‘Well—’
Hetty hadn’t really been sure what to say next, so was relieved to find she didn’t need to.
‘Are you one of the mums? From the primary? I didn’t think it was that time of year yet.’
Hetty blinked in confusion, but the lady just smiled and placed the bible into her hands.
‘No, I suppose you’re not, or there’d be other parents, too. They only visit to get their kids into St Leonard’s Primary, but the vicar sees right through them. Well, anyway, welcome, take a seat. Here, Horace, how’s the hip?’
And with that the woman was greeting the elderlygentleman who’d arrived behind her. Hetty took a deep breath and slipped into a pew at the back.
She’d hoped to zone out slightly, to think about things, but the sermon was even more confusing than her welcome had been. The vicar seemed to be even younger than she was – perhaps this wasn’t unusual here, but the pastor who occasionally called at the chapel on the Bainbridge Estate had been, according to Charlie at least, ‘older than the sun’.
This wasn’t a pointed sermon on the lurking demons within or on the dangers of failing to fulfil feminine duty. Not today, anyway. Instead, the young man at the pulpit had greeted them with outspread hands and the words: ‘As the youth would say … come and roll with Jesus!’
Hetty’s heart had curdled in her chest in second-hand embarrassment as the vicar had counselled them through the terrible dangers of items she had never heard of before. By the time the rest of the single-digit congregation rose and headed to the ring of flimsy chairs in the vestry, she had learned to strictly avoid such temptations as ‘Meow-meow’ and ‘Special K’. She also vaguely missed Charlie, despite having been lectured on the need to abandon him at all costs.
She was trying to work out where the most likely source of inner peace was to be found – staring at the carvings in the ceiling beams, or at the figure of Christ looking all too happy to be on the cross – when she was presented with a cup of tea by the woman who’d welcomed her earlier.
‘Here you are. I wasn’t sure how many sugars you’d want, so I only added three. Do come and have a chat, won’t you? We’d love to tell you what the vicar has lined up for us this month.’
They both gazed over to the vicar, who was dancing very strangely for a smiling young man with a mobile phone.
‘Oh, look at our Andy. He’s ever so into his TikToks, he really is.’
‘Andy?’
‘Reverend Dickens, I should say, but he does insist on being called Andy. Great service, Reverend! I see you’re at the TikToks again today!’
Reverend Dickens was sashaying their way in a manner that alarmed Hetty. This was no Pastor Simmons, that was a certainty.
‘I am indeed, Delilah. And who’s this new addition?’
They were both now studying Hetty so intently she could barely remember her own name.
‘Um, Hetty. I’m Hetty Ba— sorry, Moore.’
‘Well then, Hetty, why don’t you come and join our prayer circle? We’re always looking for more young, energetic people. Today we collectively dedicate ourselves to inner peace and healing.’
Hetty wasn’t sure how to put her thoughts into words. ‘Isn’t that a bit … heathen?’
The whole group was staring at her now. The vicar paused, clearly unsure where to take this unexpected conversation, then appeared to find a straw to grasp.
‘Well, what are we all if not essentially, in our bones, heathen?’
Hetty realised her eyes were so wide with surprise they’d gone dry, and blinked. It suddenly all seemed too absurd that she’d come here to these eager strangers for spiritual guidance when it was right there waiting at home with those who cared for her.
She bid the vicar a polite goodbye. Time to take the advice she’d already been given. Time to try the medication.
Chapter 16
1817
London Sundays were an even bigger chore than Sundays in the countryside had been. At their local village church, Etta had been able to hide in what was essentially a little wooden cubicle for her family, with only servants, a few local gentry and assorted farmers to stare at her. It had been nice – peaceful, reflective, even. But in London, church was an Event.
Of course, a church could hardly ever be a loud place, but Etta had felt a new, unnerving level of quiet sweep over the pews as she walked down the aisle with her mother. Bessie peeled off behind them to sit at the back, leaving Etta facing as many eyes as she’d expect at her own wedding. The eyes were not admiring, though. She caught looks of wonder, disdain and disapproval from the immaculately dressed ladies and gentlemen in the chapel, whispers spreading like wildfire as they worked out who she was.
News of Mad Hetty Bainbridge coming to town had circulated amongst the neighbours. Everyone probably knew by now, Etta thought. And this was probably representativeof the reception she could expect during her morning visits and all the parties her mother had threatened her with.
