mind?'
'We always recommend direct confrontation.'
'With whom? I mean who do you confront?'
'Anyone towards whom you feel guilt or resentment.'
'Oh, I see. You sort of talk to them and get it off your chest . . .'
'That is correct. Since you are leaving that part of the world behind, it is important to clear any bad feeling that there may be between you and any of your fellow creatures.'
'Oh, yes, right. I'm all in favour of that. And when would you recommend doing this . . . you know, the clearing the air business . . . ?'
'It is best that it should be done as near to the time of joining the Church as possible. Otherwise old wounds could be reopened and the resentments could grow rather than diminish.'
'Yes, yes, I suppose they could,' Mrs Pargeter agreed thoughtfully.
What Brother Michael had said confirmed the information in Theresa Cotton's letter. Immediately before her disappearance she had engineered a series of 'confrontations' with people against whom she harboured resentments.
Or who harboured resentments against her, perhaps . . . ?
Mrs Pargeter suddenly recalled Fiona Burchfield-Brown saying that Theresa had come to see her at about six o'clock on the Monday evening before she vanished. How many other people in Smithy's Loam had received similar visits? And what had been the subjects of the conversations during those visits?
Mrs Pargeter would make it her business to get answers to those questions.
It was clear that Brother Michael himself had not been thoroughly successful in ridding his own mind of resentments and grudges. 'I'm afraid your friend Theresa Cotton,' he snapped suddenly, 'let us down pretty badly. Particularly financially. There was some maintenance work on the roof here which we've recently had started on the promise of certain moneys from her.'
'I'm so sorry. Well, I wouldn't like to think that my being a friend of hers might inhibit my chances of— '
'My dear Mrs Pargeter, of course not.' Brother Michael was suddenly as near as he ever got to charm. The effect of the limousine and the jewellery had not diminished. 'No, no. We would be delighted if you wish to consider giving up your life for God.'
'Yes.' And not just my life, thought Mrs Pargeter – that'd be the smallest part of it. 'Well, look, obviously I'll want to think about all this . . .'
'Naturally. Would you like me to show you round the premises, give you an idea of the sort of works we do here?'
Why was it people of that sort always talked about 'works' rather than 'work', she reflected, before replying, 'That's very kind, but I really must say no. Keep that pleasure for another visit. You've already given me so much food for thought this morning.'
'Good. I am glad to hear it. And may I express the hope that God will make your thoughts grow and come nearer to His Almighty Simplicity.'
Mrs Pargeter was not quite sure of the proper response to a remark like that. She made do with, 'Oh, thank you.'
'Let me give you some literature about our beliefs and the works that we do here.' He thrust a couple of colour-printed booklets into her hands. On the front of each were the words 'Church of Utter Simplicity' and a logo which featured a cross, a fish, a tree and a couple of rabbits.
Then Brother Michael led her to the door and opened it. 'God bless you,' he said, as if he were the only person on earth with franchising rights in divine benison. 'You will be in my prayers.'
Yuk, thought Mrs Pargeter. Being in Brother Michael's prayers was the last place on earth she wanted to be.
In fact, she decided firmly, she didn't want to have anything to do with the Church of Utter Simplicity ever again. She had never encountered a supposedly spiritual institudon that she found so supremely dispiriting.
In the back of the limousine, as it returned her to Smithy's Loam, Mrs Pargeter thought about the visit. The Church of Utter Simplicity was a deeply unappealing place, peopled by deeply unappealing people, but she did not think
'We always recommend direct confrontation.'
'With whom? I mean who do you confront?'
'Anyone towards whom you feel guilt or resentment.'
'Oh, I see. You sort of talk to them and get it off your chest . . .'
'That is correct. Since you are leaving that part of the world behind, it is important to clear any bad feeling that there may be between you and any of your fellow creatures.'
'Oh, yes, right. I'm all in favour of that. And when would you recommend doing this . . . you know, the clearing the air business . . . ?'
'It is best that it should be done as near to the time of joining the Church as possible. Otherwise old wounds could be reopened and the resentments could grow rather than diminish.'
'Yes, yes, I suppose they could,' Mrs Pargeter agreed thoughtfully.
What Brother Michael had said confirmed the information in Theresa Cotton's letter. Immediately before her disappearance she had engineered a series of 'confrontations' with people against whom she harboured resentments.
Or who harboured resentments against her, perhaps . . . ?
Mrs Pargeter suddenly recalled Fiona Burchfield-Brown saying that Theresa had come to see her at about six o'clock on the Monday evening before she vanished. How many other people in Smithy's Loam had received similar visits? And what had been the subjects of the conversations during those visits?
Mrs Pargeter would make it her business to get answers to those questions.
It was clear that Brother Michael himself had not been thoroughly successful in ridding his own mind of resentments and grudges. 'I'm afraid your friend Theresa Cotton,' he snapped suddenly, 'let us down pretty badly. Particularly financially. There was some maintenance work on the roof here which we've recently had started on the promise of certain moneys from her.'
'I'm so sorry. Well, I wouldn't like to think that my being a friend of hers might inhibit my chances of— '
'My dear Mrs Pargeter, of course not.' Brother Michael was suddenly as near as he ever got to charm. The effect of the limousine and the jewellery had not diminished. 'No, no. We would be delighted if you wish to consider giving up your life for God.'
'Yes.' And not just my life, thought Mrs Pargeter – that'd be the smallest part of it. 'Well, look, obviously I'll want to think about all this . . .'
'Naturally. Would you like me to show you round the premises, give you an idea of the sort of works we do here?'
Why was it people of that sort always talked about 'works' rather than 'work', she reflected, before replying, 'That's very kind, but I really must say no. Keep that pleasure for another visit. You've already given me so much food for thought this morning.'
'Good. I am glad to hear it. And may I express the hope that God will make your thoughts grow and come nearer to His Almighty Simplicity.'
Mrs Pargeter was not quite sure of the proper response to a remark like that. She made do with, 'Oh, thank you.'
'Let me give you some literature about our beliefs and the works that we do here.' He thrust a couple of colour-printed booklets into her hands. On the front of each were the words 'Church of Utter Simplicity' and a logo which featured a cross, a fish, a tree and a couple of rabbits.
Then Brother Michael led her to the door and opened it. 'God bless you,' he said, as if he were the only person on earth with franchising rights in divine benison. 'You will be in my prayers.'
Yuk, thought Mrs Pargeter. Being in Brother Michael's prayers was the last place on earth she wanted to be.
In fact, she decided firmly, she didn't want to have anything to do with the Church of Utter Simplicity ever again. She had never encountered a supposedly spiritual institudon that she found so supremely dispiriting.
In the back of the limousine, as it returned her to Smithy's Loam, Mrs Pargeter thought about the visit. The Church of Utter Simplicity was a deeply unappealing place, peopled by deeply unappealing people, but she did not think
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