The Holy Spirit [Open]

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy glanced at her watch as she raised her hand to push the door open. Plenty of time yet; she didn't need to be home until nine, when she was expecting a telephone call from a local charity. Just one of the many, many jobs which she had to do every day as a rural vicar. It wasn't exactly a thrill a minute, but it was certainly fulfilling, and entertaining at times. That wasn't why she did the job, but it certainly helped her to get through it.

And now here she was, pushing open the door into the local pub. Not exactly holy, but- she smiled wryly- with any luck, it would involve a reasonable amount of spirit. Janet knew her weaknesses, and she exploited them to the full. Not that she was  entirely unwilling- far from it. Alcohol was not listed amongst the Seven Deadly Sins, after all, and she certainly wasn't a Methodist.

The door closed behind her and she was instantly swept up in the friendly atmosphere of a local pub as she divested herself of her coat and hat, then walked through the tables up to the bar.

[Hannah Trewith]

‘Thank you,’ Hannah smiled, as her food was brought to the table. Hot, crisply battered cod (local, of course), thick-cut chips and mushy peas: heaven.

The quality of the food at this place would never wear off, she thought to herself, plunging her fork in immediately. Her sketchbook and pencils lay next to her, open at her most recent drawing. She had spent the day at the beach, working on an elaborate depiction of a specific bit of seaweed she had found lying in an interesting way. She didn’t really look at her work with any smugness, but she was content with it. After she had eaten she was going to draw something else, anyway. Perhaps the empty bar stool in front of her? The low overhead light was casting quite pretty shadows.

She munched appreciatively, vaguely measuring the proportions of the stool with her thumb. Her pub evenings had been a regular thing for a long time, but they were becoming more of a special treat at the moment due to her absence of income.

Just then, someone came through the door – the vicar. Though not exactly devout, the Trewiths had ambled along to enough Christmas Eve services that Hannah could recognise the blonde, friendly-looking woman. She came in, and settled herself on the empty bar stool. The light shifted - darn.

Actually, Hannah thought, this looks quite good… There could be a whole story behind this. Who was the woman? Why was she at the bar on her own? What was in her head? Polishing off the last of the mushy peas, the girl swapped dish for sketchbook and began to sketch an outline, the slight weirdness of drawing someone completely unawares not even entering her mind.

[Lucy Parr]

Leaning both elbows on the bar, Lucy stared off into space as she considered life in general. Christmas was long gone by now, and the upsurge in churchgoers which always occurred over the festive period had passed. While Lucy knew that technically she should not view this as a positive event, in reality she did. It took a great deal of pressure off her when she knew that she was writing sermons for only the relatively few who attended the services all year round, rather than the hordes that flocked into the wooden pews of St Pirrin's while the chill of the winter and the leftover festive atmosphere from Christmas still hung in the air.

Ugh, she was so tired! She knew that she shouldn't have woken up so early this morning, but the insistent ringing on her doorbell had roused her from her sleep at half past five this morning. After twenty minutes discussing a crisis, she had been too awake to go back to sleep, and so she had started writing sermons. Before she knew it, it was time for the morning service and then she was thrown into the day, having lost two hours of her sleep. Having worked all day since then, she was now worn out, and yet she couldn't sleep until she had taken that telephone call. Hence her presence here.

She noticed a somewhat strange scratching sound behind her, which she would have attributed to mice, had she not been here. The Vicarage suffered terribly with a mouse infestation, but Lucy doubted that Janet would have allowed the same to happen here. The woman was far too formidable an opponent to have been defeated by a few rodents.

Turning, she identified the source of the sound after a moment's scrutiny of the room as being a young woman with a pencil. Hannah Trewith. No, Lucy didn't know everyone; just everyone that lived in the village.

"Good evening!" she called across the room, having nothing better to do than spend a little time socialising.

[Hannah Trewith]

It wasn’t too long before the vicar turned round.

‘Oh hello,’ Hannah smiled, vaguely, almost like she’d only just noticed her. ‘Your, um…’ (She paused – what did one call a vicar? Highness? Holiness?) ‘Reverend…ness.’ (Probably.)

