2

Berdie could scarcely believe that Hugh would be leaving to fetch the village children in less than ten minutes. The picnic, despite the incident and uneasiness that followed, had lasted far longer than planned, with not a word spoken of the episode. Berdie put it down to a bit of shock. Now the late afternoon became a scramble.

She placed fresh linen in the airing cupboard, reserving two fresh white pillowcases, and turned to enter the master bedroom where she could hear the blow dryer emanating its ferocious clamor. Hugh had apparently already finished his shower.

Berdie entered the bedroom. “That was quick,” she quipped to Hugh, who stood handsomely in gray trousers and a crisp shirt with clerical collar, styling his hair with blow dryer in hand.

“What’s that?” he yelled.

Berdie just shook her head and closed the door. She wanted to ask Hugh what he knew concerning the confrontation that had taken place at the picnic. But certainly not when trying to compete with the blow dryer, especially since the commander’s guest room was one door down.

At the same moment Berdie began to change a pillowcase, Hugh put the hairbrush on the chest next him, took a final look in the gold-framed mirror, and turned off the deafening implement.

Berdie wasn’t sure how to approach him, but she decided to just come out with it. “Hugh, that was a rancorous display today. Do you have any idea what the problem is between Chad and the commander?”

Hugh cleared his throat as he ran a finger over his silver-white hair. “Is it really for you to know?”

Berdie held the pillow against her body and moved closer to him. “Let me put it another way. Is there anything we can do to bring a resolution to Cedric and Chad’s conflict?”

“We?”

She watched Hugh’s left eyebrow rise, which meant her words had displeased him.

He turned toward her and looked her in the eye. “No matter how you put it, it’s between the two of them.” Hugh put his hands on her shoulders. “Berdie, I know how you love to get everyone’s ducks in a row, but it’s their problem to sort.”

“Well, they don’t seem to be doing a very good job of it.”

Hugh turned back to the mirror and put the slightest touch of gentleman’s fragrance on his palms, then lightly tapped his lower jaw. “If one of them would just get past their pride and take the first step, they could work it out, I’m sure.”

“So you do know what’s between them.”

“Let it go, Berdie.”

There was a light rap at the bedroom door. Berdie stepped cross the gracious room and gently pulled the door open.

“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Elliott,” Cedric apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, that’s fine, Commander.”

“I was hoping to speak with Hugh.”

“Of course, Cedric.” Hugh gave Berdie a nod that said, “We’re done with this particular conversation,” which she alone could understand.

“Can I have a word with you out here?” Cedric stood solidly in the hallway.

“Of course.” Hugh moved to the door and out, but kept the door slightly ajar.

Berdie glanced out the bedroom window that faced the back garden. Doug was sunning himself, relaxed in his wheelchair, a lime cordial in one hand whilst petting Sparks with the other. He carried on a conversation with the large and extremely-capable-of-fixing-anything Mr. Braunhoff, who worked at escape-proofing Sparks’s pen. Tillie was out. She had gone to Bearden’s Creamery, after trying every possible means of convincing her father he needed to come with her. But Doug begged off, saying the picnic had taken the best of his energy. So she promised him his favorite ice cream, strawberry, and nothing but organic, if he agreed to take a nap. He had assured her he would do, but it looked as if relaxing in the back garden suited him best at the moment.

The house was rather quiet for once. Berdie wanted to be respectful of Cedric’s privacy, and at the same time she could just make out the commander’s words.

“Hugh, I’m terribly sorry for the goings-on at the picnic. I feel such regret, yet I feel justified at the same time.” His voice took on a slight tremor. “Chad’s life is in ruins, and my hand is behind it, but there’s little I can do now to change that.”

“Let’s go to your room, Cedric.”

By the sound of the footsteps and the closing of the guest-room door, they did just that.

“Chad’s life in ruins. At Cedric’s hand,” Berdie whispered to herself. She inattentively wrestled the pillow into the pillowcase. “Lord have mercy.”

Like an electronic bolt, the vicarage phone rang out its bleating rhythm and interrupted Berdie’s thoughts. Despite the telephone in the bedroom, she felt it more discreet to go downstairs to the hall phone. She threw the half-stuffed pillow on the bed and descended the stairs. “Vicarage,” she answered, louder than was prudent.

“I need the vicar. We need the vicar.” The voice wasn’t familiar as it wailed into Berdie’s ear with an urgent sense of panic.

Berdie could hear some kind of disruption happening in the background. “The vicar’s engaged in a weighty conversation at the moment.”

