Читать книгу The Newcomer - Fern Britton - Страница 7

Six months earlier

‘Penny?’ Simon Canter shouted from the bottom of the vicarage stairs, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

‘Penny.’ He shouted a little louder.

He had been emptying and clearing his office for the last three hours and it had not put him in the happiest of moods. ‘Penny!’

‘What?’ Her voice from upstairs was irritated. ‘I’m sorting the bloody books in Jenna’s room.’

‘Where are the bin liners?’

‘Under the sink, where they usually are.’

‘I’ve looked and they are not.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she muttered to herself, then shouted, more loudly, ‘Have you looked in the box by the back door?’

‘No.’

‘Well, look!’

Penny was not quite as busy as she was pretending. In truth she had been lying on her daughter’s bed for most of the morning, surrounded by packing cases and constantly being distracted by long-forgotten possessions. She had been flicking through her own old copy of Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes. She had won it at her boarding school. Her headmistress’s inscription still gave her a tiny thrill of pride.

Awarded to Penelope Leighton

For continued improvement in English Literature.

Congratulations

Miss Elsie Bird

Penny had had a difficult childhood. Her father had died when she was young and later she had discovered the woman she had been told was her mother was not. It had destroyed her sense of self-worth and left her with a need for praise and approval wherever she could find it. Even now, reading Miss Bird’s dedication to her more than thirty years later, she felt the pleasure of having done well.

It wasn’t until she’d met Simon, in her early forties, that she’d found the wonder of loving and being loved in return. And she, a woman who worked in the febrile, emotionally incontinent, ego-driven world of television, had found all that in a vicar! Now Simon shouted again from downstairs, ‘They are not there!’

‘What aren’t where?’

‘The bin liners.’

Penny huffily put the book down and went to go downstairs and find the bloody bin bags herself when she spotted them. They were where she had put them, at the top of the stairs.

‘Oh, here they are,’ she called cheerfully, covering her guilt.

Simon was grumping up the stairs.

‘Sorry, darling,’ she said with a hint of accusation as she met him midway. ‘Someone must have left them upstairs.’

Simon looked tired. His normally clear, tanned face and chocolate eyes were dulled with worry. ‘We have less than a week.’

She stroked his balding head and kissed his brow. ‘I know. We’ll be ready. I promise.’

‘I’ve still got the garage to tackle. What am I going to do with all those tins of old paint?’

Penny placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘The new people might want them to touch up any scuffs.’ She wiped a string of cobweb from his eyebrow. ‘I think you need some elevenses. Everything will look better after a coffee and a digestive or two. Come on.’ Taking his hand, she pulled him towards the kitchen.

Outside early spring was dawning on the little patio that Simon had built last summer, with the help of the village gardener, known to all as Simple Tony. The flagstones were warming and a robin was busily building a nest in the early clematis that clambered around the kitchen window.

Penny carried the coffee tray outside and balanced it on top of the lichened birdbath. Pulling up two tatty wicker chairs, she took the edge of her cardigan and swept away the dried winter leaves and crumbly bird poo from the seats.

Setting the chairs side by side, she plonked herself down with a sigh as Simon followed her out with a packet of ginger nuts.

Penny pulled her shoulders back and tipped her face to the sun. ‘The sea smells good today.’ She inhaled noisily, filling her lungs.

Simon sat down and opened the biscuits. ‘Ginger nut?’

She exhaled, shaking her head. ‘I’d prefer a digestive.’

‘There aren’t any.’

She looked at Simon, weighing up whether it was worth the risk of contradicting him by getting up and getting the digestives from the larder where she had put them, or just saying nothing. She chose the latter.

‘Not to worry,’ she said, and took another lungful of air with closed eyes.

Simon fiddled with the ginger nut wrapper, running his thumb around to find the elusive tape to pull and, while he did so, looked around at his beloved garden, recalling all the hours that he and Penny had poured into it.

The cherry blossom tree marking Jenna’s baptism.

The Wendy house under it.

