Divine Death: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 4)

by Penelope Cress

  “Really?” Cindy smiled. “All those virginal young things dancing around the maypole. All seems pretty phallic to me. Would you like another cup? No? Right, well let’s get back to your vision then. Was there a lot of blood?”

  Tizzy

  I returned home to find the kitchen table covered in fabric swatches and pictures of hipster eateries. Mum and Rosie were comparing wallpaper designs. At the far end, Luke was sharing headphones with an unusually coy Tizzy. Their fidgety moves clear signs of the attraction they both felt for each other. It was almost primal. Musky. Intoxicating. Teenagers! Ugh! I needed coffee.

  I kissed Mum and Rosie on their cheeks and made my apologies, citing paperwork and the need to take advantage of Luke being distracted to get onto my computer. Tizzy was making herself at home. She seemed a lovely young woman, but I admit her past troubled me. It didn’t seem of concern to the rest of my family, and certainly not to Luke. I was probably being overprotective. And I was probably reading too much into their body language. All that talk of seed sowing and heaving blossoms from Cindy had corrupted me.

  Anyway, his mother and grandmother are a couple of feet away. What harm was there in being hospitable to a new neighbour? I fired up the computer and set to work through my To-Do pile. As usual, Barbara had efficiently labelled my correspondence with handy Post-It notes so I could clear through everything in about half an hour, giving me plenty of time to look into the provable things my aunt talked about, namely the history of St. Bridget’s and the nuns who used to live here.

  I was deep into a website on the Rules of St. Benedict when there was a gentle knock on the door.

  “Reverend Ward, may I come in?”

  The door cracked open a few inches and a pair of eager eyes peeked through the gap.

  “Of course, Tizzy. How can I help?”

  Tizzy wandered around my office studying the various books on display with far more interest than I had ever shown them. They came with the vicarage and looked impressive, but I had no idea what hidden gems filled the shelves.

  “I love old books, don’t you? Do you mind?” Without waiting for my answer, she pulled out a dusty green hardback and scanned the index. “Perhaps S.H.A.S. would be interested in this one. It’s the history of the parish by one of your predecessors.” She flipped back to the title page. “A Reverend Algernon Fortescue. Sounds cute.”

  “Anything, in particular, I can help you with? I’m rather busy.” The harshness in my voice as I spoke surprised me. I wasn’t at all busy. Maybe I was just tired.

  “Oh, yes, sorry Reverend. It’s just… I wanted to talk to you. About my past.” She walked over to the fireplace and paced back and forth, adding physical momentum to the words she had to get out. “I want to make a clean start and, well, I know the last time you saw me my tits were hanging out of a cotton tunic, but I am out of that game now. Honest. I am thinking of going back to college. Maybe to study literature or something. I love to read. I… well, my mother, she’s an addict. Any money went on her habit, not the rent... anyway, someone had to pay the bills.” She stopped pacing and looked at me, directly. “I never slept with the punters, you know. Nothing like that. I mean, if those sad bastards want to pay to see me dance around in my nightie... what’s the harm, eh? It’s their money.”

  Tizzy was clearly an admirably resilient young woman. “I’m sorry you had to work in a place like that.”

  “Well, no one would work there if they didn’t need to, would they?”

  “No, I suppose not.” I was angry at myself for my naïve comments. “Do you mind me asking, how old you were?”

  “Fifteen, I think. Not Stavros’s fault, I told him I was older. I mean, he might have guessed, he never asked for my birth certificate or anything.”

  “Stavros, he’s the club’s owner, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s actually a proper gent. Looks after his girls. Paid us well, made sure we all got home safe and stuff.”

  I imagined he was more concerned with protecting his assets than their safety, but who am I to judge, except that is exactly what I had been doing. He who is without sin. “What made you leave?”

  “Dad came to one of my shows! Can you believe it? I haven’t seen him since I was a baby. He rocked up with some business clients and well… I recognised him straight away. Mum kept a photo of them both taken at the funfair on the mantel. I’d studied that photo so closely, I knew every laughter line. He looked just the same.”

  Tizzy had settled herself down with Fortescue’s history on the chair by the fire. I felt the need to join her. It was obvious she wanted to talk, and I would do a better job of listening away from my desk.

