Chapter Fourteen

WHEN JULIA ARRIVED at the wishing well, she performed the same ritual Evie used to call up the spirit of John Calderwood.

He was not best pleased to be aroused, and especially not by Julia.

‘What are you doing here, woman? I must conserve my energies. And you do not have the authority to summon me.’

‘I have come with a plea.’

‘A plea from a Shields? How are the mighty fallen.’

‘Yes, we are. And much is changing in Saxonhurst. I don’t have the manor any more. And it’s time you released Evie.’

‘You are talking nonsense. Release her? She is bound to me, by love as well as duty.’

‘Unbind her, then. Set her free. If you love her as you claim …’

‘If I set her free, then I die for all time. We will never be together. That is not what either of us desires.’

‘It would be best for the village.’

Calderwood roared with anger.

‘You dare tell me what is best for my village? You, you miserable little jumped-up heir of sycophants.’

‘All right. Keep your hold on Evie, if you must. But leave him alone.’

‘The preacher?’

‘Of course.’

‘You love him?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I think about him. He does not deserve what you have planned for him. Let him go. Find some other way to be with Evie.’

‘There is no other way.’

‘If you will not leave him alone, then I will take him away from you. I will protect him. I don’t care what I have to do.’

‘He has to die. His predecessor –’

‘He is not Tribulation Smith! None of those others were either. He is a peaceable man, a little out of his depth, just beginning to know himself. He is an innocent.’

‘He wants his hands on Evie. He is not so innocent when it comes to her.’

‘I can keep him away from Evie. I can stop the repetition of history.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I will do everything it takes.’

‘Do what you will. He will die. And Evangeline and I shall live.’

It was a warm night, and Julia’s activities had certainly added to the heat, but after 20 minutes or so, Adam was starting to feel decidedly chilly. Stretched on the bed, without any covers, and with no means of getting them, he felt the cold keenly on his nipples, which throbbed in their suffering. He tried twisting his hands and feet, to keep the circulation going, then he worked at every strategy he could to wriggle out of the tightly tied ribbon, but nothing had any effect. Julia had trussed him up in fine style.

The cold intensified, beyond what he expected of an English summer night. Suddenly he was shivering, teeth chattering. It felt as if the seasons had done a dramatic and unannounced swap.

‘Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner,’ he muttered between his teeth. Perhaps here at last was God’s vengeance on him for all this fornication. He would have to bow to it, accept it as best he could. He had no defence prepared.

In the corner of the room, he heard a crash, as if something had fallen from the chest of drawers. A vase, perhaps. He tried to sit bolt upright, wrenching his arms in the process.

‘Who is there?’

But no reply came.

An icy wind blew over his body now. He heard footsteps, small ones, pattering about the room.

‘Julia? This isn’t funny, you know.’

All those stupid, mad stories she had told him about the ghosts of her ancestors crowded into his mind. Her husband and his sudden heart attack – was he now in line for one of those? His toes and fingers curled while he tried whatever he could to seek warmth.

Somewhere close to his ear, a chain rattled, then there was whispering, as if from multiple mouths, very faint, but finally crystallising into recognisable words.

‘Your time is short,’ it whispered over and over again. ‘Your time is short.’

‘Who are you?’ he begged. ‘Lord, have mercy on my soul. May the power of Christ smite those who deny Him. I invoke the name of the Lord.’

But the whispering continued, and so did the cold. He heard rattling, as if an earthquake or a heavy thunderstorm struck the room, making every loose item vibrate.

‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’ roared Adam, trying to make himself heard over the growing din. He began to sing Rock of Ages, concentrating hard on the words in order to keep his mind, which threatened to slip away into a black maw of terror.

Something else crashed to the ground. Then he felt a pain, like the blade of a knife, dragging up his thigh.

‘Get away!’ he shrieked. ‘Go away!’

At that moment, a light snapped on and he heard Julia’s voice.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake. Leave him alone. Go after me if you must, but he’s done nothing to offend you. Good God, it seems every ghost in Saxonhurst is after you.’

The noise ceased and the air in the room gradually reheated.

Adam tried to talk to Julia, but his mouth failed to co-operate and all he could do was twist his wrists and ankles in a mute appeal for freedom.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘They are awful. They’re in a terrible mood at the moment, but I wasn’t expecting them to take it out on anyone except me.’

Adam found his voice and croaked out a few words.

‘Either I’m mad – or you’re sane … I don’t know which …’

She stroked his cheek.

‘It’s all real enough.’

‘Untie me.’

‘You know, I’m not sure I should.’

‘Julia!’

‘You aren’t safe and I want to keep you out of harm’s way. What would be easier than keeping you up here, locked away from the world, until the danger has passed?’

