© Copyright Oast House Archive and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.
The Reverend Kenneth Bartlett, known to all Tilling as "Padre," sat at his desk in his small office in the Vicarage. He stared at his wife, Evie, who stood in the doorway, holding three boxes, the top box open to reveal another dozen of Scottish shortbread. "That makes seventeen dozens, so far," said Evie, "I'll put most of it aside for treats for the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides."
"Aye," replied the Padre, "And throw out any from Mrs Clarke--roaches everywhere when I went there on my last visit. And you remember the shortbread she gave us last year. . . "
"I remember the shortbread she gave YOU last year--horrible! I'll dispose of it. And Diva sent US two dozen, chocolate-dipped, which I'm saving for our afters," replied Evie.
"Mistress Plaistow's food is always welcome! Such a good friend," said the Padre.
"I've asked her to join us for dinner on Christmas day. Since Elizabeth Mapp married Major Benjy and they became the Mapp-Flints, Diva's been alone on Christmas. She and Miss Mapp used to dine at one another's houses each Christmas."
"Ach, weel, 'tis a kind, Christian thing for you to do," the Padre approvingly replied.
"She wanted to go home after church and come in later, but I know she can't wait to see what Mr Georgie and Lucia sent her for Christmas this year. I told her to bring any gifts with her and we can all enjoy opening our gifts together. Mr Georgie is so generous with us!"
"Indeed, the Pillsons are more kind, Christian souls," replied the Padre, looking at a lovely photograph of his wife by acclaimed photographer Cecil Beaton which sat on his desk; he suspected that Georgie or Lucia Pillson, or both, had a hand in the Vicarage receiving photos of the Padre and his Wee Wifey by Beaton for "free."
The Padre changed the subject, "I wish that more people would send us Scottish salmon or grouse instead of shortbread, but the puir are always wi' us."
To take her husband's mind off this uncharitable train of thought, Evie said, "Well, you and I and Diva will make a party of it, so that will be something nice to look forward to." She was getting tired of standing and holding the boxes of shortbread, so she sat down. "Lucia and Mr Georgie always send such nice presents, it makes coming home after church on Christmas Day such an exciting thing!"
"Menseful, always thinkin' of others, they are," replied the Padre, "Isn't it gettin' on to teatime?"
Evie jumped up, "I'll bring you some of Diva's good shortbread with your tea. She uses real, quality butter in it, you know." She hurried away and the Padre returned to his sermon.
~~~~~~~~~~
Diva shoved the packages and those envelopes from the post that appeared to be Christmas cards into her marketing basket and hurried from her cold house toward the Vicarage. Her birdlike steps made sort work of the High Street, then East Street, then across Church Square. Evie Bartlett opened the door to a happy, smiling Diva, her face reddened by exertion and the weather so that her nose was much the same color as the bit of rose madder worsted in her scarf. After Diva had hung her coat and scarf on a hook in the hallway, Evie led her to the parlour, saying simply, "We're in here."
"Christmas Greetings, Mistress Plaistow!" cried the Padre, "And will you nae have a wee drappie of nog?"
"Your recipe, Padre? Happy to!" replied Diva, for the Padre made the best eggnog in Tilling, his own secret recipe, which he had never committed to paper lest the secret be stolen.
"Ah see you've brought your wee presents wi' ye," said the Padre, nodding at Diva's market basket.
"Yes, and my Christmas cards, too," said Diva.
"Shall we wait or shall we open them now?" asked Evie politely but unnecessarily since all knew the answer.
"You go first," said Diva generously as the Padre handed her a glass of nog.
"Start with cards?" said Evie and Diva nodded. "This is from Grebe, how nice! Robins on ivy, so kind of Elizabeth. And Benjy. Now you, Diva." Evie passed the card to her husband for his inspection. He placed it on the mantlepiece.
