by I Beacham
The real reason was more painful. Poor Maude had overheard some detrimental comments about her playing. While the remarks had been accurate, the way they’d been said was harsh. They’d not been meant for Maude’s ears, but she’d heard them anyway. Now her feelings were irreparably hurt. Sam’s attempts to soften the criticism had failed. Maude would not play for much longer.
“If this is the bit where you attempt to blackmail me into becoming your permanent organist—”
Sam cut her dead. “Relax. I think I’ve found someone. There’s a young scout leader who’s just moved into the area. He’s been the organist for his last church and is more than keen to take over from Maude. He’s ready to start as soon as she steps down. So something is going right.”
Sam was grateful. The young man had overheard Maude’s resignation and sensitively mentioned his desire to take over. He even suggested asking Maude to “show him the ropes” later in the week, and allow him to shadow her. Sam thought this a great idea. It would give Maude some dignity back, helping—training—the replacement. She hoped he wouldn’t pick up any of her musical abilities.
Their meals arrived and they started eating.
“Can’t anybody help?” Joey asked.
“Yes. Neil…Bishop of the diocese…he’s working on all the staff shortages and doing the best he can. The trouble is people aren’t joining the church like they used to and everything is getting spread thinly. I’m sure all will improve.”
Sam wasn’t sure at all, but let the subject drop.
“On a lighter note, Carrie Marlow is turning up tomorrow to do that interview for the local radio station. I’m hoping some airtime might bring money into the appeal fund. So how’s your new job going?”
“All right, I think. We get along well together and they like my ideas. I enjoy going to work so it’s a good start.”
Sam was pleased Joey was settling in.
“Did you buy the Tiffany lamp?”
“I did. It’s now sitting on the small table you and I placed by the side of the couch.”
“Sounds homey.”
“I’m nesting. You’ll have to come over one night for dinner.”
“I’d love to.” Sam would look forward to that. When she was around Joey, it didn’t feel like work. She could leave her dog collar behind and be plain old Sam for once. Even when she was with Neil and his family, she was always aware that he was the bishop. Her time with Joey was beginning to feel like she had a real life.
But she couldn’t entirely walk away from her concerns for Joey. It wasn’t her job talking; it was a growing friendship. She wanted to see if Joey would talk some more about what had happened out in Syria. Joey continued to look exhausted and in need of quality sleep. Sam was glad they’d shared something of a conversation about what had happened to her, but she was under no illusions that Joey kept emotions tight and would only talk so much before the barriers came down. They’d been down for too long now, and Sam knew the dangers of lids sealing and contents festering beneath. But she wouldn’t raise the topic today. Joey was having fun, and Sam didn’t want to ruin anything. She could wait.
“I’m going to miss not playing for you,” Joey broke Sam’s chain of thought.
“Bless you.” Sam beamed. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters for your time now, but I’ve loved having you play…as have the congregation,” she said, not without humor. “If you feel the need to tinkle the ivories again, you have only to say the word. I’m sure we can accommodate a guest spot.”
They were interrupted by Sam’s cell. She tried to ignore it, but Joey insisted she answer.
It was Stephen Bell. His mother was in the local hospital and had taken a turn for the worst. She was not expected to last the day, and Stephen was asking if Sam could see his mother. She told Stephen she would be there as soon as she could.
“I’m sorry, Joey.” Sam couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“Something’s happened?”
“One of my flock isn’t well. She’s in hospital and not expected to see the day out. Her son wants me to go see her. I really have to.”
“Of course. You must.”
Sam was thankful for Joey’s understanding.
“I can get a taxi home,” Joey added.
“No need for that. I have to go home and change, grab a few bits and bobs, so I can drop you off. That is if the bike starts.”
The BSA A10 Golden Flash motorbike fired into life at the first kick, and they made it back in record time.
Sam dropped Joey off.
“I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t ruined your day,” Sam said.