‘You can’t kidnap me. For pity’s sake, set me free.’

With a sigh, she set to unravelling the tightly wound ribbons, first at his ankles, then at his wrists, until he was able to sit up, stretching his arms and legs to dispel the pins and needles brought on by the bondage. He took off the blindfold and stared at Julia’s despondent face.

‘What was that? The noises, the – feelings?’

‘My ancestors. Poltergeists. I didn’t think they’d bother you, but they’re having an angry phase, so …’

Adam shook his head. ‘And I was going to insist you saw a doctor, once you were out of here.’

She smiled. ‘I’m not mad. But perhaps you’ll believe me now. There is danger, and Evie is the one charged with leading you right into it.’

‘These ghosts … Don’t they haunt Seb and Kasia?’

‘They’ve never mentioned it. They wouldn’t haunt Evie’s friends, though. Evie has special protection.’

Julia’s voice was bitter.

‘Special protection?’

‘As the village mascot. The one who performs all the rituals.’

‘I am going mad,’ muttered Adam. ‘Dear Lord and Father of mankind, have mercy on me. My indulgence of the flesh has poisoned my brain and I suffer delusions …’

‘Stop it, Adam. They are not delusions.’

He stood up and started collecting his clothes from the bedroom floor.

‘They drove my parents mad, by inhabiting my body when I was a small child. The things they made me do … You’ve seen the film Poltergeist?’

‘Never.’ He paused in the midst of putting on his trousers to frown at the concept of horror movies, of which he strongly disapproved.

‘Oh, never mind. And my husband’s heart attack – that was their doing. Not that I entirely blamed them for that one …’

‘Julia!’

‘You mustn’t go. Please stay.’

‘I can’t stay. You are in league with Satan. I have to go.’

‘I just want to save you …’

‘You are damning me. You and your – perverse lusts.’

‘Hey – they’re your perverse lusts too. Don’t put this on me. You’re every bit as sex-mad as anyone in this village. You just can’t handle it, that’s all.’

‘I was pure. I lived a chaste life, until I came here. I have to leave. I have to get away. This is what they call a breakdown, is it?’

He laughed wildly.

‘Don’t go.’

She lunged for him, but he had put on his boots and he sidestepped her, hurrying through the upper corridors to the main staircase, looking left and right for signs of the presence that had so terrified him, but it was gone and he left the house unhindered.

He ran across the moonlit lawn and vaulted the broken wall. He did not break his pace until he was back at the vicarage.

He went straight to the study and booted his computer, then fired off an email to the Archdeacon.

‘I have been feeling unwell both in body and spirit since coming to Saxonhurst and I would be very grateful if you would agree to giving me some time off for a retreat. There is a place on the Welsh borders I have visited before. I suspect some weeks spent in solitary contemplation will revive my wearied mind and re-invigorate my faith. Please indicate as quickly as you can whether this will be possible.’

He sat awake, staring at his inbox for hour after hour, not that he expected a reply at least until morning.

‘Please respond,’ he whispered.

Evie was due back today. He had been unfaithful to her. He couldn’t face her. And besides, he was going mad. The faith that had been so strong was unravelling, falling away, breaking into chaos. He sat back in the chair and shut his eyes, but then he opened them again, afraid of what he might dream.

The Archdeacon’s reply, a terse nod coupled with some griping about how hard it would be to find a stand-in at such short notice, came just after Mrs Witts had arrived to prepare the breakfast.

With ineffable gratitude in his soul, he trudged upstairs to pack a bag.

Aquinas House stood in a shallow valley hidden deep in the Forest of Dean.

Adam had spent the month of August in prayer and anguished efforts at atonement. If he’d known how to make a hair shirt, he would have done so. Instead, he spent three hours at a stretch on his knees on the cold stone floor of the chapel. He fasted for three days out of every seven. He went on long forest walks, letting the brambles scratch him and the nettles sting, never stopping until he was physically incapable of moving any further. Then he would lie where he was and sleep until he was able to walk back.

He struggled daily with the knowledge of what he had done. He had gone to Julia, night after night, and given in to the lusts of the flesh. Yet when he tried to think back to how it had happened, what had been the moment of fatal weakness, he could never put his finger on it. How had he fallen, so far and so fast? It was witchcraft. There could be no other explanation.

‘Lord, deliver me from this evil woman,’ he prayed. ‘Turn her away from her sin and direct her to the path of righteousness. I failed to do so. I was weak and I became her vessel. Oh, how shall I ever atone?’