The drift of daffodils, just budding now, planted several autumns before.

Eventually he found the Cellophane string and pulled.

Six ginger nuts sprang out and hit the ground.

Penny opened one eye. ‘Bugger,’ she said.

He sighed. ‘Are we doing the right thing?’ He picked up a biscuit and shook the grit off before dipping it in his coffee.

Penny exhaled impatiently. ‘Yes!’

‘It’s Jenna I worry about most,’ Simon said, looking at the vegetable patch that he really ought to have dug over by now. ‘Taking her away from this. Her home. Her garden. Her friends. The life she has known.’

Penny abandoned her deep breathing and gave him a sharp look. ‘How many times are we going to go over this?’ She snatched up a ginger nut before the beady-eyed, nest-building robin got it, and bit into it noisily. ‘We are going to Brazil,’ she said. ‘It’s your dream and we’re going to go for it!’

He ran his hand over his head. ‘Am I being selfish? What about you and your work?’

Before he could take another bleat, Penny was on him. ‘Stop being so sodding negative. I do believe Brazil has running water and electricity and phone lines and the internet! I can run my office from there easily. In fact, it may be better than being here. And Jenna is seven going on twenty-one and bursting for an adventure.’

‘She takes after you.’ Simon gloomily drank his coffee.

Penny sat up and looked him square in the eye. ‘Do you know what she told me last night?’

‘No.’

‘She told me that her friends at school were collecting things for the children you will be working with.’

‘What things?’

‘Hairbands, football shirts, pens, notepads, balls, make-up. Stuff that street kids have never had. She’s even set up a website with her form teacher, Miss Lumley, so that she can keep them up to date with her blogging and vlogging.’

‘Really?’ Simon’s eyes were shining with emotion.

‘Yes, but keep it under your hat and act surprised because I wasn’t supposed to tell you.’

He turned his gaze back to the garden and Jenna’s cherry tree. ‘It is going to be all right, isn’t it?’

‘It’s going to be bloody amazing!’ Penny stretched out to take his hand. ‘I know I’m not always the greatest vicar’s wife in the world, but the important thing is that I am your wife and the only one you have. Even the bishop has started to afford me some respect. He managed to look me in the eye rather than my cleavage last time I saw him … a huge step for mankind.’

‘He doesn’t understand strong successful women.’

‘Well, he’s going to have to. There are a hell of a lot of us about.’

‘Supposing the accommodation is even more basic than we’ve been led to believe? You might hate it.’

‘You forget I have spent most of my working life on film locations with a chemical toilet and cold showers. I never get the luxury Winnebago, believe me. Brazil will be sunny, hot, sexy, all the things that you and I could do with.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’s going to be fun.’

He smiled at her wearily. ‘Dear God, I hope so.’

Somewhere in the house the phone began to ring. ‘Ah, that’ll be God now, telling you to buck up,’ said Penny. ‘I shall say you’re out.’

Penny headed for the phone in the hall, dodging round a pile of boots and coats ready for the charity shop, and reached for the receiver.

‘Holy Trinity Church, Pendruggan. Good morning.’

‘Penny, is that you?’ asked the querulous voice of the bishop. ‘You were a long time answering.’

‘Maybe because we still have the old-fashioned telephone plugged into the wall.’

‘You must ask my office to sort you out a modern cordless one.’

Penny gritted her teeth. ‘Yes. We were turned down.’

‘Have I caught you in the middle of something?’

‘Not at all. We are only packing our lives up for Brazil.’

‘Of course. Brazil. Simon will be marvellous. He’s exactly the sort of man for the job. I must say when I did my ministry in Sudan, many moons ago now …’

Penny closed her eyes, preparing to hear another of the pompous old fart’s dreary tales of self-aggrandisement.

‘The Sudan!’ she said. ‘How … interesting.’

‘Oh my word, it certainly was. The people took to me immediately and the more I worked with them in their villages, taking the good news of the gospels with me, the more they truly loved me. I remember a day when a young woman with a small child on her back came to me and asked, in all humility, “Are you Jesus?”’

