the birds beginning to build their nests, the number of you who have bothered to come here this morning – all these things fill me with renewed energy and a determination to give all I have to you. I stand here and make my promise to you. Whatever happens over the next twelve months, I will do my best to help you. Build an even stronger community for Simon to return to. I’m particularly interested in empowering women. Show them the opportunities within their reach. A chance to fulfil their latent potential.’
A few of the older generation looked around at friends and partners with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, sending the silent message to each other. Didn’t we tell the bishop that a female vicar, with ridiculous modern ideas about equality, would bring trouble?
Angela saw the exchanges but ignored them. ‘Do come and talk to me. I want to get to know you well. Share problems, joys, ideas, anything. I maybe the newcomer but my vicarage is open to all comers.’
A young woman sitting in the body of the church began to clap. Next to her, Helen joined in, starting a wave of applause through the majority of the congregation.
The organist wiped a dew drop from the end of his nose and struck up the opening notes of ‘Love Divine, all loves excelling’.
‘Darling, you deserve a sherry.’ Mamie shooed Angela into the big vicarage sitting room. ‘Robert, get her a sherry please, and a G and T for me.’
Robert, on the point of entering the room, made a U-turn, and went to the kitchen.
Mamie relaxed into the sofa and kicked her shoes off. She patted the cushion next to her. ‘How did you feel that went?’
Angela sat down. ‘I think it went OK. What did you think?’
‘Darling, you were wonderful! They adored you. You gave them everything.’
Robert returned with a drinks tray and Faith. Mr Worthington followed and hoisted himself next to Angela, before yawning squeakily and burying his whiskery face in her lap.
‘I was just telling Angela how wonderful she was,’ Mamie told Robert as she took the G and T from his proffered tray. ‘Thank you, darling.’
Robert passed a glass of coke to Faith, who had opened a bag of crisps and was tickling Mr Worthington’s tummy, and sat down in an armchair, opening his tin of beer.
‘She really was.’ He lifted his tin. ‘To Angela, the new vicar of Pendruggan.’
‘To Angela,’ said Mamie.
‘Mum,’ said Faith.
‘My wonderful wife,’ smiled Robert.
‘I couldn’t have done any of this without you, my family,’ Angela said, her voice soft.
‘Now now, none of that,’ Robert chided gently. ‘This is your time to shine.’
‘And I wouldn’t be able to do it if you hadn’t taken this year off, away from the job you love,’ she said.
He waved a hand airily. ‘Piffle. You have stood in my shadow too long. It’s time I stood aside.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ Faith rolled her eyes. ‘Women can make their own way now, you know. Like, they don’t need a man to “stand aside” to help them achieve things in life. We are liberated from that sort of patriarchal nonsense, you know.’
Robert was hurt. ‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. Your mother is an independent, free-thinking adult woman, but in the past she has been the partner who has supported me while neglecting, maybe, some of things she wanted to do.’
‘Huh. Maybe? Listen to yourself, Dad. She definitely missed out while you were out building your career. How many times were you home in time to read me a bedtime story? How many times were you already at work by the time I woke up? How many times did you take me to school or pick me up or watch sports day?’
Robert was wounded. ‘And who do you think paid for your holidays and looked after you and Mum?’
Angela interrupted them. ‘Hey. Stop it. You make me sound like some sort of downtrodden drudge. Let me make this clear. Making a home and caring for you both was and still is, A Job. One that I love. I would change nothing … other than to still have Granny with us today.’
Faith and Robert were chastened. ‘Sorry.’
Angela took a sip of her sherry and leant back into the softness of the sofa. ‘Now then, this independent, brilliant, superwoman would like her lunch on a tray, right here, watching a movie. And while you lot make that happen, Mr Worthington and I are going to have forty winks. Scoot.’
Later that evening, the phone rang in the hall. The women were watching Poldark, leaving Robert to get up and answer it.
‘Hello?’ he asked tentatively, not certain he would know who was calling.
‘Hi, Robert? It’s Helen here. Helen Merrifield?’
Robert remembered the attractive woman from Simon and Penny’s party. ‘Hello, Helen. How can I help you?’
‘I was wondering if you and Angela would like to come round for supper this week. Would Tuesday be good? Listening to Angela in church this morning, I was thinking how brave she was.’
‘She’s a tough cookie,’ Robert laughed.
‘Yes. And I thought, we tough cookies need to stick together.’
‘That’s very kind, Helen. Hang on, I’ll ask her.’ He put the old-fashioned receiver down on the hall table and popped his head around the door of the sitting room.
‘Who was it?’ asked Angela, not taking her eyes from the television.
‘Shh,’ snapped Mamie and Faith, who were watching a strapping young man gallop a horse across Cornish cliffs, his ruffled white shirt open to the navel and billowing in the breeze.
‘Helen,’ whispered Robert. ‘Wants to know if we can have supper with her on Tuesday night.’
Angela looked at him with bright surprise. ‘Love to,’ she mouthed. ‘Does she want us to bring anything and what time?’
‘What do you want me to put the linen napkins out for? You’ve only got to bleddy wash an’ iron after. Don’t make sense.’
Helen, chopping fruit for a salad pudding, said firmly, ‘Just do it, Piran.’
‘She’s the vicar not the bleddy Queen of Sheba, is she?’
‘Oh, Piran, please, I simply want to make tonight nice.’
‘It’s nice without having to put out the bleddy linen napkins.’
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
