Evil Angels Among Them (13 page)

It was at that moment that Enid arrived. They all knew her well enough to realise, as she swooped down upon them in the chancel, that she had something significant to impart, and they weren't disappointed.

‘What do you think?' she began breathlessly. ‘I've just had a phone call from my Jamie.' She paused for maximum effect.

Doris rather spoiled the moment. ‘Where
is
Jamie?' she queried. ‘I would have thought he'd be home for Easter.'

Her sister spared her a brief dirty look before going on. ‘Jamie is spending the holiday at Hollingsworth Park with Lord Hollingsworth and his family. He's just announced his engagement to Charlotte Hollingsworth! They're going to be married!'

David and Lucy arrived in Walston rather later that morning than they'd planned, having taken an unintentional detour, but they decided to stop at the church on their way to the Rectory. ‘It's such a beautiful sunny morning,' David pointed out. ‘The church will look spectacular with the sun coming in through that marvellous medieval east window.'

‘Will it be open?'

‘These East Anglian churches are always open,' David predicted confidently. ‘It seems mad to Londoners, but I've yet to find a locked church in Norfolk.'

He was right on both counts: St Michael's was open, and it looked magnificent in the spring sunlight. Stepping into the church, Lucy almost gasped aloud. ‘It's wonderful!'

‘The quality of light is quite incredible.' David gave her a moment to drink it all in, then pointed out a few things from their vantage point at the west end. ‘Over the chancel arch,' he indicated with his finger, ‘you can just about see the medieval Doom painting. It was whitewashed out and the royal coat of arms painted over it, but over the years it's begun to re-emerge, as the arms have flaked off. See the devils on the one side, dragging sinners off to hell, and the angels on the other, receiving the blessed into eternal bliss?'

‘It's wonderful,' she repeated.

‘Do you like them angels on the roof?' Harry Gaze had spotted the visitors and lost no time in hurrying up to them.

‘Wonderful,' Lucy echoed once again.

‘I reckon you'd like to see the rest of our treasures.'

David would have preferred to show Lucy round himself, but recognised the inevitability of Harry's guided tour and gave in gracefully. ‘Yes, of course.'

He took them down the centre aisle at a good pace and would have led them straight into the chancel, but David paused at the chancel gates and pointed the screen out to Lucy. ‘Take a close look at the panels. The Puritans painted them over with Protestant texts, but there are saints underneath.'

She scrutinised the painted panels and was thrilled to find the faint but unmistakable outlines of figures under the fading blackletter texts.

‘You can tell who they are by their attributes,' he showed her. ‘See, this one has a scallop shell, so it must be St James. And the one with the chalice is St John the Evangelist.'

Harry Gaze regarded him with suspicion. ‘How is it that you know so much about this church?'

‘Oh, I've been here once or twice,' David explained, adding diplomatically, ‘but of course we're anxious to learn all you have to tell us.'

Mollified, Harry led them into the chancel and gave them the benefit of the full story of King John's chair. Lucy looked questioningly at David once or twice, but with an almost imperceptible shake of his head he directed her attention back to the verger, realising the folly – and the futility – of questioning Harry Gaze's version of history.

‘Are you interested in the monuments?' Harry queried hopefully when the tale of Bad King John had been told and the medieval east window had been admired. ‘The Lovelidge family, them as was lords of the manor for nigh on to four hundred years, is all buried here in the church, and some of their monuments are wholly interesting.'

‘Yes, of course,' David assented, following him to the Lady Chapel. ‘You see,' he whispered to Lucy. ‘Comper – I told you he'd redone the chapel.'

The flower arrangers, having finished in the chancel, were now concentrating their efforts on the chapel, but they looked up with interest as the visitors entered. Enid noted for later discussion the pleasant-looking brown-haired man of average height and build and the extremely attractive woman with him, slightly younger, beautifully dressed, and with shoulder-length curls of an extraordinary colour as they caught the light which streamed through the east window.

‘This here Lovelidge, Sir John he was, had three wives, and all of them named Sarah,' Harry pointed out. ‘He must have been wholly fond of that name, but I would of thought it might of been wholly confusing.'

