Cast the First Stone Read Free Page A

spiritual matters; not since her teenage days, in fact, when circumstances had caused her to doubt all that she had been taught in Sunday School. Now, though, since her friendship with him had blossomed into love and then marriage, she had come to realize that there was a good deal more to life than the day-to-day routine with its ups and downs. She had found herself starting to believe more fully in this God who meant so much to Simon, and not only because it was her duty as the rector’s wife to do so. She still had a great deal to learn, but with her beloved husband at her side she knew she would be all right.
    Mrs Ethel Bayliss, whom she had soon learnt was one of the bigwigs in the church – the chief bigwig, in fact – had met them at the door and had led them, with a good deal of bowing and scraping, to their places at the table at the end of the church hall; the ‘top table’ she had called it. The assembled crowd – Fiona estimated at a glance that there might be about forty of them – had all clapped and smiled in a very welcoming manner as the rector and his wife took their places.
    â€˜What’s it all in aid of, this tea party?’ Fiona had asked Simon.
    â€˜Oh, it’s just their way of welcoming us back,’ said Simon. ‘You especially, my love, as my new wife. But it’s any excuse for a tea party, if you ask me. We have to humour them. Mrs Bayliss and Mrs Fowler are in their element when they’re organizing church teas.’
    Fiona had met both these ladies soon after she had started attending St Peter’s church. She glanced across at Mrs Bayliss now, deep in conversation with Mrs Fowler, who was seated next to her. Ethel Bayliss was in her mid sixties, Fiona guessed; a large-bosomed woman who moved in a stately manner like a ship in full sail, as though she considered herself to be of some importance. Fiona, in all fairness, had noticed that she always dressed well and in keeping with her age. The navy-blue dress with white spots was stylish but discreet, as was the small white straw hat above her newly permed hair. Ethel – although Fiona would not dream of calling her by her Christian name – was married to Arthur Bayliss, the church warden at St Peter’s, a small unassuming man with a bald head and rimless glasses, whom Fiona rather liked.
    â€˜Yes, Mrs Halliwell’s ginger cake is as delicious as ever,’ Mrs Bayliss was saying, delicately licking her finger and picking up the crumbs that remained on the plate. ‘I think it’s the combination of a small amount of black treacle with the golden syrup that gives it that extra something. I’m just guessing though. She’s very guarded about the recipe.’
    â€˜Yes, so I’ve noticed,’ agreed Mrs Blanche Fowler. ‘I did pluck up courage to ask her for the recipe once, but she was very evasive. Still, we all have our little secrets, haven’t we?’ She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘I must confess I’m the same with my Christmas cake recipe. It’s been handed down through our family for generations.’
    Fiona was fascinated by the bunch of cherries on Mrs Fowler’s straw hat. She assumed that this lady was roughly the same age as Mrs Bayliss, but the two were as different as could be. They were close friends, at least on the surface. Mrs Fowler was tall and slim and walked with a slight stoop. If one was to be unkind she might be described as ‘mutton dressed as lamb’. Her full-skirted nylon dress was boldly patterned with pink and blue flowers that did not really match her headgear. However, Fiona found her not quite as intimidating as her friend, and of the two she much preferred Blanche Fowler. She was the wife of Jonas who was the other church warden. There were always two, known respectively as the rector’s and the people’s warden. Jonas was a large rotund man who was also in charge of the Sunday