Student Affairs

Chapter Three-1

Chapter ThreeEvelyn picked up her handbag, checked her reflection in the mirror, then closed the front door softly behind her. The morning's milk stood uncollected on the doorstep and on closer inspection, she could see that a bird had been tapping away at the foil lid and siphoned the cream from the top.

“Good morning Evelyn!” A deep voice reverberated behind her, making Evelyn jump in fright. She spun around, her hand clutching her throat, then breathed a sigh of relief as she recognised Jacob striding up the path towards her.

“I didn't mean to scare you lass,” he removed his cap and smiled widely.

“Jacob,” she replied, “I wasn't expecting you,” self-consciously she smoothed down her daisy patterned skirt.

“I can see that. I was just passing and wondered how you were. How lucky to catch you on your way out. Where are you off to on this lovely day anyway?” He stopped in front of her smiling. Jacob looked smart thought Evelyn, he was wearing a sky-blue shirt, navy trousers and it looked as if he had just had a haircut. Realising she was appraising him, her cheeks reddened.

“I'm going to see a friend. H-how are you Jacob?”

“Very well thank you,” he replied with candour, his eyes bright and twinkling, “I hope you are okay?”

Evelyn nodded quickly, her lips lifting into a smile.

“I must say a tan suits you Evelyn,” Jacob cleared his throat as his gaze roamed over her bronzed arms and legs, “how was your holiday?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” Evelyn enthused, “I have to admit I was nervous, what with never flying before but it was so exciting to be up in the air. Can you believe it was my first time abroad?”

“You won't want to holiday in Britain again,” Jacob chuckled, “the world is a big, exciting place Evelyn, so much to see and do.” They chatted a while about holidays and all the exotic destinations Jacob had been too, before Evelyn reluctantly glanced at her watch.

“I do have to go; my bus is due any time now.”

“Can I drive you?” Jacob asked, gazing down at her earnestly, “it would be no trouble.”

Evelyn was touched by his chivalry and impeccable manners, “are you sure it's not out of your way Jacob? I'm going right across the other side of the city.”

“I was heading that way myself and you would be pleasant company Evelyn,” he held out his arm and steered her towards his small, red car.

Evelyn settled back on cool leather seats, clicking her belt into place as Jacob started the engine and pulled away, to join a steady stream of mid-morning traffic.

“How are you coping?” She knew the gently asked question was referring to the recent death of her mam.

“It's getting easier,” she replied with a nod, “I still pour her a cup of tea sometimes though, and I haven't been able to bring myself to sort out her bedroom yet, but I think I'm doing okay.”

Jacob removed one hand from the steering wheel and patted hers, “You're doing great.”

A silence ensued, Evelyn became distracted by thoughts of her kind Mam. A snapshot of memories formed in her mind; Nora sitting in her high-backed chair, foot tapping as she sang along to the radio. Her Mam laughing with delight at old seventies comedies. Mam kissing and cuddling her goodnight when she was a young girl. Mam dancing around the living room on Christmas day. So many memories, so much joy and happiness, reminiscent of a much-loved lady. Evelyn grabbed at the locket around her neck, smoothing the gold, beneath which lay a photograph of her mam and dad, together again at last. They were stopped at a set of traffic lights when Evelyn realised that Jacob was speaking to her.

“…so, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the opening of the new art gallery. I thought we could go for dinner afterwards.”

The invitation surprised her, “but how did you get tickets Jacob?” Evelyn was intrigued.

“The perks of working for the council. I think I'm the longest serving Chattlesbury employee there.”

“I'm not sure…” Evelyn was suddenly undecided and nervous. She was very fond of Jacob, but it had been more than thirty years since she had accompanied a man on an evening out. The debilitating shyness which going to university had helped overcome, returned with a vengeance. Jacob glanced her way, intuitive and understanding.

“I would be honoured to take you,” he explained softly, “but there's no pressure Evelyn. You have my number, please let me know if you would like to come.”

“I will,” Evelyn nodded, touched by his kindness. “I think we're nearly here.” She gazed out of the window as they passed painted signs for the village centre.

“Sophie is your friend from university?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, and the lady I went to Lanzarote with, along with her two young adorable children,” Evelyn pulled at a loose thread of cotton, hanging from her blouse, “she's going through a tough time at the moment.”

Jacob looked at her with quizzical eyes.

“Recently separated from her husband, the poor dear. The ghastly man was unfaithful to her and more than once.”

“Sophie, Sophie O'Neill, is that her name?”

“Yes, do you know her?” Evelyn was surprised.

“Only through the local newspapers. Ryan O'Neill is pretty famous as the main Chattlesbury Football Club striker. A wild man by all accounts.”

“It seems that way,” Evelyn shook her head with distaste.

Jacob put his foot on the brake and crunched the gears down to second, “Is this the right road Evelyn?”

“Yes, there it is,” Evelyn pointed to a huge detached house encased by iron gates and bordered by a vast drive.

“That is some property,” Jacob let out a low whistle then swivelled in his seat.

“Thank you so much, you're very kind,” Evelyn picked up her handbag.

“It's been my pleasure Evelyn,” Jacob replied, taking her hand, “it's been lovely seeing you again. Please consider my invitation, I'm sure we'll have a great evening.”

Evelyn coughed, “I will, thank you. Good bye Jacob.”

She waited while he tooted the horn, then chugged off up the quiet street.

She turned to peer between the metal bars noticing that the blinds were closed and covering all windows, even though the mid-day sun was shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky.

