Time’s Legacy

3

While Abi was standing in the patch of nettles at the back of her new flat, surveying the scene and wondering if she had time to cut back some of the weeds and plant a few token flowers to give the place a bit of colour, almost exactly 203 miles away by road, in Woodley in Somerset, Cal Cavendish was standing in the gardens behind her somewhat larger, detached house, staring into space, a pair of secateurs in her hand. A basket of cut flowers lay at her feet and she hadn’t moved for several minutes, lost in thought. They were in trouble, deep trouble financially, far worse than they had thought. The only income that came in now that her husband, Mat, had retired was from his suddenly rather meagre-seeming pension and her B & B business and it had not been a good summer. She sighed. She and Mat had just come back from one of those interminable meetings with the bank and the trustees in Taunton, which always left them feeling so depressed. Her instinct had been to go into the garden to hide amongst the flowers, Mat’s to take the dogs and go out for a long walk.

As the sun set the house threw oblique shadows across the lawn. It was a beautiful place, the kind of house anyone would kill for. She had thought it a dream come true when she realised that she and Mat were going to live here. It was an ancient manor house, built of mellow local stone. Parts of it still reflected its medieval foundations, parts had been remodelled in the eighteenth century to give it, outwardly at least, a Georgian symmetry which was to her mind utterly beautiful. A building had stood on this site for nearly two thousand years – they had Roman remains in the garden to prove it – and it wore its history like an ancient velvet cloak, confident, stately, elegant and distinctly shabby. Her thoughts went back to the bank. You weren’t called in to see local managers these days. There were no more lunches with a man who you thought of as your friend or at least as a civilised person to whom you could talk. The loan department was based in Taunton and the young man who had spoken to them had employed an edgy, slightly threatening tone which she could see had grated on Mat as much as it had on her. The house’s history, the fact that it had been in Mat’s family for hundreds of years, the efforts they were making to repay the various loans Mat’s father had cheerfully taken out over the years without bothering to inform his three sons, none of this seemed to engage him in the slightest. All he was interested in was the computer screen in front of him. The screen which he kept swinging to face them, but which never quite seemed to be legible or comprehensible to either of them. She glanced at the house. In this light you couldn’t see the crumbling cornices, the rotting wood, the splits in the mullions, the missing slates. In this light it looked like something out of a fairy tale.

A movement in the flowerbed caught her eye. It was the woman in the blue dress. Cal sighed. She watched her with only half her attention, seeing the figure drift seemingly aimlessly amongst the autumn roses. ‘I wish you could bloody well help,’ she said out loud after a moment. ‘What about bringing us some luck for a change.’ Wearily she bent to pick up her basket. When she looked again the woman had vanished.

‘Can you drive over to see me, darling? I would so love it if you could. Your father is at a conference in New York, so it would be safe to come home!’ Laura Rutherford sounded as cheerful and humorous as usual. Abi stared down at the phone thoughtfully as she replaced the receiver. But something was different. Had there been a waver in her mother’s voice? If there had it would have been unheard of. Laura was a strong and determined woman. Serenity was her middle name.

The fact that Abi’s sudden re-posting had been to a Cambridge parish had in a way been a disappointment, for she had known the city for a large part of her life. Her father had been a professor at the university until his retirement and her parents still lived in the house on the far side of the city where she had been brought up. As it turned out her new job was in an area of a Cambridge she had never known before and one that every day shocked and surprised her more and more, but in many ways she would have preferred to be based somewhere far away because much as she loved her mother, her relationship with her father was uncomfortable to say the least.

The household into which Abi had been born had been aggressively godless. Her father, the world-renowned chemist Professor Harry Rutherford, had drummed a compulsory atheism into his only child from the first. When she had gone up to Lady Margaret Hall in Oxford and chosen to read history he had nearly had apoplexy, but her lack of talent in maths and the sciences at school could neither be overlooked nor sidestepped and he was forced to give in with good grace to the inevitable fact that chemistry would never be her thing. He even understood his daughter’s love of sacred music. Music was his own passion, sacred music an illogical but profound side shoot of something that had a comfortable root in mathematical progressions. The areas of her life which involved healing and intuition and irrational spiritual longings she kept very carefully to herself. Had he known that sometimes she lingered in churches and cathedrals to sit, lost in thought which sometimes turned to prayer, he would have disowned her on the spot. As it was, her decision to study theology and later to seek ordination led to a quarrel which had kept them apart for five years in spite of her best efforts to effect some kind of reconciliation. Since her move back to Cambridge she and her mother had met alone, secretly, for furtive lunches in small restaurants in the narrow winding streets of the old city far from the modern science laboratories which were still her father’s usual habitat even now he was retired.

Laura Rutherford was a deeply spiritual woman but she had no time at all for the strictures and structures of the church. ‘I am afraid you will regret this, sweetheart,’ she had said with a sigh, when Abi had told her of her emerging vocation, ‘but you have to follow your own star. You will always have my blessing, whatever you do. You know that.’ Her own worship was centred on her love of plants, her world famous garden, the time she spent alone in the company of flowers. With her husband she was able to maintain a sufficient level of scientific involvement with horticulture and plant chemistry to keep their marriage stable and happy over its thirty-five years of existence. Her private beliefs, whatever they were, she kept to herself. Neither her husband nor her daughter were a party to them.

Her mother greeted Abi at the front door and they hugged each other with guilty glee. ‘It’s so lovely to see you!’ Laura led the way indoors. ‘Darling, Harry! I’m quite glad to be shot of him for a few days. He is such a bigot!’ There was a bleak emphasis on the last word which brought Abi up short. She caught her mother’s hand and swung her round to face her. ‘Mummy? Is everything OK?’

Laura nodded. ‘Of course, darling. Now, you tell me what has been happening to you. I was very surprised to hear you had moved. Why the sudden flight from the Rectory? Has that oleaginous man been pawing you?’

Abi let out a snort of laughter. ‘He’s not oleaginous. He’s basically a nice person, but yes, we were getting a bit too close and his fiancee objected. All over now. The bishop had a word. It’s strictly business from now on.’

Laura led the way into a garden full of roses. ‘You still shouldn’t be working with a man like that. How can you concentrate on your job!’ her mother retorted.

