How the Light Gets In

[Ada Beckett]

Ada had explored as much of the shops along the main street of Penchurch as she'd liked, for now, and decided to turn her steps a little ways up the hill to where the little stone church of St. Pirrin's stood--not exactly the focus of bustling attention, but not seeming particularly neglected, either. Damp, mouldering leaves were scattered all over the churchyard from the winter's storms, but the little paths to the doors at the front and back of the building were swept clear, and the stained glass windowpanes sparkled in the low-slanting beams of the late-afternoon sunlight.

Seeing nobody about outside, Ada tried the wrought-iron handle on the door, and felt the heavy wood shift beneath her effort. The stones of the threshold were worn smooth by age, and the oiled hinges swung smoothly, and the door did not scrape much as she pulled it open and let herself inside, tugging the door shut again at her back and reaching up to unwind the scarf she had around her neck. It was warmer inside the church than out, of course, though not by much in the middle of a week-day, when one must suppose the radiators were left off to keep heating costs down when few people were likely to be making any use of the building.

There was the usual sort of heavy, dusty smell that seemed, to Ada, to pervade all old churches. Notes of warm wood, cool stone, aged paper, worn cloth, and melting wax all came together into that subtle perfume of quiet, sacred places.

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her hooded coat, Ada slowly walked partway down the little center aisle before stepping to one side and sitting at the end of a pew, content to just observe the simple interior and the gilded ornaments which adorned the altar, where coloured silks and white altar-cloths dappled with the jewel-toned lights cast inward by the stained glass made shadowy corners bright.

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy didn't usually come into the church in the middle of the week, and especially not at this time of day. Generally speaking, she was far too busy writing her sermons, dealing with people's problems or tidying up. This last was done infrequently and as quickly as possible, since Lucy hated housework, but it was done, and that was what counted.
Today, though, she was at a loose end. Sermons were written for the next month, the village rumour mill was silent for once, and the Vicarage was (thankfully) spotless, spick and span and in perfect order. Very satisfying.

So there she was, doing nothing. Finally, out of desperation almost, she had walked over the road to the church. There was always something that needed dusting, tidying away or polishing in the ancient stone building. A vicar's work was never done, and it was obvious why. Apart from anything else, she had to look after two houses, so to speak.

As she entered the church, it was immediately apparent to Lucy that someone else was in the room. She knew the building so well by now that it felt fundamentally different when another person was inhabiting the space. It took the vicar a moment, however, before she actually spotted the intruder-visitor her mind hastily corrected. Lucy closed the heavy church door quietly and walked across the stone floor, her footsteps echoing and reverberating throughout the enclosed space.
"Good afternoon." she greeted the young woman who sat in the pew, thanking the Lord that she'd happened to put on her cassock before coming across. At least now she wouldn't appear to be a random stranger who'd wandered in off the street. Lucy hadn't seen the woman before to the best of her knowledge, from which she deduced the fact that she was either a visitor or a newcomer. Strange that she'd not had a description, a character analysis and a financial report on the woman through the grapevine by now. Penchurch was a quiet village, so every event was reported in minute detail to anyone that might possibly have a passing interest in it. And Lucy wouldn't have it any other way.

[Ada Beckett]

It was impossible to muffle the sounds of movement or footsteps in a space so echoing and compact, but Ada still felt a momentary jolt of surprise when a voice addressed her out of the quiet. Perhaps the result of living all her life in London, where you could be in a crowd amid all the noise and tumult possible, and the person crushed against you wouldn't breathe a word unless there was something very dire which needed some comment. Like a late train.

Ada was never far from smiling, though, and she turned to see a friendly-looking vicar approaching.

"Hello," she said. "I...I'm sorry if I'm intruding."

[Lucy Parr]

"No, that's quite all right, my dear. Stay as long as you like. Religions, and by extension churches, exist to benefit the people. Not the other way round." Lucy smiled cheerfully, attempting to scrutinize the woman for further clues as to her identity without being obvious about it. She was having little luck so far.
"Can I help you with anything, or would you like me to go away and leave you in peace?" Lucy asked, perfectly serious but attempting to inject some light humour into the conversation.

[Ada Beckett]

"Oh, I didn't come to be alone, or anything," said Ada, grinning a little. "I was just...exploring. Thought I'd seen just about all there was to see down in the middle of the village and it's an easy enough walk up here, so..." She gave a small shrug to the vicar. "Churches are kind of the heart of any place, aren't they?"

There was a brief pause before she felt she ought to be friendlier, especially as she was going to be in town for some time, at least. She wasn't just a tourist passing through in one day, making light conversation then never to be heard of again.

"I'm Ada," she offered. "I'm staying with--well, renting a flat--with Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, down the end of the high street?" She felt foolish a moment later for explaining where Mr. and Mrs. Taylor lived, feeling that if the vicar had been around for any length of time she probably knew all there was to know about Penchurch and its inhabitants within a fortnight.

[Lucy Parr]

"They are indeed." Lucy agreed with a warm smile. "Especially in the more traditional communities, which unfortunately tend to be either in Cornwall, the Scottish Highlands or the Welsh mountains, these days."

She wondered briefly how long it had taken the woman to explore Penchurch. There wasn't all that much of the village, really, but the winding cobbled streets did tend to make the place a little difficult to navigate, at least until you got used to them.

"Oh yes? They're lovely people." Lucy remarked of the Taylors. "I haven't seen them in a while, I must say." She paused, then realised that the woman had better know her name if she was going to be here for any length of time.
"I'm Lucy Parr, by the way." Lucy introduced herself. "Reverend Lucy Parr, technically, but most people just call me Lucy."

