inclined his head to Delphine.
As usual, she chose not to take communion. She was removed from God. She did not wish to do it for the sake of convention, and let Julia pass her and join the lines snaking up the nave to the
brass communion rail.
‘A life has been lost on our beach and our hearts are full of sorrow, but we must rejoice for her sake, for she is with the Lord, and she will nevermore know
suffering.’
These were the sole words spoken by Theo about the dead girl. There was a palpable ripple of excitement through the church. Then he continued, with no further mention of her. Edmund could not
help but feel disappointment, as though the child had not been honoured sufficiently.
The moment the procession, led by a silver cross on a wooden staff, had left the church, the atmosphere returned to its pre-service state, the chattering voices rising as the organ continued to
play. The instrument increased in volume, as though the organist was valiantly trying to outdo the collective voice of the congregation. At the final crashing of chords, Delphine rose, but when she
looked for the young woman who had met her gaze, she could not see her.
Delphine slipped away from Julia. From one of the arches leading into a side chapel she watched her cousin speaking to the clergyman, who was waiting at the door to greet the congregation. From
observation of her cousin’s back, Delphine knew Julia would be complimenting him warmly on the service, but in Mr Hallam’s face she saw only the studied politeness of duty. When Julia
moved away he greeted the next person – a person he evidently knew – with deliberate enthusiasm and, knowing that Julia would notice and feel this, Delphine felt a pang of sorrow for
her cousin, a kind of tenderness which Julia had recently drawn from her. Still, she did not move; she watched Julia looking at her prayer book, then turning to greet their maid Martha, who had
been sitting at the back of the church with her own family.
Delphine was looking at the details of a crucifix in the side chapel nearby, when she heard movement behind her. She anticipated seeing Mr Benedict and braced herself, but the voice she heard
made her turn and smile.
‘It’s a fine piece of work, isn’t it?’ said Edmund Steele. ‘Mrs Beck, may I introduce you to Mrs Quillian? Like you, Mrs Quillian is here for the summer. I am
afraid that I made the assumption you would not object to an informal introduction.’
‘Forgive him; I begged to be introduced,’ said Mrs Quillian, shaking Delphine’s hand. Her bright eyes searched Delphine’s expression, glittering in her strongly wrinkled
face. ‘I said to Mr Steele: “Do you know that fine-looking woman?” I am most glad to make your acquaintance.’
‘And I yours,’ said Delphine. In the past, she would have withdrawn at that moment, but she found herself signalling to Julia to come over. ‘May I introduce my cousin, Miss
Julia Mardell?’
Introductions were made and acknowledged; it was only later that a detail occurred to Delphine – that on meeting Julia, Edmund Steele had bitten his lip, and let his eyes rest on her face
for a moment too long. She wondered if he had noticed the red stain on her pale skin, even beneath her veil.
‘I did not expect to see something like this crucifix here,’ Delphine said, trying to deflect any questions about their plans or background. The piece she gestured to was wood, the
carving naïve, and more brutal than any of the other furnishings in the church.
‘I am told it was made by a local man, from timber from a shipwreck,’ said Mr Steele. ‘But I don’t know whether to believe that. It has a certain power,
though.’
‘The local people must feel in need of protection,’ said Julia suddenly. ‘The sea can be cruel, as we have discovered this week.’
‘Oh, let us not speak of disagreeable things!’ said Mrs Quillian, in a brusque tone which made the phrase sound like a reprimand. ‘I am
As usual, she chose not to take communion. She was removed from God. She did not wish to do it for the sake of convention, and let Julia pass her and join the lines snaking up the nave to the
brass communion rail.
‘A life has been lost on our beach and our hearts are full of sorrow, but we must rejoice for her sake, for she is with the Lord, and she will nevermore know
suffering.’
These were the sole words spoken by Theo about the dead girl. There was a palpable ripple of excitement through the church. Then he continued, with no further mention of her. Edmund could not
help but feel disappointment, as though the child had not been honoured sufficiently.
The moment the procession, led by a silver cross on a wooden staff, had left the church, the atmosphere returned to its pre-service state, the chattering voices rising as the organ continued to
play. The instrument increased in volume, as though the organist was valiantly trying to outdo the collective voice of the congregation. At the final crashing of chords, Delphine rose, but when she
looked for the young woman who had met her gaze, she could not see her.
Delphine slipped away from Julia. From one of the arches leading into a side chapel she watched her cousin speaking to the clergyman, who was waiting at the door to greet the congregation. From
observation of her cousin’s back, Delphine knew Julia would be complimenting him warmly on the service, but in Mr Hallam’s face she saw only the studied politeness of duty. When Julia
moved away he greeted the next person – a person he evidently knew – with deliberate enthusiasm and, knowing that Julia would notice and feel this, Delphine felt a pang of sorrow for
her cousin, a kind of tenderness which Julia had recently drawn from her. Still, she did not move; she watched Julia looking at her prayer book, then turning to greet their maid Martha, who had
been sitting at the back of the church with her own family.
Delphine was looking at the details of a crucifix in the side chapel nearby, when she heard movement behind her. She anticipated seeing Mr Benedict and braced herself, but the voice she heard
made her turn and smile.
‘It’s a fine piece of work, isn’t it?’ said Edmund Steele. ‘Mrs Beck, may I introduce you to Mrs Quillian? Like you, Mrs Quillian is here for the summer. I am
afraid that I made the assumption you would not object to an informal introduction.’
‘Forgive him; I begged to be introduced,’ said Mrs Quillian, shaking Delphine’s hand. Her bright eyes searched Delphine’s expression, glittering in her strongly wrinkled
face. ‘I said to Mr Steele: “Do you know that fine-looking woman?” I am most glad to make your acquaintance.’
‘And I yours,’ said Delphine. In the past, she would have withdrawn at that moment, but she found herself signalling to Julia to come over. ‘May I introduce my cousin, Miss
Julia Mardell?’
Introductions were made and acknowledged; it was only later that a detail occurred to Delphine – that on meeting Julia, Edmund Steele had bitten his lip, and let his eyes rest on her face
for a moment too long. She wondered if he had noticed the red stain on her pale skin, even beneath her veil.
‘I did not expect to see something like this crucifix here,’ Delphine said, trying to deflect any questions about their plans or background. The piece she gestured to was wood, the
carving naïve, and more brutal than any of the other furnishings in the church.
‘I am told it was made by a local man, from timber from a shipwreck,’ said Mr Steele. ‘But I don’t know whether to believe that. It has a certain power,
though.’
‘The local people must feel in need of protection,’ said Julia suddenly. ‘The sea can be cruel, as we have discovered this week.’
‘Oh, let us not speak of disagreeable things!’ said Mrs Quillian, in a brusque tone which made the phrase sound like a reprimand. ‘I am
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