CHAPTER 16

Plenty Of Room At The Inn

 

 

‘There’s a storm coming, Vicar.’

Jack Thorburn sounded weather-wise and sage, like an old sea-dog casting a knowledgeable eye over the clouds on the horizon. It was rather spoiled by the fact that he was carrying a newspaper bearing the prominent headline “Storm Phoebe to attack Britain.”

Cass pulled her earphones out of her ears. ‘I know. I heard it on the radio.’

‘Bet you’re glad you’re not up on that cliff top now, Vicar. Down here in the village is much safer.’

‘I am glad indeed. Thanks for your concern, Jack.’

They had met on the quayside, Cass was on her way back to the cottage after a day up at the church office and administering some home communions and Jack was on his way into the pub, presumably to get ready for the evening’s trade.

‘They reckon that Widows’ Row might go over the cliffs tonight. Bloody council have done nowt. Should have had them down straight away, the minute they knew they weren’t safe. Two of our cottages up there, you know.’

‘I did know; Hal told me. That’s not good news, I’m sorry, Jack.’

‘Ay. Well.’

He seemed to be looking her up and down. ‘Seems our Hal has been talking to you about all sorts recently. You’ve not converted him to the God squad, have you?’ Behind Jack a wave broke into the air over the harbour wall with a smash of water.

‘I’m not trying to convert him and his concerns have more to do with my housemate I think, Jack.’

Cass would be glad to get back home; already she could taste the salt on her lips from the sea-spray in the air.

‘Oh, aye. Pretty lass, isn’t she, that Anna?’ He said with a knowing wink.

‘She is indeed,’ Cass said politely. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Twiggy will be waiting for her supper.’

‘Saw her this morning,’ Jack added, not moving.

‘Who, Twiggy? She shouldn’t have been out, I’ve been trying to keep her in the house.’

‘No, Anna Dawnay. Dressed up to the nines she was, one of them corset things on and some long skirt like something out of Downton Abbey. Very fetching, but a bit over-much for Rawscar at half past eight on a Saturday, I thought.’

‘She’s selling jewellery at a Christmas market over at Saddleton today, staying with a friend over there.’

‘Oh, another new boyfriend is it?’ he gave a wheezy laugh.

‘Not unless it’s a boy called Susannah,’ Cass said with a forced smile. She could feel her face freezing over.

‘Oh, her. Susannah Brand as was, got married to a man out Saddleton way, didn’t she?’ Jack nodded wisely, as if he expected her to know.

‘I expect so. Now, if you’ll excuse me?’

‘Don’t want to keep you from the Good Lord’s work, Vicar.’

It was more the Rayburn that Cass was intent on seeing right now she thought as she climbed up the little twisting yard. A few of the holiday cottages were occupied tonight; weekends in old Rawscar were busier than weekdays and it was good to see lights shining in windows that during the week were usually dark. No lights in Maidensbower right now though, because Anna was out. Even after only a couple of weeks sharing, Cass felt strange coming home to an empty house.

She hadn’t been sure if she would take to living in the cottage with Anna, but in the end Cass was already getting quite used to her, finding her company relatively undemanding. She kept herself to herself most of the time, much as Cass did. Neither of them liked to make a fuss – except of Twiggy, obviously, who had instantly wound her way into Anna’s affections, which couldn’t help but make Cass warm to the younger woman, though in every other way she seemed to be doing her best to make sure Cass kept her distance. It was quiet without her – though she didn’t exactly make much noise, it was still nice to know she was working away up in her studio and with the storm wind building up outside, the waves to be heard crashing over the harbour wall and the rain rattling on the window panes, Cass found herself wishing that Anna was there.

She put the radio on as she made her tea and listened to a programme about Verdi on Radio Three. It was a good excuse to sing as loudly as she wanted to so she let her voice soar to block out the sound of the storm. She was quite safe here in the middle of the ancient village, protected by the harbour wall, but this was the first storm since the cliff fall, and every unexplained noise, every creak, every bump, every howl of the wind had her on her feet to run upstairs to look out of the landing window down the yard towards the sea wall, where the waves were breaking. But it was dark and she could see nothing out at sea, only the lights of the houses down the yard. The light didn’t seem to reach very far tonight, each lamp was surrounded by an encroaching mass of darkness and the strings of Christmas lights were nothing more than tiny pinpricks of brightness buffeted by the wind.

