The Mills of God (6 page)

Everyone connected with the church was present. Mavis, of course, even more disgruntled because the vicar had taken over the organization of the food. Instead of sausage rolls and vol-au-vents he had plumped for a ham, a large salmon and a side of beef, all of which he had cooked himself. He had then prepared several salads, though he had to admit to buying coleslaw and cheese. Truth to tell, Nick was extremely useful in the kitchen, a fact which had been carefully noted by his former girlfriends.

Along with Mavis came Sonia Tate, Ivy Bagshot, the woman from the post office, Ceinwen Carruthers – clutching a poem welcoming the new vicar – and various other assorted females all of whom looked terribly well meaning. And then the doorbell rang and there was Olivia, much to Nick's delight and relief.

‘So you managed to get here,' he said as he let her in.

‘It was clever of you to make it a Friday,' she answered, giving him a glance that sent him reeling. ‘And to pick one of my nights off.'

‘I looked in my crystal ball,' he replied lightly as he ushered her into the sitting room.

Already gathered there were the handsome doctor Kasper, Giles Fielding – who was playing it extremely cool with Gerrard Riddell – and, unbelievably, Jack Boggis, who had refused wine and was standing with a frothing pint of beer in his hand. As Olivia entered the room he brightened up and Nick made a mental note that Jack still fancied his chance with the ladies.

‘Hello,' Boggis said in a broad Yorkshire accent, ‘aren't you the fiddle player?'

‘Yes, that's right,' she answered.

Kasper intervened. ‘Miss Beauchamp is one of the country's leading performers, Mr Boggis.'

‘Oh ah! I stand corrected. But they're all fiddle players to me any road.'

He gave a contented smile and looked round the room and it occurred to Nick that the man was playing the part of a typical Northerner, ‘where's there's muck there's brass, by gum.' He wondered what actually lurked beneath.

There was a swell of laughter from the dining room, where most of the women had foregathered in that peculiar way the English have of automatically segregating the sexes at social gatherings. Nick looked round.

‘I must go and dig out the ladies if you'll excuse me.'

He wandered off.

Kasper rolled his glorious eyes in the vicar's direction. ‘A very pleasant man, that.'

‘Very,' Olivia replied, and changed the subject. She went forward with hand extended. ‘How are you, Giles?'

‘I'm very well, my dear,' he replied in his Sussex accent.

Kasper joined them. ‘Of course, you two are neighbours.'

‘Yes, we are. I'm in Skylark Farm and Olivia owns one of the old cottages.'

But they got no further with this pleasant exchange for with a loud shriek Ceinwen came into the room brandishing her poem.

‘The vicar says that I must read this aloud,' she announced to the startled company.

‘Well, go on then,' said Giles, grinning broadly.

‘Must you?' muttered Boggis under his breath.

She cleared her throat importantly. ‘Along the nave he processed, his chin high but not yet mighty . . .'

‘I thought I spied a dicky bird aflying up his nightie,' whispered Boggis.

Kasper and Olivia exchanged a look but controlled themselves admirably.

‘He has come to us to lead our prayers, to give us all communion. One body we, we bravely shout, as we feel the bonds of union. We welcome thee, oh Father Nick, long may you stay to heal us . . .'

‘To what?' said Giles, cupping his ear as if he were deaf.

‘Heal not feel,' Kasper whispered back.

‘Oh.'

‘May your sword be sharp, your munificence strong, may you walk for ever tall. Greetings to you, oh man of the cloth, from the villagers, one and all.'

There was a second or two's silence and then a smattering of polite applause.

Kasper frowned. ‘I don't think that quite scanned – is that the right word?'

Olivia gave her beautiful smile. ‘Yes, it is and no it didn't. Let's go and get something to eat.'

They found Father Nick in the dining room, cutting sides off the meat and salmon and passing them to his women guests, who had formed a giggling queue and were oohing and aahing over the salads. It was perfectly obvious that one or two of them had taken a fancy to him and were desperate to attract his attention. A primary mover amongst these was Sonia Tate, who, to add to the glamour of the occasion no doubt, had a sexy feather boa in a colour once known as shocking pink firmly attached to her neck. Nick seemed perfectly oblivious but brightened up when he saw Olivia.

