Kitabı oku: «The Newcomer», sayfa 5

Helen pushed a handful of chopped grapes into a bowl and put her knife down. ‘What’s wrong with you? You normally like a kitchen supper with friends.’

‘I don’t trust him.’

‘Robert?’

‘Too smarmy by half.’

‘He’s charming. And devoted to Angela. Two things you could learn from him, actually.’

Piran chuckled at that. He hadn’t seen Helen for a few days and had missed her. He walked towards her and put his arms around her. ‘You ’ad smooth and devoted from that womanising idiot you was married to, remember?’ He nuzzled into her neck, his beard tickling her. ‘But I reckon I suit you better.’

Helen felt her shoulders relax. She had missed him too. ‘I need to turn the roast potatoes.’

‘They’ll be fine for a couple more minutes.’

She ducked out of his arms with a kiss. ‘The reason you and I work is because you give me the space to be me and I give you the space to be you.’

Piran’s eyes, as dark as the night ocean and as deep, softened. ‘I don’t say this often, but thank you for putting up with me. I know I’m a pain in the arse at times.’

‘Most of the time, actually.’

‘But we belong together. I don’t know what I would do without you.’

Helen frowned comically. ‘Who are you? What have you done with Piran Ambrose? The grumpy, selfish, commitment-phobe I call my boyfriend?’

‘If you’re gonna be like that, I’m off to the pub then.’

There was a knock at the door.

‘That’s them.’ Helen looked around at the untidied kitchen. ‘Shit.’

‘All right. All right. I’ll let them in.’ Piran moved to the door. ‘You get a bottle out of the fridge.’

‘I do love you,’ she said.

Piran growled a bit before saying, ‘Likewise.’

‘This is so kind of you.’ Angela handed her coat to Piran. ‘Our first night out for a long time, isn’t it, Robert?’

‘I can’t remember the last time.’ He looked around at the inside of Gull’s Cry, Helen’s cottage. ‘This is lovely.’

‘Very small,’ said Helen, passing her guests a glass of cold wine each. ‘But I love it.’

‘Typical cottage for this area,’ said Piran. ‘Villagers round here didn’t have money to build mansions like up in London.’

‘I love the way the front door opens straight into the lounge, it’s so welcoming. And the fireplace is wonderful.’ Angela smiled. ‘Can I see the kitchen?’

‘Sure. It’s almost the same size as the sitting room. Come and see.’

‘Another Aga! I’m not sure how to use the one in the vicarage. I’m learning as I go but maybe you could give me some tips?’

‘Of course.’ Helen was liking Angela more and more. ‘It’s basically like a camp fire. Use common sense. When you have time I’ll come over and show you. Penny couldn’t get her head round it at the start either but now she really is a good cook.’

Over dinner, Angela had to get something off her chest. ‘Piran, I must apologise for our first meeting on the beach, and also thank you for saving my aunt’s life. She was very rude to you.’

Helen answered, ‘I suspect Piran may have been less than charming to your aunt. He doesn’t always remember to take his charm pills.’

‘The water was bleddy cold, woman!’ Piran said. ‘It didn’t improve my mood. But I am sorry if I caused offence to an old lady. I may have been a bit gruff.’

Robert stepped in. ‘You’d better not let her hear you calling her an old lady. She believes she’s still in her prime.’

‘She is!’ said Angela. ‘More stamina than any of us. But she does tend to be free with her opinions and that day she was less than gracious to you.’

‘Was she OK? Afterwards?’ Piran asked.

‘Right as rain,’ smiled Angela. ‘But thank you again for rescuing her.’

Helen stood up and collected the empty plates from her guests. As she put them in the dishwasher she asked Piran, ‘Would you get the fruit salad and ice cream out the fridge, darling?’

‘Ice cream? No clotted?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t get any. Did you?’ Helen asked pointedly.

‘Why would I get clotted cream?’ he said, pulling the bowl of chopped fruit out of the fridge.

‘Well, if you like it, you can get it,’ smiled Helen. ‘That’s the way things work around here.’

She took the bowl from him and placed it into the centre of the table while he pulled a tub of Cornish vanilla ice cream from the freezer.

