A Cheat and a Liar, page 38
The topic of conversation then reverted back to who gave what and what came from whom until Nettie said, ‘Mother, having just arrived back in town, how about we have supper here, and then if Daddy doesn’t mind driving us, we will disappear to our home for our first night. Oh, how exciting!’
So that is how the day concluded. After supper, Edward did as his daughter had asked and drove them home.
The next morning, George drove Nettie into town so she could purchase groceries, while he returned to the Nichols’ home to pack up presents, put some in boxes, and once the truck was full, he collected Nettie again on his way back to the cottage. The first load was hurriedly put inside the house and then back to collect more until Helen and Edward were free of what was not theirs. It was almost noon. George felt he should spend the afternoon at the mill, and Nettie decided a Tuesday start was soon enough.
The first week back was one of light turmoil for the newlyweds. On the work front, they were both needed at the mill; Nettie for book and paperwork that required immediate processing and filing, and George, of course, was in charge of filling orders for finishing timbers, ensuring sufficient were processed to meet existing orders and ample supplies of logs arrived from which he would select the most suitable.
On the home front, wedding gifts lay on the floor of the living room, still contained within their wrapping papers and boxes, waiting for a suitable storage place or site for their display. By the end of the week, George had determined their need to find a china cabinet for much of the quality and fragile items and a closed cupboard for more mundane and day-to-day items. By the following Monday, he told Nettie he would make what they needed. ‘You are so clever, George. I think if you are able, the closed cupboard may be the most necessary, and if you can, that should probably be the first made. We can pack the crystal and fragile items in a box or two until we have a place for them to display between uses.’
Living together was also taking Nettie longer to adapt to than George. It was a different environment; her mother was not there to chat to or ask advice. She was in charge of her own domain. She could shift furniture about and put things like cushions and ornament and pictures where she wanted and when. Several times already, George had arrived home and commented that an item that had been moved or changed looked better than when he had lived alone.
Then there were the evenings. For George, he had someone to talk to after he arrived home; someone to make or help him make decisions. Then there was their married life. He, on the one hand, knew what it was like to live with a woman, not that Nettie had asked too much about his previous life. George was relaxed but realised Nettie may need consideration. She, on the other hand, was feeling awkward. She did not feel relaxed as yet in dressing, and particularly undressing if George was around. If she was in the bedroom in a state of semi-dress and George unwittingly walked in, she would instantly clutch her arms across her chest and say, ‘Oh, George!’ in a semi-alarmed way and turn her back on him. He would walk up to her slowly, hold out his hands, and wrap them around her, kiss her, and squeeze her with words of comfort. ‘It’s fine,’ he would say. ‘I am not going to harm you. It is only your husband.’
Nettie would smile, apologise, and say something like, ‘I know, George, but this part of life is quite different for me.’ They would stand in a clinch, and then he would let her go.
In bed, it was even more scary for her—someone in her bed. In the beginning, on the honeymoon, she would have just dropped off to sleep, and George might have suddenly moved his leg, and she would wake, sit upright, and then realise where she was and lie back down again. She wasn’t too sure either about this act that George called ‘making love’. Of course, she knew that wedded couples, and newly wedded couples in particular, made love, but it was a foreign activity for her. George had been very loving and gentle on their honeymoon and also since they were home. She thought back to when she was in her teens, and she had imagined how wonderful it must be to fall in love and make love. She knew that some of her class at school had made love back in those days without falling in love first, and she had decided that it was in her Christian upbringing that she would only one day allow herself to make love with the man she married.
So there was much getting to know each other, particularly from Nettie’s side. But she was in love and knew that every aspect of her life could only get better.
Generally, Nettie organised the meals. She was up first in the mornings. She would bathe and use the bathroom and then start to prepare their breakfast. George would rise once Nettie was in the kitchen, wash himself, and then return to the bedroom to make the bed before dressing and wandering out to eat the breakfast that had been prepared.
The following Saturday morning, Nettie and George, and Helen and Edward had arranged to meet at 11.00 a.m. at the section the latter couple had gifted to the newly-weds.
Nettie and George were first to arrive. She remembered seeing it three or four years previously with her parents but never really understood the point of the visit. She didn’t recall her parents mentioning what they might do with the land, and since that time, no mention of building on it or even selling it had ever been mentioned. Then she said that if someone had asked if her father owned a section, her answer, even the day before he mentioned gifting it to them, would have been that he owned no such thing. It was a surprise when her father said he was gifting it to them as a present for their wedding, she said to George.
Then the Nichols arrived. ‘What do you think?’ asked Edward.
‘I think it is great. Nice outlook, good sun, quite private, slightly elevated; I am impressed,’ said George.
‘What do you think, love?’ Edward asked of his daughter.
‘Well, I always wondered how anyone judged a bare piece of land,’ she replied, ‘but listening to George reel off its attributes, I guess it must be pretty good. Now, if it was a house, I could say attractive, in good repair, spacious or small, or whatever the case might be, but I would not have thought about elevation, privacy, or sun. That’s probably why I am an office worker and George is a builder.’ They all laughed and made various comments.
