Cast the First Stone

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘So do I, Simon,’ she smiled back. ‘But first things first, eh? Let’s see if we can get this Young Wives – and Friends – group off the ground. What a brilliant idea to meet here instead of the church hall. It will be so much more homely and comfortable. I’ll make a list of all the young – well, youngish – women that I know, and perhaps we could get some leaflets printed to advertise it . . .’ She was beginning to feel quite excited at the project, at getting to grips with something that was all her own idea.

  Twenty-Two

  In just over a month’s time the new Young Wives and Friends’ group was up and running. The first meeting took place in the spacious lounge of the rectory towards the end of October. There were ten young women present, which Fiona felt was quite a good number to start with, and there might be others as time went on. The ten who were there all had some connection with St Peter’s church. There were, of course, many other young women in the area, but it was felt that it would not be fair to encroach upon the other churches in the district, such as the Methodists and the Roman Catholics.

  Fiona was pleased to see that Gillian Heap, the church treasurer’s wife, had come along. Fiona, after having had a word with Graham, had gone along to their home to talk to Gillian and to invite her to join the new group. She had learnt the reason for Gillian’s reticence regarding the church, something that Graham had not divulged.

  Gillian had made Fiona very welcome in their sitting room whilst Graham and their two teenage children were doing the washing up after their evening meal.

  ‘You’ve got them well trained,’ Fiona observed with a laugh. ‘I didn’t realize you had any children. I know Graham, of course, and we would like to know you better, Gillian, if you would consider joining us.’

  ‘Yes . . .’ said Gillian. ‘I would like to, really I would. You see, the reason I don’t come to church with Graham . . .’

  ‘That’s not necessary,’ Fiona interrupted. ‘We don’t want the group to be what my husband calls a closed shop. Whether you attend church or not you are still welcome.’

  ‘Let me explain,’ said Gillian. ‘I was a Roman Catholic, you see, before I married Graham. I suppose that’s how I still think of myself, although I don’t go to Mass or anything any more. When Graham and I got married – we lived in Barnsley then – I’m afraid we had reached what you might call an impasse. My family were devout Roman Catholics – they still are – and they didn’t like it at all when I wanted to marry a Protestant, although they had nothing against Graham as a person. He’d always attended the Church of England; he was church treasurer in Barnsley at quite an early age, just as he is here. He wouldn’t “turn”, as they call it, and why should he have to do so, I wondered. And my parents were dead against me getting married in his church, so we got married in a register office, something neither of us really wanted, but it seemed like the only solution. So I don’t go to church – to St Peter’s, I mean – because I have this hang-up about it that I would be doing wrong to attend when I’m still technically a Catholic. I’m afraid that’s what my parents would still think. And because I don’t go, our children don’t attend church either.’

  ‘You’re happy though, aren’t you, you and Graham?’ asked Fiona. ‘Forgive me for asking, but you do seem to be on the occasions I’ve seen you together.’

  ‘Very happy,’ replied Gillian. ‘So long as we don’t talk about religion. I’ve been to social occasions with Graham, but that’s all. He’s always kept very quiet about our situation, and your husband has never enquired about it.’

  ‘No, Simon doesn’t believe in hounding people, unless they ask for advice.’

  ‘I’ve felt like talking to him – your husband, I mean – many a time, but I’ve never done so. That’s why I’m pleased to be able to talk to you now, Fiona. You don’t mind if I call you Fiona, do you?’

  ‘Not at all; that’s what I want everyone to do, but some of the older ladies still seem unsure about me.’ Fiona was pleased that they were getting on so well together and especially that Gillian felt that she could confide in her. She had taken a liking to her as soon as they got talking together. Until then she had not known the young woman except just to say a brief word to her, and had got the impression that she preferred not to become involved. Gillian was tall and dark-haired, quite a striking looking woman, and she always dressed very smartly. Even now, in the comfort of her own home, she looked elegant in a stylish green blouse and a just above the knee length woollen skirt in muted shades of blue and green.

