Edmund was just a bastard.
Babs was disgusted with the things he’d said about their Tom, that he was a sinner and all that God-bothering-nonsense, and that he’d groomed Cris and perverted him. Really!
What a hypocrite when half the village knew about him and Gina’s mum and what they got up to in the one of the lanes by the dairy farm. There were rumours he had a mistress over in Macclesfield too. Nothing would surprise Babs about Edmund.
At least Robin had never found out, or Gina, because the shame would probably kill them both. Babs had longed to expose the pious prick when he slagged off Tom. She wasn’t cruel though, and no good would’ve come of it.
It wouldn’t have helped Cris, who had simply fallen in love with a man ten years older and was so terrified of his own dad, had been hiding his sexuality for years. Fortunately Cris had gathered the courage to finally stand up to his father otherwise he’d have been bundled off to some retreat and brainwashed into being straight.
The thought of it made her shudder. How dare Edmund be judge and jury on another human being’s life or, take the moral and religious high ground when he was a sinner himself and had betrayed his wife and God all in one go?
No wonder after Cris left uni and ran away with Tom, Robin’s world started to fall apart. And then there was what happened to Willow and how Edmund reacted. Robin had confided in Babs that she was punishing the vicar in her own way and as a consequence, the atmosphere in the vicarage was rock bottom.
Babs made sure she did her cleaning when Satan was out, whereas when she cleaned the church he was often around, skulking and giving her scathing looks. Babs suspected that the only reason he didn’t sack her was because he didn’t want any more scandal. After all, the whole bloody village knew what had gone on.
Edmund thought he was so clever, with his secretly controlling ways, but Babs was a worthy adversary and rather than resign in a huff at the names he’d called Tom, she stayed on. It was like rubbing his nose in it.
Each time he saw Babs, he’d be reminded of the day he came home early from a conference and caught Cris and Tom‘in flagrante’. That’s how Edmund had put it when he rang Babs to tell tales on her twenty-nine-year-old brother. The bloody idiot. It had given them all a proper laugh,‘in flagrante’but she was grateful he didn’t say bang-at-it, because that was just too much information even for her!
Despite ‘the trouble’ Tom found his true love, and even though Cris never completed his classics degree, he’d achieved his true dream of being a musician in his band, playing at venues all over Almeria during the summer.
And their mutual loss of a brother and a son, plus their loathing of Edmund, had further united Babs and Robin in friendship and against the enemy. They’d been gone for years now, and while she had been over to see Tom, Robin had never made the trip.
And because the man of God Edmund was actually incapable of humility or basic kindness, Robin had borne so much alone. It broke Babs’ heart, which was why she would always stand by her friend and if tonight’s meeting went well they could do it again.
As she rounded the bend, Babs smiled when she spotted Robin, her red hair blowing in the breeze, her slender arm waving a welcome. Babs waved back and picked up speed, making the pale-faced woman who leant against the church wall a silent promise.
‘Don’t you worry, love, I’m here now and I’ve got your back. I’ll make sure you’re okay. No matter what, we’ll get through this, and I’ll never, ever let you down.’
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
ROBIN
Robin watchedas her friend disappeared from sight, giving one last wave as she rounded the bend. It had done her heart good to see Babs again and the warm white wine they’d shared had certainly hit the spot. There was something about Babs that lifted Robin up. It was the way she managed to make light of things and never let stuff get her down, like her overcrowded house and her over-pampered family. Robin knew it was just Babs’ way, to grumble about them with a roll of the eyes and a quip, finishing her mini-rant with,‘but I love them all really’.
Oh, how Robin envied her friend with her haphazard yet happy family life, but not for a second did she begrudge Babs a second of it, or the sweaty socks she’d found rolled up down the side of Pete’s armchair, or the brown stain that Sasha’s fake tan left in the shower.
It was nice, though, to hear about a normal family who lived, laughed, and quibbled. Unlike hers that had crumbled, rotting at the foundations, bent and twisted like the ancient gravestones she passed on her way back to the vicarage.
If only Edmund had become all the things she’d hoped he would. She’d convinced herself that given time, she’d mould him, soften the obtuse edges of his austere personality, rub out the thick black lines that guarded his heart and show him another way. Opposite to his upbringing.
To have that mission had seen her through those early years of marriage and what she knew were terrible mistakes: marrying Edmund and rejecting Arty. Instead of doing what she knew in her heart was very wrong but oh-so right, she’d sacrificed her happiness rather than let her parents down.
What was worse, unforgivable, was sacrificing the heart of another. Hurting Arty was like hurting herself. And in doing so, she’d set a course for disaster because that’s what she and Edmund were, an utter debacle, a marriage built on lies, infidelity, misguided faith and now hate. Because she did hate Edmund, she really did.
Don’t think about him now. You’ve had such a lovely time, Robin chided.And it’ll be such a waste of Babs walking all that way, and the Pinot Grigio. So buck up, like she does when she thinks of Isaac still living at home when he’s fifty.
Robin managed a chuckle and was about to say bye to Martha when her phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen she smiled and sat in her usual place, facing the headstone, her back resting against the wall. Swiping the screen, she was still smiling when she heard his voice.
‘Hello, you. What are you up to?’
‘I’m with Martha, and I’ve just had an illicit rendezvous with Babs. We shared a bottle of white. It was so good to see her and have a natter. She looks marvellous too, all tanned cheeks and joie de vivre. Her exercise regime is doing her the world of good.’
Robin could tell Arty anything, even about her chats with a long dead woman she’d never even met. He knew everything about her via their emails back and forth where she filled him in with the goings on in the village.
‘And are you managing to get out?’ Arty was also very direct.
‘Not really, no. Apart from being in the garden with Willow. She’s had a few good days. I persuaded her to keep me company while I did some weeding and I’ve been reading her angel books out loud. Oh, and we ordered some craft stuff off Amazon, jewellery making and a paint-by-numbers. I thought I could entice her to have a go.’
