Skeletons In The Cupboard Collection

Chapter 8

Olive had been going to church in the village for some time now and had come to think of her attendance as second nature. Not a Sunday went past when she didn"t dress up in one of her pretty frocks, polish her best shoes and occasionally leave instructions with Geoff on what time to put the meat into the oven for roasting. On three out of four Sundays, Geoff would join his wife just to appease her, but he had little religious inclination himself, preferring to believe in fate rather than some higher being. Besides it being her main weekly social event, Olive also enjoyed the time away from her family responsibilities and looked forward to the ten minutes or so of pleasant chatter with her fellow church-goers afterwards. With both of her girls at Sunday school for the duration of the service and little Godfrey settled in his pram while his father tinkered in the garage, Olive could fully relax, reflect on the week behind her and give thanks for all the wonderful things that the good Lord had bestowed upon her.

The fact that the church was in full view of Marilyn, or perhaps Martin Roberts" cottage and vice versa, was a slight embarrassment to Olive. She hadn"t quite recovered from the shock of learning that she had frequently been sharing afternoon tea with a man. Geoff had ribbed her about it for days afterwards but, keen to exonerate herself, Olive had been quick to point out that Geoff hadn"t noticed the fact that her friend was a cross-dresser either. On the rare occasion that Olive did catch a glimpse of someone in the cottage garden she would raise her hand in a quick wave, then hurry on her way. She had been too shocked to go and speak to the man, after all she felt deceived, but Olive bore no hard feelings, and instead missed their afternoons of laughter. And so, it was with a heavy heart that she strolled through the graveyard to meet her fellow parishioners.

Reverend Todd was a wonderful vicar. He always seemed to choose a topic for his sermon that was either close to Olive"s heart or relevant to some incident that had happened recently in the village and with which she could connect personally. On their way out of church at the end of service, the entire congregation would shuffle slowly out through the huge arched doorway as the person in front of them paused to shake hands with Reverend Todd and thank him for yet another thought-provoking service. Olive was definitely not alone in her admiration for the Parish priest, as each and every villager would be full of compliments from the choice of hymns to the Reverend"s compassion for the sick and elderly.

It also did no harm to the vicar"s female follower"s that he was also charming and handsome, with only slightly greying hair at his temples giving away a hint of his true age. The ladies of the village hung on to the clergyman"s every word and Olive was no exception. It was such a refreshing change to meet a vicar with modern ideas, instead of the stuffy old relics who had conducted the repetitive services in the villages of Olive"s youth. She remembered many a Sunday morning being gently pinched by her mother as she fell in to a light doze, head nodding gently as the preacher in the pulpit scorned the Devil and urged the parishioners to confess their sins before emptying the coins in their pockets on to the enormous collection plate being handed around. Wasn"t it funny, she had asked her mother, how churches were always in need of funds for repair? Olive"s mother had laughed and said something about money for the elderly priest"s drinking habits too. It wasn"t until now, with the wisdom that can only come with maturity, that Olive fully appreciated that comment and it still made her smile.

Mrs. Todd was revered just as much as her husband in the community. She had taken on the responsibility of teaching Sunday school in the village hall, organised fetes and whist drives, and visited those in need of company and a sympathetic ear. Olive always thought that Mrs. Todd fitted the stereo-typical mould of a vicar"s wife to perfection. She never dressed too ostentatiously, preferring twin-set and pearls to any garishly printed dresses, and wore her long dark hair neatly in a bun which show-cased her smooth complexion and make-up free skin. Despite the villagers always being encouraged to call her Cynthia, a name that both suited her and was easy to remember, most people called the Reverend"s wife by her married title which was both a mark of respect to her husband"s status and a way of showing how much they appreciated her singular efforts at fund-raising and boosting community morale. Mrs. Todd was certainly very easy to get along with and seemed just as amiable with the senior citizens in the parish as with the children to whom she imparted Bible classes. Olive was certainly very impressed with the way in which her own two daughters showed enthusiasm for their Sunday school lessons and Barbara, who was very often stubborn when it came to tuition, had even been heard singing hymns in the bath.

The vicarage was quite a grand but slightly run-down house which stood in immaculate gardens directly opposite the church. Although not modern by today"s standards, it was built far more recently than most of the other village dwellings and stood out as such, with its perfectly square windows and red brick exterior. It was quite a large place for just three occupants, the third being the Todd"s pretty young daughter Caroline, but they seemed content enough with their lot and went to great lengths to ensure that their door was always open should any parishioner feel the need to drop by.

