A Blessing In Disguise (43 page)

‘The other important thing,' I tell them, ‘is baptisms – and it's important for me to mention this now because we have two baptisms coming up soon. To put it shortly, I would like baptisms to take place at the ten o'clock Eucharist, in the presence of all of us, preferably with the parents and godparents making their promises to the congregation, not just to me. I've seen it done, it's quite simple, and it works. The words we use will be the same, and I shall baptize in the same way. It's really a bringing of the child into the whole assembly of the church rather than doing it in an empty church in the middle of the afternoon. It's already been mentioned to the PCC, but I'd like to hear what you think.'

There are various opinions; one thing I'm enjoying is that people here – well, most of them – aren't afraid to speak up. Now, one or two ask whether people would still be able to have the baptism at the usual time on Sunday afternoon, privately, if that's what they prefer. I say yes, of course. I won't force people to have it in the ten o'clock service, but I've never thought of baptism as being a private affair. As far as I'm concerned it's a case for public rejoicing. There are the expected remarks about the babies crying in church – people are obsessed, and not just at St Mary's, about children making the least sound in church – and I hope Miss Tordoff will come up with the observation she made at the PCC about crying babies, but she doesn't.

All in all, they seem to think it reasonable, as did the PCC, that I should try out this new form, at least for a period, always providing the parents are agreeable.

And then we decide that we really must call it a day.

‘But before you leave,' I say, ‘I want you to be sure about one thing, and that is that I will do everything I can at St Mary's to serve you. If there are any advantages to my being a woman in the job – by which I mean advantages to you – then I offer them. If there are disadvantages because I'm a woman, then I'll do my best to make up for them. If any of you have doubts on this subject, or are troubled by it, then don't hesitate to discuss it with me, privately if you like. I promise to listen. And I will need your help, and particularly your prayers. And remember that there is the priesthood of the laity. We are all priests.'

That was yesterday. This evening, about an hour ago, Ann Stanton arrived. It's so good to see her. And in her I see Philip again; the same clear blue eyes, the same direct look. And her voice too; low pitched for a woman. We hugged each other with genuine pleasure.

‘You're looking well,' she said as I took her up to her room. ‘I hope you've got lots to tell me?'

‘Oh, I have!' I said. ‘Come down when you're ready. We'll have a drink and I'll give you a run-down. What would you like, tea, coffee, gin-and-tonic?'

‘Tea,' she says, ‘for now. Where's Becky? I thought she'd be home from school. Is she settling down?'

‘Very much so. She's found a friend, Anna, and that's where she is at the moment. She'll be home soon.'

I go downstairs to make the tea. The phone rings just as I'm pouring the boiling water into the pot. It's my mother.

‘How are you?' I begin – but she has no time for that.

‘It's happened!' she cries. ‘We've had an offer on the house! The Dawsons! Exactly who we wanted! We've just heard from the estate agent.'

‘Oh fantastic! That's wonderful!' I feel every bit as excited as she sounds. ‘Is it an acceptable offer? Did you have to come down a lot?'

‘Not a great deal,' she says. ‘Dad reckons it's a fair one, but you know your Dad. He says he'll let them have his answer tomorrow. Why not at once, I asked him, but he said it didn't do to seem too eager.'

‘I'm really delighted for you, and for us!' I say. ‘Shall I let Miss Jowett know?'

‘Oh yes!' my mother says. ‘Tell her we'll be in touch very soon.'

Ann comes into the room.

‘Ann's here,' I tell my mother. ‘I did say she was coming for the weekend? Would you like a word with her?'

I leave them talking to each other while I go back into the kitchen. After a couple of minutes Ann joins me.

‘Your mother said to say good-bye to you, she has things to do. She's really excited, isn't she?'

‘If I know my mother she'll have half the house packed by this time tomorrow!' I say. ‘But it is good news, and it's been very quick.'

Becky arrives. She's pleased, as always, to see Ann. They get on well, though there isn't the same degree of closeness between them as there is between Becky and my mother. That's easily explained. Until now my mother has lived closer to us and since she doesn't go out to work, as Ann does, she's had more time to spend with Becky. I immediately tell Becky the good news about the house and she's overjoyed. ‘Gran will be able to see Missie nearly every day!' she says.

