Village Secrets (17 page)

Rhett was crouched in the bottom of the wardrobe amongst the shoes and boots; he’d made his body as small as he could. On his head he’d rammed a sports bag and with his arms through the handles his head was completely hidden. His hands were gripped around his shins. Although his howls were muffled by the bag they were still loud enough to wake the dead, as Vera observed.

Peter shouted above the howling. ‘Hello, Rhett, Peter here from the rectory. Come to see if I can help at all. Is there anything I can do?’

There was a violent shaking of his head, but no dislodging of the bag.

Peter retreated from the cupboard and asked Vera how long he’d been like this?

‘Been to a friend’s to stay, got home about five, went out in the garden for a drag, beggin’ yer pardon Rector, but I won’t have him smoke in the house, and next news he’s deathly white, shaking from head to foot, and can’t speak. He raced in and hid in ’ere and he’s never moved since. Just howled.’

‘Did he seem odd when he came home or do you think he saw something while he was outside, or perhaps he spoke to someone? Did someone threaten him, perhaps?’

‘Only Jimmy spoke to ’im. I was outside there getting some coal in and Jimmy called over the fence.’

‘What did Jimmy say?’

Vera tried to remember the exact words. ‘He said “Now, Rhett, how about that then? What d’yer think, eh?” Then he laughed and pointed at that dratted dog he’s found. Rhett peered over the fence and was took bad immediate like. That’s all.’ Vera wrung her hands. ‘Oh God, Rector, I’m at my wits’ end. He hasn’t eaten or drunk anything and not been to the you-know-what for nearly six hours. What shall we do?’

‘He must be thirsty. Get him a drink – whatever he favours.’ Peter bent down inside the cupboard. ‘Rhett, we’re just getting you a drink; you must be ready for one after all this time. Your grandmother is very worried about you, Rhett, so how about coming out and sitting on the bed? I’m a very good listener; I’ve heard some rare tales in my time. You can tell me absolutely anything and it will be entirely confidential.’

Rhett’s howls grew louder and he began thrashing about inside the wardrobe, hammering with his fists against the back and slamming his feet at the end panel. Still with the sports bag over his head he said, ‘Go away, the devil’ll get you. Get away.’

With absolute conviction Peter said, ‘He can’t get me, because I’m wearing my cross. I believe the devil always runs from absolute goodness and that is what Christ is – total goodness. Here, you hold it.’ Peter unhooked the cross from his belt, took the chain from around his neck and reaching inside the cupboard touched one of Rhett’s hands with it. He clawed it into his grasp. Almost imperceptibly the howling began to lessen.

Vera came up with a glass of shandy. She whispered, ‘He’s a bit quieter. Thank Gawd for that.’

‘Indeed. Here we are, Rhett, your grandmother’s brought you a drink.’ There was a violent jerking of Rhett’s whole body and the glass of shandy spun out of the cupboard, spilling its contents over Peter and the carpet.

‘Oh sir, I am sorry.’ She shrieked at the cupboard: ‘Rhett, you stupid ungrateful boy! Look what you’ve done!’

Peter put his finger to his lips and waved her away. Vera went to stand by the bedroom door. She heard Peter telling Rhett that he wanted him to bring the cross out into the open into the light, and he’d be quite safe while he did it.

‘Come on now, come out, Rhett. Slowly. Slowly.’ Peter opened the door, shielding Rhett. ‘Let your hands go. That’s it. Hold the cross. That’s right. I’ll lift the bag off. Slowly. Yes, yes, I’ll do it very slowly. That’s great. Now your legs, one at a time. Don’t hurry. That’s it. Slowly. Grip my arm.’

‘Lights, is the light on? Mustn’t be dark. I want the light.’

‘If you open your eyes you’ll see it is.’

Inch by inch, Peter extricated Rhett from the cupboard. When he was finally standing on the carpet he raced for the bed and shot head-first under the duvet, his dirty trainers resting on the pillow.

‘Oh thank Gawd.’ Vera shouted downstairs, ‘Don, he’s come out! What is it, love? Tell your old gran.’

Peter said, ‘Let’s leave him for the moment. I’d love a cup of tea, Vera. I’d just poured one out when you rang.’

