calm but even from where I sat I could hear the steel in his rebuke.
‘Ask him why there’s no congregation worth speaking of! Ask him what’s happened to the choir. Ask him why there’s been a mass exodus to other churches. Ask him why we may have to deconsecrate some of the churches in the benefice! He can’t lead his flock, all he can do is bleat at them in the most tedious of sermons. He’s a waste of space!’
There was a terrible silence. Tang’s hand hoveredin mid-air, as if he didn’t dare break the silence by so much as a click of plastic on wood. What did he make of it? It must be like being a small child whose parents were having a row: he didn’t know the words, but the sounds were angry and threatening. I took his spare hand, squeezed it reassuringly, and managed a smile. If anyone could tear holes in that tissue of prejudice, Andy could.
Surely.
‘We are not discussing the performance or otherwise of your parish priest, gentlemen. And if we were, I would not listen to you until you could moderate your language and demonstrate the truth of what you are saying.’
Good on you!
‘Meanwhile, let us return to the question before us: what do we do with the young man who has availed himself of the age old
custom
of sanctuary?’
‘We keep him here until we can hear from his lips what he has – or hasn’t – done!’
‘That may take some time, Tim, but it’s the option I personally favour. Then, if it’s clear he has deliberately committed a crime, we must insist he hands himself over to the police. The Church has never been in the business of protecting malefactors. What we need is an interpreter.’
‘Mrs Welford has a contact –’ Tim began.
‘One of her fancy men? Surely we can do better than that,’ Malins sneered.
Andy’s turn. ‘And would your choice be honest, trustworthy and discreet?’
‘Would Josie Welford’s paramour be?’
Tang was peering at my face like a puppy who knows his owner is upset. I smiled, determined to convince him that I wasn’t both furiously angry and deeply hurt.
‘Josie is a good woman!’ came Tim’s furious voice.
‘More like the woman of Samaria, if you ask me!’
Andy’s voice again. ‘And it was she, and not Nicodemus, who listened to Christ’s words and spread the good news.’
‘Oh, good news isn’t the only thing Josie puts around, believe me!’
Many years ago, I had cursed Nick Thomas. It was a Romany curse, ill-wishing him for sending my Tony down for the last time. Life hadn’t exactly been kind to Nick himself since then, and I often lay awake wondering to what extent I’d been responsible for his suffering. That was one of the factors that stopped me stepping forward now, and repeating the performance. The other was the company – visible and Invisible. Should I simply step into their circle and see what effect that had on my accusers, or let the other men defend me?
Andy spoke very sternly. ‘I will not listen to you! You have denigrated the skills of your priest, and now you assassinate the character of a good friend to this congregation. Leave this place immediately.And before you present yourself for Communion again, study the advice in the Prayer Book. Good day to you, gentlemen.’
There was the sound of chairs being pushed back.
‘You haven’t heard the last of this, young man!’ Corbishley’s threat came as a hiss. It was transformed into a gasp as he strode out of the Lady Chapel and realised that Tang was not alone.
Would he offer an apology? He turned on his heel and approached us as if he might. But as he came within range, he leaned forward and, his spittle flying on to my face, declared, ‘Listeners never hear any good of themselves – do they?’
Quite inadvertently, as I flinched, I turned the other cheek. But I said, as quietly as I could, ‘And I suppose you are fitted to throw the first stone?’
I suppose it was better manners than cursing. But it turned him a purplish-red, and I was
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