The Cure of Souls

‘Anything to do with your forlorn and possibly unrequited love for the Reverend Watkins?’

Lol sighed. ‘Good old Prof.’

‘Yeah, yeah, he called in at the vicarage before he left for London. And then, lo, she rang me herself. Apologetic, in case she’d said something to the press that might have offended me.’

Lol went still. ‘Merrily?’

‘I truly hope your friend has the sense not to get involved. You don’t have any influence there, I suppose?’

‘I’m a songwriter, Simon. I write songs.’

‘And don’t you go making any silly connections between some doped-up woman and the Lady of the Bines.’

‘Am I allowed to write a song about it?’

Simon made a thoughtful, sibilant sound through his teeth. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’m going to tell you the truth about the Lady of the Bines, OK?’

Lol sat down again.

‘According to the legend,’ Simon said, ‘if you see her, your hops will start to wither before the season’s out. Right?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Once the Wilt hits somebody’s yards, the old codgers in the pub will start muttering about the Lady. You’ll have seen the signs: Keep Out. Danger of Infection. Most big yards have them. The Wilt’s voracious and it can be carried by people just walking in and out of a field. Most people observe the restrictions. Kids, though, are another matter. Always been a problem keeping kids out. And I guess that’s why they made up the story.’

‘Made it up? Who made it up?’

‘They did. I don’t know who, but it’s bollocks, Lol!’ Simon threw out his arms; you could almost see the bat wings of a surplice. ‘The story was made up to scare kids away from the hop-yards. The history of hops in Herefordshire doesn’t go back as far as the days of knights and ladies.’

‘Sally Boswell was spinning me a line?’

‘Maybe she made it up. She’s a clever lady; she’s been around long enough.’ Simon had picked up his bow and was tapping it against his leg like a riding crop. ‘This is the country, Lol. In the country, in certain situations, everybody lies.’

13 Question of Diplomacy

ALTHOUGH SHE WORKED for the Bishop and the Church of England, in essence Sophie Hill served the Cathedral. If you confided in her, only God and those medieval stones would ever know.

She was not exactly a mother-figure – just that little bit too austere – and certainly not an older sister. Agony aunt would probably get closer. Merrily wondered how many perplexed priests in a crisis of faith, or facing divorce or the prospect of being outed as gay had, over the years, consulted Sophie before – or instead of – bishops and deans and archdeacons.

‘Except, I should have done something,’ Merrily insisted. ‘From the start, Huw Owen always used to stress that, regardless of our own opinions, we should never leave the premises without —’

‘Merrily – seriously – how could you?’ Sophie handed her tea in a white china cup. ‘If the girl herself wouldn’t have anything to do with you, and if the mother felt unable to take you completely into her confidence—’

‘She took bloody Dennis into her confidence.’

‘Only because the girl had accused you of threatening her – transparent nonsense which, in my view, throws immediate doubt on her casting of Jane as the instigator.’

Merrily paused, with the cup at her lips. ‘You don’t see Jane involved in this?’

‘There was a time, not too long ago,’ Sophie conceded, ‘when there was very little of which I would have acquitted Jane without a number of serious questions. But no. There’s an element of… malevolence here. Not that I think she was ever malevolent but, with younger children, mischief and maliciousness can be horribly interwoven, and I rather think she’s grown beyond that stage.’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘All the same, you do need to speak to her without delay. Where is she now?’

‘On holiday, with her boyfriend’s—with Eirion’s family. In Pembrokeshire.’

‘Can you contact her on the phone?’

‘If I can’t,’ Merrily said, ‘I’ll be driving down there tonight.’

‘Don’t overreact.’

‘Sophie, I’ve just been accused of menacing a juvenile!’

‘Accused by the juvenile.’

‘I wasn’t aware of Dennis Beckett immediately springing to my defence.’

‘No. But then, Canon Beckett was hardly vociferous in support of the ordination of women.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘I’ll make you a list sometime.’ Sophie pushed the phone across the desk to her.

‘Merrily!’ Gwennan squealed. ‘How marvellous it is to hear from you again!’

They’d spoken twice on the phone but never actually met. She hadn’t met Eirion’s father, either, the Cardiff- based business consultant, fixer, member of many quangos and chairman of the Broadcasting Council for Wales. Gwennan was his second wife.

‘Erm… I just wanted a very quick word with Jane, please,’ Merrily said. ‘Something she might have forgotten to tell me before she left.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Gwennan. ‘You’ve just missed her. She’s just this minute taken the children to the beach.’

‘What time will she be back?’

‘Oh heavens… I don’t know really. The problem is, Merrily, that Dafydd and I have a lunch appointment in Haverfordwest, so we won’t be seeing Eirion and Jane until tonight. They’ve taken the children out for the day. Isn’t she marvellous with children?’

Merrily blinked. ‘She is?’

‘What I’ll do, I’ll leave a note in case they come back earlier. Though, knowing Jane, she’ll have too much planned for them all. But she’ll definitely call you tonight, I’ll make sure of it.’

‘If you would. It’s nothing vital, just something I need to check. She’s actually looking after the children, then? Young children?’

‘Eight and eleven,’ Gwennan said. ‘She’s wonderful with them. You don’t have any other children of your own, do you? I expect that’s what it is.’

Merrily put down the phone to the sound of heavy footsteps and puffing on the stairs: the Bishop returning, after seeing Dennis Beckett to his car. He came in and closed the door.

‘I’ve told him to keep this to himself, naturally.’

‘Don’t feel you have to protect me,’ Merrily said bitterly. ‘If it turns out to be remotely true about Jane, I’ll be out of here before you can say Deuteronomy.’

‘Merrily, the very last—’ The Bishop glanced around to make sure the door was firmly shut, then sat down opposite her at Sophie’s desk. ‘The very last thing I want is to lose you from Deliverance because of something —’

‘Bernie, if this is true, I’ll have to leave the parish, the diocese… everything, probably.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘I’ve told her she has to speak to Jane.’ Sophie placed a cup and saucer in front of the Bishop, poured his tea.