‘Missie?' Ann questions.

So all that has to be explained, which Becky delights in doing. ‘And from tomorrow she's ours to keep for ever! We have to pick her up at twelve o'clock!' she ends her breathless recital.

Two minutes later there's a ring at the door and when I go to answer it there stands Nigel Baines.

‘I found the photographs of my dog,' he says. ‘I told Becky I'd let her see them. Is she in? Is it convenient?'

‘Yes to both questions,' I say. ‘How kind of you. Do come in!'

He does so, and I introduce him to Ann.

‘We were going to have a gin-and-tonic in a minute,' I say. ‘Can you spare the time to join us?'

‘Thank you, I can,' he says. ‘I don't have a surgery this evening because I've just come from an afternoon one. We stagger them so that most people can find something which suits them.'

I serve the drinks, he shows the photographs to Becky. He has a way of talking to her as if they were both the same age, and as the subject at the moment is totally dogs they have plenty to say.

‘I want to take lots of photographs of Missie,' Becky says, ‘right from the minute we bring her home!'

‘What I could do,' Nigel offers, ‘is bring my digital camera tomorrow . . .' He breaks off to speak to me. ‘Sorry, Venus! You've probably got one of your own.'

‘Not a digital,' I tell him. ‘Just the usual roll-of-film one.'

‘What I was going to say,' he continues, ‘was that when you got back from the Rescue Centre we could take some photographs with my camera and I could take them home and print them right away on my computer. But perhaps you have other plans? I wouldn't want to break in . . .'

‘No, we haven't!' Becky cries. ‘We haven't at all. Oh, that would be super! Oh, we can, Mum, can't we! I could take them to school with me on Monday morning to show to the others!'

There seems to be only one answer to that. Even so, I turn to Ann. ‘Is there anything special you wanted to do this weekend?' I ask her.

‘Nothing at all,' she says agreeably. ‘I came here to be with you and my granddaughter. I've no ambitions beyond that, except now, of course, to include Missie!'

‘Then thank you,' I say to Nigel. ‘You've turned up at exactly the right time.'

‘In that case,' he says, ‘to go one further why don't I take you to the rescue place. My car's bigger than yours' – his glance clearly includes Ann – ‘and it's Sonia's turn for Saturday surgery tomorrow. We can take the photographs from the minute Missie's handed over to you. A record from Day One.'

‘Fab!' Becky shouts.

And then the doorbell rings again.

I can hardly believe it when I see Mark Dover.

‘I was going to phone,' he says pleasantly, ‘but then I needed to come down to the village so I decided to see if I could catch you at home. And I've been lucky!' He is more or less past me and into the hall, I don't quite know how. ‘Have you had dinner?'

‘Not yet,' I tell him.

‘Then how about . . . ?'

‘I have visitors,' I say. And since he's already in the house I add, ‘Come and meet my mother-in-law!'

He does a double take when he sees Nigel, who is sitting on the sofa beside Becky. ‘Surprise, surprise!' he says.

‘Hi!' Nigel says. ‘You're almost a stranger these days. What have you been doing with yourself?'

‘Working,' Mark says.

‘Good! Anything special?' Nigel asks.

‘Very special!' Mark gives me a look which somehow hints at a secret between us. It annoys me because it makes me look like a conspirator, which I'm not.

‘Very special?' Nigel queries. ‘Are we allowed to know what?'

‘If Venus doesn't mind,' Mark says.

‘Certainly not,' I say. ‘Why should I? Mark has been painting my portrait. Mark makes it sound far more important than it is.'

‘How thrilling!' Ann says – and for a split second I feel annoyed at her choice of words. ‘What did you wear, Venus?'

‘My cassock! Very ordinary.'

‘You looked anything but ordinary. And I hope you're not saying the painting is ordinary.' Now it's Mark's turn to sound peeved. ‘It's one of the best things I've ever done. What's more, it's finished. That's what I dropped by to tell you. I thought you might like to come and see it. Perhaps tomorrow?'