She fanned her hands in an effort to cool her perspiring face, then searched for a bell to ring, or an intercom to speak into. Ah, there it was, tucked away in a corner, half hidden by stems of climbing ivy and silvery cobwebs. She pressed the buzzer firmly and cleared her throat in anticipation. The minutes passed by, but there was no reply. Evelyn glanced at her wristwatch aware that she was slightly early, but still, Sophie was expecting her. They had only spoken two days ago to arrange the lunch date. Evelyn pressed the buzzer again with more force and heard the sounds of dogs barking in response.

“Are you after Mrs O'Neill?” A voice called from behind her.

Evelyn spun on her heels, surprised to see a woman peering at her inquisitively from an open car window.

“Yes, she was expecting me.”

“Wait one moment,” the lady in the red Fiesta pulled up the handbrake with a loud crunch then clambered from the car, puffing and panting.

She was small with ruddy cheeks and thick spectacles, that shielded a pair of tiny eyes.

“Mrs Pobble,” she gasped, stretching out a chubby hand, “wife of Mr Pobble, the esteemed village vicar.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Evelyn smiled, gingerly taking her hand.

“Family member are you?” Mrs Pobble asked with an inquisitive sniff.

“No, no, I'm a friend, from Chattlesbury university.”

“Ah, I see,” Mrs Pobble shook her head, “it's a dreadful business,” she motioned towards the house, “a huge scandal and in such a lovely village too.”

Evelyn was puzzled, “I don't understand…”

“Why the O'Neill's of course. Tawdry affairs, gambling, drinking, illicit se…” she stopped, seemingly unable to voice the word referring to human copulation, “and that's just what we know about!” She fumbled for her glinting gold cross pendant.

“Oh, but that wasn't Mrs O'Neill,” Evelyn felt compelled to defend her friend.

“They are heathens too!” Mrs Pobble rolled her eyes heavenwards.

“Sophie is lovely,” Evelyn replied with conviction.

“I understand!” Mrs Pobble raised a hand gnarled by arthritis, “Sophie is your friend and your loyalty is admirable,” she let out a wheezy cough, “if not somewhat misplaced.”

Evelyn backed away slightly and glanced towards the house.

“Their behaviour has tarnished the entire village.” Mrs Pobble continued with high pitched disapproval, “There are press constantly hanging around, asking our decent village members intrusive questions. They seem to think we're all at it,” she fanned herself, “They even accosted my darling Mr Pobble while he was on his way to oversee a charity fete. It's jolly well not on.”

Evelyn swallowed down a gulp of laughter, “I'm sure the press will soon lose interest and as a Christian Mrs Pobble, you surely must understand Sophie needs support and compassion at this difficult time.”

“I am a devoted Christian,” Mrs Pobble's tone became haughty and defensive, “I extend the hand of love and charity to all my parishioners. Of course I don't condemn her for past transgressions.”

“That's good to hear,” Evelyn replied firmly, “because Sophie really is the victim here and besides, she hasn't done anything wrong to be forgiven for.”

Mrs Pobble pushed her spectacles further up her slippery nose, “I feel for the poor woman, really I do. To be married to such a devilish rogue must have made her quite ill. I've heard that he had, erm… dalliances with more than one woman and squandered money on all sorts of unnecessary frivolities. There are people begging on the streets of England and Ryan O'Neill throws his on the roulette wheel. Gambling really is a wicked vice indeed.”

Evelyn nodded distractedly as Mrs Pobble continued her tirade, “Although Mrs O'Neill is not completely blameless you know. She seemed to positively relish their wickedly lavish lifestyle. Her and Mrs Lavelle have always been avaricious, they were always shopping. How many dresses does a woman need to own? These jodhpurs of mine have lasted me years,” she pointed at her own sturdy attire, “and I certainly wouldn't ever consider going to a spa!” she hurled the last word in anger. “Maybe you could encourage Sophie to fill up a charity bag, although what use an African would get out of a designer ball gown is debateable. No, no, on second thoughts, tell her to send any unwanted items to the charity shop on the high street. I'm sure we would sell anything she owned, if only for the novelty value.”

“Right, okay, I'll…mention it to her,” Evelyn looked around for someone, anyone to intervene, but the street was eerily quiet.

“Now,” Mrs Pobble sniffed loudly, “has Mrs O'Neill been christened? The good Lord shall set her on the right path again. You must encourage her to attend church. We can help her you know. Through the power of prayer and sermon, I'm sure that in time Sophie will heal. Maybe you could accompany her? Would this Sunday be convenient?”

“I think she has other pressing matters,” Evelyn answered tactfully, her colour rising, “but I will certainly send her your well wishes. I'm sure that she will appreciate your kindness.”

Mrs Pobble blinked, “of course, thank you. Now I really must go. I have numerous chores to attend to. I do like to keep busy. Idle hands spawn an idle heart you know. It was nice to meet you. Cheerio,” with an elaborate wave, Mrs Pobble trudged back to her car and proceeded to disappear in a cloud of petrol fumes and vibrant exhaust clapping.

Evelyn shook her head in bemusement, then pulled her mobile phone from her bag, searching her contacts for Sophie's number. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity and she was just about to cut the call and head back home, when a voice croaked, “hello.”

“Sophie! It's Evelyn, I'm outside dear.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, “I'll be down in a minute.” Buzz, the line went dead.

A pair of magpies cawed overhead, Evelyn watched as they flapped onto the overgrown lawn, pecking at each other, as they foraged for worms. She could hear the faint sound of bolts being dragged open, the whimpering of excited dogs.