She scrutinised her picture, then the woman. Yes, the likeness was there.
‘I’ve been drawing you,’ she announced, happily, putting it back on the table. ‘And the bar stool. And the bar behind you, really. Everything looks quite interesting like this, you know, what with the light and the shadow and… things.’ She broke off, abruptly - it had suddenly occurred to Hannah that the vicar might not have wanted to be drawn. (Many people didn’t. That was something she had realised in her school days, many of her idle sketches the subject of disciplinaries for Perving/Stalking/Being A Weirdo.) ‘Um, but if you don’t want me to I can stop,’ she assured.

Despite such good intentions though, she ended up coming out with another typical blunt sentence. ‘Are vicars meant to drink?’ she grinned.

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy smiled gently. She had always liked the woman; she seemed to enjoy a version of reality which did not entirely match up with that which everyone else shared. Still, she seemed happy enough. Live and let live, was Lucy's motto. After all, she wasn't the Spanish Inquisition. She was the local vicar, and as she saw it, her job was to get on with everyone.

"Just Reverend, Hannah. But Lucy will do me fine." she told her newfound companion, leaning back on the bar which was now behind her and taking a sip of her drink. Some of the people in her parish rather intrigued her. They were all so different, and yet so similar. They were joined by the village itself, really. They enjoyed a sense of community which seemed wonderful to the city-bred Lucy. Watching the blonde, she wondered what the piece of paper which she was looking at was. As she was about to pose the question, it was answered.

"Really?" she asked. Lucy had always loved art, but regretfully, she was cursed with a distinct lack of skill. However, she did like to look at the work of others. "May I see?" She was rather flattered by the idea that she might be a good subject for drawing. Previously, she had never considered the suggestion. She didn't exactly have the face that launched a thousand ships, although she did wonder why looking like a bottle of champagne was considered a good thing...

Ah, the eternal question. If she had a pound for every time that she heard that... "The Bible tells us that Jesus drank wine at the Last Supper." she pointed out. "If it was fine for him, I don't see why I shouldn't indulge myself."

[Hannah Trewith]

‘May I see?’ Lucy asked.

‘Of course!’ Hannah passed her the paper. It captured her perfectly, despite only consisting of a few vague pencil-marks. Much like her personality, Hannah’s style of drawing was faint, fleeting, yet somehow compelling.

‘I really like drawing,’ she found herself saying, suddenly. Faced with this opportunity for conversation, she wanted to make it worthwhile. ‘Painting, too. Photography. It’s all I do.’

She chuckled at the Bible comment. ‘Drink all the alcohol you would like to, I say. Life is short. I like the fuzzy feeling it gives you. It makes you see the world at a slightly different angle, which can be good.’ She tilted her head slowly to the side.
'Not everything is black and white and straightforward. Like the Bible!' she burst out. 'Like how so many people subscribe to slightly different shades of the same religion, how some people believe some things and others believe others, but all the same and all Christians, all spiritual people! I don't know. Does that make sense?'

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy took the paper carefully and held it up to the light. Her eyes weren't quite as good as they used to be, and she seemed to have left her glasses on her desk. Still, she could see quite well enough to make out the drawing before her and be impressed. The style was rather unusual, but it was definitely a work of art. Hannah must have quite the talent.

"That's very good." she complimented, handing the paper back with a smile. "It's not easy to make me look good. I like art too, but I'm not much good at it. Except photography." She liked photography. Sunsets, sunrise, the pattern of sunlight on water... She'd photographed them all, and the results were framed on her sitting room wall. Of course, it came in useful for the parish newsletter as well. Everything from children's parties to charity fundraisers.

Leaning back, she stretched out her legs a little. This was likely the only chance that she'd get to relax all day. She wanted to make the most of it.

[Hannah Trewith]

‘Thank you,’ Hannah smiled, shyly taking back the paper. She always found compliments difficult to receive, though of course she was grateful for them.

‘You must show me some of your photos sometime!’ she asserted. ‘It’s lucky we live in such a photograph-able place. I’ve been at the beach all day today looking at things that are beautiful enough to draw.’

‘I always come here for food after a Beach Day. How about you? Have you done anything nice today?’ She wasn’t sure what to talk about with the vicar, seeing as they seemed to have little in common, but she found the woman so friendly and nice she did not want to end the conversation.

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy shifted further forward on her stool to hand back the paper, then had to hurriedly clutch at the bar behind her in order to prevent herself from falling. Balance had never been her strong point. There was a reason why she wasn't a professional gymnast.

