you,’ Lilith said. ‘In case he tries to come back.’
‘And I’ll go round with the Bowls of Cleansing,’ offered Xanthe. ‘Mix us a large G&T, dear, for afterwards.’
Rituals accomplished, things got quite merry, and after some urging from Em I told them all about
Skint Old Northern Woman
magazine.
Everyone came up with suggestions for more articles, some so rude I’d probably be prosecuted if they came to anything.
‘You should publish it,’ suggested Madge. ‘Everyone would love it. It would go down a treat at the WI.’
‘Publish it? I couldn’t possibly do that – it would take a fortune to start up a magazine.’
‘Yes, but you could try it as a one-off issue, and see how it went.’
‘It would be great!’ Susie said. ‘My sister Jen works for a small publishing company. I’ll ask her how much it would cost.’
I shook my head regretfully: ‘I can’t afford anything at all.’
‘It should be published!’ Em said, as if she’d just received Divine Revelation. ‘Anne thought so too, when I told her about it. Perhaps we could pay for the first print run?’
I shook my head. ‘No, you’d just lose your money – but it’s fun writing the articles. Anyone got any more ideas?’
‘How about an ‘Are You a Victim’ quiz?’ suggested Freya.
Are You a Natural Victim? Try our quiz and find out!
Your partner slaps you around, and then goes out. Would you:
A) Put up with it, because it was your fault after all, and he won’t ever do it again, will he?
B) Balance a large heavy item on top of the half-open kitchen door and await events
C) Leave (May be combined with answer B)
D) Fell the bastard with a large heavy object as he turns to go, thus giving you plenty of time to pack.
On the way home Em and I stopped in at the Black Dog, where we found the new vicar playing darts with Walter, Bran and Father, with Jessica sitting in the corner looking bored over a Martini.
Bran, surprisingly, can throw a mean dart. You just have to remember not to stand between him and the board when he’s got the darts in his hand, because he throws them fast.
I was introduced to the vicar, whose name was, entirely suitably, Christian, although he likes to be called Chris. He was a different species from our last one, being very tall, rangy, fortyish, and with a long, iron-grey ponytail and drooping moustaches, like a handsome but slightly melancholy Wyatt Earp. He wore small gold rings in his ears with dangling crosses, and a T-shirt with a dog collar and waistcoat printed on it.
The moment he set eyes on Em he dropped his darts and assumed the unmistakably sheepish expression of the seriously smitten male, but I don’t think she noticed.
She looked especially nice that evening, I thought. The red T-shirt under her dungarees had washed out to a flattering faded rose, and her light blue eyes with their blacker-than-black pupils looked like a very intelligent goat’s.
Em joined in the game while I took my drink and sat with Jessica, who seemed pitifully grateful for any company, even mine.
‘God, this is boring!’ she confided. ‘I thought Mace North might come in – he does sometimes when Madge babysits for him – but not tonight.’
‘Madge was at Freya’s house for the discussion group.’
She yawned. ‘Then Mace won’t be coming. The vicar’s quite dishy, but he won’t flirt – that’s the trouble with vicars. I think I’ll go home.’
‘I’ll walk back with you,’ I said, draining my pint of bitter and blackcurrant. ‘I’m pretty tired – it’s been a long day.’
‘I’m going home, Ran,’ she called, and pouted when Father just smiled and waved a hand at her before taking careful aim with his next dart.
I thought lust’s first bloom had rubbed off already. But it would be a bit worrying if Jessica left, because the next mistress would probably need the Summer Cottage, which was just starting to feel like home.
Chapter 12: Jumbled
‘Chris – the vicar –
‘And I’ll go round with the Bowls of Cleansing,’ offered Xanthe. ‘Mix us a large G&T, dear, for afterwards.’
Rituals accomplished, things got quite merry, and after some urging from Em I told them all about
Skint Old Northern Woman
magazine.
Everyone came up with suggestions for more articles, some so rude I’d probably be prosecuted if they came to anything.
‘You should publish it,’ suggested Madge. ‘Everyone would love it. It would go down a treat at the WI.’
‘Publish it? I couldn’t possibly do that – it would take a fortune to start up a magazine.’
‘Yes, but you could try it as a one-off issue, and see how it went.’
‘It would be great!’ Susie said. ‘My sister Jen works for a small publishing company. I’ll ask her how much it would cost.’
I shook my head regretfully: ‘I can’t afford anything at all.’
‘It should be published!’ Em said, as if she’d just received Divine Revelation. ‘Anne thought so too, when I told her about it. Perhaps we could pay for the first print run?’
I shook my head. ‘No, you’d just lose your money – but it’s fun writing the articles. Anyone got any more ideas?’
‘How about an ‘Are You a Victim’ quiz?’ suggested Freya.
Are You a Natural Victim? Try our quiz and find out!
Your partner slaps you around, and then goes out. Would you:
A) Put up with it, because it was your fault after all, and he won’t ever do it again, will he?
B) Balance a large heavy item on top of the half-open kitchen door and await events
C) Leave (May be combined with answer B)
D) Fell the bastard with a large heavy object as he turns to go, thus giving you plenty of time to pack.
On the way home Em and I stopped in at the Black Dog, where we found the new vicar playing darts with Walter, Bran and Father, with Jessica sitting in the corner looking bored over a Martini.
Bran, surprisingly, can throw a mean dart. You just have to remember not to stand between him and the board when he’s got the darts in his hand, because he throws them fast.
I was introduced to the vicar, whose name was, entirely suitably, Christian, although he likes to be called Chris. He was a different species from our last one, being very tall, rangy, fortyish, and with a long, iron-grey ponytail and drooping moustaches, like a handsome but slightly melancholy Wyatt Earp. He wore small gold rings in his ears with dangling crosses, and a T-shirt with a dog collar and waistcoat printed on it.
The moment he set eyes on Em he dropped his darts and assumed the unmistakably sheepish expression of the seriously smitten male, but I don’t think she noticed.
She looked especially nice that evening, I thought. The red T-shirt under her dungarees had washed out to a flattering faded rose, and her light blue eyes with their blacker-than-black pupils looked like a very intelligent goat’s.
Em joined in the game while I took my drink and sat with Jessica, who seemed pitifully grateful for any company, even mine.
‘God, this is boring!’ she confided. ‘I thought Mace North might come in – he does sometimes when Madge babysits for him – but not tonight.’
‘Madge was at Freya’s house for the discussion group.’
She yawned. ‘Then Mace won’t be coming. The vicar’s quite dishy, but he won’t flirt – that’s the trouble with vicars. I think I’ll go home.’
‘I’ll walk back with you,’ I said, draining my pint of bitter and blackcurrant. ‘I’m pretty tired – it’s been a long day.’
‘I’m going home, Ran,’ she called, and pouted when Father just smiled and waved a hand at her before taking careful aim with his next dart.
I thought lust’s first bloom had rubbed off already. But it would be a bit worrying if Jessica left, because the next mistress would probably need the Summer Cottage, which was just starting to feel like home.
Chapter 12: Jumbled
‘Chris – the vicar –
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