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Wendy did tell Betty though in the car on their next trip to Gloucester and asked whether Henrietta had approached her.
"No," replied Betty. "We're not really buddies. It was Jane that brought us together but we don't get on with each other all that well. Nor did my husband and we both reckoned Arthur was a complete stick-in-a-mud."
Wendy giggled. "I don't think Mr Richards is a fan either."
"Quite right. He isn't. Anyway, that's one off the list of suitoresses."
Wendy laughed delightedly. "What a lovely word! How many are left?"
"Two that I know of."
"Do I know them?"
"Yes, dear. You and me."
"Betty!"
Betty chuckled. "Oh, I'm a canny old bird. It takes a lot to fool me and you can't help the way you look at him when you think nobody's looking or when he comes up with one of his kind or thoughtful remarks."
Wendy blushed profusely and looked down at her hands. Betty glanced at her, smiled and reached over to pat her knee gently.
"Don't worry, my dear. I'm not going to fight you for him. I'm just going to sit back and wait until he decides to stop pining for Jane and then let him pick whoever he will."
Wendy said nothing. Indeed, she was silent until they stopped in the supermarket car park. Betty, ever sensitive, reached for her hands which were tightly clasped in her lap.
"Wendy dear, I promise that if he should pick me I'll make jolly sure that you stay as long as you want."
Wendy turned to her, tears welling, and nodded. She was unable to speak. It was, understandably, a fairly silent shopping expedition and they did not stay for lunch. It was not planned anyway.
Wendy was now in a dilemma. It had been there for several weeks but Betty's saying that she was on the list of 'suitoresses' had brought it to a head. She had been fully aware that Henrietta had had her eye on Tim, if only as a plaything, but she had been aware of Tim's feelings about her. The row had been almost inevitable. Betty though was a different kettle of fish. She knew that Tim was very fond of Betty. She was warm, friendly, amusing and, as Wendy had discovered to her own benefit, a very genuine and loving woman. Furthermore, being all of those things and perceptive, she had made that promise. It was typical of her but it did not take away Wendy's fear. She had come to love Tim. He was kind, gentle, generous and, despite being sixty something, very attractive. Admittedly that had grown out of the first three. Was she now to become a spinster living with the man she loved but unable to do anything about it? And yet she could not leave. There was nowhere for her to go. The fact that she had accommodation would mean the council putting her well down the waiting list and she was sure that they would call his bluff if Tim tried to put pressure on them. She also knew full well, as did Betty, that Tim was still not prepared to move on to a new relationship. She would have to do the same as Betty and just wait but she thought, hoped rather, that actually living with Tim might give her the advantage although she shrank from the thought of actually competing with Betty of whom she had become very fond and who she respected. She's also the same social class as Tim, she thought ruefully.
Quite early on Tim had noticed that Wendy, when in the kitchen, always had Classic FM playing on the radio in the background. He asked her about it.
"Oh, I like modern music," she said, "not rap and stuff but Amy Whitehouse and so on but somehow classical music really gets to me and is what I really enjoy. I don't know what it is but it's more restful, well not all of it, and somehow it sounds more like what music should sound like." She looked questioningly at him.
"I know what you mean," he said. "I'm dated but I love trad jazz, a lot of the Beatles and Elvis Presley but I don't go much for the present bunch. I tell you what. I've got a fair bundle of classical music and you're more than welcome to come and sit with me after dinner and listen to it."
"I'd like to," she said. "Thanks, Mr Richards."
And so it had become a habit. They would sit in the drawing room after dinner most evenings and listen to a symphony or a concerto. Then he introduced her to choral music and she quickly grew to share his enthusiasm. She also wished that instead of him sitting in his armchair they could snuggle up on the sofa to listen to it, particularly when he played Haydn's Creation and there were Adam and Eve singing about 'sweet companion' and 'with thee, with thee'. Somehow it was more moving than any modern love song.
In her present state of mind though she thought, admittedly somewhat selfishly but all was fair in love and war, that this 'sweet companionship' after dinner might give her an edge on Betty. She thought also that she would make sure she showed interest in his interests. This was not entirely to appear more attractive to him. Some of the things he talked about genuinely interested her but when he voiced his views on the economy the difference between 'fiscal', 'financial' and 'monetary' still left her cold.
Riding though was a common interest and she had proved an apt pupil. Tim had started her on a smaller horse but now she was riding Jane's hunter, Melody, with assurance. She was also learning to jump which she really enjoyed. Tim was enthusiastic and congratulatory. Betty, although showing an interest in Starlight, did not ride or never said she did, she thought slightly smugly.
And so the year ran on and Christmas approached. As Betty had forecast, David Coglan, the vicar, had come to meet Wendy but had not been pushy about her coming to church. He reappeared though in mid-November to see Tim.
"I'm on the scrounge," he admitted cheerfully. "St Thomas's in Gloucester run a lunch for the homeless on Christmas Day so I'm here with my begging bowl."
"You've never asked me to contribute before," replied Tim.
David grinned. "An unforgiveable oversight," he said, "but actually with the recession and the cut backs on benefits the parish council reckons there will be even more guests than usual this year."
"What sort of people are they?" asked Tim. "Junkies and drunkies or genuine down and outs."
"The lot," David replied seriously. "Sure there are what you might call layabouts and spongers but there are the elderly, people who've lost their jobs or been dispossessed, single mothers and so on. I've been going after the Christmas morning service for several years and it's an eye opener and actually very saddening. There are charities to cater for these people but they have neither the funds nor the space to look after them all."
"I went one Christmas," said Wendy. "OK, it was only one meal in the year and the food bank helped out quite often too but that day was special and really raised my spirits. For a while anyway."
"Is there a recommended donation?" Tim asked.
"No. Five, ten, twenty. It all helps."
"Hang on. I'll go and get my cheque book," said Tim.
"Why did you go, Wendy?" asked David.
"Single mum."
"Where's your child now?"
"Dead. Motor-bike accident. He killed Mr Richards's wife."
David Coglan's jaw dropped. "And yet you're working for him?"
Wendy nodded. "I volunteered. I felt I owed him."
"And he took you on!"
"He's a very special and compassionate man."
Tim came back at that moment with a cheque. "I've made it out to St Thomas's Church. Is that all right?"
"Could you add PCC, Parochial Church Council, after it?
"Of course."
He did so and David put it away without looking at it.
"Thank you very much," he said adding particularly to Wendy, "I'm glad I called."
Tim saw him out.
Wendy moved to him when he came back into the kitchen. "I saw how much you gave when you added 'PCC'," she said. "Two hundred and fifty quid's a lot of money. Was it because of what I said about going there?"
Tim nodded.
She pulled his head down and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.
"Sorry!" she said, "but you are a very special man." She ran to her room.
"And you're a pretty special young woman," thought Tim. "The more I get to know you the more I like you. You're more than a housekeeper. You're a companion. I'm very lucky you happened to me"
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