  ‘Yes, I must admit that a few of the ladies in your congregation tend to intimidate me,’ said Gillian. ‘You get them in all churches, of course. I suppose there will always be those who think that their way is right and that everyone else is out of step. That’s how I was made to feel when I married Graham, and so I’ve never gone anywhere at all.’

  Fiona nodded. ‘I do understand. You see . . . I didn’t attend church for several years either. A different reason from yours, but I felt that there were those who would disapprove of me. It wasn’t till I met Simon that I started going again. He’s taught me that it’s how you stand in the eyes of God that’s important, not the opinion of other people . . . and that there’s room for everyone in God’s church, every sort of church. Anyway, I mustn’t preach, Gillian.’ She smiled. ‘That’s my husband’s job. But I do hope I can persuade you to come along to our first meeting.’

  And there she was, a few weeks later, with her next door neighbour, a woman called Vera who was about the same age as Gillian and who attended St Peter’s church from time to time. Simon had been delighted that Fiona had made a breakthrough with Gillian. The woman, at Fiona’s suggestion, had gone along to the rectory to have a chat with him. She had wanted so much to belong to St Peter’s along with her husband, she told him, but having been confirmed into the Roman Catholic faith at an early age she had felt that she could not do so, especially when it came to taking part in the Communion service, which the Roman Catholics referred to as Mass.

  ‘We welcome everyone to our Communion service,’ Simon told her, ‘irrespective of which church you belong to. But if you would feel happier about it you could attend confirmation classes, and become a full member of the Church of England.’

  Not only had Gillian agreed to do this, but she had persuaded her teenage son and daughter to go along to the youth club, a first step, she hoped, to their involvement in the church.

  Simon made a brief appearance at the first meeting of the new group. He made everyone welcome at his and Fiona’s home, and wished them every success and blessing on their new venture. ‘But this is my wife’s project,’ he added, ‘so I shall make myself scarce. I know she has all sorts of ideas. So . . . cheerio for now, everyone.’

  Fiona felt nervous to be in charge, even though it was only a small group. She had never done anything like it before, but all the ladies were smiling at her encouragingly. Her friend, Joan, winked at her as she began to speak.

  ‘So . . . as my husband has said, welcome to our home. Now . . . where shall we begin?’

  ‘Let’s start at the very beginning,’ said Joan.

  ‘A very good place to start!’ added Heather Milner. They all laughed and the ice was broken.

  ‘What we need to decide is how we want to proceed – what sort of meetings we would like – and how often we want to meet . . .’

  It was decided that they should meet fortnightly on a Tuesday evening, which was not the same day as the Mothers’ Union, although that was an afternoon meeting. It was decided, also, that there was to be no restriction as to age, even though the word ‘young’ featured in the name.

  ‘You’re as young as you feel,’ said Joan Tweedale. She looked round at the group of women. ‘Oh dear! I think I must be the oldest one here.’

  ‘Then we can all benefit from the wisdom of your age,’ smiled Fiona. ‘We can’t stipulate a cut-off point – say fifty or fifty-five – can we? I’m sure we all know women in their sixties or seventies who
are young at heart, but I think they will have the common sense to realize that they might be a little too . . . elderly.’ She was imagining Mrs Bayliss or Mrs Fowler coming along and she smiled to herself. It was not very likely though; Even Mrs B would know that this was a pie into which she could not put her finger.

  Fiona was to be the chairman, for want of a better word. They agreed to stick to the traditional term rather than say ‘chairwoman’ or the ridiculous name of ‘chair’. They needed a treasurer, too, as they agreed to pay the nominal sum of a shilling each meeting. The money could be used to pay visiting speakers, or maybe help towards a Christmas treat – a meal out or a theatre visit. Joan agreed to do that, and when it was suggested that Gillian should be the secretary she agreed that she would try.

  ‘Does that mean I have to take minutes of the meeting and all that?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I think we must act in a businesslike way,’ said Fiona. ‘But we’ll make it all quite informal. And perhaps you could write the invitations to visiting speakers, Gillian?’