‘It is my job to learn to get on with people. To manage situations. To cope with men like Kier. If I fall at the first fence I might as well give up.’ Abi flung herself down on a mossy stone bench. A small fountain trickled gently in the circular pond at their feet.

Her mother sat down next to her. She smiled fondly at the water spout. ‘Solar powered. Isn’t that clever.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘You are not talking about your clients here. Your parishioners. Whatever you call them. You are talking about sexual harassment at work.’

Abi shook her head. ‘I have to deal with it, Mummy. God must have sent me to St Hugh’s for a reason.’

Her mother glanced across at her. ‘Perhaps God is trying to show you that you are in the wrong place. In the wrong job.’

Abi looked away. ‘I’m not in the wrong job!’

‘So, you’re enjoying it?’ Laura turned back to the fountain, studying the moving rainbows in the water with exaggerated care.

There was a short pause. ‘I’m finding it a bit tough, actually,’ Abi said at last. ‘It’s not just Kier. It’s the whole pastoral thing. It was so different before, in my last parish. I saw myself as a healer, not a social worker. Now I’m expected to give advice, recite an austere prayer, but keep my distance from people and I hate it.’ She bit her lip. It sounded shameful, said out loud like that. ‘It must be what God wants for me, and I have dedicated myself to serving him, but -’ She paused.

There was so much missing from the reality of being a priest now, compared with her expectations, she didn’t know where to start. She had tried again and again to face what was wrong, to pray about it, to ask God what she should do differently, to try and find why so much was missing in her life now that had been there before, even when she was a student. The sense of the numinous. The wonder. The absolute knowing that there was so much there which cannot be seen but which is known absolutely deep inside. It was a certainty which made the whole world shine and that shine had gone. ‘I’m not very good at poverty and obedience, I suppose. I didn’t sign up to be a nun! Everything I do here presents some kind of conflict. I’m a mystic by nature, but I have to be a realist as well. I have such a sense of duty towards this job, and yet, I long to be free. I know I have a calling but now I want to rebel at every turn. I want to help and heal, but apparently I’m not allowed to. I want beauty and passion and a sense of the sacred in my worship! It’s not there. I sense the other world around me, but I don’t dare mention it. It is as though Kier is terrified of anything spiritual. There is no Mystery in what I do. With a capital M. At least not when -’

‘Not when?’ Laura did not look up. Her hands in her lap were clenched.

‘Not when Kier is there. It’s his way, I suppose. He is a sincere, dedicated man, and he believes in what he is doing, he’s passionate, but he bullies the congregation. He talks about sin all the time, never the hope and beauty of God’s love. He works to rigid rules as though he’s afraid to allow any mysticism to escape. In fact as though he’s afraid of everything.’

Laura grimaced. ‘It sounds to me as though it’s Kier who is your problem, not God! Don’t you take services on your own? Can’t you do your own thing?’

‘Not very often. I take them at the little church in the parish, but even there I am always conscious of being watched. Spied on. Someone is always there to sneak back and tell him I’m doing something wrong.’

‘He sounds awful.’

Abi laughed. ‘No. It’s just a different approach to mine. I have to learn his way of doing things. He’s also warm and funny and very charismatic in his own way.’

‘He doesn’t sound any of those things from what you are saying.’

Abi opened her mouth to deny it, but somehow the words didn’t come.

That evening when she walked into her flat there was a message on her phone from Kier asking her to meet him over at St John’s. They arrived more or less together and he ushered her in, closing the door behind them. Carefully deliberate in his action he turned the key and taking it out of the lock he put it in his pocket.

‘Why did you do that?’ She looked at him, startled.

He shrugged. ‘I often do in the evenings when I am over here alone. You know as well as I do there are some rough types around. Once or twice they have come in and tried to cause aggro. It can be a bit intimidating.’ He walked a few steps away from her, looking troubled. He was dressed more informally than usual, an open-necked shirt under a casual jacket and with a slight sense of surprise she caught sight of a silver cross on a chain around his neck.

She frowned. ‘What is it, Kier? Is something wrong?’ He had turned on only one light. It shone fitfully in the area at the back of the nave. The rest of the church was shady as the sun began to drop below the neighbouring rooftops; the atmosphere was tense. It was very quiet.

‘Yes, something is wrong.’ He turned to face her. ‘We get on well, don’t we, Abi.’

She smiled uneasily. ‘Of course we do.’

‘And we like each other.’

‘We’re colleagues. We work well together.’ She felt a flicker of apprehension.

‘That’s what I thought.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I don’t know how to put this, Abi. It seems wrong just to put it baldly, but the way things are at the moment, well, the thing is, I think you’re causing some dissension in the parish.’ He didn’t meet her eyes, staring down instead at the strip of carpet on the flagstone floor. It was designed to bring some vestige of warmth to the often cold church but suddenly it seemed like a barrier between them as they stood awkwardly facing one another. ‘Since you moved out I’ve been able to see things more dispassionately. I’ve thought about this a lot over the last weeks and I’ve prayed endlessly about it. You are stirring up difficult and unacceptable emotions in our congregation. And,’ he paused, still not looking at her, ‘in me.’

Abi laughed. She couldn’t stop herself. It was shock rather than amusement and as soon as she had done it she was sorry. ‘Kier, I don’t understand. What on earth do you mean?’ She frowned. ‘Is this about Sue…’ Her voice died away as he looked up at her at last and she saw the burning intensity in his eyes.

‘Sue and I were over the day she came up and spoke to you. She knew. She understood how much I need you,’ he said quietly. ‘She can’t help me the way you can.’

Abi took a deep breath. ‘Kier, I am still not sure I understand. How could I help you any more than I am? No!’ She put out her hand to fend him off as he moved closer. Suddenly she was angry. Was the man actually admitting he fancied her? ‘This can’t happen, Kier. You are a priest of the church. You are my mentor. I trust you.’ She paused. ‘I trusted you,’ she added softly. He was holding her gaze with frantic intensity. ‘You are going to make it impossible for me to work with you if you say another word.’

The church seemed to resound with the silence that followed. She didn’t dare move.

‘You misunderstand, Abi,’ he said at last. His voice was flat. ‘I am not propositioning you. I won’t deny that I find you attractive, but that is not why I need you.’

