Here we go, she thought. Here comes the lecture.
‘Not at all,’ he said, and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. ‘As I said, the girls are never forced or coerced into taking the pledge. It’s their choice.’
‘How did Sophie find out about it then?’
He dropped his hands to the table and lowered his eyes. ‘I may have mentioned it to her.’
‘When?’
He shrugged, and his eyes shifted to the window. ‘Maybe about six months ago? I can’t remember exactly.’
‘How many times did you “mention” it to her before she chose to take the pledge?’
He sighed, and refocused his gaze on her. ‘I didn’t force her into it,’ he said, his voice taking on a slightly defensive tone. ‘She asked what work I’d done in the States, so I told her. I explained that the church encouraged the teenage girls in the congregation to take a purity pledge. At some point, I don’t know – maybe, a couple of weeks after that – Sophie came to me and said she’d been doing some research online about it, and wanted to take the pledge. I discussed the ceremony with her parents, and we went from there.’
‘And that went quite a bit further than making a pledge to have no sex until she was married, didn’t it?’
Saddleworth’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. ‘I’m sorry, what do you mean?’
Kay flipped through her notebook. ‘Sophie’s pledge specifically stated that she’d remain chaste until she married Josh Hamilton. They got engaged immediately after she’d taken her pledge.’ She flipped the pages back into place. ‘Is it normal for a girl to name her future husband when taking her pledge?’
Saddleworth coughed, his face turning crimson. ‘It is, er, slightly unusual.’
‘What was behind her including that wording?’
‘You’d have to ask Matthew and Blake about that.’
‘You mentioned Diane Whittaker phoned you and asked you to arrive early, and you said you thought Sophie might be getting “stage fright”. Was she given the option to change her mind?’
‘Change her mind?’
‘Yes. Was she counselled in any way so she knew she could call it off?’
He sat back in his chair, shock on his face. ‘Why on earth would she want to call it off? She and Josh were perfect together.’
Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘Does the diocese know about these ceremonies?’
Duncan cleared his throat. ‘Er, no.’ He fidgeted in his seat, then re-crossed his legs and picked an imaginary piece of lint off his knee. ‘Sophie’s pledge was the first.’
‘What about the rest of your congregation? What do they think about the idea of a purity pledge?’
‘They don’t know,’ he mumbled.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘They don’t know,’ he said, his voice clearer. ‘The Hamiltons and the Whittakers were part of a group of people that preferred to worship separately to the main congregation.’ He regained some of his composure, his voice taking on an air of authority once more. ‘The purity pledge ceremony idea was restricted to that group.’
‘I see.’
Kay closed her notebook and recapped her pen before dropping both into her bag and standing. She held out her hand. ‘Well, Mr Saddleworth, thank you for your time,’ she said. ‘It’s been enlightening.’
He took her hand, and she noted his palms were noticeably warmer than when she’d first met him out in the nave.
‘I’ll see you out,’ he said, and scurried out from behind his desk.
As he pushed open the doors to the church and Kay passed by him into the porch and retrieved her umbrella, she pointed at the noticeboard.
‘There’s a notice missing. What was that for?’
He glanced to where she indicated, and frowned. ‘Oh. I’m not sure.’ He gave her an apologetic smile. ‘We get so many.’
She held his gaze. ‘Think. Was it something to do with Sophie?’
‘I, er—’
‘Go on.’
‘I put a notice up before I left to go to the Whittakers’ house yesterday,’ he said, his shoulders sagging. ‘I thought that given the interest amongst our more private members in the purity pledge, that our main congregation might be keen to get involved so I advertised a meeting to discuss it next week.’ He reached out and straightened an errant flyer above the space before turning back to Kay. ‘After what happened, I thought it would be a good idea to postpone it.’
‘Postpone, or call the whole thing off altogether?’
The pastor had the decency to lower his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘It’ll be up to the Hamiltons and the Whittakers now.’
Twelve
Duncan Saddleworth closed the door behind the police detective, and then leaned forward until his forehead rested against the medieval framework and closed his eyes.
‘Focus,’ he murmured.
He straightened, before hurrying towards the vestry, tugging the white collar at his throat as he passed row upon row of pews.
The figure on the brass crucifix on the altar burned its eyes at his retreat, and Duncan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he resisted the urge to turn back and prostrate himself at its feet.
Instead, he slammed the door to the vestry shut.
He ran his hand under his collar, loosened the top button at the neck of the black shirt and ripped the white collar loose, throwing it across the paper-strewn desk with a low snarl.
Next, he removed the jacket from his shoulders, and crossed the room to a wardrobe next to a plain frosted window. He tugged the curtains across the panes, then hung the jacket on a coat hanger and undid his suit trousers.
He redressed quickly in jeans and a grey sweatshirt, ran his hand through his hair in the absence of a comb, and shut the wardrobe door. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and was taken aback at how scared he looked.
Sunlight now streamed through the stained-glass window that overlooked his desk. The glasswork was a modern design compared to the rest of the church, added along with the vestry extension in the late eighteenth century and ugly, in his opinion. It jarred his sentimental longing for something more traditional, but those days
