Chapter 4

I woke, again, to the smell of coffee. I don’t know how she managed to get up, boil the kettle, replace the table and put her bed clothes away without waking me, while the smell of the coffee did the trick.

“Good morning,” I muttered, barely audibly.

She heard me, though. “Sorry if I woke you! Would you like coffee?”

“I’d love some coffee. But I’ll get up and come down for it.” I needed the toilet, but I wasn’t about to say that...

When I’d emptied my bladder and cleaned my teeth (some years before, a dentist told me that cleaning my teeth before breakfast was as good as doing so afterwards. I decided to get it out of the way. Besides, it’s good to taste breakfast well.) I settled with a mug of coffee opposite Dora.

“I was thinking,” she began, slowly, “that I’d like to go to church. If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s entirely up to you. I’m an occasional attender, myself. What flavour are you?”

“What?”

“What sort of church? Catholic? Orthodox? Protestant? Reformed?”

“Oh! I see. Well, I was brought up Catholic, but Greek Catholic, not Roman. We were a minority, even in Hungary, I’m told. But I don’t think I mind. I doubt if there’s a Greek Catholic congregation anywhere near, anyway.”

“There’s a Roman church in Keswick. The nearest church, though, would be Saint John’s, Bassenthwaite. That’s about two miles up the road. A Church of England church. D’you want to look up the services?”

“Yes, please.”

As it turned out, there was a Communion service at Saint John’s, at eleven. Apparently, there was schedule for the services, rotating through, I think, about ten different venues. Saint John’s only had a service every other week – something like that. I don’t know. I was vaguely aware that rural churches often had to share their ministers.

After a bacon-and-egg breakfast, we set off early to walk to the church and, as it turned out, got there just as someone was unlocking the doors. A blushing enquiry from Dora led to her being taken to a small room at the side by a motherly type, while I wandered around. The building was not highly esteemed by Pevsner, but I thought it attractive enough, in a Victorian, neo-Gothic sort of way, and the setting is, of course, lovely.

I’m not a connoisseur of church services – I’m too uncomfortable with many of the ingrained attitudes and beliefs of mainstream Christianity to be a regular – but I’m familiar enough to know it was a middle-of-the-road Anglican Communion service, which took the usual hour. The motherly type wasn’t the Vicar, though she did read a lesson; the service was led by a younger woman who, even in the robes she wore, was clearly slimmer.

At the appropriate point, we both went forward for the bread and wine, and I was pleased that Dora received both with a smile. At the end of the service there was the tea and coffee gathering which is almost de rigueur these days. The coffee is usually pretty dreadful, and this was if anything slightly better than usual. Dora had tea. Several people spoke to us and just before I was going to suggest leaving, the motherly type, who introduced herself to me as Missus Vanessa Morgan, invited us to have lunch with her and it was clearly going to be difficult to decline – so we didn’t.

It was very traditional and very good – roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, carrots, cabbage and gravy – cooked by her husband. He explained, after introducing himself with “Call me Will,” that he and his wife alternated cooking when it was a morning service. “Of course,” he went on, “Nessa has her role as a counsellor, so we’re not really interchangeable.”

“She helped me a lot this morning,” Dora stated with a smile.

“I’m glad,” he returned.

We left mid afternoon, and when Dora went ahead, Missus Morgan touched my arm to stop me for a moment. ““Look after her,” she said quietly in my ear.

“I intend to try.”

We took our time walking back. Where the path was narrow – quite often, in fact – I was happy to let her lead. She had – has – a world class derrière. Watching her had its effect on me, and it’s just as well she was facing forward so I could adjust my dress.

Back at the van, Dora almost immediately headed for the tiny ‘kitchen’ area. As for me, I sat down with my laptop to read a Kindle book.

Within a couple of hours she had two sorts of scone – cheese, and sultana – and a chocolate cake cooling on the side. Not long after that, we were eating scones – still warm, the butter was melting on them – and drinking tea.

“Oh, my – you’re quite the cook,” I commented. I was about to open my mouth to say ‘you’d make some lucky man a great wife’, but thought better of it. I don’t always remember to engage brain before opening mouth, but on that occasion...

I didn’t say it, but I’m sure she heard it anyway. She shrugged. “I could hardly fail to learn domestic stuff, the way I was brought up. Actually, I enjoy it. Steve, I never said I never wanted to be a wife. I just wanted to choose who and when.”

“Yeah. You said something like that. Seriously, though, my mother made sure I was a fair baker, but you’ve got me beat.”

“Thanks.”

“After tea, an opportunity for laundry, that sort of thing. We’ll stop overnight, either in the south Lakes or the Dales, get to my parents’ home late Tuesday. No mains electric or water after we leave here, okay?”

“Will they like me?”

“Who? Oh, my parents? They’ll love you. Seriously. Mum has never said ‘I told you so’ about Brooklynn, but I knew she wasn’t keen. You, she’ll love. In fact, she’ll be looking for wedding bells. Be warned.”

She looked at me quizzically. Sighed. Frowned. “Steve?”

“Uh huh?”

“About calling in Penrith. Um. Could we ... I mean ... maybe ... ride Oscar and leave the van here? Have an extra night here?”

Perhaps surprisingly, I hadn’t thought of that. I’d been fixated on moving on from where we were. “That’d work,” I said. “Spend longer there, if you like, or spend time in Keswick. If the weather is fit, of course. It’s not much fun riding a motorbike in the rain.”

Showers, separated by a single game of chess – I won, but she was by no means a pushover having beaten me twice last time – and to bed. The one thing I missed, living in the van, was unlimited hot water for showers, but I considered that a price I had to pay for the freedom.

Again, she was up before me. It could have been awkward otherwise, as her bed formed part of what was really was the ‘living room’ area during the day. I never had to resort to sitting in the cab of the vehicle yet. Omelette, baked beans and fried bread. Coffee. Orange juice. I could almost feel my waistline spreading.

The sky was overcast, but there seemed a minimal threat of rain. We duly dressed and straddled Oscar for a pleasant ride to Penrith. As it was quite warm, we dressed lightly, and I was very aware of her firm breasts pressed into my back as we rode.

Once Oscar was safely parked and disc-locked, I turned to Dora. “Would you like company?”

She smiled. “Not this time. Meet up at ... mid-day?”

“Castle Park,” I said.

I wandered the town until an ‘antique’ shop caught my eye. The three gold balls of a pawnbroker may have had something to do with it. In the window was a flute in an open case. The price - £500 – made my eyes widen, but I went in.

“The flute, sir? Certainly!” He fetched it out of the window.

Yamaha are a well-known maker of quality instruments, and I was happy to see their mark. The instrument looked fine to me, with no signs of abuse. “I’m looking for an instrument for a friend,” I said. “I’d like her to try it and approve it...”

“Indeed, sir. I would expect that. I believe this to be a good instrument, but I think the price puts potential buyers off. If your friend approves, well, I’ve had it on my hands for quite a long time. I’m sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory deal.”

“I think I’d rather she didn’t know how much I was paying...”

“Ah. Tell you what, sir, if she’s happy with it, I’ll let it go for £450. I honestly can’t go any lower.”

“Thanks. I expect I’ll be back after lunch. At least, I hope so. Perhaps you’d put it under the counter until we come? If for some reason we’re not here by three, we won’t be coming.”

“Very well, sir. I hope to see you later, then.”