“In that case, we need to organise a 'spectacular' of our own,” she mused. “Oh, and one other thing… You don't happen to have any urns, pearls or crabs hanging around your church by any chance?”
Reverend Phullaposi looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Um, well, yes, naturally, we have urns in the church. In fact, there are even a few sculptures of columns within the church… they do look exceedingly urn-like, they’re up above and near to the pulpit. Quite nice they are, too. As for pearls... Well, you know, it's strange, but ever since I was first appointed to this parish, I've always thought how... well, how pearl-like in quality the residual, err – for want of a better word – 'blobs' were in the glass of the old windows high up in the vestry and again above the beautiful window in the Lady Chapel. Especially at certain times of the year, when the setting sun illuminates them so captivatingly at a particular angle. No crabs, though… hmmm… No. No Crabs. Absolutely no crabs. Crabs are – crabs are... SECRET..Ive. Secretive creatures... but – but I fear I have said far too much already..”
The Reverend fell stonily silent. He was visibly shaking.
“I think that you are being evasive with me, Reverend,” Ruby snapped. “I think that somebody – a certain medical man, perhaps – has got you all in a fluster about something. Something mysterious and secretive, relating to crustacians, perhaps?”
The startled cleric's mouth fell open in alarmed surprise and unconscious acknowledgement, but he shook his head even so.
Ruby would not let it rest: “You think that the crab medallion is a powerful talisman, but it is a symbol primarily and symbols of such a nature only have power if you allow them to do so.”
She was increasingly convinced that something pretty evil was afoot and that secrecy would only help it. Hariman was not to be trusted and neither were Nutter or Devises:
“Ask yourself, Reverend: When was the last time any of these dubious characters were noted for their charitable works?” she demanded.
“But my dear Ruby, surely you of all people should appreciate that it's unfair to judge a book simply by its cover. In any case, my faith has taught me that everybody deserves a second chance in life if they repent and are truly sorry for any prior misdeeds.”
“Poppycock! Do you realise the significance of the date on Saturday? Think, Reverend Phullaposi, think! It may mean nothing to you, presently, but it is the night of the nativity of Nephthys! The Egyptian equivalent of Aphrodite, in turn coupled with the Virgin Mary and the Magdalene! Surely you must be aware of the links between this ground and the Magdalene? If not, you better get you’re an education… and be quick sticks about it! Devizes, Nutter and the Doctor wish to do something 'spectacular' in the churchyard on this night. And that really cannot be good news, I fear. Do the words hijack, usurpation and defilement mean anything to you? Oh, no. We must confront them and thwart their sordid plans. You must tell me the whole sordid story precisely as it was told to you, and you must tell me now. This may at least give me some indication of what despicable activities they have in mind.”
The increasingly worried Reverend began to talk...
“As I told you, it all started when David introduced Doctor Hariman to me as someone who might be able to help with funding the village fête. I went to Hariman's home for a chat, and while we were talking, quite by coincidence, Alice Nutter and Liz Devizes just 'popped round' to see their friend and medical advisor. He told them why I was there and they were very enthusiastic, suggesting that what the village really needed was something that would put it on the map... Buxton has spring water, Loch Fyne has kippers…. We needed something of our own; something to put Widdowshins on everybody's lips. Something unique. I said I would have a think and get back to them. Anyway, I thought and thought, I prayed and prayed, and then one evening, just as I had risen from the alter (after a prayer for a local who was infirm at the time), there it was. Staring me right in the face. The answer to my prayers. Right there, in the stained-glass window in front of me. Roses. Simple, beautiful, perfect roses. I mentioned the idea to the others, and they became most excited. Liz Devises professed to being a rather gifted horticulturist, albeit in a totally amateur manner. She offered to 'create' a hybrid rose. She suggested that it might be within her power to create a flower of such beauty, fragrance, delicacy and size that it would revolutionise the very way that people think of roses forever after. The Widdowshins’ Rose would be famous; not just locally or nationally, but right across the world. So much so that we could franchise its growth and production, and the money raised could be used to repair the Church roof and then any other monies subsequently raised could be given to other worthy projects.”
Ruby was exasperated by this revelation.
“Within her ‘power’ to create a ‘rose’? Roses… Herne love us… Do you not see the further irony of the white rose in that? The further link to the Lady and the Magdalene??? I give up, sometimes I really do! And what, prey tell, did Alice, Liz and Hariman stand to gain from all this magnamity?” pursued Ruby.
The Reverend thought hard, trying to remember exactly what the deal was.
“Nothing... Save the satisfaction of knowing they were helping those in need. Their only request was that they be allowed to have a small closing 'display', within the Church grounds, at the end of the fête.”
“A likely tale. What of David? Our banjo-playing postman protagonist? What were his motives in this charade?” The case against them all was building brick by brick in Ruby's mind. The more the Reverend spoke,
