Mike did not reply immediately. Staring at the ground he absorbed unseeing the gentle colours of the small, stained-glass window thrown onto the grey stone at their feet. Would you like to come back to the rectory to discuss this? Its a serious matter and I would really like to take some time to think. And to pray. He looked up and grinned almost apologetically.
Mark shook his head. I cant now. He glanced at his watch. Were filming an interview at one oclock. Id better get on. Perhaps some other time?
Mike nodded. Whenever you like. You know where to find me. He paused. Mr Edmunds, before you go, you said you filmed through the night. Was there anything on the film?
Mark smiled wryly. No, he said. Not a thing!
Mike watched as he made his way to the door and disappeared out into the sunshine.
So, what was that about? He hadnt noticed Judith approach. Still wearing her blue scarf and surplice, she was standing only a few feet away, half hidden by one of the pillars.
Mike frowned, suppressing a sudden flash of irritation at the interruption, yet again, of his thoughts. Just a short chat. Nothing to worry about.
He glanced down the church towards the door. Donald gone?
Judith nodded. He had to get back. Family duties. Mike, if youre not doing anything would you like to come back to lunch with me? Just pot luck. Salad. Glass of something? She smiled uncertainly, obviously expecting him to decline, and he felt a sudden wave of pity. He knew Judith was lonely. That would be nice. Thanks. Id love to.
She lived in a three-bedroomed bungalow in a road of identical houses set in small rectangular plots on the top of the hill behind the town. As Mike climbed out of her car, he looked round at her garden. He had been here many times and knew her life-story intimately. She had lived in this house all her life. Her mother had died when she was at teacher training college and Judith had stayed on to look after her father. His joy had been his garden. From what Mike had heard from others who had known the old man when he was still strong enough to go out and garden, it had been a riot of colour and exuberance in sharp contrast to the grim fifties decor which still adorned the bungalow on the inside. There was little sign of that garden now. Mike could never quite decide whether after the old mans death in 1996 Judith had deliberately rooted out every sign of beauty and grace, or whether it was merely that she was uninterested in gardening and had not noticed the dying roses and the blighted leaves. As each plant died it was cut down and burned and the gap in the soil was rapidly covered by a thatch of chickweed and goose grass.
Mike followed her inside, resigning himself to the statutory small glass of sweet sherry which, he suspected, she bought just for him. She did not drink herself, but would sit and watch him sip from the thimble-shaped glass with an intensity which always made him very uncomfortable.
The table was laid for two. He found himself picturing her returning to the empty house, had he turned down her invitation, and sadly removing one place setting, and he knew that was why he had said yes, as he had said yes every month or so since he had arrived in the parish.
Judith, youve lived in this place all your life. He followed her through to the kitchen, a habit which irritated her intensely. She would have preferred him to stay neatly in the lounge until she had the meal on the table in the small dining room. Have you come across much interest in the history of the witchfinder? He leaned on the counter. A couple of bottles of pills stood there, side by side, and he frowned. He hoped she wasnt ill. Tactfully he transferred his gaze to the window and stared out at the back lawn. There were no flowerbeds at all now between the grass and the wooden panel fence. The only remotely decorative item left was a single white plastic-covered washing line.
Judith had turned on the electric element under the pan of potatoes which had been waiting ready-peeled on the stove. Matthew Hopkins? She opened the fridge and brought out some packets of cold meat. I think most people know who he was. Reaching into the drawer for a pair of scissors she sliced the top off each packet in turn and arranged the slices of ham, salami and chicken on a serving dish. Why? She glanced at him sharply.
I heard he is reputed to haunt various places in the town.
Pubs. She turned back to the fridge for tomatoes and a lettuce in a polythene bag. He haunts the pubs.
Mike grinned. That seems strange, given that he was a puritan.
Quite. She threw the lettuce into a bowl in the sink and ran cold water onto it.
Do you ever teach about him in school? He took another sip from his sherry and tried to stop himself from wincing as the sticky sweetness hit his tongue.
