by Pam Rhodes
Two hours later, he was ready for the cup of tea that was always on offer in Matron’s room. Shirley McCann came across as a no-nonsense, frighteningly efficient boss, especially when it came to the high standards she demanded of her staff, but it didn’t take long in her company to see her softer side. She always made time for a soothing word to a troubled resident, or compassionate reassurance for worried family members.
That day, Shirley was plainly not alone: the sound of delighted laughter drifted out of her office as Neil came round the corner.
“Oh Neil, come and hear this!” Shirley giggled as he walked into the room. “Sylvie, tell him what happened!”
As Sylvie was a regular worshipper at St Stephen’s, Neil knew her well, so he sat down in a high-backed chair and took the cup of tea Shirley handed to him.
“You know Joe in Room 8 up on the first floor? Sweet man, not all that old really – he’s only seventy-five, isn’t he, Shirley?”
Neil nodded. “The Geordie? Lovely chap. Great friends with little Irish Mary?”
“That’s the one – and, of course, you know Mary too! Do you remember they arrived at the Mayflower on the same day and practically fell over each other on the front door mat? Well, you probably don’t – but they struck up a friendship on that day and it’s just gone from strength to strength. They’re always together. You rarely see one without the other.”
“So are they OK?” asked Neil, sipping his tea.
“Couldn’t be better! In fact, yesterday was a bit of a red-letter day for them, because Joe finally plucked up courage to ask Mary to marry him!”
“My goodness! What did she say?”
Sylvie’s expression softened. “It was really sweet. He got down on one knee and everything – and she said yes!”
“That’s wonderful!”
“It really was. We broke open a bottle of Asti Spumante and they spent the whole afternoon making plans for their life together. It was very romantic!”
“So when’s the happy day? Can I do the honours?”
“Well, the whole idea nearly came a cropper because when the bell was rung as usual to warn everyone that tea would be served in half an hour, Joe and Mary went back to their own rooms to freshen up before their meal, and that was when the doubts set in! Once he’d got behind his own door, Joe realized that although he could clearly remember asking Mary to marry him, he couldn’t quite recall if she had actually said yes!”
“Heavens, what did he do?” asked Neil, his tea completely forgotten as the story unfolded.
“Well,” said Sylvie, thoroughly enjoying her role as storyteller, “he couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer, so he headed off down the corridor to knock on Mary’s door – and that was where I saw him. I heard everything. He blurted out to her that he was worried she hadn’t actually given him a reply to his proposal, and Mary just burst out laughing. She threw her arms round his neck and said she was really glad he’d come, because she knew she’d said yes to someone – but couldn’t remember who!”
* * *
Debs was a police officer. She was used to getting information out of people. Why hadn’t he remembered that? Graham realized he was in trouble the moment he started telling her that Neil had volunteered to come and help him move the following Saturday. She said how nice that would be, because Wendy would really love it if the four of them went out for a pizza once the work was finished “just like old times”. That was when Graham’s expression must have changed enough for her to go into her “interrogating officer” mode.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing. Neil won’t be able to stay for the evening because he’s busy.”
“Doing what?”
“How should I know? Sunday’s always busy for him. He’s a vicar.”
“This is Saturday.”
“He’s got to get ready for Sunday.”
“That’s never stopped him going out on a Saturday night before.”
“Well, he’s not coming for the pizza. That’s it.”
“Because he doesn’t want to? Neil’s always starving. Why wouldn’t he want to go out for a pizza?”
Debs looked thoughtful as Graham tried to dig himself out of the hole he’d talked himself into.
“It’s not that he doesn’t want pizza. He just doesn’t want pizza…”
“… with us!” finished Debs, a note of triumph in her voice. “Or, more precisely, with Wendy. Am I right?”
“Look, don’t say anything to Wendy. He just feels it would be better if they weren’t thrown together that way.”
“Better for whom? Wendy would love to see him. She’s got high hopes of them getting back together. Wouldn’t that be a nice relaxing way for them to feel comfortable with each other again?”
Graham sighed. “That’s not going to happen, Debs.”
“Why not?” Debs’s voice was sharp. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because he’s got someone else!”
There! He’d said it – and instantly regretted his promise to Neil to keep that information to himself. Neil didn’t know Debs. She could be terrifying!
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Graham!”
“I don’t know, I really don’t – but I think it’s all quite new because he’s just taking things gently. They’re not making it public for the time being, but he obviously feels very sensitive about the whole business.”
“So he’s really not interested at all in Wendy?”
“As a friend, yes, but nothing more.”
“Well, Wendy’s most certainly interested in him, although personally I think she needs her head examined!”
“Don’t breathe a word about this to her, Debs, please. I promised Neil.”
“She’s my best friend. I’ll have to ring her. She needs to know.”
“Debs, please!”
Debs moved closer to Graham and took his hand in hers.
