A Crowded Coffin(39)

‘I used to drink too much,’ he confessed. ‘Then – oh, I don’t know, I realized one day that a talkative drunk doesn’t make an ideal clergyman, so I stopped.’

Edith was touched and wondered if there had been more to it; the shadow on his face suggested as much. She changed the subject and they swapped stories of student days, Edith filling him in on her experiences with the rich and famous in California, while he had her laughing helplessly at tales of some of the eccentrics he’d encountered in his first curacy.

‘I didn’t really want to enter the Church,’ he mused. ‘It was my grandmother’s idea and to be honest, she bribed me to do it.’

Edith sat and stared at him, round-eyed, so that he burst out laughing.

‘Don’t look so horrified. It was one of those cases where Granny knew best. She insisted that I’d be happy in the Church and she was right, though I refused even to consider it to begin with. I read English but when she suggested I go to theological college with a view to taking orders, the incentive of having her leave me her not inconsiderable fortune weighed pretty heavily.’

His eyes danced with cynical amusement. ‘Then she left the lot to the National Trust with a note to me, saying that, like cream and scum, I was the sort who would always bob up to the top, and that she knew I would prefer her to follow her conscience.’

As they lingered over their coffee John leaned back in his chair, looking at Edith with a considered expression. ‘I’m intrigued by your friend, Harriet Quigley,’ he said. ‘She’s a real character, isn’t she? What’s her story?’

A character? Edith had to hide a smile, picturing Harriet’s outrage at the description. ‘Harriet’s great,’ she said. ‘She was head at my school, but she’s also a distant cousin of my grandfather. What is it that intrigues you about her?’

‘She seems to know all about everyone,’ he shrugged. ‘Not that anyone’s accused her of being a gossip, but there’s a feeling that Harriet is a power to be reckoned with. And what about Sam Hathaway? Do you know him well?’

‘Harriet’s definitely not a gossip.’ Edith sounded indignant but settled her ruffled feathers. ‘I don’t know Sam very well but his wife was head of English at my school, and Harriet’s best friend too. I was upset when she died about four years ago and I should think Harriet was devastated.’ She thought for a moment, John was still looking interested. ‘I believe Sam was a parish priest before Mrs Hathaway died, that’s how he became an honorary canon of the cathedral, but now he’s working in the Diocesan Office. I suppose he gave up his parish when his wife died, but I don’t really know. He’s nice, though.’ She glanced at John. ‘Do you like him?’

‘I’ve not had any dealings with him,’ was the answer. ‘But he’s well regarded and certainly seems very pleasant.’

That seemed to be the end of the conversation and Edith took a surreptitious look at her watch. Dinner had been delicious and John was good company, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to create an opening whereby she could find out about his interest in her home.

Oh well, she decided. It’s now or never, but as she opened her mouth to speak, John leaned forward.

‘I’d like to tell you about my wife.’ He spoke abruptly, looking down at his coffee cup, then back at her. ‘Do you mind? Or would it bother you?’

She was nonplussed; it began to seem as though he might be making a play for her, but there could only be one answer to such a question. ‘Of course, tell me whatever you want. I’m so sorry about your wife’s death. I didn’t meet her when I was home at Christmas but it was such a brief visit, only a few days, and then I went up to my mother’s in Scotland. I think your wife wasn’t well at the time.’

He looked away from her, then began. ‘Gillian was a few years older.’ He shrugged and said, ‘Well, to be honest, there was nearly ten years between our ages but it never made any difference. A high-flying career in the City had done two things for her: it made her very wealthy but eventually it burned her out, so she was looking for a complete change of lifestyle when we met. She was extremely beautiful and I fell for her like a ton of bricks; it was only a month or so after my grandmother died, just over five years ago, and I suppose I had some idea of replacing the family I’d lost. My parents were killed when I was twelve and Granny brought me up so we were very close, even long after I was ordained.

‘Anyway, it was pushing it, at her age, to think about babies, and she always said she didn’t want them, but all of a sudden it somehow became the most important thing in the world to her. She had various tests and it was when it became clear she couldn’t have children that she began to change. By then I’d found that Granny was right and that being in orders suited me down to the ground, so I was happy in my job. I tried to persuade Gill that I loved her for herself, that we could make a life without children, but she wouldn’t believe me.’