‘How wonderful!' Ann says. ‘I'd love to see it! I'm here for the weekend, is there any chance I could come too?'

‘We have a very full weekend,' I say to Mark. ‘I'm not sure that we can fit it in. We have to collect our new dog tomorrow and we won't be able to leave her on her own, not so soon.'

‘Couldn't we go before we collect the dog?' Ann suggests. I don't know why she's being so persistent.

‘If it would help, we could call in on the way to the Dog Rescue,' Nigel says, thus neatly including himself in the party. ‘We pass quite close to your place, Mark.'

This is not at all what Mark had in mind, I'm certain of that, but he's a civilized person, so are we all, so he can do nothing but agree, and we settle on ten o'clock.

‘Only we mustn't be late for collecting Missie!' Becky says anxiously.

‘I promise we won't be, darling!' I say.

I give Mark a gin-and-tonic, and we all settle down to inconsequential chat. It doesn't take me long to see that neither of the men is going to leave before the other one does so. It's strange, I think, that I hadn't noticed this – perhaps antipathy is too strong a word, but there's something between them – when we all had dinner together. In the end Becky solves the problem.

‘I'm
starving
!' she says dramatically. ‘When are we going to eat, Mum?'

‘Oh dear! I'm terribly sorry!' I say, looking at the two men. ‘I would like to ask you to stay to supper but I can't. It's lamb chops, and I only have three!'

So off they go, Nigel repeating that he'll pick us up at nine-thirty in the morning. ‘Please don't be late!' Becky says.

After supper, Becky, with unusual willingness, takes herself off to bed. I know what her theory is, I've used it myself: the quicker she goes to sleep, the quicker tomorrow – and Missie – will come. I clear the table, everything into the dishwasher, then Ann and I settle down with a second glass of the rather nice claret we'd had with the lamb. A present from Ann.

She and I are never short of things to talk about and our shared grief has brought us closer together. I do love her and I know she loves me, and now, as always when the two of us are together, we talk about Philip, particularly about the happy times we've had. A ‘do-you-remember-when' session. Then we switch to the subject of my work, and how it's going in Thurston. Ann is interested in everything to do with it, though I can't bring myself to mention Miss Frazer. Before we know where we are it's well past midnight and I say, ‘You've had a long day, Ann. I don't want to keep you up. You must be tired, and I know I am.'

‘Yes,' she agrees. ‘I think I'll go up.' There's a pause, and then, hesitantly, she says, ‘You know, Venus, there's something I want to say to you.'

This sounds rather formal. I'm puzzled.

‘What is it?' I ask.

‘I've been thinking a lot about you recently and it seems to me – I hope you don't mind me saying this – I think you should get on with your life, start looking forward.'

‘But I am getting on with it, I am looking forward,' I say. ‘I have all these plans I've just been telling you about. I'm going to be very busy indeed.'

‘I know, love,' she says, ‘and that's great. But I'm not just thinking about your working life, I'm thinking about your personal life. Oh, I think about mine too! I just work hard, and enjoy it, go home – and do exactly the same thing next day and most days. But you're young and I'm not. You still have a long time to live.'

‘That's what Philip thought. It isn't always true,' I say.

‘I know that too,' Ann says. ‘But we have to live as if it is true, and more often than not it is. Oh dear! I'm not putting any of this very well! What I mean is . . . Oh, Venus, I must just come out with it! What I'm trying to say is, don't think because Philip's no longer here you can't have a man in your life. I know how you loved him, and that you'd always have been faithful to him, but what we promise when we marry is that we'll be true until death parts us. And death has parted both you from Philip and me from my lovely Jim.'

‘But you didn't marry again,' I point out.

‘I know,' she says. ‘Perhaps I should have, but it's probably too late for me. It's not for you, though.'

‘It's not anything I've ever had in mind,' I tell her. But in the same breath I know that that isn't entirely true. Oh, it's true about remarrying, I've never thought as far as that, not at all, but haven't I recently felt the longing for something and someone, recognized the stirring of my own sexuality? Wanting someone close? And the answer to that is, ‘Yes, yes, and yes.'