“Graham, I know you promised, but if it was me rather than Wendy, I’d want to know. I just don’t want her to end up hurt because she’s not emotionally prepared for the man she loves turning up with another woman on his arm.”
“But she broke off with him!”
“Yes, but she didn’t mean it! She was just teaching him a lesson. She’s perfect for Neil. Anyone can see that. He’s just too thick to work it out for himself.”
Graham knew it was no use. There was no stopping her. He groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands.
* * *
After their meeting with Margaret, Val and Peter were feeling the need to celebrate, so they went for an early evening meal at their favourite country pub. Between courses they scribbled lists in Peter’s notebook about guests for the wedding, possible venues for the reception, thoughts on the menu and colour schemes. They touched and giggled and gazed and held hands as they savoured the thought that they would finally become man and wife. They talked about where they would live, as their plan was to sell both their houses and move into a new home together. Val had already spotted a bungalow she wanted Peter to see later that week. They faced a future full of promise, excitement and contentment, and they couldn’t be happier at the prospect.
Val was due to be on duty very early the next morning, so it was just after nine when Peter reluctantly dropped her off at her door with a lingering kiss that left them both longing for more. Throughout the five-minute car journey between her house and his, Peter’s thoughts were full of love for the wonderful woman who was about to share his life. He realized now that he couldn’t really remember ever being happy throughout the thirty long years he’d been married to Glenda, and by going off with her boss she had made it very clear that she too had been far from content. Glenda had reached out for her own happiness. Now it was his turn.
As he turned the car into his drive, he realized he must have left the light on in the lounge. He couldn’t remember ever doing that before. Love must be sending him a little bit mad…
/> He turned the key in the lock and walked into the hall, not taking in at first what he was seeing: a mountain of boxes and cases piled up in front of the stairs. And just as, with horror, he began to recognize a few of the items strewn on the floor in front of him, he looked up to see a figure standing in the lounge doorway.
“I’m back,” said Glenda. “This is my house every bit as much as it’s yours. And may I remind you, husband dear, that we are still married.”
“But Glenda, I don’t understand…”
“It’s over between me and Roland. What a worm that man turned out to be! I’m back, Peter – so you’d better take my cases upstairs and make me a welcome cup of tea!”
CHAPTER 9
“How’s it going, Neil? Are you managing to get a word in edgeways with the terrifying Margaret as your rector?”
Balancing a cup and saucer in one hand and a digestive biscuit in the other, Neil turned to find Bishop Paul at his side.
“Yes, thank you, sir, I’m fine.”
“Paul, please. Call me Paul.”
“Paul,” agreed Neil uncomfortably as he looked for a space to put his cup down. “Yes, it’s going well. Margaret is a great help, very encouraging.”
“I knew when we appointed her that she would be like a dose of salts for Dunbridge. The work there got a bit stale – Victor had been rector at St Stephen’s for over two decades by the time he retired. The congregation was certainly dwindling before Margaret took charge.”
“It’s an interesting community,” agreed Neil.
“And how do you find these archdeaconry get-togethers? It must be good to see your fellow students from theological college now you’re all established in your roles as curate?”
Neil looked around at the company in the room with its mixture of familiar and new faces.
“We’re all in such different parishes. Rob over there is probably the one I know best, but he’s in a busy inner-city church. It couldn’t be more different from the rural community I’ve become part of in Dunbridge.”
“Any regrets?”
Neil considered the question for a few seconds before answering. “Not really. Rob’s naturally more confident than me. Large congregations and inner-city problems suit him.”
“In my experience, it’s no good going to a small town if all you want is a quiet life,” replied Bishop Paul. “In fact, a small community often means that you get more involved in the lives of not just your congregation, but your neighbours who may never dream of coming to church.”
“That’s true,” agreed Neil. “You may not approve, but I enjoy a pint of real ale now and again, so I make a point of popping into different pubs around the town just to talk to whoever I meet there.”
“Do you wear your dog collar?”
“Usually, yes.”
“What effect does that have?”
“A good one, on the whole. People come up and talk to me about their marriage break-ups, their money problems – and once in a while, their tussle with faith.”
“Outreach and evangelism at its best,” laughed Bishop Paul. “I thoroughly approve.”
“I’m not sure some of the more formidable ladies of our congregation do. They’re praying for my soul!”
“Well, that’s a bonus!”
“I know. Honestly, I need all the prayer I can get…”
“Knees still knocking at times?”
“Definitely.”
“Mouth dry before you start a sermon?”
Neil nodded.
“Terrified you’re going to lose important papers, baptize a baby with the wrong name or forget to turn up to an important meeting that you actually organized yourself?”
“Yes! Who’s been talking?”
