AT nine o'clock, after breakfast, Ray went upstairs to the rear bedroom that he had converted into an office back in 2020 at the start of the first lockdown, and now continued to use to pursue his hobbies. His little workspace had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place of refuge from the increasing demands of church duties. Among his many hobbies was a keen interest in local history. He'd been doing a lot of research into Caroline, the dead woman who'd been unearthed on the church grounds, and had discovered some interesting information. He had a new project to work on too -- helping Alice track down the daughter she gave up for adoption in 1999.
This morning, as usual, he prepared himself a strong black coffee, and intended to spend a couple of hours reading through 19th century parish records. Just as he was switching on the laptop, his smartphone rang.
"Oh good morning Graham. Yes, I'm at home. Sure, I'll be in until twelve. Have to visit the hospice this afternoon. Last rites. What? Of course you can. Okay, no problem, see you in ten. Bye."
He put down the phone. "Well, there goes my chance of doing a morning's research," he sighed. The vicar had sounded very much troubled and wanted to call round to discuss a confidential matter of great urgency. He was intrigued and alarmed by that.
"Shit, I hope it's not about me and Alice sleeping together." He said out loud. Knowing what a staunch adherent Reverend Hosking was to professionalism and decency, a curate having sex with the married church organist wasn't going to go down too well. They'd been discreet, but as was the way, any hint of scandal had a habit of spreading around a close-knit church community like wildfire. And he and the vicar weren't exactly best buddies. There was an atmosphere of strained politeness between them, with the vicar's strait-laced manner at odds with Ray's fun-loving, relaxed personality.
At ten minutes past nine, the morning rush hour was just over. Although the roads were still moderately busy, traffic was moving smoothly and swiftly. Reverend Hosking pulled up in front of the curate's two-bed terraced house.
Ray switched the kettle on again as the vicar sat down in an armchair.
"What's troubling you, Graham?" he asked nervously, fearing he was about to receive a reprimand. "You sounded very anxious on the phone."
"I'm sorry to burden you like this. But I've got myself into a situation that I have, to my regret, lost control of. I need your advice."
Ray relaxed a bit. "I'll do my best to help in any way I can." He brewed a mug of tea.
Reverend Hosking sighed. "It's personal. I find it difficult to talk about. You see...I've just met someone, and I, uh."
"Yesterday after the service, you mentioned you'd fallen in love."
"I have Ray. I truly think I have."
"I'm really happy for you, Graham." He handed him the mug.
"Yes but here's the problem. I've never had a relationship before. Hell, I've never gone beyond kissing a woman. I'm a thirty-year old virgin. I know that must seem strange in this day and age, what with dating apps and so on. Casual hook-ups aren't for me. I'm hopeless at chatting up women. I've always struggled with shyness. Then a few days ago, a random encounter knocked me for six."
Reverend Hosking had expected the curate to burst out laughing, but to his relief, Ray listened intently, his face serious. He immediately felt guilty for thinking badly of his assistant.
"It's nothing to feel ashamed about, Graham. To be honest, I expect late bloomers often have more lasting relationships as they're more emotionally mature. I made some stupid decisions in my younger days. I never should've married in my twenties. I wasn't prepared for it. Two kids and two divorces."
"Yes, well getting married is one thing, but never even having a girlfriend? I wish I had your...confidence when it comes to women."
"It's sometimes a blessing and a curse," Ray replied. "You said you've met someone?" He gently coaxed the vicar further until he revealed all about his fateful meeting with Emily in the road, right up to she called round at the vicarage.
"She sounds a very lovely young woman, Graham. I don't recall seeing her during the service."
"She didn't come up for communion. She's still in the process of rediscovering her faith." He gave another sigh. "Well last night, I fear that I did something wrong."
"Wrong?"
Reverend Hosking nodded. "I think I have made a monumental mistake and I wish to fix it. I do not want to lose her over my...inexperience."
Ray brewed more tea. "What happened?"
"Forgive my hesitancy...it is not something I find easy to talk about. Last night, she did something to me that I have never before experienced and I fear that I had the wrong reaction to it."
Ray leaned close. "What did she do?"
The vicar started to blush, as he struggled to explain how Emily had declared her attraction to him, then had started kissing him.
"I became rather too adventurous with my hands and fondled about her tits, er, her breasts, and then she..."
"Go on."
"She...gave me a blowjob."
Ray had not expected the uptight vicar to utter such a thing, and the surprise on his face was obvious. "Blimey...well, she's either the most dedicated born-again Christian in the world, or she absolutely fancies the bollocks off you. Talk about diving in, eh? And...did you like it?"
Reverend Hosking's face turned crimson. "I did, yes. It was wonderful. But, I reacted badly. Afterwards, she wanted us to go to the bedroom but I asked her to leave. I regretted it instantly. I...I was just overwhelmed, Ray. Now I fear I've blown it and I don't know what to do."
"Graham, speaking as a fellow bloke, in my honest opinion, you just need to call round and see her, apologise and explain gently to her that things just happened a little too fast and you wanted to wait until you felt ready. Now if she truly loves you, she'll understand."
A wave of relief swept across the vicar's face. "Thanks Ray."
"Hey, it'll be okay. I really hope it works out between you and Emily. Just try to relax a bit. Enjoy it. Savour it. Trust me, when it happens, it'll feel incredible." he added with a wink.
"I will. Um, just changing the subject, what have you discovered about our Victorian victim?"
"Oh, have a butcher's at this," Ray said, handing him some printouts. "Caroline Gaskell, a twenty-one-year old local girl, died April 1870. Cause of death, a house fire. She was trapped in an upstairs room and burned to death. For her sake I hope the smoke overcame her first, poor lass. Can you believe it? She'd been locked in there by her father. A brute of a man named Albert. And a parish vicar too! By all accounts a short-tempered chap prone to drinking and bouts of depression. His wife died in childbirth when Caroline was ten; the baby died too. Caroline's life must've been a miserable one, she was a virtual slave to her father. He beat her and became convinced she was practising witchcraft. No wonder she planned to elope with a handsome young farmhand she met whilst attending church. Her one chance of happiness. Unfortunately, her father found out and locked her in a bedroom."
"And he set fire to the house and let his own daughter be burned to death?"
"Well, I haven't been able to discover the exact cause of the fire. Eyewitness accounts heard Caroline screaming and banging as the house went up in flames, cursing her father's name. Whether he started it deliberately or not, Caroline died believing her father had caused it." Ray noticed the colour had drained from Reverend Hosking's face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Might be a coincidence, but the other night I had a bad nightmare. A woman, screaming as she died in an intense fire. It was so vivid, it woke me up."
"The effects of reading too many articles on this long-dead woman perhaps?" He mentioned the similar nightmare Alice had experienced. "I think you need a break, Graham. You've had a lot on your mind. Maybe you could take Emily somewhere nice and have a day out, away from the church."
Reverend Hosking clasped his hands around the mug and hunched over the table. There was worry in his blue eyes. "Poor Alice. That's one nasty dream. What do you make of it?"
"Oh, I don't think it's prophetic, Graham."
"Why couldn't it be? Mine appears to have been."
"Yes, but--it was just too wild to be taken seriously. I mean, severed heads that suddenly come to life--that sort of thing isn't really going to happen."
He nodded and stood up. "I've taken up too much of your time, Ray. I have a mistake I need to rectify, and thanks to your advice, I have the courage to do it. Thanks once again. I'll see you at the midweek service."
Today's weather was behaving itself again. Bright, warm sun and the wind had dropped. All was still as the vicar drove into town. His heart started pounding as he headed down the narrow streets of this ancient market town. It was busy.
As he parked the car, a river-cold breeze whipped out of nowhere and made some bushes at the edge of the road dance. A series of stealthy sounds. A soft scrape. A rattle that died even as it began. A silken rustle. Reverend Hosking glanced down. A discarded fast-food box was sliding along the pavement.
"Bloody litterbugs."
He frowned, picked up the piece of rubbish and deposited it in the nearby bin.
In the library, he was greeted by Winnie Chen, a cheerful, fifty-something Asian woman, who he knew quite well. Winnie was a member of the Mother's Union and often did the church flower rota.