‘Well I never,’ said Penny, rolling her eyes at her husband, who was stepping over the coats and coming towards her. ‘How charming! You must tell Simon. He’s right here.’

‘Who is it?’ mouthed Simon.

‘God,’ she mouthed back.

Simon took the receiver from her and shooed her away. ‘William. How kind of you to call.’

Penny collected her coffee from the garden, tucking a couple of ginger nuts into her cardigan pocket, and returned to Jenna’s room. She was faced again with the scattered detritus of moving her life halfway across the world. There had been tears and fierce negotiations about what could go to Brazil and what would have to stay behind and go into storage.

‘But, Mumma, Blue Ted won’t be able to breathe in a crate.’

‘Oh yes he will. Teddies like to hibernate and it’ll be a big adventure for him to be in the big warehouse with lots of other people’s teddies.’

‘No it won’t.’

‘Yes it will.’

‘But he’ll miss me.’

‘Well,’ Penny had thought on her feet, ‘we shall send him postcards.’

‘He can’t read without me.’

‘So you’ll have lots of fun reading them to him when we get back.’

At which point Jenna had burst into tears and thrown herself on the bed with Blue Ted beneath her.

It had finally been agreed that Blue Ted and Honey Bear and Tiny Tiger could all go to Brazil in her flight bag, but the Lego, stilts and dolls’ house had to go into store.

Standing now in her daughter’s denuded room, Penny knew she only had a few hours to make these last books, games and teddies ‘disappear’ into storage before Jenna returned home from school.

As she worked, her mind picked at the anxiety she felt about leaving Pendruggan. No matter what she had told Simon, the move to Brazil was not going to be easy. She was a woman who liked to be in control of her environment. She needed her work, her hairdresser, the theatre, shops, and her independence. In Brazil she would have none of these safe anchors. She had to admit to herself that she would find it hard.

Simon, by comparison, would be in his element. He had been handpicked to join the missionary team in Bahia, to help the abandoned children who lived on the streets. Some were just babies, cared for by other children. They were exploited in every way imaginable. The Mission gave them shelter, teaching and food. Penny knew that Simon would plunge straight in and immerse himself totally in the work that he was made for, but she privately wondered how she would cope.

When Jenna had first been told about going, she had cried and run to her bedroom. Mortified, Simon and Penny had followed her, expecting a tantrum and refusal to go, but instead they found her gathering her teddies and telling them that they were needed in Brazil. They watched with awe and pride as she lined them up and told them, ‘I love you all, you know that, but there are lots of children who don’t have a special teddy or a mummy and daddy, so you are coming with me and I shall let you play with the Brazil girls and boys. But not you, Blue Ted. All right? Mummy says Daddy is going to be very important in a Missionary Position.’

Penny smiled at the memory.

And now Brazil was only a week away.

The essentials for their new life were already crated and stowed on the deck of a container ship, crossing the Atlantic.

Penny looked for the big roll of parcel tape and placed the last two of Jenna’s belongings – a magic set and a radio-controlled puppy – into the final box, sticking it down securely.

‘Right, you lot,’ she said, straightening up. ‘It’s only for a year. Twelve little months and we’ll have you out of storage and back here before you know it.’ She looked around the familiar room. ‘And you four walls, you are going to be home to the new family. Look after them, but don’t forget us.’

A woman’s voice called up the stairs, ‘Hello-o! Anyone fancy a sandwich?’

Penny went to the landing and looked over the banisters to see the auburn hair and freckly face of her best friend, Helen.

‘You are an angel. What you got?’

Helen beamed up at her and swung a Marks and Spencer bag. ‘Prawn salad, cheese and pickle or cream cheese and cucumber.’

‘Crisps?’

‘Salt and vinegar.’

Later, the kitchen table strewn with the remains of the ad hoc lunch and glasses of squash, Simon dusted the crumbs from his fleece and stood up.