“I don’t care if he’s speaking with the bloomin’ queen—get him to the phone.”

Berdie thought she heard shouting.

“We need him,” the caller yelled, fright in the voice.

“Yes, please be patient. I’ll fetch him.”

Berdie ascended the stairs with a slight panic of her own. She didn’t like the idea of Hugh possibly putting himself in harm’s way. She knew him capable of looking after himself, but she didn’t like it. Berdie rapped on Cedric’s door. “Hugh,” she called, “so sorry to disturb. There’s an urgent call.”

The door sprang open. “Berdie, we’re in a serious conversation.” Hugh lowered his voice. “And I’ve got to fetch the children in five minutes.”

“I know, but the caller’s insistent.”

“Who is it?”

Berdie shrugged. “They’re in great distress, and sound desperate.”

Hugh turned to his guest. “I’m sorry, Cedric. Can we continue our conversation later this evening?”

Cedric’s voice was calm. “Yes, of course, Hugh. Tend to your flock.”

Hugh all but ran down the stairs, Berdie on his heels. And mid-stride, the doorbell rang.

“Not more angels, please.” Berdie whisked past Hugh, who was now at the phone, and flung open the door.

“You’ve got a delivery, yeah?” Mr. Raheem’s young nephew stood at the door, his dark eyes cautious. “Yeah?” he repeated in his London accent with a Punjabi twist.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Sundeep.”

She tried to half listen to Hugh’s conversation on the phone. Something about imminent need.

The fellow stared at Berdie. “Put it where?” He shook the box.

Berdie pulled herself back to the delivery. “In the kitchen.” She pointed down the hallway to the intended room.

Sundeep entered the hall. He started as Hugh shouted into the phone, “Calm down and tell me where you are.”

“Something horrible could happen. We need you.” The terrified shout filled the hall.

“Blimey.” The young man raised a brow. “Is your husband a vicar or a policeman? My uncle told me I left this kind of craziness behind in London. Really? And this a country vicarage and all.”

“They just need Hugh’s help.” Berdie decided getting the London lad away from the conversation was probably a good idea. “Come along, Sundeep, I’ll show you into the kitchen.” She waved her hand for the young man to follow her.

Once in the kitchen, Berdie heard the plodding of what she assumed was Cedric making his way down the stairs to the front hall from his bedroom.

“There.” Berdie pointed to the sink counter. “I’ll sort it later.”

Sundeep slapped it down. His thick black hair played with the edges of his eyebrows. “Two boxes, yeah?”

“Two boxes? Oh, yes, it was a big order.”

“I’ll just fetch the other one then.”

“I’ll walk you back to the door.”

Sundeep was a new arrival to the village, currently living with the Raheems. She sincerely hoped the young man wouldn’t form an opinion that this pleasant home was a bit madcap. Although at the moment, perhaps it was.

When they reached the front door, Hugh was off the phone. He and Cedric looked to be in concerned conversation.

“I realize it’s a bit of a cheek.” Hugh was flushed. “But seeing as you’ve gone with me the past three days and know the way…”

“Think nothing of it, dear man. I’d be glad to do it,” Cedric said.

Sundeep glanced at the commander and then opened the front door. “Van’s just here,” he said to Berdie and stepped out.

She could see the delivery vehicle with the crisp green letters Raheem’s Greengrocer painted on the side. She also observed another vehicle park right behind it. A woman and two small children exited the well-worn hatchback and quickly made way to her door.

When will it stop? Berdie realized her bedroom moment of reflection was short lived.

She recognized the female, who looked to be grandmother to the two young children. She had visited church last Sunday and brought the little ones with her. What was her name? She introduced herself and said she was new to the area. Mrs. Limb, yes. Berdie remembered how she thought at the time that the visitor’s gray hair, pulled into a rather severe topknot, only embellished her somewhat angular body movement and made the dear woman appear stiff and rather wooden. Ah, yes, Mrs. Limb.

Hugh came alongside at the open door. “Our car keys, please.”

Berdie dug into her pocket and dropped them into his open palm. “Be careful, Hugh.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry.”

Berdie ran her hand down his arm. “And the club children?”

“Cedric’s fetching them from school and will take them to St. Matthew’s in the people carrier. I’ll meet him there after.”

“And there’s plenty of petrol?”

“Over a half tank as of yesterday evening when I returned from St. Matthew’s. And it hasn’t been used at all today.”

“Ring me when you’ve finished your call and get to St. Matthew’s?”

Hugh nodded.

“God go with you.”

