The Chocolate Collection. Trisha Ashley
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‘Oh, wow, is that him in the long black coat?’
‘He’s still there?’
‘Well, he was standing looking at the house, but now he’s walking past. He looks familiar.’
‘It’s Raffy Sinclair from Mortal Ruin – the band that did the “Darker Past Midnight” song you had on your phone.’
‘Raffy Sinclair? He’s the new vicar? Cool!’
‘No, it isn’t cool and he’s the last man in the world I would have expected to get ordained, let alone turn up here,’ I snapped, and he gave me a puzzled look.
‘I suppose it is weird. I mean, he and his band were pretty wild, in their time, weren’t they? But I don’t suppose it’s going to affect us in any way, so what are you getting your knickers in a twist about?’
‘I am not getting my knickers in a twist!’ I yelled, then managing with a huge effort to pull myself together, added more calmly, ‘But of course, you’re right, it won’t affect us.’
‘I’d like to know where he got that coat from,’ Jake said enviously, then inelegantly stuffed the rest of the slice of toast into his mouth at once. He looked like a Goth hamster.
Now I was starting to recover my equilibrium and return to surrogate-mother mode, I was amazed that he’d got up without being told a second time and also made himself something other than his usual breakfast. But then, I suppose a constant diet of Pop-Tarts palls after a while, as even Raffy Sinclair seemed to have found out.
‘I’ve got to go. Kat wants to be in college early this morning,’ Jake said, picking up his bag and coat. That explained everything.
‘Drive carefully, won’t you?’ I said, fussing as usual as I stood on the doorstep watching him open the Saab door, which he’d left parked by the kerb the previous night.
‘Get a life, Mum!’ he called out in his usual cheeky way and then roared off as though he’d made a pit stop in a Ferrari.
I was just thinking that fussing over Jake was stupid, since it had completely the opposite effect to the one intended, when a movement in the shadows of the gateway almost opposite caught my eye: Raffy was standing there, the little dog wrapped inside his coat, but now he turned and walked off without a backward glance.
If he’d been waiting to see if I would come out again, so he could speak to me, then he’d thought better of it.
Just as well: we might have had a lot to say to each other once upon a time, but now it was all way too late.
Chapter Seventeen: Written on the Cards
‘Why on earth didn’t you call me last night and warn me who the new vicar was, Poppy?’ I demanded, when I finally got someone to answer the telephone up at Stirrups. As usual, her mobile had either gone flat, been trodden on by a horse, or not been switched on at all.
‘Sorry, Chloe. I was going to, as soon as I had a minute, only I’ve been up half the night.’ I could hear her stifling a yawn. ‘When I got home after the party I could hear one of the ponies banging about in his stall with colic, so I had to get the vet out. Mum wanted me to lie in this morning, but I couldn’t leave her to do all the work alone.’
‘But, Poppy, the new vicar is Raffy Sinclair.’
‘Yes, isn’t it exciting?’ she agreed enthusiastically. ‘Though actually, I didn’t think you were a huge fan of his, because you’ve never mentioned him and—’
‘Poppy,’ I interrupted, ‘I came face to face with him in the High Street less than an hour ago and it was such a huge shock that my heart is still racing.’
‘Oh, I know and I don’t blame you, because he’s terribly handsome, isn’t he? His eyes are almost turquoise, like the sea in that Jamaican holiday brochure you got when your mum went missing – quite stunning! And he’s really, really nice when you talk to him too, so even if all those stories about him and the rest of his band are true, I’m sure he’s put all that behind him now that he’s found God.’
‘Poppy, it wasn’t just a shock, it was a nightmare! Raffy Sinclair—’ I began, but she had the bit between her teeth now and was galloping off.
‘I expect you felt as stunned as we all did when he walked into the room last night. But I’m sure we’ll all soon get used to seeing him around the parish. We’ll have to, won’t we, since he’s the vicar?’ She giggled. ‘It’s going to be such fun!’
‘Poppy, stop gabbling for a minute and listen! Raffy Sinclair is the man I met at university – you remember, the boyfriend who went off and left me when his band was offered a recording contract, and didn’t come back? The one I never, ever, heard from again – unless you count reading about his debauched exploits in the newspapers.’
There was a gasp. ‘That was Raffy Sinclair? I had no idea! If only you’d told me his name instead of clamming up about it, I would have warned you and – oh, Chloe, he seemed so nice too!’ she exclaimed, distressed.
But of course Poppy had been away at the crucial time and when she eventually returned I’d lost any desire to share more than the barest details, even with my oldest friend. Only Zillah knew the full extent of what I went through then and I hadn’t told even her the name of the man who’d broken my heart.
‘I never wanted to see him again!’
‘No, and I suppose I can understand that, because I still feel a bit sick when I think of the silly way I behaved over that instructor when I was doing my course and I’m sure I’d die if I had to see him again,’ she agreed.
‘That was a bit different, Poppy – I thought Raffy loved me. He told me so!’
‘I know, and it’s terribly sad and romantic, just like a film,’ she sighed.
‘Yes, one with an unhappy ending!’
‘But it was an awfully long time ago. I expect you’ve hardly thought about him for years, it was just the shock of suddenly seeing him that’s upset you.’
‘Poppy, Mortal Ruin’s music is inescapable, so I’ve never had the chance to forget him!’
In fact, ‘Darker Past Midnight’ still makes me want to cry, because I’m not the girl in the song he’s longing to see again…but I didn’t tell Poppy that.
‘Oh, yes, I suppose that would keep stirring it up,’ she agreed. ‘But at least you got over him long ago, even if you couldn’t forget all about him, and you’ll probably soon get used to seeing him about. And after all, now he’s been ordained, he must be a totally changed man from the one you knew.’
‘I don’t care if he’s on the fast-track shortlist for sainthood,’ I snapped and slammed the phone down, though I was sorry almost immediately. It wasn’t poor Poppy’s fault that I was so upset.
Then some slight movement out of the corner of my eye warned me that I was not alone and I saw that Zillah was sitting quietly on a kitchen chair as if she had materialised there, with a large pot pie in a ceramic dish, the ostensible reason for her visit, on the table in front of her.
‘Oh, Zillah!’ I gasped, wondering just how many shocks a heart could take in one day. ‘How much of that did you hear?’
‘Enough,’ she said, while the roll-up fag dangling from one corner of her mouth shed a long trail of ash that narrowly missed the pot pie. ‘Finally I know the name of the man who made you so unhappy. Who deserted you in your hour of need. Who—’
‘Let’s not go there,’ I said wearily, dropping onto the chair opposite. I was starting to feel