‘
Touché
.’ He stood looking down at her, and she looked back at him . . . there was raspberry jam at the corner of his mouth and he couldn’t work out his next move, she could see that, and it made him look particularly vulnerable. At that moment Beth loved him.
‘Best sit down and finish your toast, then you can go. How will you get home?’
Jake glanced at his watch. ‘Teatime bus.’
‘There’s a seat by the bus stop; you can wait there. It’ll only be an hour and a bit.’ She looked out of the window at the lowering clouds. ‘It looks like rain.’
‘I see.’ Jake wondered what had happened to his charisma. It had never been so devastatingly unappealing to a girl before. ‘I do apologise, Beth. I’m very sorry for what I did. It was unforgivable and you deserve more consideration on my part. I am truly sorry.’
‘Is there anything else you need to apologise for?’
Jake’s heart leapt with shock. Surely not Janey, too? He shrugged and said cautiously. ‘Nothing . . . that I know of.’ His reply seemed to satisfy her.
To Beth he appeared truly humbled. All her instincts told her to kiss him to relieve him of his guilt, but something her dad had said held her back. Instead she got a piece of kitchen roll and wiped the jam from the corner of his mouth. She was so close she could smell the smell boys have after a day at school, and as she looked deeply into his eyes for one long moment, she realised he wasn’t a boy like Alex was a boy. Jake was a man and, for a split second, she recognised, as Alex had said, you supped with the devil at your peril. But living dangerously had great appeal right now. Those dark eyes with their tigerish glints . . . Oh God! She almost moved to kiss him, but drew back just in time.
‘Time to go. Thanks for the apology.’
‘Be seeing you?’
Beth shrugged.
‘If I called at the weekend perhaps we could go for a cycle ride?’
‘Saturday is Dad’s day off and we’re all going out for the day, so it’ll have to be Sunday afternoon.’ Having resigned herself to being a daughter of a member of the clergy once again, she added, ‘Church in the morning, you see.’ She pulled a face.
‘Ah! I’ll come at half past two?’
‘OK.’
Beth shut the door behind him and found herself crying, though she didn’t know why. She slammed round the kitchen, tidying up and sniffing back the tears, then picked up her school bag and raced upstairs to begin her prep. She wished her mother was home so she could talk to her. She wished she’d kissed him, then was glad she hadn’t.
Apparently it was called being in charge but it didn’t feel quite the right place to be at the moment.
But Jake arrived at the morning service just before it began. He squeezed into the Rectory pew, thanking Caroline for moving her legs so he could get past her to sit next to Beth. He took hold of Beth’s hand, kissed her fingers and smiled at her. Alex signalled vomiting was the order of the day, but Beth gripped Jake’s hand as though she would never let it go.
She was oblivious to the nudging and winking that went on in the congregation behind her at the sight of Jake turning up in the Rectory pew again, and the kiss he gave her hand did not go unnoticed. Bless her! they all thought. She’s growing up and not half. But a chap from Penny Fawcett? They all collectively despised villagers from there, they weren’t a patch on Turnham Malpas people, they weren’t. Even Little Derehams was not much better. Still, if Beth liked him . . . A plus was that he did know how to behave in church. He never made a slip with his order of service, and his singing voice sounded good. The women in the congregation thought him handsome and really very attractive, but the men guessed he might be a bit of a devil . . .
Caroline played her part by inviting him for lunch, which he gratefully accepted. Peter was pleased to see him and they had a lovely time chatting about this and that, school and gap years, exams and university, and the world in general.
After helping Caroline to clear up, Jake and Beth set off for their bicycle ride, deciding to go as far as Little Derehams to visit the medieval prison Mr Fitch had restored and which was open on Sundays for inspection from two until four o’clock.
‘Do you know, I’ve lived in Penny Fawcett for two years and never been to see it?’
‘Shame on you. It won’t take long. It’s tiny but very atmospheric. Three people were hanged, drawn and quartered at the crossroads there. Harrowing really, just the thought of it.’
Sitting on a chair outside the medieval prison was Sheila Bissett. ‘Hello, you two. Saw you in church this morning, Jake. Nice to see you there. Have a leaflet. You’re my first customers today.’
‘I didn’t know you were involved in this,’ said Beth, waving her hand at the prison building.
‘Oh, I’m a casual. The two in charge are both away on holiday so I volunteer when that happens. I love it. Cruel times, but still we have our religious freedom because of people like these who died for it.’ She smiled up at Jake and pushed open the door with her foot. ‘Please go in. There’s room, just.’
It scarcely measured six feet by four. A tiny barred window without glass almost at the peak of the roof was the only source of light, and with the door closed it was gloomy inside.
‘Hardly room to lie down, is there?’
‘Not for us, perhaps, but people were smaller then.’
Jake took hold of Beth’s hand and she didn’t object. ‘I wonder if they were provided with a blanket or anything?’
‘Read the leaflet.’
Jake held it up close to the barred opening and read. ‘Open the door; the old bucket they used as a lavatory is still here.’
‘Oh!’ She pushed the door ajar and there it was chained to the wall, made of leather and looking incredibly ancient. ‘Do you suppose it’s the original one or one made for effect?’
Jake muttered, ‘Close the door.’ Then he promptly took her in his arms and kissed her. She made no objection and welcomed his closeness with a stirring of desire that thrilled him. This was the real Beth, the loving, sweet, beautiful Beth, and his feelings for her roared through his body, till Beth pushed him off and hastily opened the door.
