Chapter 21

Hal’s Boots

 

 

‘Morning, Vicar. Nice day for the Victorian Festival. Aren’t you getting dressed up?’

‘Not this time, Jack.’

He wasn’t dressed in Victorian finery either, Cass noted. It was the Saturday before Christmas; less than a week to go until Christmas Day itself which was next Friday. Still Cass didn’t feel terribly festive, though the little town was trying its hardest, doors hung with holly wreaths and a sharp frost giving the cobbles an edge of glittering ice.

They had met on the old fish-quay, Jack had stopped to chat to one of his regulars who was selling roasted chestnuts on a stall next to Anna, and Cass was helping Anna by bringing her cases of jewellery down from Maidensbower Cottage for her. The square expanse of the quay was ringed with little wooden huts for the Victorian Christmas Market, decorated sheds that were halfway between beach huts and a German Christmas market. Anna was hanging the walls of the shed she had rented with some old red velvet curtains and she had decorated the outside with dark red and green velvet bunting and a wooden cut-out of two golden turtle doves crowned the apex of the roof.

Cass had brought down one of Anna’s cases and she lifted it onto the trestle table Anna had placed on one side of the hut, draped with more of the red velvet. She straightened up and stretched her back, which was already aching.

‘Going to the big concert tonight, Vicar?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes, I’m going. It’s important for the church to support village events. Will you be there?’

‘I’m providing the bar,’ Jack said with an air of importance. No show without Punch, Cass reflected – in fact, without two rival Punches, with Charles Dawnay arranging the performances and Jack Thorburn arranging the bar. Would they come to blows trying to outdo each other?  “That’s the way to do it!” she imagined Jack saying, aiming a string of sausages at his rival’s head, with Charles replying grandly: “No, I think you’ll find that’s the way to do it.”

But her imagination had run away with her. She wasn’t even listening to what Jack was saying; something about the running order for the concert, it would seem.

‘Is Hal performing?’ she asked with some trepidation when he had finished telling her about the Marilyn Monroe tribute act that they had booked for the concert.

Jack laughed his wheezy ex-smoker’s laugh.

‘Wondered if you were going to ask me that, Reverend. Taken a shine to our Hal, have you?’ Cass looked away, as if she had suddenly developed an overwhelming interest in the harbour wall.

‘No, I … it isn’t that … that’s not at all …’ she stuttered, not knowing what to say. She had to pull herself together! Jack Thorburn was just teasing her like he always did. ‘I do like his music,’ she said, ‘so I suppose you could say I had taken a shine to him – musically.’

‘Oh aye,’ Jack said knowingly. ‘Musically. Aye, that’s what it is.’

They approached Anna’s stall; Anna was strikingly beautiful in a Victorian bustle skirt with a tight corset bodice in black silk that made her waist look tiny. She wore her red velvet coat over the top with a holly leaf brooch and a feathered bonnet, decked with two little robins on top. She wore earrings and bracelets and beads from her own collection and her feet tapped on the icy cobbles in elegant black leather laced boots with little heels. Cass, on the other hand, had purposefully chosen the most sensible clothes she owned for a cold winter’s day on the quayside; a fleece under her mouldy old waterproof jacket, thick jeans and walking boots with a red woolly hat that came down nearly over her eyes.

She might lack Anna’s elegance but at least she was warm - though she could not suppress a sudden longing for a pair of pretty Victorian ankle boots and an elegant coat that didn’t smell of damp.

‘You’re looking bonny today, Anna Dawnay.’ It was as if Jack had been reading Cass’s mind. ‘A real sight for sore eyes.’

‘Thanks, Jack.’

Anna was busy laying out her wares now, the black of the jet gleaming against the lush red velvet.

‘And just you wait until you see our Hal in his costume. He’s selling mulled wine in the beer garden today. Right sight he looks too!’ Jack laughed that wheezy laugh again.

‘We’ll keep an eye out for him,’ Anna promised. ‘See you later, Jack!’

