‘Richard the Vicar. Sounds rather noble, doesn’t it?’ he said noticing her posture. ‘Bit like Richard the Third. Not, of course, that he was terribly noble. Quite the contrary. Rather ignoble. The princes in the tower and all that.’ He beamed again and Ella couldn’t help smiling back at him, not quite as happily. She noticed Devon smile too. Maybe the vicar was a spiritual miracle worker – he’d already lightened the atmosphere. In his checked shirt and sensibly styled jeans he reminded her of a rather beatific country singer, John Denver’s younger brother.An image popped into her head. Startled, she sat wide-eyed for a moment. Then she grabbed her handbag.
‘Sorry, I digress. Nice to meet you both. I’m sincerely hoping that one of you knows one end of a dart from the other, metaphorically speaking. Because of course it’s quite obvious. The sharp pointy end . . . you know.’
He mimed throwing a dart as Ella finally managed to pull a pencil out of her bag. A beer mat would have to do. With sudden energy, she peeled away the top layer of the beer mat, leaving the blank card beneath and rapidly sketched. Excitement fizzed and popped in her system as an angelic-looking mouse complete with wings and a halo took shape. With a breathless, ‘Oh’, she stared down. Englebert. It was Englebert. She hadn’t been able to get a feel for his character for weeks. He didn’t get much of a look-in. Always the quiet, serious one. With the pencil she shaded his eyes and added a blissful smile to his little mouth.
‘Very nice to meet you, Ella. I hear you’ll be doing the flowers for the church one weekend.’
‘Yes? What?’ Aware again of her surroundings, Ella looked up, her brain now computing what the vicar had said.
‘That’s wonderful news. It’s always gratifying when people get involved in the community and doing the church flowers may seem like a small inconsequential thing but it’s all part of the bigger make-up of village life. Magda’s very good at that sort of thing.’ He paused and looked out of the window. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from her.’
Ella’s shook her head as her heart sank. It was just as well she hadn’t heard from her godmother, she might have a few choice words to say to her. Seriously, flower arranging? What had Magda been thinking? And now she’d missed a perfect opportunity – she should have told him she was far too busy. But you couldn’t lie to a vicar, could you?
‘And, how lovely, you’re an artist. I shall look forward to your floral creations. It must be truly wonderful to have a talent like that. Sadly, mine run to much more practical things. Well, I say practical, but not in a plumbing or putting up shelves sort of way. So probably not terribly practical at all.’
Unsure of what to say to his stream of consciousness chatter, she nodded again, her eyes sliding to the quick sketch she’d done.
Devon peered down at the beer mat, took a sidelong look at Richard and then back at the picture, his mouth curving in sudden amusement. When she looked up again, his eyes danced with mischievous delight. For a second her breath caught. Was he going to rat on her? It hadn’t been a deliberate caricature. He gave her a conspiratorial wink.
‘I’m sure you’re good at loads of things, Vicar,’ piped up Bets, quite unaware of the silent exchange. ‘I’m hoping for a bit of divine intervention. Or you could do a prayer or two.’
‘I tend to do that with regard to somewhat weightier matters.’
Bets gave a cheerful shrug. ‘Just a thought. Right, we’re playing 501 to zero. Devon, you can score. You’re better at maths than me.’
‘And I have a calculator on my phone.’ Devon held up his mobile.
‘Even better. Here they come. Alan, Fred, Bill and John. Welcome.’ Bets introduced everyone and the four men, who seemed to be a set of quadruplets in a general uniform of khaki chinos and chambray blue shirts, sat down with their pints at the table opposite.
Ella was amused by Bets’ assumption that she was likely to be the weakest link. She was down to play last after Devon and the vicar.
Neither Devon nor Richard had lied about their skill. The vicar missed the dartboard completely with two of his throwsand the third dart hit a three. Devon was no better and managed to hit a ten and the part of the board outside of the numbers. Alan, Fred and Bill threw their darts with quick efficiency. One. Two. Three. Insouciant confidence radiated from them as they stepped up to the oche with self-assured strides instead of shuffling about on the line the way Devon and Richard had done.
At last it was her turn. She weighed the darts in her hand as she took the set from Devon. The tiny bit of practice she’d had earlier had given her a feel for them again.
With her right foot just up to the line, she narrowed her eyes, focused and let the dart fly. Twenty. Double Twenty. Twenty.
‘You’ve played before!’ screeched Bets, leaping up and looping her arms around her waist.
‘Once or twice.’ Ella shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant, unaccountably pleased by Bets’ delight and the look of surprised admiration on Devon’s face.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you could play?’ Bets indignant face made her giggle. ‘Magda never said.’
‘For starters, you never gave me a chance. I did try but you kept interrupting me.’
‘She does that a lot,’ said Devon drily to no one in particular.
‘I do not . . . OK, sometimes I do. So how come you can play?’
‘The double was probably a fluke as I’m a bit out of practice but I used to live over a pub when I was a student.’ She flashed a superior grin towards Devon. ‘Men tend to assume girls, particularly blonde girls, can’t throw straight.’ She winked at Bets. ‘Kept me in paint and brushes while I was at college.’
Devon burst out laughing. ‘That’s brilliant.’
Richard tried to look however a vicar should look and after a few expressions crossed his face, he clearly gave up trying. ‘Good for you. I’m sure there’s a scripture in there.’ He nodded his head and muttered to himself. ‘Perhaps Colossians 3:23.’ He lapsed into thought.
‘So have you got any tips for us?’ asked Bets.
‘Yes, your throwing technique is dreadful.’ She mimicked Bets’ throw. ‘You need to be side on and twist your upper body. Keep your body still. Aim, bring the elbow back a little and then throw and let your hand follow through.’