I do, actually. I organise a project with Year Fives. I send them off round the place with paper and a pencil and get them to look for a few clues. Then I give them a lesson in more detail. Tell them about the evils of witchcraft. You know the sort of thing. Were you thinking of covering it when you come up to the school?
Good Lord, no. Mike shook his head. No, to tell you the truth I was a bit disturbed by something I heard today.
That man who spoke to you in church? Judith turned off the tap and stared at him. I knew it. I could see you were worried. He didnt look like the usual type who gets into that sort of thing, not New Agey or grungey particularly.
Mike frowned. No, indeed.
What did he say?
You know I cant tell you that, Judith. He smiled to soften the words. But it made me think. Wonder. If there are any genuine he hesitated, trying to think of a word to describe what he had been told residues of the past.
Ghosts? Judith looked astonished. You dont believe in ghosts?
He frowned. Of course I do, Judith. He paused. And so, as a member of the church, should you. You may not be trained to deal with such matters, but you cannot deny their existence.
He saw a quick flare of colour in her cheeks and bit his lip. He had not meant his words to sound so like a rebuke. I agree many so-called ghosts are imagination or whatever, but we cannot deny that such unhappy beings exist. He put down his glass. Would you like me to take this through? Reaching for the plate of meat he gave her a moment to compose herself.
I do believe in it, she said softly. And in witchcraft. I just didnt know if you did.
He swung round. I couldnt be a priest of the church unless I believed in such things, Judith.
Right. She tore the lettuce in half. Well, thats why I teach them about the Witchfinder General. His methods might have been cruel, but the women he persecuted deserved it. They were evil. I teach all about it to deter the little thugs who are toying with the idea of becoming witches today.
Mike was standing by the door, plate in hand. He studied her face thoughtfully, trying to hide the shock he had felt at her words. Are you saying that there are still witches round here?
She nodded. Youd be surprised how many people there are round here who actually claim to be the descendants of witches. They are proud of it! Oh yes, Mike. There are witches. And ghosts. And ghosts of witches. She threw the wilting leaves into a wire basket and shook it violently, spattering water around the room. I am only amazed its taken this long for them to start crawling out of the slime and heading your way.
12
Monday
Turn right at the signpost. There! Emma pointed through the windscreen ahead of them. She took a deep breath. Supposing I hate it this time when I see it?
Peggy changed gear and slowed the car. She glanced across at her daughter with a smile. You havent signed anything, Em. You can still withdraw your offer.
Emma leaned forward as they drove up the lane, squinting in the hot sunlight. It was almost midday and this time it had taken them nearly three hours to negotiate the traffic-clogged roads out of London. Dan had been left behind to mind the shop, the obliging neighbour, after all, unable to help.
Emma found she was holding her breath. Its up here on the left. Just round this bend. There.
Peggy pulled the car off the road and both women climbed stiffly out and stood staring at the cottage. There was a long silence.
Well? Emma turned to Peggy at last.
Its very sweet. I dont know if I remember there being so many roses. Thats made it chocolate-boxy. Peggy took a deep breath. And the air is heaven! Have you got the keys?
Emma reached back through the car window. The keys, which they had picked up on the way past the estate agent, were lying on the glove shelf. Will Fortingale had succumbed to his cold and apparently was spending the day in bed, but his assistant had seemed very happy to let them have them for as long as they wanted them. Grasping them tightly, Emma leaned for a moment on the roof of the car. Her heart was thumping uncomfortably.
Glancing round Peggy saw her and frowned. She put her hand on Emmas shoulder. Are you OK, darling?
Emma nodded. She was biting her lip. I wish Piers had come too.
I dont think there was a chance in hell of that happening, Em. Peggy sighed. Youve got to resign yourself to that. If you buy this place it could be the end of you and Piers. She scanned her daughters face. You do realise that, dont you?
Emma shook her head. Hell come round. He always does. Hes just cross because he didnt think of it himself. And he wanted to consider a place in France. But whats the point of that? If we havent got a place there, we have a reason to go and stay with Derek and Sue. If we had our own place wed never see them. He wants to stay with them. So, we shouldnt get a place near them. That all seems very logical to me!