Piran sat down and said to Robert, ‘Women ’spect us to be bleddy mind readers. Sometimes, I come in here to see Helen, and from the look on her face I can tell I have failed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.’

Robert looked at Angela and thought better of agreeing with Piran. ‘Well, you know, sometimes perhaps we are just preoccupied with our own things and forget that. I mean, Angela and I have decided to reverse our roles for this coming year. She has always been the one at home, keeping the home fires burning, shouldering the child care. I never had to think about anything domestic. She did it all while I worked in the world I love. Now, I shall do the same for her while she’s here.’

‘Oh, aye? Gonna be one of them househusbands, are you?’ growled Piran.

‘Yes,’ smiled Robert. ‘And happily.’

Helen passed a bowl of fruit to Robert. ‘Well, I think that’s wonderful. It’s high time some of the men in this village had a bit of a shake-up and began to value what the women do around here.’

‘Was that aimed at me?’ Piran said gruffly. ‘’Cos you know perfectly well, Helen Merrifield, that I treat all people as equals.’

‘I do know,’ Helen answered, ‘you treat all people equally badly.’ She handed a bowl to Angela, laughing. ‘And yet, beneath that beard and hard exterior, this man here is the kindest man I have ever known.’

Piran tucked into his pudding with a dark look.

‘You are, Piran. And you know it.’ Helen took his free hand and addressed Robert and Angela. ‘He and the Reverend Simon have known each other since they were boys. They swam, fished and surfed together. When Simon was deciding to go into the Church, it was Piran he turned to. And when the opportunity to help in Brazil came, Piran was the one who encouraged him. And when Piran had a difficult time some years back, Simon was there for him.’

Angela was sympathetic. ‘May I ask what happened?’

Piran put his spoon down and rubbed his chin. ‘My fiancée was killed by a hit-and-run driver.’

‘Shit,’ said Robert.

‘’Twas,’ Piran said bluntly.

‘It’s why Simon and Penny’s daughter is called Jenna. In honour of the memory of Piran’s girlfriend,’ Helen finished.

‘That’s lovely,’ said Angela. ‘You must be missing Simon, Piran.’

‘Yeah.’

The four of them sat quietly in the low light of the kitchen.

After a couple of minutes Piran got up. ‘Fancy a beer, Robert?’

‘Erm …’ Robert checked his watch. ‘What do you think, Angela?’

Helen was suspicious. ‘Are you going to the pub, or having it here?’

‘Oh, here, here,’ said Piran, pretending the thought of the pub had never entered his head.

‘Go on,’ Angela said to Robert. ‘I’ll help Helen clear up.’

Piran took two bottles of Doom Bar from the fridge and, followed by Robert, carried them into the lounge and began stoking up the dwindling fire.

‘You don’t need to help me,’ said Helen to Angela.

‘Oh, come on. We’ll have done in five minutes,’ smiled Angela, picking up a tea towel. ‘You wash and I’ll dry. And actually, I’d like to pick your brains.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘What clubs are available to the women in the village?’

‘Clubs? You mean like the WI?’

‘Do you have one?’

‘Yes, but it’s run by Audrey Tipton, who bullies all her members into submission. If you’re thinking of infiltrating them, don’t bother. It’s her way or the highway.’

‘I’m thinking more along the lines of somewhere where women can find empowerment. Be heard. Be supported. Get advice. Real women being real women. Discussing everything in a safe space. Parenting, sex, cooking, retraining, keeping fit, a book club, politics, campaigns …’

Helen laughed. ‘Nothing like that round here.’

‘Do you think there would be an appetite for it? If I started a weekly women’s meeting?’

Helen put the last plate into the dishwasher and handed Angela a pan to dry. ‘Could be. It would be something you’d have to sound out. I’m warning you, Audrey will be furious and she will campaign hard against it.’

Angela put the dried pan on top of the Aga. ‘Well, I’m always up for a challenge.’ She shook out her damp tea towel and hung it over the rail of the range. ‘I’ve got my first parish council meeting.’

‘Oh, yes. Mike Bates, the chairman, told me. He’s very excited to meet you properly.’

