Cast the First Stone (3 page)

‘Sorry . . . I was just giving you your full title as our rector's wife. I thought you would like it.'

‘So I do, very much.' Fiona smiled. ‘At least, I like being the rector's wife, but it's taking a bit of getting used to the new name.'

Simon had been listening to this exchange and he joined in the conversation now. ‘I don't want Fiona to be known as “the rector's wife”, although I'm delighted of course that she agreed to take me on! But she is a person in her own right, not just my wife.'

‘Thank you, darling,' said Fiona. ‘What do you think, Simon? Mr Tweedale – Henry – has just asked me if I would like to join the choir. Do you think I should?'

‘Ra–ther!' replied her husband. ‘That's a great idea. You have quite a few female voices now, haven't you, Henry? And they have certainly made a vast improvement to the choir.'

‘I'm glad you think so,' said Henry Tweedale. He lowered his voice, speaking to Fiona in a confidential way. ‘Our idea – Simon's and mine – to have women in the choir didn't go down too well at first, did it, Simon?'

‘You can say that again!' laughed the rector. He glanced a little uneasily across the table, but the Fowlers and the Baylisses appeared not to be listening. ‘Yes, that's right,' he went on, in a quieter voice. ‘A certain amount of opposition, you might say, but we won through in the end. It's to be hoped we will do the same about Henry's idea for a Junior section, girls as well as boys.' He made a slight nod towards the other side of the table. ‘But I think we're making headway. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say. I've told Fiona about some of the – er – difficulties, haven't I, darling?'

‘Yes!' she agreed. ‘At some length.' She decided to change the conversation, though in case she might be overheard. ‘I was just telling Joan how much we enjoyed Scarborough . . .'

Mrs Tweedale was one of the women with whom Fiona was on first name terms. They had got on well together right from the start. Joan had a small handicraft shop on the main street of the town which sold knitting wools, embroidery silks and tapestry sets, lace and ribbons, trimmings and buttons: everything in fact for those ladies who were good with their fingers. That was not really one of Fiona's talents, but she loved to go into the little shop for a chat with Joan and had been fascinated by the vast array of coloured wools. So much so that she had been encouraged to buy some wool in a shade that Joan called aquamarine – which Fiona had been assured was just right for her colouring – and a simple pattern for a jumper and the appropriate needles. Joan herself was usually seen in one of her own creations. Today it was a lacy jumper in a pale shade of green that went well with her auburn hair.

They chatted a little about Scarborough and the childhood holidays they had all spent there and also at Filey and Whitby. Simon moved to sit next to Henry as they were talking about the joys of fishing from the pier. ‘Excuse me, darling,' he said, ‘Henry and I are reminiscing. I'll leave you to chat with Joan.'

‘How are you getting on with that jumper?' asked Joan. ‘The pattern wasn't too difficult, was it?'

‘No, it's fine,' replied Fiona. ‘If I get stuck I'll come to you for help. I've done about six inches of the back, but it's been put aside for a while. I didn't take it on my honeymoon,' she grinned.

‘No, I should think not,' laughed Joan. ‘And I dare say you might find yourself too busy now to get back to it. I believe you're still carrying on with your job at the library? Good for you, I say. I approve of what Simon was saying about you being your own person.'

‘Yes, he was quite insistent that I shouldn't be regarded as what he calls an unpaid curate. But I gather, reading between the lines, that his first wife was very active in the parish? Of course I don't enquire too closely, and he doesn't talk about her very much.'

‘Yes, Millicent was quite a forceful woman and she did take over a lot of the duties. We hadn't had a rector's wife, you see, for ages. The Reverend Holdsworth was well into his seventies when he retired, and his wife had died some years before. Things had been allowed to lapse somewhat, so when Simon came along six years ago it was a big change for us.'

‘A new broom, I suppose,' Fiona remarked.

‘Yes, exactly. He reorganized the Sunday School and started a class for teenagers, as well as the Youth Club. And the choir too. I'm so pleased you've said you'll join us,' Joan went on. ‘I joined when women were allowed into the hallowed ranks. It had been an all male choir when the former rector had been with us. He wouldn't entertain the idea of women; I could never imagine why. I suppose he took too literally the view of St Paul that women should remain silent. And the diehards just went along with it.'

