Page 22 of A Perfect Devon Christmas
‘That was kind of you.’
He shrugged, then gestured again towards the computer. ‘Cleaning houses?’ His voice was gentle, not judgemental. He looked pointedly at the bookshelves before picking up his mug.‘In my country, clerics do not clean houses. I don’t think it’s different here. Why are you ... ?’
‘It’s honest work.’
‘But not your work.’ Omar sipped his tea. ‘You say there is a new teacher. Why didn’t you apply for that position?’
Even to her own ears, Ivy’s laugh sounded strained.
‘If you regret retiring as a vicar, why don’t you go back to it? According to the news, there is a national shortage.’
Ivy paused. ‘They wouldn’t consider me. Not after what I said.’
‘Ah. Because you upset someone powerful and they decided your time was finished?’
The directness startled her. Fred should never have shared her history without asking Ivy’s permission first. ‘Something like that.’
‘In my country, my position became problematic.’ He carefully set down his mug. ‘But here, just because you upset someone, that doesn’t have to be the end of your life.’
She gasped. He made it sound so dramatic.
‘You have choices still.’
‘Do I? The Bishop made it quite clear ...’
‘One man’s opinion. Not all doors close at once.’
Ivy studied him, this quiet man so far from his home country. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Yes.’ Omar nodded. ‘But helping parishioners, it’s in the blood, no? Like a calling.’
‘Until I questioned their methods,’ Ivy murmured.
‘The authorities here,’ Omar said suddenly, staring into his cup, ‘they are no different to those back home. Both have too much power. They can turn on people who trust them.’
Ivy thought comparing the Taliban to the Church of England was a little harsh but, recalling her own experience, the pushing aside when she’d needed support most, maybe there were similarities. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘they can.’
The back door opened with its familiar creak, and Fred bustled in, bringing with him a current of cold air and a few fallen leaves. ‘It’s freezing out there, and not that much warmer in here,’ he announced, immediately moving to check the radiator nearest Ivy. ‘Is this on properly? You need to bleed these old things regularly.’
She caught Omar’s eye and knew he had guessed she’d only put the heating on because people were coming for tea, and the room hadn’t had a chance to heat up yet.
‘I’m fine, Fred,’ Ivy said, touched but exasperated by his fussing. She caught the hint of a smile on Omar’s face; he’d noticed that dynamic too.
‘Cold snap forecast,’ Fred continued, crouching to greet an excitable Jez. ‘You can’t stay in that shed, Omar. I’ve got a spare room – proper heating, proper bathroom. Hot water.’
Ivy interjected, ‘I’vegot a spare room.’
‘Better if he stays at mine.’
Ivy watched Omar’s face carefully, asking herself why Fred was so protective lately. Did he not trust Omar around her?
‘Helen, the new teacher, starts work tomorrow,’ Ivy said, watching both men’s reactions. ‘At the primary school. She’s taking Year 4.’
‘Year 4?’ Omar asked. ‘That’s a nice age. They’re old enough for independent work but still curious about everything.’ Ivy rubbed her chin, wondering how Omar knew so much about the English education system. She was about to ask, but he seemed to catch himself and took a hasty sip of tea.
The doorbell chime sliced through the moment. ‘That’ll be Helen,’ Ivy said, standing. ‘You might have seen her arriving earlier, Omar.’
Before she turned to answer the door, Ivy caught a flash of fear on Omar’s face, like the one she’d seen that morning.Poor Omar, she thought. What had happened to make him so waryof strangers? She often noticed him averting his eyes when villagers looked his way.