‘He emailed me telling me he was looking forward to hearing “my exciting new plans for the parish”.’

‘And?’ asked Helen, fetching two glasses and a bottle of whisky. ‘You’ll have one for the road while the boys finish their beer, won’t you?’

‘Um, OK. Thanks.’

Helen sat opposite Angela and poured the Scotch. ‘Sorry I interrupted you. So, the parish meeting?’

‘Ah, yes, well, do you think it would be the right place to suggest the women’s group?’

‘Definitely. I think it could be just the thing the women of Pendruggan need.’

Angela flushed with pride – or with the whisky – raised her glass triumphantly. ‘To the women of Pendruggan.’

8

‘It’s not exactly PMQs, is it?’ Robert teased as he cleaned his teeth before bed. ‘No tricky negotiation with Europe or the Middle East. It’s just a meet-and-greet. All the non-churchgoers want to examine you. That’s all.’

Angela stepped out of the shower and took the towel Robert proffered her, toothbrush wedged in his mouth.

‘I know but …’ She wrapped the bath sheet round her. ‘It’s terrifying. I don’t know what they expect of me. Should I sit quietly and just listen at first? Should I go in with all guns blazing and a manifesto for the next year? I don’t want to put any noses out of joint.’

Robert had rinsed his mouth and was patting his face dry as he listened. ‘You’re not scared of Audrey, are you?’

‘Yes.’

Angela stood in front of him, her tiny frame wrapped in the towel, her short hair curling over her ears, looking lost and vulnerable. He placed his hands on her wet shoulders.

‘You are so adorable, how could they do anything but agree with everything you tell them?’

‘But I don’t know what to tell them.’

‘Shall we workshop some ideas?’

‘Don’t laugh at me. Actually, I have jotted some stuff down on my iPad. I’ll review them in the morning.’

He walked back into the bedroom and pulled the duvet back. ‘Come on. Into bed, please. You need your sleep.’

She wandered in to join him. ‘I like Piran and Helen, don’t you?’

‘She’s all right but he’s a bit too blokey for me.’

‘You mean you feel your position as alpha male is at risk?’ Angela joked.

‘God, no. No. Not at all!’

Angela got into bed beside him and snuggled against his shoulder.

‘Sure?’

‘Well … maybe a bit.’

The following morning, over breakfast, Angela ran her women’s group idea past Faith and Mamie.

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ said Mamie, digging into her pot of Duerr’s thick-cut marmalade. ‘You should write it all down.’

‘I have.’

‘Go for it, Mum,’ said Faith, kissing her mother goodbye and bundling up her incredibly heavy school rucksack.

‘Thank you, darling.’ Angela helped her daughter with the webbing straps. ‘Are you sure you need to take all this with you every day?’

‘Told you, Mum. No desks to keep things in like in your day.’

‘Some things just aren’t right. Anyway, what would you like for dinner this evening?’

Faith was rushing to the front door. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you, I might be a bit late. There’s another newbie just joined school, and I might go have a snack before I get back.’

‘Yes, OK. What’s her name?’ But Faith had already banged the front door and gone.

‘She’ll be fine,’ said Mamie, knowing Angela’s maternal anxiety meter had leapt up several notches. ‘Now, give me the shopping list and any other jobs you want done today. I don’t want you worrying about a thing while at the meeting.’

Angela smiled gratefully.

Robert came in to join them. ‘Want me to come with you?’ he asked.

‘No, no. I’ll be fine.’ She set her shoulders back. ‘I can do this.’

The village hall was on the opposite side of the green to the vicarage. Built between the wars, it had a long history of village meetings, the Home Guard, Boy Scouts, amateur dramatics and more jumble sales than anyone could remember. It sat behind a hedge of elderflower, with wild fuchsia and dog rose laced through its blossoms. Beyond the hedge was a pleasant stretch of well-kept grass where Cubs and Brownies would picnic or toddlers play safely. The hall itself was long and low, made of dark wood, with a raised veranda where men could read the cricket results in the shade and discuss England’s sporting chances in football or rugby.

