The Snares of Death (20 page)

Stephen's fair skin was flushed. ‘I don't know what Becca has to do with it.'

‘Ah, so we're on a first-name basis with the beautiful Becca, are we?' Mark teased. Stephen bit his lip, looking extremely uncomfortable, and Mark went on to Lucy and David, ‘Stephen's in love, you see. With Bob Dexter's daughter.'

Lucy looked interested. ‘What's she like, Stephen?'

‘A vision of loveliness, isn't that right, Stephen?' Mark put in.

Stephen finally spoke, with some asperity. ‘It's all very well for you to joke about it, Mark, but Becca is . . . well, she's just . . . Becca. It doesn't matter who her father is.'

‘It may not matter to you, but I can assure you that it matters to Bob Dexter. I don't think he'd be very amused at the thought of his beloved daughter . . . consorting . . . with a Walsingham priest!' Mark said, laughing.

Amused? He probably wouldn't believe it, David thought. Walsingham priests were not exactly well known for their pursuit of women. But apparently Geoffrey Pickering's nephew was an exception to the rule.

‘My intentions towards Becca are honourable,' Stephen protested. ‘I know that I haven't known her very long, but . . . well, don't you believe in love at first sight?' he appealed to Lucy.

‘It can happen,' she agreed. ‘But I do think you ought to be careful, Stephen. Don't rush into anything.'

‘I won't,' he said. ‘But I've been appointed to a new living, starting in the summer, and I'll be leaving Walsingham, so I have to make the most of the time I've still got here.'

David nodded approvingly.

There were signs that lunch was imminent. ‘We'd better be on our way, Lucy,' David suggested. ‘These reverend gentlemen will be wanting their lunch, and we mustn't detain them.'

CHAPTER 25

    
For thy servant David's sake: turn not away the presence of thine Anointed.

Psalm 132.10

Bob Dexter stood at the church door, greeting his departing parishioners. Most of them bore rather stunned looks on their faces. His sermon had been a great success, he told himself; he'd hit them right between the eyes with the Word of God. They were obviously not used to hearing the Word of God. And of course they were all still reeling from the drastic alterations in the church. Dexter had a good memory for faces, and as he'd met most of the congregation on Monday night, he was able to greet the majority of them by name, thus putting them at even more of a disadvantage. It was most satisfactory.

Alice Barnes attempted to slip out, ungreeted, behind an amply proportioned worshipper, but Bob Dexter was too quick for her; his arm shot out and seized her before she could escape. ‘Miss Barnes.'

Cornered, she retaliated as best she could. ‘Good morning,
Father
Dexter.'

He glared at her. ‘Miss Barnes. You heard what I said in the notices, about the keys. I believe that you possess a key to the church. I would like it back, please. We can't have unauthorised people wandering about in here all the time.'

Her bosom heaved. ‘Unauthorised! I like that! After all I've done for this church . . .'

‘Nevertheless, Miss Barnes, I will have your key back. Right now. You have it with you?'

She was unable to lie. From between her breasts she drew forth a cord, the sort on which scouts wear their whistles; on it dangled the key in question. With all the dignity she could muster, she pulled it over her head and slapped it into Bob Dexter's outstretched hand. She pursed her lips together, gave him a venomous look, and stalked away without a word.

Bob Dexter smiled.

*

‘Aren't we going to look at the Shrine now?' Lucy asked.

‘I just can't cope with it at the moment,' said David, leading her back to the car. ‘I need some lunch first.'

‘Where will we eat?'

‘I always keep a copy of the
Good Food Guide
in the glove box for emergencies like this,' he explained. He soon retrieved the well-thumbed volume and sat in the car for a look. ‘South Barsham,' he suggested after a moment. ‘The Old Schoolhouse. It sounds quite good, and it's very near here. They do vegetarian meals, it says.'

‘Lovely,' she agreed.

Within a quarter of an hour they were sipping another sherry in the building where Gwen Vernon had spent so many years attempting to impart knowledge to largely unreceptive young minds. With Lucy across the table from him, and the prospect of a good meal, David was in very good humour.

