The Snares of Death (22 page)

‘Modern Roman Practice. Yes.' She handed him a cup of tea, made just as he liked it.

‘Better than a “clap hands for Jesus” Evangelical, I should have thought.'

‘Only just, if you can believe it. We haven't really got on very well, the new Vicar and I. And now . . . well,' Daphne paused, sighed, ‘I'm being given the push.'

David stared, aghast. ‘Your job?'

‘Yes. He doesn't really need a Sacristan. And if he did . . .' She smiled ruefully. ‘But our differences are irrelevant. He doesn't need a Sacristan. He's getting rid of all the lovely old vestments, the altar hangings . . . It's just like you said before he came. Lambswool ponchos, and spider plants on the altar.'

‘The silver?' he asked fearfully.

‘Most of it has scarcely been out of the safe since he arrived. He uses those great fat stumpy candles, a pair of them on one side of the altar to balance the spider plants. No candlesticks, of course. And he prefers pottery chalices – against all hygiene considerations, as well as against all taste.'

‘And your flat . . . ?'

‘The flat goes with the job, of course.'

David looked at her searchingly. ‘And so you're marrying Cyril.'

‘Yes.' Again she was unable to meet his eyes. ‘He has asked me to marry him. He's been lonely ever since his wife died, nearly fifteen years ago. As long as Emily was around, he could keep himself occupied following her about, but since she and Gabriel left St Anne's, even though she's still in London . . . well, he's been spending more and more time here. Dropping by, just to talk. We get on well.'

‘But
marriage
, Daphne! It's such a big step! It will mean a lot of changes in your life. Are you sure it's what you really want?'

She looked into her teacup. ‘I believe that we can be happy,' she answered at last. ‘Things
do
change, David. Life changes, whether you want it to or not. It might not be exactly what I would have wanted,' she added softly, then rushed on, ‘but it's what I've been given. A chance at happiness, from an unexpected direction. And I mean to make the best of it.' She raised her eyes to his at last, almost defiantly.

David expelled a deep breath. ‘Well,' he said after a moment, ‘I certainly hope you're right about this. And I wish you all the best,' he added warmly.

‘Thanks, David.' She grinned at him then, relieved that it was out in the open. ‘And now – what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?'

While he was away, Lucy had prepared a simple but delicious supper for them, and he'd picked up a bottle of wine on his way back. Daphne's startling announcement was the main topic of conversation during the meal.

‘So I needn't have worried about telling her about us,' David concluded ruefully.

‘She took it well?'

‘It was a bit of an anti-climax after
her
news.' He shook his head. ‘I still can't believe it. Daphne, getting married for the first time at her age. There's hope for me yet!'

Lucy ignored the provocation. ‘Well,' she said, ‘it fits in nicely with an idea I had while you were away. I was thinking that it would be good for us to give a dinner party. We could have it in honour of Daphne and Cyril.'

‘A dinner party? Here?'

‘Of course here.' She smiled at him almost shyly. ‘I thought that it would be nice for us to entertain as a couple. To let people – our friends – get used to the idea of us being together.'

‘What a marvellous idea!' He returned her smile as he pictured the scene: Lucy's dining room, silver glinting in candlelight, wine sparkling, delicious food, scintillating conversation . . . ‘But who else would we invite?'

Considering, she pushed her hair from her face. ‘I suppose we could invite Emily and Gabriel. If we gave them plenty of advance notice, that is – since he's become Archdeacon, the Angel Gabriel's diary is rather full! I suppose,' she added, laughing, ‘that I should more properly say the Venerable Angel Gabriel!'

David didn't laugh. ‘Yes . . .'

She looked at his reluctant face in surprise. ‘You don't seem keen, darling! I thought that you liked Emily.'

‘Yes, I like Emily very much.'

‘Then what's the problem? Oh, I know that the Angel Gabriel can be a bit hard to take at times, but –' Lucy studied him intently as he averted his face. ‘What is it, David?'

‘I've tried to tell you this before but you wouldn't let me,' he said defensively. ‘You must know that I loved someone else . . . once. Before.'