‘Of course, Rector. Cup of tea coming up.’ Vera scurried away downstairs, leaving Peter alone with Rhett.

‘Now we’ve got your grandmother occupied, can you come out?’

‘No.’

‘You’ve got the cross. No harm will come to you. Remember, you can tell me anything and I shan’t tell a soul unless you want me to. I’ve heard it all; there’s nothing can shock me.’

Very slowly, Rhett began to emerge from the bottom end of the duvet like a mole testing the night air. Peter’s cross was gripped in one hand and his eyes were covered by the other. Peter felt compassion for him. He was a typical teenager, lean and gangling, three rings in each ear, close-cropped hair, smooth-skinned but with a spotty chin.

Rhett opened his fingers slightly and peered at Peter through the gaps. ‘Can’t go to sleep. Daren’t go to sleep.’

‘If you could let me know what’s troubling you, then perhaps I could help to make you feel better.’

‘Can’t tell you, sir. Oh no, not you.’ Quietly he began howling again, rocking from side to side.

‘Look, Dr Harris – my wife – could give you something to help you to sleep. Then we could talk in the morning when you’ve rested. We’ll ask your grandfather to help you undress and get you into bed, and then she could come across.’

Rhett nodded his assent and whispered, ‘Can I keep your cross? Till tomorrer?’

‘Of course. I’ll come back and we’ll talk. Right?’

‘Right.’

‘It’s that blasted dog, Mr Charter-Plackett. The thing’s damned, that’s what.’ Mrs Jones snipped the parcel tape on her twelfth package of the afternoon and neatly pressed the gummed address label onto it. ‘Poor Rhett’s clean out of his mind and now it’s affected the sergeant’s wife.’

‘Really, I hadn’t heard that?’

‘Oh yes. Jimmy went round to ask if anyone had reported a dog missing, took the blasted thing with him, and the sergeant’s wife was doing her bit of dusting and that in the office – when lo and behold she collapsed against the counter and they had to get her to bed. Incoherent, she was. Drip white. Her eyes rolling all over the place. They say her hair stood on end, like she’d been electrocuted, but I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Still in bed and won’t talk. The sergeant did think of sending for the rector but when he mentioned it he thought she was going to strangle him.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes.’ Mrs Jones selected another jar of Harriet’s Country Cousin Apricot Chutney from the shelves. ‘This is going well; we’ll soon be needing some more. Will I ring her that makes it, or will you?’

‘You can.’

Mrs Jones nodded her agreement. ‘So, she won’t hear of the rector going to see her, hysterics she ’as if his name’s even mentioned. Rhett’s started sitting in the church which is a first for him, I don’t mind telling you, and Vera’s gone out and bought him a cross of his own so the rector can have his back again. Said she felt a complete fool buying a cross, but it seemed the only way to give Rhett peace of mind. I tell you, Mr Charter-Plackett, there’s more in this than meets the eye.’

‘Such as?’ Jimbo took a huge bite out of his lunchtime pork pie, and looked up expectantly at her.

Mrs Jones settled herself on Sadie’s old chair, pushed a strand of hair back into place and told Jimbo what she thought. He hadn’t imagined when he’d taken her on all of three weeks ago that he would find such satisfaction in talking to her. She was a window on the village in a way that Sadie could never have been. She had her finger on the pulse.

‘Well, Rhett won’t tell the rector why he’s so upset. Refuses point blank. The rector’s tried and no mistake but to no avail. But whatever it is, the sergeant’s wife is affected the same way, isn’t she? One sighting of that blasted dog and they’re off their heads. Nothing could be more out of character than Rhett Wright going about with a cross round his neck and sitting in church. I mean, all this because of that dog. Now, where has it come from, eh? Answer me that.’

‘A stray, that’s all, just a coincidence.’

Mrs Jones glanced around the mail-order office as though expecting someone who shouldn’t to appear from behind the boxes. ‘Well, there’s more than me think it’s from the devil. Why should a dog cause such an upset otherwise?’

‘I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it and we’re not behaving oddly.’

‘No, you’ve a point there, but couple it with lights in Sykes Wood in the night and what have you got?’

‘Badger-watchers?’

‘No! Badger-watchers?’ Mrs Jones snorted derisively. ‘No way. No, this is something more sinister.’

