Casting Samson (18 page)

“Aah!”

“What is it?”

“My ankle. I think I must have sprained it.”

“Oh. Perhaps you’d better ride back—”

“No! No, it’ll be okay, I think, as long as I can lean on you, Debs.”

By the time Deborah and Bernard reached the green, dragging Murphy behind them, there was a definite carnival atmosphere. The band was playing merrily, and a number of street vendors had appeared as if by magic. A group of Guides came up to make a fuss of Murphy, and Deborah persuaded them to take the horse back to the Happy Landings while she helped Bernard to his room at the Dog and Sardine.

They arrived just as Kylie came out of the front door of the pub with Spike. Debs knew he’d recognised her, and she was sure Kylie would lose no time in telling him that she and Bernard had been drinking together last night, and once he’d passed that little snippet on to Josh…

A sense of hopelessness settled over her. “Oh, what does it matter, it’s too late now anyway.”

“Did you say something?”

Stifling her unhappiness, Deborah shook her head. “No, Bernard. Let’s get you up to your room.”

They struggled up the stairs, Bernard clenching his teeth and wincing occasionally, but finally they reached his room. As he fell back on the bed, his arm tightened about Deborah and he pulled her down on top of him.

She struggled to avoid his kiss, pushing herself out of his embrace.

“I thought you were in pain!” she snapped, smoothing down her tangled hair.

“I am, but I just got carried away.”

“Huh! I’d better go and find out what’s happening. Do you want me to ring for a doctor first?”

Bernard gave her a brave smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay if I rest for a bit.”

“Okay. See you later then—”

“Debs?”

She paused in the doorway.

“I meant what I said. I really do want you to come back with me. It would be different this time, love, I promise.”

She backed away. “I—um—I’ve got to go!”

She whisked herself down the stairs and out into the sunshine, where she took a moment to sit on the low stone wall of the pub garden, trying to bring some order to the chaos in her brain.

***

Lord Andrew flung himself from his horse and strode into the manor house, regardless of the mud still clinging to his boots. His steward was waiting for him in the great hall.

“Edwin—how is my wife?” He spoke gruffly, pulling off his gloves.

The servant bowed. “Lady Maude lives, sir. She has been asking for you.” He glanced quickly at his lord, then looked away. “She is in the west chamber—it was her wish.”

Without a word Andrew hurried to the bedchamber, where the air was sickly sweet with the smell of juniper branches burning in the hearth. Maude lay pale and still in the great bed, but as her husband opened the door she turned her face towards him, summoning a weak smile.

“You are back, my lord.”

He crossed the room in two strides and clasped her cold hand in his huge paw. “Of course. When I heard you were ill, I came immediately.”

“You are very good.” She sighed. “You have always been very good to me.”

She began to cough, wincing as spasms of pain tore at her weakened frame.

“Hush, Maude. You must not tire yourself. Save your strength.”

A sudden shaft of evening sunlight filled the room, lighting up the glowing colours of the embroidered bedcover and turning to silver the fine streaks of grey in her thick dark hair. Maude turned her head away, narrowing her eyes against the light, but when Andrew ordered the window to be covered, she stopped him.

“No, please.” Her thin, clawlike fingers gripped his hand. “I asked them to carry me here. I can see the road from the window. You do not mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“I want to be ready, when he comes home.” She glanced shyly at her husband. “He will come, you know.”

Andrew bit his lip. He signed for the servants to leave the room.

“Maude,” he said gently, when they were alone, “we have heard nothing of Hugo for night on thirty years—”

“He
will
come,” she repeated. “But I may not be here to greet him.” She struggled to sit up. “Andrew? Andrew, promise me—swear to me that when—when Hugo returns you will not shun him. He has done nothing wrong. He did not betray you, my lord.”

Andrew eased her back against the soft cushions, blinking away tears from his own eyes.

“I know it, my love. Rest now.”

Maude gazed at him, her hazel eyes straining to focus.

“Pray don’t be sad, Andrew. We have had a good life. God has blessed us with four healthy children. Be merciful to your brother when he comes.” She gave a sudden, sweet smile. “He will come back. You would tell me there has been no word, but I know, here.” She pushed her fist against her heart. “He
is
coming back.” She raised herself up, saying urgently, “I love you both, Andrew. You know that. There must be no quarrel between you. Promise me.”