‘Well,' he said. ‘Imagine running into “Geoffy's nephew” like that. Small world.'

‘Stephen's a nice chap, isn't he?'

‘Not bad,' he admitted. ‘For Walsingham. And for Geoffrey. How on earth did a nephew of his end up in Holy Orders? Geoffrey doesn't seem exactly like the religious type.'

‘Oh, he's not. None of the family are, in fact. It must have been quite an act of courage – of rebellion, I suppose – for Stephen to go against the family like that and enter the priesthood.'

‘He must have had a strong sense of vocation.'

‘Funny, isn't it? I remember him as a very bright, sensitive boy. And to run into him now, all these years later . . .'

The waitress appeared to take their order. David gave it, then added, ‘And a bottle of champagne, please.'

‘Champagne? Isn't that pushing the boat out a bit, David? And you do have to drive home.'

‘I'll be careful,' he promised. ‘But we do have something to celebrate today. Us.'

Eventually, by the time they'd finished their meal, the champagne gave him the courage to say what he wanted to say. ‘Lucy,' he began. ‘I think we need to talk about our future.'

‘Is that really necessary?' she replied quietly. ‘Can't we just be happy in the present for now?'

He should have read the signs and stopped, but he rushed on, heedless. ‘But it's important to get this settled – to know where we're going. I want to marry you, Lucy. As soon as possible. Say that you'll marry me.'

She looked at his hands, his gentle hands with the badly bitten fingernails; she couldn't bear to look at his face. The silence stretched out painfully; at last she said, so softly that he wasn't sure he'd heard her, ‘No.'

‘What?'

‘No,' she repeated, a little more loudly, then at last raised her eyes to his stricken face. ‘I wish you hadn't asked. I wish you could have just left it . . .'

‘But why not, Lucy? I thought . . . I thought that you loved me. You said . . . Last night . . .'

‘I
do
love you. You must know that. But love isn't everything. It's not always enough. There are other factors . . .'

‘Such as?'

Lucy took a deep breath and attempted to put their discussion on a rational, non-emotive level. ‘Well, David, for one thing, there's the logistics of it all. You live in Wymondham, I live in London. One or the other of us would have to uproot . . .'

‘I don't mind,' he said eagerly, relieved to see such an easy way out. ‘I'll move to London. I could find a job in London without much problem.'

She shook her head. ‘All these things take a lot of thought. You can't just change jobs overnight, because . . .'

David had a sudden, painful thought. ‘I suppose I wasn't good enough in bed,' he ruminated bitterly. ‘Did I disappoint you, Lucy?'

‘Can you seriously ask that?'

‘Then why?' He looked down at his clenched hands. ‘Is it because of . . . my past? What happened before I met you?'

‘No,' she said honestly. ‘The past is the past. I don't know the details – they don't really matter. I have a past, too, you know. If you say that you love me now . . .'

‘I
do
. You must know that I do.'

She met his eyes. ‘It's just too soon, David. That's all. We've been lovers for less than twenty-four hours. Don't you think we need a little more time to adjust?'

‘Then you're not saying that you want to break it off ? To never see me again?'

She laughed aloud. ‘Of course not! Is that what you thought?'

He nodded miserably.

‘I have no intention of breaking it off,' Lucy assured him. ‘Quite the contrary. I just want to give it a bit more time. Don't you understand?'

‘But I'm sure!' he insisted. ‘Aren't you?'

‘Don't you see, my love?' she said gently. ‘It's not a question of being sure. I'm sure that I love you. But there's no hurry. If it's going to last, why then, it
will
last, whether we're married or not. And if not . . . well, isn't it better not to rush into anything permanent?'

‘But you married Geoffrey . . .'

‘Exactly. That's my point. It didn't last, wouldn't have lasted no matter what. I was silly and immature. I thought that if I didn't grab him immediately, he'd change his mind, or find someone else.'

‘I don't want you to find someone else,' David admitted wretchedly.

‘And you think that being married will keep that from happening?' Lucy laughed again, reaching for his hand. ‘I can assure you, my darling, that I'm not looking for anyone else. And if
you're
going to start looking elsewhere . . .'