‘Hello, you two. What can I get you to eat?'

‘I'll have some salmon please.'

‘And for me,' said Kasper.

‘Of course I rarely eat,' said Jack Boggis, who had followed them into the dining room. ‘I don't get all that hungry.'

‘It's the booze,' muttered the doctor.

‘That doesn't surprise me,' said Gerrard Riddell, waspishly.

He had come to the buffet moving silently and the vicar couldn't help but have uncharitable thoughts about him. He was an unpleasant little man, both in his small pinched face and his equally shrivelled up view of others, to say nothing of his tiny teeth. Nick desperately tried to imagine him as the hub of gay weekend parties and somehow couldn't manage it at all.

Olivia turned to Kasper with a laugh. ‘Surely that is a very unprofessional remark, Doctor.'

He looked stricken. ‘I merely made an observation. I know nothing of the man medically.'

‘Did you like your poem, Father Nick?' asked Giles, approaching and looking roguish.

‘Er hum. Yes. It was very interesting.'

‘Happen,' said Jack Boggis, coming upon them suddenly and taking the smallest fragment of ham and half a tomato on to his plate.

‘Spoken like a true gentleman,' said Gerrard nastily, and wandered away to talk to Ivy Bagshot.

The evening wore on in its inevitable way. Boggis hit the beer and became slightly incoherent – which was just as well – while others began to drift homewards. In the end everyone had left with the exception of Kasper and Olivia, whom Nick had persuaded to stay on and have a nightcap. Frankly he could have done without the doctor but for the fact that Kasper was giving the violinist a lift home.

‘I have drunk little, you see,' he said somewhat mournfully.

‘Whereas I,' Olivia put in, ‘have had more than my fair share.' She changed the subject. ‘Tell me, Nick, is this house really haunted?'

‘Yes, I think it is. Mind you, I haven't seen William – that's the ghost's name by the way – but I've certainly heard him.'

‘This is very interesting,' said Kasper, leaning forward, reluctantly sipping a mineral water. ‘I was brought up in a haunted house, you see. I personally saw nothing but my sister did. In fact she insisted on having another bedroom because an old lady used to come and stare at her in bed – or so she said.' He gave his handsome grin. ‘It could have been because she wanted a larger room, however.'

‘Clever girl,' said Olivia. She stood up and held out her hand to Nick. ‘Thank you so much for a wonderful evening. It really has been good fun.'

‘Must you go?' he asked, not meaning to say that.

‘Yes, I must. I'm off to London tomorrow and I've an early start. Kasper, are you ready?'

‘Of course. Goodbye, Father Nick. It has been a great pleasure.'

His English was excellent but had the slightly mannered tones of someone speaking a foreign tongue. He held out his hand, bowing slightly. Nick shook it.

‘Goodbye, Doctor. I shall make a point of signing up with you tomorrow.'

‘I look forward to that.'

The vicar gave his odd little bow as the couple disappeared through the front door. Radetsky came through the cat flap, purring happily now that he was certain everyone had gone. Nick stooped down to stroke him, gave him a slice of ham which the cat attacked with gusto, then went upstairs to bed, feeling tired and more than a little miserable. It seemed to him that Olivia and Kasper had a special something between them, that the handsome doctor was probably going to spend the night with her. But then, Nick thought, he was the interloper after all.

William, God be praised, was quiet tonight, presumably showing his approval of the party. Nick got into bed and fell asleep only to be awoken again by the sound of a siren, wailing its way through the night. He sat bolt upright, wondering what it meant. Then he put his head back on the pillow and was just dozing off again when another siren sounded. This time he identified it as a car rushing past. Wondering where the police could possibly be going at this hour, Nick hesitated about getting out of bed but thought better of it and promptly fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

SIX

H
e was awoken some hours later by a thunderous knocking at his front door. Glancing at the alarm clock which stood beside the bed he saw that it was nearly eight o'clock and that he should have risen an hour ago. With his hair standing on end and pulling a dressing gown on, Nick went downstairs to open it. Mavis Cox stood there.

