the village vicar 14

 

Chapter 14 The greatest of these is Love

 

Chaz was having tea with Sergeant Pete Noakes and Constable Timothy Cotton.

“So, how is it working out with Vivienne?” asked Chaz.

“We’re engaged,” said Pete, grinning broadly. “And she loves the idea of getting married in a country church with a nice peal.”

“It’s certainly decent, now,” said Chaz.

“You look tired, Vicar,” said Timothy.

“I am. Rachel had me in and out of bed half the night,” said Chaz.

Timothy raised an eyebrow.

“New girlfriend?”

“Well-established cat,” corrected Chaz. “Normally, she rides on my shoulder to bed, comes down the duvet and settles.  Zebulon goes ratting with my shoelaces for a while, and then settles on the end of the bed. But last night, Madam got restless, and demanded out, and then sang outside the window until I let her in, and then repeated the performance an hour later.”

“And you’re a sucker?” said Pete.

“Last time I refused to let her out when she asked, she crapped in my socks,” said Chaz.  “I wasn’t about to let her make a smell of all smells if she had an upset tummy.”

“I see the dilemma,” said Pete.

“So, any news on the policing front?” asked Chaz.

“Depends what you call news,” said Pete.  “You know that the big hardware store was losing money and couldn’t figure out where the thefts were being committed?”

“Yes, and I’m glad they kept the name Sanders & Michaels, and didn’t go for initials like so many of them seem to these days,” said Chaz.

“Well, I figured it out,” said Pete. “It helped my promotion to Sergeant on strength of figuring it out.  Well, we set up a presence to watch, and there were still losses.  I searched the wheelbarrow of the staff member who has permission to take away odd broken slabs for his own use; and he doesn’t seem to be breaking stuff deliberately, and there was nothing underneath it. Can you guess, though?”

“Nicking wheelbarrows by filling them with what he’s allowed and wheeling them out,” said Chaz.

“You ought to be a ruddy detective sergeant,” said Pete. “We managed to get a lot of the wheelbarrows back that he’d nicked, but there he was, wheeling them out under the eye of whichever constable was watching him, and the bugger was laughing up his sleeve at us.”

“You do appreciate sin when you’re in my job,” said Chaz.  “Did he come quietly?”

“Did he, hell!” said Pete. “He tries the ‘I identify as a wheelbarrow, officer, and I was looking for a lover.’”

“What did you do, nick him for running a wheelbarrow brothel?” asked Chaz?

“Not quite, though if he makes a fuss, I’ll keep it in reserve,” said Pete. “I said, ‘I identify as a police officer, and I’m nicking you for public lewdness with your girlfriend.’”

“He caved, then,” put in Timothy. “He called us the sort of names The Captain wouldn’t tell The Reverend.”

“How shocking for those poor, innocent wheelbarrows,” said Chaz.

“So, when are you marrying your Lucy?” asked Timothy. “Here’s Pete and me, about to embark on matrimony, and you’re still hanging her about.”

“When Matrimonial duty’s to be done, to be done, a policeman’s life is quite a hectic one,” sang Chaz. “I... uh, haven’t asked her yet.”

“Well,  whyever not?” demanded Pete.

“Inertia,” said Chaz.

“Get over it,” said Pete. “You sorted us out; we’re sorting you out. Now! Go on – we’ll take care of your house.”

“And your iced lemon biscuits,” said Timothy.

“The other batch are hidden, so no detecting,” said Chaz.

He took the dog, Adam, with him, for moral courage. And a small box which had been burning a hole in his pocket for a while.

He went round the back, as usual, and found Summer doing somersaults on the lawn.

“Hello, Rev Chaz! Hello, Adam!” said Summer.

“What are you doing out of school?” asked Chaz.

“I developed a rash and they sent me home,” said Summer. “I told them it was only a grass rash from cutting the grass but they made like I was a leper and the deputy head had forty kinds of fit about Mummy sending me in with a rash, and I said I hadn’t had a rash until I got to school because they’re cutting the field for its last haircut of the term, and when there’s cut grass, it’s too tempting not to have a grass fight. Only it makes me come out in spots. It doesn’t itch much,” she added.

“You want to watch out for ticks,” said Chaz, absently. “They can give you Lyme disease which is seriously nasty. Though on a frequently trimmed school field you should be safe enough. Even if not treated to a number two skinhead like Sir Tarleton’s cricket ground.”

“And that goes bald round the stumps,” said Summer. “I play cricket at school; can we have a church team, and knock the spots off Sir Tarleton?”

“You know how to poke a Reverend to let out the Captain, don’t you?” said Chaz, ruefully.

“Of course; I’m practising for when you marry Mummy because girls are supposed to wind their daddy round their little fingers,” said Summer.

“Well, then, the question I was going to ask you is superfluous as you seem keen on the idea,” said Chaz. “Well, in that case, perhaps you will keep Adam company?

“Of course; we’ll go and visit Sergeant Blake next door, and see if he wants to join the cricket team.”

