The Vicar’s Wife Returns
I couldn’t have been two minutes out of the drive and less than a mile down the road towards the train station – when Ali caught sight of Marjorie coming up the drive. She was looking out of the kitchen window and noticed that Marjorie had bounce in her step – not the trudging walk of an ageing doyen. No walking stick either, although still the beetle crusher shoes, pop socks, tweed twin set and that awful black hat sat on top of her head with her massive hair all coiled underneath. Beginning of summer and she had the silly gloves on. Ali opened the front door. “Nice to see you Marge. Come on in.” Ali walked back in the kitchen leaving Marjorie to close the door. They had a different relationship now – no …