“You haven’t. It’s been great, and you did warn me that your phone rings off the hook.”
“Yes, I just wish it hadn’t today.”
Just before Sam left, Joey said, “You’re a nice person, you know? The lady in the hospital will be glad you’re there.”
The compliment sent a tingle down Sam’s spine. As she rode back to the vicarage to change, she wished that cell phones had never been invented.
*
Joey’s reprieve from organ playing was short.
Sam’s begging phone messages were now becoming routine. She needed Joey to play at the church yet again because no one else was available. This time it was for a couple of hours one evening later that week.
It was for the bishop’s certificate course, a weekly event which was led by Bishop Neil Covey-Smartingdon. It was for those who wanted to learn more about the Bible and the greater theories of Christian faith. Sam needed her at St. Mary’s to play a couple of short old hymns to show symbolic interpretation of prayer in song. Joey had no idea what that meant, but playing held dual opportunity. She would see Sam again and get to meet the bishop Sam spoke of with such warmth.
Joey raced to the church from work and arrived just in time.
Sam’s welcome was warm if a little hurried. “Thanks, Joey. I owe you. Neil is about to start. The music’s up there,” she indicated the organ, “along with the program. I think it’s straightforward, but I’ll give you a nod when you need to play. Your two pieces are short. I’m giving a brief talk on an area of diocese history which Carrie, the lady from the BBC radio station, is going to record. She interviewed me yesterday but wants more. She’s already here. I must dash. See you later.”
As Joey made her way up on to the mezzanine level to play, she could see Carrie seated a few pews behind the students with a recording device on her lap. As if by instinct and knowing she was being observed, Carrie turned and looked up at Joey. She smiled and waved. Joey nodded back.
As she settled at the organ, she couldn’t resist a sneaky glance back at Carrie who was now occupied with the recorder. She was not an unattractive woman, probably in her mid thirties. A healthy mop of shiny brown curly hair fell to shoulder length, and she wore a vivid bright lipstick that contrasted with her pale skin. She would have studied her more, but the bishop started to talk.
For the next ninety minutes, Joey’s attention was firmly rested on the evening’s proceedings, and it took minimal time for her to realize what Sam saw in Bishop Neil. He was nothing like she expected a bishop to be. There was no stuffiness or formality. This man was handsome in a friendly sort of way, and when he laughed, everyone laughed with him. He made everything he spoke of interesting, and you wanted to listen.
Sam didn’t disappoint either. She spoke of Danish Vikings coming up the River Severn on their way to Bridgnorth, and of the possibility of monastic ruins beneath the current St. Mary’s. Her lively delivery engaged all of the twenty attendees whose ages ranged from mid twenties to late seventies, and her handling of some in-depth questions at the end was good. Joey felt a strange sense of pride.
Everything drew to a close, and she headed down to meet with Sam. As she stood waiting, Carrie came over to talk. For a reporter, she was in no rush to leave.
“You play very well.” Carrie’s voice was light and chirpy. “Do you mind if I use some of it in the backgrou
nd of the interview I’m putting together? I’ll give your name a mention.”
“I’m not the resident player. I’m covering for absences.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’ll all add to the sentiment of the piece.” Carrie subconsciously head flicked her dark hair before locking intense eyes on Joey. “So, what’s an American doing over here in Worcestershire?”
“I’m doing some consulting work with a company called Stallion Film Productions. They do work for the BBC and produce—”
“Wonderful documentaries,” Carrie interrupted, clearly impressed. “I know them. Who doesn’t? They’ve won plenty of awards. If you’re working for them, you must be good.”
She was a woman who oozed confidence and charm. Joey got the distinct impression she was flirting with her. She knew the signs, and they were flashing away like beacons. She was the type Joey had gone for in the past, but she wasn’t interested now. Something major had shifted in her since Syria, a constant whispering in her head that she needed to be more than she had been. If she was the survivor, she needed to deserve that. She found herself looking over to where Sam was, down the far end of the aisle. She was deep in conversation with Neil.