As with most rural communities, significant religious and seasonal festivals were always a time for the villagers to pull together in an effort to show their support to both their local church and to each other. Harvest Festival was one such occasion and for weeks before the main event of distributing hampers to the elderly and adorning the church interior with wheat sheaves and flowers, the women of the village would hold numerous meetings to delegate tasks and to work out schedules for polishing the large amount of wood and brass that needed constant upkeep.

Olive was only too happy to volunteer her services, and was delighted when she was included in the pre-Harvest Festival meetings held at the vicarage each Monday evening for a month beforehand. She hadn"t really known what to expect when she had eagerly signed up to join the other women in their duties, but was happy just to be a part of the gatherings and was willing to undertake any given task. At the first meeting, Olive had nervously knocked at the vicarage door, wondering exactly what the women would be talking about and how formal these discussions were. If there was ever a moment of doubt about her acceptance in to the group, it was banished from Olive"s mind within thirty seconds of stepping in to the magnolia hallway. Reverend Todd greeted her with a wide pearly-white smile, took her coat and scarf, and then ushered Olive in to the large and comfortable sitting room where nine other women chatted informally over cups of steaming Earl Grey tea.

The vicarage sitting room was high-ceilinged and spacious, with oil paintings depicting country scenes adorning the walls and heavy drapes hanging across both of the south-facing windows. Olive couldn"t help but notice the abundance of newspapers and periodicals that had been crammed in to the magazine rack, and the groaning bookshelves holding everything from 19th century poetry to a teach yourself book on watercolours. It was exactly how she had imagined it would be, homely, large and comfortable.

In the centre of the room stood Mrs. Todd, smiling at the ladies around her and holding a huge catering sized teapot which she now held out towards her new guest. Olive gratefully picked up a clean china cup and saucer from the sideboard and allowed her host to fill it to the brim. A couple of buxom ladies now quickly shuffled together on the sofa, making room for Olive to sit down and join the lively conversation. With cups replenished and biscuits handed around, Reverend Todd cleared his throat and the meeting began.

"My dear ladies”, he began, “Let me first thank you all for coming. Without you, our Harvest Festival celebrations would not be possible. Each and every one of you are absolute angels.”

There was a murmur of consent as the women absorbed the compliment and then each item on the agenda was carefully addressed with actions and delegates quickly being decided.

It seemed to Olive that the Reverend and Mrs. Todd were used to conducting discussions full of constant interruption and intermittent laughter, but the ladies in attendance meant no disrespect, they were simply excited at the prospect of being a part of the upcoming event. For over an hour the agenda was perused and agreed, with Olive volunteering to help with the colossal task of cleaning the church artifacts, aided by her neighbour Mrs. Hargreaves. With headway made, more tea was offered and the conversation took a more general turn, with several of the women now complimenting Mrs. Todd on her beautiful home and exquisite taste in tea. Olive was starting to feel a real sense of camaraderie with the other ladies and soon found herself chatting about her children and the district from which she and Geoff had moved the year before. Each new piece of information was accepted with a smile, a courteous nod or a murmur of approval, and Olive enjoyed the attention a great deal.

The next meeting followed pretty much the same format, with cups of tea and platefuls of biscuits being consumed before getting down to business. The women seemed to be sitting in exactly the same seats as on the previous occasion, which caused Olive to smirk slightly as she made her way over to her place on the sofa. The rigid ways of these country folk never ceased to be a source of amusement to her, even Geoff had started to comment on how the same people caught the bus to town every Saturday morning and that the men of the village always appeared at the same time every Sunday to mow their lawns and trim their hedges.

“Everything okay Olive? You seem miles away?"

Olive lifted her gaze to where Reverend Todd stood looking down at her.

“I"m fine thank you, just wondering which Harvest Festival task I"m best suited for.”

The vicar smiled and patted her shoulder gently, “

“A talented young lady such as yourself would be an asset to us in any capacity.”