"From Grebe. Robins. Ivy. So very Elizabeth. What else?" said Diva
"One from Starling Cottage, smells of Chanel #5, I believe," said Evie, who had never smelled that scent but longed to do so. Since Starling Cottage was the home of Susan Wyse, it was probable that only the most expensive scent was in use. "Oh, look, Kenneth! An nativity triptych."
"Aye, lovely! Verra nice of Mr and Mrs Wyse! From the Cathedral at Cologne," said the Padre, impressing his wife and their guest with his knowledge of art. He passed the card on to Diva.
"Golly! Look at all the gilt! Just like Susan. And a lovely picture," said Diva; she passed the card back to Evie.
"What have you got?" said Evie to Diva.
Diva tore at the envelope. "More scent. More gilt! Mine has the Three Kings. Completely different than yours," Diva held the card up.
"Ach, yes, the Adoration of the Magi," said the Padre wisely.
Evie was grinning. "And you'll never guess what they sent us, Kenneth--grouse! A pair of grouse from the Scottish moors! Just what you wished for."
"Verra kind! God does answer prayer," said the Padre earnestly.
"Me, too!" said Diva, "The Wyses sent me a grouse. I'll hang it and have it cooked after Boxing Day! Too, too kind of the Wyses!" Diva turned her attention to another unopened Christmas card, "Wonder who it's from," she said.
"We've got one, too," said Evie.
"Open them together," suggested the Padre as he refilled the glasses with his delightful eggnog.
The ladies did so. "Merry Christmas from Major Benjy!" exclaimed Evie.
"No! Really?" the Padre nearly snatched the card from his Wee Wifey. "Oh, ho! What a surprise."
"Mine's the same! Guess he wanted to make up for Elizabeth being cheap and sent his own, bless him!" said Diva with her usual directness.
"Indeed, indeed," said the Padre. Then, to steer the conversation away from anything unkind, he said, "There are presents, too?"
"Oh, yes!" said Evie, "You first, Diva!"
So Diva opened the accompanying card first, and the inside read simply, "Diva from Lucia." Diva tore into the package and gasped, "How beautiful!" She held up a string of carved amethyst beads.
The Padre peered at the necklace. "Verra beautiful. Hand carved, 'twould appear," he said approvingly.
"Lovely! Chinese, I shouldn't wonder," said Evie, who was burning to open her package. This time the duplication of the card, marked "Evie from Lucia," was hardly noticed and not remarked upon.
"Don't wait! Open yours!" exclaimed Diva, greedy to see what Evie had received.
"Carnelian! How beautiful! And it matches the earrings you got me, Kenneth!" Evie fingered her necklace, tears rising in her eyes.
Slightly embarrassed but completely understanding, Diva sought to deflect Evie's tears, which seemed imminent. "And we have separate packages from Mr Georgie! Let's open them!"
Every year the two ladies received from Mr Georgie a package, the contents usually related to their shared interest in dress; in the case of Georgie and Diva, it was pure sartorial resplendence that spurred them on, but for Evie, it was the enforced frugality of being a church mouse. One year they received skeins of the softest worsted, the hues beautiful and appropriate to each lady's colouring. Evie's package also included various ecclesiastically-appropriate hues for the Padre. One year each had received a package of the finest thread for sewing, in a variety of colours. Another year, it had been a sewing kit with pins and scissors and measuring tapes and French curves. Last year each had received a variety of buttons in onyx and bone and carved stones--in fact, Diva and Evie recalled that there were carved buttons, of amethyst and of carnelian--Lucia had coordinated her gift this year to match that of Mr Georgie's last year!
"Kenneth has one, too," observed Evie, "Let him go first this time. It's very heavy."
The Padre cut the ribbon that held the wrapping paper carefully--he was maddeningly slow at opening gifts so that he could retain and reuse the paper and ribbons. But today his slowness allowed his wife and their friend a chance to examine their new beads.
Three copes, one white, one red, and one green were in the box, embroidered with much skill (and much gold-work) by Mr Georgie's own hand were the Pillson's gift to the church. Four new white shirts and a dozen collars were the Pillson's gift to the Padre. The Padre said nothing, but his eyes were gleaming.
