not trusting in each other’s love enough to question what Rachel told us?’
‘Some of us are guiltier than others, and I don’t forgive you, Raffy Sinclair!’
For a moment his eyes flashed and I thought he was about to lose his temper, just as the long-vanished Raffy that I once loved would have done. It might even have cleared the air a bit. But then he gave a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry you feel like that, but I’ll leave you in peace now and go to the church. I feel a need to pray for both of us – but even more for Rachel.’
I felt more inclined to damn Rachel to the fiery pits of hell for what she’d done to me – to us. But then, I wasn’t the one with a freshly minted conscience and a matching set of ethics.
‘I’d concentrate on praying for yourself after visiting my grandfather,’ I advised him. ‘You know what they say: if you sup with the devil, you need a long spoon.’
Outside, David tooted his car horn and I got to my feet, feeling about ninety years old. ‘I’ve got to go; I’m going house-hunting with a friend.’
‘Of course.’
I put a brass screen in front of the fire and unhooked my coat from behind the door, then he followed me out through the workshop and into the lane. There he paused, looking down sombrely at me, and I stared inimically right back up at him.
‘God bless you, Chloe!’ he said, then strode off towards the High Street, past David’s red sports car, without even seeming to notice, his dark head bent and his hands in his pockets.
I got into David’s car feeling as if I’d gone several rounds in the boxing ring, and his peppering me with questions didn’t help, either.
‘Wasn’t that Raffy Sinclair? Mel Christopher told me he was the new vicar and I thought she was joking! You wouldn’t think someone with that kind of lifestyle would suddenly get God, would you?’
‘I know, I was surprised too,’ I said, the understatement of the century. ‘Of course, the band split up years ago, so I expect they’ve all moved on and done something else. He’s been ordained for quite a long time, I think.’
‘But why was he visiting you? You don’t go to church now, do you?’
‘He came to see Grumps, really, and then I expect he thought he might as well call on me. He intends visiting every house in the parish eventually, so at least he can tick me off the list now.’
‘I suppose he’ll be a seven-day wonder and all the women will go gooey over him.’
‘Not me,’ I said flatly and he gave me a sideways smile as we drove out along the Neatslake road, passing the sign to Stirrups.
‘No, I’m sure he isn’t your type in the least.’
‘So, which house are we going to see first?’ I asked, firmly changing the subject. I longed to be on my own, to go over every single nuance of what Raffy had said to me, but until I was, I’d have to try to put a brave face on it.
I must have succeeded, even running on automatic response, because David didn’t notice anything wrong. In fact, he said the afternoon had been fun – which I expect it would have been, in other circumstances.
It was only later, while we were having tea at a canal marina café, and debating the merits of the two properties we’d seen that day, that it occurred to me that Grumps might have already ill-wished Raffy for a wrong that had turned out to be due to nothing more than credulity and stupidity. Perhaps, if it wasn’t too late, I should tell Grumps so? But then, he couldn’t really do Raffy any harm, could he…?
I returned to the present to find David holding forth on the subject of guest bedrooms and en-suites, neither of which seemed very important to me at the best of times, and not at all at that moment, so I said it was time I was getting back home.
He dropped me off at the door, but even then I hadn’t got a minute to myself, because of course Jake came back soon after I did. I’d promised to cook him his favourite dinner – sausage and mash with mustard sauce, followed by a fresh cream éclair I’d bought him from the Spar that morning, which seemed at least a century ago.
But this was probably a good thing, because by the time we were finishing dinner, the urge to weep uncontrollably was all safely dammed up behind a lot of concrete resolve and I’d made my mind up to tell Jake at least some of the truth. Better he heard it from me than as a stray rumour.
‘The new vicar visited Grumps today,’ I said, scraping plates and then dumping them into the washing-up bowl. ‘Then afterwards he called to see me, too.’
‘What for?’ he asked, looking up from my newest copy of Skint Old Northern Woman magazine, which seemed a strange choice of reading matter for a teenage boy – except, of course, that he is a fairly strange teenage boy.
‘To catch up on old times.’ I took a deep breath and confessed, ‘You see, we went out with each other years ago. You were only a baby at the time, so you won’t remember, but I went away to university and that’s where I met him. But then he went off with Mortal Ruin and became a rock god and I…came home.’
‘You went out with Raffy Sinclair?’ he exclaimed, with the same unflattering amazement that Felix had shown at the news.
‘Only for a few weeks, and I haven’t seen him since.’
‘Oh my God – you mean I might have had Raffy Sinclair for my brother-in-law if you hadn’t messed up?’ he demanded aggrievedly.
‘I didn’t mess up, we just…drifted apart,’ I lied. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him all the truth, especially that he was the reason I hadn’t gone back to university and been there when Raffy returned to look for me. ‘And you never wanted a brother-in-law anyway – look how horrible you were to poor David!’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted one like him. He hated me.’
‘No, he didn’t, he just got tired of all the awful tricks you played on him, and no wonder! He was asking about you today – which university you hoped to go to, and that kind of thing.’
‘He was probably hoping it wasn’t one near home,’ he said acutely. ‘Then he wouldn’t have to have me around much if you got back together.’
‘We’re not getting back together,’ I said firmly, though strangely enough I was starting to think I might have been reinstated on David’s current list of suitable brides, despite not meeting any of the criteria: I preferred living alone, I’d lost any desire for motherhood after bringing up Jake, and my idea of a good time was curling up on the sofa at home with a box of truffles, wine, and my favourite Georgette Heyer novel. Sophisticated I was not. That Mel he kept mentioning sounded a much more suitable candidate.
‘I’m not what he’s looking for. In fact, I’m not what anyone is looking for,’ I assured Jake.
But he was now staring at me critically, as though he’d never seen me before in his life,