  Fiona was delighted that Gillian was willing to be actively involved. It was agreed, however, that they could make use of the talents of the members themselves to give some of the talks. Gillian admitted that she was quite good at dressmaking and that she had made the outfit that she was wearing that evening, a simple shift dress in a soft woollen material in a lovely shade of deep pink. Fiona enquired if she had also made the green skirt and blouse she had been wearing at home, and she agreed that she had. She said that she would be willing to pass on a few tips about dressmaking, ‘which is not all that difficult once you know how’, and lend a hand to the ladies who required one.

  Her offer was greeted with enthusiasm, as was that of her next-door neighbour, Vera, who went to flower-arranging classes and offered to do a Christmas demonstration.

  Joan offered to help with simple arts and crafts, another lady said she was quite good at cake icing, and another offered to show slides of her recent holiday in Switzerland. And Fiona thought, Oh help! What can I do? I really ought to offer to do something.

  She wasn’t much good at handicrafts, and she hadn’t been on any exotic holidays, but as the rector’s wife she would be expected to give a talk occasionally. The thing she enjoyed above all in her leisure time was reading, and she was a librarian. She suggested that she might talk about the new trends in books and what women in their age group were currently borrowing from the library. She also offered, very bravely, to be the first speaker at the meeting in a fortnight’s time. Gillian agreed to plan a programme to take them as far as the spring of the following year and to see about having it printed.

  Fiona had been busy in the kitchen all afternoon, and when the business part of the meeting ended they all enjoyed a cup of tea or coffee and sampled her fruit loaf and Victoria sponge cake. To her relief they all pronounced it delicious, and she felt that their comments were sincere. They agreed, however, to take it in turns to bring the refreshments and not leave it all to Fiona.

  She looked round at the group of happily chatting young women and felt that this first meeting was proving successful. She knew she must have a word with each of the members; Sandra Jarvis, for instance and her friend Karen Wilde. They were both in their mid-twenties, the youngest two there tonight. They lived on the housing estate on the outskirts of Aberthwaite that had been built just after the war. Fiona knew that Sandra had three children and Karen had two, and that the ones who were old enough attended the Sunday school. She guessed that a rectory was not the sort of place they normally visited and that she must make them feel welcome. They both said how much they were enjoying themselves.

  ‘It’s a real treat to be rid of the kids for a while, isn’t it, Karen?’ said Sandra. ‘Our hubbies are babysitting tonight. It’ll do ’em good, won’t it?’

  Fiona agreed that it would. ‘You’ll come again then, will you?’ she asked.

  ‘We sure will,’ said Karen. ‘Talking about us using our talents, I don’t know as I’ve got any, but Sandra’s a lovely singer. She used to do a bit of entertaining round and about, before she had the kids, didn’t you, Sandy?’

  ‘Hey, shut up, you!’ retorted Sandra. ‘I’ve not done any for ages. I did used to like singing though . . .’ she added wistfully.

  ‘That’s great,’ said Fiona. ‘I wonder if you would like to join the church choir?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that,’ Sandra replied hurriedly. ‘I don’t sing anything churchy like. But I wouldn’t mind singing at a concert, perhaps . . . sometime. Something a bit . . . well, you know . . . popular stuff.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ said Fiona. ‘There hasn’t been a church concert lately. I remember going to one soon after I met Simon, and it wasn’t too churchy, as you put it.’ She laughed. ‘I know just what you mean. I enjoy all sorts of music. I’ll talk to Simon and see if we can arrange one before too long. I’m so pleased to have had a chat with you two. Excuse me now; I must go and have a word with some of the others.’

  She was pleased at everyone’s enthusiasm; they all promised to come again, next and every time.

  Heather spoke for herself and her friend, Ruth. ‘Well done, Fiona. You’ve got us off to a flying start. It’s just what we needed; something for us young – well, youngish – women. We’ve enjoyed it, haven’t we, Ruth?’

  Her friend replied quietly, ‘Yes; very much so.’