Sam was pleased with how well the evening had gone. Neil didn’t attend every session but when he did, it was clear the students appreciated his presence and his dry wit. Tonight was no exception. Only now were the students beginning to drift away leaving the two of them able to talk.
“Do you want to stay for coffee?” Sam asked.
Neil shook his head. “Better not. I’ve an early start tomorrow and will be driving down to London. I’m off to Lambeth Palace for a meeting with the archbishop.”
Sam shook her head and smiled. Neil said it as if he was popping into the local chemist for a quick consultation with the pharmacist. The Archbishop of Canterbury was the head of the Anglican Church.
“Anything important?” she asked.
As usual, Neil was flippant and wrapped everything in humor. “He needs my guidance. I can never refuse him.”
The last person on earth to need any guidance was the new archbishop. He was a man with drive and plenty of fresh ideas. The church was torn over issues of power and sexuality. There was never going to be agreement, especially with some of the overseas churches. The archbishop was looking for fresh ways to solve emotional concerns. Neil had strong opinions of what was needed to modernize the church and make it more appealing to the young. He’d often met with resistance from the old school, but it seemed he and the new archbishop shared a common vision.
“You do realize you’re destined for higher places, Neil. He doesn’t keep asking you down to London because he likes your jokes. He’s sussing out his new team to help him forge changes…and you’re going to be one of them.”
Neil grew serious. “Miriam says that.”
“She’s right. He values your opinion. Any transformations will have to be driven by good minds. He wants the right team around him so he gets the best help.”
“Talking of best help, your new organist plays delightfully. And I hope I won’t get hit by a bolt of lightning for saying this, but Maude’s absence is a blessing from heaven.”
“Don’t. She overheard some unpleasant comments about her playing and has taken them to heart.”
“Well—” Neil started to say, but Sam interrupted.
“No, Neil. It was cruel and she doesn’t deserve them. She’s only ever tried to do her best, and frankly, without her, we wouldn’t have had anyone.”
Neil looked chastised. “You’re right. Maybe you could let me know when she’s around next. I’d like to thank her…spoil her. I’ll do a little presentation in church in front of everyone.”
“She’d like that. It’ll mean a lot.”
“Can you come to lunch next Sunday?”
“Love to.”
“What about your American…Joey? You said she’s from Baltimore? I did a sabbatical there years ago and had a wonderful time. Do you think we can ask her to lunch, too? The more the merrier. Miriam always cooks for the five thousand anyway.”
“I’m sure she’d love that.”
“Good,” Neil said. “I’ll ask her in a minute. She seems busy.”
Sam looked down the aisle and saw Carrie and Joey standing together chatting away like old friends. Carrie was grinning like an inmate out on a day pass. It was plain to see she was smitten with Joey. An odd flicker of resentment passed through Sam. It didn’t help when she saw her pass Joey a card…which she took.
Neil started talking to someone, and Sam chose the opportunity to walk down to Joey and Carrie. As she approached them, she caught the end of their conversation.
“If you need anything, information or whatever, you give me a call. We BBC people should stick together,” Carrie said. “I can also show you around the place if you want.”
“Thanks, but it’s always difficult finding the time.”
Unexpected satisfaction filled Sam, knowing Joey wasn’t interested. It unsettled her to realize she was showing a measure of possessiveness toward Joey. Sam was self-examining her unusual behavior when Carrie turned to her.
“Reverend Savage, thank you. This has been great and I’ve got everything I want. I’ll be in touch and let you know when the program airs.” Her attention shifted back to Joey. “If you change your mind, you know where I am.”
Sam didn’t miss the coquettish look on Carrie’s face. She was glad when she left.
“Found a new friend?” Sam said.
“No.”
“Looks like you have to me.”