Peggy shrugged. I suppose so. Well, come on. Lead the way.
Emma paused as they stood in the hall, listening, half wondering if she would hear the strange voice calling to her again, but the house was silent, expectant, as though it, like her, was waiting to hear her mothers verdict.
They spent an hour exploring the cottage and its outbuildings, then they walked out into the garden. I have to admit, it is very sweet. Peggy stared round. Idyllic in some ways, but I would have seen you going for something a bit more sophisticated. A bit more modern. And the garden is huge. Its not a very practical idea, darling. Youve never done any gardening in your life.
Emma stared at her. Excuse me! What do you call that place on the roof outside the flat?
Apart from the roof garden. Peggy snapped a rose off one of the bushes and sniffed it. But that is all in pots!
Emma shook her head. And in the pots is earth. And in the earth are plants. And I have tended every one of those plants for the four years that garden has existed. I designed it. I bought the plants and the pots and I created it! Piers never lifted a finger except to buy the furniture he sits on to watch me tend the garden!
Sorry! Peggy shook her head. I stand rebuked. OK. So, you have a huge part of your soul craving to be a gardener. But you are an investment analyst with a totally absorbing job in London. How much time would you have for this garden?
I could employ a gardener. Emma walked out between the beds. The long grass brushed her bare legs and caught at the buckles of her sandals. Or I could give up London and come and run this place commercially. She swung round to face her mother. Thats what I want to do. I want to garden. I want to tidy it and rescue it and make it thrive again. I want to run it as a business.
And Piers? Peggy scanned her face thoughtfully. How does he fit into this plan?
He could commute? Emma paused and suddenly she smiled, her face radiant, full of mischief. Its got to work out! Somehow Ill persuade him. Look at it. Its so beautiful! It was meant to be! She stretched her arms above her head and did a little pirouette. Well sort something out. I know we will. This is my home, Ma. This is where I want to spend the rest of my life!
13
Monday lunchtime
Lyndsey braked sharply and drew to a halt as she saw the green Peugeot backing out into the lane ahead of her. Her bicycle basket was laden with books and the weight made her wobble slightly as she dismounted. She was close enough to recognise the passenger as the brown-haired woman who had been there on Saturday and she frowned thoughtfully. So, she had brought someone for a second opinion.
Penny for them!
She jumped at the voice. A dusty old blue Volvo had coasted to a halt behind her and she was concentrating so hard on the woman in the car, she had failed to hear it. She turned to the balding man at the wheel. Hi, Alex. Sorry! I didnt hear you.
Just as well I was driving slowly. He chuckled. He was fond of this gamine young woman with her quirky ways and passionate, vivid personality. Are you spying, by any chance?
She smiled. Of course. That woman was here two days ago.
Its time someone bought the old place. Itll fall down if they dont. Alex reached for the handbrake and killing the engine he climbed out. He was a tall man, in his early forties, with the high complexion and bleached eyebrows of the very fair. He had light-blue eyes, their clarity emphasised by a short-sleeved blue polo shirt and cream chinos. He pointed to her load. Stick them in the car. Ill run them back for you. Its too hot to bike in this weather, never mind with about a hundred books!
Ive borrowed them from Oliver Dent. He doesnt mind how many I take as long as I return them. Lyndsey lovingly ran a hand over the assorted volumes.
Alex opened the door of the car and she passed him the books. I didnt know he was a reader, he said.
Hes got thousands of books. Ive just got a job cleaning for him once a week. Poor old boy cant cope up there on his own any more.
Well, I hope youve still got time to look after my kids. Alex stacked the books safely and slammed the door. A quick glance had shown they all appeared to be about plants and flowers.
You know I have. She hauled the bike out of the hedge and straddled it. You still want me tonight? She babysat for the Wests two or three evenings a week and sometimes looked after the children after school as well.
He nodded. Paula and I are going to supper with someone shes met on the train. He shrugged with a pained look towards the heavens. Networking with knobs on. What did I do to deserve a commuting wife?