Olive blushed and took another sip of tea. She had never met such a charming man of the cloth before, he certainly had a way of chatting to the ladies. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Todd coughing loudly in an attempt to get the meeting underway. She wore yet another jumper and cardigan combination, this time in powder blue, and had carefully selected a thin belt for her skirt in the same hues. Olive would never cease to be amazed at the pride in their appearance that these villagers took. It was like a never-ending fashion parade! Still, Olive was a great lover of clothes and looked forward to Geoff giving her the weekly housekeeping money, from which she would save a few shillings in order to buy new outfits for herself and the children but she also enjoyed comparing fashion and beauty tips with the ladies of the village too, and she now glanced around the room to see which women were sporting a new hairstyle or shade of lipstick. Such an amiable group, she thought, and I"m delighted to be a part of their community.

The following weekend, Olive found herself in the company of Mrs. Hargreaves as they walked briskly towards the church with one basket full of brass cleaning fluid and cotton rags, with which they intended to fulfill their nominated task and another containing refreshments for their lunch. Olive couldn"t help but think her neighbour was a rather over-dressed for the task at hand, with her fashionable mauve dress and cream patent shoes, but she made no comment. A wide patent belt cinched in Mrs. Hargreaves" waist, which only caused more emphasis on her ample bosom and shapely behind. Her own choice of clothing had been much more practical and Olive sported a light cotton blouse, loose fitting trousers and a pair of flat leather pumps. She would have the last laugh later on, as Mrs. Hargreaves was bound to complain about her sore feet and stained attire. It never ceased to amaze Olive, the lengths that some women would go to for the sake of fashion.

It was a warm and sunny morning, and both women were in good spirits considering the arduous task that lay ahead of them that day. They chatted happily as they left their homes behind and stopped for a few minutes to say good morning to Peter Bristow who was already half way through mowing the grass in the cemetery. Peter was a cheerful fellow and his obvious devotion to keeping the grounds looking neat ensured that the little church looked in pristine condition. Olive looked around admiringly. This was certainly what life in a close-knit community was all about, everyone pulling together and helping to maintain the very heart of the village.

"Morning, ladies” Peter bellowed over the top of the buzzing machine, “Lovely day for it.”

Olive and Mrs. Hargreaves nodded in agreement.

“He"s a cheerful soul”, enthused Olive"s companion, “Always got a smile on his face.”

“He certainly seems like a very decent sort” she replied, smiling.

The huge oak door was unlocked as usual, even at this early hour, as such peaceful community churches had no need to have their doors secured against thieves in these tranquil little parishes. Mrs. Hargreaves took Olive"s basket from her and gently placed it on a pew in the front row. On their journey down the lane, the two women had decided it would be most productive if one started at the rear of the church, polishing candlesticks and the collection plate, while the other began cleaning the numerous decorative crosses on top of the altar, that way they could meet in the middle to share their flasks of tea and parcels of sandwiches half way through the day.

As she began her work at the altar, aided by the beams of sunlight which now shone through the elegant stained glass windows, Olive marveled at how just being inside a house of God could humble a person. She felt as though the Lord were constantly watching over his flock with tender care, and now looked down upon the two women as they started their menial tasks with vigour and diligence. The eerie lack of noise added a theatrical quality to the inside of building too, with the only audible sounds being soft thuds as the two ladies moved around in companionable silence.

After an hour of rubbing and polishing, there was a loud click as the door was opened and Reverend Todd stepped inside. He greeted the women with his usual warmth and gratitude, complimenting them both on their work with the brasses and thanking them again for taking time away from their busy households to assist with the necessary duties in the church. Olive wondered how the vicar always managed to give the aura of a movie star, with his silky soft voice and handsome good looks.

"I was wondering if you ladies would like to join me for lunch at the vicarage today," the Reverend asked "I"d be grateful for the company, as my wife has taken Caroline in to town to buy new shoes".

Mrs. Hargreaves shot a glance in Olive"s direction, they had already decided to stop for minimal time to eat their packed-lunches today, as both wanted to return home in order to relax for an hour before preparing tea for their families. Olive gave a little shrug. It would be impolite not to accept the vicar"s offer, especially if he needed some company. Mrs. Hargreaves mimicked her friend"s gesture and told the Reverend that they would be happy to join him, providing he agreed to share the food which they had already prepared.

"Excellent", nodded the vicar, smiling even more eagerly than usual, "But I do insist that I make us all a nice pot of tea and throw in some of my wife"s delicious Bakewell tart. Shall we say one o"clock?"

"One o"clock it is", replied Mrs. Hargreaves, “We"ll be there, don"t you worry about that.”

