11 am, Church of Truth.
Mrs. Cecil, wearing a brimless hat, sat in the church, holding a feathered pen, noting down reports of damage to parishioner's homes while pricking up her ears to overheard noises emanating from the kitchen.
She couldn't understand, she really couldn't understand why Marvin, the priest, wasn't in the church receiving parishioners but instead rushed into the kitchen carrying ingredients....
That was her job!
Previously, they had agreed, ten shillings a week, she would take care of laundering, cooking, cleaning....
And then what?
Every other day, Marvin would cook himself, creating plate after plate of delicious dishes...
"I knew it... I just knew it...."
After seeing off the last parishioner, Mrs. Cecil said distractedly, "I knew the priest never liked what I cooked, he just didn't have time to cook himself... Is my cooking really that bad?"
"It shouldn't be...."
