The Newcomer

by Fern Britton

  ‘Certainly not. Auntie Helen and I will have it here the minute you get back.’

  Saying their goodbyes, Simon scooped Jenna up in his arms, and led his beloved little family back to the vicarage.

  Later, snuggled in bed with the lights out, Penny had a sense of foreboding. She fidgeted over to Simon, whose warmth comforted her. He reached an arm around her. ‘You OK?’ he asked sleepily.

  ‘Yes. Just thinking about how different the village might be when we get back.’

  ‘It’ll be the same as always,’ Simon told her. ‘Nothing changes in Pendruggan. Take it from me.’

  That night, Penny had a torrid dream. Their container ship was sunk by a terrible Atlantic storm, taking all their possessions to the seabed. Her father was there and tried desperately to save everything but, after many dives, was finally swallowed into the murky depths. She woke up gasping, but as she lay in her bed next to her sleeping husband, she heard the high-pitched wail of a strong wind coming off the sea and the rattle of heavy rain.

  She turned over to be closer to Simon and tried to shake off the bad feeling that still lingered.

  ‘It’s just an ordinary Cornish storm,’ she told herself. ‘And a simple anxiety dream. Everything will be OK.’

  Eventually she did sleep, while outside, the storm raged, shaking Jenna’s cherry tree and running up the beach on Shellsand Bay to wash away the great walls of the sand dunes.

  But when Simon woke, first as he usually did, the sky was the cleanest, washed-out blue, without a cloud. The sun was rising and bringing with it the first promise of summer warmth.

  In the kitchen as he waited for the kettle to boil, he opened the back door and saw the wind-strewn leaves of Jenna’s cherry tree on the lawn and the slender necks of the daffodils bent to the earth. But today was not a day to grieve over nature. Today he needed all his emotional strength to hand his flock over to their new caretaker, Angela.

  2

  ‘Well?’ The suspense was killing Robert. ‘Are we going to Cornwall?’

  Angela’s heart was racing, the pulse in her throat throbbing. She lifted her eyes from the letter in her hand and said, in a quivering voice, ‘Yes.’

  Robert ran to where she stood in the hall. ‘Woo hoo.’ He lifted her off her feet. ‘Congratulations.’ He squeezed her hard and without letting her go called up the stairs, ‘Faith! Mum got the job! We are going to live by the sea for a whole year!’

  ‘Great,’ came the muffled reply.

  ‘Well, come on. Come down and I’ll make a celebratory breakfast. Bacon sandwiches all round!’

  ‘Dad, it’s Saturday. I want to sleep.’

  ‘Let her be,’ said Angela fondly.

  ‘But it’s already eleven. She should be down here with us, celebrating.’

  ‘Darling.’ She kissed the top of his handsome head. ‘Put me down and we’ll have breakfast together. Just the two of us.’

  ‘I’m so proud of you.’ He gave her another tight hug, then set her back on her feet.

  A short while later, Robert placed the bacon sandwich in front of her. ‘Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please.’ Angela bit into the soft white bread and butter, and found the bacon crispy and warm. ‘The food of the gods,’ she said.

  Robert put a mug of tea in front of her, then sat down with his own sandwich and coffee. ‘The vicarage is going to feel huge after this little house.’

  ‘It will.’ Angela looked out of the kitchen window onto their tiny but neat courtyard garden. ‘I shall miss this, though.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t,’ Robert said through a mouthful of bread. ‘Farewell west London, hello west coast.’

  ‘You’ll miss work.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes, you will. It’s your meat and drink.’

  He wiped his mouth with a piece of kitchen towel. ‘We have talked all this through. Finish your sandwich.’

  ‘When will you let work know?’

  ‘I’ll talk to Gordon on Monday. It won’t come as a surprise. He told me you’d get the job.’

  ‘He’s been so good to you. To us.’

  ‘Yeah. He’s a good bloke.’

  Angela stirred her tea. ‘And you are sure? About having a year off?’

  He put the last of his sandwich in his mouth. ‘Absolutely. All those dark rainy nights standing on College Green or outside the door of Number Ten, shouting questions that won’t or can’t be answered to politicians who are as clueless as the rest of us.’

  ‘I’m not sure Cornwall will offer any of the excitement you’re used to.’

