The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas) by Shaw Rebecca

Author:Shaw, Rebecca [Shaw, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409140108
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2010-12-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Muriel pressed her costume with loving care. She’d worn the same one for four years now. It was made from an old brown coat of her mother’s. Every time Mrs Hipkin had worn it she’d said, ‘This coat will see me out.’ It didn’t. She’d bought another one, but refused to throw the old one away. ‘It’ll come in for something one day,’ she’d maintained. Stocks Day was only two days away and Muriel couldn’t wait. The fair had already arrived, Willie Biggs had cleaned all the trestle tables and had them stacked in the church hall awaiting the big day. Tradition had it that everyone brought their own food for the tea so there was no catering to do, which made the event a pleasure for everyone.

Thank goodness Peter had decided to do the Blessing. Muriel wasn’t superstitious, but she had a sneaking feeling that if he hadn’t, all kinds of dreadful things would have happened in the village. Death and destruction, that’s what. The costume, hanging up on its hanger from the door frame, blew gently in the breeze from the garden. The hot weather still persisted. Because her plants were so dear to her she’d managed to get over her fear of the water butt, but she shuddered each time she used it. Those weeks in the hospital had gone by in a blur but they still struck terror in her heart. She’d only to see Scott in school and the horror came flooding back – but she mustn’t dwell on it. There were so many exciting things happening to her these days. The part of the week she liked best were Wednesdays and Fridays, when she went to the tearoom. She hadn’t realised what a gregarious person she was. All these years she’d taken a back seat and she shouldn’t have done.

Peter’s costume was hanging from the door frame as well. The mask and horns had had to be seriously renovated but she’d taken great joy in the task. How sensible he was to accept what had to be. He and Caroline were the best thing that had happened to the village for years. They’d brought such light and joy to everyone, and in such a practical way, too. If only they’d had a family. Peter’s children would have been beautiful indeed, and Caroline would have made such a lovely mother.

She went out into the front garden to water the roses. Glancing up, she saw Betty McDonald going past.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs McDonald.’

‘Why do you always insist on calling me Mrs McDonald? Everyone but you calls me Betty. Go on, say it – Betty.’

‘Well, Betty then.’

‘That’s better. It was me made the rector change his mind, yer know.’

‘I should think that Pe— the rector made up his own mind.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t. I went to see him in church. Praying, he was. Said he didn’t agree with it, but I told him. “Cross yer fingers” I said, “and pretend you’re liking it.” It did the trick – I knew it would.

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