She was over by the Rayburn when suddenly everything went dark except for the glow of the fire and the red and gold globe in the window. The music stopped and the fridge wound down into silence, no hum from the freezer, no ticking from the central heating timer. Had she blown a fuse? Where was the fuse box? Was she going to have to call on Graham with his encyclopaedic knowledge of the fuse boxes of Rawscar? June wouldn’t thank her for calling him out at seven o’clock on a Saturday night.

She fished her phone from out of her pocket and used its light to make her way to the window; she opened the curtains and looked down the yard. Everything was in darkness; the other houses, the streetlights and the Christmas decorations were all out. Power cut. At least the old Rayburn was oil powered with no electric timer and heat was still blasting out of it and she wouldn’t miss her supper. She stumbled up the stairs to fetch her silvered glass candlesticks from the upstairs windowsill and lit the candles on the middle of the kitchen table to provide herself with some light, and then she sat down to a romantic candlelit supper for one. Well, two if you counted Twiggy. In the darkness, the noise of the storm was relentless. She had put her plate to one side and poured herself a glass of wine to fortify herself against the storm when there came a knock on the front door. The anchor door-knocker was loud and commanding, and the suddenness of the noise made her jump: there was no ignoring a summons like that. It was probably one of her temporary holiday-cottage neighbours wanting to see if she knew anything about the power cut. She went to the door.

Windblown, cold, wet with the rain and the spray in the air, his face lit by the large torch that he carried, was Hal.

‘Hal! Come on in, don’t stand there in the cold!’ she bustled him into the cottage, sounding like someone’s mother.

She shut the door behind him, and took him through to the kitchen. They were alone in the dark cottage, lit only by the flickering flames of the candles on the table.

‘I wanted to make sure you were all right – Dad’s rung the electricity company, we’ll probably be out for a while, they reckon one of the main lines into the village has come down and they won’t be out to fix it until the weather settles down.’

‘How long do you reckon?’

‘Not ‘til the morning at least.’

‘Oh well. Never mind. I wasn’t planning on doing anything much tonight anyway, only writing a few Christmas cards.’ The number of Christmas cards she had to write got fewer and fewer every year, it seemed. ‘Would you like a glass of wine? I’m having one.’

‘No, I’m good, thanks. I’ve got a couple of our other cottages to check on, better not turn up smelling of booze!’ But he sat down in one of the chairs near the Rayburn anyway. Was he waiting for Anna to appear? Cass wondered.

‘Anna’s not here I’m afraid.’

He didn’t look surprised to hear it.

‘I know, Dad said. I came to make sure you were OK. Will you be all right on your own?’

‘Of course I will!’ Cass said, with what she hoped sounded like a carefree laugh and swallowed another mouthful of wine, half-hoping that he would offer to stay with her. It appeared that Hal wasn’t that easily fooled.

‘I’m worried about you, after what happened the day of the last storm.’

‘Don’t give it another thought. I’ve always got God to talk to if things get difficult, so don’t worry about me!’ Even as Cass said it, she felt the hollowness of her own assertion; the lack of faith wasn’t getting any better. ‘Though I’m grateful that you thought of me.’

‘You’re made of stronger stuff than Anna, that’s for sure,’ Hal said.

She wondered, if she told him how lonely she was right now, and how every sound of the storm made her flinch, would he stay and comfort her like he would Anna; perhaps he would hold her in his arms as he had done that night in the beach hut …

Hal stretched out his hands to the fire, he looked chilled through, and his hair was plastered down with the rain.

‘I’d better get going,’ he said reluctantly.

‘But you’re soaked through … let me get you a towel at least, dry your hair, get warm again before you have to go back into the storm.’

‘If I get too warm and comfortable I won’t want to leave!’ he said as Cass went to get a towel from the rail of the Rayburn where she had hung it to dry. ‘Thanks,’ he added, as he stretched out a hand for the towel and started to dry his hair.

‘Here, let me …’ Cass found herself saying, taking a step towards him, reaching out to help him. He didn’t pull away or object as she picked up the towel. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, a look of peace on his face as she rubbed his hair dry. He sighed.

‘That feels so good!’ he murmured, ‘It’s nice to be warm. Don’t stop …’

He didn’t need to ask her, she could have carried on all night, the simple act of helping him dry his hair had the intimacy of a caress – was that when he felt too? It was like that night in the beach hut, the sudden closeness that darkness had brought between them closeness and that sudden rush of forbidden desire she had felt which now started to flood her mind again …

Had she crossed an invisible line? It was a peculiarly intimate moment to share with a man, what had come over her? Was she invading his personal space, was she intruding? It was entirely the wrong thing to be doing! Washing the feet of the poor was one thing, but just how was a red-blooded man like Hal supposed to react to a vicar drying his hair?