“By my faith, madam, I swear it,” exclaimed Andrew, alarmed at her agitation.

For a full minute she stared at him. Then, as understanding dawned, she smiled and relaxed. She closed her eyes, the grip on his hand weakening.

“Thank you. I am tired now. Stay with me, love. I think I shall sleep now.”

***

When Deborah emerged from the garden of the Dog and Sardine, the green seemed full of strangers. Crowds were bad enough in London, but it was much worse that they were here, invading her usually quiet village.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

She looked round to see Andy approaching, Steve and a dark stranger just behind him. Andy kissed her cheek, and while Steve followed suit he pulled the stranger forward.

“This handsome hunk is Ryan.”

“Hi.” The hunk grinned and put his arm around her. “Since kissing seems to be the order of the day…”

As Ryan touched her lips lightly with his own, she heard Andy laugh.

“Careful, mate, she’s Josh’s bird.”

I wish.
Deborah found herself flushing under Andy’s knowing grin.

“Have you seen him then, Josh?” She tried to sound casual.

“Haven’t, actually, love. Not for a while. We’re just going for a beer. D’you want to come with us?”

“Thanks, but no. I’m part of the committee, so I’d better go and see what I can do to help.”

Steve took off his sunglasses and bent his serious gaze upon her, his fair hair falling forward over his eyes. “You look as if you could do with a break, love. Come and have a quick drink.”

“I don’t like crowds. Thanks for the offer, but I’d better not.” She tried to smile. “I might seek sanctuary up at the churchyard later. It’ll be quieter there.”

She watched them saunter off before turning to look for a familiar face amongst the crowds, eventually spotting the vicar’s black robes ahead of her.

“Reverend!” She ran up to him. “Where is everyone, Anne—Miss Babbacombe?”

The vicar regarded her with a faint, preoccupied smile.

“I couldn’t say. I think Godfrey and Clara went off to the First Aid Centre with a couple of the Scouts—nothing serious, just a cut lip and bloody nose, but one cannot be too careful. Anne may have gone to the village hall. Hilda Gresham and her helpers had arranged to bring all the clothes down from the Happy Landings to save everyone having to troop all that way back there.” He beamed at her. “Wasn’t that a good idea?”

“Yes, yes. Very good. I’ll—um—I’ll just go and see who’s at the hall, then.”

She wondered if Josh might still be there, but she found only Hilda Gresham packing costumes away.

“Hello, Deborah. Who’d have thought they could make such a mess, eh? There’s bits of costume everywhere. Were you looking for someone? Most of ’em have been in and changed now. I’m just trying to tidy up a bit in case we need to use the hall for the service tomorrow.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” Deborah collected up several discarded tea-towel headdresses.

“Thanks, dearie, it’s always so much quicker when there’s two of you, isn’t it?” Hilda chattered on. “Alan and the vicar were talking about putting on a pantomime at Christmas. If they decide to go ahead, I hope you’ll help out. We really need people like you, Deborah, reliable helpers who will muck in and get on with it. This has been such fun, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

And it
had
been fun, Deborah realised. She had enjoyed being part of the team, being needed, but who could say where she would be by Christmas?

Hilda’s chatter cut through her thoughts. “This pageant’s been a great success, hasn’t it, despite that little upset with the Scouts—and the set-to between Rita Tring and Yvonne, of course…” Hilda chuckled as she packed away the costumes. “And I thought young Josh looked particularly good as Samson, didn’t you? Such a nice young man. Pity he’s leaving.”

Deborah looked up. “Oh, so it’s definite, is it? I mean, he’s really going?”

“Oh yes, he’s got a new job. He was telling me all about it while I was rubbing in the baby oil—that’s what gave his skin that lovely sheen, you know. It was Josh’s idea. He told me it was a trick he picked up when he was with those strippers. And it worked a treat—he looked really good out there…”

“Yes, I know, but you said he’s got another job?”

“Yes. Alan’s offered him another job—very hush-hush at present of course, because the deal’s not signed, apparently, but he’s very excited about it. I think it must be one of Alan’s big hotels in Swindon, don’t you?”