‘Of course I'm not!' David was stung. ‘Is that what you think? That this is just a phase I'm going through, and that eventually I'll go back to . . .'

‘No, David. I don't think that at all. But if . . . well, as I said, we haven't had much time together, to test our commitment.'

‘I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you,' David stated stubbornly, desperately. ‘I'm not going to change my mind like I did . . . the last time.'

She squeezed his hand. ‘I'm not saying that I'll never marry you – just that I think we must take our time. Let's give it a year, David darling. We can spend the weekends together, see how it works. And then . . . well, we'll see. If you still want me by then, that is!' she added with a smile.

David sighed. It would have to do.

However, he was far from happy. After lunch he declined once again to visit the Shrine and drove straight back to Wymondham in near silence.

Lucy, too, was silent for most of the drive, thinking about what had gone wrong. The last thing she'd wanted to do was to hurt David. She wished fervently that he hadn't pressed the issue of marriage. She didn't really blame him for being upset – it was only natural, she supposed, that he should think of marriage as the next logical step in their relationship, and should take her refusal as a personal rejection. Lucy realised that the problem was with her: the disastrous failure of her first marriage had scarred her very deeply, and made her excessively cautious about making such a commitment again. She even questioned, in her own mind, the viability of the institution; she'd seen so many unhappy people in so many miserable marriages. Even her best friend Emily Neville, who enjoyed what was widely considered a ‘perfect marriage', was not without problems; last summer she had briefly but dramatically left her cleric-husband, the beautiful and gifted Gabriel, in circumstances and for reasons that Lucy had never really understood. But whatever her own hang-ups, marriage was evidently very important to David, who was, she knew, a most conventional man. Lucy determined that she'd try to keep an open mind, and to make it up to him as best she could. She didn't want to lose him, of that she was certain.

CHAPTER 26

    
I have hated them that hold of superstitious vanities: and my trust hath been in the Lord.

Psalm 31.7

‘Becca, darling,' Bob Dexter said over lunch on Monday. ‘I've got to go out this afternoon. There's a meeting at Gates of Heaven, a “MISSION: Walsingham” meeting. Have you got enough to keep you busy for a few hours?'

‘I've done all your letters already,' she replied. ‘And I'm up-to-date on the filing. I was wondering,' she added hesitantly, looking at her father through lowered lashes, ‘if you'd mind if I had an hour or two off ? Miss Barnes and Miss Vernon have asked me to tea.'

Dexter frowned. ‘I'd really rather you didn't. I don't like you spending time with those women. They're not suitable company for you. You should be spending your free time with people around your own age, and people who think the same way we do – someone like Toby Gates, for instance.'

Becca chewed her lip. ‘Please, Daddy? They're harmless, really. And they mean well.' She bestowed on her father the smile that always got her what she wanted.

‘Well . . .' Stroking his chin, he considered. She was right, he supposed. What harm could it do?

‘I'm seeing Toby tomorrow night,' Becca added in propitiation.

‘Oh, all right, Princess,' he conceded, patting her arm; he was rewarded with a fleeting look of such intense gratitude that he thought he must have imagined it. ‘But mind you're back in plenty of time for family prayers before supper.'

This time Bob Dexter took care that he was not the last one to arrive at Gates of Heaven; in fact, only Noah Gates and his son were in the board room when Dexter entered. The room was dominated by the huge fluorescent ‘MISSION: Walsingham' banner behind Noah Gates's seat at the head of the table.

‘Good afternoon, Noah.' Gates acknowledged the greeting with a nod. ‘Toby! How nice to see you again!'

‘Hello, sir,' Toby replied, surprised and gratified by the warmth in Dexter's voice.

‘I understand that you're seeing Becca again tomorrow night.' Dexter clapped the young man on the shoulder with a smile.

‘Yes, sir. I thought that we might go back to the restaurant where we ate last week.'

‘So this is becoming a regular thing! Be careful, young man, or you'll be stealing my Becca's heart away from her old dad.' Dexter's smile was no longer altogether genial.