‘I had rather guessed that.' She smiled, and squeezed his hand reassuringly across the table. ‘I don't even think I get any prizes for guessing that it was a man. I don't mind, darling. Honestly, I don't. But why . . . ?'

David still wouldn't look at her. ‘It was . . . it was Gabriel.'

‘Oh.' She sounded surprised, he thought, and less than pleased. ‘Gabriel.'

‘He was the only one. Ever. It was a long time ago,' he added quickly. ‘Long before I met you. Before he met Emily, even. When I . . . we . . . lived in Brighton. He hurt me, and . . . it took me a long while to get over it. Years.' It was very important that he make her understand, so he chose his words carefully. ‘It was unresolved – that was the problem. I never knew why . . . it had ended so suddenly, and I just couldn't let go. But now – now it's over. Completely. I've moved on. You're everything to me now, Lucy. Do you understand?'

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. She understood. At last, she understood a great deal.

CHAPTER 28

    
Behold, how good and joyful a thing it is: brethren, to dwell together in unity!

Psalm 133.1

If the BARC meetings got much bigger than this, Rhys reflected, they'd have to start looking for new premises. The capacity of his office on the first floor of the house was just about stretched to its limits with the eight people – and one large dog – who were there on this Saturday evening in the middle of April.

BARC was growing by leaps and bounds, thought Rhys: three new converts. He studied them with interest in the few moments of preliminary chitchat before the meeting got down to business. Karen, the tiny, childish-looking blonde with the ridiculous corkscrew curls, was sitting in a chair, her hands folded in her lap, looking withdrawn and miserable. Maggie had been at her already – she'd laid into her about the perm, accused her of aiding and abetting animal testing, being an accessory after the fact to the murder of innocent laboratory animals. The girl hadn't known how to defend herself, and her tender heart had been horrified by her own sins of ignorance. Rhys would have to try to compensate somehow for Maggie's bluntness, try to make Karen feel better. She was such a vulnerable-looking little thing, no match at all for Maggie.

The other pair were interesting. They'd come together, and they shared a clean-cut wholesomeness, though the girl, Becca, was a real beauty. Sitting close together on the small sofa, they were both very smartly clad; Toby actually wore a white shirt and a tie under his jumper. Such sartorial splendour was a novelty in what had always been – apart from Fiona's stylish elegance – a casually dressed group. They seemed odd candidates for BARC – what had brought them here? he wondered. Idealism, like himself ? Tender-hearted sentimentality, like Karen? Certainly not dyed-in-the-wool activism, like Maggie or Gary. Perhaps it was youthful rebellion against parental values and authority, like Nicholas; it had not escaped Rhys's notice that Becca's surname was Dexter, though he hoped that Maggie had not made the connection. Or perhaps, he thought, catching Fiona's eye as she smiled at him, it was simpler than that: perhaps it was love. Perhaps they just wanted an excuse to be together. Becca Dexter had that indefinable sparkle of a woman in love, unless his imagination was running riot. And that colour in Toby's cheeks – certainly the room wasn't that warm . . .

Nicholas, sprawled on the floor stroking Bleddyn, grinned at Rhys in anticipation: this was going to be his big night. Maggie was pointedly ignoring Nicholas, talking instead to Gary. At last Rhys judged that it was time to begin.

After he'd officially welcomed the newcomers, Rhys turned to Nicholas. ‘I think you have something to tell us,' he invited.

The boy jumped up with alacrity, his long hair flopping. He spun round to face the assembled group and announced, ‘The new van has arrived!'

‘Huh.' Maggie looked bored. ‘I thought it was going to be something important,' she muttered to Gary.

Nicholas ignored her. ‘It's parked not far away. We can all go and look at it, if you'd like,' he suggested.

‘At the end of the meeting,' Rhys amended. ‘First we need to talk about what we're going to do with it. I must say,' he added, ‘that I've seen it, and it's a splendid vehicle. We owe Nicholas a great deal of thanks for his generosity in providing it.'

Maggie studied her fingernails. Karen looked up and dared to open her mouth. ‘Could I ask, what is it for?' she piped timidly.