Hugh tipped his head to Mrs. Limb when they passed at the front step.

Berdie smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Limb. My husband has an urgent call he’s attending to.”

“I see.” The woman looked after Hugh. She seemed rushed and not at all relaxed, perhaps even more stiff than she had been Sunday. “Will the children still be going to Tea Time Club?”

“Yes.” Berdie glanced at the little boy, who held the petite girl’s hand. They looked very much to be brother and sister, both with similar features including large brown eyes. Berdie guessed the girl to be five or so and the little boy approaching seven. “Commander Royce will be taking them.”

“It’s just that Max and Emmy had a dentist appointment”—the woman’s jaw seemed to barely move when she spoke—“and I didn’t see the point of taking them back to the school first since the church was closer. I hope it’s not a problem.”

Berdie fumbled for words. “Well…no, not a problem.”

“Good. I’ll leave them in your care until they go. I must get on.”

“Bye, Nanna,” Max called to the departing woman. Emmy leaned against her brother and looked as if she would cry any moment.

“I’ll fetch you when you return from club.” She was already halfway to her car.

“My, Max and Emmy,” Berdie piped, “your nanna seems in a bit of hurry.”

Max nodded whilst his sister just stared at departing Nanna.

Berdie bent low to speak with them. “Now, Commander Royce is going to take you in the people carrier to the school where he will fetch the rest of your friends.”

“Tony will be there.” Max’s eyes grew bright.

“Your chum?”

Max nodded.

“Very good.” Berdie turned to see that Cedric had moved on. “Let’s go get aboard.”

As she and the children took first steps, Berdie noticed the opened door at the back of the delivery vehicle. Sundeep was undoubtedly trying to find the rest of her order.

She took Max’s hand. He still clung to Emmy, and they walked together toward the distant church vehicle.

“Pastor Elliott had to park the people carrier out on the edge of the church property yesterday evening, so it’s a bit of a walk.”

“Why?” Max asked.

“There were so many good things happening at church last night, we had bucket loads of people and their cars here. So he parked it out of the way.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a furry flash rushed past, then circled back. “Sparks,” she growled under her breath. He danced around Max and Emmy as if taunting them to chase after him and frolic about.

“Sparks is accompanying me to the vehicle.” Cedric came up to Berdie from behind. “He’s actually fine with children. He can ride along.”

“Can he?” Berdie worked at keeping her suspicious tone curbed.

“Are you going to the Tea Time Club?” Cedric asked the little ones.

They nodded. Emmy actually smiled. Berdie got the sense that the little one liked the commander, or more likely, his dog.

“This is Commander Royce,” Berdie introduced. “He’s driving today. Commander, this is Max and Emmy.”

“Well, Max and Emmy, come along with me and Sparks and be our first passengers,” Cedric coached.

Berdie had to trust Commander Royce’s assessment of the dog’s temperate nature with young ones. Sparks actually seemed pleased to be in their company, she had to admit. She released Max’s hand. He and Emmy gladly walked onward with the commander, Sparks appearing delighted.

Berdie turned to make determined steps back to the house where fruit and veg, still on her sink counter, had to be sorted. Then there was the evening meal to prepare for seven, including ever-faithful pen-mender, Mr. Braunhoff, and his wife, Barbara, who was to arrive any moment. Barbara Braunhoff was always a great help in the kitchen. It would have been for eight, but it appeared Chad wouldn’t be staying with them—and good thing too. She wondered how he was faring.

Her mind tumbled with Cedric’s words. Life in ruins, my hand behind it, nothing I can do. It sounded dreadful and the only help she could offer was prayer on their behalf.

“Wait.” Doug’s voice sounded out from the back garden. He straightened in his wheelchair; his arms gripped the handles. He seemed to be calling to Cedric.

“Mrs. Elliott,” Cedric cried out.

Berdie turned.

“Could you take the children for just a moment longer please?” Cedric had already sent the little ones moving toward her.

She squinted and peered. That daft dog had decided to rest itself right on the drive in front of the people carrier.

“Bother,” Berdie breathed. Cedric would now have to coax Sparks into the vehicle, and it would cost him valuable minutes. But why send the children back to her?

“Cedric, no,” Doug yelled.

Mr. Braunhoff halted his work on the enclosure and took stock of the goings-on.

Berdie could see Doug’s face was beetroot red, his eyes intent, as he ran his hand through his blond hair, then tried to maneuver his wheelchair across the back garden toward her.

Berdie took both Max and Emmy by the hand.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Doug.” Cedric’s voice sounded almost lyrical.