As Angela mounted the steps, she could see, through a window to the left of her, a kitchen with a tea urn already steaming and a group of women chatting as they laid out green china cups and saucers.

She girded her loins and opened one of the double doors. The smell of small children’s feet and creosote took her straight back to her primary school days.

In the hall ahead of her were chairs laid out in ordered lines, facing the raised stage at the other end.

‘Hello,’ said a man with thinning sandy hair and a red jumper. ‘You must be Angela. I’m Mike Bates. Chairman of the parish council. Nice to meet you.’ He shook her hand. ‘Very good service on Sunday, by the way.’

‘Thank you.’

Mike had a slight army bearing, oozing old-fashioned courtesy.

He took her arm. ‘Let me introduce you to everyone.’

So many new faces and names to remember. Angela smiled and nodded as she was exhibited to each one.

Eventually she came across Helen, who was holding a cup of tea and talking to a youngish man; his age was hard to tell. He was wearing a boiler suit and holding a glass of Ribena.

‘Helen, thank goodness for a familiar face,’ Angela said in relief. ‘And thank you for a marvellous supper last night.’

‘My pleasure.’ Helen bent and kissed Angela’s cheek. ‘Let me introduce you to Tony Brown, the most talented gardener in Cornwall.’

‘Hello,’ said Angela, holding her hand out to him. ‘Are you the same Tony who helps out in the vicarage garden?’

‘I’m Simple Tony. That’s what my mum and dad called me and that’s who I am.’

‘Simply Tony? Well, I’m simply Angela.’

Helen intervened. ‘No, this wonderful man is known as Simple Tony. That’s what he likes to be called. It’s what we all call him, although sometimes I call him Mr Brown too. After the great gardener, Capability Brown.’

‘How lovely. I am very pleased to meet you, and I hope we see you at the vicarage when you are ready.’

‘Right.’

‘You met my aunt Mamie in the shop the other day, didn’t you?’

‘I did.’ He drank some of his Ribena. ‘I washed her car.’

‘Yes. She was very pleased. I’m glad I have met you. I think you looked after the vicarage garden for Simon and Penny. I would like you to keep doing that if you can?’

‘I can.’ Simple Tony hung onto his glass of Ribena with both hands, and looked at his feet.

‘Thank you.’ Angela smiled.

‘You got a dog?’

‘Yes. You may have seen him? A big Irish wolfhound. Very gentle. He’s called Mr Worthington.’

‘Why?’

‘It seemed to suit him.’

Mike bowled up. ‘Ah. So you have met this marvellous young man, have you? He has single-handedly transformed my lawn from scrub to bowling green, haven’t you, my boy?’

Tony nodded.

‘May I borrow you for a moment, Tony?’ Mike took him by the arm and began to lead him away. ‘I noticed that the churchyard needs a bit of work …’ Slowly they melted into the gathering crowd.

‘You’ve brought out all the gawpers today,’ smiled Helen to Angela.

‘Oh dear.’ Angela felt her top lip begin to perspire.

‘Don’t worry. You can’t blame them. You are the most exciting thing to happen to us.’

‘It makes me nervous,’ Angela said. ‘I get the feeling they will judge me by Simon’s high standards. He is so loved here.’

‘Yes, he is. That reminds me,’ said Helen. ‘I had an email yesterday. From him and Penny. They send their love to you.’

‘Are they settling?’

‘I think so but Penny said it was all a bit of a culture shock. They will write a longer email soon for the whole parish.’

Someone began tinkling a teacup with a spoon and calling for silence.

‘We’ll talk later,’ whispered Helen. ‘Let’s find some seats.’

Audrey was on the stage, standing beside Mike Bates at a sturdy table, which was covered with a well-ironed, white tablecloth, a pretty bowl of tulips in front of them.

‘Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen,’ Audrey boomed, ‘would you please take your seats?’

Angela sat with Helen on the end of a row, three from the back.

It took a few moments for everyone to settle. Coats were folded on laps, tissues taken from handbags, coughs quelled with barley twists and at last the room fell into an expectant silence.

Angela stuffed her big bag under her chair.

‘Mrs Whitehorn?’ Audrey’s voice came at Angela like a missile. ‘What are you doing there? Your place is here. At the top table. Next to me.’