Deborah felt the depression closing in again, but she tried to keep it out of her voice as she replied. “Probably. I mean, couldn’t expect him to stay in a small place like Moreton, could we?”

“No, that’s just what I thought. That boy’s going places, I said to myself. And good luck to him too.”

Yes, good luck to him.

Outside, the sun had driven off any lingering clouds and blazed down now from a glorious blue sky. The noise from the green was carried across on the breeze and Deborah stood for a moment, listening. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of strangers in the village, and she really did not want to be amongst them.

She slipped across the footbridge into the churchyard. At the front of the building one of the big wooden doors stood open, but there was builders’ tape across the entrance and a large red-and-white sign warning everyone to Keep Clear.

On the far side of the church, sheltered from the road, she sat down on the grass, leaning back against the great stone buttress. She closed her eyes. Sheer bliss to have time alone, but at the back of her mind was the knowledge that she had to make a decision. She had told her parents she would be going back to London, and Bernard was offering her an easy way to do it. All she had to do was pack a bag and she could be in the city tonight. Simple.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Her eyes flew open. Josh was standing before her, grinning. Her heart lifted, almost flipped over at the sight of him. He’d swapped his costume for a pair of combat trousers and a tight-fitting sleeveless top.

He threw himself down beside her on the grass. “Phew, what a day. I’m exhausted. I thought at one point the whole thing was going to fall apart, but everyone seems to have had a good time—well, nearly everyone. Alan’s really pleased at the number of people who turned up.” He turned his head to look at her. “Only problem is we haven’t had a moment together since I got back from Reading.”

“I—I thought you might be with Spike and the others.”

“No. Spike’s probably tied up with Kylie. And Steve and Andy are back together again now, so I wouldn’t want to play gooseberry.” He grinned at her. “It was Andy who said I might find you here.” He reached out one hand to stroke her cheek.

Deborah felt her heart pounding. He was going to kiss her, she knew it. And would he then tell her that he was leaving? She couldn’t bear the thought of that. Neither could she bring herself to tackle him about why he had told Alan about her father’s need to sell the restaurant. It was too late now, anyway. It couldn’t change anything. She drew away slightly. Perhaps she should give him the same speech she’d given her parents—get it in quickly. But Josh was speaking again.

“I haven’t told you about Alan’s offer, have I? Though I expect you already know…”

“Yes, actually.
Everyone
seems to know about it.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting a bit distant? You’re pissed off because I didn’t tell you personally? Sorry, Debs, but it’s just so fantastic I really didn’t want to tell you over the phone, and last night when I rang—”

“Yes, I was out.” This was her chance. “With Bernard. He—he came down from London specially to, um—ask me to go back with him.”

Josh sat up. “You’re not going—surely you’re not even
thinking
about it!”

With his dark eyes fixed on her, she found the words would not come. They died in a strangled sigh in her throat. Go on, she told herself crossly, tell him now. “I—I thought I might go back to the city, get another job, you know, pick up my career again.”

“Pick up your—! Debs, I thought—”

“Deborah!” A shout interrupted him.

“For Christ’s sake, who’s that now?” Josh exclaimed.

“It’s Bernard.” She sat up as he strolled into view. “And his ankle seems to have recovered remarkably quickly.”

“So there you are. Someone said they’d seen you coming this way.” He’d changed into a pair of grey chinos and a pale lemon shirt. He’d also washed the river mud from his hair, which now gleamed palely in the sunlight. “I came to find you. We’ll have to be getting back to town in a while, and you’ll need to pack.”

She blushed vividly and glanced at Josh, but he was picking daisies out of the short grass and not looking at her.

“Bernard, I never said—”

“You didn’t need to, love.” He was smiling, complacent. “And you know the job offer is too good to miss. You’d find it hard to get a better deal in London.”

Deborah bit her lip. He was right, of course. The sun, which had been shining benevolently on them, disappeared behind a small cloud, and in that brief moment Deborah considered her choices. Her parents were leaving Moreton, and so was Josh. She would have to find another place to live, and Bernard’s offer was tempting—to go back to what she knew, the familiar places and people. The alternative was to start from scratch again, and she remembered how hard she had found it first time round, finding somewhere decent to live that she could afford, getting a new job, making friends—in her heart she dreaded being alone. Slowly she rose to her feet.