was four o’clock on Tuesday, 20 October, and we had decided to meet in the staff-room to confirm arrangements for tomorrow’s Harvest Festival. Letters had gone out to parents, Sally’s choir had rehearsed the hymns, including an ambitious descant for ‘We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land’, trestle tables had been ordered from the village hall along with huge white tablecloths from the Women’s Institute and the local champion gardener, George Hardisty, had just delivered one of his trademark giant carrots. All appeared to be ready for one of the highlights of the school calendar.
‘OK, everybody, let’s begin,’ I said.
Suddenly there was a hurried tap on the door. It was our local vicar … and he was out of breath.
‘This is a surprise, Joseph,’ said Vera, glancing up at the staff-room clock. ‘I thought you were collecting me at five o’clock .’
Joseph tugged at his clerical collar. ‘Please may I have a drink of water?’ Jo jumped up, grabbed a heavy North Yorkshire County Council tumbler from the draining board, filled it with water and handed it to Joseph. He drank deeply and then looked around as if seeing us for the first time. ‘Guess what,’ he said.
‘What?’ we all said in unison.
‘The bishop’s coming!’
‘Do you mean the new one?’ asked Vera in surprise.
‘Bishop thingummy,’ said Anne.
‘Yes, him,’ said Joseph, wide-eyed. ‘He telephoned to say he’s coming tomorrow .’
‘Oh,’ said Vera, ‘so what was the message?’
Joseph took a deep breath. ‘Well … he was really pleasant.’
‘Yes?’ said Vera.
‘And he said his name is Neil.’
‘And?’ said Vera.
Joseph wrinkled his brow. ‘Well … he said, “Do call me Neil,” which I thought was nice of him.’
‘What did he actually say, Joseph?’ said Vera firmly. ‘Calm down and think.’
‘Yes, er … let me see … He said he wants to visit us during afternoon school and stay for the Harvest Festival. Then he would like to have a look at St Mary’s.’ Joseph glanced nervously at Vera. ‘So I invited him to come back to the vicarage for tea.’
There was an intake of breath from Vera. ‘I see,’ she said and gave Joseph her special determined look, one I knew so well. ‘I need to get Joyce Davenport to help me with fresh flowers for the church and I’ll get something nice for tea from Prudence at the General Stores.’
Anne had summed up the situation and looked at the clock. ‘Jack, I think we know what we’re doing tomorrow, so how about closing the meeting and I’ll go with Vera to get the church ready?’
‘And we’ll help,’ said Sally and Jo in unison.
‘Good idea. Meeting closed,’ I said.
‘Thank you, everybody,’ said Vera and hurried off to get her coat, ‘and do come along, Joseph. There’s lots to do: we have to make a good impression on the new bishop. Tomorrow needs to be perfect .’
We should have known life was never that simple.
The school was silent apart from the ticking of the school clock and the whisper of the wind in the bell tower. It was almost seven o’clock and I was at my desk completing the next day’s order of service. Ruby had stayed late to give the hall floor an extra polish and had promised that she and Ronnie would put out the trestle tables for the Harvest Festival immediately after school lunch. Best of all, Beth had phoned and suggested we meet for a meal at The Royal Oak on her way home from Hartingdale.
Everything was ready, so I completed my daily entry in the school logbook, tidied my desk and locked the giant oak entrance door. As I walked out of the school gate I saw that Beth had already arrived. Her pale-blue Volkswagen Beetle was parked by the village green and she was sitting at our usual table in the bay window. Soon we were enjoying Sheila’s special chicken and chips in a basket and a welcome drink.
Beth looked a little tired as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears. ‘We
‘OK, everybody, let’s begin,’ I said.
Suddenly there was a hurried tap on the door. It was our local vicar … and he was out of breath.
‘This is a surprise, Joseph,’ said Vera, glancing up at the staff-room clock. ‘I thought you were collecting me at five o’clock .’
Joseph tugged at his clerical collar. ‘Please may I have a drink of water?’ Jo jumped up, grabbed a heavy North Yorkshire County Council tumbler from the draining board, filled it with water and handed it to Joseph. He drank deeply and then looked around as if seeing us for the first time. ‘Guess what,’ he said.
‘What?’ we all said in unison.
‘The bishop’s coming!’
‘Do you mean the new one?’ asked Vera in surprise.
‘Bishop thingummy,’ said Anne.
‘Yes, him,’ said Joseph, wide-eyed. ‘He telephoned to say he’s coming tomorrow .’
‘Oh,’ said Vera, ‘so what was the message?’
Joseph took a deep breath. ‘Well … he was really pleasant.’
‘Yes?’ said Vera.
‘And he said his name is Neil.’
‘And?’ said Vera.
Joseph wrinkled his brow. ‘Well … he said, “Do call me Neil,” which I thought was nice of him.’
‘What did he actually say, Joseph?’ said Vera firmly. ‘Calm down and think.’
‘Yes, er … let me see … He said he wants to visit us during afternoon school and stay for the Harvest Festival. Then he would like to have a look at St Mary’s.’ Joseph glanced nervously at Vera. ‘So I invited him to come back to the vicarage for tea.’
There was an intake of breath from Vera. ‘I see,’ she said and gave Joseph her special determined look, one I knew so well. ‘I need to get Joyce Davenport to help me with fresh flowers for the church and I’ll get something nice for tea from Prudence at the General Stores.’
Anne had summed up the situation and looked at the clock. ‘Jack, I think we know what we’re doing tomorrow, so how about closing the meeting and I’ll go with Vera to get the church ready?’
‘And we’ll help,’ said Sally and Jo in unison.
‘Good idea. Meeting closed,’ I said.
‘Thank you, everybody,’ said Vera and hurried off to get her coat, ‘and do come along, Joseph. There’s lots to do: we have to make a good impression on the new bishop. Tomorrow needs to be perfect .’
We should have known life was never that simple.
The school was silent apart from the ticking of the school clock and the whisper of the wind in the bell tower. It was almost seven o’clock and I was at my desk completing the next day’s order of service. Ruby had stayed late to give the hall floor an extra polish and had promised that she and Ronnie would put out the trestle tables for the Harvest Festival immediately after school lunch. Best of all, Beth had phoned and suggested we meet for a meal at The Royal Oak on her way home from Hartingdale.
Everything was ready, so I completed my daily entry in the school logbook, tidied my desk and locked the giant oak entrance door. As I walked out of the school gate I saw that Beth had already arrived. Her pale-blue Volkswagen Beetle was parked by the village green and she was sitting at our usual table in the bay window. Soon we were enjoying Sheila’s special chicken and chips in a basket and a welcome drink.
Beth looked a little tired as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears. ‘We
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