Kneeling, naked from the waist up, he reached beneath the bed that took up most of his Spartan cell and found the instrument he had made from a handful of birch rods, bound together with twine. He whipped it over his shoulder, letting the branches swoop down on his back, establishing a dull, painful rhythm, carrying on past the point where he thought he could bear it, until he broke down in tears and fell on his face on the floor.

After perhaps an hour, he stood up shakily, put on his shirt and jacket and went out into the forest.

He hadn’t walked far when he became aware of sounds behind him – twigs snapping on the forest floor, a cough. He was being followed.

He turned around and groaned with dismay.

‘Evie. What are you doing here?’

‘Why did you leave us? I’ve had to call in a few favours to find out where you were.’

‘I needed some time. Saxonhurst … Well, it’s not a healthy place for me to be.’

‘It’s healthier than that holy prison up the road.’

‘I fell into an abyss. I’m trying to find my way out.’

‘That’s very poetic, Adam.’ She stepped closer.

Dear Lord, she was even more beautiful than before. Autumn was in the air, and she wore tight jeans and a figure-hugging long-sleeved T-shirt, a headscarf making a nominal effort to tame her mass of dark curls. A jewel flashed on the right side of her nose and her lips were plumper, her eyes brighter, her skin more touchable than ever.

He sat down on a felled tree trunk, winded.

‘Why have you come?’

‘I missed you. Came back from France, couldn’t wait to see you. Ran all the way to the vicarage, but you weren’t there. Aunty said you’d gone on retreat. Retreat from what? From me?’

She sat down beside him.

If she touches me, I am lost.

‘From Saxonhurst,’ he said. ‘The most godless village in England. They weren’t wrong.’

‘We have our gods. Our own ones.’

‘I can’t work with that, Evie. Polytheists. Witches. Heathens. That’s all Saxonhurst is made of. It’s no place for a man of God.’

‘You’re saying you want to leave?’

‘I think that’s the decision I’ve been building up to, these last weeks. God has shown me that I don’t have the strength to prevail in that place. He has showed me my weakness … I pray every hour of the day for His forgiveness, that I might be made worthy. But I will have to prove myself in some other arena. Saxonhurst has defeated me.’

Evie, who had been smiling and shaking her head, suddenly looked anxious, pale beneath her tan.

‘No, Adam, you ain’t defeated. You needed a rest, that’s clear. But you’ll come back stronger and you’ll build up that congregation. I’ll round up some of the locals, get them down the church next Sunday.’

‘Church attendance is immaterial. They have to have true faith, or it’s meaningless.’

‘They just need time, that’s all. They’ll come round. Get a choir together, some good rousing hymns. They love a bit of singing. Have a jumble sale.’

Adam put his head in his hands.

‘A jumble sale,’ he said, laughing unsteadily. ‘I can’t go back. I can’t ever go back.’

‘But Adam.’ She put her hand on his thigh. ‘What about us?’

I am lost.

‘You don’t mean it,’ he said. ‘You’re toying with me.’

‘Toying with you? D’you call this toying?’

She pulled his hands away from his face and knelt up on the branch. She clasped her hands around his neck and moved slowly forward, gauging his response, which was to remain stock-still and petrified.

When their lips met, he felt the penances of the past weeks come undone. As quickly as the washing of a wave, he was a man of flesh and blood again, drowning in his desires.

She was his nemesis and he would never be able to resist her.

Her soft mouth on his, she nipped at his lower lip, catching it delicately between her white little teeth, pulling at it. He plunged his tongue into her dark recesses, gathering her up, possessing her with a force that frightened him. She squirmed and gasped on his lap, her bottom grinding lusciously on his erect cock.

They kissed ravenously and without stopping for breath until a dog rushed by, hotly pursued by its owner, causing them to break apart with blushes on his part, though not on hers.

‘Come back to Saxonhurst, Adam.’

‘I want you. But I don’t want Saxonhurst.’

‘You can only be with me there. It’s my home.’

‘I hate it.’

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you apply to the diocese for a transfer? We can sort something out, I’m sure. Maybe a nice little suburban church in Parham? All yummy mummies and bake sales.’

‘But you would be in Saxonhurst.’

‘As long as you weren’t too far away, it’d be all right, wouldn’t it?’

‘Evie, I want to marry you. If I marry you, we live together. I’m not leaving you in Saxonhurst.’

‘Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. But you can’t stay here for ever. And the Archdeacon’ll want you back. Don’t trash your career for the sake of some stroppy villagers. If it’s that Julia Shields you’re worried about –’

‘What’s she said to you?’

Evie smiled slyly. ‘Nothing. I know what she’s like, that’s all.’

‘She’s a witch.’