A while later, with admirable progress underway and a great many brass objects now gleaming in the sunlight, Olive was more than ready to stop for lunch, as was her neighbour and they now headed outside to rinse their grubby hands under the water pump. As Mrs. Hargreaves stooped to splash water over her arms, Olive couldn"t help but smile to herself. There were tell-tale signs of the morning"s work on the other lady"s frock and she didn"t look quite so prim and proper any more. Maybe next time she would think twice before wearing her poshest dress to clean brasses! Anyway, each to their own, Olive thought, but she still felt justified in her decision to dress in a more appropriate manner.

It had been a long morning, with just one short break to drink tea and now both women could feel their stomachs rumbling in anticipation of their lunch at the vicarage.

It was the first time that Olive had set foot inside the Reverend"s kitchen and she cast an appraising eye over the eclectic display of china plates that adorned a huge Welsh dresser and the sparkling white Belfast sink that was so clean it looked as though it had never been used. Mrs. Hargreaves had already made herself at home it seemed and she rested her bottom on the steel rail of the huge Aga stove, whilst smiling the whole time at the flustered vicar. Olive wondered whether her neighbour was a frequent visitor to the Todd"s home. Something in the way that Mrs. Hargreaves casually leaned upon the fixtures and seemed to instinctively know where everything was kept told Olive that she probably was. Perhaps her and Cynthia Todd were good friends, she mused, although they hadn"t exchanged much more than a few pleasantries at the Harvest Festival meeting. Oh well, Olive thought, I"m the newcomer around here, the other villagers have more than likely been close friends for years.

Reverend Todd had gone to great lengths to make his guests feel welcome and, besides the pot of tea, had laid a red gingham tablecloth over the huge kitchen table and set out plates and cups with fresh linen napkins folded neatly at the side of each place setting. The radio was on in the background, and as Olive and Mrs. Hargreaves were ushered to their seats, the latest American tunes now deftly mingled with the sound of the kettle whistling and a gentle splashing as the Reverend poured milk in to a jug.

Olive carefully started to unwrap the sandwiches which had lain in her basket all morning and said a silent thank you for the cold temperature inside the church which had helped to retain the freshness of their lunch. Mrs. Hargreaves wasn"t known for her culinary skills and had left the sandwich-making to Olive, instead offering to provide the flasks of tea and some plums from her garden. Olive had been happy to oblige and had carefully prepared home-baked bread with two delicious fillings, ham and tomato and cheese with her brother"s fabulous piccalilli. The trio tucked in without delay and soon finished their meal with a great deal of satisfaction. The conversation flowed easily, although Olive couldn"t help but feel that her two companions were not taking a great deal of interest in what she had to say. Still, it had been a long morning and there was plenty of work to finish over the next couple of hours.

Being such conscientious ladies, it was quickly decided that Mrs. Hargreaves would stay to help the vicar clear away the crockery whilst Olive returned to her duties at the church. There were only a few plates and cups to wash up and Olive surmised that the unexpected lunchtime gathering would do little to disrupt their cleaning schedule.

“Thank you so much vicar”, she babbled as they said their goodbyes, “It was so very kind of you.”

“Not at all my dear”, Reverend Todd answered, his perfect teeth glowing as he smiled at Olive.

“And don"t take too long over those plates”, she called jokingly back towards the kitchen where the other woman stood running warm water in to the sink.

“Right behind you Olive”, yelled Mrs. Hargreaves, “I"ll be ten minutes tops.”

However, as it happened, it was an hour and a half later that Mrs. Hargreaves re-entered the church.

Feeling somewhat annoyed that her neighbour had very probably been partaking of more tea and Bakewell tart with Reverend Todd, Olive didn"t look up from her task at hand, and therefore failed to notice the flushed face and tear-stained cheeks of the other woman. In fact, some minutes passed before she noticed the quiet snuffling and creaking woodwork as Mrs. Hargreaves sank down on to a wooden pew and began to search in her pockets for a clean handkerchief.

"Whatever"s the matter?", asked Olive, trying to suppress the alarm in her voice as she dropped her blackened rags to the ground and made her way up the cold stone floor of the central aisle.

At first the other woman only hunched herself over and blew her nose noisily, ignoring the concern in Olive"s voice and concentrating only on clearing her nasal passages. It wasn"t until Olive took a seat next to her that Mrs. Hargreaves looked up and offered an explanation.

"Reverend Todd", she said in a whisper "Has behaved in a very inappropriate way.”

“What, you mean he tried to…?” gasped Olive, suddenly realising what she was being told.

