Liz was not taken in by his warmth and bonhomie in the slightest. She knew full well that he was simply demonstrating by his manner that he was very, very much in charge here; and from his words she understood that there was dirty work to be done, and that both she and Alice would end up doing it. So be it. That was fine. It was what she had been brought up to do – and, in the past, she had thoroughly enjoyed doing it.
She eased herself into a large, leather, wing-backed chair, as near to the door as she politely could, in case a swift exit was called for.
Shortly, Alice returned from the kitchen with the refreshments; a stupidly large pot of tea and a dubious-looking seed cake.
Alice sat down, and Hariman gestured, haughtily, for her to pour the tea.
For an uncomfortable minute or so, nobody said or did anything.
Finally, the Doctor helped himself to a large portion of seed cake, bit into it.
“Hmm. Delicious,” he remarked, daintily dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
He tried a sip of tea: “Nettle? Your own brew? How fabulous!”
He politely cleared his throat, waited a couple of seconds to underline the gravitas of the moment, smiled benevolently at the two still slightly dust-coated witches and announced in a quiet, steady, calm and confident voice...
“Ladies... I think we have been rumbled.”
Chapter 9
A Tête-à-tête and Tea
Ruby arrived outside the Vicarage at ten o'clock in the morning, sharp. She rapped on the solid wooden door with all the vigour and confidence of a traditional girls' school sports and gymnastics mistress.
Reverend Phullaposi opened the door to find Ruby's cheerful face positively beaming at him.
“Good morning, Reverend!” she boomed heartily, breathing in the air in an overenthusiastic manner. “Bracing, isn't it? What a beautiful Summer's morning! We're certainly having good fortune with the weather this year! The plants are blooming and the scents are heavy in the air. Marvellous, don't you think, Reverend?”
Without waiting for a reply or an invitation, Ruby pushed some pots of home-made jam and marmalade into the Reverend’s open arms, barged past him and, before he knew it, was already in his living room studying the collection of watercolour paintings on his walls.
“My, my. These are rather excellent. Such powerful emotions, captured so atmospherically by the artist. Wonderful, simply wonderful.”
She moved from painting to painting in turn, hands clasped behind her back, admiring each of them with an art lover's critical eye.
“Tea?” bumbled the confused and surprised vicar.
“Capital idea my good fellow, capital!”
Ruby sat on the sofa while Reverend Phullaposi poured the tea, and declared earnestly that she was sorry she had not been a frequent, nor consistent parishioner, but that we all have differing paths to follow, both spiritual and otherwise.
“However, I am here now. I have a feeling that you, and indeed the village, are going to need considerably more help than usual at the upcoming village fête – and I'd like to help if I can.”
Reverend Phullaposi thanked her for her concern, but explained that this year, for once, he was singularly blessed. He had already had offers of assistance from many different quarters.
Ruby listened with growing alarm as the Reverend continued. Normally, he explained, the Church Society would have to beg for help and funding, but this year, all his prayers had apparently been answered. The answer had come in the unusual and unexpected form of the postman, David. (God does indeed sometimes move in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform). David had approached the Reverend, suggesting that Doctor Hariman (such a busy member of the community) was willing to help the church and that the good Doctor's friends, though admittedly not members of the congregation, were nevertheless of quite a religious bent (in their own way) and were keen to help put Widdowshins on the map, so to speak.
“I bet they were,” thought Ruby, suspicious of the picture the Reverend was painting.
Anyway, David had introduced the Reverend to Doctor Hariman, Alice and Elizabeth, and the trio had suggested that a good way to really get Widdowshins noticed would be to do something 'spectacular'; something that would be guaranteed to make the local and national news. The idea was stunning in its simplicity, and everything had been going swimmingly, until –
“Until three nights ago,” interrupted Ruby, tapping her teacup and pursing her lips at the vicar.
“Um, yes, quite. How – How did you know?”
“Never mind. Was the date of the village fête set by you? Or by Hariman and his little coven?”
The Reverend paused, frowned, deep in thought.
“Hmm, come to think of it, it was Hariman's suggestion. He remarked that the date had to be a significant one, a red letter day... I just thought he meant that he intended it to be memorable, that's all.”
“I'm sure that if it were left to Messrs Hariman and co., the date would indeed live on in the village’s collective memory, long after we were all gone. Now... Tell me, Reverend... Do you perchance remember the time when Hariman first arrived in our village?”
The Reverend paused and thought hard for a few seconds. “Not exactly... No, I don't.” His brow furrowed even further.
“Precisely. Neither do I. Nor, in fact, does anybody else that I have posed the question to. Odd, isn't it? What have Hariman, Nutter and Devizes organised for this village fête 'spectacular', might I ask?”
The Reverend shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He felt rather like a shy schoolboy telling tales to his schoolmaster. He confessed he knew a little of one part of the plan, and nothing of the other.
“All I really know for certain is that it will be a surprise event, the exact nature of which will be revealed at the fête itself.”
Ruby did not like the sound of