‘Just come back for a little while, darling. Just until the Harvest Festival. You’ve got to do the Harvest Festival. It’s the one church thing everyone goes to. Put on a slap-up supper and a barn dance. The place’ll be heaving at the rafters.’

‘I can’t …’

She kissed him again, gently as air.

‘You can, lover. You can.’

‘Where the hell did you disappear to?’

Adam had not bargained on bumping into Julia. He finished pinning up the notice on the board and turned to her, his face set in unwelcoming blankness.

‘I needed to get away. To think. I’ve thought. Now I’m back.’

‘I see. Care to share any of these thoughts?’

‘Yes, actually.’ He dropped his voice, looking over her head for any passing villagers, but the lane outside the church was quiet. ‘What happened between us was wrong and it’s over. I wasn’t myself. It won’t happen again.’

‘You weren’t yourself? It’s the one time you’ve ever been entirely yourself, Adam, you silly, silly man. It’s the one time you’ve dropped those ridiculous inhibitions and scruples and been the natural Adam Flint. I know it and, deep down, so do you. But you’ll keep lying to yourself because it suits you.’

‘We’ll have to agree to disagree,’ he said. ‘Are you still at the manor house?’

‘No. Got turfed out with a police escort. Made it into the local paper, actually. You’d have seen it if you’d been here. I needed you, Adam. You left me when I needed you most.’

‘What you need,’ he said, ‘is a doctor. A psychiatrist.’

‘Oh, how dare you! You’re going to deny everything that happened, aren’t you? God, you’re an idiot.’

She seemed about to flounce off, but the poster caught her eye and she stopped to read it.

‘And so it begins,’ she said, in a tone that made Adam’s hackles rise.

‘What do you mean? The Harvest Festival? It’s pretty usual to have one at this time of year.’

‘Her idea, was it?’

‘Actually, it was both of our ideas.’

‘At least you’ll get a full house for that one. Adam.’ She put out a hand suddenly, touching his forearm. He snatched it away. ‘I wish you’d listen to me. You mustn’t go to that festival.’

‘It’s a church event, Julia. How can I not go?’

‘You won’t come out of it.’

He shook his head with exasperation.

‘Look, all that village history stuff – Tribulation Smith, the Lydford book, the generations of Evangelines – I’m going to put it behind me. I got too involved in it and it affected my thinking. From now on, I look to the future. My future and that of Saxonhurst as a Christian village.’

‘And the future of Evie.’

He glared.

‘Yes. Yes, why not? The future of Evie.’

Julia turned away from him.

‘You’re next, then,’ she muttered, before stalking off towards the post office.

Adam shook his head and re-entered the churchyard through the lych gate. It was a gloriously mellow late-summer day, the air ripe with the smell of fallen apples. 

When he walked into the vicarage, Mrs Witts called out from the kitchen, ‘Evie’s come to see you. She’s in the garden.’

Adam’s heart glowed and he walked out into the neatly tended back garden, finding her sitting at the far end of the lawn in her scarlet dress.

She waved at him. As he drew nearer, he saw that her mouth was stained a delicate purple.

‘You’ve got a ton of blackberries, vicar,’ she said, pulling a few more off the hedge and cramming them into her mouth.

‘So I see.’

‘Aunty’s making a crumble with ’em, but there’s loads left. Come and have some.’

He sat down beside her and took off his hat.

‘How many have you had?’ he asked laughingly.

‘Loads. I love ’em. Don’t you?’

She put one to his lips and he accepted it, biting down so that the slightly sharp, mildly flavoured juice burst on to his tongue.

‘Very nice,’ he said, swallowing it down.

‘Have another,’ she said.

She popped one in her mouth, then she lifted her face to Adam’s, putting her hands around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Once she had prised open his lips with her tongue, she pushed the blackberry into his mouth. Their tongues competed to burst it first, Evie winning the race.

‘Mmm. Let’s do that again.’

They consumed a lot of blackberries in this manner, the juice running down their chins, their lips and teeth bumping together, their tongues stained purple.

Adam grasped Evie around her waist and pulled her down so they lay, entwined and panting and surrounded by smashed blackberries, in the shadow of the hedgerow. Now the kissing continued without the fruit, sensual yet solemn, while the sun looked down upon them.

The lushness of her body beneath his hand made him moan with desire. The way she filled her dress, curving and spilling over, was too perfect to bear. He ran a hand up her thigh until he was inside her silky skirt, close to her silky briefs.

Evie broke off the kiss. ‘’Ere, vicar. You’re coming on a bit strong, aren’t you? Didn’t think you knew how to feel a girl up. I see I’ve got a lot to learn about you.’

‘You are going to marry me, Evie, aren’t you? Say yes.’