She took a careful step backwards, holding his gaze. Until he extricated the key from his pocket she was locked in with him. ‘I know you need me, Kier. That is why I am here,’ she said robustly. ‘As your curate. Nothing more.’

He grimaced. ‘It is as my curate, Abi, that I want you there. I have to have you there, on the premises.’

She stared at him, shocked. ‘You are asking me to move back to the Rectory?’

He nodded. ‘God sent you to look after me.’

‘God didn’t send me, Kier,’ she said sharply. ‘The bishop sent me because he felt you needed someone to help you with the parish.’

‘And the bishop was instructed by God. He prayed for the right person this time. So did I.’

‘The right person for the job, Kier.’ Her unease was steadily building inside her. There was something strange about him which was making her nervous. ‘Which doesn’t include living on the premises. This is a complete nonsense and you know it. And the bishop knows it.’ She saw her fear reflected in his eyes for a moment and took another step back. Desperately she made herself remember her training. The situation had to be defused. She had to get out of the church. ‘Look, I will think about this,’ she added more gently. ‘Of course I will. I need to go away and consider what you’ve said.’

He was shaking his head. ‘You need me too, Abi, as much as I need you. More so. Out there, on your own, you are not under proper supervision. People don’t like it. They don’t trust you. When you are at the Rectory I can tell them I’m keeping an eye on you. I can reassure them that I am overseeing your work. I need your promise, Abi, to come back. You have to be there. If you defy the will of God He will be angry.’

‘If it is the will of God, Kier, He will tell me so in my prayers.’ She couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her voice. Her hands had grown clammy. She took another step back from him. ‘I need to go, Kier. I have to pray about this, surely you can see that? Can I have the key, please.’ She tried to keep her voice calm.

He hesitated, then he looked up at her and she could see an answering stubbornness in his eyes. ‘Are you are defying God, Abi? Are you defying me?’

For a moment she was too shocked at his choice of words to answer. ‘I came to this parish to serve God! If God wants me to move back to the Rectory He will make it clear, I am sure. Until that point, I will make my own decisions and at this moment I just want to go home. The key please.’ She held out her hand and somehow she kept it steady, waiting for him to produce it, using every ounce of will she had to make him comply. For a moment she thought he was going to turn away but with a shrug he took a deep breath and reaching into his pocket he pulled it out and after a moment’s hesitation he dropped it onto her palm.

‘Very well. We will leave it for now. I can see the suggestion is a shock for you. I thought you had understood, but I will give you time to come to terms with your duty in this. It is what we both need, Abi. I promise you, it will work.’

Somehow biting back an angry retort she turned away, almost running to the door. Dragging it open she glanced back over her shoulder. He was walking slowly up the aisle towards the altar. He did not look back.

The sound of the door closing behind her echoed round the church. Kier stood for a while looking at the altar then he moved into the choir stalls and sat down, his head in his hands. How could he explain? How could he tell her?

Since she had left the Rectory his fear, his terrors, his childhood nightmares had returned. The huge empty house had echoed round him. He lay awake staring into the dark, aware of the echoes everywhere and he felt tears trickle slowly down his face. He had rung Sue, but she had not wanted to speak to him. Several times he had gone upstairs and let himself into Abi’s empty flat. It felt happy. It was bright and safe. Her bedroom was warm in the evening sun and her bed, even stripped of bedclothes seemed to retain the fragrance of her body. Quietly, embarrassed and ashamed by his own action, he lay down on the bed and hugged her pillow. There he could keep the ghosts at bay.

It took Abi a long time to calm down. The walk home helped, striding fast through the warm streets, ignoring the groups of hoodies clustered at the crossroads, the chattering crowds around the doors of the pubs, cigarette smoke rising into the air, summer students coming out of some sort of meeting in the old Adventist meeting hall. Running up the steps to the door of her flat she let herself in and slammed it behind her. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her mouth dry. It was several minutes before she had composed herself enough to walk through to her bedroom. In the corner was a small table which she used as a prayer desk. The little wooden cross came from Iona, the candlestick from Walsingham. The room was dark, the window shrouded by the heavy lace curtain which prevented people in the street from looking in. At first she had wanted to tear the curtain down, let in the natural daylight, but she soon realised why it was there. Pedestrians strolling down the street could look straight in, only feet from her bed.

‘OK, big boss. Tell me what to do.’ She slumped on her knees on the cushion in front of the cross. ‘I can’t cope with this on my own. Something is very wrong with him. He’s too needy and too afraid. Surely you don’t mean me to go back. You wouldn’t serve me up like some sort of sacrifice. You couldn’t!’ She stared up at the cross. ‘Could you?’

Climbing to her feet she walked across to the window and stared through the curtain at the street outside. It was quiet and it was getting dark at last. Somewhere up there in the sky beyond the reflection of the streetlights no doubt the stars were beginning to appear. With a sigh she turned away from the window. ‘Tell me what to do? Should I go to the bishop? I don’t know if I can handle this myself. Kier was so – scary!’ She bit her lip. To fail so soon in her first appointment. To have to ask for help. It was humiliating. She was a grown woman, not a girl. She had fended off dozens of difficult men in her time. So what was different about Kier? She reached across and turned on the bedside lamp. By the dim light she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had pulled free of its clip again. It framed her face and cascaded down over her shoulders, emphasising the luminous quality of her pale skin, the extraordinary clarity of her eyes. She was wearing a V-necked cotton T-shirt and she stared miserably at the small gold cross at her throat. Bloody Kier! He was putting everything in jeopardy. Her career, her future, even her faith! She was startled to see a look of sheer hatred flash across her face. It terrified her.

‘I’ve said no. I’ve said I don’t want to see him any more. I’ve told him I will apply for a transfer. I had to bolt my front door last night! I woke up to see him peering in through the net curtains. I don’t know if he could see me, but it gave me the creeps.’ At the first opportunity she had gone back to her parents’ house, pouring out the story to her mother. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with the man! One minute he seems obsessed with me, the next he’s a little boy who has lost his mum in the supermarket. He’s terrified of something. I’ve had to leave the answer phone on. He keeps ringing. All the time. I don’t know what to do!’

