He'd been married, if the stories were true, and tragically his wife had died. He was young, living alone, probably desperately lonely, sexually frustrated. Priests are not without the same needs and desires as other men. He could easily be telling himself he needed some female company, a friendship, someone to relax with. And more? Surely he couldn't be planning an adulterous affair with her? That would be against the faith he preached.
Fleetingly, sinfully, she cast him in the role of her lover, gripped by such desire for her that he broke his vows or promises, or whatever priests are supposed to live by, and made passionate love to her while Gary was away. It was graphic and easy to picture, this image of him naked as she'd almost seen him once, only this time he was here with her, in this cottage, in her own bed, tender, adoring, passionate and vigorous.
She stood up, hot from her fantasy.
Ridiculous.
She was an adult, a member of the church, a wife. She'd agreed to take on a job for the church, and that was all. He'd recognised her qualities, her calmness under pressure, and seen that she was the right person to manage the accounts. That was reality.
Yet in bed that night she imagined the other thing and heard him saying "Trust me?" so clearly that his head could have been on the pillow beside her.
"Otis," she said. "Otis Joy."
Eight
Scandals about the clergy usually break in the Sunday press just before the faithful go to worship. The story headed BISHOP'S LEAP OF SHAME was no exception. The village shop had sold out of the News of the World by nine-thirty, and the sense of shock had turned to a quirkish mood of high spirits and even some amusement by the eleven o'clock service. Bishops have always been figures of fun-from a distance. The Reverend Joy had never shirked an issue yet, so how would he deal with the Bend Over Bishop and Madam Swish's telephone service:
He was on form. "Flagellation," he opened his sermon, and the pews creaked with the clenching of buttocks. "We Christians know plenty about it, or should. 'Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one,' St. Paul tells us. 'Thrice was I beaten with rods.' Our Lord himself was scourged."
No one was amused any more.
"Through all the ages, saints, monks, nuns and penitents have punished themselves, or been punished with whips, canes and birches. It was thought to be cleansing, a penance. So how does a penance become a perversion? When it turns you on. If it's about penitence, okay. If you enjoy it, no, no. Then it's masochism."
The shocking word carried up the old stone walls and sounded off the roof. Joy paused, and lowered his voice. "The papers tell us-and we all believe the papers, don't we? — that Marcus, our bishop, indulged in flagellation. How? On the phone, using a credit card. His actions harmed nobody. And afterwards he was found dead. End of story. Pretty depressing stuff. You wouldn't think so, reading the papers-and, in case you're wondering, I saw them too. They play up every salacious detail, as they always do when the clergy are caught out. Yes, we expect our bishops to be of good character. Marcus strayed from the path, if this report is true. Who has not done a foolish, humiliating thing at some time in his life? I don't mind telling you I have. I try to lead the good life, and sometimes I fail. Let's take a moment now to think about our own moments of weakness and shame." He paused.
No one even cleared his throat.
"And now imagine the worst of all scenarios: not just that your sin is trumpeted to the entire nation, but that all the good things you did in your life are downgraded by this act. Now hear the word of the Lord. 'He that is without sin among you, let him cast first a stone.'"
It was a chastened congregation that filed out into the sunshine.
Monday's scrabble evening with George Mitchell had to be put off. The Parochial Church Council met at the rectory to appoint the new treasurer. It was the first full attendance in a long time. After the usual opening prayer, Otis Joy said, "A problem, ladies and gentlemen. Two names have been put forward, one from Geoff Elliott, the other from me. If I vacate the chair, as I wish to in this case, Geoff, your vice-chairman, should take over, but…" He smiled.
Norman Gregor, the churchwarden who farmed the fields below the village, took over the chair. He invited Elliott to speak first, and a fine case he made for Burton Sands. "This young man is extremely keen to take up the post and there's no question as to his competence, accountancy being his profession. He's a regular attender at services. True, he hasn't been confirmed yet, but he's been attending the rector's confirmation group, and I don't see that anyone could object if we invited him to become our treasurer. A more able and committed candidate would be hard to find."
Gregor said with a twinkle in his eye, "But the rector believes he has found one. Over to you, Rector."
The meeting was treated to a tour de force in the art of persuasion. Like a beaten man Joy sighed and spread his hands. "These decisions are tough, aren't they? You've heard the case for Burton. Who could top it? Rachel Jansen isn't an accountant. She's less keen than Burton to take the job. Less confident. I had to sell the idea to her. So what are her qualifications? Like Burton, she's in church every Sunday. She's active in charity work and well known in the village for house-to-house collections and the support she gives to all our social events. A calm, intelligent woman unlikely to ruffle feathers."
"Why isn't she on the PCC already?" someone interrupted.
"Fair point. Rachel is one of those people who don't push themselves forward. She's not pushy. I've discovered in my short career in the church that it's worth making the effort to persuade such people to get involved. The reason we're having this discussion is that none of you wants to be treasurer. We're forced to look outside the PCC. Now that Rachel and I have talked, she'd like to be considered for the post."
"You fancy yourself as a talent-spotter, Rector," commented Peggy Winner, the third churchwarden.
"I just believe she could do the job."
The chairman said with a smile, "Let's have the sub-text, Rector. What's your objection to Mr. Sands?"
"No objection at all. I know Burton well from the confirmation group. You have to admire his persistence. He's a stickler for detail."
"Isn't that what you want in a treasurer?"
"Yes, it's essential."
Peggy said, "It's a question of how it's done, isn't it? Maybe the rector thinks Burton doesn't have the delicate touch a woman has."
"That's unfair," said Elliott.
"The rector didn't say it," the chairman pointed out, "and I don't think he's finished yet."
Joy nodded. "I wouldn't suggest we give the job to Rachel because she's a woman. After all, our last treasurer was a man and he was a model of tact. You only had to watch Stanley being gently diplomatic when some old dear got her sums wrong."
"But we don't want a doormat for treasurer," Elliott couldn't resist pointing out.
"Rachel is no doormat, Geoff," said Joy.
"I wasn't speaking personally."
"Right." He played his trump card. "There's just one thing I would add. Whoever takes on the post automatically becomes a member of this council. I (may be speaking out of turn, but I think we'll find meetings going on rather longer if Burton is here than they do at present. He likes the sound of his voice and he's strong on points of order."