‘Thank you, Helen. Would you think me rude if I whizzed off to the tip? I’ve got the car loaded and I want to empty it before I pick Jenna up from school.’

‘Go for it,’ Helen approved.

Penny chipped in, ‘There’s a pile of bin liners full of rubbish at the bottom of the stairs, if you can fit them in.’

He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. ‘No problem. See you later.’

Penny patted his bum as he went by her. ‘Jenna loves it when you pick her up.’

Once Penny and Helen were alone, Helen leant across the table and put her hand over her friend’s. ‘How are you feeling? Really?’

Penny slumped her head onto the table. ‘Exhausted. Anxious. Homesick already.’

‘I’d be the same.’

Penny lifted her head. ‘Would you? I’ve tried so hard to keep upbeat for Simon because this is so important to him.’

‘Tell me what you’re worried about.’

‘Jenna getting ill and no decent hospital to look after her. Insects in the house. Snakes. Lizards. Robbers. Earthquakes.’

Helen began to smile. ‘So, not much then.’

‘And worst of all, I’m going to miss you.’ Penny gripped Helen’s hand. ‘What is a woman without her best friend? The woman who knows all her secrets. Who’s going to make me laugh, bring sandwiches, wine and gossip?’

‘How do you think I’ll feel without you?’ countered Helen. ‘Who am I going to complain about Piran to?’

Penny sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘You’ll just have to strangle him.’

‘You’re right.’ Helen sighed. ‘Easier than divorce.’

‘You’re not married,’ said Penny.

‘Oh, yeah. Well, I could walk out on him.’

‘But you don’t even live together,’ Penny smiled.

‘Thank God!’ Helen laughed.

Penny stood and went to the fridge. ‘I’ve got half a bottle of rosé that needs drinking. Fancy a drop?’

‘Is my name Helen Merrifield?’

Penny took two glasses from a cupboard and poured equal measures of wine into them.

‘To me,’ she said, raising her glass.

‘To you,’ replied Helen. She took a mouthful. ‘I wonder if the new vicar drinks?’

‘Probably not. She looks a bit mousy. No, that’s unfair. Shall we say, natural. No make-up. Very petite. I think she might be one of those women who run for fun.’

‘But her husband is a dish.’

‘Did I tell you that?’

‘Several times.’

‘Well, he is. When we met them at Bishop William’s, I couldn’t believe how handsome he was. Think Cary Grant with a drop of George Clooney.’

‘I am.’

‘And he’s nice. Charming. Very attentive to Angela.’

‘What does he do?’

‘I think he said he was a political writer. To be honest, I was so busy looking at him that I forgot to listen to what he was saying. I’m expecting you to get all the lowdown and Skype me with every detail.’

‘What about the daughter?’

‘I didn’t meet her. But I think she’s around fourteen or fifteen. Something like that. Probably at the fat and spotty stage.’

Helen gave Penny a knowing look. ‘You’re feeling better. I can always tell. Your inner bitch comes out.’

As they laughed together as only old friends can, a wave of homesickness overwhelmed Penny.

‘Oh, I do hope we’ll be OK, and that they will be happy here – this house, this village … well, I couldn’t have been happier here and–’

Helen interrupted her before she could get into a panic. ‘You’ll be home before you know it. What could possibly go wrong in a vicarage?’

And with knowing smiles, they settled in for a good old gossip.

‘Don’t use the sitting room,’ Penny yelled four days later as Simon put his hand to the door handle.

He blinked. ‘I only want to watch the news.’

‘You’ll have to watch it on the little telly in the kitchen.’ She steered him away. ‘Also, no using the downstairs loo, or either of the spare bedrooms or your office.’

‘But I need my office.’

‘Out of bounds, I’m afraid,’ said Penny, pushing him towards the kitchen. ‘Helen and I scrubbed this house from top to bottom. Forensics would never know we lived here.’

‘This is slightly ridiculous. Angela and Robert don’t arrive until the day after tomorrow,’ Simon said, exasperated.