‘How odd,' remarked Lucy. ‘What a coincidence.'

‘Gentleman of the Bedchamber to King Charles II,' David read from the monument. ‘Quite an important man, it would seem.'

Mindful of the number of women within earshot, Harry toned down the suggestive remark that he would have indulged in had David been alone, contenting himself with a wink in David's direction as he repeated, ‘Gentleman of the Bedchamber, indeed. And twenty-three children to show for it.'

Enid produced a disapproving sniff and gave the extravagantly curled wig of the eighteenth-century Sir John a reflective pat. ‘Speaking of coincidences,' she interjected, seeing her opportunity, ‘this Sir John Lovelidge was married to Augusta, daughter of Lord Hollingsworth. See, it says it right here. And my grandson Jamie is engaged to Charlotte Hollingsworth, daughter of the current Lord Hollingsworth. They've just announced it. Isn't that an amazing coincidence?' This coincidence had already been pointed out to Doris, Marjorie and Flora, but she felt it worth disseminating to a wider audience.

Lucy made the appropriate congratulatory response and Enid beamed. Oblivious to Harry's glower at having his monopoly of the visitors infringed, she edged closer to them. ‘Visiting Walston, are you?' she asked in a chatty manner, stating the obvious.

‘We've just come up from London,' David replied. It occurred to him that this might provide a useful opportunity to meet a few of Stephen's parishioners before their connection to the Rector became known, so he went on quickly, ‘And we thought for a while that we weren't going to make it. We went off the main road one turning too soon, at Nether Walston, only to discover that you can't get to Walston from there. We wandered round for quite a while before we got back to the main road.'

‘My fault,' Lucy put in with a rueful shake of her head. ‘I'm not a very good navigator.'

‘Nether Walston!' Enid sniffed. ‘No reason to go there from here, is there? Not a very nice place.'

‘Nasty,' agreed Doris, joining in.

Harry took it upon himself to explain. ‘Folks from Walston have never got on with folks from Nether Walston. Not for hundreds of years, since Dowsing's men came and busted up our windows, and afterwards them folks in Nether Walston fed and watered them. Not a neighbourly way to behave.'

‘And,' said Enid indignantly, more concerned with slights within living memory, ‘a few years ago they won the Best Kept Village competition when anyone with eyes in their head could see that we were better. I'm sure the judges were bribed.'

Flora entered the conversation. ‘It's not really so bad,' she dissented, directing her remarks to David and Lucy. ‘Though it
is
difficult to get there from Walston. I go there quite regularly for my work.'

‘
I
wouldn't go there,' Enid stated with magisterial conviction, as though that ended the discussion.

Doris, like younger sisters the world over, knew exactly how to needle her. ‘But didn't Jamie work there?' she asked, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘I was sure he had a summer job there a year or two back. Didn't he, Enid?'

It had the desired effect. Enid scowled at her sister and replied in a clipped voice. ‘Only because there weren't any jobs going in Walston.'

‘He tried to get taken on at Ingram's, I remember, but they wouldn't have him.' Doris couldn't hide her satisfaction; she was tired of having the Hollingsworth connection shoved down her throat and she savoured this moment of revenge. ‘If he wants a job there this summer, Ernest can put in a word for him. They think ever such a lot of Ernest at Ingram's.'

‘Don't be ridiculous!' Enid snapped. ‘Jamie hardly needs a job at Ingram's now that he's going to marry Charlotte Hollingsworth!'

Flora, embarrassed by the sisterly squabbling, tried to distract Enid. ‘So he'll be spending the summer at Hollingsworth Park then?'

‘Most of it, I should think.' Enid nodded, somewhat mollified.

‘I know Hollingsworth Park well,' Flora said in an aside to David and Lucy. ‘I lived near there for some years.'

‘Oh, in Shropshire?' Lucy turned to her with a smile. ‘I grew up in Shropshire myself. Near Ludlow.'