"Oh, I will if I remember." Lucy told the girl. "The scenery around here is utterly gorgeous. I took a beautiful picture of the sunrise over the ocean yesterday." If she had a phone, like everyone else these days, then she could probably have showed it to the girl, but technology was not Lucy's strong point, and there was not much signal around here anyway.

"No, I've just been writing sermons." Lucy returned with a friendly smile. "I'm expecting a phone call later, so I've not been up to much today."

[Hannah Trewith]

‘Careful,’ Hannah grinned as the woman teetered on her bar stool. It was funny, she even managed to look graceful and composed while almost falling off a chair. Hannah was more than a little jealous.

‘Oh, who is the call from? I’m terrible with telephones, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to work one. Even land-line ones. Once when I was little, my parents were down on the farm and the telephone rang, I almost died of fright. I thought it was some kind of burglar alarm!’ She shivered at the memory. It was safe to say she didn’t often get left alone in the house as a child after that.

‘Also, more importantly…’ she mused, idly picking up the menu and biting her lip in thought, ‘… should I get dessert?’

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy returned Hannah's grin as she regained her posture and took a moment to ensure that her position was secure. Balance had never been one of her strong points, though posture and grace were, for some strange reason.

"Some charity organisation or other..." Lucy replied vaguely, being unable to remember exactly. She had a feeling that they did something with disabled children, but she dealt with so many different ones these days that it was hard to keep track. She smiled at Hannah's tale. "I'm not brilliant with technology myself, but I have to say that I've never had that happen to me." Touch wood. It was probably only a matter of time.

"Always get dessert." Lucy advised with a grin. "You never know where the next one is coming from."

[Hannah Trewith]

'Yes, I suppose charity and religion are very strongly linked,' Hannah mused, twirling the edge of the menu in her fingers. 'I don't know enough about it really, I've never really subscribed to any particular faith. I think I believe in God though.'

She grinned about dessert. 'Correct answer. And I suppose you're right. Often I just eat fruit from the farm but proper desserts... these dinners are becoming a bit dear for my pocket.'

A member of the waiting staff walked past.

'Excuse me,' Hannah called. 'Could I please order a -' (She pointed at the gorgeous picture on the menu) '- dark chocolate salted caramel brownie?' She smiled inquiringly at Lucy. 'Oh, did you want anything?'

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy nodded in what she hoped was a sage and knowing way. The two were indeed linked, as she knew all too well. It wasn't that she really minded per se, it would just be nice to have a break every so often. Still, that was the price that she paid for living in paradise.

She let the God comment pass with little more than a vague nod. Lucy never felt entirely comfortable discussing people's views; she always worried that she might inadvertently convert them.

She smiled and took a sip of her drink as she watched Hannah ordering a brownie. "No thank you, I'm fine." She'd already eaten, and she would have to be leaving soon anyway.

[Hannah Trewith]

Hannah blinked, her conversation met with merely a nod. She wasn't one to get easily offended by any means, but she had a vague feeling that the vicar would prefer this conversation to be over. She smiled warmly nonetheless.

'Okay, then, that's everything. Thank you,' she told the waiter, who moved off.

Somehow, she couldn't think of anything to say to Lucy. She really had tried to make a meaningful connection, and she had enjoyed talking to her a lot. But perhaps their backgrounds were just too different to really click.

Before too long, the delicious confection was in front of her. 'Food is definitely one of my favourite things...' she proclaimed. After thanking the waiter, she couldn't help but immediately start eating it, her mouth soon full of wondrous caramelly goodness.

It was only a minute afterwards that she realised she'd said the food thing out loud.

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy stifled a yawn with one hand and rubbed a hand over her eyes. God, she was tired. So tired, and she could't even go to bed when she got home. That damn charity would be calling... Ugh, why had she agreed to that? Why tonight?

She had a niggling feeling that she was being rude, and somewhat inconsiderate, but she couldn't really muster up the energy to do anything about it. Not right now.

She shot a tired and somewhat pale smile across the gap toward her companion. "Sorry I'm not much good as company." she apologised. "I'm just so tired."

The blonde wasn't entirely sure why. She hadn't been doing any hard work or anything. Just thinking. Reading. Writing. Reading again. Planning sermons... And, of course, fixing that little hole in her cassock...

Lucy grinned. "Food is one of my favourite things too." she agreed with a wink. "Very good for you, if you ask me." Some of the food in the village was absolutely delicious.