Читать книгу The Office of the Dead - Andrew Taylor, Andrew Taylor - Страница 17

In the evening David came home from London. The mood of the house changed. He arrived in the lull between Rosie being put to bed and supper. I hadn’t been looking forward to seeing him. Janet and I were in the kitchen, Mr Treevor was dozing in the sitting room.

David kissed Janet and shook hands with me.

‘Did you have a good time?’ Janet asked him.

‘Most of it was hot air but some useful people were there. Any messages?’

‘On the desk in the study. Rosie might still be awake if you want to say good night to her.’

‘Just a few phone calls I should make first.’

‘Oh, and Peter Hudson called.’

Already at the kitchen door, David turned. His face was sharper than it had been. ‘And?’

‘It was this morning – Wendy saw him. He said he’d phone or drop in tomorrow.’

‘He’ll want to talk about the library. I’ll see if I can get hold of him now.’

He left the room. I avoided looking at Janet.

‘He’s concerned about this library business,’ Janet said hastily, as if in apology. ‘There’s a proposal to merge the Theological College Library with the Cathedral one. Hardly anyone uses the Cathedral Library, you see, and it would be much better for everyone if it was housed in the Theo. Coll. Peter Hudson’s the new Cathedral librarian so his opinion’s very important.’

‘The marriage of two libraries? Gosh.’

She winced. ‘It’s more than that. You know David’s boss is getting on? It’s an open secret he may retire at the end of the summer term.’

‘And David wants the job?’ I smiled at her and tried to make a joke of it. ‘I thought the clergy weren’t supposed to have worldly ambitions.’

‘It’s more that David feels he could do useful work there. Canon Osbaston likes him. He’s the principal. So does the bishop. But the appointment needs the agreement of the Cathedral Chapter as well. It’s a bit like a school, you see. The bishop and the others are like the college’s board of governors.’

‘So where’s the problem?’

‘Some of the canons aren’t very enthusiastic about David getting the job. Including Peter Hudson.’

Janet began to lay the table. The Byfields usually ate in the kitchen because it was warmer and because the dining room was a day’s march away up a flight of stairs and at the other end of the house.

‘Hudson seemed quite a nice little man,’ I said. ‘Inoffensive.’

Janet snorted. ‘That’s a mistake a lot of people make.’ She sat down suddenly and rubbed her eyes. ‘God, I’m tired.’

I took the cutlery from her and continued laying the place settings. She fiddled with one of the napkin rings, rubbing at a dull spot on the silver.

‘It’s not really about this library,’ she went on slowly. ‘Or even about the job. It’s about the college itself. They’re talking about closing it down.’

‘Why should they do that?’

‘Because applications are down and money’s tight. It’s a problem all over the country. David says the Church of England needs between six and seven hundred ordinations a year at the minimum if it wants to keep its parishes going. But they haven’t managed six hundred a year for nearly half a century. And meanwhile everything’s more expensive. The Theo. Coll.’s a great barrack of a place. It simply eats up money.’

‘Why does David want to be principal of it? Couldn’t he do something else? Why can’t he have a parish like normal priests?’

‘He feels his vocation is to be a teacher and a scholar – perhaps even an administrator.’ She straightened one of the knives. ‘And – and I think it’s the sort of job that gets you noticed. David wouldn’t look at it like that, of course, but that’s what it amounts to.’

‘Sounds more like Imperial Tobacco than the Church of England.’

‘The Church is an organization, Wendy. They all work the same way. The C of E isn’t there to make money but it’s still an organization.’

I was tempted to make a joke about God being the chairman for life but decided that Janet might think it in bad taste.

‘The salary would be much better, too,’ she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

It was at that point that a handful of suspicions coalesced into a certainty. ‘Money’s tight for you, isn’t it?’

Janet said nothing. I remembered how David had paid my bill at Mrs Hyson’s and bought my train ticket. I thought about the cost of Mr Treevor’s taxi from Cambridge, and how having two extra mouths to feed – and in my case water – would affect a household budget.

I drew out a chair and sat down beside her. ‘You’ve been very good to me,’ I said. ‘Both of you, real friends in need. But I shan’t stay long.’

Janet lifted her face. ‘I don’t want you to go. I like having you here. Anyway, where would you go? What would you do?’

‘I’ll find something.’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet. God knows what would happen to you.’

‘Other people manage,’ I said airily.

‘You’re not other people. You’re Wendy. Anyway, what about Henry?’

My heart twisted. ‘What about him?’

‘You don’t think –?’

‘I told you in the letter. It’s over. I’m going to divorce him. He can’t contest it. He only married me for the bit of money I had.’ I rubbed a patch of rough skin on my hand, trying to smooth away the hurt. ‘I caught him making love to another woman and she was the ugliest bitch you’ve ever seen.’

‘Oh, Wendy.’

She took my hand. I stared at them, her hand and mine lying on the scrubbed deal table.

Janet said, ‘You must stay for a while.’

‘Only if you let me pay something. And if you let me help you around the house.’

‘You haven’t got any money.’

‘I’ve got one or two little bits of jewellery.’

‘You’re not to sell them.’

‘Then I’ll have to go.’

We glared at each other. She began to cry. So did I. While we finished laying the table we shared a brief companionable weep. By the time we’d dried our eyes, hugged each other and cleared the draining board we both knew that I would stay.