Chapter 5

This chapter introduces characters from the ‘Dryad’ and ‘Dulcie’ series...

Carole;

“Don’t you need me for the weekend, Terry?”

“No, Chuck*, we have schoolkids earning a bit of pocket money and I only need one or two experienced folk to keep an eye on things. You enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

*Northern endearment, pronounced ‘Chook’. Nothing to do with the name Charles, possibly derived from ‘Chick’ as in baby chicken.

“Okay. But I’ve done okay?”

“You’ve done great, Chuck. You’re going to be an asset.”

Rhiannon:

“Harry, thank you. I can’t say how happy I am that Kat met you.”

“Well, I’m pretty happy too, Rhiannon. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“I’ve been here long enough. It’s time to leave you and your family to your privacy.”

“You’re always welcome. Kat needs her mum, you know. Why don’t you move here?”

Rhiannon hesitated. “It’s tempting, to be sure. You know, I think I’ll have a word with Conor next time he’s home.”

“We really don’t like the idea of your being alone most of the time.”

“I do have friends there. And there’s the coven, too. But I’ll think on it. I do need to leave, though, to catch my train.”

David Staniland, the local Vicar;

“Rosie, can you spare me some time?”

“Of course, David! When?”

“This afternoon?”

“Certainly.”

David Staniland was met at the door of the large, Victorian villa, by Rose-Marie Wilson, holding the hand of a small boy – Ted Wilson, Junior. “Good afternoon, David! Please come in.”

“Thank you,” but he squatted down and held out his hand to the little boy. “Good morning, Ted.”

The little boy shyly took his hand and shook it. “Good morning, sir.” Then he looked up at his mother and tugged on her hand.

“Okay, Teddy. I need to talk to Mister Staniland, but you can watch Ceebeebies. I’ll get you a glass of milk.”

“I don’t mind if he stays,” the Vicar said.

“Oh, he doesn’t want to miss his favourite programmes, and I would prefer to be able to concentrate on what you’re saying.”

He blushed slightly, but allowed her to steer him into the lounge; a pleasant room, but cool. A live fire burned in a stove in the fireplace, but it looked as though it hadn’t been started long before. Rosie returned from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry it’s not too warm in here. This house is hard to heat effectively. I lit the fire in anticipation of your coming but it hasn’t had enough time to get established.”

“No problem. I was looking for someone to...” he hesitated. “act as a sounding-board, if that makes sense.”

She smiled. “And you chose one of the youngest adults in your congregation?”

“I chose someone who doesn’t have a paid employment and whose wisdom, and faith, I trust.” (He’s well aware that a full-time mother and housewife still works!)

It was Rose-Marie’s turn to blush. “Thank you, David.”

They were silent together for a minute or so until he took a deep breath. “When I came to Saint Jude’s, I was impressed, and envious, of the strength of the faith, commitment and spirituality of the congregation.” He paused. “I soon became aware that I was inadequate to fill the space left by the previous incumbent, or, perhaps the previous incumbent and his wife.”

“They were very special, David, and instrumental in my finding reality, or at least resolving issues, in my faith. But, David, you’re not inadequate, just ... different. Especially recently.”

“Thank you. Yes. Recently. After the Christmas service, I was greeting people and shook hands with a visitor. As I did so, something ... opened up ... in me.” He touched his head and his heart. The young woman just watched him, and didn’t comment. “I went to see her. I wanted to try to get her to join us. Or, at least, to find out something about her.” He paused again and took a deep breath. “But when I asked her, she said she was ... a witch. That she’d seen that something was upsetting me and, her words, she’d ‘turned a key in a door’.”

Rose-Marie cocked her head, thoughtfully. “And set you free?”

“Well, yes.”

“God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.”

He snorted. “So you quote me an eighteenth century hymn writer? Not the Bible?”

She smiled. “Okay. The Good Samaritan. Who is your neighbour?”

He sighed. “It’s not easy.”

“No, it’s not,” she spoke with serious mien. “I think there’s a lot of stuff the Church has collected which gets in the way of just, well, knowing God. I agree there’s plenty in the Bible about avoiding witches, but, you know, if someone has a gift, and it’s good, and used in a good way, surely it must be from God, don’t you think? My parents took me to a church where it was all ‘thou shalt not’. Everything enjoyable, everything bright and beautiful, was bad. It was miserable. Then I met Ted, who took me to Saint Jude’s, where I was introduced to a real relationship with God. One where I was allowed to be happy. I could dance, and enjoy a glass of wine. I was allowed to enjoy making love to my husband – it wasn’t a duty.”

He nodded. “I can identify with some of that.” He sighed. “Oh, well. I’ll concentrate on my life and ministry, and leave...” he hesitated, “the young lady who claims to be a witch, to make her own way.”

“That sounds sensible, David. Now. Would you like a cuppa?”

Kat:

“Carole, Sunday we’re taking Aibhilin out to Padley Gorge. We’ll be having lunch at the station cafe.”

“Oh! That sounds lovely!” She hesitated, but went on, “Would you mind if I didn’t come? I’ve been thinking. You know, my parents...” she blinked and swallowed hard, “they were sort of missionaries. If I’m not to follow your way, I thought I’d better explore my parents’ religion.”

Kat smiled. “Oh, no, that’s fine! Better than fine. I think you’re quite right. And if that’s not right for you, there are other ways.”

At Saint Jude’s church:

“Good morning! Welcome to Saint Jude’s. My name is Margaret Simkins. Is this your first visit here?”

“Oh! Um ... I’m Carole Forster. Yes, I’ve not been here before.”

“Forster. Forster. Why is that name familiar? Anyway, it’ll come to me, I expect. Ah!” She cut off and waved at a younger woman, rather slim, across the room, who came across.

“Mum?”

“Rosie, this is Carole, who’s new here. Would you like to take her with you?” She turned back to Carole, “If you don’t mind, that is. I quite understand if you want to sit on your own...”

“Oh, no, ma’am ... Margaret. I’d be happy to sit with someone who can tell me what to do and when. Hello, Rosie.” And Carole followed the young woman into the worship area.

Sitting with Rosie and her husband helped Carole feel relatively comfortable. Having recovered her memories thanks to Kat and her family, she was able to recall ‘church’ with her parents, so it wasn’t entirely alien. Even so, the setting was different, and Rosie’s company encouraged her to feel accepted.

She was further encouraged by hugs during the ‘Peace’, not just from Rosie, but also from several other young women of similar age, while several men shook hands. At the communion, she was going to remain in her seat, but Rosie wouldn’t hear of it.

“Come with me for a blessing! You don’t have to have the bread and wine.”

The Vicar, David Staniland, was assisted at the distribution by a young man Carole later found out was Margaret’s husband. David rested his hand on her head and muttered a few words she couldn’t make out, and she felt a tingling sensation which persisted through a more conventional blessing, which she could understand.

Afterwards, of course, there was the cup of tea or coffee gathering which is almost de rigeur these days. While Carole didn’t regret her decision to come to church rather than accompany the Birds to the country, she was happy to have found someone to talk to; someones, actually, as she and Rosie were joined by Margaret, then Ted (Senior, Rosies’s husband), and Mike Simkins, Margaret’s husband and the man Carole had seen assisting the Vicar with the Communion.