‘I wonder what they will say when they hear about Simon introducing a guitar group?' smiled Fiona.

‘Yes, Henry has been telling me about that,' said Joan. ‘I was surprised really that Henry agreed so readily, but he's adopted a much more modern approach to music since Simon came along. Anyway, we shall see. And of course when Millicent took over the Mothers' Union and the catering arrangements that didn't go down very well with Mrs Bayliss and her cronies. They'd been running things their own way for ages.' Joan was talking more freely because Mesdames Bayliss and Fowler and their husbands had gone away from the table. ‘They'll be starting the washing up now, I suppose. I'll go and help them in a little while, but I'm sure there'll be enough helpers in the kitchen . . . As I was saying, Mrs Bayliss and Co had their noses pushed out, so to speak, when Millicent took over. Mrs B had been acting as the enrolling member for the Mothers' Union – that's the one in charge – after the old rector's wife died, and then, of course, she had to give it up again when Millicent came on the scene. It's always done by the rector's wife, you see.'

‘Yes, Simon was telling me something about it,' replied Fiona. ‘He hasn't actually said so, but I think he wants me to take up the position. But I'm not a mother, am I?'

‘Neither was Millicent for that matter,' said Joan. ‘But that's how it's always been – the job of the rector's wife. You get in there, lass, and show them what you can do.'

‘What about Mrs Bayliss, though? Won't she be annoyed? And I'm sure she can do it much better than I could.'

‘Oh, be blowed to her!' said Joan. ‘She has too much of her own way. Start as you mean to go on, that's what I say . . . Ooh, we'd best shut up now. Arthur's about to say a few words . . .'

Arthur Bayliss, the senior church warden, was standing near the stage at the far end of the hall, holding up his hand as a signal for everyone to listen. The ladies who had been in the kitchen came out, still wearing their aprons, and stood near the serving hatch.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' Arthur Bayliss began. ‘I now have a very pleasant duty to perform. Will our rector and his lovely wife please come forward.'

‘Come along, darling.' Simon came and took her hand as they went towards the stage, and once again everyone clapped and smiled.

‘As you all know, Simon and Fiona were married recently,' Arthur continued, ‘and we would all like to mark that occasion with a little gift. This is from the members of the Church Council and the congregation . . .' Arthur handed to Simon a small carriage clock made of brass. ‘We hope that all your hours and days will be happy ones. God bless you both.' He shook hands with Simon, then, very gingerly, kissed Fiona's cheek.

‘Thank you all very much,' said Simon. ‘I'm sure you don't want to hear me sermonizing. I'll save that till tomorrow,' he added to a ripple of polite laughter. ‘So . . . all I want to say is thank you for the lovely gift, which will have pride of place on our mantelpiece. Thank you all for coming and for the welcome home party, not forgetting the ladies in the kitchen who have worked extra hard today.' Fiona noticed how Mrs Bayliss smiled smugly as though she was preening her feathers. ‘And thank you, all of you, for making my dear wife so welcome in the church,' Simon continued. ‘Now, do stay and have a chat for a little while. There's no need to rush home. So long as we're gone by seven o'clock when the Youth Club starts.'

Fiona reflected on his remark about her welcome from the congregation. Some of them, indeed, had been very friendly towards her. But there were a few about whom she had reservations. Mrs Bayliss, of course, and there were others: in particular two women who were part of her clique: Miss Thorpe – a spinster of indeterminate age – and Mrs Parker, who Fiona believed was her sister. They had not yet passed the time of day with her.

There was another woman, too, rather younger, whom she felt she would like to get to know. That was Ruth Makepeace, who was a teacher at the local school. She was pleasant enough, and polite, and Fiona felt that on closer acquaintance she might well be a friend and ally. But so far Fiona had been unable to engender any reciprocal warmth from the woman. Her friend, however, Heather Milner, seemed altogether different, very amenable and outgoing. Maybe Ruth was the sort of person who preferred to have just one or two intimate friends; there were women like that.

Joan had gone into the kitchen, so Fiona decided she would start, as Joan had advised, as she meant to go on. She also went into the kitchen. ‘Hello, ladies,' she began, ‘you're all very busy. May I give you a hand? Pass me a tea towel and I'll wipe some of those pots. Goodness, what a mountain of washing up!'

