The most Reverend James Fortescue-Roberts-Smythe (or ‘Jimmy’ to his ecclesial mates) had found himself in some peculiar predicaments during his ministry. But it didn’t occur to him that hiding in a cramped cupboard under the stairs, clasping a china tea plate, was in any way strange. In fact, as he waited for Mrs Sodbury, his housekeeper, to finish her nattering on the vicarage telephone, he began to like his new environs. Perhaps he could bring a little three-legged stool in here to sit and think from time to time. He’d install a small brass knob on the inside of the door, to facilitate closure, and could retire under the stairs for a bit of peace and quiet – or even, a nap! It was perfect. Given its proximity to the chimney wall, it would always be warm in winter. So it was decided: he’d call this place his Secret Snug and would repair here whenever the Bishop (“Bishy, as he nicknamed him”) was on his case for some irritating ecclesial matter, requiring a letter to be written. If Mrs Sodbury didn’t suspect his internment, Jimmy could spend a whole day in here, conveniently missing unpleasant visits from Bishy, and having been “called away at short notice” when his various counselling clients called for their sessions. Jimmy’s strategy was simply to leave a note on the hall table, thus:
“Mrs Sodbury, short notice, been called to meeting. Will be out until 4pm, please advise callers. Please leave afternoon tea and cake on trolley in lobby near under-stairs cupboard. Regards, Rev.”
As regards his constitution, it would be trivial to wait for the mid-afternoon tea trolley to be unattended, before discretely opening the closet door to retrieve a generous wedge of Margaret Sodbury’s moist cake. He would keep the little tea plate under the stairs for such purposes.
This, he mused, was boyishly clever.