[Ada Beckett]

"They're so kind," agreed Ada, regarding the Taylors, though she wasn't entirely surprised to hear the vicar hadn't seen much of them for a while. They were both getting older, and it was almost all Mrs. Taylor could do to still take her little rolling shopping trolley for a sweep down the street of shops, picking up whatever the couple needed for the day before her return. On dry days, she and Mr. Taylor would go for a short but slow walk down to the shore and back, however long it took, but somehow always returning in time for Mrs. Taylor to have their tea poured and ready at five o'clock, before she got a start on their simple suppers.

Ada could look after herself in her rented suite, and would never have dreamed of imposing on them for anything, insisting she could look after her own washing and tidying, not wanting to be a burden on Mrs. Taylor if at all possible--only paying the monthly rent into their bank-account in town, and hoping it helped them toddle along to next month. They were comfortable in their routines, however, and Ada didn't even mind that they sometimes had the television or radio on so loudly downstairs that she could follow along with whatever programme they were enjoying, too.

"Reverend Parr..." said Ada. "Lucy--I...honestly I don't really go to church and never have. Like, weddings or christenings, of course, but...I hope you won't take it as some kind of judgement if I don't turn up on a Sunday morning. I was just...curious. About Penchurch."

[Lucy Parr]

"Religion is a choice that we make, Ada." Lucy told her. "You choose what religion to follow. You choose how far to follow it. You choose whether you believe or don't believe. No one can make you think any differently, and I certainly wouldn't dream of trying. Being someone's vicar is like..." Lucy paused, wondering how best to phrase her point. "It's like being someone's mother and someone's grandmother and someone's best friend, all rolled into one. You might think differently, I don't know. But the point that I am trying to make here is that your relationship with your vicar doesn't have to be about religion. This may all be irrelevant, depending on how long you'll be staying with us here, but I don't mind whether you turn up to my services or not." Lucy paused again to gather her thoughts. "Obviously I would prefer it if you did-" she smiled. "-but that's a decision that you make, and I respect you for that. Just know that if there's anything that I can help you with, I will do my best to do so." Lucy had a fleeting memory of her parents, standing and looking so shocked when she told them that she wanted to be a vicar. There had been arguments and complaints and petty disagreements too, but her most poignant memory was of them just standing there. Shocked. Disbelieving.
"Anyway," she continued. "If you want to find out about the village and its people, the best place to try would probably be the pub. I'd ask for Janet, she knows everyone and everything that goes on in this village."

[Ada Beckett]

Ada blinked, then smiled, half-shy as Lucy's explanation sank in. It was a relief of sorts to realize that there was no particular pressure, just because she'd been caught snooping in the church. Because that's definitely what she'd been doing, as far as she could tell. Curiosity could kill however many cats it liked, Ada could never resist listening in or poking at a mystery or peeping around the corner.

"Janet, at the pub..." Ada nodded slowly. "--oh, the building that used to be the old railway station...yeah, I've seen it, but I haven't been brave enough to go in. Even when I just go to the shop here in Penchurch I feel like I stand out, a bit."

[Lucy Parr]

Lucy smiled wryly at Ada's statement, recalling how she had felt when she first moved here. It was a tight knit community, and newcomers stood out from the crowd like sharks amongst goldfish.
"My dear girl, I stand out when I go into the shop, and I've lived here... Seven years, probably more." Lucy had lost track of time since moving to Penchurch; every day was the same in many ways, and little changed in the village from day to day, or even month to month.
"They're lovely people here, but they just don't cope well with change."

[Ada Beckett]

"Don't they?" asked Ada, a little surprised. She wondered how they'd ever got permission to film an entire show in Penchurch, until she considered that the Abbey was privately-owned, and there might now have been any consultation whatsoever with the actual residents of Penchurch. However kind they might be, now, would they still be kind in a month's time, when the town was overrun with crew and the roads clogged with vans?

"...oh...oh, dear," she muttered, biting her lip. Who were the actors, but the public face of any production?

[Lucy Parr]

"Oh, they'll not be unfriendly." Lucy hastened to add, afraid that she was giving entirely the wrong impression of the villagers. "It's just that... everything stays the same here, so new people stand out and they tend to be the centre of attention for a while. Novelty takes a long time to wear off around here, I'm afraid." She paused, watching her visitor's worried body language. "Is something the matter?" she enquired, with a little apprehension in her own tone. She certainly didn't want to scare off any visitors to the church, even if they weren't here to pray. "I hope I've not upset you."

[Ada Beckett]

"Upset? Oh, no," Ada was quick to dismiss the conception that she was paranoid or fragile. Which...well, wasn't everyone, to some extent? But she hoped those facets of human nature weren't controlling forces of her personality. "It's just...well...I'm in Penchurch to work on the TV show," she admitted.

[Lucy Parr]

"Oh, I see." Lucy took a moment to hastily go over what she'd said up to now and check whether any of it could possible be construed as offensive in the light of this new information. She didn't think so...
She should have guessed, of course. Most new faces in the village were something to do with the BBC production these days. It was hardly a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes.
"Well, we've been looking forward to that." It was only a slight white lie. Personally, Lucy had indeed been looking forward to it- it would be a bit of a novelty. Some others, unfortunately, weren't so keen.

[Ada Beckett]

"...well, you're a friendly soul, at least," said Ada with a little laugh, trying to shrug off her nerves. It wasn't as if the BBC was going to be chased from the village with torches and pitchforks--this was the 21st century! People might not like it, but Ada would have to trust that the British way of repression and politeness even in the face of horror might keep most people from openly telling her exactly what they thought of Bournewood. "And I'm sure they'll eventually need extras in some big group scenes or something...maybe the idea of getting involved will persuade some people to like the process."