The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) by Rebecca Shaw Read Free Book Online Page B

will find out what a horrifying waste of time these last three years have been. I might as well never have lived at all. I can’t face my colleagues, so I am obliterating myself .”
    ‘Peter, here – you read it.’
    He took the letter expecting to read a loving farewell. He’d read suicide notes before, but this was the cruellest. Hot tears began falling on the hand Suzy held. He looked into her face and saw her Madonna-like features crumpled with grief. He held her close whilst the tears fell. Gradually the tears lessened and Suzy spoke.
‘Did you notice, Peter, that there was nothing in the letter about me or the children? Nothing about what will happen to us now, or how we shall live? Nothing about “how much I have loved you or sorry for what has happened”? Losing him is bad enough, but to know he hadn’t a thought for us is what really hurts.’
    ‘I think you need someone to be with you. We ought to get your mother to come and bring the girls home.’
    ‘Oh dear Lord, how on earth can I tell them? What words do you use? “Your father’s killed himself because he can’t live with himself any more? He didn’t care a fig for you all”?’
    ‘Perhaps your mother could help you to find the right words. Whatever you say it won’t be easy, I’m afraid. We should contact Patrick’s parents. I’ll tell them for you if you would like me to.’
    ‘His parents both died when he was in his twenties. He has no one, except a distant aunt who never bothers with him. Will you ring my parents and get them to come and bring the girls? The number’s here.’
    After a pause she said, her voice trembling: ‘I’ll sit here waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I am. Patrick will be home soon. He’s always early on Thursdays.’

Chapter 4
    First thing next morning, before she left for the hospital, Caroline placed a vase of flowers on Peter’s desk with a little note telling him how much she loved him. She looked out of the study window to see what the weather was going to be like. Outside on the pavement were four or five photographers and press reporters, grouped around Suzy’s door. Their cars were parked haphazardly on the village green. So the ghouls had arrived. She could just imagine the headlines: ‘ Nuclear physicist dies. Was it murder? ’
‘Peter, come here a minute. Look at this.’
    He was horrified. ‘This simply won’t do. I’m going out to stop it. First I’ll ring the police – they ought to be here.’
    ‘I’ll ring them. You go out and have a word.’
    Peter swept out of the Rectory door and down the pavement, his cassock swishing angrily as he walked.
    ‘I would be most grateful if you would kindly move away from here and leave Mr Meadows’ widow and her children in peace.’ The reporters clustered around Peter, holding their microphones up ready to catch his words.
    ‘Can you give us some information about Mrs Meadows? How many children has she? Did she realise something was seriously wrong? Will she come out for an interview?’
‘Have you not listened to what I said? I asked you to move away from here. Get in your cars and go. Please.’
    ‘Now, sir, you can’t expect us to leave a headline story like this, the public have a right to know. A top nuclear physicist is found dead in his car … something must be very wrong. Could be a breach of national security.’
    ‘Has his wife been playing away?’
    ‘Is it marriage problems? You’ll know, sir, being the Vicar.’
    They all clamoured around him.
    ‘Can you get us an interview?’
    Peter towering above them all caught a glimpse of the little girls watching from a downstairs window and the hurt this must be causing them made him angrier still.
    ‘Come into my study and I’ll tell you everything I know,’ he promised, saying the first thing that came into his head just to get them away.
    ‘Right, sir, you lead the way.’
    Having got them away from Suzy’s house, Peter then had to think what on earth