across a group of the terrorists and … well, I hope they killed him quickly. I knew nothing for days, had no news at all. Then some refugees from one of the schools I visited, recognised me and told me what they’d found in the bush.’

Kate paused for a moment to control her tears. ‘It doesn’t bear talking about. Africa held no more fascination for me after that. I had a slight bout of this illness, though medicine being what it is in remote parts of Africa no one knew what I had, and I made that my excuse for leaving. Said my health couldn’t stand the climate, et cetera.’

At last Kate wept. Peter handed her a tissue from the box in her locker. He held her hand whilst the storm raged. A nurse smiled round the door and quietly pulled it shut. The clatter of the busy ward next door was shut away and the two of them were left together in the silence.

Slowly Kate’s tears subsided. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Not at all. It will have done you good.’

‘How embarrassing.’

‘Don’t fret. I’ve watched healing tears many times before.’

‘I expect you have. But I’m sorry for breaking down like that. It’s this dratted illness, it’s left me feeling so weak.’

‘Look, if you feel you’ve said enough for today …’

‘No, don’t go. I must tell you everything. Right now. You need to know. The people involved are Ellie, Valda and Thelma Senior, Venetia Mayer from the Big House – you know, Jeremy’s wife …’

‘Venetia Mayer? I don’t believe it!’

‘Oh yes, she’s a fervent participant. Simone, of course, Rhett Wright but he refused to come after the dog turned up, and that’s about it. Two of the weekenders came a couple of times but then they stopped.’

‘About this business of Sadie Beauchamp …’

‘We had nothing to do with that at all. That was Simone and only Simone.’

‘The way you say that, you seem to really believe she could be responsible for someone’s death.’

‘Do I? That’s stupid of me. She can’t, of course.’ But Kate didn’t speak convincingly.

‘And Simone – how about her?’

‘Somehow she guessed the very first time she saw me with Cat how things were. Foolishly, I acknowledged she was right. I got embroiled but drew the line when things got too deep. She behaves like, and considers herself to be, some kind of witch. There is no doubt in my mind about that. She happens to be evil, unfortunately. I’m sorry. I’m so tired now.’ Kate lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

‘I’ll leave. May I say a prayer?’

Kate nodded. Peter held her hand, asked for God’s blessing on her, and made the sign of the cross on her forehead with his thumb. This time she didn’t shudder.

As he left she said, ‘Take care. Please, take care. Never underestimate her power. She’s so full of her success she is on the verge of being evil just for the sake of it.’

That night the twins had feverish colds and Caroline knew when she put them to bed that she was in for a bad time. Alex couldn’t stop coughing and Beth had a vicious sore throat and a runny nose which, despite Caroline’s anxious care, had already made her nose bright red.

‘It’s no good, Peter, I’m going to put the camp bed up in the children’s bedroom and sleep in there. Otherwise I shall be back and forth all night, and you’ll not get any sleep either.’

‘Let me help.’

‘Certainly not. I’ve no surgery tomorrow and you have a day’s work to do. I insist.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, but do wake me up if things get serious, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll get the bed out and make it up for you – it’s the least I can do.’ He turned to go then came back into the kitchen. ‘They are going to be all right, aren’t they?’

Caroline studied his face. ‘It’s this witchcraft thing, isn’t it?’

‘Kind of.’

‘Of course they are. They’ve both got a cold, that’s all. Children do get them all the time.’

‘I suppose they do. It’s Kate, you see. She’s an intelligent woman and yet …’

‘And yet?’

‘And yet she’s quite alarmed about Simone Paradise. She doesn’t believe Simone killed Sadie, but at the same time …’

‘Yes?’

‘At the same time she’s terribly wary of what Simone will do next. She warned me to be careful.’

‘I think you should do something tomorrow, before it’s too late. I’ll give it some thought in the dark hours of the night when I’m awake with our best beloved.’ She shooed him out of the kitchen and made up a flask of cold orange juice to take upstairs for when the children woke.