She sat up, dried grass stalks in her hair, blackberry juice on her breasts. God, she was obscenely gorgeous.

She put a finger on his lips, smiling fondly.

‘You’re covered in juice stains,’ she said. ‘What a funny bloke you are, Adam. You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘You know I am. I love you so much it chokes me. I love you so much my vision goes black around the edges when I see you. I love you so much it’s driving me slowly insane. Well, not that slowly, actually.’ He laughed mirthlessly and grabbed her hand. ‘You have to say yes.’

‘All right then,’ she said. ‘After the Harvest Festival. OK.’

‘Really? You will?’

‘Yeah, why not? You’re fit as fuck and you’ll do for me.’ She giggled. ‘Imagine Evie Witts as the vicar’s wife. I’ll never hear the end of it.’

‘Oh Evie. Oh, you’ve saved my life.’

He threw his arms around her and locked her in a passionate kiss that threatened to drown the pair of them.

‘Steady,’ she laughed, emerging in even more of a mess than she had been before. ‘Where’s my ring then?’

‘Ring? Oh! Of course. Well, are you busy? Shall we go to Parham and look in the jewellers?’

‘I’m never too busy for new diamonds, lover. Not that I’ve got any old ones, mind.’

Mrs Witts, who had been watching from the back porch, mixing bowl under her arm, congratulated them as they passed by. The look exchanged between aunt and niece was a little strange, loaded with something. But Adam was too immersed in his private rapture to think about that too much.

‘You’ll have to give up that porn film work. If you can call it work.’

They lazed in the shade of a spreading oak tree by the river in Parham. Evie’s ring finger sparkled. She held it up to the sun, admiring it from every angle.

‘Why? I’m a modern woman, Adam.’ She laughed at his face. ‘I’m only joking. I know it’d get you in trouble with the bishop. Dunno why, though. It’s just sex.’

‘Evie! You can’t have sex with anyone else but me. We’ll be married. “Forsaking all others”, remember.’

‘Oh, you religious types,’ she sighed, stretching out on the grass. ‘Funny lot you all are.’

‘You’re going to have a lot of adjustments to make,’ said Adam anxiously. ‘Perhaps I should help you understand what Christian marriage is. Perhaps we should focus on that in our study sessions.’

Evie laughed, a trill that sent the ducks quacking over to the other bank of the river.

‘You want to teach me how to be a wife? You’re classic, Adam, you know that?’ She rolled over to face him, smiling up at him. ‘But I do like you.’

‘More than like, I hope.’

‘Yeah.’ She reached up to stroke his cheek. ‘More’n like.’

‘Our love must be faithful and exclusive,’ he said earnestly. ‘Nobody else can have you now.’

‘We ain’t married yet.’

‘Evie!’

‘Tell you what. Let’s go back to yours and – get a bit of practice in. For the wedding night, like.’

‘No. No sex before marriage.’ A flashback to all those nights with Julia, so vivid his stomach ached, burst into his brain. ‘We should wait.’

‘Who’d care? Your God? He don’t care. He knows I’ve been around the block, I should think, what with being omniscient and all.’

‘Evie. I want to do this properly.’

‘Can you do it properly, though? That’s my question. When it comes down to brass tacks – have you had a woman?’

Adam swallowed and looked out over the river.

‘Adam. I asked you a question. Are you a virgin?’

He shook his head.

‘Really? I thought you were, for some reason. Bad boy, were you, back before you took up wearing that dog collar?’ She curled her fingers inside it, poking his neck. ‘Love it. Such a sexy look. My man in his dog collar. Not like the ones we put on the subs at work. They really are dog collars, leashes and all.’

‘Yes, well, the less said about that the better.’ Adam’s tone was stiff. ‘And you’re going to have to learn to stop saying everything that comes into your head. I can’t have you talking about – subs – at the Bishop’s palace garden party.’

Evie pouted. ‘Why not? What am I supposed to talk about?’

‘The weather. A good book you read recently. A charity you support.’

‘I support the Saxonhurst cricket team. Will that do?’

Adam clenched his fist, remembering that awful afternoon in the sports pavilion.

‘I have a lot of work to do on you,’ he said under his breath. ‘But I’ll get there.’

‘That sounds ominous.’ A cloud covered the sun and she sat up and hugged herself. ‘We going home for that shag then, or what?’

‘No, we are not. But I do need to book the service and call around for a clergyman to officiate. I take it you want to use St Jude’s?’

‘Register office’d do me fine,’ she said sulkily. 

‘Don’t be silly. Come on. Let’s get home. We can call at your parents’ on the way back – tell them the good news.’