That sparked off an animated exchange in which they tried to establish whether they shared any mutual acquaintances. Before they were able to discover any, though, Harry interrupted in an attempt to regain their attention. ‘Do you see that armour?' he said loudly, pointing to an ancient breastplate and helmet which hung on the stone wall above one of the Lovelidge tombs. ‘It belonged to one of the younger Lovelidge sons as was a soldier and fought at Naseby. That armour has been there ever since he died, from that day to this. And do you know what?' He paused impressively, waiting until he had everyone's attention before he continued. ‘The story has it, that if that armour ever falls down, there will be a violent death in Walston!'

* * *

David and Lucy hadn't made it to the wedding; they hadn't seen Stephen and Becca since the previous summer when matters had been anything but pleasant for either of them. Given the circumstances of their summons to Walston, they were expecting to find Stephen, at least, in a depressed state of mind, but they were surprised at how low they both seemed.

Stephen took David into his study for a long talk in the afternoon while Lucy accompanied Becca on a shopping expedition. Later in the guest room, after a dispirited evening meal, David and Lucy compared notes, their own problems pushed into the background.

‘His parishioners are obviously a real pain in the posterior,' David said, shaking his head. ‘All this nonsense about withholding Quota and sacking the organist. It's really getting to him, poor chap. But I can't help feeling there's more to it than he's told me.'

‘And Becca,' Lucy put in. ‘She's a loyal wife, of course, but surely her husband's parochial problems couldn't be affecting her to such an extent. Did you see the dark circles under her eyes? She looks terrible and she seems so nervous and jumpy.'

David was pacing while Lucy sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Did you ask her what the matter is?'

‘I couldn't ask her directly, of course.' Thoughtfully Lucy twisted a curl round her finger. ‘But I tried to tell her that if she wanted to talk to me about anything, I would be happy to listen. I had the feeling that she really wanted to tell me something but couldn't quite bring herself to do it.'

‘Stephen was the same,' David observed. ‘He was very forthcoming about the parish problems, but shied away from talking about anything personal. I made some little joke about the happy newlyweds and he flinched as if I'd struck him. There's something very wrong there, Lucy love.'

She couldn't resist a barbed comment. ‘And that's after three months of marriage!'

Not feeling equal to shifting the battleground, David ignored the remark and its implications. ‘Don't forget, love, that Becca is very young. It may be taking her a while to adjust.'

‘And,' Lucy added thoughtfully, ‘it's less than a year since her father was murdered. If anyone can be said to deserve such a fate, it was Becca's father, but it was still a great shock for her. She was always so dependent on him for approval. Somehow, though, I think there's more to it than that.'

David nodded. ‘I'm sure you're right. I just wish there was something we could do to help them.'

‘What about Stephen's parish problems? Couldn't you give him any advice about them?'

He shook his head. ‘Not really, at least as far as withholding the Quota. I'm afraid the churchwardens really
do
have a great deal of power in making policy decisions, especially if they're able to sway the PCC to their way of thinking. The Rector's hands are pretty much tied unless he has the sort of personality to bully everyone into giving him his way.'

‘Like Becca's father,' Lucy put in dryly.

‘Exactly. But, as we know, Stephen isn't like that. He's far too reasonable a chap and works by consensus.'

‘What about sacking the organist? Becca explained a bit of the situation to me, but I can't say that I understand what's going on.'

David sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. ‘It seems he's an excellent musician, but most of the congregation resent him for various reasons – because he's an outsider, I suspect, and because he hasn't made any effort to mingle or to integrate himself into the community as much as for anything he's done musically. But in this instance Stephen
does
have a bit more going for him. Legally, the organist is employed by the Rector, not by the PCC, and they can't get rid of him unless Stephen wants to. So I'd say that in spite of the hate campaign against him, the organist's job is quite secure.'

‘That must have made Stephen feel better.'

‘I suppose.' Restless, David got up again and went to the window. ‘The other thing that's bothering him, of course, is the election of the new churchwarden. He feels so helpless that he's not being allowed to choose his own warden.'

‘But I thought he
could
do that – you told me before that he could appoint one warden and allow the parish to elect the other.'