Virginia Kirby was a
ward sister at the Winston Churchill Hospital and she was a rather plain
middle-aged woman just the wrong side of 50.
Virginia was five foot six inches tall and very trim, and stood an
inch or so taller in her stout shoes, and her sisters uniform fitted her
perfectly, tapered at the waist where the broad belt sat.
Her once black hair was now streaked with grey and bore what Catherine
Cookson fans would recognise as the “Mallen streak”.
She was always smiling, but the ageing in her face wasn’t all due to
laughter lines, life’s hardships and experiences were etched into her face as
well, each line and furrow an event and for those who could read such signs it
was like her résumé.
She was well-liked and respected at work but none of her colleagues
knew her outside of work and assumed she was just a sad lonely spinster.
That was due in part to the fact that she was a private person and
didn’t talk of her private life and also because those who had happened to see
her outside of work reported back that she was a frump as she choose to dress
in the twin set and tweed style because sartorially Virginia was a sensible
shoes and utilitarian tights kind of woman.
Even people from the village of Dulcet St Mary, where she had lived
for 20 years believed her to be a sad lonely old soul and many of them referred
to her as “the prudish Miss Kirby” or “virginal Virginia” or “the dried up old
spinster”.
But as more than one man had found out over the years to their
surprise beneath the frumpy exterior lay a hidden warmth.
The other thing that
tended to reinforce the stereotype was her heavy involvement with St Mary’s
church but even the other congregants were unaware of her true nature.
Which was why when a
new curate arrived at St Mary’s and was in need of lodgings Virginal Virginia
was as always the obvious choice.
Being single and
living in a four bedroom house she always had room for a lodger and being the
epitome of respectability and a dried up old virgin to boot there was never a
hint of impropriety.
So that was how it came about that the new curate, 34 year old Colin
Ash, came to be knocking on Virginia’s front door one cold winters evening.
“Mrs Kirby?” he asked as she opened the door and she gave the curate
an appraising glance, he was tall and lean with curly mousy hair and blue eyes
and a nervous smile.
“Miss” she replied, and there was a moment’s hesitation as he digested
the information that she was unmarried but Virginia Kirby was quite small and
slim, much smaller than Colin, dowdy and frumpy looking, on looking her up and
down he felt all was in order.
“I’m Colin Ash” he said “the new curate, I’ve come to look at the
room”
“Yes do come in Colin” she said amiably “I’m all ready for you”
“Thank you” he said and stepped into the hall
“Go up” she urged “Turn left at the top of the stairs and it’s the second
door on the right, I’ll follow you up”
“Excellent” he said and Colin started up the stairs and Virginia
followed him.
He followed her instructions and turned left but he opened the first
door on the right by mistake and just as he was about to step inside Virginia
shouted
“No not that one”
But the call came too late because he stepped inside the moment he
pushed the door open but the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks
and took his breath away because standing in the middle of the room was an
attractive young woman of a similar build to Miss Kirby, wearing a bra, pants
and tights, and he had taken her by surprise before she’d finished dressing.
“Oh God” she said frantically looking around for something to cover
her embarrassment and becoming more and more flustered every second
“I’m so sorry” he said, apologizing for his stupidity as well as for
embarrassing her
“Here use this” he added and handed her his coat
“Oh God” she said again snatching the coat from his hand and covering
herself.
“I really am sorry” he said feebly as she pushed him out the door
“Oh dear” he said and turned to look at Virginia
“You’ve met my niece then” Virginia said
Molly Kirby was 30 years old, quite small and slim like her aunt and
pretty and was staying with her aunt for a few days while she was getting over
a messy break up.
And apart from the fact she had been caught in a state of near undress
by a complete stranger and a man of the cloth to boot, she was rather taken by
the look of her peeper and he was very apologetic and behaved very gentlemanly
when he offered her his coat.
“And he had a Nice bum” she thought to herself
After the informal meeting in her bedroom there was a quite natural
awkwardness between them, the problem was that they lived in the same house, on
the same floor, next door to each other.
It was a large Victorian house but it was very difficult for him to
get to his room without passing her room and thus bumping into Molly was
unavoidable.
Not that he didn’t like seeing her, he did, very much, and as to
bumping into her, he thought of little else, in fact as a Curate he had very
ungodly thoughts about her, and the image of her in her underwear was burned into
his brain.
But the status quo would have been maintained indefinitely had it not
been for two unrelated events that occurred on the same day.
The first event was Colin having to administer the last rites to his own
grandmother which left him at a very low ebb and the second was when Molly
discovered that her ex-boyfriend was engaged to her best friend, or at least
her former best friend.
On receiving the news Molly repaired to the Cross Keys to drown her
sorrows where she tried her best to get very drunk very quickly but the pub
closed before she succeeded so she went home.
Once she reached the front door she tried in vain for some time to
unite her door key with the lock but after a few minutes as she struggled to
achieve her aim the door opened and Colin was standing there as he was heading
in the opposite direction.
There was a moment’s delay when they just stared at each other before
Molly, who was much smaller than Colin, surprised him when she leapt up and kissed
him full on the lips and before he knew what he was doing he was kissing her
back.
He wasn’t sure if a curate should have been indulging in such
behaviour but he thought she was a very good kisser, so apart from pausing long
enough to pull her across the threshold and close the door, he carried on.
And the kissing marked new beginnings for them both in the village of Dulcet
St Mary where in time he would become the Vicar and she would become his wife.
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