“Hurry, Berdie, quickly,” Doug yelled. “Keep moving.” There was alarm in his tone.

“Hurry?” Berdie walked toward the vicarage with the children, a slight increase in her pace. Why hurry?

“Cedric, don’t chance it. Please.” Doug’s voice trembled as he shot out the command.

“Don’t what?” Berdie asked herself as much as Doug.

“Down, Mrs. Elliott.” Doug’s eyes wide, his breathing was short and rapid for the toil of making his wheels go toward them as fast as he could manage.

“Down? What are you talking about?”

Berdie suddenly experienced a jolt to her body that propelled her to the ground with such force it left her breathless. A stab of pain coursed through her while the reverberation of full-on colliding trains penetrated her ears. The horrific ache that shot through her knees focused her senses as she tried to gather her thoughts. Grass etched itself into her cheek, making it itch. Then the smell of acrid smoke assaulted her nose. She worked to catch a breath of air. What’s happened?

Berdie became aware of a little head pressed against her waist as she lay stomach-down. She could hear sniffles. Working to rouse herself, she was cognizant of the fact that a small child was next her. Berdie placed her hand on the small back. “It’s OK, love.” Berdie lifted her head to see Max just beyond her, flat out on the grass, rubbing his eyes.

“Nanna?” he called.

“Max, you’re OK,” Berdie said in a voice she hoped didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt. Though her ears were ringing, it was then she became aware of that unmistakable sound: crackles of vigorous flame.

As she pulled herself up to a sitting position, she turned to look in the direction of the people carrier. Fire licked the vehicle; black char littered the bonnet. “Cedric?”

Mr. Braunhoff, who must have flown to the vehicle, fought against the flames to retrieve Commander Royce. It didn’t look good. Doug, several yards away from Berdie, had his cellphone to his ear. Sparks lay motionless on his side, still in front of the vehicle. Berdie felt a shiver cross her shoulders. As she took stock, shock was wrapping its fingers round her.

Emmy’s whimpers became a wail. Berdie instinctively took the child into her arms and brought her to her chest. Emmy wrapped her tiny arms around Berdie’s neck and buried her head in Berdie’s shoulder.

This was her most important task at the moment. Mr. Braunhoff and Doug were seeing to the disaster. She must comfort Emmy and Max even while working to pull herself together. They mustn’t see the vehicle.

She willed her body to rise. Her legs quivered, shortness of breath made her lungs labor, vertigo swirled her world into a blur, but she managed to get to her feet, bringing Emmy, who still gripped her neck fiercely, with her.

She staggered to Max, who was now on his knees, eyes wide with bewilderment. Berdie stood behind him. “I know you probably don’t feel so good, but is there anything that hurts terribly?”

He shook his head.

She reached down and pulled him up with her free hand, letting him rest momentarily against her legs. “Good lad, Max. Do you think you can walk OK?”

“I think so. What happened?”

“A big bang. Now, we’re going to go back to the vicarage.” Berdie continued to keep him in front of her, holding his hand, as she shielded him from the frightful scene behind them. “Let’s go get some nice hot tea.” Slowly, one step at a time, they moved forward.

“What a brave little soldier you are, Max.”

Emmy’s grip now made Berdie’s neck ache, her arm strength waned, and she used her hip to help carry the little girl’s weight.

Someone was running toward her. Berdie blinked.

“What’s happened?” Tillie’s words were breathless. Her hard grip of the ice-cream container turned her knuckles white. She looked over Berdie’s shoulder at the destruction.

“Tillie.”

“Where’s my father?” Her blonde hair swirled as she searched about. “What’s happened?”

“Cedric.” Berdie barely got the word out.

“Cedric?” Blood drained from Tillie’s face. “In there?”

Berdie gave a terse nod.

“No.” She scrutinized the flaming vehicle. “How did…?” Tillie dropped her container of ice cream and took off running toward the scene.

“Tillie,” Berdie heard Doug call out.

“Dad.” Her voice was shrill, filled with disbelief.

Berdie watched Tillie run to her father, fall down on her knees, and wrap her arms around him.

“Daddy, it’s the commander?”

Doug nodded. Tillie laid her head on his shoulder and hugged her father tightly.

“I tried to warn him.” Doug’s face was dark, eyes wet.

“Warn him?” Tillie took Doug by the shoulders. “How do you mean, warn him?”

Doug choked.