Evie reached out a finger and stroked the gold embroidery, "So kind, so very, very beautiful," she said softly.
"He must have been working on them all year," said Diva.
The Padre nodded.
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Evie reached out a finger and stroked the gold embroidery, "So kind, so very, very beautiful," she said softly.
"He must have been working on them all year," said Diva.
The Padre nodded.
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"And new shirts and collars!" prompted Evie.
The Padre recovered himself. "Aye, and I've been needing new collars, too! As you say, So Kind! Ah'll have to spend a wee hour composing a kind thank ye note to Mr and Mrs Pillson."
The Padre recovered himself. "Aye, and I've been needing new collars, too! As you say, So Kind! Ah'll have to spend a wee hour composing a kind thank ye note to Mr and Mrs Pillson."
"I will, too," said Diva, who rarely wrote more than a shopping list.
The Padre said, "Last year they sent a dozen pair of the nicest black stockings for me; Ah detect Mr Pillson's fine hand in it, and ah canna complain, for he chooses only the best. Now, let us see what you ladies will be thankin' them for!" and Diva and Evie tore into their gifts.
"Shawl," said Diva. And such shawls they were, made of the softest wool. Diva had one of black edged with crimson lake.
Evie had one of a silvery-grey paisley design. The Padre gently touched the fabric. "So verra soft. Some exotic wool, I shouldn't wonder," he said. Evie rubbed the softness against her cheek.
Daisy, the Vicarage's maid, announced dinner. The Padre, Evie, and Diva sighed as one and went to fill themselves. The Padre said grace:
"On this, the Day of Our Saviour's Birth,
We thank thee, O Lord, for your gracious bounty.
We thank thee, O Lord, for the gift of kind friends.
We thank thee, O Lord, for the gift of generous friends,
Knowing that we are and will eternally be cared for
By Your Grace and in Your Wisdom. Amen."
"Amen," Evie and Diva echoed.
"And a Happy Christmas to us all!" said the Padre, raising his glass in a toast.
"Happy Christmas to all!" echoed Evie and Diva merrily.
In such an informal setting, amongst old friends, the subject of the recently-received gifts was part of the dinner conversation. Had Mr Wyse been present, such a conversation would have been too vulgar for the dinner table; had Elizabeth Mapp-Flint been present, the tone of the conversation would have been turned from gratitude to disparagement. As is usual with Tilling, a burning curiosity about their friends and neighbors formed the basis of all conversation.
"I wonder," began the Padre, "If our friends give gifts to our mutual friends other than us." This was spoken in plain English, as the Padre's usual vernacular of Elizabethan English and spurious Scottish did not extend very far, although he worked at adding a new word or phrase to his vocabulary each week. As it was, both Diva and Evie had to puzzle over his words before they realized that the Padre was asking if the Mapp-Flints had been left out of the gift giving. Would serve them right if they were, thought Diva.
"I think Lucia still gives Major Benjy half a case of pre-war whisky," said Diva.
"No!" said the Padre and Wee Wifey as one.
"Yesterday they had tea in my Tea House. Major Benjy was their only guest. Just tea, no bridge. Then they all got into Lucia car and left. A few minutes later, the car came back along the High Street, but going in the opposite direction." Diva had paid assiduous attention to the wants and needs of her customers seated closest to the front windows so that she could observe the street after her friends left; those customers unlucky enough to be seated against the inside wall were left to languish, their tea going cold and no offer from Diva to "warm the pot."
"No!" said the Padre, wildly interested.
"Elizabeth had an appointment with the dentist yesterday afternoon," observed Evie.
"Really!?" said Diva, "I did wonder. No reservations, which is unusual. They met, ate and drank quickly, and left quickly, too. Must have been giving him the booze and making sure he got back to Grebe with it before Elizabeth was done with the dentist. Odd, though, Elizabeth always talks about how wonderful her teeth are and how rarely she has to see the dentist."