If they thought the news good, Evie’s parents didn’t do much to show it. Her father, out in his combine harvester, wasn’t available, and her mother stood at the counter in the farm shop, counting out eggs into boxes without even looking up.

‘Yeah? Right. What you wearing, Eves?’

‘Dunno. White dress. How funny!’ She burst into peals of laughter. Adam tightened his grip on her arm.

Evie’s mother looked up briefly, her eyes flickering between the pair of them.

‘Make an odd couple, you do,’ she said. ‘Can’t believe she caught you.’

‘Caught me?’

‘You being a vicar and her – not.’

‘We are in love, Mrs Witts. You can count on my being the best husband to her you could ever wish for.’

‘Can I now? You’ll need a bloody tight rein, vicar, if you don’t mind my saying.’

The blood rushed to his groin. A tight rein on Evie. Her luscious body, wound around with thin leather straps, her breasts round and prominent, her bottom framed by the shiny bonds. He, with his hand on the leash, leading her across the lawn. I have to keep you like this, my love, so that your wicked impulses cannot be indulged. I have to hold you in check. Why had she had to say that?

‘Oi, ma,’ objected Evie. ‘I’ll be a brilliant vicar’s wife. Do all that baking and flower-arranging and visiting the sick and whatnot. Just watch me.’

Her mother turned back to the eggs.

‘Yeah,’ she said listlessly. ‘When’s the big day then?’

‘After the Harvest Festival,’ said Adam. ‘The weekend after.’

‘Course it is, love,’ she said. ‘Course it is.’

‘Your mother is a strange woman,’ commented Adam, entering the wedding date into the church ledger.

‘Funny, coming from you,’ snorted Evie. She twirled around the altar steps, her heels tip-tapping on the old, cold stone. ‘They don’t come a lot stranger than the Reverend Adam Flint. Should I call you Reverend? What does it mean? Am I meant to revere you?’

He looked over at her.

‘Don’t do that.’ She had her palms down on the altar cloth, as if she were contemplating climbing aboard.

‘Why not?’

He took her by the arm and marched her swiftly into the nave.

‘Do we really need to have a chat about respecting the sacred character of the church?’ he asked, shaking his head. ‘My church?’

‘Your church? Ain’t it God’s?’

‘Evie, this will never work if you can’t learn to control your impulses. You don’t have to voice every single thing that comes into your head, and neither do you have to do everything your body tells you to.’

She put her head to one side, coquettish, irresistible.

‘Aw, where’s the fun in that?’ she said. She put out a finger and prodded at his chest, moving it down towards his stomach. ‘I thought you liked my impulses. Like, right now, I’ve got this really strong impulse to touch you.’

‘This is the house of God,’ he whispered.

‘He ain’t in. Nobody can see us.’

She put her hand on his waist and stood on tiptoe, brushing her nose against his.

‘Give us a kiss.’

The scent of her, its warmth and spice, was a drug, confounding his senses. You could kiss a woman in church, couldn’t you? You may now kiss the bride. It didn’t break any rules.

He cupped her face and darted forward, meeting her challenge, pressing his lips to hers. She moaned with pleasure and held on to the back of his neck, massaging it with her fingertips while the kiss deepened in intensity.

It was like scratching the worst and most persistent itch, Adam thought. She was a mosquito who had been biting him over and over and over all summer and now he finally had the antidote. If she bit him again, he could bite her back. The relief sank into him like balm, while his tongue sank inside her mouth, embedded in her warmth and wetness.

He was a drowning man, but he wanted to drown.

When his eyes half-opened, the first thing they saw from their blurred corners was the crucifix that hung over the altar. The nailed Christ looked down upon them, sorrowful and crowned with thorns.

Adam broke away and wiped his mouth.

‘Not in here,’ he said apologetically.

‘I want to do it on the altar,’ said Evie, trying to lure him into another kiss, but he shook her off.

‘Don’t be so blasphemous,’ he growled, trapped in the agony of an erection that couldn’t be used. ‘I’m serious, Evie. You need to learn to control yourself. What will it take?’

‘Perhaps you should spank me,’ she suggested, hitching up her red silk skirt until it sat just above her thighs. She bent over teasingly, presenting her bottom through the tight scarlet cladding.

Adam put his hands over his face.

‘Go on, Adam. Teach me a lesson. Make me a good girl for you.’

With an incoherent cry, he turned on his heel and strode up the nave, taking deep breaths as he walked towards the light from the open door.

‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ she called, running after him and taking his arm. ‘Don’t go all uptight on me again. I just can’t help myself around you. You’re so much fun to tease.’

‘You can’t marry a man just because you like teasing him,’ he muttered, entering the churchyard.