“All of us. Every minister in the land has known that feeling at some time or other. The job’s so complex. Being a spiritual guide is sometimes the least of your concerns among all the other jobs that need to be got through from morning to night every day of the week. You sort out your timetable only to find that two funerals land on you, or you’ve got extra parishioners to go and see, and your carefully planned schedule goes out the window. You end up constantly exhausted, overworked and overwhelmed – but that’s ministry!”
“And that’s what I’ve signed up for. I don’t mind the relentlessness of it, really I don’t. I just worry whether I’m capable of doing it well enough. I hate the thought that I might let people down through my inexperience or lack of confidence.”
“Well, from what I hear, your confidence is growing daily. In fact, I’ve been getting very good reports of you…”
“Really?”
“Really, and not just from the church community either. Be encouraged, Neil. You’re still in your training period, potty training as they affectionately call it. This is exactly the time for you to be finding your feet, making your mistakes and discovering your own strengths.”
Neil fell silent as he digested this.
“And, dear boy,” said Bishop Paul with real kindness in his voice, “I’m always available if you need a chat. In confidence, so you don’t need to worry that anything you say will go further, but please feel free to come and talk to me any time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Paul.”
“Thank you, Bishop Paul. I appreciate that, I really do.”
“More tea, Vicar?”
Looking down at the cold tea in the cup he’d abandoned at the start of their conversation, Neil nodded.
“Don’t mind if I do!”
* * *
Peter was at the house when Neil got home. Since the shock of Glenda’s reappearance two nights before, when he’d listened to her demands for less than five minutes before walking straight back out of the front door, Peter had taken up residence in Neil’s back bedroom while he tried to get his mind round what was happening. It seemed he could think of nothing else because, without even acknowledging that Neil had been away for the whole day, Peter took up their conversation as if there’d been no interruption at all.
“I’m not giving in to her! In every practical sense we’re divorced. It’s only the decree absolute to come through now, so she can’t do this. She just can’t!”
“Have you tried talking to her today?”
“There’s no talking to that woman. I’ve had years of her talking at me rather than with me.”
“Would it help for me to come with you? I could be a sort of arbitrator…”
“Have you met Glenda? She’s not interested in anyone else’s opinion but her own.”
Neil nodded in silent agreement, remembering how terrifying he’d always found Glenda’s presence.
“How could she do this to me, just when I have the first chance of happiness in years?”
“Does she know you’re planning to marry Val?”
“I’ve not told her. Until now, since the day she left, there’s been no contact between us except through solicitors. Mind you, Christine has probably mentioned Val to her. I know Christine’s been keeping in touch with her mother, which is only right.”
“How have Christine and her brother reacted to the breakup of your marriage? I know they’ve been very supportive to you, but have they got some sympathy with their mum too?”
“John’s furious with her. From what he said, he wants to have nothing more to do with her. That would be a shame, because he and Celia have two great boys who could end up never really knowing their grandmother, especially with them living way up in Scotland. Christine’s trying to stay neutral, although when I spoke to her husband Mark last night, he said that she’s hopping mad at her mother’s behaviour. She’s ringing me when she finishes teaching this evening. I have to say she’s been wonderful about the whole thing.”
“And Val? How is she taking the news?”
Peter’s smile was wry. “You know Val, always calm, always kind, always more worried about others than herself. This has been a terrible shock for her, though – for both of us.”
“And wh
at does your solicitor say? Can Glenda stop the decree absolute going through?”
“Not unless both of us agree to it, and that’s not going to happen – but Glenda knows me well enough to realize the legal route isn’t the best way to get to me. She knows how committed I am to my faith. She knows I take the vows I made in church much more seriously than the bit of legal wording on our marriage certificate. She’s clever enough to challenge me on spiritual grounds. I promised before God to love and cherish her until death do us part, and she’s still very much alive. As if I could forget it!”
At that moment the phone rang. Without even considering that it was Neil’s phone rather than his, Peter rushed into the hall to pick up the receiver. Obviously the call was for him because half an hour later, when Neil passed him on his way to the kitchen, Peter was still deep in conversation. Before long, his head appeared around the kitchen door.
“Neil! Were you serious about coming along with me when I talk to Glenda?”
“Of course, if you think it would help.”
“And could you make tomorrow lunchtime?”
Neil’s mind raced as he tried to picture his diary. In the end, there was little more important than supporting a dear friend and parishioner at a time of need like this.
“Of course,” he replied. “At the house?”
“One o’clock?”
“Fine. I’ll make sure I’m free.”
And, a man with a mission, Peter ran upstairs to his room and shut the door.
* * *
“Brought reinforcements, have you?” Glenda stepped back to open the front door so that Neil and Peter could enter. “Welcome to my home, Neil. I’d offer you a cup of tea, but Peter hasn’t bought any milk.”
“This isn’t a social call, Glenda,” said Peter stiffly, “and Neil is here simply as an observer. We need to talk.”
