‘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.’
4
The Reverend Ben Cavendish pulled out a chair and sat himself down at the kitchen table in Woodley Manor, looking first at his sister-in-law and then at his brother. There was a strong family likeness, the two men tall, with rugged outdoor complexions and greying pepper and salt hair, Ben some five years older than his brother. ‘I know it is a great favour to ask, especially of you, Cal, but I think she could be useful to you both,’ he said gently. It was no secret in the family that some catastrophic investments by his advisers had reduced Mat’s pension to almost nothing. ‘The diocese will pay and as she might be here a while it will work out far more than your average occasional B & B guest who only stays one night. And if she stayed here, rather than with me and Janet, she could do a bit in the garden, maybe help you sort out what you want to do with the designs if you go ahead with this plan to open to the public. Her mother is Laura Rutherford.’
His brother, Mat, looked blank. It was Cal who reacted.
Ben nodded.
‘But the daughter is a vicar, not a garden designer, Ben! It doesn’t mean she knows anything about gardening!’ Mat protested.
Ben shrugged. ‘She must have watched her mother at some point, surely. And even if she didn’t, it must be in her genes there somewhere, mustn’t it?’ He gave a disingenuous smile. ‘David wants her to have a complete break. She’s had some kind of awful experience with the man she works with. Her first job, she hasn’t even had her own parish yet, and the so and so jumped on her. She wants to resign but the bishop says she’ll make a good pastor; he doesn’t want to lose her so he has decided to send her down to us here to revisit her roots in Somerset. We’ve got to soothe her and reassure her and I’m to be her spiritual adviser. But David is anxious I shouldn’t ram the whole pastoral experience down her throat at the moment, so I thought it might be better to suggest she stay here, based away from the Rectory.’
Cal smiled. ‘Reading between the lines, she’s obviously a looker and Janet has said, “not in my house thank you very much otherwise she might set her cap at my husband too”!’
Ben grinned. ‘Something like that maybe, yes. You know my wife. But to be fair, David did say she looked as though she needed feeding up. That is your department, Cal, as you cook like an angel.’
Cal chose to ignore the compliment. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean she’s anorexic as well as sexy.’
Mat threw back his head and laughed. ‘I doubt it. If I remember right, David Paxman likes his women curvy.’ He clapped his hand to his mouth in mock horror. ‘Sorry, I didn’t say that. It’s unfair to remember a bishop when he was a boy and the terror of the whole neighbourhood.’
‘You’re right, though,’ Ben put in soberly. ‘It does tend to get between one and all the mystique we’re supposed to feel! That’s why I could never be in his diocese. Quite apart from that, though, you clearly haven’t put two and two together! Laura Rutherford was none other than little Lally Purvis from up near Priddy. So we all knew each other in the old days.’ He grinned. ‘Abi is practically family. And we are far enough away from her tormentor here on the other side of the country for her to feel safe.’
Mat sighed. ‘So how can we refuse. When will she arrive?’ He glanced at his wife. ‘We will have her, right?’
She nodded. ‘Of course we’ll have her. There is always room for another pair of hands, and if she tries to seduce my husband, she’s welcome to him!’ She punched him on the shoulder.
‘Good, because she’ll be here within the week,’ Ben said.
In the event it was to be much longer. The next day, Ben took a call from the bishop. When it was over he put down the phone and stared blankly at his wife. ‘I can’t believe it. Laura Rutherford is dead.’
Janet came over and sat down next to him. ‘She can’t be. She is a relatively young woman!’
Ben glanced at his wife and sighed. Her reaction was typical. He was sure she didn’t mean it that way, but as usual her response to unexpected bad news was to be indignant at a perceived inconvenience rather than instantly sympathetic. He frowned. She was looking particularly elegant today. She was on her way to a coffee morning in Wells and had been to the hairdresser only the day before. It was obviously a ‘smart casual’ affair of the kind his wife spent hours dolling up for, to end up looking so far from casual that it hurt. Well, poor Laura was not going to be an inconvenience to her and neither by the look of things now, was her daughter.
‘Laura had a congenital heart defect, apparently.’ He shook his head. ‘David said she had only found out a few months ago that there was something wrong. They thought she would be OK with the right medication, but…’ He shrugged. ‘Poor Abi. She knew nothing about her mother’s condition. It’s been the most awful shock. On top of all her other problems.’
The room still smelled the same. Of paint and flowers. Abi sat down on the chaise-longue and lifted a corner of the Spanish shawl, holding it up to her face. The house felt so empty. Downstairs, her father was sitting in his study, staring at the wall. It had been the same every day since the funeral, the horrible, godless funeral he had insisted on at the City Crematorium.
She had offered to stay on for a while and taken his shrug to signal acquiescence. She sighed. She didn’t know how to comfort him. She couldn’t talk to him about the certainties that shored up her own faith; she couldn’t even mention them. She wanted to hug him; even more she wanted him to hug her. When she was a child they had been so close. Her mother’s warmth and affection had enveloped them both, filled the whole house. That had made it so much harder when God had entered the frame. Her father’s fury, his uncomprehending indignation, his assumption that she had rejected him and everything he stood for out of some perverse need to pursue a personal vendetta, bewildered her. Even now he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. When she had made coffee and toast for them both this morning he had taken a cup and a plate without a word and carried them to his study, closing the door behind him.
Abi walked over to the window and pushed it open, resting her elbows on the sill.
‘Give him time, darling.’ Her mother’s voice seemed to come from the room behind her! Abi swung round. ‘Mummy?’
The room was empty. Of course it was empty. And yet…
‘Mummy?’ she whispered again. ‘Are you there?’
There was no reply.
She stood for a moment longer without moving, then slowly and thoughtfully she went over to the chest of drawers which stood against the opposite wall and kneeling down she dragged open the bottom drawer. The tin box was where her mother had put it, wedged at the back amongst all kinds of boxes and packages and folders of newspaper cuttings. One day it would be up to her to sort through all her mother’s possessions. But not now. It was too soon. Too painful. Easing out the box she carried it over to the table and putting it down she stood looking at it for a long time. Had her mother realised that she was going to die? Obviously she had known she was ill, but wouldn’t she have said something if she had realised how gravely? Carefully she pulled off the lid. ‘You were going to tell me about this,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Why did you change your mind? What is so special about this lump of rock?’ Unfolding the cloth in which it was wrapped she looked down at it. The uppermost opaque crystal face gleamed softly and she ran her finger over it experimentally. It was cold; inert. Cautiously she lifted it out of the box and laid it on the table. Exposed like this she could see it in more detail. It was a roughly spherical lump of pure crystal with some two thirds of the surface exposed, parts of it crazed and cloudy, some of it clear as glass. The rest was hidden by the rock casing from which it had been hewn.