  “So, what did you do? Did he recognise you?” I asked.

  “I carried on dancing. One thing you learn really quickly in that game is that no one is looking at your face. Anyway, the last time he saw me I was still in nappies. My arse has changed a lot since then!” Tizzy closed the book and fixed me with an anxious stare. “I’m sorry. You must think me really... What’s the word? Uncouth. No, vulgar. Talking of tits and arses. I forget I’m with a priest sometimes. I don’t mean to offend.”

  “No offence taken, I assure you. Please continue.”

  “Well, when the number was over, I explained to Stavros why I couldn’t go back out there. He was furious at first. I was his… let's say my ‘dance of the seven veils’ had quite the following. There would be some seriously pissed, I mean, angry, punters. He threatened to not pay me. The rent was due. I mean, I was desperate, so we struck a deal. I would earn my keep that evening waitressing and he wouldn't give me the sack. But I owed him one. Still do. I quit the next day.”

  “So how did you end up living here with your father then?”

  “I served his table. Waitresses are even more invisible than dancers. I told him we had a problem with his credit card and the payment may have gone through twice. I asked him to leave his details behind so we could contact him if there was a need to refund him. Total nonsense, of course, but he was too drunk to process what I was asking him for.”

  I shuddered to think how the men in these clubs behaved after a few drinks and what these poor girls had to deal with. “I hope your father did nothing inappropriate?” I blurted out and immediately chastised myself for vocalising such a disgusting idea.

  Fortunately, Tizzy appeared to find the idea very amusing. “No, thank God! He was adorable. His business partners were a little frisky. Those chiffon tunics don’t offer much protection, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Anyway, I got what I wanted and went around to see him the following day.”

  Tizzy pulled her denim-wrapped legs under her and rested the closed book on her lap. For a moment she seemed to drift away, then with a sigh, she added, “I have never been so scared in my entire life. I mean, nothing gets to me, you know. But it was like I was returning home the conquering hero after an epic adventure. I was saying to Luke the other day…”

  “You told Luke all this?” It surprised me; their friendship was obviously stronger than I realised.

  “Of course! I tell him everything. He’s such a brilliant listener. Most guys aren’t interested in what I have to say. Anyway, it’s like you’ve been on this quest, searching for the magic key that will unlock your heart’s desire and then it’s like there, within your grasp and it could all turn to dust.”

  “But you have a happy ending?” I offered.

  “Yes, the happiest. Dad has been wonderful. He asked me to live with him and helped find Mum somewhere to get help. She’s where all those celebrities go to dry out. And I get hot showers every day and the chance to get to know him.” I wanted to enquire more about the showers but checked myself. Clearly, someone struggling to meet the rent might also have issues with paying for boiler repairs or even gas or electric. “I mean, Reverend, he ain’t no saint, and he still buggered off and left us when I was a child, but I’ll take this over my old life any day. Which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you.”

  I had forgott
en Tizzy had started this conversation. What could she want from me? “Go on, if there is anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  “I want to be the Queen of the May!”

  Through fresh eyes

  Friday morning began, as usual, with my weekly visit to the primary school to join their assembly. Every Friday passed much the same. The school secretary, Audrey, was thawing to me gradually, but I knew we would never be best friends. I was getting to know the other teachers but looked forward most to my weekly chats with the head teacher, Lawrence Pixley, who was in an ebullient mood.

  “Fantastic news, Jess, the school is getting a makeover!” The school was very shabby, and a lot of general maintenance was long overdue. If duct tape ever becomes a design trend, Cliffview Primary would be a show home. “It seems we are a beneficiary in Lord Somerstone’s will. Such generosity!” Lawrence clapped his hands excitedly. “Lady Arabella visited yesterday, there’s just one small caveat.”

  I eyed Lawrence sceptically. My experience with the late Geoffrey Somerstone made me nervous to ask what conditions he had placed on this bequest. Lawrence’s raised eyebrows suggested he wanted me to ask, so I swallowed hard and ventured, “What, Lawrence? I can’t even begin to guess at the inner workings of that man’s mind.”

