Arabella said: ‘Who did?’
‘Two people, it says here: Mrs Cissy Bagshaw got half, and Mr Amos Barrowfield the other half. And the expensive cloth for officers’ uniforms will be supplied by Mr David Shoveller.’
The bishop looked up from hisTimes.‘David Shoveller?’
‘The one everybody calls Spade.’ As Elsie said this she caught her mother’s eye. Arabella suddenly looked frightened.
The bishop said: ‘I had forgotten that his real name is David.’
Elsie shrugged. ‘Most people don’t know.’ Her father seemed unaccountably struck by this insignificant fact.
She looked again at her mother. Arabella’s hand was shaking as she stirred sugar into her tea.
The bishop said: ‘Arabella, my dear, you like the name David, do you not?’ Elsie was worried by the look in his eye.
Arabella said: ‘Many people like it.’
‘A Hebrew name, of course, but popular in Wales, where their patron is Saint David. They shorten it to Dai, though not when referring to the saint, naturally.’
Elsie could tell that something dramatic was going on here, under the blanket of a mundane discussion, but she could not figure out the underlying issue. Who cared if Arabella liked the name David?
When the bishop spoke again there was a look of spite on his face. ‘In fact, I seem to remember that you wanted to call your son David.’
Why did he sayyourson?
Arabella lifted her gaze and looked directly at him. Defiantly she said: ‘It would have been better than Absalom.’
Elsie began to understand. The bishop thought he was not the father of Absalom; he had always been puzzled by the story of his drunken night last Easter. Arabella had wanted to call the boy David – whichwas Spade’s real name. Belinda Goodnight had said that Arabella was surprisingly friendly with Spade.
The bishop thought Spade was the father of Absalom.
Spade? If Arabella had committed adultery, would it be with Spade?
The bishop seemed to have no doubts. He stood up, his eyes blazing. Pointing a finger at Arabella, he said: ‘You will be punished for this!’ Then he left the room.
Arabella burst into tears.
Elsie sat beside her and put her arm around her, smelling her orange blossom perfume. ‘Is it true, Mother?’ she said. ‘Is Spade the real father?’
‘Of course!’ said Arabella, sobbing. ‘The bishop couldn’t possibly have done it and I was a fool to pretend. But what else could I do?’
Elsie almost saidBut you must be ten years older than Spade, but she realized that would not be helpful. All the same, she thought it, and more. Her mother was the bishop’s wife, one of the leading ladies in Kingsbridge society, and the best dressed woman in town: how could she be having an affair? An adulterous affair with a younger man? With a Methodist?
On the other hand, Elsie thought, he was charming and amusing, he was intelligent and well informed, he was even handsome in a craggy way. He was well below Arabella on the social ladder, but that was the least of the rules she was breaking.
But where did they go to be together? Where did they do the thing that adulterers do? Suddenly Elsie remembered the changing rooms in Kate Shoveller’s shop. She immediately felt sure that was the place. Those upstairs rooms had beds in them.
She was seeing her mother with new eyes.
The sobs died down. Elsie said: ‘Let me help you upstairs.’
Arabella stood up. ‘No, thank you, my dear,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my legs. I’ll just lie down quietly for a while.’
Elsie went with her into the hall then watched her go slowly up the stairs.
This was the day Sal was getting out of jail, Elsie remembered. She wanted to see Sal, to make sure she was all right. She could leave her mother now.
She put on her coat – made by Kate and Becca from cloth woven by Spade, she recalled. She went out into a rainy morning and walked briskly to the north-west quarter, heading for the Box family home. On the way she was assailed by an unwelcome image of her mother kissing Spade in a changing room. She pushed it out of her mind.
