and ran a hand through her hair.
So good to be here, she says, and Brother Trevor, always so sensitive to her mood, suggests they start immediately.
He pulls up a chair, sits in front of her, takes her hands, and begins the thanksgiving prayer. She closes her eyes, sinks into the soothing incantation, focuses on the touch of his skin, how it seems to travel from her hands up her arms, down through her chest to lodge just beneath her breasts where it pumps adrenalin into her blood. It is a quiet and private pleasure that hurts no one.
With the prayer finished and his thumbs stroking, so tenderly stroking, the backs of her hands, he asks about her week. Terrible, she says, and rotates her hands just a fraction so as to feel the tips of his fingers on the soft flesh of her palms. A stronger spurt of adrenalin shoots through her body and pools low in her abdomen. Terrible, she says again. It’s the family, nothing’s changed. Gray hasn’t been home for dinner all week, and Selwyn’s being deliberately obstructionist. Brother Trevor rubs a sympathetic finger across her palm, her thighs involuntarily tense; seeing the movement, he lays a soothing hand on one of her legs, and his touch shoots up the limb to meet the adrenalin sizzling down.
Not that Brother Trevor would suspect she is anything other than composed; she sits straight and still, her face arranged for prayer. She closes her eyes while Brother Trevor recites a prayer for the family, his hand still on her thigh, her body flooding with his energy. And then she tells him of her visit to Philippa. He takes his hand from her thigh and rearranges his cassock. How she loves his cassock for their private sessions, such an arresting ecclesiastical touch that she suspects he does especially for her. He shuffles in his seat, pulls his chair closer so their knees almost touch, and replaces his hand on her thigh.
Their knees touch. Is that his skin she feels through the material of the gown? Might he be without trousers? And the first spasm occurs, a sparkling prod that she has come to identify as part of her Thursday feeling. She tells him about Philippa, how angry she is at her mother-in-law. Brother Trevor is agreeing with everything she says, he is nodding his head, and now his whole body, nodding back and forward, forward and back, and the thrill of his knees nudging her own.
‘I went there with the best of intentions. George’s death was a terrible blow for her, I know that.’
The deep prodding is now a throbbing; she knows this is the difficult stage, the hardest to control. She clenches her torso, moves her attention from her body to the chair, and the throbbing immediately subsides.
‘So I don’t want to be unfairly critical,’ she continues, ‘but it’s been well over six months, and still Philippa’s avoiding her responsibilities. She seems so wrapped up in herself, can’t see that Gray and Selwyn are in trouble. And if they’re in trouble then the whole family’s in trouble.’
Brother Trevor grunts and continues his rocking.
‘Gray loves the business, always has, his commitment to it is 100%. But,’ she smiles at Brother Trevor, ‘I couldn’t say this to anyone but you, Gray seems to lack a certain something.’
A little groan escapes from Brother Trevor. He clears his throat. ‘Perhaps Gray’s just finding his feet, after all, it’s still early days.’
At which point Brother Trevor finds his feet and suggests they move to the prie-dieu. Not a moment too soon, Evelyn is thinking as she crosses the room. They kneel in unison facing each other, their arms resting along the ledge, hands firmly clasped.
‘You may be right about Gray,’ Evelyn says, leaning against the partition. ‘Although I think the main problem is that he cares too much. So different to Selwyn.’
‘Selwyn has never disguised his ambition.’
Brother Trevor also leans against the partition, Evelyn feels his weight through the wood, feels it drain her strength, feels the insistent pounding at the centre of her body. She swallows; it is still too soon. And swallows again.
‘It’s more than that, Selwyn doesn’t have the Finemore commitment to liquor. His heart’s not in it. Selwyn’s too much of a pragmatist.’
‘Always has been,’ Brother Trevor says, giving her hands a sudden squeeze, ‘always been his way.’
Evelyn dares not move. ‘Selwyn wants a period of rapid expansion, he wants to double the number of retail outlets and open a dozen new designer pubs. Can you imagine the cost!’ She is speaking very carefully, any untoward movement could bring the session to a premature end. ‘Gray says such expenditure would be suicide in this climate.’
‘So why does Selwyn want it?’ Brother Trevor leans sideways against the screen, and then returns to an upright position; his eyelids flutter.
‘Something about increasing the public image of the company. “Exposure,” he says, “is everything.” ’
Brother Trevor is swaying now, his grip on Evelyn’s hands is very firm, he begins the prayer of joy. Evelyn joins in. There is a knock at the door and Marion Potter is asking if her husband is ready for tea.
‘Not yet, dear.’ Brother Trevor consults the wall clock. ‘I’ll be finished in about ten minutes.’ Marion’s steps fade down the hallway; he turns to Evelyn, ‘But I’m ready to wind up, are you?’
Evelyn nods, not daring to speak. Brother Trevor returns to the prayer of joy, and now Evelyn, too, is swaying and praying, her breath quickening, breast beating, body rising and rising poised at the precipice, and Jesus comes, she feels him, she feels him. ‘Feel the love of Jesus!’ Cries Brother Trevor. ‘I feel! I feel!’ she says. Feels the thrill the joy the fluids of her faith rushing together and breaking, wave after glorious wave.
Only faith can feel this good.
She offers up thanks: for Brother Trevor, for her belief, and for the surprisingly powerful, and yet still largely private, miracle of her faith. And wonders what Brother Trevor thinks of her. Early in their association, having been quite overwhelmed by his sessions, Evelyn decided to discontinue them; Brother Trevor had worked hard to dissuade her, had been delighted when she succumbed. So she supposed he must like her, must like his time with her. He said it was part of his ministry, and of course it was; but while she always felt so much better for his ministrations, she remained perplexed over the particular manifestations of her faith. And would not want anyone to know, most of all Brother Trevor, upon whom it was so dependent.
Minutes later, both were sitting in their chairs smiling fondly at each other.
‘I don’t know how I’d manage without our sessions,’ Evelyn said.
‘Just doing my job.’
‘I feel so lucky to have you.’
‘Thank you, my dear.’
He stood up and took her hands. She looked up at him expectantly; but no, he said, she must go, his next client was due in half an hour. She, too, stood up.
‘Thank you Brother Trevor, I feel so much better.’
‘Until next Thursday then?’
‘Thursday.’
He walked her to the front door. ‘Marion,’ he called to his wife, ‘Evelyn’s just leaving. Do you want to say goodbye?’
Marion came to the door, her youthful