  ‘I’m really glad you’ve come,’ said Fiona. ‘I know you’re both very busy people with your teaching jobs and . . . everything. And I know that Simon appreciates your work with the church council, Ruth.’

  ‘I enjoy doing it,’ said Ruth, a little curtly, Fiona felt. But then she smiled, albeit a trifle warily, at Fiona. ‘I’m glad I came. I’m very busy, as you say, but Heather persuaded me. And . . . I wish you and Simon every happiness,’ she added.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fiona. She felt that Ruth’s remark was sincere. ‘That’s very kind of you. Yes, we are . . . very happy. I’m trying to be a good wife to him; a good rector’s wife.’

  Ruth nodded. ‘Yes . . . I’m sure you are.’

  As Fiona moved away her sharp ears overheard Heather’s remark. ‘There; that wasn’t too bad, was it?’

  And Ruth’s reply. ‘No . . . She’s very pleasant, isn’t she?’

  Fiona felt a little guilty. She knew she had been straining to hear what they said, and she was convinced now that Ruth must have had quite strong feelings for Simon, whether or not he had felt the same about her.

  Most of the ladies were making moves to depart now as it was getting on for ten o’clock. Fiona knew that it was time for her to bring the meeting to a close. Simon had told her that it was customary to close all meetings with a prayer, and she felt nervous about something that she had never done before.

  ‘What shall I say?’ she asked him. ‘It’s alright praying on my own, or with you . . . , as we do sometimes. But with everyone else . . . I’m not used to it.’

  ‘You soon will be,’ Simon assured her. ‘Just say the evening collect. You can’t go wrong with that. And it will be easier the next time, I promise.’

  She took a deep breath and said, ‘Shall we have a short prayer before we go home, ladies?’ They all bowed their heads and Fiona began, ‘Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord . . .’ They all joined in with the familiar words that they recited at the Sunday evening service, and Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t too bad, she thought, and she knew she would not feel nervous the next time.

  Joan stayed behind when all the others had gone. ‘I’ll give you a hand with the washing up,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s something else we should have a rota for. It’s not fair to leave it all to you.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ replied Fiona. ‘I’ve never minded washing up. They’ve all got to get back to their homes and families. I’m really pleased it’s gone so well.’

  ‘So you should be,’ said Joan. ‘Well done. I think you did a wonderful job. You were really confident and in ch
arge of things.’

  ‘I was nervous,’ Fiona admitted, ‘but they all wanted to help, didn’t they? And what a lot of different talents they have. Simon’s always saying that we should make full use of our talents. I’m not really sure what mine are though,’ she laughed. ‘I was so impressed at Gillian Heap making all those lovely clothes she wears.’

  ‘Yes; she’s very good at dressmaking. She knits as well; she comes in the shop for wool and patterns for jumpers that she makes for all the family. I’m glad you got her to come along. Don’t say that you don’t know what your talents are, Fiona. You’ve proved that you’re good at welcoming people and making them feel at ease. Look at Gillian, and those two young women, Sandra and Karen; they just needed a bit of encouragement, and that’s what you gave them. And you can sing, and bake; that cake and fruit loaf were delicious. You’re turning into a first-class clergy wife, you know.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fiona with a smile. ‘I’m glad you think so. I am trying . . .’ She paused, looking round from the sink. ‘Can I ask you something, Joan?’

  ‘Yes, of course; what is it?’

  ‘Ruth Makepeace . . . Did she have . . . er . . . a fancy for Simon?’

  Joan smiled. ‘Well, yes. To be truthful, she did. She wasn’t the only one though. Just think about it. A young charismatic clergyman who’s just lost his wife. Ripe for the picking, wasn’t he?’

  ‘And what about Simon? Was he interested in Ruth?’

  Joan hesitated. Then, ‘I don’t think he ever was,’ she said, ‘not in the way you mean. They worked together, of course, so I suppose it was inevitable that she should get fond – perhaps too fond – of him. But he never gave her any real reason to hope, I feel sure of that. And then you came along. It was love at first sight, wasn’t it, for both of you?’