‘Have you told David?’ Laura led the way into the garden.

Abi shook her head. It always shocked her slightly, her mother’s casual friendship with the bishop. It wasn’t till after her appointment to his diocese that Laura had told her, smiling mischievously, of her lifelong friendship with David Paxman, of their adventures growing up together in the Mendip Hills in Somerset, where their families had been neighbours, of the scrapes they had got into, of the early signs of childhood romance. She had frowned, wondering if strings had been pulled to get her the Cambridge curacy. At the very least it explained the personal interest the bishop had taken in such a lowly newcomer to his diocese.

‘You have to tell him. I didn’t like that man the only time I met him. I told you not to trust him!’ Laura’s judgments were always instantaneous and usually right. She leaned forward and broke off a dead rose, crumbling the brown petals between her fingers and letting them fall on the path. ‘Abi, you are a beautiful woman. You are kind and thoughtful and loving and strong. A lot of men are going to fall in love with you.’ She snorted humorously. ‘I know, a lot already have! But when the right one comes along he will support you and cherish you and you will know to give yourself to him forever without hesitation. Until then you have to learn how to deal with this sort of thing, and, yes, I know you think it is probably some sort of test of your faith, but in the situation you are in it will be impossible for you to function properly. Tell David. Tell him you have to leave. Tell him to find you a new parish! One of your own this time!’

Abi bit her lip, staring down into the pond and the circle of small splashes round the water jet. ‘I suppose you are right.’ She sighed. Was Kier in love with her? He fancied her, she had known that from the beginning, but it was more than that. There was something else there besides the fact that he was used to getting his own way and resentful of anyone who turned him down. Something she was only now beginning to recognise for what it was. A neediness. She thought back to the last time she had seen him. His eyes had been full of something very far from desire. She pictured the flashes of panic in his face. That was it. He was terribly afraid. She shook her head slowly and brought her attention back to her mother’s words. They had sounded wistful. Sad. The two women sat in silence for several minutes, then Abi glanced up. She smiled fondly at her mother. ‘Is that how it is with Dad? Does he support and cherish you?’

The silence before her mother’s reply was just a second too long. ‘You know he does, sweetheart.’

There was another long pause. Abi was still watching her mother. She seemed lost in thought. Laura looked ill, Abi realised suddenly. Her face had grown thin and there were shadows around her eyes. She reached across and touched her mother’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up,’ she whispered.

Laura smiled. ‘We rub along fine, my darling. You know we do.’ She sighed. Then abruptly she stood up. ‘Come with me. The time has come for me to show you something.’

The Limes was large and square, built of grey stone some time in the 1920s in the centre of an acre of gardens. It was gracious, more restrained than some of its neighbours, but still a little extrovert with the architectural details, built on three storeys with a small rather skittish turret at the eastern corner. The top floor of the house was sparsely furnished. From time to time when the cousins, the children of Laura’s two sisters, had descended into Abi’s solitary childhood the rooms had echoed with laughter and music but as they all grew older and their jobs took them across the world the family gatherings had grown smaller and more infrequent. Now only one of the top floor rooms was used. It was her mother’s den. There was plenty of room downstairs but Laura preferred this low-ceilinged attic with windows on three sides, constantly full of sunshine and, when she opened the windows, the scent of flowers and the songs of birds.

The large table in the centre was strewn with papers and books and sketches of flowerbeds. Three chests of drawers lined the walls, some with their drawers so stuffed full of papers they wouldn’t shut properly.

Abi had always suspected Laura loved this room because it was away from her husband’s eagle eye. She had never seen her father up here. Not once, in her whole life. Maybe he came, but she suspected he couldn’t be bothered. He had no interest in gardens other than as places to sit, or probably in anything his wife did which did not involve or revolve around him.

She followed Laura in and as always succumbed at once to the feeling of security and happiness which filled the room. It took her back to her childhood which had been in some ways idyllic. The room smelled of flowers and paint – her mother often painted and sketched the flowers she loved so much, leaving the paintings stacked in careless heaps on the chests of drawers. She never bothered to frame any of them, laughing off Abi’s suggestion that they were worth hanging on the wall.

Abi threw herself down on the chaise longue which stood near the open window looking out across the garden. This piece of furniture, lovingly rescued by her mother from a local house sale, draped with a succession of bright Spanish shawls, had led to the christening of the room as Aunt Laura’s Boudoir by one of her cousins. The name had stuck.

Following her inside Laura closed the door behind her. She was pale, Abi noticed again, and she was slightly out of breath after the climb up the stairs. She sat up. ‘Are you sure you are all right, Mummy? You look tired.’

Laura smiled at her. ‘I’m fine.’ She came over to Abi and, stooping, caught Abi’s hands in her own. ‘Sweetheart, there’s something I have to show you and I want you to promise that whatever you think of it, whatever you feel, you will do as I ask.’

Abi frowned. ‘That sounds a bit portentous.’

Laura grimaced. As though realising how odd it must seem she released Abi’s hands and sat down beside her. ‘Promise, darling. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything if it wasn’t important.’

‘Of course I promise.’ Abi felt a shiver of apprehension creep down her spine.

‘This is something I have kept hidden from your father. He must never know I have told you about it.’ Laura stood up again. She hesitated, then she moved across the room to the chest of drawers standing in the alcove which had once been the fireplace before the attic chimney had been sealed. She knelt before it and dragged out the bottom drawer. At the back was a tin box which she extricated with difficulty. Abi sat without moving. She felt suddenly frozen. Outside a breeze rustled through the leaves on the beech hedge far below on the edge of the lawn. Standing up with a grimace at the sudden twinge in her back Laura lifted the box and put it on the table. Prising off the lid she extricated the contents, something heavy wrapped in a white silk scarf. Returning to the chaise longue she sat down again with the bundle on her lap. Her hand rested gently on the scarf. Abi stared down at it. She didn’t say a word. The room seemed heavy with foreboding.

Laura took a short, almost painful breath and slowly began to unwrap the scarf. Inside was a smallish round lump of rock.

Abi glanced from it to her mother’s face, puzzled. ‘What on earth is it?’

Laura gave a hesitant smile. ‘Take it. See if you can guess.’

