Free Merrily Watkins 11 - The Secrets of Pain by Phil Rickman

that.’
    Now that
was
wrong. Normally it would be,
Don’t be ridiculous, this is Ledwardine
.
    ‘Owt up, lass?’
    ‘Don’t know.’ Merrily dropped the phone into her bag; maybe she was overtired. ‘You think when they’re officially adult, it’s going to be easier. That they’ll be more restrained. But the only real difference is that now they can
do
things. Shake foundations.’
    She told Huw about the Ledwardine henge issue – indications of a Bronze Age earthwork around the village, concealed for centuries by apple orchards. It was clear that elements inside Hereford Council would prefer that nothing was found on land they hoped to develop, thus turning Ledwardine into something approaching a town. Jane – obsessed with ancient sites, planning a career in archaeology – was furious. And Jane was eighteen. Jane could vote and express opinions.
    ‘She’s also enraged about a very rich man called Ward Savitch inviting other rich people to kill our wildlife. And she feels… I don’t know. She was a bit screwed-up when we arrived – fifteen, dad dead, mother adopting a deeply uncool career. And yet she’s been happier in Ledwardine than anywhere, and now she can see it coming apart. The village is a divided place now. Not a happy place. ’
    ‘And you’ve to keep walking the fence.’ Huw fell silent, gazing into the embers from the depths of his chair. Then he got to his feet. ‘I’ll go and make some more tea.’
    When he returned with the teapot it was after midnight and Jane had rung back to say all was well: doors barred, cat fed, no signs of storm-damage at the vicarage.
    Still detectable traces of
let’s not worry Mum unnecessarily
. But short of listing every conceivable mishap and pedantically putting them to her, one by one, there wasn’t a thing you could do about it.
    The tea was strong, as if Huw was determined neither of them would get much sleep tonight.
    ‘You read the new guidelines?’
    ‘Mmm.’
    A circular last week, underlining the need for full insurance. Be sure your clerical policy covered deliverance and all the possible repercussions.
    ‘It’s a farce, Merrily. Rules and procedures and targets. Like the NHS. Health and Safety. It can’t work like that. I’ve been thinking… might be time for me to pack this in. The courses.’
    ‘You’ve said that before.’
    She moved to the chair vacated by Syd, up against the dregs of the fire. Lighting a cigarette and leaning back into a padded wing so that most of her face was out of Huw’s line of sight. You tended to think it was only the intensity of his work that had kept him going after Julia’s death.
    ‘What would you do?’
    ‘Happen retire. Write me memoirs.’
    ‘That would explode a few comfort zones.’
    Huw leaned back with his hands behind his head.
    ‘I’m starting to think we could be close to fucked this time, Merrily. I go into Brecon – even Brecon, and I can feel it. Apathy, scorn… even fear. Of what we might be underneath. Used to be the worst we were was irrelevant, now we’re taking the shit for militant Islam and a handful of kiddie-fiddling Catholic priests. We’re either naive and laughable or we’re part of a sinister old conspiracy to control people’s minds and have sex with their children. And all the time there’s Dawkins standing on his citadel of science, pissing on us over the railings.’
    Merrily let the smile show.
    ‘Did I just hear a snatch of your fantasy final sermon?’
    Huw’s eyes lit up for just a moment, like in the old days, and he laughed.
    ‘Bugger off to bed, you cheeky cow, or you’ll be fit for nowt in the morning.’
    She nodded and stood up.
    ‘Keep an eye on him,’ Huw said.
    ‘Syd? He’s a grown man.’
    ‘Credenhill’s no more than… what? Eight miles from you?’
    ‘You think this could actually be something at the SAS camp? Not going to get in there, am I?’
    ‘I never saw you as a defeatist,’ Huw said.
    The room Merrily’d been given… she