This is not a problem. I can do this. The moon is bright and will light the path. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil. Take a deep breath, girl, and get on with it. The alarm is set, and the door locked. The street light casts an orange glow, but the shadows are warm and familiar. Stride out now, a brisk walk will do you good. Keep to Church Lane; I never did like that snicket by Rook Cottage, too dark.
There, now that William has fitted the new lights I can make the final adjustments and the altar will not be cast in shadow. And the glory of the Lord shall shine upon them. I hope she gets here soon; I need her advice about the flowers. Mary does do such lovely flowers, bless her, but she always puts them front and centre. I want something more modern, subtle. I don't quite know what, but she'll know. Half past now. Where is she?
I hope John will be happy with the flowers this time. He keeps moving them about, so I know that something isn't right. I wish I had more of an artist's eye. I know that the flowers look good in their pots and vases and whatnot, the Lord knows I've taken enough lessons but it's the best places to display them. Anne will know, bless her. She has more artistry in one long, slender finger than I have in both stubby hands. Lord, why did you give me my dad's fingers? Yes, I know, you might have given me his face, I must be grateful for small mercies. Must get a move on, John will be getting impatient and Anne will be there before me; can't have that. Dear Anne, she's been through so much. It's good to see her finally coming out into the sunlight again. Losing a husband like that, so terrible. If I lost John… where is that brass polish? Ah, got it.
Why should there be such a fuss about a few pews? It isn't as if they are all filled every week. If they were half filled it would be something. All I want to do is remove a few pews at the rear of the church so that we can have space for other uses. Tables for refreshments after the service, room for a meeting or two, a concert space; yes, you could fit in a string quartet and an audience of fifty at least if we took out a few dusty old pews. Multi-purpose, that's the word. You would think I was suggesting putting up a neon sign and bringing in Sunday morning striptease the way some of them react. Mary doesn't help. I know her father was vicar here for umpty-twiddley years and nothing has altered about the church since the dark ages, but you'd think she could support me in this. Move slowly she says, take the people with you. If we move much slower, I'll be facing retirement before it happens and I'm only thirty-two.
There, now that wasn't so bad, was it? Look, there's the church all lit up, the stained-glass windows throwing rainbow colours onto the gravestones and the gravel path. Ian loved this place. I'd have got married at St Steven's in Somerley, where I went every Sunday of my life, but I could tell Ian wanted to wed me here and it is a lovely church. Oh Ian, I miss you. Come now, Anne, none of that, you agreed to put the past in the past and move on, can't let John see me like this. He's been so good to me, him and Mary, they've helped me through. Now I must start to help myself and them. It's good that I can be of use even if it is only sprucing up the church and helping him fight his corner over the pews. Right, Anne Rogers, chin up and in we go.
Ah, there you are Anne, come over here and help me get these flowers right. Mary's done a wonderful arrangement, but you'll make a much better job of the positioning. There, you see what I mean, that is just what I wanted, my dear.
My dear? Come on John, you can't be more than three years older than me, yet you speak as if you're nearly seventy. Well, that's vicar talk I suppose. Stop it Anne, you need this man to talk like a vicar; he's far too handsome and kind and you mustn't think about him in other ways. He's a vicar and his wife is your friend. But he's such a darling man and just what I need.
Look at those hands, slender pale fingers, artist's hands. What a beautiful woman you are but still so pale. The way your soft blonde hair frames your face, those blue eyes, such an intense blue but still so sad. Still grieving for Ian? How could such a thing happen?
I feel for you so… out there on the moors in a broken-down car at night, miles from anywhere. Ian setting off into the darkness to find help and falling to his death down old mine workings, leaving you in the darkness as the car battery dies. In this age of mobile phones, it shouldn't happen, there should always be a signal. Why is there never a signal when it's important? You're so lovely and so alone.
A timely arrival, Mary, I think. Look at him. Look at his face as he watches her working with those flowers, he's a sucker for a blue-eyed blonde, what man isn't? Add to that a tragic accident leaving the girl vulnerable and John is already half way to falling for her. I could have my work cut out here. It wouldn't be so bad if she were a scheming minx. I can scratch eyes out with the best of them, but she isn't trying. She's just living from day to day coping with the real world without her man. Tread carefully, girl, this situation needs careful handling. Here are two people about to fall in love without really trying, one is a dear friend and the other my man and I don't want to hurt either of them. Here you are, John, I brought the brass polish and some cloths; you can go and buff up the lectern while Anne and I have a natter. Off you go; time for girl talk.
I don't know how you do it, Anne, I don't think you moved that bowl more than six inches, but I can see that it's now exactly right. Yes, they are lovely, aren't they? I get them from the local florist, there's nothing good enough in the garden at this time of year. I just tell Doris the sort of thing I'm after and she comes up with the goods, which is fortunate since I don't have much colour sense. That dress is lovely, Anne, I can see you have good taste. We must go shopping sometime soon and you can give me some advice. It will really be a challenge trying to dress frumpy old me. Don't try to flatter me Anne, I'm ten years older than you and I'm a bit stuck in the vicar's wife mind set. John wants to bring the church building into the twenty-first century, but he could start by getting his poor old wife up to date.
Look at them, chattering away. Two women I love. Now where did that thought come from? You can't deny it John, you love Mary, but Anne is so beautiful and sad and so much in need of someone to care for her, to love and cherish her. Lord, where is this going? I can see the headlines now, Young vicar in wild fling with parishioner, wife vows to stand by her man. Would she stand by me if things went wrong that way? We have no children. Children sometimes help to keep things together. Do it for the children. I'd love a child. There's been no sign and time is passing. Is that what's going through my mind, trade the old in for the new in a desperate attempt to find fecundity? Can't think this way, don't go there, John. Polish the brass, polish the brass.
John, dear, if you rub much harder there'll be no brass left. I’m off. I'll go and finish that bit of ironing and leave you two to it. I'll have the cocoa ready when you get back. Yes, Anne, he really does like a cup of cocoa before bed. How ancient is that? Did I really just say I'll leave you two to it? Well, I think I can safely leave them together for the moment, John's not ready to jump on her yet and Anne's still too involved with her own thoughts to catch him if he does. The cards are all dealt, and I think I see how the hand might play. Anne has the queen of hearts with her beauty and her vulnerability. John has the king. He is the kind of man Anne would find attractive. I have the ace of moral normality, John's need to live the proper life. The other cards are fairly evenly dealt, and I think a good careful player might win the rubber. But I have the Jack of Hearts and in this case, I think it's the trump card for me. Yes, with all the cards out I think I can win with my little jack. I think that if my baby, lying warm and snug inside me now is a boy, I may call him Jack. My man will prefer the name John, of course, but he'll be my Jack. So, little bit of news with the cocoa and an early night. That should do it.