Short Story

RAISING THE ROOF

Julia Skelhorn, Sherborne Scribblers

The Charbury Gazette sold out by 10.30am – not a single copy left on the shelves. If headlines were designed to sell tabloids, they certainly did that week: ‘BISHOP SASHAYS DOWN AISLE TO STATUS QUO’

Roland Bickerstaff summoned all members of the St Chad’s Ladies’ Choir to an urgent meeting. He’d been Vicar of St Chad’s for eleven years and, in addition to the everincreasing problem of a leaking roof, the choir, like the flower arranging team, had been a rather large thorn in his side. The arrival of a new music director six months earlier had thwarted his idea of disbanding the choir. Miss Fanny Stockton, a retired music teacher, moved into the village and the choir welcomed her with open arms. A small, mouse-like creature, with wisps of frizzy, grey hair escaping from a tiny bun, Miss Stockton’s diminutive frame belied her booming voice and massive enthusiasm for anything and everything musical.

‘We’re so glad you’re here,’ Mrs Billings exclaimed at the first practice. ‘Can’t tell you how dreary it’s been with old Bill Malthouse in charge all these years. Good organist, but dreadful choirmaster.’ Throwing her capacious blue cloak over a pew, Fanny opened a large, battered, leather case and pulled out a sheaf of music and a baton. ‘Well, show me what you can do then! Are you our organist?’ she called to Mrs Quinn who had already placed her ample self in front of the organ. ‘I suggest you get into your usual groups to start with – sopranos and altos!’ With that, everyone made their way to the chancel, Fanny in tow. Depositing the sheet music on the lectern, she stood, all five feet two inches of her, in front of the choir, huge, grey eyes bright and baton at the ready.

‘Breathing exercises, ladies,’ she boomed, hand placed on ribs. ‘Then we’ll run through some scales.’ Her enthusiasm immediately lifted the members’ spirits. ‘Now, can you manage the 23rd Psalm? See what you can do.’ Mrs Billings’ nerves got the better of her and she sang off-key, receiving a hefty nudge from Susie French. Not to be deterred, Fanny calmly lowered her baton. ‘Not a bad effort, but I know you can do better. Lead on please Mrs Quinn, then we’ll try it a capella.’ As the weeks went by, for the first time in years, the choir looked forward to attending the practices and, urged on by their new leader, went from strength to strength.

Meanwhile, Rev. Bickerstaff was bogged down with PCC meetings in an attempt to instigate some serious fund-raising for the roof repairs. It was finally agreed that in order to promote the various planned events, the suffragan bishop be invited to launch the efforts at a

morning service. Not generally blessed with an over-optimistic outlook on life, and as it hadn’t been his suggestion in the first place, the vicar immediately launched forth with, ‘I think you’re expecting far too much. Be extremely difficult to find a slot in the bishop’s diary so soon.’ The secretary sat bolt upright.

‘Well we won’t know unless we try, will we,’ she said. ‘If everyone agrees, I’ll get in touch with his PA first thing in the morning.’

The minute Fanny got wind of the bishop’s impending visit, she invited the choir for coffee. ‘Why don’t we tell the vicar that we’ll put on a little choral concert during the service? If it’s well advertised, we’ll fill the church – we could call it Raising the Roof.’

‘What an excellent idea,’ Mrs Quinn piped up. ‘But who’s going to tell the vicar?’ Fanny beamed. ‘Me, of course! It’ll give me great pleasure.’

As everyone assembled for the vicar’s urgent meeting, the atmosphere was exceptionally strained, Rev. Bickerstaff wearing a distinctly frosty expression. ‘I’m looking for an explanation,’ he began, scanning the faces around the room. ‘Whatever possessed you to play that frightful music just as the bishop was moving down the nave? We’re a laughing stock; it’s all over today’s Gazette.’ All eyes focused on Fanny, who, true to form, had an appropriate answer ready.

‘Vicar, you are well aware that it was a mistake. You knew that the choir was to perform Rutter’s Look at the World, the accompaniment on CD being preferable to that of the organ.’

‘Well, what happened then? I’ve had to issue an apology to the bishop – it’s all frightfully embarrassing. I could lose my job through another of your hair-brained schemes, Miss Stockton.’

‘I can explain, vicar,’ Mrs Quinn began, encouraged by Fanny’s raised eyebrows and smile. ‘We asked our Archie to play the CD on the audio system for us and Fanny gave him strict instructions to press Deck 1. He was a bag of nerves on the morning, and when I questioned him after the service, he said ‘Really sorry, Mum, but I pressed the wrong button! I must have pressed Deck 2 instead of Deck 1.’ He’s only fourteen, vicar, and it was a genuine mistake. The Status Quo CD must have been left on the system by the Youth Group who were in church recently practising for their jam session next month.’ Before the vicar could jump in with more exasperating diatribe, Fanny sallied forth.

‘Well, there you are, vicar. The bishop confided in me that he was a great fan of Status Quo and it had been such fun to let himself go and enjoy The Wanderer again. More to the point, through the article in the Gazette, St Chad’s has received free advertising all around the area. Everyone is now aware that you desperately need money for your roof fund. I bumped into the treasurer this afternoon and he was gloating over the fact that he’d already received offers of donations amounting to ten thousand pounds.’ Fanny beamed and looked around the room. ‘So, ladies of the choir, I say onwards and upwards – keep raising the roof!’