  “We have to rename the school.” Lawrence stretched his lanky frame to its most commanding to deliver the next line, “You are looking at the principal of the Somerstone Academy for Education and the Arts.”

  “Impressive. I am delighted. So how much money are we talking? Enough to give the reception area a lick of paint, I hope.”

  Lawrence bent back down and took hold of my shoulders. It was impossible for him to contain his excitement. “Jess, there are millions of pounds in trust. Arabella will become our patron and I want you to sit on the board. We are going to create a forward-thinking, technologically enhanced centre for the creative development of young minds. I can hire new teachers, build new classrooms. There will be a garden, vegetable plots, a zip-wire!”

  “A zip-wire?”

  “Yes, from the mound at the back of the playground. The kids will love it. And we will open the new resources to the community. That’s why I need you to work with me on this.”

  I had never really noticed what handsome eyes Lawrence had before. Admittedly, I had never noticed his face full stop. It was a kind face, with features as gentle as he was, but his constant sniffing had always distracted me. I was also acutely aware of his habit of pushing his glasses back up his nose as a punctuation mark at the end of each sentence... That’s what’s missing! Is he wearing contacts? I tried to look, without looking, to see if I could see that telltale circular rim around his irises. I couldn’t see a lens, but they were an interesting agate green. This was now feeling a tad awkward. Lawrence still had my shoulders in his grasp. I felt the need to say something, anything to ease the tension.

  “Love you. Love to. I mean, I would love to work with you on this. Sorry, just got carried away with…” Jess, don’t say your eyes whatever you say, don’t say your eyes. “Your ey-excitement!” Nice catch!

  “Wonderful, I was thinking, if you have time, of course, we could discuss the plans. Maybe over dinner? Er, tonight? I hear that the Old School House has a Spring Lamb special, A two for one offer. Not that I wouldn’t spring for the full price, sorry awful pun.”

  “Tonight? Can I get back to you? The family has some Beltane thing planned….”

  “I understand.” He shrunk back like a deflated Air Dancer outside a car showroom.

  “No, I want to. Honestly, I’ve never eaten at the Old School House and… I just need to check, okay? After this, I will pop home and ask Mum. I’m sure they can go ahead without me.”

  My cheeks burned throughout the school assembly. I was very aware of Lawrence standing beside me. There was a buzz, a frisson. Even the children singing ‘All things bright and beautiful’ couldn’t dampen this fresh energy. Their normal cacophony appeared temporarily replaced by a heavenly choir. God’s light filtered through the skylights, washing the hall with an amber glow. The squeaky melodicas were in harmony with their angelic little voices, and miraculously in time with their headmaster’s accordion. The recorders were still a little pitchy, but the overall effect was delightful.

  I skipped back to the vicarage. When I say ‘skipped’ I mean I trotted more lightly than usual. I cut through the graveyard. Tizzy was helping Luke feed the local wild cats. I had never seen him smile so freely. I waved at them as I passed but didn’t stop to chat. I was sure they preferred to be alone, and I wanted to catch my mother before she set off. She was so busy lately, helping Rosie to get everything organised for the new cafe.

  “You look nice this morning, dear. Is that a new blusher? A bit of make-up makes all the difference. You should wear it more often.” Balanced on the second to last step on the stairs, Mum was dangling a cat toy of silver bells and coloured feathers into the hall. Hugo, the family’s adopted ball of claws and sinus threatening dander, was in full primal hunting mode, determined to catch his bouncy prey.

  “Mum, I’m not wearing any make-up. I must be just a little flushed from the walk back from the school. By the way, glad I caught you. When I was around Cindy’s yesterday, she mentioned that it's Beltane and I wanted to check if you had anything witchy planned because I might need to excuse myself. I have a prior engagement.” That’s only an acceptable little white lie, right? I am sure the Boss has bigger concerns right now.

  “Yes, I thought we could all run naked through the graveyard. Pamela’s been cutting back on the carbs in preparation.” She laughed. “Why...” Mum abandoned the game and moved in closer, her eyes interrogating my face and smiled, “Have you got a date?”

  How does she do that?

