The Reaper

'No, the police. They found it on his bill from Visa. You see, his state of mind on the night he died has to be investigated. There's got to be an inquest. They reckon he was so ashamed after using the sex line that he killed himself.'

'Poor bloke.' She felt guilty now, for laughing.

'He'd marked his bible at some passage about harlots. It was found in the car with a porn mag.'

'That's awful.'

'Of course it won't get out,' Cynthia said. 'They're going to keep it confidential.'

Some chance, with you telling all and sundry, thought Rachel. 'Surely it will have to be made public at the inquest?'

Cynthia was at her most irritating now, airing her supposed inside knowledge. 'There's no need for that. In a case like this, the police tell the coroner ahead of time and he agrees to take certain bits of the evidence as read. It won't affect the verdict. There's enough to show that he meant to commit suicide. I mean, you don't drive your car into a quarry and park it at the top by accident.'

'But they have to show he was depressed.'

'That's no problem usually. Bishops are under a lot of stress. Someone will say he was overworked and worried about his health, or the state of the world. It's the best way to handle a sensitive case like this.'

'Maybe,' said Rachel, not entirely convinced.

'For the sake of the Church.'

'And his family, I reckon. Did he have a wife?'

'No, but there are two sisters in their seventies. They wouldn't want the sordid details in the papers.'

The facts were clear. Little else of substance needed saying, but Cynthia plainly didn't want to leave it.

'Of course, you know why some men want to be humiliated like that, don't you? I've heard the excuse that it goes back to the public school system, canings, and so on, but it goes much deeper than that. It's all about guilt. They're men with troubled consciences. Their minds are filled with lustful thoughts about women, and they feel so guilty that the only remedy is a good thrashing. It's the natural thing, really-for men of that sort, anyway. I don't think women are like that at all. Suffering is built into our lives, our monthly cycles, childbirth. Guys don't have any of that. They need punishing.'

'You sound as if you wouldn't mind dishing some out,' ventured Rachel, as the wine talked.

Cynthia smiled and took another sip, becoming skittish. 'Why not, if they're attractive men? I could name a few bottoms I wouldn't mind beating.'

'Bishops?'

'God, no. They'd be flabby and covered in pimples.'

'Who, then? Name them. You said you would.' Rachel could be just as shameless as Cynthia at stoking up the girl-talk.

'I said I could. I didn't say I would.'

'Go on,' she coaxed her.

Cynthia hid most of her face behind the wineglass. 'Michael Owen, Leonardo DiCaprio, Johnny Depp.'

'I thought you were talking about people we know.'

'I couldn't'

'Couldn't do it or couldn't say?'

'You've made me all flustered now.'

'Never. Attractive men, you said. Are there any in Foxford?'

'Several. All I'm willing to say is that they're under thirty and not at all like the bishop.' Cynthia reached for the bottle and filled her glass again. 'My idea is that they deserve a good beating and have to report to me and bend over my laundry basket for me to administer six of the best. And I make it sting.'

'Wow!' said Rachel. The detail of the laundry basket gave Cynthia's whimsy unexpected substance. This was a full-blown fantasy. 'So what have they done to deserve this?'

'Oh, passed me in their car without offering me a lift. Or ignored me in the village shop.'

'You're very severe.'

Cynthia smirked. 'Only on the ones I secretly fancy. If I'm feeling lenient I wait for a second offence. It's only in my head, so it doesn't really hurt anyone.'

Rachel was imagining some innocent bloke accepting an invitation to a meal in Cynthia's cottage.

'The other day, after the church fete, when you didn't get invited back to the rectory did you …?'

'Take it out on the rector? You bet I did. He got a right seeing-to.'

'Oh, Cynthia!'

'Well, it wasn't very nice of him, considering all the work I do for the church. You're going to tell me it wasn't deliberate, just an oversight, and perhaps it was, but he ought to have thought of me first-well, among the first.'

'Hey,' said Rachel, 'do you think he knows about the bishop? Would they tell him?'

'I'm sure he doesn't. The clergy are the last people they would tell. It might undermine their respect for bishops in general.'

'Or give them ideas.'

'I don't think Otis is in any danger of going the way of the bishop,' said Cynthia. 'I hope not, anyway.'

Yes, ducky, thought Rachel, it would ruin your steamy little fantasy if he enjoyed being whacked.

Soon after, with no sign of another bottle being opened, Cynthia got up and left, no doubt to startle someone else with her privileged information.

Seven

Bad news for the confirmation class. Their service was postponed because of the death of the bishop. Immediately Burton Sands demanded to know why another bishop couldn't take over. The church was an inefficient organisation if it couldn't cope with a sudden death. There were over a hundred diocesan and suffragen bishops in the country and surely one of them could step in.

This bloke is a pain, thought Otis Joy before answering patiently, 'In theory you're right, Burton. There's nothing to stop us inviting another bishop, but this is our diocese, and we think it's rather special, like a family. It wouldn't be the same without our own bishop.'

'But our own bishop died last week. The one who confirms us is going to be a stranger, whoever he is.'

'Or she,' chipped in Ann Porter.

'There's no such thing as a woman bishop in the C of E,' said Neary.

'So what's the delay?' asked Sands, not wanting to get into that debate.

'These things can't be rushed,' said Joy. 'All kinds of consultation has to take place.'

'And praying,' John Neary helpfully reminded him.

'Praying as well, yes.'

'Would you go for it?' Ann Porter asked.

'Go for…?'

'Bishop.'

'Me?' Joy laughed. 'I'm just a baby. They won't take anyone under thirty. That's official. What's more, you have to be of good character.'

'Is that a problem in your case?'

'Major problem, yes. The dean and chapter wouldn't want a serial sinner like me.'

There were smiles all round the class. He was a breath of fresh air, this rector.

Sands chipped in now. He was interested in the age barrier. 'If you're the right man it shouldn't matter how old you are. Big business has the vision to promote young people to top positions, so why shouldn't the Church?'

'Interesting question, and if I wanted someone to fight my corner I'd choose you, Burton, but I'm happy as I am. Bishoping is boring. I steer clear of things that don't excite me much, like committees. I like what I do.'

'Is it really exciting, being Rector of Foxford?' Ann asked.