Penny shrugged. ‘Them’s the rules, I’m afraid. And tonight’s supper is fish and chips from the chip shop because I’ve cleaned the Aga. And tomorrow night, Helen and Piran are cooking for us. Our last supper.’

Simon took Penny in his arms and squeezed her. ‘I haven’t said thank you, have I?’

Penny tipped her head up to look at her husband. ‘What for?’

‘For doing all this for me.’ His chocolate eyes behind their glasses took in her deep blue ones. ‘For taking on this huge upheaval and not complaining once.’

‘Haven’t I? I’m sure I have.’

‘Shut up. Just, thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ She reached up and kissed him. ‘Now go and get the fish and chips.’

The following evening, Simon, Penny and Jenna trooped across the village green to Helen’s little cottage. Gull’s Cry was as welcoming as always, sitting in its beautiful garden, the path lined with lavender from gate to front door. Wisteria was starting to break into flower around the eaves and, as ever, a fat candle sitting in a bell jar shone in each of the two downstairs windows. The thick front door with its heavy metal dolphin knocker opened before they got to it and a small Jack Russell bounded out to greet them.

The silhouette of Piran Ambrose stood framed in the glow spilling from within.

‘Come in, come in, me ’andsome.’ He shook Simon’s hand. They were old and unlikely friends, who had grown up together.

‘’Ello, maid, come in out of the cold,’ he said to Jenna, putting his huge fisherman’s hand onto the little girl’s shoulder. ‘The fire’s lit.’

‘Hello Uncle Piran.’ She smiled shyly at the man she adored and bent down to tickle the little dog. ‘Hello, Jack.’

Penny entered last and Piran kissed her cheek. ‘All right, Pen? All set for the big day?’

‘I think so. Too late if we’re not.’

Helen came from the kitchen drying her hands on a tea towel and welcomed them all. ‘Piran, open the wine, would you, and there’s a bottle of elderflower cordial for Jenna.’

‘Something smells good,’ sniffed Simon appreciatively.

‘Piran has made his famous lobster curry for you,’ Helen told them. ‘Couldn’t let you go without a proper Saturday night supper in you.’

‘That was delicious,’ Simon said, putting his knife and fork together neatly on his plate.

‘You’ll be eating some different kind of grub in Brazil, I ’spect,’ said Piran, wiping up the last of the curry sauce with a slice of French bread.

‘I’m going to miss you, Uncle Piran.’ Jenna had eaten every scrap. ‘I love your cooking.’

‘Now listen, maid, it won’t be too long before me and thee are back on Trevay harbour pulling in those mackerel.’

‘Can I gut them when I come back? I’ll be eight by then.’

‘Eight, is it? You’m growing up fast. I tell you what, when you get back I’ll have a proper fisherman’s knife waiting for you. How about that?’

Penny butted in, ‘Is that a good idea?’

Simon stopped her. ‘It’s a very good idea. Jenna is growing up a Cornish woman and a Cornish woman knows how to use a knife and gut a fish.’ He turned to Jenna. ‘It’s in your blood.’

‘Is it?’ she asked, looking at her hands and spreading the fingers. ‘Cool.’

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Piran. ‘Now, there’s a little tube of Smarties in the sitting room waiting for you, as long as Jack hasn’t had ’em. You can sit on the sofa and watch some telly together.’

Jenna needed no further encouragement and skipped off, calling Jack to join her.

‘It’s going to be a big change for her,’ said Piran, watching them, ‘but it’ll do her the world of good. Growing up in a little village ain’t always a good thing.’

‘It was good enough for us.’ Simon reminded him. ‘You couldn’t wait to come back after you got your Ph.D. Cornish history is in your DNA.’

‘True, true. But where would I be if I didn’t have you to keep me on the straight and narrow? My best mate a vicar. I’m still in shock.’

Helen placed a cup of coffee in front of him. ‘You’d be a bloody rogue without Simon acting as your conscience. He’s your Jiminy Cricket.’ She handed Penny and Simon their coffees and sat down. ‘So how is tomorrow shaping up? Angela and Robert still coming to be introduced to us all?’