Mrs. Hargreaves nodded and burst in to tears again.

"Are you sure?" asked Olive, trying to keep her disbelief under control "He"s a man of the cloth!”

“Oh, yes, I"m sure. He"s a wicked man, I feel so ashamed.”

As Mrs. Hargreaves recounted the incident in detail, Olive"s mind raced. It was hard to imagine. If what her friend was telling her about the clergyman was really true, they would have to report him, and she had no reason not to believe her neighbour. The woman at her side was certainly very distressed and the red rims around her eyes proved that she had obviously been crying for quite some time before returning to the church. Oh my goodness, their vicar was some kind of s*x fiend!

"I don"t want you to tell anyone about this", Mrs. Hargreaves suddenly said, straightening her clothes and wiping away the last tear from her eye, "My husband would be mortified".

For the next ten minutes, Olive tried to make her friend see reason. Surely Reverend Todd should be held accountable for his actions, reported to the police, or reported to the Bishop…..

Despite her friend"s concern and advice, Mrs. Hargreaves still insisted that the matter be kept between the two of them and made Olive promise that she would tell no-one about what had taken place at the vicarage that afternoon. Olive reluctantly agreed and wandered outside to fetch her companion a cup of water. Peter Bristow was pulling up weeds within a few yards of the water pump and turned when he heard the gravel crunch under Olive"s feet.

“Everything alright, love?” he called, scrambling to his feet, “You look as white as a sheet.”

Olive bit her lip and nodded. “I"m fine, thanks Peter. It"s just getting a bit cold in there.”

“Ay well, don"t catch your death for the vicar” he chuckled, “He"ll need you two ladies to help make the altar look impressive for Harvest Festival.” With that, Peter Bristow turned back to pulling thistles up from the side of an ancient grave.

“No, we erm, we"ll be going soon”, faltered Olive, “I must get back and finish up.”

With that, she rushed back through the main door, forgetting all about the water and feeling quite relieved that the man hadn"t questioned her further. Olive"s neighbour sat in the same position at the rear of the church, perfectly still and even more solemn than when she had returned from the vicarage. There was little that could be said to relieve the tension in the air and with no course of action seeming the right one, the two ladies sat in silence for several minutes. Neither woman felt that they could continue their brass cleaning duties and Olive insisted on clearing away the materials while Mrs. Hargreaves made her way home.

"Go and put your feet up, love” enthused Olive, rubbing her friend"s arm, “And have a think.”

Mrs. Hargreaves looked alarmed, her eyes widening like a rabbit caught in bright headlights.

“What about?”

“Well about what you"re going to do of course!” gasped Olive, flabbergasted at the very idea that her neighbour was going to leave the matter unreported.

“Maybe”, came the mumbled response, so quietly that the words could hardly be heard.

“It is a very serious matter”, chided Olive, “What if he tries it on with someone else?”

The question went unheard, as Mrs. Hargreaves had already collected her belongings and was now scuttling out of the church, her heels clattering on the red tiled floor. Oh dear, she really ought to have thought things through and at least given some consideration to her rumpled clothing and tear-stained face before going back to her own home, reflected Olive. Goodness only knows what conclusions Stan Hargreaves might jump to seeing his wife turn up on the doorstep with a dirty dress and red eyes.

It didn"t take long for Olive to gather up the polish and rags, but a certain edginess of being alone in the church had now started to niggle at her and she couldn"t wait to leave. Peter Bristow was nowhere to be seen outside, making the silence of the still afternoon even more prominent. The only sounds to be heard were the faint rustle of the leaves on the trees and the distant barking of a dog some way down the road. As she reached the wooden gate at the end of the churchyard, Olive had a clear view of the vicarage on the other side of the lane, and she could also see the vicar, standing right there in full view with his hand raised ready to wave at her.

Olive flushed with anger, b****y cheek! The man obviously had no shame at all.

She turned on her heel as fast as she could and darted up the lane towards home, feeling both infuriated and scared. This was a man of God, the villagers were supposed to be able to trust him!

As she neared the cul-de-sac, Olive started to feel less afraid and more indignant about the events of the afternoon and by the time she stepped in to her kitchen, where Geoff was reading the newspaper, Olive was more than ready to give him her account of the whole incident.

Geoff listened intently, with grave concern spreading across his features. If there was one thing that really got him angry, it was men being disrespectful to women, and in his view Reverend Todd had seriously stepped over the line. He was going to sort him out.