‘Oh God!’ Helen’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have thought.’

Angela got to her feet. ‘It’s fine. No problem.’ She walked towards Audrey.

‘What were you doing sitting back there?’ Audrey said loudly.

Angela smiled at the loathsome woman. ‘I was looking forward to watching you, Audrey. An old hand like you, I could learn so much.’

Audrey screwed her lips up. ‘Well, yes, undoubtedly that’s true, but we have a place for you here.’

Mike Bates rose from his seat and guided Angela to her correct chair. ‘You are next to me, my dear.’

‘Thank you. I didn’t, I wasn’t expecting …’

He waved her words away. ‘I should have told you before. My fault entirely.’

Audrey began to clear her throat and addressed her audience.

‘To those of you who are not regular churchgoers, may I introduce you to dear Simon’s stand-in, Mrs Angela Whitehorn. Mrs Whitehorn has joined us today to learn more about how Pendruggan works.’

She turned to Angela. ‘We run a tight ship here, but you are welcome you to join in with any of our variety of clubs and activities during your stay here. Any questions you may wish to ask or information on anything going on in the village, I shall be happy to guide you. Not only am I parish secretary, but I also run the Women’s Institute, the Pendruggan Players am dram group, and I have been the long-time organiser of the Pendruggan Summer Fayre, our greatest fundraiser of the year. There is nothing you need do other than run the church. Oh, and you needn’t concern yourself with the cleaning or flowers either. I, and my merry band of helpers, do all of that too.’

Angela knew a problem when she saw one. And Audrey was going to be a problem.

Audrey continued, ‘And now, Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm Pendruggan welcome to Mrs Whitehorn.’

Audrey, very pleased with herself, sat down.

Angela reached to the floor for her handbag and iPad. Her bag wasn’t there. She stood up to light applause. ‘Hello, everyone. In my haste to get to the stage, I have left my bag by Helen.’

Helen immediately looked and found the bag where Angela had pushed it under her chair. ‘Here it is.’ She held it up.

Angela was relieved. ‘Would you fish my iPad out and bring it up here?’

Everyone turned to watch Helen digging in the vicar’s bag. ‘It’s not here,’ she said. ‘Phone, purse, sunglasses and a book, but no iPad. Sorry.’

Angela felt her heart drop. ‘Oh dear. Never mind.’

Audrey smirked beside her. ‘A bit of a scatterbrain, Mrs Whitehorn?’

Angela took a deep breath and smiled at her audience. ‘Well. Off the cuff is always better, so here we go.’

With malicious pleasure, Audrey asked, ‘Are you sure? Public speaking can be daunting … for those not used to it.’

This was the grit that Angela had needed to form her pearl. ‘Thank you, Audrey, for that warm welcome. And by the way, as I have mentioned before, do call me Angela or Reverend Whitehorn, or just plain Vicar. I prefer those to Mrs Whitehorn.’

Mike gave Angela a reassuring glance, and she continued: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, what a wonderful parish this is. I am very lucky to have this chance to spend a year with you. I want to get to know you all and help the community as much as I can. I am passionate about community and family. Goals and challenges. I know you have a very active WI here,’ she glanced down at Audrey who immediately preened at the mention, ‘but I wonder if a women’s group would be a welcome addition? A chance to sit and share our thoughts and concerns?’

She looked at the faces in front of her and several were looking interested.

Audrey interrupted, ‘I believe we have all that covered at the WI.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Angela went on. ‘But I am thinking of a group where anyone can set the agenda. Relationships, health, concerns over our young adults. Drugs, unemployment. Things that impact our everyday lives.’

Audrey twisted one side of her mouth in sly disagreement. ‘I doubt anyone will find that useful.’

‘Well, let’s see, shall we?’ Angela said. ‘I am a keen runner. I wasn’t always fit, though. Actually, when my mum died I put a lot of weight on. Grief created a huge hole inside me and I filled it with food. I also became depressed and it was my doctor who suggested that regular exercise would help me both emotionally and physically. She set me up with an app that would get me running five K, or three miles, in nine weeks. It actually took me ten weeks and I lost a few pounds and began to feel a lot better. During runs I would talk to my mum in my mind and run through happy memories of my time with her. Gradually my depression lifted. I now run for around forty-five minutes three times a week, and I can’t tell you how much it has helped me. I would be so happy to start a beginners’ running club if anyone is interested?’

