A Rural Affair

that kind of thing. I was just thinking that as I came up the path.’

His rheumy old eyes boggled in shock. ‘Euh,’ he muttered uneasily. ‘Good Lord.’

‘Yes, very good Lord, Angus.’ I raised my eyes and pointed to Him upstairs. ‘I was just thinking that too!’

Angus didn’t know what to say. He looked like he’d swallowed his dentures.

‘And sorry to have shocked you,’ I said more gently, putting my hand on his arm, ‘but the thing is, I’m not sure I can play the grieving widow any more when, frankly, I don’t feel remotely sad. Not now.’

Angus gave me a level stare for quite a long moment. Eventually he nodded. ‘Quite right. Good for you, old girl. Why be hypocritical?’

‘Why indeed.’

I held his gaze and then we both faced front in silence, digesting this. I knew I was a bit over the top at the moment, a bit out of control, but I couldn’t help it.

‘Has Peggy asked you about the book club?’ I asked at length, changing the subject.

‘Peggy? No.’

‘Oh, well, a few of us girls are starting one. Thought you might like to join.’

He smoothed back his flowing, Heseltinian locks delightedly. ‘I say …’ he purred, mouth twitching. ‘How sweet of you to think of me. D’you know, I don’t know …’

‘Oh, come on, Angus, you’ll love it.’ I nudged him. ‘Nattering away about Robert Harris’s latest thriller with a glass of Muscadet on a Tuesday? Got to be better than Panorama, surely?’

‘Yes. And Sylvia plays bridge on a Tuesday …’ You could see the wheels of his mind turning.

‘There you go, then. No reheated cauliflower cheese with an enormous baked potato on a tray.’

‘No.’ His eyes widened. ‘Quite. Well, I might.’ He looked enormously chipper suddenly. ‘Tell Peggy I might well.’

‘Might well what?’ said Jennie as she slipped in breathlessly beside me, just as, coincidentally, did Sylvia, only she had to sit on the pew in front, as there was no more room. She glared at her husband for not saving her a place.

‘I was just telling Angus about the book club,’ I breezed.

‘What book club?’ asked Sylvia, quick as a flash.

‘Oh, er … I’ll tell you about it later, my love,’ said Angus, as, fortuitously, Saintly Sue tapped her lectern to get us to our feet. We all rose obediently.

‘Is he coming?’ Jennie asked me softly, alarmed.

‘Think so,’ I told her.

‘We’ll have to ask Sylvia, now,’ she said nervously.

‘No we don’t,’ I said brazenly. ‘That’s not what Peggy had in mind at all. We don’t want Sylvia.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Jennie muttered as Sylvia’s head half turned at her name.

‘And anyway, she’s got bridge on a Tuesday.’

I raised my chin. Opened my mouth to fairly shout the Gloria to the heavens, feeling empowered and euphoric. In fact my voice rang out so loud and clear above the others that Sue glanced at me in delight.

Luke, true to form, was late. This time I took more interest as he bounced boyishly down the aisle, blond hair flopping, music under his arm, eyes twinkling behind his specs. Hm. He’ll do, I thought.

Jennie shot me a horrified look. One or two people in the pew in front turned to grin.

‘What?’

‘You just said, “He’ll do”!’ she hissed.

‘Did I? Oh, well. Nothing like a bit of clarity, eh?’

More titters at this. Meanwhile Luke bounded up the steps to his organ, raised his sensitive hands and struck a chord which we all dutifully followed, launching into the Gloria again.

Afterwards, as we gathered up our hymn sheets and shuffled out, I made purposefully for our new organist as he descended from his instrument at the far end of the church. Jennie was on my heels, though, a restraining hand on my arm.

‘Steady,’ she muttered.

‘What? I’m just going to see if he wants to join.’

‘I know, I can tell, but some people might not understand the eager gleam in the young widow’s eyes. Might misconstrue it