Читать книгу Hidden Treasures - Fern Britton - Страница 13

‘Ssssh sssh. It’s okay.’ The man held her arms tight. ‘I’ve just come to introduce myself.’

Helen kicked out at the stranger’s ankles and he let go of her, hopping about in pain. She ran to her back door, darted inside and bolted it behind her. Two seconds later, there was a gentle knocking.

‘I’m so sorry if I startled you. My name is Canter, Simon Canter. I’m the vicar of Holy Trinity Church here in the village. I’ve only come to say hello. Actually, I think my ankle is bleeding a bit.’

Helen slid the bolt open and looked at him. Amidst the black of his coat and trousers she saw the distinctive white dog collar.

‘Oh my God. You frightened the life out of me.’

‘I am awfully sorry. Shall I come back another time?’

‘No, it’s fine. Come in.’ She stepped aside and he walked into the kitchen.

‘Would you like me to look at your ankle?’

He rolled up his trousers to reveal a white and hairless leg with a long scrape and blood starting to ooze down his shin.

‘Oh God, I’ll get a plaster.’

Once he was fixed and she had apologised for her blaspheming, she brought out the sherry bottle and a tube of Pringles. He made himself comfortable at the kitchen table.

‘I knocked at your front door, but as there was no answer, and I could see you moving about in the back garden, I walked around the side to find you. Promise! Don’t think I’m a Peeping Tom or stalker or anything like that!’

Helen wondered if she would have been able to describe him to a police artist if he really had been an attacker; he had the kind of face you would be hard-pressed to recall. He was slim, slightly under six foot tall, with chocolate-brown eyes enlarged by his spectacles. A shiny bald head made him look older than he was, but she guessed he was about her age. He smiled at her as she looked at him. A lovely smile. Full of humour and sincerity. He had goodness and kindness emanating from him which was instantly likeable.

‘I thought I would just pop round, say hello, and welcome you to the parish and the church. Are you a churchgoer?’

‘I haven’t been for a long time. Not that I’m not a believer! It just hasn’t been on my agenda for a while.’

‘Perhaps I can persuade you to come along and meet some of the flock? We don’t bite!’ Simon’s Adam’s apple wobbled as he laughed. ‘Do you play the guitar? Or piano?’

Helen felt panicky. ‘No, not really. Not at all, actually. Why?’

‘Christmas is nearer than you think and we like to put on a bit of an entertainment in the church. Raise some much-needed funds with ticket sales. The churchyard needs a lot of work. Some of our graves are very old and getting rather dangerous. The parish council are concerned about headstones falling on children or elderly visitors. It all costs money.’ He drained his glass and she poured him another. ‘We may also have to move some graves and re-inter the remains to make a bit more room. The local archaeologist and county council need to be involved with that.’

‘Well, I’d certainly be happy to buy a ticket for the show.’

‘Excellent. How many?’

‘Just me. And maybe my daughter, if she’s down.’

‘Can we persuade your husband?’ He looked up with something in his eyes she couldn’t quite read.

‘I doubt it. We’re separated.’

‘A single lady in the village! Oh my goodness, I wouldn’t want you, or anyone else for that matter, to misconstrue my visit here!’ More Adam’s apple action.

‘I am sure your wife wouldn’t mind.’ She smiled.

‘Well, you see,’ he coughed, ‘I am a single man myself, and as a clergyman I have to be circumspect about my demeanour and behaviour. The village gossips love any excuse.’

Helen, swallowing a laugh, said, ‘You are safe with me, I assure you!’

He looked crestfallen.

‘Not that I don’t think you are an attractive man.’

He perked up.

‘It’s just that I … erm … am not ready for … anything like that … at the moment.’

‘It hasn’t been my good fortune to find a lady kind enough to take me on.’ Simon looked at his shoes. ‘Although I live in hope that one day the Good Lord will find a lid to fit my pot, as it were.’ The Adam’s apple was on a bungee rope.

He took another large slug of sherry. Helen, feeling that she was about to hear his life story, topped up his glass, and then her own. She waited.

He turned his chocolate-brown, magnified eyes to hers, and blew out his slender cheeks.

‘I had a disappointment, you see. A few years ago now, but I still think of her. We met on a trip to the Holy Land. One of those organised excursions, you know. We sort of paired up and found ourselves sitting next to each other on the coach each day. Her name is Denise. She’s an RE teacher. Or was. I’m not sure what she’s doing now. Anyway, I knew I had fallen in love with her and we began writing to each other when we got home. She was in Scotland, not far from her parents. We ended up speaking on the phone every day and after a couple of months we met up in Coventry. The cathedral had a special service and we both thought it was a good halfway point. It was a marvellous day. The service was really inspiring. Wonderful music and singing. I got caught up in the elation of it all and over supper I asked her to marry me.’ He looked down at his worn cuffs.

‘And she said no?’ asked Helen.

‘Oh no, she said yes! It was all so exciting. I walked her to her B&B and said goodnight, and in the morning we met briefly at the station before I came back here and she went back to Scotland to make the wedding arrangements.’

‘So what happened?’

‘The night before the ceremony she said she felt unwell and didn’t want to go to the rehearsal. I sat with her and she was crying. I suggested calling the doctor, but she stopped me. She told me she wasn’t ill, it was just that …’ He tipped his head back and looked at the kitchen ceiling. ‘It was just that she didn’t love me enough to marry me after all.’

Helen leaned forward and held his hand as it cradled the sherry glass.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said.

‘I’m not looking for sympathy.’ He took out a hanky and wiped his glasses. ‘But it was a blow. I came here a very young man, twenty-one, freshly ordained and full of heroic ideals. A job where I could make a difference to society, the opportunity to meet my soul mate. The vicarage is such a lovely family house. It would come alive with people in it. Children … that sort of thing.’

They both sat in silence for a moment. Finally Helen said, ‘I think she made a big mistake. I bet she regrets it every day.’

‘Well that’s kind of you, but … it wasn’t God’s will. So,’ he stood up, ‘church on Sunday. I give communion at the ten o’clock service, if you’re up to it?’

‘Yes, I’d love to.’

Simon buttoned up his coat and after apologising again for frightening her earlier in the garden, walked down the path. As he turned towards the vicarage, her eye was caught by Polly waving at her from her window next door and giving her the thumbs-up. Helen returned the thumbs-up and waved back. Two minutes later, back inside and with a fresh glass of sherry in her hand, she wondered what Polly had meant by her gesture. Surely she hadn’t thought that there was anything between her and Simon? They’d only just met. She laughed at the idea – what a joke!