The Newcomer

‘He’ll do a good job. Don’t worry,’ Queenie reassured Mamie.

‘I’m sure he will.’ Mamie looked around at the shelves in the shop and took in the time warp of goods on offer. Blakey’s heel studs. Bra strap extenders. An impressive news stand laden with gossip magazines. Faded stationery items. Tinned mandarins, frankfurters and processed peas. A vast display of cigarettes, vapes and pipe tobacco. Cheap plastic dolls and boxes, small and large, of jigsaw puzzles. Mamie twirled on the spot to take it all in. ‘This isn’t a village store,’ she breathed in admiration. ‘This is an emporium.’

‘Oh, yes, me duck, it is that. I can send a parcel to Peru from me post office counter and feed you a homemade pasty, all in the same five minutes.’ Queenie moved a tatty lamp with a pink-fringed shade out of the way and took herself behind her ancient wooden counter. ‘So, how can I help you?’

Mamie pointed a fiery red fingernail at a jar of red sweets. ‘May I have a quarter of the aniseed twists, please?’

Silently Queenie weighed her up. She recognised something in the woman in front of her, one gossip to another. ‘What have you really come for?’

Mamie held her hands up in surrender. ‘I’m new and want to know the ins and outs of the village.’

‘Take a seat.’ Queenie pointed at Simple Tony’s empty chair. ‘I’ll put a pot of tea on.’

‘Coffee, love?’ Robert nudged the office door open with his elbow. Angela had filled all the bookshelves but the very top one, and was now balanced on a chair with several hardbacks in her hands. ‘Let me do that,’ he said.

She reached up on tiptoes but still couldn’t quite reach. ‘Couldn’t find the stepladders.’

Robert put the mugs down on the desk. ‘Come down. I’ll do it.’ He put his hands on her waist and effortlessly lifted her to the floor. ‘Drink your coffee.’

‘Thank you.’

She sat and watched as he pushed the books into their new home. ‘Any more?’

She shook her head. ‘Done.’ She sipped her coffee and put a foot on his lap as he pulled the chair he’d been standing on closer and sat down.

He rubbed it gently. ‘Where’s Faith?’

‘In her room grumbling about the Wi-Fi. Has the Sky TV man fixed the telly?’

‘Oh, yes. My fifty-four-inch pride and joy is now receiving all the favourites and Love Island.’

‘Couldn’t we lose that one?’

‘And lose Faith too?’

‘Life would be quieter …’

He nodded. ‘And cheaper.’

They quietly acknowledged this truth.

Robert broke the silence. ‘Nice view of the village green from here.’

‘Mr Worthington likes it.’

‘Where is he?’

‘On Faith’s bed.’

‘I thought we said no …’

‘We did but he persuaded me she needed him.’

‘You’re too soft.’ He stopped rubbing her foot. ‘Other one.’ She swapped. ‘That’s why I love you,’ he said. ‘I love all of you. Even your cheesy feet.’

She smiled. ‘I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way. Uprooting yourself, and Faith, to support me.’

‘I am a saint.’

‘You are!’

‘Is there a Saint Robert?’

‘Yes. I’m looking at him.’ She drained her coffee and took her foot back. ‘How many more boxes have we got left to empty?’

‘The last few are in the sitting room. Only my books. I thought I’d put them on the shelves by the fireplace?’

‘I’ll help you and then we could take Mr W for a walk?’

There was a sharp knock on the front door. ‘And so it begins.’ Robert stretched his arms above his head. ‘A parishioner. I’ll bet a fiver.’ There was a second impatient knock. ‘Definitely a parishioner. I’m off to hide in the sitting room.’

On her own, Angela opened the front door.

Audrey Tipton pushed her way over the threshold. ‘Ah, Angela. I must talk to you.’

Angela was zipping through her mental Rolodex, trying desperately to remember the woman’s name. She finally got to it. ‘It’s Audrey, isn’t it? Do come into my study.’

Back in the village store, Queenie was rolling a cigarette. ‘And that’s his story.’

‘So he doesn’t mind being called Simple Tony? Only it’s very un-PC.’

‘It’s what his mum and dad called him and he’s happy. But don’t think he’s stupid. Far from it. Innocent. Trusting. Kind. But not stupid. He has his odd little ways but, by God, half the gardens in this village, let alone the churchyard, would be in a terrible state if it weren’t for him.’

‘And he looks after himself?’

‘Oh, yes. He has a little shepherd’s hut in Polly’s garden. She’s at Candle Cottage. Ambulance paramedic and white witch. Lovely woman. She keeps an eye on him. And next door to her is Helen. Londoner, like me. Came down a few years ago after her husband had done one too many naughties.’ She cocked an eye at Mamie. ‘You get my drift?’

‘I do.’

‘Well, she’s going out with Piran. Lovely bloke. Kind as they come.’

‘I’ve met them.’ Mamie pulled a face. ‘He pulled me out of the sea yesterday. I fell in.’

‘Did you?’ Queenie was all ears. ‘How’d you manage that?’

‘A dog. A stick. A big wave.’

‘Oh my Gawd. I bet Piran weren’t too happy about that.’