and she deserved better from me than that. So, for the first time in eight years since renouncing the monastic life at Glastonbury, I was feeling like a prisoner caged in a narrow cell and with no imminent prospect of release.
On a sudden impulse, I told Adela about my conversation with John Overbecks in the Green Lattis (or Abyngdon’s or the New Inn, whichever she wanted to call it). But I still didn’t tell her about the two gold pieces concealed under the floor. (They made no difference to our ability to buy the baker’s shop as a dwelling for ourselves and our growing family, so there seemed no point in mentioning them. Their existence insured us against any unexpected disaster, but Adela, sensible and level-headed as she was, possibly wouldn’t see it that way. There was so much we still needed.)
For a moment, she was inclined to add her lamentations to mine, but not for long.
‘God gives each of us the life we have to lead,’ she remarked practically, ‘and He expects us to make the best of it. So it’s not only useless, but wrong, to repine over what we can’t, and don’t, have. God will provide.’
I wished that I had her deep and abiding faith instead of the feeling that the Almighty frequently forgot my very existence unless I gave Him a nudge. Furthermore, I was sure that His ideas about what was necessary to see me through this vale of tears differed considerably from my own. Sometimes it seemed that God and I had always been at loggerheads, but that wasn’t something I could confide even to Adela. She knew, and accepted, that my beliefs were occasionally unorthodox, but it would not only have shocked but also frightened her to realize quite how heretical they really were.
I leaned across and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re quite right,’ I said. ‘And if that young greedy-guts has finished sucking, let me take him, while you have a rest.’
She passed Adam to me and settled him in my arms, half afraid that, being a man, I wouldn’t know how to hold him, then sat back on her stool and smiled at both of us.
‘Are you going to heed Richard’s warning and keep your nose out of this murder?’
‘Do you want me to?’
‘I’d prefer you to. I don’t want you going to prison. On the other hand, if it would keep you from being bored and unhappy . . .’
‘I’m never bored and unhappy with you, you should know that.’
She gave one of those rich, throaty chuckles that I had always found so attractive and that, even now, after more than a year of marriage, gave me a deep frisson of pleasure.
‘Weren’t you ever taught that it’s wrong to tell lies?’ she teased. ‘All right! I accept that you’re not unhappy. At least, I hope you’re not. But never bored? Oh, Roger!’
I grinned shamefacedly. There was, however, no chance to continue the discussion as Elizabeth and Nicholas, recovered from their sulks, sallied forth to join us, all ready to return to the fray. A dog they must, and would, have. Singly and together, they pointed out that an animal would be less costly, less messy and far less noisy than a baby brother. Why couldn’t we ask Mistress Overbecks, who, incomprehensibly, seemed to prefer Adam, if she would accept him in exchange for her little black and white mongrel? Adela and I, half-amused, half-angry, drove them indoors again to an early bed.
The night was less disturbed than I had expected. The two older children, worn out by their tantrums, slept until first light, and then seemed content to talk quietly together, lying side by side on their mattress, until such time as Adela and I roused ourselves. Adam had wanted feeding only once, my wife informed me, adding acidly that he had no doubt been woken by my snoring. This immediately marked me down as the one who had enjoyed an untroubled sleep and who should therefore be able to perform my morning chores with a good grace and a merry quip. In that respect, I’m afraid I was a disappointment. I gave Adela a quick peck
On a sudden impulse, I told Adela about my conversation with John Overbecks in the Green Lattis (or Abyngdon’s or the New Inn, whichever she wanted to call it). But I still didn’t tell her about the two gold pieces concealed under the floor. (They made no difference to our ability to buy the baker’s shop as a dwelling for ourselves and our growing family, so there seemed no point in mentioning them. Their existence insured us against any unexpected disaster, but Adela, sensible and level-headed as she was, possibly wouldn’t see it that way. There was so much we still needed.)
For a moment, she was inclined to add her lamentations to mine, but not for long.
‘God gives each of us the life we have to lead,’ she remarked practically, ‘and He expects us to make the best of it. So it’s not only useless, but wrong, to repine over what we can’t, and don’t, have. God will provide.’
I wished that I had her deep and abiding faith instead of the feeling that the Almighty frequently forgot my very existence unless I gave Him a nudge. Furthermore, I was sure that His ideas about what was necessary to see me through this vale of tears differed considerably from my own. Sometimes it seemed that God and I had always been at loggerheads, but that wasn’t something I could confide even to Adela. She knew, and accepted, that my beliefs were occasionally unorthodox, but it would not only have shocked but also frightened her to realize quite how heretical they really were.
I leaned across and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re quite right,’ I said. ‘And if that young greedy-guts has finished sucking, let me take him, while you have a rest.’
She passed Adam to me and settled him in my arms, half afraid that, being a man, I wouldn’t know how to hold him, then sat back on her stool and smiled at both of us.
‘Are you going to heed Richard’s warning and keep your nose out of this murder?’
‘Do you want me to?’
‘I’d prefer you to. I don’t want you going to prison. On the other hand, if it would keep you from being bored and unhappy . . .’
‘I’m never bored and unhappy with you, you should know that.’
She gave one of those rich, throaty chuckles that I had always found so attractive and that, even now, after more than a year of marriage, gave me a deep frisson of pleasure.
‘Weren’t you ever taught that it’s wrong to tell lies?’ she teased. ‘All right! I accept that you’re not unhappy. At least, I hope you’re not. But never bored? Oh, Roger!’
I grinned shamefacedly. There was, however, no chance to continue the discussion as Elizabeth and Nicholas, recovered from their sulks, sallied forth to join us, all ready to return to the fray. A dog they must, and would, have. Singly and together, they pointed out that an animal would be less costly, less messy and far less noisy than a baby brother. Why couldn’t we ask Mistress Overbecks, who, incomprehensibly, seemed to prefer Adam, if she would accept him in exchange for her little black and white mongrel? Adela and I, half-amused, half-angry, drove them indoors again to an early bed.
The night was less disturbed than I had expected. The two older children, worn out by their tantrums, slept until first light, and then seemed content to talk quietly together, lying side by side on their mattress, until such time as Adela and I roused ourselves. Adam had wanted feeding only once, my wife informed me, adding acidly that he had no doubt been woken by my snoring. This immediately marked me down as the one who had enjoyed an untroubled sleep and who should therefore be able to perform my morning chores with a good grace and a merry quip. In that respect, I’m afraid I was a disappointment. I gave Adela a quick peck
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