Reluctantly Abi held out her hands. The rock, although only about the size of an apple, was surprisingly heavy and she found she had to grasp it tightly to prevent herself from dropping it as in an identical gesture to her mother’s she lowered it onto her knees. Slowly she turned it over, studying every angle. ‘There are shiny bits, like windows. Rock crystal. It looks as though it is crystal inside a rock casing.’ She paused. ‘How weird. It’s almost as if my fingers are tingling.’ She looked up, startled. ‘It’s not radioactive, is it?’

Laura shook her head. She was smiling. ‘No my darling, it’s not radioactive. And it is rock crystal. You are right.’

Abi stared down at it for a few more seconds, then abruptly she gathered it up with both hands and stood up. ‘Here, take it!’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ Laura reached out for it almost tenderly and rewrapped it. Carrying it across the room she laid it reverently back in its box.

‘I could feel it moving. As if it were alive.’

Laura laughed. ‘Not alive. Just powerful.’

Abi shuddered. ‘Mummy! For God’s sake, tell me. What is it?’

‘I can’t explain while you are still a vicar, Abi. I will tell you all about it when you have left the Church.’

‘I’m not leaving the Church!’ Abi looked up at her, startled. ‘At least, only that particular church. Possibly. I will still be a priest.’ She stood up and moved slowly across the room to stare out of the window. ‘What on earth is there about that stone you can’t tell me if I’m a priest? Is it voodoo or something?’ She fell silent for a moment. Her mother didn’t reply. ‘I thought you were OK with me being in the Church,’ she said sadly. She stared down into the garden.

There was a long silence. ‘I am OK with it, darling,’ Laura said at last. ‘Of course I am. How could I not be.’ She gave short laugh. ‘I am proud of you. Very proud. I misunderstood, that’s all.’

‘So, tell me about the rock. What is it?’

‘Just that. A piece of rock.’

‘No. There is obviously something special about it. Something weird.’ Without realising it Abi was wiping the palms of her hands up and down on the seat of her jeans.

Laura slotted the box back into the drawer and pushed it closed. She stood up and faced her daughter. ‘I just wanted you to know about it and to know where I keep it. If anything ever happens to me you must take it and keep it somewhere safe. Understand? And one day you must pass it on to your daughter in turn. I will tell you its story. But not now. For now we will leave it alone. And I will tell you why. The story will change your view of the Church forever. It might destroy your faith. That’s what it did for me. No!’ Her voice was suddenly sharp. ‘That is enough. Not another word.’ Just for a second Abi caught an expression in her mother’s eye she had never seen before. It had gone before she could interpret it. There was anxiety there, and some kind of calculation and something else. Satisfaction. That was it. In spite of her seeming disappointment at Abi’s reaction, something had happened that had pleased her mother very much indeed.

St Hugh’s Church stood silently in the evening sun at the end of its muddy lane. Leaving her car in the layby near the gate on her way back to her flat that evening, Abi threaded her way through the deserted churchyard past gravestones yet again sprayed with red swastikas. She found herself thinking suddenly about her mother’s old piece of crystal as she glanced at the piles of crushed lager cans that had been lobbed at the stones, the broken bottles and empty syringes lying in the grass. Her parents’ house might as well be on a different planet. She sighed sadly, glancing up at the windows, heavily wired to stop them being broken, and breathed a quiet prayer. How often had she cleared up the mess in the last couple of months, her hands heavily gloved, a huge binbag beside her? And every time it had happened again. Would changing the use of the church save it from this? Make the people care? Sadly she doubted it.

Unlocking the door, she pushed it open and pocketed the key. Inside she was greeted by an overwhelming, almost audible, silence. It felt more intense than usual, she realised; more profound. Pushing the door closed behind her she listened to the heavy clunk as the latch dropped into place before walking softly up the aisle to stand for a moment in the semi-darkness in front of the altar. The tough walls, the lancet windows with their ancient stained glass, the breath of long-forgotten incense which seemed to hang in the air, all brought an atmosphere of deep peace to the old church. She loved it like this when she was here alone but this would probably be the last time. Her spell as pretend priest-in-charge was over. Tomorrow, if all went according to plan, Kieran was coming up here with a group of supporters from St John’s to clear up the churchyard and move all the old pews out of the nave. She shook her head, trying not to feel sad. They were going to change the church into a socialising space, bringing in toys and drawing things for the small children; coffee and mugs for the mums. That was right. That was how it should be. They hoped it would encourage people to care for the place, to love it and look after it. It would bring in the young mothers, reinforce a community feeling, introduce them to each other and to the church. She would probably be the only one to mourn the silence and the sanctity. Another thought struck her and she sighed. Tomorrow, thanks to her avoidance skills, would be the first time she had seen Kieran since his frenetic proposal that she move back into the Rectory. She frowned. It was his last chance to prove he could behave normally towards her. There would be a lot of other people here. She would be safe.

She looked up at the cross on the wall behind the altar below the east window. It was carved and old and didn’t look worth stealing so it had been left alone. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘We are doing the right thing here? And it is right for me to try and stay?’

A light came on behind her in the body of the church and she turned round nervously. It was a moment before she realised that it was a last ray of sunlight slanting low through the stained glass window as the sun slipped down behind the trees, throwing gently coloured patterns onto the flags at her feet. She caught her breath, staring at it, mesmerised as near her, suddenly, someone started to sing.

‘Love divine, all loves excelling,

Joy of heaven, to earth come down’

Abi peered towards the empty choir stalls, trying to see into the shadows as the pure, breathy voice sang on, the words of the hymn barely audible. She had seen no-one there when she had come in.

‘Hello?’ Abi moved away from the altar rail and slowly walked down towards the choir stalls. ‘Who’s there?’ She put her hand up, shading her eyes against the sun.

The singing stopped abruptly.

‘Please, don’t stop,’ Abi called out. ‘That was beautiful.’

She could sense someone listening. ‘Where are you? I can’t see you.’ As suddenly as it had appeared the ray of sunlight disappeared as the sun slid down behind the trees outside. The church fell into semi-darkness and she sensed she was alone again.

‘Come back, please.’ Her own voice sounded plaintive and thin. There was no response.