Before she left the kitchen, Caroline stood looking out at the garden. A strong wind was getting up, the bushes at the bottom by the boundary wall were already swaying back and forth, and the wind seemed to be rustling through the thatch in an insidious kind of way. She was glad she lived in a solid well-built old house and not some flibberty-gibbet jerry-built construction. As she watched, the rain began – heavy slow blobs which dripped steadily onto the terrace. What should have been a moonlit night was dark and foreboding. A huge flash of lightning lit the garden and thunder cracked loudly right overhead.

‘Mummy!’

Caroline picked up the flask and ran upstairs. ‘All right, darlings, Mummy’s coming.’

The storm was the worst in living memory. When the villagers opened their curtains the next morning and saw the damage, there were quite a few who trembled. Indeed, they’d trembled during the night too, for the storm had raged for three hours, whistling down chimneys, slamming doors, and waking children who’d rushed to huddle in their parents’ beds. Jimmy’s chickens had squawked and screeched until he’d been driven into going outside to check on them. Sykes, well aware it was forbidden, had crept into Jimmy’s bed and when Jimmy got back in, they ‘d clung to each other through the worst of it. Cats had fled into wardrobes, dogs had howled and debris blowing about had smashed a window at the Store.

But what really struck terror into their hearts was the sight of a huge branch of the royal oak tree lying on the ground. Almost one third of the tree had crashed down. Old villagers and newcomers alike knew the legend – when the oak tree dies, so will the village.

Peter had gone to the church at half-past six to pray. He’d been awake a large part of the night despite Caroline’s solicitude; no one could have slept through that storm. So much water had run away down the church path that his trainers squelched as he walked. Before unlocking the door he’d decided he would walk round the building to inspect it for damage just in case. There might be tiles off the roof or hanging dangerously. He’d found that lightning had struck the church tower. The spire was fine but the square tower, where the lightning conductor should have saved it, had a long blackened streak down one side and several stones had been dislodged.

Willie appeared with his raincoat on over his pyjamas. ‘Well now, Rector, this is a pretty kettle of fish. What a night! See what’s happened? That daft builder’s taken down the conductor while he pointed them stones and never put it back. Look, yer can see.’

‘I can. Never noticed that when I came round to inspect it yesterday.’

‘Better get on to ’im then, the lazy idle …’

‘He wasn’t to know we were going to have the storm of the century, was he?’

‘No, I guess you’re right, but he’ll have to bring his scaffolding back and start again. You can see there’s been a long line of stones dislodged right from the top. Any damage to the rectory, sir?’

‘No. You all right?’

‘Yes, we’s fine thanks. Couldn’t sleep mind, but who could? Mr Charter-Plackett’s hammering some wood onto his window, can yer hear him? Be ages before he gets a glass firm to come right out here. They’ll be too busy in Culworth.’

The window was in fect replaced before lunchtime. The men from the glass firm were enjoying a coffee from the customers’ machine when Peter, in response to a telephone call from Jimbo, went into the Store to speak to him.

The two men touched their caps to him. ‘Morning, Reverend. Bad night last night you ’ad ’ere.’

‘It was, indeed. I’m surprised you’re here. Thought there’d have been more than enough work for you in Culworth.’

‘No, not there, Reverend. It’s bin windy an’ tha’, but no broken windows. Seems Turnham Malpas caught the worst of it. The eye of the storm, I think they calls it. Well, we’ll be off now. Thanks for the coffee, Mr Charter-P. Would you sign for us, please?’

Jimbo did as he was asked and when they’d left he looked at Peter and nodded his head in the direction of his storeroom. Peter followed him in. Jimbo took off his boater, smoothed his bald head, folded his arms and said, ‘Well?’

‘Well?’

‘What about it?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Isn’t it time something was done?’

‘I’ve got the men coming this afternoon. They’re putting the scaffolding up again and then—’

‘I’m talking about this witchcraft thing.’

There was a tap at the door. It was Linda. ‘Excuse me, Mr Charter-Plackett, sorry to disturb, but Sir Ralph’s wanting a word.’

‘Show him through here, if you please.’ They paused for a moment awaiting Ralph’s arrival.