  ‘But I shall have a new job. Househusband extraordinaire …’

  ‘Not quite as exciting.’

  He shook his head. ‘Look, you have always been there for me, never minding when the office ring at ungodly hours to send me out on a story, never refusing a camera crew a bed for the night, always taking the burden of domestic responsibility. It’s my turn to look after you.’

  Angela put her hand on his knee and her head on his shoulder. ‘I am so lucky.’

  ‘The good people of Penwhatsit are luckier.’

  ‘Pendruggan.’

  He raised his coffee mug. ‘To my wife. The vicar of Pendruggan.’

  She laughed. ‘Vicar for a year, anyway. I hope I can do it.’

  Robert grew serious. ‘Darling, Ange.’ He took the hand she had on his knee and lifted it to his lips. ‘What you will be doing is a million times more worthwhile than any television news report. You are doing yourself and me and Faith proud.’

  ‘I hope Mum would be proud of me too.’

  ‘She’s smiling down on you as we speak.’

  3

  Penny took a last look around her bedroom as she rummaged for her emergency packet of tights in her flight bag.

  ‘I hope Angela will like this place,’ she muttered uneasily.

  Simon poked his head round the door. ‘Hurry up. I want us to get to church before Angela arrives. Jenna’s ready.’

  ‘I had a ladder so I’ve got to put these new ones on.’ She sat on the bed and rolled the expensive flesh-toned, ten-denier tights gently so as not to snag them.

  ‘We’ve got to go.’

  ‘I can’t hurry this. They snag so easi— oh shit, look what you’ve made me do.’ She glanced up to find he’d already gone and glanced back to see the pull in the fine mesh. ‘Bugger, bugger.’

  Jenna came in wearing her new grey, buttoned coat, white socks and red shiny shoes. ‘Come on, Mumma, Daddy says he’s going without you.’

  Penny pushed her feet into her taupe suede heels and grimaced at the pinch on her little toes.

  ‘OK, OK. I’m ready.’ She got to her feet, tottering slightly, then gained her balance. She sucked in her core muscles and made her way down the stairs in Jenna’s wake.

  Simon was fussing with his dog collar. ‘Does it look all right?’

  She gave him a once-over from top to bottom. ‘Perfect. How about me?’

  Simon was already looking for the door keys. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Will I do?’

  Without turning his head, he replied, ‘Yes, yes. Lovely as always. Right, let’s go.’

  The birds were singing in the churchyard and tulips and forget-me-nots were pushing their way up among the damp headstones. Simon strode ahead of Penny, deep in thought. Penny saw the tense set of his shoulders and the nervous way he had of reaching up to smooth his bald head. She understood that today was going to be difficult for him, difficult for them all, and her love and empathy flowed to him. The last couple of months had been fraught with things to organise and she had done her best to take the strain of the domestic arrangements from him.

  Goodness only knew how the caretaker vicar, Angela, was feeling. Pendruggan was to be her first proper parish. The poor woman hadn’t even seen the vicarage yet, not in the flesh. Penny had shown her around on FaceTime but that was it. To make things easier, Angela and Robert had been delighted for Penny to leave her furniture behind so that there
was the least upheaval for them all.

  And now, the day to hand over the vicarage had arrived.

  Penny and Jenna caught up with Simon as he unlocked the side door into the vestry. ‘Nice and warm. Good,’ he said, hanging his coat on the worn wooden peg above the radiator. He checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes before they are due.’

  The door connecting the vestry to the main church opened and a well-built woman wearing a tweed suit and a steel head of hair strode in. ‘Morning, Vicar.’

  ‘Ah, good morning, Audrey. Thank Geoffrey for turning on the heating, would you. Most grateful.’

  Audrey was at her most domineering. She was feared by almost everyone, Piran being the exception. She turned her gimlet eyes to Penny, who immediately felt inadequate. ‘Mrs Canter, perhaps you can solve the mystery of my floral decorations?’

  Penny swallowed hard but stood her ground. ‘Do you mean my clematis?’

  Audrey found the most withering of challenging looks in her arsenal of withering looks. ‘I do. Please explain.’

  Penny stopped herself from buckling. ‘My early clematis has just come into bloom and I thought it might, er,’ she searched for the word, ‘soften the structure of your altar arrangements.’

