afraid for a moment he would have a heart attack. As for Malins, he went greenish grey.
I didn’t let my gaze drop.
Tony had instilled into me that in the face of criticism or hostility I should never betray my feelings. I was to remain calm, my face impassive, trying not to let my breathing speed up. Keeping the outward and visible under control, he said, would help with the inward and private. I’d used the technique with success time and time again during police questioning or in the witness box. I neverthought I’d have to use it in circumstances like this.
The church wardens gave one more apoplectic glare apiece and stomped off. After the slam of the heavy door, you could feel the silence.
There was a sudden scurry.
Tim had gone. And where was Tang? Andy was turning tail and dragging open the church door, as fast as he could. I followed, my adrenaline taking longer to flow but at last unlocking torpid limbs.
Tim brought Tang down in a rugby tackle just inside the lychgate. Andy gathered them both up, propelling them back towards me to be shooed back inside and cosseted.
‘He knows he’s got us into some sort of trouble,’ I said, holding him tightly and patting his back. All I could feel was bones. ‘You should have seen him while Corbishley and Malins were ranting.’
Tim might have been grinding his teeth, he looked so angry. As for Andy, he had disappeared into the kitchen, and soon emerged with mugs, which he parked on a chair. Nodding almost apologetically, he withdrew to the Lady Chapel.
Still holding Tang, I stretched out an arm to include Tim. I ached with pity for him. During his tenure as priest in charge, he’d done his very best with limited experience and probably sketchy support, and now he’d got that sort of criticism.
As for me, I’d never had a best to do as far as men were concerned. I’d embraced the menopauseas an opportunity to enjoy a side of life denied me for thirty-odd years. I saw my no strings sex as simply a source of pleasure, and while I’d never made a song and dance about my choice, had never made any particular effort to keep it quiet. Now it had blown back into my face. I must learn to live with it.
Tim, on the other hand, had learned that in some people’s eyes he had failed not in his career, but in his calling. Tony would have told him he’d had a learning experience (wherever had the old devil picked up such lingo?) and that he was young enough to benefit from it.
As for Tang, he had done his best to save us from further internecine strife, even at the risk of his own life: he was the hero of the moment and somehow I must tell him so. Pushing away from them, I embarked on a complicated little mime Marcel Marceau would have applauded, telling him he was kind, but mustn’t do it again. How much did he take in? He was as inscrutable as any clichéd Chinaman.
Andy came back into the nave as we were in the middle of our group hug. He might have been about to join us, but there was another knock at the door. This time it was Annie, who had somehow laid hands on a huge quantity of paper and fat felt pens and what looked like a Chinese-English dictionary.
‘I don’t know whether it’s the right sort of Chinese,’ she apologised, ‘but it’s the best TauntonOxfam can do. The other thing is, perhaps he can draw pictures to convey what made him come here.’
They withdrew to what had become Tang’s corner, close to both the altar and the Calorgas heater.
‘Do you think we could switch off the wall-heaters to save the church some money?’ Tim ventured. Did he think that would appease the church wardens?
‘It won’t be the church paying: it’ll be me,’ I said. ‘And I like my warmth, thanks very much.’
‘You’re being very generous,’ Andy began. His throat moved as convulsively as Tim’s. This wasn’t going to be an easy five minutes for either of us, was it?
‘It seems to me that my being here isn’t helping Tang’s cause,’ I said
I didn’t let my gaze drop.
Tony had instilled into me that in the face of criticism or hostility I should never betray my feelings. I was to remain calm, my face impassive, trying not to let my breathing speed up. Keeping the outward and visible under control, he said, would help with the inward and private. I’d used the technique with success time and time again during police questioning or in the witness box. I neverthought I’d have to use it in circumstances like this.
The church wardens gave one more apoplectic glare apiece and stomped off. After the slam of the heavy door, you could feel the silence.
There was a sudden scurry.
Tim had gone. And where was Tang? Andy was turning tail and dragging open the church door, as fast as he could. I followed, my adrenaline taking longer to flow but at last unlocking torpid limbs.
Tim brought Tang down in a rugby tackle just inside the lychgate. Andy gathered them both up, propelling them back towards me to be shooed back inside and cosseted.
‘He knows he’s got us into some sort of trouble,’ I said, holding him tightly and patting his back. All I could feel was bones. ‘You should have seen him while Corbishley and Malins were ranting.’
Tim might have been grinding his teeth, he looked so angry. As for Andy, he had disappeared into the kitchen, and soon emerged with mugs, which he parked on a chair. Nodding almost apologetically, he withdrew to the Lady Chapel.
Still holding Tang, I stretched out an arm to include Tim. I ached with pity for him. During his tenure as priest in charge, he’d done his very best with limited experience and probably sketchy support, and now he’d got that sort of criticism.
As for me, I’d never had a best to do as far as men were concerned. I’d embraced the menopauseas an opportunity to enjoy a side of life denied me for thirty-odd years. I saw my no strings sex as simply a source of pleasure, and while I’d never made a song and dance about my choice, had never made any particular effort to keep it quiet. Now it had blown back into my face. I must learn to live with it.
Tim, on the other hand, had learned that in some people’s eyes he had failed not in his career, but in his calling. Tony would have told him he’d had a learning experience (wherever had the old devil picked up such lingo?) and that he was young enough to benefit from it.
As for Tang, he had done his best to save us from further internecine strife, even at the risk of his own life: he was the hero of the moment and somehow I must tell him so. Pushing away from them, I embarked on a complicated little mime Marcel Marceau would have applauded, telling him he was kind, but mustn’t do it again. How much did he take in? He was as inscrutable as any clichéd Chinaman.
Andy came back into the nave as we were in the middle of our group hug. He might have been about to join us, but there was another knock at the door. This time it was Annie, who had somehow laid hands on a huge quantity of paper and fat felt pens and what looked like a Chinese-English dictionary.
‘I don’t know whether it’s the right sort of Chinese,’ she apologised, ‘but it’s the best TauntonOxfam can do. The other thing is, perhaps he can draw pictures to convey what made him come here.’
They withdrew to what had become Tang’s corner, close to both the altar and the Calorgas heater.
‘Do you think we could switch off the wall-heaters to save the church some money?’ Tim ventured. Did he think that would appease the church wardens?
‘It won’t be the church paying: it’ll be me,’ I said. ‘And I like my warmth, thanks very much.’
‘You’re being very generous,’ Andy began. His throat moved as convulsively as Tim’s. This wasn’t going to be an easy five minutes for either of us, was it?
‘It seems to me that my being here isn’t helping Tang’s cause,’ I said
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