There was a rough post and wire fence around it, and George asked Edward if that was along or close to the true boundary. ‘I think it is, George’ was the reply. ‘I have a copy of the title at home, and that will show measurements, so you might need to check that out before you decide to build, if that is in fact what you plan to do.’
‘I am pretty sure that is what I will do as long as my good wife agrees. We just have to settle into life where we are and then look to progress from there.’
Edward, Nettie, and George had walked over much of the land, but Helen had only followed her husband for a very short distance from the road and then stopped and watched as the others walked further. She outwardly appeared very healthy but inwardly, it seemed, often suffered from a shortness of breath and breathed heavily if she needed to walk very far, making her tired and sore and often causing her to cough. She was sitting in the car by the time everyone arrived back. ‘What did you think, love?’ she asked Nettie.
‘Oh, it is great, Mother. George seems to like it a lot and seems impressed with its sun, privacy, and elevation.’
‘Oh goodness me,’ her mother replied, ‘you sound like the consummate professional, Nettie’ was the reply.
‘No, my thoughts were how lucky we are to have the opportunity to build the home of our choice. It was George who admired the features, and he seems keen to build on it for us at some stage.’
‘That’s lovely, dear. That’s what your father said he was hoping might happen.’
Then it was back to the Nichols’ home for something to eat.
The following day, everyone was off to church, and, as usual, groups of friends and various families gathered outside before the service began. Soon, everyone was inside and seated. Children who had earlier attended Sunday school for the youngest of them, and bible class for the pre-teens and older, filed in and took up their usual seats at the front. The service, the sermon, and all the parts of the morning proceeded as normal, and as they afterwards moved back to the entrance, where they returned their hymn books, most folk picked up a copy of the monthly newsletter that the reverend produced and which kept parishioners informed not only of church matters but also of events happening in the town that some people might like to support. Both ladies took a copy to read when they had time later.
Then back to the Nichols for a midday meal—again. While the four of them were seated, Nettie said to her mother, ‘This is going to change.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Helen.
‘Well, George and I always come here and eat your food. From now on, we will alternate; like next week, lunch is at our place, and we will be back here in a fortnight.’ George agreed, and in the end, everyone agreed.
During the week, Nettie and George were relaxing after supper. George had made a hot drink for them both and, after reading all he wanted in the newspaper, picked up the church newsletter that Nettie had brought home after the service on Sunday. He read that the reverend was looking to have a short break and would require someone to stand in for him for one Sunday. There was a retired minister in the town, but he was experiencing poor health on more and more occasions, and as the newsletter explained, it would be good if someone knew of a reliable man to act, and only if the reverend and that person were both unavailable would the retired reverend Prince need to be asked.
‘Did you see they are trying to find a relief minister to fill in when Reverend Thompson is away, love?’ George asked Nettie.
‘Yes, I did,’ she replied. ‘Don’t know where they will find someone around here.’
There was a short silence, and then he said quietly, ‘I might know of someone.’
‘Who?’ she asked.
There was a slightly longer silence, and then he said, ‘Me.’
Nettie looked up at him in surprise. ‘You? Do you think you could do it?’
‘Yep, I know I could,’ he replied.
‘How do you know you could? Have you ever done it before?’
There was another longer pause, and then he said, ‘Yes. In a past life, I was an acting minister, or lay preacher, as it was called.’
Nettie got up out of her seat and quickly came across to him, put her arms around his neck, and said, ‘My darling George, you never cease to amaze me. I have been scared to ask you anything about your past because I was scared you would horror me with stories of wine, women, and song; of debauchery, scantily clad women drinking way into the night whilst sitting on drunken men’s knees or following them to bed, and now you tell me you were a part-time man of the cloth. Goodness gracious me. I am amazed!’
George smiled. ‘Never hesitate to ask me anything about my past, my love. My life, if written into a book, would be so boring. Until I met you, I was convinced that I would never marry or even meet a nice lady. You are my first true love.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘can I tell Mother?’
‘Of course, you can,’ he replied. ‘I don’t mind others knowing in due course, if I got the job, that I have been a lay preacher, but don’t say too much. If I do end up being the stand-in cleric, tell them that I have done so in the past, but we don’t like to broadcast it about.’
‘Oh, wow,’ she said, and they stood up and readied themselves for bed.
The next day at work, she thought about what George had told her and, for the first time since her marriage, wished that she would be going to her parents’ home after work; simply so she could inform her mother of George’s surprise revelation.
The following Sunday, during the service, the time arrived when the reverend announced notices. The births of babies, the illness of a parishioner, the meetings that were to be held in the forthcoming week, and anything that the congregation might wish to know were announced to all who were present. That morning, just as he finished announcing the usual notices, he paused and then said that he would be grateful to anyone who could put him in contact with a suitable replacement as set out in the last newsletter to receive the name of anyone competent in conducting the Sunday service in his absence. He reminded those present, again, that the retired reverend Prince was not in good health, and he had expressed a request to be relieved of church duties. He was to conduct the service next week, but that would conclude his commitment to the parish. He then briefly touched on a lovely suggestion by vestry members, who were planning a farewell evening and presentation to the gentleman in the next few weeks.