‘It’s more than that. Hey. Don’t give me daggers. I love you, vicar. Honest, I do. I love you so much I want you to take me to bed right now and give me the seeing-to of my life.’

‘We have to wait,’ said Adam, although it was closer to a shout.

‘Why? You didn’t wait for that other girl, the one that popped your cherry. Why should I have to? Ain’t I as good as her?’

‘That’s not … That was meaningless. I didn’t ever want to marry her. I want to marry you. I want our wedding night to be special.’

‘That’s so sweet. But it’ll be special whether you fuck me now or not. It’ll be special ’cos it’s our wedding night and we’ll be together.’

‘I want to do everything the right way. For you, Evie. I want to treat you the way you should be treated. Not the way you’re used to. The way you deserve.’

She was quiet for a minute, the usual breezy repartee knocked from her by Adam’s words.

‘The way I deserve?’ she said, and Adam saw a shimmering in her eyes. ‘What’s that then?’

‘Like the precious, amazing soul that you are, that you’re capable of being. I don’t think anyone’s ever really cared for you, Evie. It’s always been about what they could take from you. I want to care for you. So much. I want to show you what you’re worth.’

She inhaled a ragged breath. ‘Fancy words,’ she said, but her voice was uneven.

‘Words from the heart,’ he said firmly. ‘Words that are meant.’

‘I suppose you’d think the same of me if I looked like an old sock, would you?’

‘Evie, don’t. Nothing you can do or say will ever change the way I feel about you. I love you absolutely. I always will.’

She smiled, but she still looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

‘So you’re saying a quick knee-trembler’s out of the question, are you?’

He shook his head with fond exasperation then bent to kiss her gently on the lips.

‘Until we’re married,’ he said. ‘Then you can have as many as you like.’

‘Right. You’d better take me down the pub, then. Let’s have an engagement party.’

Adam felt like the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo as he entered the bar of the Fleece with Evie on his arm.

All eyes swivelled over to him and he held Evie’s hand up deliberately high, drawing attention to the sparkling diamond on her ring finger.

‘Evening, vicar, Evie,’ said the landlord, looking up from his pump. ‘What’ll it be?’

Evie got in first. 

‘Drinks all round,’ she announced, turning to the room. ‘To celebrate my engagement to our lovely vicar here. Go and tell them outside.’

There was an immediate scrum for the bar. Adam was buffeted this way and that by passing backslappers while the women all crowded around Evie to coo at the ring. A few villagers muttered congratulations to him, but nobody seemed to want to catch his eye.

Indeed, it was Evie who got all the attention while Adam stood on the sidelines, sipping at his mineral water. They moved outside into the beer garden, making the most of the mellow evening sunshine.

At a table by the swings, they spotted Sebastian, Kasia and some of their entourage. Evie ran over to them while Adam followed at a slower pace, rehearsing some lines that he imagined would be immeasurably satisfying to deliver.

‘You’re marrying the vicar?’ Kasia’s tone suggested that Evie had announced her engagement to a toad.

‘Yes, she is,’ he confirmed, pulling up alongside Evie and taking her hand. ‘So I hope you’ll have her P45 ready on Monday morning.’

Sebastian stared. ‘We’re starting filming on a new feature tomorrow. Evie’s the star. After all the press coverage we got, she’s our biggest asset.’

‘Not any more. She’s my biggest asset now.’

‘Can you see the headlines?’ said Kasia slyly. ‘Vicar weds porn star.’

‘I’ll stand by her. I don’t care what anyone says. People can change. And Christianity, after all, is about forgiveness and finding redemption.’

‘I don’t think she’s done anything that needs to be forgiven,’ said Sebastian. ‘And if you do, then you’re not right for her. Evie, have you thought this through? Is it really what you want?’

‘You’ll have to postpone filming Lesbian Discipline,’ said Evie.

‘I can’t. Everything’s set for tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow’ll be too soon,’ she said stonily.

Adam glanced at her. Too soon? What did she mean by that?

He didn’t have time to think about it, though, because he was sharply tugged away by a hand on his forearm.

‘Julia.’

‘You’re engaged to her?’

‘Yes.’

They walked to the barn where functions were sometimes held and stood by the door, leaving Evie with her erstwhile work colleagues.

‘The wedding’ll never happen,’ said Julia bluntly.

‘I’ve booked it. It’s in the church planner. I just need to hire the hall and do something about a reception.’

‘When’s it booked for?’

‘End of the month. The weekend after harvest festival.’

‘Weekend after? Well, if you want to marry her that much, go ahead. But if I were you, I’d get a special license. Marry her before harvest festival.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ll still be alive then.’

