The Country Doctor's Choice by Maggie Bennett Page B

queue of communicants formed, and Derek placed a wafer on the hand of each, then Mrs Whittaker offered them the chalice. Jeremy North went first, so as to get back to the organ and play softly while Communion proceeded.
    ‘The body of Christ.’
    ‘Amen.’
    ‘The blood of Christ.’
    ‘Amen.’
    Derek braced himself as Beryl Johnson moved forward, and held out the wafer to her.
    ‘The body of Christ.’
    He waited for her ‘Amen,’ but instead she made a grab at his hand, pressing it to her lips, and moaning, ‘Oh, my God, take pity!’ The wafer fell to the floor, and he snatched his hand free, drawing back from her as if from a poisonous snake.
    ‘Stop—be quiet—’ Words deserted him as she stood before him weeping, but Mrs Whittaker, practical asever, nodded to Phyllis Maynard who was next in the line of communicants, and a silent message passed between them. Phyllis stepped forward, took Miss Johnson by the arm, and led her down the aisle to a seat at the back.
    ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—’ Beryl repeated on a rising note.
    ‘Stop that, stop it at once,’ ordered Phyllis. ‘Listen, I’ll take you home after the service, my car’s just around the corner in the car park. Only you must be sensible.’
    Phyllis got Beryl out of the church before the singing of the last hymn, ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’, led by the Christmas choir. They got into the car, and little was said on the journey to Angel Close and Beryl’s little semi. Phyllis got out and walked arm-in-arm with her passenger to the front door. Beryl had quietened, but Phyllis went indoors with her and brewed a pot of tea which they shared.
    ‘I know how you must miss your mother, Beryl, and I’m truly sorry, we all are, but it’s really time to move on now. People will only give you so long to grieve, and then you must make the effort. I lost my husband less than three months ago, and I know how—’
    Beryl Johnson turned and looked at her with streaming eyes. ‘He was so kind and good to me when she died, but now he turns away, and I can’t bear it.’
    Phyllis stared at her. ‘What do you mean? Who are you talking about?’
    ‘Him. The love of my life, Derek Bolt. I can’t live without a word from him.’
    ‘Good heavens! You’ll have to get over
that
, Beryl, or you could cause the vicar awful embarrassment, and besides, you’d make such a fool of yourself, people wouldn’t sympathise. It’s ridiculous.’
    There was a pause, and Phyllis said, ‘Look, I’ve got family coming for lunch, and I’d ask you to join us, but not if you’re going to talk like this.’
    ‘I don’t want any company except his.’
    ‘You’re being extremely foolish, you know – what on earth would his wife think? Listen, I shall be at home for the rest of today, so here’s my phone number if you need to—er, need help of any kind.’
    Even so, Phyllis felt that if this poor woman ‘did something silly’, she would feel at least partly responsible, and it troubled her throughout the rest of the day. She said nothing to Jenny or Tim: they had other matters to discuss, arising from the newspaper cutting.
     
    Thoroughly disconcerted, Derek completed the Communion; he saw Phyllis Maynard lead Miss Johnson out during the singing of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’, and also saw his sons having a giggle over Mr Pritchard’s disappointment at not singing ‘Patapan’.
    ‘That was a bit of bad luck,’ said Jeremy as they disrobed in the vestry.
    ‘God knows what I’m going do,’ the vicar replied grimly.
    ‘That makes two of us, then. Anyway, enjoy your dinner.’
    ‘They won’t be short of something to say over all the dinners in Everham today. Oh, bloody hell.’
    Poor old Bolt, thought Jeremy on his way home. He’s right, this’ll spread for miles around.
     
    Fiona was reproachful. ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve been half out of my mind. Roy’s come home – that is to say he was brought home by two of his