“Dad, I’m sure you did all you possibly could.” She stood and took in the sight. Shaking her head, she turned her gaze away and then released a loud sob. “I can’t believe…” She wiped her hand cross her eyes as if to push weeping, along with the fiery vision of what she had beheld, away. “This can’t be happening. We’ve got to get you away from this horrible mess.”

“But, Tillie.”

The young woman set her determined grip on the handles of the wheelchair and began to push Doug toward the back garden. “You know it’s best.”

Berdie felt her arm wanting to give way beneath Emmy’s weight when she became aware of a hand on her shoulder.

“Mrs. Elliott, let me help you.”

Berdie turned to see the imposing figure of Barbara Braunhoff and sighed.

“I just arrived.” Mrs. Braunhoff grasped whimpering Emmy in her sturdy arms and cradled her close to her shoulder. “There, there,” she purred and rocked Emmy, stroking her head.

Berdie let out a long, slow release of air. “Bless you, Barbara. Your husband is…”

“Yes, I see,” Barbara said.

Berdie still clung to Max’s hand and still shielded him with her body. “Max, Emmy, and I are going to have some hot, sweet tea at the vicarage.” Berdie raised her brows and nodded toward Max.

“Oh my, doesn’t that sound just the thing.”

“Aren’t we going to Tea Time Club?” Max’s question sounded so innocent amongst the rubble.

Berdie swallowed.

“We’ve a bit of a problem, love.” Mrs. Braunhoff’s deep voice was soft. She began to move forward, grasping Berdie’s elbow with her free hand, towing her with. “The sooner we get to the kitchen and get the kettle on, the better.”

Berdie moved along with Mrs. Braunhoff in mindless motion. She became aware she was almost squeezing Max’s hand. She eased her grip.

“Is the doggy coming with us?”

Max’s words brought an unexpected wetness to Berdie’s eyes.

“He’s taken up with other things at the moment,” Mrs. Braunhoff said. “Do you like sweet tea, Max?”

“Nanna sometimes fixes toast and honey to go with.”

“Now doesn’t that sound tasty.” Mrs. Braunhoff eyed Berdie. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Elliott?”

Berdie blinked and found the words. “You know, I believe I’ve got the very thing in my larder.”

“There, you see, Max? The very thing is in Mrs. Elliott’s larder. Doesn’t that sound grand?”

By the time they reached the back garden and opened the kitchen door, Berdie heard the we-wa of emergency vehicles.

Inside, she knew Doug and Tillie were heading upstairs when the sound of the electric stairlift, which Doug took to get there, hummed.

Despite cracks in the kitchen window above the sink, the children were seated at the small kitchen table away from any danger. Mrs. Braunhoff put the kettle on and chattered on to Max and Emmy, engaging them in as normal a dialogue as she could manage.

Berdie escaped momentarily to the sitting room where, in the quiet of the space, the hallway station clock’s rhythmic ticks revived a sense of unreal normalcy. She looked out the window to see Doc Honeywell’s old car whisk past. Dave Exton, the editor of the Kirkwood Gazette, dashed madly toward the scene, and she observed what she knew would happen sooner or later. People were gathering in the vicarage front garden, pointing, discussing, with hand-to-mouth astonishment. The moment she turned to go back to the kitchen, the front doorbell rang.

Dear Lord, give me strength. Instead of going to the door, she found herself sinking into a nearby armchair. In an instant she heard the front door open and someone enter.

“Berdie?” Lillie’s call sounded anxious.

“Here,” Berdie squeaked.

Lillie entered the sitting room, her eyes focused on Berdie. “I heard…”

Berdie wasn’t entirely sure what her face wore. She knew she was trying to sort what had happened, attempting to regain normal body function, whilst longing for Hugh. She looked at her friend and felt a wet trickle on her cheek.

“Berdie, my dear Berdie.” Lillie swooped to her and gave a gentle hug, then took the chair next to Berdie and placed her hand on Berdie’s own.

The warmth of Lillie’s hand was comforting against the shiver that crept across her body. Her shoulders relaxed, as if a favorite blanket had wrapped away the chill.

“Poor Cedric.” Berdie abruptly felt a dam burst within her. She brought her free hand to her mouth and tears began a trickle down her face.

The extra squeeze of Lillie’s hand upon hers brought reassurance of her friend’s care and understanding. She didn’t have to be a stoic force—she could be vulnerable at this moment and it would be OK.

Berdie removed her hand from her face and sniffed. She finally gave space for the thought that agitated the back of her mind to come forward into focus. She could barely speak it. “Lillie, it could have been Hugh.”