‘Oh, Vicar, Vicar,' she burst out hysterically. ‘Something terrible has happened. I think you should come at once.'

He led her into the hallway.

‘What is it? What's the matter?'

‘It's the Patels. They've been murdered.'

‘You mean the supermarket man?'

‘Yes. The police have closed the shop so none of us can buy anything.'

‘Oh, how terrible. I mean about the murder not the shop.'

Mavis looked pained. ‘Quite. But actually it is a shocking thing for the village. I know they were foreigners and all that but they were very well liked.'

‘I'll get some clothes on and go up there though I doubt I can be of any help.'

‘Nevertheless, I think you should put in an appearance.'

Despite the terrible circumstances Nick could not resist a smile. It was perfectly obvious that Mavis was making a bid to rule the roost. He gave one of his jerky bows.

‘I shall do as you say, ma'am.'

Ten minutes later, dressed but not shaven, Nick walked up the road to see a hive of activity round the supermarket. The police had cordoned it off with their official tape and there were several police cars parked outside. A clutch of people dressed from head to toe in white were going in and out about their business. In fact, the vicar thought grimly, Ali would have considered it a day of extremely good trading.

He came to a halt by the police barrier where a young constable addressed him.

‘Excuse me, sir, would you mind moving on.'

‘No, I don't mind at all. I just thought I might be of help. Talking to the relatives or something.'

The constable stared at him and saw Nick's dog collar. ‘Oh sorry, Vicar. I didn't realize.'

‘Don't worry. I'll get along.'

Nick turned to go but at that moment the barrier was lifted to allow a newcomer and his assistant in. They were both dressed in blue protective clothing and Nick guessed that they must be some high-ups from the Sussex police.

One of the men was saying, ‘Sorry I'm late. Had a long rehearsal. Where are the bodies?'

‘In the upstairs bedroom, sir.'

‘Anyone else been on the scene?'

‘Only the girl who found them.'

‘Right.' The man made eye contact with the vicar and gave him a brief smile. ‘Morning, Vicar.'

‘Good morning.'

‘I'll come and see you later. Get your view on things.'

‘Certainly. Meanwhile is there anything I can do to help?'

‘Why don't you pop along to the local church hall or community centre and administer kind words to the parishioners.'

‘Thanks very much. I'll do that.'

The man turned away and went into the supermarket and Nick was left with a vivid impression of unusually bright green eyes which radiated intelligence.

Halfway down the High Street stood a Georgian house which was used as a general meeting place for the community. Nick made his way there and found Sonia Tate already ensconced, looking wide-eyed over a cup of tea.

‘Oh, Father Nick,' she said, her voice husky, ‘what a ghastly thing to happen. I'm so glad you're here to give support.'

‘Who found the bodies, do you know?'

‘It was the girl who works for them on the early shift. Apparently she had a pass key to the shop and went in and when they weren't down by six she started calling out. The rest I leave to your imagination.'

‘Poor woman. What a horrible shock.'

‘I wonder if you know her. Her name is Kylie Saunters.'

‘Does she by any chance serve in The White Hart in Arrow Street?'

‘Yes, she does. Common little thing but she's a hard worker for all that. There are no jobs in Lakehurst so she does any little bits she can to make ends meet.'

‘Why doesn't she go to the nearest town for work?'

‘She lives with her grandmother, who dotes on her of course. Her and her brother.'

‘What happened to their parents?' asked Nick.

Sonia gave an elaborate shrug. ‘Who knows?'

At this moment they were interrupted by the arrival of a woman that Nick did not recognize. She was tall and absolutely striking, with the beautiful heavy-lidded eyes of Greta Garbo and the same full drooping lips.

Sonia stood up and said, ‘I must be going,' banged down her mug of tea and left without another word. Nick stared after her and the stranger gave him a sympathetic smile.