Slowly and methodically she searched the church, unlocking the vestry, peering into corners and under pews. But she knew there was no point. ‘It was a ghost,’ she whispered to herself. ‘An echo from the past.’

The thought didn’t frighten her; since she was a child she had been aware of the world beyond the world. Ghosts were part of the wonder of God’s creation, but she had never heard anything this clearly before. It made her feel blessed.

Reaching the far end of the church she paused and turned back to look up the aisle. A man was standing at the altar. A vicar, but not Kier. This man was taller, with white hair, dressed in a black cassock. He turned as she watched and looked directly at her. Slowly he raised his hand and she saw him make the sign of the cross and as he did so she realised the church was full of people. Shadowy figures crowded the pews, there were candles alight on the altar and in the distance she could hear it again, the pure voice echoing into the silence.

‘Jesus, thou art all compassion,

Pure unbounded love thou art;’

Mesmerised, she watched. She was being shown something so special it took her breath away.

Behind her the latch on the door lifted and the door creaked open. She spun round, shocked at the noise and found herself face to face with Kier. ‘I saw your car.’ He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The church was suddenly still and dark and very empty. There were no longer candles on the altar. The singing had stopped abruptly, leaving not even an echo in the vaulted roof. The suddenness of the change of atmosphere left her feeling bereft and strangely empty.

Staring round nervously he reached for the bank of switches, clicking them on one by one until the nave was blazing with light. ‘I’ve come to prepare for tomorrow.’ His voice was bleak. ‘The sooner this mausoleum is transformed the better.’ She saw him glance at her but he made no move towards her. He seemed anxious.

‘It’s not a mausoleum, it’s a beautiful old country church,’ she said reproachfully. She was overwhelmed by a wave of sadness. ‘Are you sure, Kier? Are you sure this is what God wants us to do here?’

He frowned. ‘Of course this is what God wants.’ He shivered. ‘What use is a church that’s used by only a minute ageing congregation? For goodness sake, Abi, we’ve talked about this.’ He sounded thoroughly irritated. ‘What I plan will bring in the young mothers, the teenagers. When the new development starts, there will be more families, people who want somewhere as a social centre, maybe a drop in clinic. It will still be a church. We will still hold services here. They will just be different.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘I can smell candles. Have you been burning candles in here?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Would it matter if I had?’

He shook his head. ‘Of course not. It’s just odd. It smells so strongly.’ To her surprise she saw beads of sweat break out on his forehead.

Impulsively she took a step towards him. ‘Kier, I saw them. Just now. The congregation that used to worship here. The candles were their candles. The rector was here. I expect his name is one of those on the wall up there. He blessed the church. Someone was singing. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her. It was wonderful…’ Her voice died away.

His face had gone white and he was staring at her in horror. ‘No!’ he shook his head. ‘No. That’s all your imagination.’ He seemed terrified.

She stared at him. ‘It was real for you too, Kier. After all, you can still smell their candles.’

‘No!’ He shook his head again, more violently this time.

‘Have you ever seen a ghost?’ she asked, suddenly curious. She saw his face tighten in denial but she ploughed on recklessly. ‘I’ve often thought I did, but nothing like this. This was so clear. So real. They weren’t frightening. They weren’t some sort of echo. It was as if they were still there, in some other dimension, getting on with their thing. ‘And their thing was surrounding this ancient place of prayer with more prayer, with love and blessings. It was beautiful.’

‘Do you know what you are saying?’ His voice had dropped almost to a whisper. He was staring at her in horror. ‘For God’s sake, Abi!’

‘There’s nothing to be scared of,’ she said suddenly. ‘Look, Kier. Look around. Feel the peace and blessings this place dispenses round it. This is what churches do. They become some kind of powerhouse for the neighbourhood. Prayer radiates out of churches. It doesn’t matter how many people do or don’t go to the service. The stones themselves exude prayer and it has an effect.’

‘No!’ Kier shook his head. ‘Be quiet! Shut up!’ His voice broke. ‘My mind is made up. It has all been arranged with the diocese. I can see it’s a beautiful place. I am sad it has to change but there are lots of other lovely old churches which will stay the same. Just not this one.’ He tightened his lips. ‘Trying to scare me is not going to change anyone’s mind.’

She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t trying to scare you. I thought maybe you would see something. Sense something of what there is here.’

‘There is nothing here, Abi!’ He was almost shouting. ‘Just walls!’ He took a deep breath, visibly trying to steady himself. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we lock up and go and have a glass of wine somewhere. There’s a good place just up the road.’

She shook her head. ‘No thanks, I am tired. I’ve had a busy day; I went to visit my mother. I’ll go home now, and see you tomorrow.’ She managed a smile. ‘What time are the others coming?’ She had to pass him to get to the door. Taking a deep breath she moved towards him, making herself walk steadily down the aisle, realising at once he wasn’t going to step out of her way. ‘Excuse me. I need to go.’

‘Abi, you’ve been avoiding me and we must talk.’ His eyes were wild. ‘I need your help. You mustn’t go!’

Again she shook her head. ‘No, Kier. Now is not a good time. I want to go home.’

She wasn’t expecting him to lunge towards her. Before she had a chance to duck out of his way he had grabbed her arms. She struggled frantically but he was far too strong for her as he pulled her towards him. ‘Abi, you don’t understand. I can’t bear it on my own. These people are everywhere -’ He let go of her with one hand and gestured round the church. ‘You have to help me! I’ve been fighting it so long. I could just about manage it when Sue was there but when you came I found I could control it. I was safe. You are strong. You know what to do. Women know about these things. You could keep them at bay, but now I’m on my own…’ He paused, looking into her face. His eyes were full of terror now, darting back and forth. He was like a trapped animal. ‘I don’t know what to do!’ She saw him swallow hard. ‘You can save me, Abi. You must.’ And suddenly he was pulling her closer, his fingers biting into her arms. His mouth on hers was eager and soft. It repelled her. With a cry of distress she tried to free herself but she could do nothing. The kiss seemed to last forever but finally he released her. ‘Darling, Abi -’

His words were cut off short as she pulled back her fist and hit him full in the mouth. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare touch me again.’ The initial wave of compassion which she had felt as he began his plea had vanished and she was overwhelmed with anger. ‘Do you hear? Never! I want nothing to do with you, Kier. Nothing.’