Politely and firmly, it would appear. As if he had felt the sudden tension in her arms, he opened his eyes again and sat up.

‘I’m sorry, Cass, I shouldn’t have sat down. I have to get on with things, lots to do ...’ Hal was already putting his coat on, suddenly anxious to be away.

‘If you need anything – as long as my battery lasts I’ve got my phone, just give me a ring, if you’ve got a signal. If you need me, I’ll come. You just have to ask.’

If she asked him now, would he stay?

He zipped his coat back up again, the metallic rip sounding loud in a sudden lull of the storm wind. ‘And if it gets too much on your own, Dad’s staying open and I’ll probably get the guitar out later if you fancy coming over; shouldn’t imagine that Dad’ll worry too much about closing time tonight either! Might not be any ice left and the drinks might not be as chilled as they should be - but it could be a good night.’

‘I don’t know Hal,’ she said as she showed him out, awkwardly conscious of him. ‘You’re throwing far too much worldly temptation my way!’

‘A bit of company and a song or two; that’s all. How about leaving the dog collar at home and try being yourself for one evening?’

I’d rather be yours for one evening, she thought, but could not, would not say.

After Hal left, she found she couldn’t settle to anything. His proximity had disturbed her, and her own reaction to his proximity had disturbed her more. Nothing had prepared her to feel like this; she knew what the right thing to do was; her training told her what God and the Church expected of her as a vicar; she knew that she should remain strong and devout and celibate unless she was married. She was all too aware that her father would never have been tempted like this; his shining example was always there before her.  It wasn’t fair on Hal, either. He fancied her a bit, she thought, and she was … well, she was powerfully drawn to him, but was that enough? She paced the floor while she wrestled with her conscience, following the slight depression in the stone flags which led from front door to kitchen and back, hundreds of years of footfall had worn the groove that her feet now followed through the house.

Lead me not into temptation was a fine sentiment but God wasn’t listening, God wasn’t watching. God no longer cared about her and what she did, so why should she care about God? And yet she still did. It was wrong. Desiring physical intimacy with a man like Hal was wrong for her, it was as simple as that.

But she was tempted.

 

Now the storm was getting worse outside, she found she couldn’t sit still. She didn’t want to waste the batteries on her phone or her laptop in case the power didn’t come back on tomorrow and she needed them, so inside the cottage was silent. The wind howled in the chimney and whipped up the sea so that the waves crashed down, louder and louder outside. Every time she heard a big smash on the harbour wall she ran upstairs to the window, to see if she could see what was happening, to see if waves were washing over the quay and into the yard, to see if the sea was swirling up into the town. The old red pantiles on the roof began to lift and rattle back down. The darkness outside was intense as ever and the candles began to gutter as draughts crept in under the door. The sash windows shook in their frames; with every fresh gust of wind Cass feared that the glass would shatter.

As she inspected the front window after a particularly loud crack from the window pane, she saw something. In the darkness of the yard there was a figure. It was difficult to see clearly with no streetlamps and only the odd glimpse of candlelight or torchlight from the windows of the surrounding houses, but it looked like a woman’s figure in a long skirt and a shawl, standing huddled underneath an overhanging porch in the pouring rain and the wind. Cass’s heart whirled and she pulled away from the window in shock. By the time she turned back, the figure was gone. It was her imagination. It had to be her imagination. It could only have been her imagination, stirred by the strangeness of the darkness and the storm – but she wished that she wasn’t alone right now. Her heart was thumping and her breath was tight in her chest. She couldn’t spend the rest of the evening like this, scared and imagining things, fighting with the twin demons of desire and guilt. She should go to bed right now, pull the covers over her head and try and sleep through until daylight. In the morning things would seem better, perhaps, but how would she ever get to sleep when every gust of wind made her jump? She could ring Hal, and ask him to come to her - but no matter how much she wanted to, that would be entirely inappropriate and dangerous. She would be leading them both right into temptation, which was utterly wrong.

That left the third option - she could go to the pub. There might be some music and there could be other people seeking refuge from the storm. She might even be able to offer some comfort to others who were in need of reassurance – it would be good to put herself at the very heart of the community in an hour of need. And Hal would be there.

Cass changed her work trousers for a pair of jeans, put on a black vest top with a warm red shirt over the top and removed her dog collar as Hal had suggested.

Then she went to the pub.