A Judgement in Stone by Ruth Rendell Page A

they were already aware that she herself had paid her first visit to the village that afternoon. Nellie Higgs and Jim Meadows had spotted her, the grapevine was at work, and her appearance and the motive for her walk would be discussed and speculated about in the Blue Boar that night. But to Eunice that Joan Smith should recognise her and know where she worked was little short of magicaldivination. It awoke in her a kind of wondering admiration. It laid the foundation of her dependence on Joan and her belief, generally speaking, in the rightness of everything Joan said.
    But all she said then was, “I haven’t heard.”
    “Well, early days yet. Lovely to get away for three weeks, isn’t it? Chance’d be a fine thing. Ever such a nice family, aren’t they? Mr. Coverdale is what I call a real gentleman of the old school, and she’s a real lady. Never think she was forty-eight, would you?” Thus Joan added six years to poor Jacqueline’s age from no motive but pure malice. In fact, she heartily disliked the Coverdales because they never patronised her shop, and George had been known to criticise the running of the post office. But she had no intention of admitting these feelings to Eunice until she saw how the land lay. “You’re lucky to work for them, but they’re lucky to have you, from all I’ve heard.”
    “I don’t know,” said Eunice.
    “Oh, you’re being modest, I can see that. A little bird told me the Hall’d never looked so spick and span. Makes a change, I dare say, after old Eva giving it a lick and a promise all these years. Don’t you get a bit lonesome, though?”
    “I’ve got the T.V.,” said Eunice, beginning to expand, “and there’s always a job wants doing.”
    “You’re right. I know I’m run off my feet with this place, it’s all go. Not a churchgoer, are you? No, I’d have spotted you if you’d been to St. Mary’s with the family.”
    “I’m not religious. Never seemed to have the time.”
    “Ah, you don’t know what you miss,” said proselytising Joan, wagging a forefinger. “But it’s never too late, remember. The patience of the Lord is infinite and the bridegroom is ever ready to welcome you to His feast. Lovely weather He’s sending us, isn’t it, especially for those as don’t have to sweat their guts out slaving for others.”
    “I’ll be getting back now,” said Eunice.
    “Pity Norm’s got the van or I could run you back.” Joan came to the door with Eunice and turned the notice to
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. “Got your chocs? That’s right. Now, don’t forget, if ever you’re at aloose end, I’m always here. Don’t be afraid of putting me out. I’ve always got a cup of tea and a cheery word for a friend.”
    “I won’t,” said Eunice ambiguously.
    Joan waved merrily after her. Across the bridge went Eunice and along the white lane to Lowfield Hall, She took the box of chocolates out of the paper bag, threw the bag over a hedge, and munched an orange cream. She wasn’t displeased to have had a chat. Joan Smith was just the sort of person she got on best with, though the hint of getting her to church smacked a little of interference in her life. But she had noted something exceptionally soothing about their talk. The printed word or anything associated with it hadn’t remotely come up.
    But Eunice, with her television set returned and as good as new, wouldn’t have considered seeking Joan Smith out if Joan Smith had not first come to her.
    This birdlike, bright-haired, and bright-spirited little body was as devoured with curiosity about her fellow men as Eunice was indifferent to them. She also suffered from a particular form of paranoia. She projected her feelings onto the Lord. A devout woman must not be uncharitable, so she seldom indulged her dislike of people by straight malicious gossip. It was not she who found fault with them and hated them, but God; not she but God on whom they had inflicted imaginary injuries. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord: