Phil Rickman - The Smile of a Ghost

‘Merrily, he hadn’t even mentioned Mrs Pepper. It was you who introduced the subject.’

‘You think? You know what, Bernie? I think he was talking about her all along. From the beginning. I think she’s what’s causing unrest among the older God-fearing folk of Ludlow, far more than the possible influence of a silly little girl who got taken for a ride in the twelfth century. On which basis, by the way, I’m buggered if I’m going to even consider exorcizing the Hanging—’

‘Merrily!’

‘Sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Got elbowed in the eye by a psychotic teenager.’

‘How come you know so much about this Mrs Pepper?’

‘Lol. And Jane on the Internet. It doesn’t take very long to find out about anything any more. Also, I saw her, when I was on the river bank with Mumford and you were in the pub with his dad. I recognized her… realized this was who Osman meant.’

‘Well, I don’t know anything about her, as I said, but I do know that George Lackland, while he may work the system, is a decent man who thinks his beloved town is being contaminated, if only by having its moral tone lowered. Is he exaggerating this? I don’t know.’

‘Personally, I just can’t see a wealthy middle-aged woman going in for wholesale alfresco sex in a town she regards as heaven. And I don’t want to get involved—’

She braked, catching a movement on the grass verge: badger about to scuttle across the road.

‘—get involved with a witch-hunt.’

‘Witch-hunt.’ The Bishop leaned his head back over the passenger seat, from which the headrest was long gone. ‘How simple things were in those days. The mob would have dragged her in front of some judge who thought he was God, and then taken her out and hanged her at Gallows Bank.’ He turned his head towards Merrily. ‘Still there, you know. Still this patch of open space, in the midst of modern housing. You can see where the actual gibbet stood, so that executions would be visible all over town. Ludlow, you see, looks after its past.’

‘Unlike Hereford?’

‘We try. Unfortunately, I think our old execution site is underneath Plascarreg.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t you dare make anything of that.’

Merrily smiled.

‘And try not to hang George. He’s an old-fashioned civic leader. Middle Ages, he’d have been the sheriff. When they eventually come to lay him out, they’ll find the imprints of chain links on his chest.’

Of course, he’d know exactly how George felt because it was how he felt. If Ludlow was tainted, George was tainted, and if Bernie let George down he would probably feel he’d forfeited his right to come back and live out his sunset years in the benign shadow of the Buttercross.

‘Of course, the woman’s obviously mad,’ he said. ‘Too many chemicals in years gone by, one assumes.’

‘You think we should inform the Diocesan Director of Psychiatry?’

She felt him staring at her, working this out. He shifted, something clicking ominously under his seat.

‘Saltash.’

‘You read the Mail , then.’

He grunted. ‘It was in The Times , too, actually. Yes, that man did rather exaggerate his role, didn’t he?’

‘Glad you think so.’

‘Heavens, Merrily, last thing we want is worried people avoiding Deliverance for fear of being considered eligible for assessment under the Mental Health Act.’

‘But under our new, agreed working practices, I’m supposed to report – for instance – what we’ve just been told, for consideration by the panel before any action is taken. Like I said earlier, I shouldn’t even have come tonight without clearing it with them.’

‘It’s preposterous, Merrily.’

‘It’s what we agreed.’

‘What they agreed, you mean.’

In theory he could, as Bishop, overrule any of it. In practice, it would be impossible without dispensing with the panel and making lifetime enemies of Siân and Saltash, and the Dean who had brokered the deal. She left all this unsaid, but it was drifting between them as Leominster appeared over to the right, an island of lights.

The Bishop sighed.

‘Merrily, let’s not fool ourselves. Look at me: overweight, over sixty and not up to much in the pulpit. I’ve never been under any illusions. I’m a caretaker here and I suspect my time’s already running out.’

‘Come on, Bernie, people like you.’

‘Like? What’s that got to do with it? There are those who could have me quietly retired in no time at all, if they chose to whisper in the right ears. And I rather suspect Ms Callaghan-Clarke’s one of the potential whisperers.’

‘You think Siân wants you out?’

‘I don’t know what I think. Hereford’s not the most exalted of dioceses, and nicely out on a limb. Good place for a woman to have a chance at the helm, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Siân Callaghan-Clarke?’ Was that the wheel shaking, or her hands? ‘Bishop of Hereford?’

‘I’m simply saying it’s a possibility that’s occurred to me, that’s all. May be years off, yet. Then again…’

‘Christ,’ Merrily said.

‘And there’s… something else. I’m not supposed to tell you this yet, but… the Archdeacon came to see me this afternoon. You know Jeff Kimball’s moving to St John’s at Worcester, leaving a major vacancy at Dilwyn?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Well, he is. And with Archie Menzies retiring in the autumn, your area of north Herefordshire’s going to be stretched. Inevitably, the Archdeacon’s looking at the possibility of a shake-up – introduction of a collaborative ministry in that area: rector, team vicar, et cetera. And, as all this would be happening very close to the Ledwardine parish boundary, it’s been suggested that Ledwardine should be included in the review.’

‘Oh.’

Her hands slackened on the wheel. She could see where this was going. Only a matter of time.

‘And, of course, someone pointed out that you had only one parish,’ the Bishop said.

‘Inevitably.’

‘Something of a rarity these days, you will admit.’

‘Who, er… pointed that out?’

‘No idea, but I expect you could make a solid guess. My opinion, as I’ve frequently stated, is that, with an expanding Deliverance department to run, one parish is quite ample, and I do know you’re working seven days most weeks. But when I pointed this out to the Archdeacon, he said it had been suggested to him that perhaps Deliverance was something that, ah, expanded according to the time and the manpower – or, indeed, womanpower – available.’

‘The Archdeacon’s been got at.’

‘So it would seem.’

‘Someone wants me to have a bunch of extra parishes. Thus leaving very little time for Deliverance work.’

‘Draw your own conclusions. The thinking, I would guess, is that Deliverance would itself then become something of a team-ministry.’

‘And the post of Diocesan Exorcist – under whatever title?’

‘Would disappear.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s neither here nor there.’ Merrily kept her eyes on the road. ‘Except that the end result would probably be that Deliverance itself – as a specialist field – would eventually also disappear.’

‘I can see that happening, yes,’ the Bishop said. ‘It’s a political thing, isn’t it?’

They hit the Leominster bypass, picking up speed and extra rattle. The Bishop seemed tired, almost defeated. Merrily wondered how close he was to pre-empting attempts to remove him while a suitable property in Ludlow was still within his price range.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to tell you tonight.’

‘I’m glad you did.’

‘I may be misinterpreting it.’