The Newcomer

‘But it’s already eleven. She should be down here with us, celebrating.’

‘Darling.’ She kissed the top of his handsome head. ‘Put me down and we’ll have breakfast together. Just the two of us.’

‘I’m so proud of you.’ He gave her another tight hug, then set her back on her feet.

A short while later, Robert placed the bacon sandwich in front of her. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea, please.’ Angela bit into the soft white bread and butter, and found the bacon crispy and warm. ‘The food of the gods,’ she said.

Robert put a mug of tea in front of her, then sat down with his own sandwich and coffee. ‘The vicarage is going to feel huge after this little house.’

‘It will.’ Angela looked out of the kitchen window onto their tiny but neat courtyard garden. ‘I shall miss this, though.’

‘Oh, I won’t,’ Robert said through a mouthful of bread. ‘Farewell west London, hello west coast.’

‘You’ll miss work.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, you will. It’s your meat and drink.’

He wiped his mouth with a piece of kitchen towel. ‘We have talked all this through. Finish your sandwich.’

‘When will you let work know?’

‘I’ll talk to Gordon on Monday. It won’t come as a surprise. He told me you’d get the job.’

‘He’s been so good to you. To us.’

‘Yeah. He’s a good bloke.’

Angela stirred her tea. ‘And you are sure? About having a year off?’

He put the last of his sandwich in his mouth. ‘Absolutely. All those dark rainy nights standing on College Green or outside the door of Number Ten, shouting questions that won’t or can’t be answered to politicians who are as clueless as the rest of us.’

‘I’m not sure Cornwall will offer any of the excitement you’re used to.’

‘But I shall have a new job. Househusband extraordinaire …’

‘Not quite as exciting.’

He shook his head. ‘Look, you have always been there for me, never minding when the office ring at ungodly hours to send me out on a story, never refusing a camera crew a bed for the night, always taking the burden of domestic responsibility. It’s my turn to look after you.’

Angela put her hand on his knee and her head on his shoulder. ‘I am so lucky.’

‘The good people of Penwhatsit are luckier.’

‘Pendruggan.’

He raised his coffee mug. ‘To my wife. The vicar of Pendruggan.’

She laughed. ‘Vicar for a year, anyway. I hope I can do it.’

Robert grew serious. ‘Darling, Ange.’ He took the hand she had on his knee and lifted it to his lips. ‘What you will be doing is a million times more worthwhile than any television news report. You are doing yourself and me and Faith proud.’

‘I hope Mum would be proud of me too.’

‘She’s smiling down on you as we speak.’

3 (#u68b2c4e0-1ab1-559d-9e35-f3749b316f39)

Penny took a last look around her bedroom as she rummaged for her emergency packet of tights in her flight bag.

‘I hope Angela will like this place,’ she muttered uneasily.

Simon poked his head round the door. ‘Hurry up. I want us to get to church before Angela arrives. Jenna’s ready.’

‘I had a ladder so I’ve got to put these new ones on.’ She sat on the bed and rolled the expensive flesh-toned, ten-denier tights gently so as not to snag them.

‘We’ve got to go.’

‘I can’t hurry this. They snag so easi— oh shit, look what you’ve made me do.’ She glanced up to find he’d already gone and glanced back to see the pull in the fine mesh. ‘Bugger, bugger.’

Jenna came in wearing her new grey, buttoned coat, white socks and red shiny shoes. ‘Come on, Mumma, Daddy says he’s going without you.’

Penny pushed her feet into her taupe suede heels and grimaced at the pinch on her little toes.

‘OK, OK. I’m ready.’ She got to her feet, tottering slightly, then gained her balance. She sucked in her core muscles and made her way down the stairs in Jenna’s wake.

Simon was fussing with his dog collar. ‘Does it look all right?’

She gave him a once-over from top to bottom. ‘Perfect. How about me?’

Simon was already looking for the door keys. ‘Hmm?’

‘Will I do?’

Without turning his head, he replied, ‘Yes, yes. Lovely as always. Right, let’s go.’

The birds were singing in the churchyard and tulips and forget-me-nots were pushing their way up among the damp headstones. Simon strode ahead of Penny, deep in thought. Penny saw the tense set of his shoulders and the nervous way he had of reaching up to smooth his bald head. She understood that today was going to be difficult for him, difficult for them all, and her love and empathy flowed to him. The last couple of months had been fraught with things to organise and she had done her best to take the strain of the domestic arrangements from him.

Goodness only knew how the caretaker vicar, Angela, was feeling. Pendruggan was to be her first proper parish. The poor woman hadn’t even seen the vicarage yet, not in the flesh. Penny had shown her around on FaceTime but that was it. To make things easier, Angela and Robert had been delighted for Penny to leave her furniture behind so that there was the least upheaval for them all.

And now, the day to hand over the vicarage had arrived.

Penny and Jenna caught up with Simon as he unlocked the side door into the vestry. ‘Nice and warm. Good,’ he said, hanging his coat on the worn wooden peg above the radiator. He checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes before they are due.’

The door connecting the vestry to the main church opened and a well-built woman wearing a tweed suit and a steel head of hair strode in. ‘Morning, Vicar.’