“I haven’t. It’s just the BBC connection.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sam faked casual indifference, but Joey’s eyes narrowed. They would have disappeared into slits but for Neil’s appearance.
“Ah, the wonderful organist.” He bounced up to them in energetic manner, thrusting his hand forward. “Hello, Joey, I’m Neil, Sam’s friend and resident bishop of the diocese.”
Joey shook his hand and smiled back.
“I was wondering if you’d like to come to lunch on Sunday. Sam’s coming too. She tells me you’re from Baltimore? I was out there once and would love to talk about the place. You can meet my wife. She loves Americans!”
“I’d be delighted,” Joey answered. “It’ll give me a chance to catch up with Sam too.”
Sam noted the shrewd look Joey cast her.
*
Sam returned to the vicarage after lunch at Miriam and Neil’s. It had been a wonderful time, and the laughter had flowed with abandon.
As usual, it was a feast, and Sam always left feeling ten pounds heavier. Miriam was a born socialite who enjoyed nothing better than entertaining. If Neil was destined for higher places, Miriam would be a blessing. She could cook and hold conversation with anyone. Even the most reserved opened up to her and started chirping like a budgie.
It was because of that gift that Sam had been full of reservations when she and Joey arrived. Miriam’s usual sharp cutting twenty questions aimed at getting to know someone had the potential to backfire with Joey. She would not want to talk about herself, and Miriam would view it as a challenge. Sam was becoming aware that Joey hid her trauma well, and that what Sam saw and heard was only the tip of the problem. Miriam was damn nosey, and Sam often thought she had missed her true vocation and would have made a splendid journalist. She didn’t want Miriam stomping around Joey’s fragile psyche.
But from the moment they arrived, Miriam avoided all the hotspots with the precision of a human landmine detector. Sam felt guilty. Neil’s wife was a perceptive woman, and Sam should have given her more credit for spotting signs. The outcome was Sam’s fears did not materialize. Miriam and Joey hit it off straightaway.
As for Neil, he talked animatedly about his time in Baltimore, and at St. Basil’s. Joey listened and laughed, and even knew a few of the people he mentioned through her mother’s church connections.
Thou
gh Sam enjoyed every lunch she came to here and was always made to feel one of the family, this one was special.
“So, how are you settling in, Joey?” Miriam asked.
“Really well, thanks. I love the job and the people I work with. I wasn’t too sure I would, but they’re smart people with vision.”
“And living arrangements?” Miriam asked.
“The apartment is nice.”
“You’re not lonely?”
“I’m making friends, and some of them are turning out to be exceptionally nice”—Joey turned and rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder—“even if they do have hidden musical agendas.”
Everyone had laughed. Sam had too. It covered the strange nervousness she suddenly felt as Joey touched her. Many of her congregation were tactile and she was used to it, but none of them made her feel like this, sensitive to every movement Joey made. She was becoming keenly aware of everything physical about Joey—her laughter, the intonations of her voice, her scent. Many times throughout lunch, Joey continued to touch her. It was always light and innocent, but it always produced the same effect on Sam. Only one other person had held that power. Louise.
“I hear you’re good with the motorbike too,” Miriam said.
Joey flicked her chin in response.
“Now I see why Sam thinks you’re wonderful.” Miriam stood. “I’ll go get dessert. Darling, we need another bottle of wine.”
Neil disappeared too, leaving Sam and Joey alone.
“So you think I’m wonderful?” Joey arched an eyebrow Sam’s way.
God help her, Sam felt her face redden. Joey didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s something very nice,” Joey said, “about being a twosome at a lunch table, isn’t there? I’m usually by myself.”
Joey was voicing exactly what Sam felt.
Sam thought of her own experiences at social functions. She was always alone. Ecclesiastical dinners and church soirees often seated her next to someone with the personality of a dead fish. Not that she objected, but it seemed that was her role. Today at lunch, it was different. She didn’t feel alone, and she was amazed at how much more alive she felt. It was all because Joey was here.