‘Such as?’

‘Sykes the dog, Sykes Wood – there’s the connection, you see. He was buried there, wasn’t he?’

‘Mr Charter-Plackett! Can you come, please? The rep’s here you were expecting.’ It was Linda calling from the Store.

Jimbo left Mrs Jones to her parcels. There were times when the villagers’ logic completely baffled him and this was one of them.

Peter had already called to see the sergeant’s wife but she had adamantly refused to meet him. The sergeant had leaned his elbow on the station counter and confided in him.

‘You see the thing is, Rector, I know you won’t take this any further,’ Peter had agreed he wouldn’t; of course not. ‘I thought, well, I thought she’d got another man. She suddenly started going out late at night, ’bout once a week, like. At first she told me it was the drama society. Well, I knew different. I mean, who’d want my Ellie on a stage? There weren’t no rehearsals, neither. And you don’t rehearse for a play at midnight, do yer?’

‘Indeed not.’

‘I asked her straight out one night. I said, “Ellie, what you doin’ coming ’ome this time o’ the mornin’? Have you got yourself another man?” “What if I have. You mind yer own business,” she said. “I’ve slaved for you all these years and now I’m having a bit of life of my own.” I tried all ways – police techniques and that I learned at Hendon once when I went on a course, but to no avail. Now she’s bedridden. Can’t speak, and near throttles me if I mention getting help. Women! There’s no weighing ’em up is there, sir?’

‘It can be difficult. The dog upset her then?’

‘Oh yes. Didn’t bite her nor nothing. She just took one look and she hasn’t spoken since.’

‘Has anyone laid claim to it?’

‘No, and there ain’t going to
be
nobody coming to claim it. Had a fax from Culworth yesterday. Turns out it was in a car what was involved in that massive smash-up on the by-pass that Saturday tea-time. It escaped completely unhurt, which considering its owners were squashed to a pulp is nothing short of a miracle. Vicar and his wife from up North travelling back off their ’olidays, perhaps that accounts for ’is liking of going into the church. Anyways no one noticed it running off, and the relatives never gave it a thought, they was that upset yer see, then they remembered it but they don’t want it, and they’re glad it ’as a good ’ome. But it ain’t no good me telling our Ellie that. She says she knows whose it is, it’s Jimmy’s Sykes and there ain’t no one who can persuade her different. So now we know where it came from, but it’s still frightening. Seems too much of a coincidence, both dogs being so alike.’

Peter didn’t take him up on this idea; everyone was quite superstitious enough without him encouraging them. ‘Is Ellie eating?’

‘Well, she is now. Spends most of her time moaning under the bedclothes, but she will eat so long as it’s under the covers like. Won’t have the light turned off at night, though. I can’t go on like this. Hospital it is, if there’s no improvement.’

‘If she decides she wants to see me, ring me any time – night or day.’

‘Well, that’s very generous of you, Rector. I’ll do what you say. This isn’t like my Ellie at all. Not at all.’ He lifted up the flap on the counter and came out to see Peter to the door. ‘Be retiring soon. Police house goes with the job. Be moving away.’

‘That’s a pity.’

‘Might be for the best, all things considered.’

Peter had waved and driven away, puzzling about the whole situation. The village was getting very twitchy about Jimmy’s dog. Everyone appeared affected by its arrival. Yet the dog seemed harmless enough. Nice little thing, very friendly. Quiet as a mouse in church on Sunday. Bit unorthodox allowing him to stay. But poor Ellie! Poor Rhett! Being jobless at sixteen couldn’t be much fun. Peter had wondered who might possibly employ him. As he’d turned up Pipe and Nook Lane to put the car in the garage he thought of the Big House and the grounds. Surely
they
might be able to find him work, even if it was only part-time. He did a U-turn immediately and drove straight up to the Big House.

As he’d expected, Louise was at the reception desk.

‘Good morning, Louise.’

‘Good morning, Rector.’ There was no longer a hint of the constraint in her voice which had been present ever since her misguided predilection for him. ‘What a lovely surprise! What can I do for you?’

‘I’m looking for Jeremy.’

‘He’s here, I’ll give him a buzz. Do sit down if you wish. He won’t be long.’