  ‘Soften?’ Audrey boomed.

  ‘Yes, the, erm … boldness of your design was, er … striking indeed, but maybe a little too harsh for the … welcoming theme of the day?’ she ended limply.

  ‘Harsh, Mrs Canter?’ Audrey Tipton took a step towards Penny but was interrupted by the arrival of her husband, Geoffrey, a man so henpecked and blustering he was known by the villagers as Mr Audrey Tipton.

  ‘Ah, Audrey, there you are,’ he panted.

  Audrey became alert. ‘Are they here?’

  Simon swallowed nervously and felt for his dog collar. ‘Angela has arrived?’

  ‘Where?’ barked Audrey.

  ‘Just parking,’ replied Geoffrey.

  Audrey moved to get through the vestry door and out to greet them ahead of Simon, but Simon beat her to it. Penny smiled sweetly and pushed past Audrey too, pulling Jenna behind her. ‘Welcome to Pendruggan,’ beamed Simon as Angela got out of the front passenger seat. ‘How was your journey?’

  ‘We were a little early.’ Angela smiled at her husband, Robert, who was stretching his legs and closing the driver’s door. ‘So we went down to Trevay to have a look at it. So pretty.’

  Robert walked round the car and shook Simon’s hand. ‘Hello. Good to see you again.’

  Penny stepped forward and kissed Angela. ‘Welcome, at last!’ She turned to Robert, who was even more handsome than she remembered. She tried not to gush. ‘Hi, Robert. Welcome to Pendruggan.’

  Out of the back seat unfolded a tall girl wearing a pair of super-tight white jeans, a crop top and a leather biker jacket. Her hair was long and streaked. Her face had all the sullen chubbiness of a teenager but Penny could tell she was a chrysalis ready to emerge as a beautiful woman.

  ‘And this our daughter, Faith,’ said Angela proudly.

  ‘Hello,’ said Penny. She pointed to Jenna. ‘And this is our daughter, Jenna.’ The Tiptons were pushing forward now, Audrey ready to assert her status as head of virtually everything in the village.

  And then she saw Robert and gulped.

  Tall, dark and handsome. His navy-blue eyes took in the sight of the gathering crowd of gaping villagers. A devastatingly attractive smile grew on his lips.

  Angela introduced him, ‘And this is Robert, my husband.’

  Penny swore later that the gathered women, and a couple of the men, fairly swooned.

  Simon, totally oblivious to this sudden swirl of sexual tension, took Angela’s arm and chatted his way with her into the church. ‘I am so looking forward to meeting everybody.’

  The church was packed. Penny, in the front pew, had Jenna on her left, Robert on her right and Angela on his right. She couldn’t help but notice that not only did Robert look good, he smelt good too.

  The congregation stood for the first hymn as Simon, the church warden and the choir processed from the back of the church to the altar.

  Penny looked around for Helen and Piran but couldn’t see them. Nor could she see Queenie. A spasm of worry unsettled her again. What if something had happened to her? Were Helen and Piran calling an ambulance?

  Robert noticed her fidgeting. ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  Biting her lip, she shook her head. ‘Just looking for friends who should be here,’ she whispered back.

  The service continued with Penny’s mind dithering between anxiety about Queenie and trying not to flirt with Robert. There was little space on the pews today and she was very aware of his muscular thigh and strong left arm pressed against hers.

  It wasn’t until the second hymn that the ancient door at the back of the church cracked open and Helen and Piran crept in. Helen gave Penny a little wave and mouthed a sheepish, ‘Sorry.’

  Penny wondered what had kept them. Maybe they had overslept. And where was Queenie? Another chill snapped at her heart. Was the dear old thing OK? And where was this sudden anxiety coming from? Queenie could never resist a village occasion. Especially a chance to give the new vicar a once-over. It took all of Penny’s willpower to stay put and not get up to go to look for her.

  Simon climbed to the pulpit.

  ‘How wonderful to see so many of you here today. I suspect it may not be my sermon you have come to hear but, more likely, you have come to get a good look at your new vicar.’ He paused for the laughter. ‘I shall ask her to stand up and give us a twirl. Ladies and gentlemen, the Reverend Angela Whitehorn.’

