The Village Newcomers
Table of Contents
Also by Rebecca Shaw
Barleybridge Novels
A Country Affair
Country Wives
Country Lovers
Country Passions
One Hot Country Summer
Love in the Country
Country Wives
Country Lovers
Country Passions
One Hot Country Summer
Love in the Country
Turnham Malpas Novels
The New Rector
Talk of the Village
Village Matters
The Village Show
Village Secrets
Scandal in the Village
Village Gossip
Trouble in the Village
Village Dilemma
Intrigue in the Village
Whispers in the Village
A Village Feud
The Village Green Affair
Talk of the Village
Village Matters
The Village Show
Village Secrets
Scandal in the Village
Village Gossip
Trouble in the Village
Village Dilemma
Intrigue in the Village
Whispers in the Village
A Village Feud
The Village Green Affair
The Village Newcomers
REBECCA SHAW
Orion
AN ORION BOOKS EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Orion Books
This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books
Copyright © Rebecca Shaw 2010
The moral right of Rebecca Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
eISBN : 978 1 4091 0802 3
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The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
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INHABITANTS OF TURNHAM MALPAS
Chapter 1
Caroline heard the familiar bang of the front door that told her Peter was back from his prayers and his three-mile run.
‘I’m back! Going for a shower.’
He said the same words every single morning, and she wondered why, after twenty-seven years of marriage, he still felt the need to say it. But she still loved him as much, if not more, than the day they married, so, as far as she was concerned, he could carry on saying it until the end of time.
The breakfast table had everything it needed. Ah, no. Beth’s muesli. That was another thing that hadn’t changed over the years, although the brand was different. At the moment it was Jordans. Caroline smiled. She loved her twins more than life itself. As their grandmother frequently said, ‘They are such splendid children.’
The sound of rushing footsteps told her Alex was on his way. Never one for lazing in bed, he appeared in the kitchen at the speed of light, flung himself down on his chair and shook cornflakes briskly into his bowl until there was scarcely room for the milk.
‘What’s happening today, Mum?’
‘Anything you like. It’s the last day of the holidays, so it’s your choice.’
‘Oh, God. Sixth form tomorrow.’
‘I don’t believe you’re not looking forward to it. With results like yours they’ll be putting out the red carpet for you.’
‘Not just for me, as you well know. They’re all so competitive it takes some keeping up to. Getting down to work again will be hard. We’ve had such a good holiday. Best ever. We loved it in Greece, and being at home. Dad back?’
‘He is.’ Caroline sat down, poured herself coffee and began eating her cereal.
‘Is he free today?’
‘I don’t expect so, but he’ll be down shortly.’ They both heard the heavy thud of the morning post arriving through the letterbox.
Alex leapt up and went to the door. There was a pile of letters, mostly to do with Church, so he put those on his dad’s desk in his study and took the rest of them, bills and such, into the kitchen.
Curiously there was a letter for Beth and one for him, both addressed in the same unfamiliar handwriting.
His mum began opening the bills and Alex tore open his own envelope, unfolded the sheets of notepaper and looked at the signature at the end. ‘
With love from your mother
’, it said. He knew he should fold it up and read it later, on his own in his bedroom where his mum couldn’t see, but he was so torn to pieces by the very first letter he’d had from his birth mother in all his sixteen years that he immediately wanted to see what she’d written. In his excited state of mind he knocked his spoon out of his bowl, spinning cornflakes and milk on to the cloth and down his pyjamas.
With love from your mother
’, it said. He knew he should fold it up and read it later, on his own in his bedroom where his mum couldn’t see, but he was so torn to pieces by the very first letter he’d had from his birth mother in all his sixteen years that he immediately wanted to see what she’d written. In his excited state of mind he knocked his spoon out of his bowl, spinning cornflakes and milk on to the cloth and down his pyjamas.
‘Blast!’ He rushed to get some kitchen roll, dropped the letter on the floor and swore as the cold milk soaked through to his chest.
‘Alex! Please!’ Caroline bent down to pick up his letter and a cold chill circled her heart. The handwriting was a blast from the past and she couldn’t think . . . She put the letter on the table and allowed her mind to wander. Whose writing could it be?
Alex, having cleared up the mess he’d made, sat back down, first carefully putting his letter under his chair cushion, and carried on eating as though nothing had happened. The letter would have to wait.
Peter came down, showered, shaved and dressed for the day in his cassock with his silver cross tucked into his leather belt, his strawberry-blond hair still damp, his face glowing with health and peace of mind.
‘It’s a Church day then, Dad?’
‘It is, otherwise I’d spend it with you. I’ve got Penny Fawcett market day first as it’s Monday, and then on into Culworth for a meeting at the Abbey, lunch with them all and hospital visiting afterwards.’
‘You couldn’t take Beth and me into Culworth, could you? We’d come back on the bus.’
‘Of course, and what’s more I’ll give you twenty pounds to spend seeing as it’s your last day. Save me time if you come to the market with me, though; then we can go straight to Culworth on the bypass.’
‘Done. I’ll go and tell Beth to get up.’ As casually as he could, Alex surreptitiously picked up Beth’s letter, took his own from under his chair cushion and went upstairs.
Caroline said nothing until she’d taken Peter’s boiled egg from the pan. After she’d sat down she looked hard at Peter, wondering whether or not to tell him what she suspected. He preferred openness so she decided to tell him. Her anxiety made the news burst out of her in a rush.
‘I think the children have had a letter each from their mother.’
‘From their . . . You mean Suzy Meadows?’
She nodded.
‘I see.’
‘Alex has taken both letters upstairs. He checked the signature on his, then folded it and never read it. I expect they’re both reading them right now.’
Peter took the top off his egg and then put the spoon down. ‘I see. What makes you so sure?’
‘Because when Alex looked at the signature he was so upset he spilt cereal and milk on the cloth and himself, and the letter fell to the floor. I picked it up and put it back on the table, but he seemed to think I hadn’t noticed. I couldn’t recall whose writing it was, and then I remembered. I’m sure I’m right, otherwise why would he be so secretive?’
The old wounds opened up for Caroline, but she had to credit Peter with his discretion; he never said ‘Suzy’ but always ‘Suzy Meadows’, as though to put a distance between them. But it wasn’t Meadows any more. Having remarried, she was now Suzy Palmer.
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