Free Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins by James Runcie Page A

Stein, a psychologist with a surprisingly fruity laugh. She began by telling Sidney that she was writing a history of contraception; a conversation-stopper if ever there was one.
    After all the introductions had been made and the drinks poured, the guests began to share news of acquaintances of whom Sidney and Hildegard had never heard. (Giles Cox-Slaughter was going to be a judge, so at least they could all be guaranteed a sympathetic hearing if they ever got into trouble; Marcus Treeves was leaving to start a salmon farm in Scotland despite there being ‘plenty of fish in the sea already’; and Shouty Meynell’s daughter Wistful (named after one of his favourite hounds) had become engaged to a second cousin who had a bit of ‘a lack’ but she was fortunate to find anyone on account of her being so plain.) Sidney and Hildegard felt they were spending a first night at a school that they had been reluctant ever to attend.
    Amanda was all ears as Henry Richmond regaled the company with a series of well-rehearsed anecdotes concerning the pranks he had played on his friends. He had once managed to convince a naive colleague that if you put a pigeon next to a magnet it would always face north due to high levels of iron in the blood; that chickens fly south for the winter; and that kilts were originally made from the tartan pelt of a wildcat.
    They partook of a winter consommé before settling down to lean pheasant, on which Sidney made little purchase. This was served with overcooked vegetables and underdone roast potatoes. Sidney wondered if the glacial room temperature and the indifferent cooking were a deliberate attempt to make the Kirby-Greys’ guests drink more of the welcoming burgundy that had been laid down by the host’s father in the early 1950s. Such thoughts he knew were ungrateful, and he told himself that he really should be less judgemental, especially when a rather decent bread-and-butter pudding was produced for dessert.
    The butler poured a too-sweet wine as an accompaniment while two maids, Kay and Nancy, circled the table. Sidney saw that Sir Mark was particularly watchful of Nancy, the smaller and darker of the two; a girl in her early twenties who was at pains to avoid eye contact. Her service was one of indifferent, even sullen, efficiency.
    Serena Stein noticed Sidney observing the maid in action and gave him a nudge. ‘It’s rude to stare.’
    ‘I didn’t think I was.’
    ‘Your reputation precedes you.’
    ‘I was unaware I had one.’
    Miss Stein’s voice was deep, and she clearly knew that it was one of her most seductive features, with her head held back in a mixture of interest and amusement. ‘Tell me, Canon Chambers,’ she asked confidentially, ‘with all your experience, can you ascertain, perhaps even just by looking, if a couple are happy or not?’
    ‘Not always.’
    ‘And when they first come to you and say they want to get married, do you have a good idea whether it’s going to be a lasting union?’
    ‘I haven’t had a failure yet.’
    ‘You mean you haven’t had a divorce. That’s not quite the same thing.’
    ‘Some couples think that the initial stages of being “in love” will see them through any difficulty ahead . . .’
    ‘And you don’t believe it will?’
    ‘I think friendship is often as important as love.’
    ‘That may not be enough.’
    ‘I am not saying it is. You need both. Love has to be supported by care, patience, tolerance and understanding. Kindness too . . .’
    ‘But when the passion goes,’ Serena continued, glancing at the maid, ‘then all of those things might not be enough. One or other of the partners could start to look elsewhere.’
    ‘And that’s when friendship should protect that passion,’ Sidney replied. ‘You have to put each other first.’
    ‘Is that what you do in your marriage?’
    ‘I try. It’s different every day.’
    ‘I thought that love was “an ever-fixed mark”, as Shakespeare has it?’
    ‘The