‘What the …?’

‘Suggest it to her. Go on. See what she says.’

Adam emptied the bitter dregs of his over-lemony water on to the grass.

‘You aren’t jealous, are you?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am. Why wouldn’t I be, Adam? I love you, after all. But you don’t love me, so there’s an end to it.’

She turned and walked away. Adam looked after her. Something urged him to follow her, to apologise, or plead, or … That curious pull she had. He fought it until she was out of the beer garden and out of sight.

He looked back at Sebastian and Kasia’s table. Evie was no longer there. He scanned the garden, searching for her among the knots of drinkers and laughers, smokers and jokers. She was nowhere to be seen.

He strode over to Sebastian.

‘Where did Evie go?’

Sebastian shrugged.

‘You’ll need to keep tabs on her better than that,’ he said maliciously. ‘She’s gone with the wind, that one.’

The words were an echo of her mother’s warning. Warnings everywhere today. Should he heed them? He was past that now.

He went inside, ducking under the lintel of the low door, pushing through the crush of drinkers, careless of their pints spilling over the rims of the glasses as he shoved. In the lounge bar, no sign of her either. At the foot of the stairs, he was assaulted with a horrible memory of the time she’d been up there with Trevelyan.

No, she wouldn’t be up there now. She wouldn’t. She knew she belonged to him.

Perhaps she had gone back to the vicarage. He crossed the lane hurriedly and ran through the lych gate, calling her name. Then he stopped. He could hear something. It was coming from the church porch.

Heavy breathing, panting, grunting. Someone was having sex right in the doorway of the church.

Recoiling in disgust, but filled with righteous anger, Adam marched up the path towards St Jude’s. The first thing he saw was a hairy male backside, flexing as it thrust, jeans around ankles. A pair of shapely brown legs was wrapped around the man’s waist. The shoes. Those shoes. Those scarlet high heels.

‘No,’ he shouted, lurching forwards. ‘No, you can’t.’

He saw dark curls spilling back, crimson nails clinging to the man’s shoulders.

‘Get off her!’ he screamed, but the man paid no attention at all, intent on his fucking.

Adam felt as if he were in one of those nightmares where your voice won’t come out, however hard you try to yell. It seemed that neither of them could or would hear him.

He tried one last time.

‘Evie!’

She began to gasp and keen.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ she wailed, hanging on to the man for dear life. ‘Fuck yes, I’m coming, lover. Give it to me.’

The man pistoned hard and then roared.

Adam grabbed him around the neck, yanking him back, before punching him hard in the face.

‘Adam!’

Evie looked down at the man’s inert form.

‘You’ll get yourself arrested.’

‘You … You …’ Adam was having no more luck with coherent speech. He stared at Evie, who stared back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last.

The felled man managed to push himself into a sitting position.

‘Sorry, vicar,’ he said. ‘I suppose I asked for that.’

‘You ain’t going to tell, are you, Dan?’

‘No. I’ll get off now, then.’

‘Go and bathe that cut lip, lover.’

‘Yeah.’

Adam simply watched the man shamble off. His eyes wouldn’t seem to stop popping and he felt trapped in something; a thick, oppressive air that stopped up his breath and roared in his ears.

Evie touched his arm. The action brought him back to life and he fended her off before turning to the church wall and resting his head against the cool, rough stone, letting his legs bend until he had slid down to a crouching position, in which he rocked and moaned.

‘Why? Why? Why me, O Lord? Why?’

‘Adam,’ said Evie nervously from somewhere behind him. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t think anyone not from here would. But there was a reason why I had to do that. I didn’t want to. I’d rather wait for you. But something – something means I can’t do that. Oh God, if you can’t forgive me, we’re all lost …’

He turned, sitting with his back to the wall, staring up at her with tear-leaking eyes.

‘What do you mean? What is making you do this? Evie, once and for all, just tell me the truth.’

‘You won’t believe me.’

‘Try me.’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Evie!’

‘But I can show you. At the Harvest Festival. I’ll show you what makes me this – sex machine.’ She laughed miserably. ‘And once we’re married …’

‘Married?’ Adam screwed his eyes shut in a futile effort of resistance against the tears. ‘I’m a laughing stock. You have made me a laughing stock.’

‘If you don’t want me, I can’t make you,’ she whispered. ‘But that’s up to you. I’m leaving it all up to you. Goodnight, lover.’

Through blurred and squinting eyes, Adam watched her back as she swayed up the path to the lych gate.

Everything he wanted in life was contained in those curves, but she had corrupted herself beyond his endurance now. She had been unfaithful to him, and would probably continue to be so. He should never have come back.