“The dirty scoundrel”, tutted Geoff, throwing aside his newspaper, “Whoever would have thought it of a man of the church?”

Olive hardly registered what her husband intended to do before he had grabbed his jacket and put on his heavy work boots. Geoff wasn"t a violent man, and had no thoughts of driving his fists in to the middle-aged vicar, but instead would talk to him rationally with the hope that Reverend Todd would admit his vile deed and resign from his post in the parish. Hopefully then, poor Mrs. Hargreaves could move on.

It wasn"t long before the girls showed up at the back door wanting to know where their father had gone without them. Olive tried to smile but something in her voice alerted her eldest daughter to the fact that something was wrong.

“Mother, what"s the matter?" questioned Eileen, “Have you and father had a row?”

“Don"t be silly dear”, Olive offered, just a little too hastily, “He"s got some business to attend to, and was in a hurry that"s all. Now wash your hands and I"ll get you both a glass of milk.”

Barbara was first to the sink, sensing the prospect of a slice of fresh Victoria sponge, and failed to notice the strain in her mother"s voice. Eileen was much sharper and peered in to her mother"s eyes.

“Why do you look as though you"re going to cry?” she asked quietly, out of her sister"s earshot.

“Don"t be silly, I"ve been peeling onions. I"m making us a chicken stew.”

Eileen wasn"t convinced, after all she saw no evidence that dinner preparations were underway and began to sense that something had happened while she"d been out riding her bicycle in the lane.

“But, how come…”

Olive cut her off in mid-sentence with a finger to the lips. She glanced at Barbara, who was drying her hands on a towel with her back to her mother and sister, and shook her head. The last thing she needed was her youngest daughter running around the houses telling everyone about their vicar"s most inappropriate behaviour. Eileen nodded, a very intuitive girl she sensed that her mother would tell her the full story later, and nudged Barbara out of the way so that she could get to the sink. Minutes later the girls were sitting at the table with milk and cake, discussing whose turn it would be to tell the nightly ghost story that they had got into the habit of imparting. Their mother wandered in to the next room as her children bickered over Barbara"s stories being too far-fetched and Eileen"s being too scary.

Olive stood by the sitting room window, wringing a tea-towel in her hands for what seemed like a lifetime, but it was actually only an hour before Geoff came striding back up the lane, He looked worn out, as if he had suddenly aged by five years and had hit a premature mid-life crisis. Something had happened.

Ushering the girls outside under pretense of needing them to see if the hens had laid any eggs that afternoon, Olive instinctively started to make a pot of tea. She was quite taken aback when her husband announced that he would need something a bit stronger. In all their years of marriage, Olive had only known him drink alcohol at Christmas or on the rare occasion that they"d attended a family funeral.

As Geoff explained his confrontation with the clergyman, Olive"s mouth involuntarily formed an “O”.

It seemed that Mr. Hargreaves had also paid a visit to the vicarage and things had got quite heated, but certainly not in the way that Geoff had expected.

“It turns out that Mrs. Hargreaves and our vicar have been having an affair for a couple of years,” said Geoff solemnly, “In fact she was ready to leave Stan and move in to the vicarage”.

Olive gasped, “Oh poor Mrs. Todd, how on earth would she have coped with that devastating news, and how does that explain Mrs. Hargreaves" accusation this afternoon?”

“Oh you know,” replied Geoff, “A woman scorned and all that. Seems that the Reverend was ready to break it all off and ask for a transfer to another church, so Mrs. Hargreaves wanted to make sure that it could never happen. She wanted him to lose his daughter and his reputation.”

“So, I take it Mrs. Hargreaves has just confessed to her husband and that"s why he went to see the vicar?” asked Olive, now beginning to feel she had a grasp on the situation.

“No, that"s not it at all. You see that"s the damnedest part of it,” Geoff answered, now pulling out a second chair on which to support his legs while he removed his cumbersome boots, “Apparently, Stan Hargreaves was having it away with Cynthia Todd and they were going to do a straight swap!. The only thing he"s peeved about is the fact that the vicar"s scuppered his plans!”

Olive took a huge intake of breath. It was all too much to comprehend. So many questions.

She shook her head. “What happens now then?”

“They reckon they"ll all carry on with their lives as though nothing happened,” grunted Geoff, still in a state of disbelief himself, “Tell you what love, it takes all sorts.”

The secrets in this village just went from senseless to sordid, what on earth would they discover next?