  “I have a business meeting with Lawrence Pixley to discuss plans for the school. Seems we aren’t the only ones remembered in Geoffrey Somerstone’s will.”

  “Hmm.” As usual, Mum’s mood soured at the mention of that name. “Is there anything His Lordship doesn’t have his tentacles in? Well, I suppose at least this is to do some good.”

  My mother was still struggling with the long shadow Lord Somerstone’s involvement with our family continued to cast. I hugged her. Unusually, she seemed happy to receive it. As I pulled away, I cupped her face in my hands.

  “And his legacy is going to do us good too,” I said. “It’s giving Rosie a fresh start and I am sure we can put my share to good works in the community.”

  “I know. It’s okay, dear. I’m getting used to the idea. Funny old world, eh? So you and the headmaster. He seems like a good man. Tall. Blond. Musical. There’s a bit of the Peter O’Toole about him, I suppose.”

  “Yes, seems his mother was a fan, hence his name. After Lawrence of -”

  “Arabia!”

  “Exactly. And it’s not a date, Mum. Just business. There’s a two for one offer at the Old School House.”

  “Of course, just business, I understand,” Mum smirked at her reflection in the hall stand mirror. “Don’t you worry about Beltane, dear. Sounds like you’re heeding the call of the Green Man in another way.”

  Quote, unquote

  Calling Lawrence back to accept his dinner invitation threw my stomach into more knots than a tub of two-day-old cockles from the stall on Harbour Quay. In fact, I had barely eaten anything all day and had only had one cup of coffee so far. Maybe it was tea and biscuit withdrawal. Usually, by this time of day, my stomach would be swimming in digestives and PG tips. Never fear, there was bound to be a kettle on in the hall where I was eager to catch up with Professor Cheadle and Dr DeVere.

  Opening the heavy main doors was likely to disturb the group's concentration. I wanted to take some time to observe proceedings before shattering their deliberations with the resound of slamming oak and iron, so I entered through the side door as quietly as possible. If people knew that the lock on the door was so rusty that we never secured it anymore, the altar candlesticks would be on eB
ay before we could say ‘holy communion’. Therefore, it was a secret entrance privy to only a trusted few. It took several weeks before Phil took me into his confidence, and it’s my church!

  There was a knack to opening it quietly, though. The trick was to push with just enough force to budge the door from its ancient frame anchor without setting the heavy cast iron handle a knocking. In the winter, when the wood freezes, that’s almost impossible, but I hoped that the warm sun had warmed it up just enough to enter as quietly as the proverbial church mouse. I felt like a criminal, but it worked. Soon I was lurking in the curtains of the Lady Chapel. The acoustics were perfect, and I was safely out of sight.

  Tom had set up the trestle table from the Hall in front of the altar and they had added more boxes. I tried to count them, but Sebastian DeVere was partly obstructing my view. He had a clipboard in his hand and was diligently taking notes as Norman Cheadle paced up and down the altar, gesticulating as if he was the keynote speaker at a political rally. Isadora was sitting with Tom in the front pew, hanging on Norman’s every word.

  “The overarching question remains. Do these figures qualify as Venuses? In ‘Celtic Civilisation and its heritage’. Cite Filip. Note Sebastian to check the year of publication. Where was I? Ah yes, In Filip’s seminal tome he reminded us that Macrobius, quote ‘Holds this squatting position to be characteristic of deities of fertility and fecundity.’ Unquote. Hence the lack of arms. They are intentionally part of the moulded sculpture in a form people of the time would have easily recognised as being that of a woman in labour. There can be no dispute, therefore, that like the famous Venus de Willendorf, these incredible finds are indeed Venuses.”

  As Norman finished, Isadora rose to her feet and applauded loudly. Sebastian slung his clipboard under his arm and joined in. Tom’s response was rather more subdued. He was the first to speak.

  “Great, well. I suggest we break for lunch. I’m amazed you have any voice left.” Tom dramatically checked his watch. “My, just over an hour. DeVere, you poor boy, your wrist must be fit to falling off! I will get the sandwiches out of the fridge. I am sure Barbara has put together a charming spread.” And with a flick of his hand to gesture that they should all follow him through to the hall, Tom marched away.