‘I wonder what Hal’s wearing?’ Anna said as they watched Jack stomping over towards the pub. Cass found herself picturing Hal in some tight-fitting Victorian trousers, looking like Mr. Darcy … She had to give herself a mental shake as she went back for the final case of jewellery to find that when she returned Anna had set up candelabras wreathed with holly and ivy to add the finishing touch to her stall.

It looked as beautiful as Anna herself did today and Hal was there, leaning casually up against the frame of the hut talking to Anna. She hadn’t seen him since the events of last weekend, he had been keeping away from her and she from him but it was inevitable that they would meet like this at some point. Cass froze on the spot. She couldn’t just walk over there now as if nothing was the matter, she couldn’t speak to him without making it obvious to all those around her – including her house mate - that something had happened.

Looking at him, tall and lithe against the doorframe, Cass felt her heart beating in her chest as if it wanted to beat its way right out. Hal was dressed like a Victorian fisherman, as if he had stepped out of one of the sepia photographs on the wall of the pub. The other Henry Thorburn. A blue knitted jumper the same shade as his eyes, a brown waistcoat and thigh length leather wading boots. She couldn’t stand there in the middle of the quay staring for much longer – she’d drop the heavy case if she had to hold onto it for too long.

Cass walked slowly so that he had time to notice her approach and walk away again – he must want to avoid her, surely, as much as she wanted to avoid him. He would surely be worried that she had told someone about what they had done on the night of the power cut – what they had nearly done, thank heavens it hadn’t gone any further than a soft touch on her breast, his lips on her neck … Oh Lord …

He turned around briefly, saw her, nodded in her direction as if nothing was wrong and turned back to Anna. She couldn’t go over and speak to him right now, she couldn’t face him yet. No matter what she had felt, no matter what was in her heart, she was still a vicar, and she should have put the needs of others before her own desires. Hal’s needs and Anna’s.

But it had felt so right at the time and she had wanted him so much; she still wanted him. Shit, what a mess!

She would make an excuse to Anna – she couldn’t help right now because she had to … she had to … phone the Rural Dean. That was it. An important phone call. She would go over there, leave the jewellery giving Hal no chance to say anything to her, make her excuses and leave. She would come back later to help Anna, when he had gone.

She didn’t even look at him directly, couldn’t bear to catch his eye and see disapproval or something even worse there – disdain, disgust, hatred. She looked at his boots as she put the box down. Oh Lord, those long, leather boots over his muscular thighs were distracting!

‘Got to dash – important Rural phone Dean. Call. Call the Rural phone. Rural Dean. Phone Call. Rural Dean. Now,’ She blabbered. ‘Back in a while.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Anna sounded concerned.

‘No. Nothing wrong, just … an ecumenical matter. Church stuff. Rural Dean, you know. Excuse me.’

She scuttled off, looking back over her shoulder briefly when she had reached a safe distance. Hal was looking after her quizzically. Not angry, not hostile, not appalled. What was going on? Wasn’t he as disgusted with her as she was with herself for how she had behaved? His words still rang in her mind. Nothing but “a cock for hire”, they made her flinch every time she remembered them.

Maybe it was Anna’s presence that was soothing him, Anna who needed him to take his brother’s place, the love that she had lost. In those Victorian costumes it was easy to see Polly Allinson and Henry Thorburn, ghosts of their forefathers … But Cass didn’t believe in ghosts, she reminded herself, though as she caught sight of herself in the mirror in her bedroom when she got back to the cottage she looked as pale as if she had seen one.

She did actually phone the Rural Dean, to tell her that everything was fine with her accommodation for now but that she hadn’t yet heard anything from the Diocesan Property Office or her own Parochial Church Council about a more long-term solution to the vicarage problem. She would have to do something herself soon; after her behaviour the other night she couldn’t rely on Hal’s kindness any longer. Hal. He filled her mind again, no matter how hard she tried to think of other things. Oh Lord, the sight of Hal in those long leather boots! She wondered if she should have a cold shower; that was meant to help in this kind of situation, wasn’t it? But there wasn’t time. She had promised to call in on a couple of parishioners who had a stall selling hand-knitted tea cosies and she had promised that she would help take over for a while from Anna so that she could have a break at lunchtime. Some nice, wholesome, hand-knitted tea-cosies would banish the image of Hal and his boots from her mind.