"I saw her in Church Square and called out, but she hurried off," said Evie.
© Copyright Oast House Archive and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.
"Strange," said Diva.
"Not really. Most people don't seem to notice when I call to them, and if they do, they think I'm going to ask for a donation. So a lot of people hurry off, or hurry on, when Kenneth or I are around."
The Padre sighed and shook his head, "'Tis a verra sad thing to see, in truth."
Evie continued the conversation. "I wonder if they send Elizabeth anything."
"As far as I know, nothing since their first Christmas here, when they sent her that wonderful paté," said Diva.
"She complained to me that it was grainy," said Evie.
"Nonsense. We both ate some at our Christmas dinner at Mallards that day. It was delicious," replied Diva. "And expensive. Grainy!"--here Diva gave a short snort--"Such ingratitude!"
"And at Christmas," added Evie.
"Weel, we all know how Mistress Mapp-Flint is," began the Padre.
"Yes," said Evie firmly, "She's our burden to bear."
"Not exactly what I was going to day, m'dear," replied the Padre.
"But accurate," said Diva.
In such an informal setting, amongst old friends, the subject of the recently-received gifts was part of the dinner conversation. Had Mr Wyse been present, such a conversation would have been too vulgar for the dinner table; had Elizabeth Mapp-Flint been present, the tone of the conversation would have been turned from gratitude to disparagement. As is usual with Tilling, a burning curiosity about their friends and neighbors formed the basis of all conversation.
"I wonder," began the Padre, "If our friends give gifts to our mutual friends other than us." This was spoken in plain English, as the Padre's usual vernacular of Elizabethan English and spurious Scottish did not extend very far, although he worked at adding a new word or phrase to his vocabulary each week. As it was, both Diva and Evie had to puzzle over his words before they realized that the Padre was asking if the Mapp-Flints had been left out of the gift giving. Would serve them right if they were, thought Diva.
"I think Lucia still gives Major Benjy half a case of pre-war whisky," said Diva.
"No!" said the Padre and Wee Wifey as one.
"Yesterday they had tea in my Tea House. Major Benjy was their only guest. Just tea, no bridge. Then they all got into Lucia car and left. A few minutes later, the car came back along the High Street, but going in the opposite direction." Diva had paid assiduous attention to the wants and needs of her customers seated closest to the front windows so that she could observe the street after her friends left; those customers unlucky enough to be seated against the inside wall were left to languish, their tea going cold and no offer from Diva to "warm the pot."
"No!" said the Padre, wildly interested.
"Elizabeth had an appointment with the dentist yesterday afternoon," observed Evie.
"Really!?" said Diva, "I did wonder. No reservations, which is unusual. They met, ate and drank quickly, and left quickly, too. Must have been giving him the booze and making sure he got back to Grebe with it before Elizabeth was done with the dentist. Odd, though, Elizabeth always talks about how wonderful her teeth are and how rarely she has to see the dentist."
"I saw her in Church Square and called out, but she hurried off," said Evie.
© Copyright Oast House Archive and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.
"Strange," said Diva.
"Not really. Most people don't seem to notice when I call to them, and if they do, they think I'm going to ask for a donation. So a lot of people hurry off, or hurry on, when Kenneth or I are around."
The Padre sighed and shook his head, "'Tis a verra sad thing to see, in truth."
Evie continued the conversation. "I wonder if they send Elizabeth anything."
"As far as I know, nothing since their first Christmas here, when they sent her that wonderful paté," said Diva.
"She complained to me that it was grainy," said Evie.
"Nonsense. We both ate some at our Christmas dinner at Mallards that day. It was delicious," replied Diva. "And expensive. Grainy!"--here Diva gave a short snort--"Such ingratitude!"
"And at Christmas," added Evie.
"Weel, we all know how Mistress Mapp-Flint is," began the Padre.
"Yes," said Evie firmly, "She's our burden to bear."
"Not exactly what I was going to day, m'dear," replied the Padre.
"But accurate," said Diva.