Several hands went up.

‘Oh, that’s good.’ Angela was relaxing and her confidence was building. ‘Also, and this may sound a bit Vicar of Dibley, but how about an outdoor service of blessing for our pets? My dog, an Irish wolfhound called Mr Worthington, you may have seen him?’ One or two people nodded. ‘He loves to make new friends, and while the animals make friends we can too.’

Mike Bates grinned. ‘Terrific idea. My two cockers would love it.’

Audrey’s scalp shot backwards. She was simmering with rage. Who was this appalling woman to come in here and attempt to undermine her grip on village society? And over her dead body would her dogs be attending a silly play date.

A woman’s hand went up at the back. ‘We desperately need a dog poo bin on the village green first.’

‘Hear hear,’ a man called out.

Almost everybody murmured their agreement.

‘Good point. Mike?’ She turned to him. ‘Is that your domain or can I put my oar in?’

‘I’d be delighted,’ said Mike. ‘The vicar’s name will certainly help give the council the nudge it needs.’

Angela was encouraged. ‘This is all so positive. Now, there is one last thing I’d like to suggest.’

Audrey clucked her tongue and huffed. Why was Mike Bates just sitting there? As chairman of the parish council, a position she had only missed by a few votes, he should be opposing every single thing this ridiculous woman was saying. Instead he was sitting there like an overgrown schoolboy with his tongue hanging out. She’d be having words with him later.

Angela took a deep breath. ‘I notice that the village has no presence on social media.’

‘With good reason,’ Audrey blurted.

Angela ignored her. ‘Would anyone be interested in a Twitter page for Pendruggan? And also a community website?’

Several more hands went up.

‘That’s so encouraging,’ beamed Angela. ‘By some miracle, does anyone here have a good enough knowledge of computers and tech in general to help create both those things?’

At the back, Helen put her hand up. ‘I can do a bit,’ she said.

‘Bless you, Helen. That’s marvellous.’ Angela put a hand to her thumping chest and sent a silent prayer of thanks. ‘Right, I have said enough. Over to you. Any ideas?’

‘I could run a cycle club,’ said a young man at the back. ‘For the children. Teach them road safety and go off-roading for fun.’

‘Yes, that’s an excellent idea. Come and see me after, would you?’ She scanned the room. ‘Anyone else?’

Simple Tony put his hand up.

‘Yes?’

‘I would like to dig out the village pond.’

‘Have we got a village pond?’ Angela was interested. ‘Where is it?’

‘On the lane down towards the Shellsand Beach,’ said a man sitting in the front row. ‘Not much left of it now.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Angela.

Tony shot his hand up again. ‘The water got bad. Them say it was cursed.’

‘Who said it was cursed?’ asked Angela.

‘I don’t know who said it.’ Tony scratched his head. ‘But my mum said that one summer the farmer took his cattle there to drink and they’m all died afterwards.’

‘I’m not a believer in curses,’ Angela said reassuringly. ‘But it sounds an intriguing idea.’ She looked at Mike Bates. ‘Mike, do you know about the pond?’

Mike shook his head. ‘The first I’ve heard of it. But I am a relative newcomer. I’ve only been here twenty-six years.’

There was laughter.

Angela turned to Audrey. ‘Audrey, how about you?’

Audrey’s thin lips had vanished, replaced by a thin slit from which she spat, ‘No.’

Angela looked back at the sea of faces. ‘Well, if we can find out a bit more about the pond, and as long as there are no reasons as to why we can’t dig it out, that might just become a terrific village project. Thank you, Tony.’

Simple Tony ducked his sleek black head in embarrassment and pleasure.

Angela once again scanned the room. ‘Anyone else? No? Well, that was an excellent start. If you suddenly get inspired, no matter what that inspiration is, let me know. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time.’ She sat down feeling both relieved and excited.