By now the quayside was bustling with Christmas shoppers, and Anna was busy but thankfully Hal was nowhere to be seen, probably at work selling mulled wine by now. Cass made her way around the market and eventually wound up back at Anna’s stall with a couple of cups of spiced coffee and some gingerbread Christmas trees.

‘How’s it going?’ she asked when there was enough of a lull to talk – the Christmas market was certainly busy; Cass had never seen so many people out and about in Old Rawscar, even in the height of summer.

‘It’s going well. I’ve sold a few things already. Thanks for the coffee,’ she said as she took a sip.

‘No problem.’ Cass also took a mouthful of the sweet, creamy coffee; the spices warming her through and the heat of the cup warming her hands.

‘Look, Cass, is something the matter today? You seem edgy,’ Anna asked.

‘No! Good lord no! Nothing’s the matter, nothing at all. It’s a busy time of year for us vicars, that’s all. A funeral to sort out this week as well as Christmas coming.’

‘Because if you ever need to talk, you’ve helped me, so I’m here, that’s all.’

She spoke with her usual quiet intensity, looking away to the crowds of shoppers as she said it, almost as if she was making the offer to one of the small group of women approaching the stall. It was as if she felt as awkward about offering as Cass would feel about accepting that offer. Well, perhaps not quite as awkward.

‘Thanks, Anna!’ she said, brightly, hoping that it would be an end of the conversation. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

Anna stopped to serve the women who each bought one of the ornate chandelier chokers that Anna had made, and Cass meditatively sipped her coffee. As Anna concluded the sale, Cass was about to ask her something polite about jewellery making, but Anna spoke first.

‘Because I did wonder if there was a problem with Hal. You seemed to be avoiding him this morning?’

Oh hell.

‘No, no problem with Hal. Nothing at all, no, nothing, not Hal, no problems, not at all,’ she said hurriedly.

‘And I did wonder if he’d maybe – ‘she began, but Cass was spared by another customer: ‘Yes, they are real Whitby jet, mostly older pieces that I’ve restrung into modern jewellery … Thirty pounds for the earrings … thank you, and a happy Christmas to you too!’

‘They’re selling well!’ Cass said, attempting to change the subject, but no such luck.

‘I did wonder if he’d - you know …’ Anna seemed to be struggling for the words ‘… behaved inappropriately. The other night. I heard that he’d walked you home in the power cut. I hope he didn’t …’

Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell!

‘No! Oh lord no, not at all. I’d had too much to drink and he saw me home. He didn’t do anything inappropriate. Nothing. No, nothing like that. Hal was a complete gentleman!’

Cass on the other hand had behaved like the whore of Babylon and treated him like a “cock for hire”.

‘Because you know he’s a bit of a playboy and I wouldn’t have put it past him -’

‘No, it was all fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing like that, nothing at all!’

This was ridiculous! Ridiculous and awkward and Cass didn’t know what she was doing. Talking about the most private and personal of subjects under the gaze of several dozen Christmas shoppers and the Mayor of Saddleton in his chain of office who sailed regally past the stall, smiling benignly at both of them.

‘If he’s done anything, anything at all, I’ll tell him,’ Anna hissed as she smiled back at the Mayor.

‘No. There’s really no need!’

Whereas Cass, on the other hand, had done everything wrong. Should she confess? No. Not here, not now. Another time, when they were alone without the mayor looking at them.

‘Look, Anna, why don’t you have your break now? It’s quietened down nicely and I’ll look after the stall for you.’

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course not!’ Cass breathed a sigh of relief that she had successfully steered the subject away from Hal.

Surely Anna would never have suspected a thing?