Chapter Fourteen: Fairy Dust

      Poppy told me that Hebe Winter had received a brief note from the bishop’s secretary giving her the date when the new vicar was to take up his duties, which was much sooner than everyone had expected.

      So when two huge removal vans rumbled by on the Friday afternoon of that week, heading in the direction of the old vicarage, sheer naked curiosity drove me to walk up there on the pretext of buying a loaf from the Spar on the Green, even though I realised it was probably only the new incumbent’s possessions arriving, rather than the man himself.

      The drive of the vicarage is quite short, most of the large grounds, which back onto Angel Lane, being behind the house. From the open front gates I could see the vans parked in front of the open porch and men carrying things in through the big central door, though mostly just quite ordinary-looking furniture, apart from a huge, dark, carved wooden headboard that looked very old. But it was hard to tell from that distance and anyway, I saw only that much because the wind lifted the blanket that was draped over it for protection.

      There were what might have been large statues too, but they were also enveloped in so much packaging that it was hard to make out what form they took. Still, there’s something fascinating about other people’s belongings, like a TV game where things slide past you on a conveyor belt and you don’t know what’s coming next.

      But I couldn’t stand there for ever, so in the end I had to carry on walking. Perhaps I should get a dog? They are such a good excuse for nosy-parkering! Only then I don’t suppose Tabitha would ever speak to me again.

      When I got back I knew Jake was home from college and had brought Kat with him, because his long black coat and her half-unravelled-looking woolly wrap thing had been tossed over the back of a chair and then I fell over their bags. There was no sign of them in the cottage, but I could hear Grumps’ voice in the museum, so thought they were probably with him.

      I had a quiet sit-down with a mug of hot chocolate and then poured out three more, added hot milk, and took them next door to see what they were up to.

      Jake was at the top of a stepladder, hanging masks high up on the wall, with Kat steadying it. As usual she was dressed in a frothy, short black frock, black tights and big boots, like a rare species of pretty Goth fairy. So far, Grumps did not so much tolerate her presence about the place as seem entirely unaware of it, but I expect she would impinge on his consciousness eventually.

      Grumps was up at the other end of the room, where workmen were finally installing the tracking for the heavy velvet curtains that would divide off the pentagram area, and had pulled up his Gothic-backed wooden chair to the centre of the floor so he could watch them. This they seemed to find unnerving, but I expect that was because he’d already expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms about all the delays and broken promises.

      Fortunately, the rest of the curtains had been hung in time for the first magical rite of the season, as it were, so it had gone ahead. (Jake and I had taken care not to venture into the museum while the faint sound of chanting could be heard.)

      Tabitha was sitting bolt upright on Grumps’ knee, her yellow eyes fixed unblinkingly in the same direction as his. I handed out the hot chocolate and then asked the two workmen if they would like some too, or a cup of tea.

      They declined, saying they just wanted to finish the job and get off, which in my experience is almost unheard of. I’d automatically expected a response along the lines of, ‘Tea – milk and three sugars, love.’ I could entirely see where they were coming from, though – and also that their stay would be indefinitely prolonged if they kept nervously dropping things the way they were doing – so I stayed chatting to Grumps to distract his attention. Not that Grumps really chats; he just makes pronouncements, but if you can get him started on a series of those he can keep going for ages.

      The museum was really beginning to take shape and most of the glass cabinets were crammed with all kinds of peculiar things, labelled in Grumps’ almost unreadable handwriting. (I can read it, but that’s from long practice, transcribing his letters and chapters.) His collection was already catalogued, so he was now compiling a glossy brochure and several pamphlets from it to sell to the visitors. I anticipated having to type those up before they went to the printers too.

      I had to leave eventually in order to have time to eat something before getting ready to meet David, though both Jake and Grumps’ unexpressed disapproval made me feel like that song where a husband is begging his wife not to take her love to town. Jake even declined my offer of cooking him and Kat a pizza first.

      Their attitude may have coloured my choice of clothes, for while I didn’t want to look as if I had pulled out all the stops, I did feel it would be very satisfying if I could instil a tinge of regret in David that he’d let so much gorgeousness slip through his fingers.

      Pretty impossible really. In the end, I just chose my newest jeans and a very pretty top sprinkled with sequins in pink and turquoise, and paid a bit more attention to my face than my usual five-minute makeover.