After the service, Nettie whispered to George, ‘Why don’t you tell the reverend that you can replace Mr Prince?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Let the gentleman have his moment in the sun and receive all the plaudits and thanks from everyone for all the good things he has done, and then in the days and weeks to come, when there is a call for someone, I will answer it.’
‘George, you are so methodical. That is probably why you followed the Methodist faith. That’s fine.’
As was the usual, lunch was at the Nichols’ home, and it was Edward that suddenly said, ‘George, if nobody else comes forward, I understand you may be the man in our pulpit.’
‘Yes, sir’ was the reply, ‘but I would rather nobody mentioned it outside this house. Mr Prince, I understand, is held in high regard, and it is a pity that he has probably offered his services a little longer than may have been prudent. Once he has informed everybody that he no longer wishes to conduct services, then, if nobody else is available, willing, or able, I think I can certainly help out on the odd occasion.’
‘So have you done much of that in the past?’
‘Not a lot, but, again, through sickness and in health, I just filled a temporary gap.’
‘And where was that, George, in England?’
‘Hmm,’ George mumbled with an intentionally filled mouth. He nodded, swallowed, and then added. ‘We’ll just wait and see.’
Everyone, returned home; everyone went to work that week, and the next weekend rolled round seemingly quicker than usual, as often happens when folk have a lot to do and keep themselves busy.
Saturday arrived, and George drove into town to purchase varnish. He had at long last finished what he called his china cabinet, which did seem to be a rather stupid name as the piece was designed and made to accommodate the finest of not only china but also more especially crystal. There were, crystal jugs and sugar bowls and water jugs and salad serving bowls and much, much more, a fine china tea set, with cake plates—all gifts received at their wedding. He had made an exacting job of it and knew that once the first coat of varnish was applied that the woodwork would come alive. He warned Nettie that all doors and windows need to be left open for as long as possible as the pungent smell of varnish would otherwise drive them outside.
The next day was Sunday, and church, of course. The two ladies had kept to their promise of two weeks ago, and it was Nettie’s turn to host her mother and father to lunch. She had risen a little earlier than was usual for her on a Sunday and had scones in the oven, which would be ready for everyone by one o’clock.
It was the same routine every Sunday. Folk met family and friends just before eleven o’clock, talked for a few minutes, and then moved into the church. The Reverend Prince had not arrived, but that was not unusual. There were hushed conversations in the pews, and the children at the front were becoming a little restless. George looked at his watch, swallowed, leant towards Nettie, and whispered, ‘Best I do something now.’ She briefly had time to put her hand on his as he stood up and walked down the aisle towards the pulpit.
He turned and faced the congregation, looked up, and announced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to our service this morning. As we all know, our Reverend Thompson is out of town, and we were expecting his replacement here this morning. We know also that Reverend Prince, who has officiated in the past, has of late suffered poor health, and perhaps that is why he is not with us as yet. Last week’s newsletter requested expressions of interest from anyone who may know of a person prepared to cover any vacancy when Mr Thompson cannot be here. Please let me guide us through the service today.’
He then said, ‘Let us pray.’ The prayer was a wonderful start. George asked for guidance during the morning in conducting the service. He prayed that Mr Prince, if unwell, would soon be recovered. He thanked him for the many past occasions when he had led the service and a short sentence later said, ‘Amen.’ George then glanced at the organist and the board on the wall behind her and said, ‘Can we please all be upstanding and sing together Hymn No.76,’ and the organ flew into life, the congregation all stood, and the church was filled with song. Then George turned to the children and addressed them. It was like he had done it for years, and he spoke to them meaningfully. He said, ‘The hymn that I am going to ask Mrs Sutherland to play in a few minutes, for you to all sing to, is about how important Jesus thought children were,’ and George continued to tell them about a group of mothers who brought their kids to meet Jesus. The disciples, it seemed, were angry because Jesus had come to talk to adults, not children. As the kids were chased away, Jesus stopped them and said in a nice gentle voice, ‘No, no, no, I have come to talk to you.’ George rounded the story off, and most children were smiling, so he said, ‘So now, I am not sure what Mrs Sutherland had planned for you to sing, but I’m going to ask her to play “When Mothers of Salem”. Please let us all be upstanding.’ The organist obviously knew which page the subject hymn was on, and everyone sang. George wasn’t sure whether everyone was putting more into their vocals, or it may simply have been because he was in the pulpit facing everyone, but it was sung with enthusiasm.
It was 11.30 a.m. As everyone sat down, George said quietly, ‘Let us pray,’ and as the children were about to leave the service at that time, the prayer was for them, asking for the Lord to protect and guide them through the following week. As it finished, the organ started to play again, and the children filed out of the church. George continued, conscious of the time, or rather the late start of the service. He had decided to contemplate a sermon was out of the question; that deserved thought and study over several hours and could be something he would tackle the next time he was to be called upon. Today, he would keep it simple. He would randomly open the Bible and quote an Old Testament reading. Mrs Sutherland had two more hymns on the board, so one could be sung straight after that reading, and then they would sing again to finish.