“He’s a handy bat, but you’d have to run for him.”

“Oh! I can do that.” Summer skipped off through the hole in the hedge with Adam. Chaz went in the back door.  Lucy was in the breakfast room which she used as her studio for the north light, drawing a black labrador dog diving down a hole.[1]

“Tea’s in the pot, Chaz, pour me one while you’re at it, I made one and then got an idea. There are some of your biscuits left, but please keep them away from my end of the table, I don’t want to smear chocolate chip on Harvey here.”

Chaz made tea and helped himself to a biscuit, and moved fast to stop Lucy from washing her paintbrush in her tea whilst picking up the chipped cup with water in to drink.

“Oh! Thank you, Chaz,” said Lucy, blushing. “I’ve got that sorted now; a bit of a rush job.”

“How would you like the chance to make art a hobby?” asked Chaz.

“Depends what the catch is,” said Lucy. “I’d love to make art a hobby, but it does cover the bills.”

“The catch is being a vicar’s wife and letting him do most of the cooking,” said Chaz.

Lucy’s mouth fell open.

“Chaz! Was that a proposal?”

“It was a piss-poor one for a man who is accustomed to Corinthians chapter 13, wasn’t it?” said Chaz. “Lucy, will you do me the honour of being my wife? And moreover will you be afraid to keep the Church cricket team in order?”

“Oh! Yes, Chaz!  I... I thought you wouldn’t ask me because of my irregular past.”

“You’re a widow in my book; and even Mrs. Hadley thinks it’s about time I married you.”

“She’s not a bad old trout when she stops being judgemental,” said Lucy. “Do you think she’d like to be the matron of honour?”

“She’d love it,” said Chaz. “I’ll have to get bellringers in, though as two of our team will be tied up getting tied up, as you might say.”

Lucy laughed and blushed; she had been an enthusiastic volunteer in learning change-ringing now the church had a peal of five decent bells.

“And what’s all this about the church cricket team? I didn’t know we had one.”

“We have you, me, and Summer, and I am relying on her to persuade Ross Blake if she will run for him.  I heard Wendel is accounted a useful bat and tolerable wicket keeper; any man who can field cats who didn’t want to go to the vet has to be a born wicket keeper.”

“Five, almost half a team.  Young Evan Queave can throw straight,” said Lucy. “Now the police are part of the village, you might ask Pete and Timothy. Charlie Wilkes used to be on Sir Tarleton’s team but he got thrown off for saying you were a proper Christian.

 “I had no idea; I’ll ask him, and the fuzz,” said Chaz. “Now! Don’t distract me, Mrs. Cunningham-to-be; I have a ring for you.”

He retrieved the box from his pocket and slid the blue diamond and diamond ring onto her finger.

“Chaz! That’s a ring for someone out of my league!” gasped Lucy.

“No, my love; it’s the ring for a woman I value above any other, because I want to demonstrate to the idiots who put you down how much I value you,” said Chaz. “Which is not in the least proper behaviour for a vicar, but I am human too.”

“It’s lovely! Is that a sapphire?”

“No, it’s a blue diamond, from the mines of Kimberley. I wanted to match your eyes, and sapphires are too dark.”

Lucy blushed again.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“I’ll put up the banns then,” said Chaz. “May I kiss you?”

Lucy went to his arms, and the kiss was long and tender.

“It feels like coming home,” said Lucy. “Why am I crying?”

“Because sometimes tears are bright diamonds of joy as well as the raindrops of sorrow,” said Chaz.

“I love it when you are whimsical,” said Lucy. “I have no idea how good I may be at cricket, but I’ll stand my ground with grim determination to thrash Sir Tarleton.”

“Attagirl,” said Chaz. “I’m going to go and enlist Pete and Tim and Charlie whilst I might.”

oOoOo

 

“A second cricket team? Count me in, reverend,” said Charlie. “I ain’t no good at fast bowling, but I can do slow ones which break to the offside.”

“Nice,” said Chaz.  “Ajit Patel is their fast bowler, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and he’s a steady bat as well, but he can be rattled by slow balls,” said Charlie. “Most of the team are what Sir Tarleton calls ‘county’ and the ones who go to church usually go somewhere posher than a little village church.”

“Well, I shall look to you for a run down on all of them,” said Chaz. “I’m going to buy the meadow which was up for sale for development, and keep it for cricket, dog-walking, and leisure. We may need housing, but we need nice green spaces too, and turning a stream into a sewer I will not have.”

“Hear hear!” said Charlie. “I thought that’d be a right shame if the meadow was turned into ticky-tacky boxes, which won’t be housing for the poor nowise, but shoddily-built expensive five-bedroom places for them as have more money than sense.”

“Just what I thought,” said Chaz.

 

 

---

[1] ‘Harvey And the Black Hole’ and ‘Harvey and the Big Red Bus’ are charming stories by my friend Heather King, illustrated by yours truly. I do recommend  them for 5-8 year olds.