‘I'm sorry. Karen, and Becca and Toby, you don't know about the van. Nicholas has purchased it, and had it all fitted out so that we can take it around the countryside. BARC, as you all know,' he amplified, ‘is primarily an educational organisation. We're in business to inform people about animals, and remind people of our responsibilities to them. This van will be a great help to us in doing that. It's distinctive-looking – our logo is painted on the side. And it has space in it for all our brochures, and informational bumf. It's even big enough to sleep in, and it has basic kitchen facilities. The idea is that someone – Nicholas, probably' – the young man grinned and nodded – ‘will drive the van around and disseminate the information wherever and however possible. He'll be able to go anywhere in the country, really, and be gone for days at a time.'

‘Sounds like a great idea,' Toby ventured shyly.

‘A waste of money,' Maggie grumbled, but Rhys silenced her with a stern look.

‘We think so. We'd like to try it out fairly close to home at first, so that several of us can go along and learn the ropes. I think that it would be good if we all knew how to drive it, and so forth.'

‘Let's face it, man – there's a lot of educating to be done around here,' Gary agreed in a rare outburst of verbiage. ‘With all the battery farms,' he looked apologetically at Nicholas, ‘and the testing labs, and the hunting and shooting that goes on.'

Karen's lip trembled. ‘The seals,' she whispered. ‘The baby seals.'

Maggie looked at her scornfully. ‘No one's killing seals off Blakeney Point.'

For once, Karen refused to be intimidated into silence. ‘Well, bunnies, then. And poor little foxes.'

Casting her eyes up to heaven in disbelief, Maggie shrugged expressively. ‘Where do you find these people, Rhys?'

‘That's quite enough from you, Maggie. We're very happy to have Karen with us.' His voice was sharp; since Maggie's ill-advised ‘liberation' of the Fielding Farm's chickens he had little patience with her histrionics.

‘So where are we going with the van?' Nicholas interposed quickly. ‘Any ideas?'

‘Well,' Becca spoke for the first time, ‘if you're looking for somewhere round here, not too far . . .'

‘Yes?' Rhys encouraged.

‘There's a big field near my father's church,' she offered naively, without thinking of the consequences. ‘There would be plenty of space to park the van, and even to camp out if the weather was nice . . .'

Toby looked at her with some surprise; he didn't think it was the sort of enterprise that Bob Dexter would be very keen to support. But Becca seemed able to talk her father into just about anything, he'd discovered. If anyone could get around Bob Dexter, it was Becca.

‘That sounds like a very good idea,' approved Rhys. ‘In a few weeks' time the weather ought to be warm enough for camping. We could
all
go, then – or those of us that were willing and able. A trial run. The first week of May, do you think?'

‘Sounds great!' Nicholas enthused. ‘And now – how about going out and having a look?'

CHAPTER 29

    
Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear: forget also thine own people, and thy father's house.

Psalm 45.11

Contrary to the expectations of Alice Barnes and Gwen Vernon, the world had not come to an end with the arrival of Bob Dexter in South Barsham. Indeed, over a month into the new regime, life at St Mary's had settled down into a routine which, though different, was tolerable. Alice and Gwen found that there were even compensations for the presence of the odious Bob Dexter: they had quickly come to love Elayne, and Becca was a delight. It gave them perverse pleasure to spend as much time as they could with the two Dexter women, knowing that Bob Dexter would certainly not approve – if he knew.

The consuming worry of their lives, at the moment, was the monstrance. Sooner or later he was going to discover that it was missing, and then there would, so to speak, be hell to pay.

It had been easy enough to take it, even without their church key. Father Mark had kept his key – Bob Dexter had never thought to demand its return – and he hadn't asked any awkward questions when they'd asked to borrow it. ‘Certainly, ladies,' he'd said with a bland smile. ‘I know that I can trust you with it.'

‘I told you we shouldn't have taken it,' Gwen moaned as they were tidying the sitting room, one Saturday morning near the end of April.

‘No, you didn't!' Alice snapped. ‘Don't give me that! You were in favour of taking it!'

‘But he's going to find out!' Nervously she tugged on a lock of her golden wig, setting it slightly askew.