  Angela clasped her hands to her chest in embarrassment, but stood, blushing and smiling.

  The congregation scrutinised her. Medium height. Very slender. A kind face framed by a short, pixie cut. No make-up. Nails sensibly short and unpolished. She was wearing a knee-length black dress with dog collar, black tights and shiny black Mary Jane shoes. The majority conceded that she looked all right for the job. She sat down and Penny noticed that Robert immediately took her hand and held it proudly.

  ‘Let me tell you about Angela,’ continued Simon. ‘Upon graduating with an English degree from Manchester University, she joined the prestigious Manchester Evening News as a cub reporter. It was there, across a crowded newsroom, a handsome young politics writer caught her eye.’ Simon looked down to where Robert was sitting. ‘And became her husband. You may recognise him from his appearances on the television news. Stand up, Robert.’

  Seeming embarrassed, Robert stood, so tall no one needed to crane their neck. He gave everyone a little wave and sat down again, whispering into Angela’s ear and making her giggle.

  Simon continued, ‘A few years after they married, Angela began her path to ordination. This is her first parish as an ordained priest.’ He looked down from the pulpit at Angela and smiled. ‘It’s only on loan, though!’ Laughter came from the congregation and Robert put his arm around Angela’s shoulder and pulled her to him. Penny shifted uncomfortably, feeling envious. Simon continued, ‘Over the next year you will get to know Angela and Robert and their daughter, Faith, very well and they will also get to know you. I have trust and faith in you all to continue to build the fellowship within our community, and when Penny, Jenna and I return you will have many good things to share. Now, let’s sing one of my favourite hymns, and suitable for today, I feel, “To Be a Pilgrim”.’

  After the service, Penny was still scanning the crowd for Queenie.

  Simon and Angela were in the middle of the church, swamped by a deluge of curiosity and goodwill. Robert stood next to Penny, watching as his wife and her husband played the crowd like rock stars.

  ‘Your friends got here then,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. But actually, I’m still a bit worried about one of our villagers. She runs the village post office and stores. It’s not like her to miss something like this. She’d be wanting to know all about you and Angela. She is
very nosy and loves all the gossip but is very kind too. We all love her.’

  ‘Maybe she’s busy?’

  ‘She’d never be too busy for this.’

  ‘I’m taller than you. I may spot her. What does she look like?’

  ‘She’ll be wearing some ghastly hat, probably green with feathers, and she has a distinctive scent of mothballs and tobacco. Oh, and she hasn’t lost her cockney accent even though she’s been here for ever.’

  ‘She sounds quite marvellous,’ he laughed.

  ‘Oh, she is.’ Penny spotted Helen and Piran making their way towards them. ‘Helen, this is Robert. Robert, this is my best friend, Helen, and her partner, Piran.’

  Piran shook Robert’s hand with his natural distrust. He was always darkly suspicious of strangers, and this one looked a bit too pleased with himself. Too tall. Too good-looking. Too well-dressed. And Piran didn’t like the way Helen was looking at him all dewy-eyed. He’d have to keep a watch on this one. ‘’Ow do?’ he growled.

  Robert, used to other men’s wariness, struck up a conversation about the weather while Penny got Helen’s attention. ‘I’m worried about Queenie,’ she said quietly. ‘Where is she?’

  Helen shrugged disinterestedly. ‘She’s fine. I saw her earlier.’ Her gaze wandered back to Piran and Robert. ‘Piran’s jealous.’

  Penny ignored this and continued, ‘But why isn’t she here? Did she say?’

  ‘Who? Queenie? No. I say, Robert is a bit of all right.’

  ‘Where was she? Did she look OK?’

  ‘Yes, yes, fine. Normal Queenie.’

  ‘Will you stop staring at Robert?’ Penny hissed. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘I’m not staring,’ Helen grinned.

  ‘Yes you are. You are starting to drool. Stop it. Anyway, you already have the most handsome man in Cornwall.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s fun to see his nose put out of joint,’ Helen giggled.

  ‘I pity poor Piran, and Angela,’ Penny said virtuously. ‘As soon as everyone settles down and sees Robert as the nice, faithful husband he is, the better.’

  Helen looked knowingly at her friend. ‘You fancy him too! Don’t deny it.’