Mrs Bayliss turned round from the cupboard where she was putting away the clean plates. Fiona noticed that she was not the one with her hands in the water; that was Mrs Fowler. ‘No, thank you, dear,' said Ethel Bayliss. ‘We've got quite enough helpers. If we get any more we won't have room to turn round in here.'

‘There aren't any more tea towels,' said Miss Thorpe; it was the first time she had addressed any remark to Fiona. ‘Anyway, we've nearly finished.' Which was obviously not true.

Mrs Fowler turned round from her position at the sink. ‘Thank you very much, dear, for offering,' she said, smiling in what Fiona thought was a sincere and regretful manner, ‘but it would be a shame to spoil your pretty dress. Another time, maybe.'

‘Yes, another time . . .' echoed Fiona. She glanced round, smiling a little nervously at the six or seven ladies gathered there. It was probably true that they didn't need any more helpers. She caught the eye of Ruth Makepeace, and she fancied that the woman smiled back quite sympathetically.

She went back into the hall, and Joan quickly followed her. ‘Be blowed to the lot of 'em!' said Joan. ‘I flung my tea towel down, and I've left them to it. But don't let them upset you; it's only a few of them, and the rest of us are really glad to have you with us. You must be wanting to get home though, I'm sure. And here's Simon waiting for you. Bye for now, Fiona, see you in the morning.'

‘I'm afraid my offer to help in the kitchen didn't go down very well,' said Fiona when she and Simon had unpacked their suitcases and were taking their ease in the sitting room with a cup of tea.

‘Oh dear,' said Simon. ‘But I'm sure they were only trying to be thoughtful. They knew you were anxious to get home and unpack.'

‘Hmm . . . maybe,' Fiona nodded. ‘Some of them were quite nice about it. Mrs Fowler looked a bit sorry. I think she's a kindly soul, if she wasn't so much under the thumb of Mrs Bayliss.'

‘Quite so!' Simon grinned.

‘And Ruth Makepeace. I thought she gave me a sympathetic smile. She seems a nice woman. I'd like to get to know her better but she seems rather reluctant, or maybe she's just shy.'

‘Yes . . . she's a nice person. Maybe, as you say, a little shy.' Simon sounded rather evasive. ‘But you'll win them all over before long. Don't worry, darling.'

‘I find that Joan Tweedale is the best of the bunch,' said Fiona. ‘I feel she could be an ally, if ever I need one. She was telling me about Mrs Bayliss and how proud she is of her position as enrolling member of the Mothers' Union. She's the one that I find most . . . antagonistic. No, maybe that's a bit strong, but she's not very friendly. She soon gave me my marching orders from the kitchen. Her province, I gather, although I get the impression that she organizes the others to do the donkey work.'

Simon laughed. ‘I think you've hit the nail on the head! You mustn't worry about her, darling. I admit she's had things her own way since . . . well, since Millicent died. But you are my wife now, and that's something she will have to get used to. I'm sure she has nothing against you; it's just that she's been kingpin – or should I say queenpin? – for the last couple of years.'

‘Do you really want me to take on that enrolling member job? I'm sure it would be much better for Mrs B to carry on.'

‘It's a position that is normally taken by the rector's – or the vicar's – wife, as the case may be. So it would be only right, my dear.'

‘But I thought you didn't want me to be referred to as the rector's wife?'

‘Nor do I. You have your own life to lead, irrespective of mine. But I think it would be right for you to take the lead in certain matters. We'll talk about it another time, shall we, love? Now, if you don't mind I had better adjourn to the study and finish off my sermon. You'll be all right, won't you, watching the television? Then we can have an early night. What do you say, Mrs Norwood?' He grinned at her.

‘A good idea!' She smiled back at him, thrilled as always at the look of tenderness in his eyes. ‘I won't watch the TV though. I'll finish reading my book.' She picked up the latest Ngaio Marsh mystery novel, with the familiar green Penguin cover, from the coffee table. Although she was a librarian she liked to have her own copies of books by favourite authors and had amassed quite a large library of her own. Her taste in literature was wide ranging but she had too much on her mind to settle to anything too profound at the moment.