‘Oh God, Abi, I’m sorry.’ He was clutching his face. ‘I don’t know why I did that. They made me. Someone made me do it -’ He reached out for her again. ‘Abi, listen!’

‘No! You listen. Leave me alone.’ She tried to dodge backwards, and came up hard against the end of a pew.

He caught her by the shoulders. Suddenly his voice changed. ‘You’ve hurt me, Abi.’ There was blood seeping down his chin.

And I’ll hurt you again.’ She could feel the panic mounting as his fingers bit into her flesh. She tried to wriggle free. ‘Let me go, you bastard!’

He released her shoulders and with a quick movement of one hand slapped her across the face. ‘Don’t use that language with me. Don’t you dare!’ His eyes were still frantic. ‘Don’t you see, we can help each other. I’m trying to be patient with you! You have to understand.’

‘Don’t bother!’ She managed to duck free of his grasp and lurched past him towards the door. In seconds she had wrenched it open and was outside, running down the path towards the cars.

Kier had waited for everyone else to arrive before he went back into the church next morning. Hovering in the doorway he looked round. The place was bright and full of noise; he could smell coffee, hear laughter, see the dust of centuries rising before the onslaught of brooms as one by one the pews were hauled out of their serried ranks towards the back of the church. There was no sign of Abi.

Kier rang her mobile twice, but it was switched off. Determinedly he put her out of his mind. There were enough people to keep the terrors away.

It was late by the time they had finished and his was the only car left parked in the lane. All he had to do was pull the door to and turn the key. He stood in the doorway and looked inside. The church was very quiet now the others had gone home. Hesitantly he stepped inside and looked around. He waited tensely, afraid for a moment they would still be there, the shadows, but there was nothing. The place felt clean and free. The churchyard had been tidied up, the pews stacked at the back of the nave. Tomorrow a van would collect them and they would go into storage until the diocese decided what to do with them. Pub furniture was a favoured option, he had heard. It would raise some much-needed money. Now the nave of the old building was empty it felt much larger than before. Somehow wrong. He pushed the thought aside, turning to face the altar. It was bare but for a plain blue cloth. No cross, no candlesticks, just that hideous old crucifix on the wall below the east window. He shuddered. That would have to go. The young people would hate it. They should have moved it today. Slowly he began to walk up what had been the aisle, the line of it still marked by the dust left on the old paving slabs where the pews had stood for so many years. Strange, that Abi hadn’t liked this idea of clearing the church. As a young new face she ought to represent the young avant-garde wing of the church, against all the ritual and the flummery. He shook his head sadly. How could he have messed up so badly with her? Everything he had said and done she had misunderstood. He shivered. She was strong. Yet she had seen the ghosts. He bit the knuckle of his finger thoughtfully. And she hadn’t seemed to mind. She hadn’t been afraid.

He shook his head. He was beginning to have serious second thoughts about Abi. He had thought her capable, able to cope with any phenomena which manifested here, in the church, but perhaps he was wrong in thinking that was a good thing. Perhaps she was the cause of the unrest. He stared round, his eyes darting here and there into the shadows. Maybe people were right in having reservations about women in the priesthood.

Could he have been so wrong about her? At the beginning he had thought she was everything a good priest should be. Was it his fault she was veering off the path like this? Surely they would have spotted any problems at college when they were first assessing her suitability for the priesthood. He shook his head. Spiritual healing, voices. Superstition. And now ghosts! She had seen the ghosts in here, in this church! He shuddered. He turned round, forcing himself to stay calm. They had gone. No, they had never been here. After all, he had seen nothing. Not really. It was all imagination. It always had been, since he was a child. A residue of nightmares. In a dark old building it was easy to think one had seen things. Nothing but shadows, that was all. His hands were beginning to sweat. He rubbed his face and winced. The bruise where she had hit him hurt. His tooth still felt wobbly. For a while this morning he had thought it was going to fall out. But he shouldn’t have slapped her. That was unforgivable. He had lost his temper and that was not acceptable behaviour. He had prayed for hours last night, trying to see a way through the mess, pleading with God to make her see sense. To make her understand how much he needed her.

The obvious answer of course was that she needed him as much as he needed her. If he could give her the strength to overcome her weaknesses, show her the true path then she would be in a position to help him. Or would she? Would she always be a danger, a threat to his sanity? He had a sudden picture of her clear passionate eyes, her wild hair and he felt another clammy frisson of fear.

There was a sound behind him, a creak from the choir stalls which they had left in place for now. He turned round quickly, listening. Nothing. Then, suddenly, a small rattle as though someone had dropped a coin. He shivered nervously, forcing himself to stand still, trying to pull himself together. Flakes of plaster probably fell now and then from loose patches in the vaulted roof. All their banging and crashing earlier in the day would have shaken the structure a bit. He found himself turning round again, acutely aware of the emptiness around him. It had been fun in here earlier, with the others here. There had been a constant stream of banter and easy conversation and laughter. A couple of people had brought thermoses of coffee. He had forgotten it was a church for a while. It was just a job to be done; a space to be cleared, a re-allocation of resources. When the others had gone he had stayed behind to turn off the lights. Check everything was all right. Lock up. Abi hadn’t come to help of course, but he had hardly expected her to do that after last night. He frowned. He still didn’t understand why she had reacted the way she had when he had kissed her. Women usually found him attractive. He had thought she found him attractive. She always seemed to like his company. Or she had until recently. He sighed and shook his head. He was offering her an awful lot. A home, a future, support. And she needed no end of support, he saw that now.

Another creak from the stalls made him swing round, straining his eyes into the shadows. ‘Hello? Is there anyone there?’ He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. ‘Come on out.’ Even in full sunlight this was a dark church but he could see there was no-one there. Nowhere to hide.

‘Come on! Time to go. I’m about to lock up.’

The silence was almost tangible.

Behind him a light flickered. He swung round to face the altar and gasped. There were two candlesticks on it now, two candles, lit, a lace cloth, a cross. His mouth dry with terror he stared for a long moment, not daring to breathe. Raising his hand at last he reached out and at once the candles vanished. ‘Our Father who art in Heaven,’ he whispered. This was Abi’s doing. She hadn’t wanted them to touch this place. He backed away towards the door. ‘Hallowed be thy name.’ It was her. She had brought evil here with her. That was why she didn’t want him to touch her. That was why she had panicked when he had reached out for her.