‘Yes.’ Simon spooned some brown sugar into his mug. ‘They’re staying over in Lostwithiel tonight with an old friend of Robert’s. I think they were at school together. Then they’ll drive over. Should only take half an hour at that time on a Sunday morning.’

‘The handover will be the hardest thing,’ said Penny. ‘But better to keep it short.’

‘You’ll have a full church tomorrow, mind,’ said Piran, smiling. ‘They nosy lot round here will be breaking their necks to check out the new vicar. They’m desperate to see the woman. Audrey Tipton and her wet husband will be front of the queue, you’ll see.’

Penny laughed. ‘You’re so right. And Queenie. I was in the shop the other day and she was desperately mining me for information.’

‘Oh God, she’ll bring out the ancient mothballed fur coat for the great occasion,’ laughed Helen.

‘The fur and perhaps the green velvet hat with the feathers and the net veil that she thinks make her look like the Duchess of Cornwall,’ chuckled Penny fondly.

‘How does she keep going with the post office and all those cigarettes she smokes? I do worry about her. How old do you think she is now?’ Helen asked.

‘She came here from the East End as an evacuee as a young girl,’ said Simon. ‘So she must be …’ he shut his eyes and calculated, ‘… about eighty-five-ish?’

A chill ran through Penny. ‘I hope nothing happens to her while we are away.’

Helen tutted. ‘Nothing is going to happen to her. She’s pickled in nicotine and her mind is as sharp as a razor. She can still add up quicker than a bookie. I promise you, she’s not going anywhere.’

‘Mumma?’ A tired Jenna wandered in, cuddling little Jack like a baby. His paws were limp and his eyes blinking. ‘Can we go now?’

Piran lifted Jack from her. ‘Bleddy dog. Spoilt, he is.’ He ruffled Jack’s ears and kissed his nose.

‘He loves that dog more than he loves me,’ said Helen, shaking her head.

‘Well, I’ve known ’im longer than I’ve known you. We share history.’

‘Bye-bye, Jack,’ said Jenna sleepily. ‘Bye-bye, Uncle Piran. You won’t forget my fisherman’s knife, will you?’

‘Certainly not. Auntie Helen and I will have it here the minute you get back.’

Saying their goodbyes, Simon scooped Jenna up in his arms, and led his beloved little family back to the vicarage.

Later, snuggled in bed with the lights out, Penny had a sense of foreboding. She fidgeted over to Simon, whose warmth comforted her. He reached an arm around her. ‘You OK?’ he asked sleepily.

‘Yes. Just thinking about how different the village might be when we get back.’

‘It’ll be the same as always,’ Simon told her. ‘Nothing changes in Pendruggan. Take it from me.’

That night, Penny had a torrid dream. Their container ship was sunk by a terrible Atlantic storm, taking all their possessions to the seabed. Her father was there and tried desperately to save everything but, after many dives, was finally swallowed into the murky depths. She woke up gasping, but as she lay in her bed next to her sleeping husband, she heard the high-pitched wail of a strong wind coming off the sea and the rattle of heavy rain.

She turned over to be closer to Simon and tried to shake off the bad feeling that still lingered.

‘It’s just an ordinary Cornish storm,’ she told herself. ‘And a simple anxiety dream. Everything will be OK.’

Eventually she did sleep, while outside, the storm raged, shaking Jenna’s cherry tree and running up the beach on Shellsand Bay to wash away the great walls of the sand dunes.

But when Simon woke, first as he usually did, the sky was the cleanest, washed-out blue, without a cloud. The sun was rising and bringing with it the first promise of summer warmth.

In the kitchen as he waited for the kettle to boil, he opened the back door and saw the wind-strewn leaves of Jenna’s cherry tree on the lawn and the slender necks of the daffodils bent to the earth. But today was not a day to grieve over nature. Today he needed all his emotional strength to hand his flock over to their new caretaker, Angela.