Free 05 Please Sir! by Jack Sheffield Page B

I’ll tell you: it’s a—’
    ‘No, don’t tell me,’ said Jemima forcibly. ‘I can’t decide whether it’s a Rhode Island Red or not. It’s jus’ that the picture isn’t very clear.’
    Bishop Neil chuckled and reminded himself not to jump to conclusions.
    * * *
     
    The Harvest Festival was memorable and Vera sighed in contentment. Parents and villagers had crowded into the school hall and no one could recall a finer display of produce, flanked by home-baked, plaited bread and sheaves of barley. The Revd Joseph Evans led the service of thanksgiving beautifully and he confirmed that God’s bounty would be taken to the village hall after school and distributed tomorrow to those in greatest need.
    Then the bishop, in a wonderfully clear voice, read from Deuteronomy, chapter twenty-four, verse nineteen: ‘ When you reap your harvest in your field and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it; it shall be left for the alien, the orphan, and the widow so that the Lord your God may bless you in all your undertakings .’
    After that, he led us in a final prayer and blessed the school and the congregation with the sign of the cross. The school bell rang out to announce the end of a successful day and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
    In the school entrance hall, Bishop Neil was generous in his praise. ‘Thank you, everyone, for a delightful visit. You have a wonderful school and very well-behaved pupils.’
    Anne looked to the heavens and then caught my eye. I knew what she was thinking: we had survived.
    Meanwhile, Vera, looking greatly relieved that everything had gone to plan and without mishap, was anxious to get back to the vicarage. ‘Joseph, perhaps you could follow on with the bishop,’ she said, ‘and I’ll go on ahead to prepare tea.’
    ‘Certainly,’ said Joseph and Vera hurried out to the car park, jumped in her Austin A40 and tore off up Morton Road.
    It had felt like a royal visit and we all solemnly shook hands until, finally, Joseph and the bishop walked out to the smart white estate car. As they drove down the drive the bishop glanced back at the school and for the briefest heart-stopping moment he thought he saw a naked blonde woman pressing her ample bosom against the windowpane. He blinked quickly and readjusted his spectacles. ‘I really must check my prescription,’ he said to himself.
    In the quiet nave of St Mary’s Church, Bishop Neil was full of enthusiasm. ‘Very well done, Joseph, on having such a thriving church community, and, Vera, what can I say? The flowers are exquisite – such style and understated artistry! Congratulations.’ Vera smiled shyly; everything was going well.
    Tea in the vicarage exceeded all of Vera’s expectations. The Victoria sponge was, according to the bishop, the finest he had ever tasted and, at last, it was time to leave. Vera glanced at the clock. ‘It’s my Women’s Institute meeting this evening, Bishop, so I need to go back to the village hall.’
    ‘Perhaps I could give you a lift,’ he said. ‘It’s on my way.’
    It occurred to Vera that she would look very grand pulling up outside the village hall in this smart car with the bishop. Also, she could get a lift home with Joyce Davenport and relate the events of her perfect day. ‘Thank you, Bishop. That would be so kind,’ she said. Then she picked up her sketch pad from the hall table and put two sharpened pencils in her handbag. ‘We’re doing a little sketching this evening.’
    ‘How delightful,’ said Bishop Neil. ‘Actually … I dabble as well.’
    Vera was delighted with the impression she created when they arrived on Ragley High Street. Darkness had fallen and the lights shone brightly at the windows of the village hall.
    ‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ said Bishop Neil.
    ‘Thank you, Bishop,’ said Vera.
    As they arrived at the entrance they could see a group of ladies busy sketching in the hall and another group standing in the back corner,