The Reverend took another sip of tea to lubricate his dry throat and continued :
“Doctor Hariman told me he had taken David under his wing; he was teaching him to be a bolder, stronger, more confident person. One who would make progress and gain stature in life. He wanted him to become an 'acolyte', no less. He said he wanted to put him on a new path…”
Ruby sipped her tea, shook her head and tutted.
“Hmm. Under his wing and on a new path indeed. Such a prosaic turn of phrase. Ahh, the usual suspects, wealth, power, fame, vanity. It's a very seductive cocktail, even for a man of the cloth...”
Her words clearly hit home. The Reverend opened his mouth to object, but Ruby ignored him.
“I'm assuming that your squabble with Hariman the other night was due to his threat to retract the hoped-for miracle of the rose? All of that hotly-anticipated global attention?”
The Reverend looked crestfallen. He nodded.
“I thought as much.”
Ruby sighed and straightened herself up on the settee. She had come to a decision.
“Reverend Phullaposi. We shall allow them their hour in the sun. We shall then be party poopers extraordinaire. This afternoon you shall go and see David and try to convince him, using all of your pulpit-honed skills of rhetoric and sermonising, to reject this false prophet Hariman and cast him out. This evening, no doubt, you will receive a visit from Hariman. He will pretend that nothing at all has happened between you – as indeed will you. He will then pump you for information, which you must not give him – taking care not to antagonise him in the process. You will pretend that everything is fine between you, and all is dandy.”
“But....” began the confounded minister.
“But nothing.” Ruby firmly squashed his stammer. “Everything is fine between you. All is hunky-dory. He knows this is a lie. You know this is a lie. And he knows that you know this is a lie. It is all a game to them at the moment. Until Saturday, it is all a game. When Saturday comes... Well, that is a different kettle of fish. Meantime, I need to do a lot more research into the symbolic significance of pearls and crabs. Roses, too, possibly, both real and symbolic... Now. Is everything quite clear to you – what you need to do?”
Ruby glanced at the weak, sick-looking vicar, and knew that one of her stirring speeches was required. But what to say? She cleared her throat, stood up and tried to look as determined as an elderly, portly witch can.
“Remember, Reverend... We are not beaten yet! This is not the end. It is barely the beginning. Indeed, it is not even the beginning of the end, but what it is... It is the end of the beginning! And we should be thankful for that, Courage man! Courage!”
The image of strength and conviction she sought to project was not helped, however, by the cup of weak tea in one hand and the half-eaten jam tart in the other. So she quickly finished both, patted the confused clergyman on the shoulder, smiled at him reassuringly and then got ready to leave.
In the hallway, she complimented him once again on his selection of watercolours and suggested that he should buy some of Marks and Spencer's own brand of tea and biscuits in readiness for the Doctor's visit, later.
“He has a particularly gratifying reaction to them!”
Chuckling to herself she bid the Reverend a fond farewell. On the doorstep, however, she suddenly paused.
“One more thing,” she added, pretending it was something she had just remembered: “Is there any mention in the Parish Records of any spirit or poltergeist activity, or indeed of any other mysterious unexplained happenings taking place in Widdowshins? This would be... quite a while back?”
The Reverend thought for a second and told her he didn’t think so, but he would check and get back to her as soon as he could about it.
“Please. If you could. And remember, speed is of the essence in these matters. Tally Ho!”
And with that, she was off; striding boldly away, back down the garden path of the vicarage.
Chapter 10
Parched and Parchment
Back at the caravan, Pearl, Tobias and the others were anxiously awaiting Ruby's return, but she still managed to startle them all by the flamboyant manner in which she burst through the door and announced:
“I feel we must prepare ourselves for a very eventful and memorable village fête this year! I expect there to be quite a lot of drama and excitement, and not a few fireworks!”
She clasped her hands together conspiratorially and cast her eyes around the gathered throng:
“Now, we must make ready. We have only twenty-four hours in which to concoct a couple of spectacular 'events' of our own to derail and thwart the nefarious plans of Hariman, Devizes and her grubby kin. If we are to catch our rats, we must bait a very tempting trap – and you can shut yours, before you get started.”
Ruby glared at Eddy, who was just about to say something that he felt was particularly witty.
He thought better of it in the circumstances.
Ruby, meantime, had taken out her mobile phone, and was scrolling though her contacts.
“I think perhaps I should give young Malcolm a call... We might have need of his particular talents... ”
**********
Malcolm Nicodemus Oldthwaite, or 'Malc The Weirdo' as he was more generally known around the village, was the proprietor of BOOKS FROM BEYOND; 'Specialists in the Occult, Pop Culture, Rock Memorabilia, and Arcane Esoterica'. It was, as might be imagined, a favourite port of call for Ruby. If one were ever to question Malcolm about his friendship with the elderly witch, he would probably have described himself as her 'Apprentice' or 'Acolyte'; but the truth was that, while he was good on the theory, he had no aptitude or
