Evil Angels Among Them by Kate Charles Page B

lot of folks. He reckons as he’s got enough support to raise it at the next PCC meeting.’
    â€˜Is that so?’ Stephen’s exasperation gave way to alarm.
    â€˜And by then we’ll have a new churchwarden, and she’s bound to back Fred up.’
    â€˜But—’ Stephen began, before one word penetrated his consciousness. ‘She? Did you say “she”, Harry?’
    Harry watched him with sly interest. ‘That I did. You don’t approve of us having a female churchwarden, and you such a supporter of women and all?’
    â€˜Who said we were going to have a female churchwarden?’ He was genuinely baffled.
    â€˜Everyone knows it by now, Father. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’
    Stephen frowned. ‘Is this another one of Fred’s little schemes?’
    â€˜Oh, no. This one is Ernest’s,’ Harry informed him with relish. ‘Ernest reckons as it’s up to him to decide who ought to be churchwarden, him being so important and all.’
    â€˜And who,’ asked Stephen, ‘is this woman? Or hasn’t Ernest decided yet?’ he added sarcastically.
    â€˜Oh, he’s decided, all right. It’s Flora Newall, that social worker woman. An interfering female, I reckon, but that’s not for me to say. Ernest must know what he’s doing.’
    At the Rectory, Becca was not having a good afternoon. Stephen hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when the phone rang, and she picked it up with something approaching resignation. The calls were so inevitable, and by now their content was so predictable, that she supposed she was becoming inured to the horror – her revulsion remained unabated, but repetition had taken the edge off her more extreme reactions. But this time there was a difference. After the customary enquiries after her well-being, the soft voice took a new tack.
    â€˜Does the parson know that he’s married such a whore?’
    â€˜What?’ she gasped, almost as if she’d been physically struck.
    â€˜One man isn’t enough for you – now you’re putting it all round the village. You must have developed a real taste for it, my dear.’
    Becca felt herself blushing, though she knew there was no reason. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.
    â€˜Off to Roger Staines’s cottage every day,’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t wear the poor man out or he’ll have another heart attack.’
    â€˜But I’m working for Mr Staines!’
    The chuckle was repeated. ‘Yes, I’m sure you are. And I hope he appreciates it, and pays you well for it – I know I would.’
    Becca whimpered, which seemed to encourage him. ‘And what about those two bitches at Foxglove Cottage?’ he went on softly. ‘We all know what they are. And they’re your friends, aren’t they? Does that mean they’ve taught you to like it their way as well? Do you all do it together – three in a bed? Does your husband know? And if I promise not to tell him, will you let me watch?’
    â€˜No – oh, no!’ Her stomach churned; her fingers no longer had the strength to hold the receiver and it clattered to the floor.
    * * *
    The Reverend Stephen Thorncroft was not normally a man given to violent emotions, with a few notable exceptions in his past, but he came close to it that day. He went straight to Ernest Wrightman’s house, and the expression on his face must have warned Doris, when she answered the door, that all was not well.
    â€˜I’m afraid Ernest isn’t here,’ she replied to his query, her voice sounding nervous. ‘He’s gone to a luncheon meeting with the people from Ingram’s, and he’s not back yet.’
    â€˜I’ll wait,’ the Rector said tersely, ‘if you don’t mind.’
    â€˜Please come in, Father.’ She ushered him into her immaculate sitting room. ‘Can I get you a cup