There was only one word for what was happening here. Witchcraft.

David Paxman looked at Abi quizzically. ‘I gather you almost knocked out one of his teeth, Abi. That must have been some punch!’

‘He’s spoken to you?’ She clenched her fists again, trying to speak calmly. ‘Did he tell you that he hit me?’

The bishop nodded wearily. ‘He more or less corroborates your story, although he does feel you were out to seduce him from the start. He is also worried as to what exactly you were doing in the church that necessitated the lighting of so many candles.’

‘Candles?’ She felt the colour drain from her face.

‘Candles.’ The bishop sat back and picked up his cup. He was watching her carefully.

‘They weren’t real candles.’ She met his eye defiantly. ‘The church was full of ghosts. There was a choir and a parson and the pews were full and someone was singing the most beautiful solo hymn.’ Uneasily she began to pleat the folds of her skirt between her fingers. ‘And then Kieran arrived and, just like that,’ she clicked her fingers, ‘they disappeared. The church was dark when he came in. Dark and cold and empty.’

‘There was a mention of witchcraft.’ The bishop grinned broadly.

‘Oh, please!’ Abi stood up. ‘I don’t believe it. I suppose that’s because I rejected his advances.’

‘Actually he assumes it helped you lure him against his better judgement.’

‘The vindictive bastard! Does he want me burned at the stake!’

‘Not good Christian sentiments, Abi, but yes, something along those lines.’

‘Well, I’m resigning, remember? So he can take his box of matches somewhere else.’ She sat down again, furiously. ‘He is right about one thing. I was wrong to take holy orders. I accept that now. I have no vocation!’ She stopped abruptly. She hadn’t planned to say that. ‘It’s not just that I am seeing ghosts,’ she went on doggedly, deciding she might as well make a clean breast of things. ‘I’ve been practising the ministry of healing. He doesn’t like that at all, either.’ She paused, then went on. ‘He was so afraid. I don’t know if he was more afraid of the ghosts or of me or of himself. All three, perhaps.’ She shrugged. ‘After I saw him, after I left the church, I don’t know what happened. Perhaps I was in shock, but I was seeing everything differently suddenly.’ She hesitated. ‘The ghosts, everything, have always been there, but I couldn’t quite see them before. I’ve sensed them. I knew there was so much going on that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then suddenly it was as though someone flicked a switch and all the lights came on in my head.’

The bishop said nothing. He waited, his eyes on her face.

‘Everything was glowing. People, houses, trees. It was like looking through some kind of prism; shimmering colours. Everywhere. And people in the streets. People who weren’t there.’ Her voice had dropped to a whisper. It had been incredible, somehow how she imagined it must be the first time or two one got high on drugs. Beyond anything she had ever experienced. She realised the bishop was still watching her closely.

‘People?’ he prompted at last.

‘People in old-fashioned clothes. Ghosts. Like in the church.’ To her embarrassment her eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘I could feel their pain. Their loneliness. Their fear.’

For a moment there was complete silence in the room. Outside in the hall, a phone rang and almost immediately stopped. ‘What’s happened to me?’ She looked up at him pleadingly.

‘I think in modern parlance, Abi, that you are probably suffering from stress,’ he said at last. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘We have been overworking you, that much is clear, and the man who should have been your guide and mentor has betrayed your trust. And mine!’ He paused a little grimly. There was another moment of silence. ‘Can you see those prisms and lights now?’

She shook her head.

‘Any ghosts?’ He was very serious.

She shook her head again.

‘Good.’

‘I spent yesterday praying,’ she went on after a moment. ‘When you couldn’t see me at once, I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I went for a long walk in the country. Up towards Wandlebury Hill. I should have been helping them clear out St Hugh’s but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Kier again. Up there, I made the lights go away. I wouldn’t let them happen. They wanted to. They wanted to show me the past. It’s an ancient site up there, but I somehow controlled them. Out there in the fields they seemed all wrong. Unchristian. Pagan. So, you see why I can’t go on being a priest. Perhaps he has identified my problem. Perhaps I am a witch! You’ll have to accept my resignation. My parents hated me being ordained. My father because he’s an atheist, but my mother, well, you know what she thinks.’ She shrugged. ‘Whatever the reason, they were right.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Your mother told me she lost her faith, Abi, but never why.’ He shrugged. ‘But you are wrong in thinking she didn’t want you to be ordained. She told me it was your choice and she only wanted what was best for you.’ He looked at her pensively. ‘I think, Abi, the best thing would be for you to take a leave of absence for a few weeks while we all calm down and think things over.’

‘You needn’t expect me to think anything over when it comes to Kieran,’ she retorted hotly.

‘And I won’t. But there are other matters to consider.’ The bishop took a deep breath. ‘You are too valuable a member of the team, Abi, to lose you. And so is he. He too has offered to resign. He behaved unforgivably and has infringed every rule in the book regarding his relationship to you. He has put himself as well as you in a very vulnerable position. He will be coming to see me later this evening and in the meantime I think we should all take some time out to pray.’ He paused.

‘I don’t want him to lose his job,’ she said with unexpected meekness. ‘Perhaps he’s right and I did attract him in some way – without realising it. I didn’t mean to. He misunderstood.’

‘Abi, he should have been able to control himself. Put him out of your mind, my dear. I shall deal with him. Now, we must think about you.’

‘You haven’t said. Do you think I’m mad?’

‘Why should I think that?’

‘Seeing ghosts.’

‘I don’t think you’re mad.’ He stood up and held out his hands to her. Automatically she stood up too and after a second’s hesitation put her own into his. ‘I’m going to send you away for a while, Abi. Think of it as a retreat. A chance to pray, to think things over in a safe environment, far away from here. Somewhere you can think about your options and talk them over. Will you do that? Let me make some phone calls and I will contact you.’ ‘And in the meantime I don’t have to meet Kieran?’ ‘No, you don’t have to meet Kieran.’ He smiled. ‘Bless you, my dear. It will all come out all right, I promise you.’