‘Thank you for being here to let us in,’ she said to Sheila. ‘It’s very real in there with the door shut. Will you show Jake the key? You know, the real one they found in the ruins when it was restored?’
Beside her chair lay Sheila’s well-known shopping basket and in it, in a leather pouch, was the key. For such a tiny building the key was huge and heavy, easily as long as Jake’s hand.
‘It’s a very thick door, you see, made so’s not to let them out by chance.’
‘Thank you, Mrs—’
‘It’s Lady Sheila Bissett, Jake.’
‘Ah! Right. Thanks anyway. We must push on.’
Disappointed that Jake showed no sign of being interested in the key, nor in feeling anything grim about the little prison, Beth shivered as she stood her bike up and sat on the saddle. She pushed off without giving Jake a glance. ‘That place gives me the creeps.’
‘Nonsense. It’s just a heap of stones with a door. How can it give you the creeps?’
‘All that pain and unhappiness, and us kissing in there as if...’
‘As if?’
‘We haven’t a care in the world.’
‘Well, we haven’t, have we? Why should we allow ourselves to suffer for something that happened centuries ago? It wasn’t our fault. It’s history. You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Can’t you feel the pain and the fear? You can’t, can you? It means not a thing to you. Well, I’m going home now. Thanks for the ride. See you on the coach Monday.’
‘Don’t go yet, please . . .’
But Beth cycled off, leaving Jake puzzled. All he’d done was kiss her, and what was wrong with that? Man kissing a girl, a beautiful girl, who needed kissing lots and lots. Somehow he’d behaved below the standard she expected of him and she was disappointed. Or maybe he was too down-to-earth about the prison when she felt so badly about it. Still, Janey would have loved being kissed in that pokey little place. She’d find it a laugh, would Janey, kissing inside a prison. He laughed as he pedalled home, thinking that maybe she might be free right now and at the same time despising himself for looking forward to seeing her.
Beth was furious with herself. She’d discovered their apparent incompatibility this afternoon in the prison and she wasn’t the least bit pleased about it. At home Dad had disappeared into his study, Mum was in the sitting room reading the Sunday paper, and Alex, as usual on a Sunday afternoon, was in his room working. Well, Mum would have to listen to her.
‘Mum?’
Caroline put down the paper instantly. ‘Oh, good, someone to talk to. What have you to tell me?’
Beth wasn’t entirely sure what she had to tell her. ‘It’s funny, we went to see the old prison and it gave me the creeps like it always does, all those people waiting to be hanged, all waiting to die or, almost as bad, for transportation, but Jake was unmoved by it. Isn’t it odd when I like him so much?’
‘Not really. We’re all different. Even the people we dearly love can behave differently from what we expect.’
‘Even Dad?’
Caroline, thinking of his absence all day yesterday, nodded. ‘Even your dad.’
‘Like yesterday,’ Beth said, as if reading her mind. ‘Where had he been?’
‘He’s never said, and he may never tell me.’
Beth went to sit down. ‘Well, why don’t you demand an answer? After all, you are his wife.’
‘Because I know he doesn’t want to tell me. So I don’t ask.’
‘Is it because he’s a priest? Is that what stops you?’
‘No, it’s because he’s my husband.’
‘I’d like to know. I’ll ask him, shall I? Perhaps he’ll tell me.’ She stood up, ready to go to his study, but Caroline said, ‘No, Beth, don’t.’
‘But you want to know just as much as me. I will—’
‘
I said no
.’
Beth collapsed back on the sofa again. ‘If I was married to Jake and I wanted to know something
I’d
ask.’
‘Well, you’re not so . . . you’re not thinking on those lines already, are you?’
Beth laughed. ‘No. He likes me very much and he can’t get me out of his head, which is good news, but . . . I like him very, very much indeed, so very much, but I’m keeping him at arm’s length at the moment till I know better how I feel.’
‘He’s a good-looking boy—’
‘He’s a man, Mum, I’m sure about that. By comparison Alex is a little kid.’
This statement alarmed Caroline and before she could stop herself she blurted out, ‘What makes you say that?’
‘The way he kisses.’
‘Ah! Right. Perhaps it might be—’
At this important juncture Peter came in. ‘I’m going for a walk. Anyone want to come? I thought I’d drive to Penny Fawcett and walk that new ramblers’ footpath they’ve opened up. Considering the fuss they made about it, somebody’s got to make use of it. What do you say?’
‘I’ll come, darling, do me good. Beth?’
‘Sorry, prep. Bye-bye.’
She watched them from the kitchen window as Mum waited by the back gate for Dad to bring the car down from the garage. As Mum got in the car they paused for a moment for a kiss, which wasn’t just a little peck, and she wondered about them and kissing at their time of life. It always appeared to mean a lot because she could just see her dad’s hand caressing Mum’s shoulder as they kissed, and she loved the gentleness of his gesture . . . and heavens! They were
still
kissing, even though Mum wouldn’t ask him where he’d been yesterday, and he refused to tell her. So you could disagree about important things and still love each other. Their togetherness illustrated to her the complete security she enjoyed. Compared to Jake, with his mother’s fondness for any man going past the gate, she was the luckiest person alive. Poor Jake. The kindness in her heart brimmed over for him, and she couldn’t help but love him all over again.