Free Glamorous Powers by Susan Howatch

this: are you sure the chapel was in England?’
    I was sufficiently startled to say: ‘It certainly never occurred to me that it wasn’t. The light was so English – that dull greenish light which is so typical of a cloudy English day.’
    ‘Presumably the greenish light means the trees were in leaf. But was it spring or summer?’
    ‘Summer. It was too warm to be spring.’
    ‘If you were aware of the warmth,’ said Francis, writing busily, ‘were you also aware of your clothing? Were you wearing your habit, which we know is hell in hot weather, or were you enjoying the bliss of trousers and a shirt?’
    I was intrigued but had to confess: ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Then let’s approach the memory from another angle. You said yesterday –’ He consulted his notes ‘– that there were steps leading to the doors of the chapel. Did you raise the skirt of your habit as you mounted these steps?’
    ‘No,’ I said at once, and added without thinking: ‘How clever of you, Francis!’
    He looked at me over the top of his spectacles. ‘Father.’
    ‘Father. I’m sorry.’
    There was a pause before he continued: ‘So it seems you weren’t wearing your habit. But that’s not evidence that you weren’t still a monk. You may have been on an authorized visit to this place, in which case you’d be wearing a clerical suit, justas we all must whenever we journey outside the cloister. So my next question is inevitably: what was your purpose in going to the chapel?’
    ‘I’ve no idea.’
    ‘Was it your impression that the chapel was in regular use?’
    ‘Yes. The lilies –’
    ‘Obviously the lilies prove that it had been visited recently but was there any evidence that the building was being used for worship? The lack of orthodox altar furnishings seems odd.’
    ‘I agree but I’m sure it wasn’t deconsecrated. Perhaps I was going there for private prayer.’
    ‘The place seemed familiar to you?’
    ‘Yes, I felt no surprise either when I saw the chapel below me in the dell or when I opened the door and saw the interior.’
    ‘Why do you consistently refer to it as a chapel as if it were owned by a family or an institution? Couldn’t it have been some isolated country church?’
    ‘In my experience isolated country churches are always medieval. This building was Victorian even though it was built in the style of Inigo Jones.’
    ‘What makes you so sure it was a Victorian imitation and not the work of the master himself? I thought Victorian architects were in love with medievalism, not classicism.’
    ‘Then this must have been the exception that proves the rule. The pews were typically Victorian. Of course they could have been added later, but –’
    ‘If you know so much about the chapel why don’t you know what this ruined building was behind it?’
    ‘I’m sure I did know exactly what it was, but my mind’s now a blank. Could it have been an ancient castle?’
    ‘In a dell?’ Francis was sceptical. ‘Castles are usually built on mounds.’
    ‘Perhaps it was a much older church, then – a church which for some reason had been allowed to fall into ruins.’
    There was a pause while we both pondered on this mystery but eventually Francis said: ‘As we know neither the name nor the vicinity of this place it would be well-nigh impossible totrack down, but even if we found the chapel really did exist that still wouldn’t prove your vision came from God. All the discovery would prove is that you’re capable of a certain type of clairvoyance.’ Drawing a line below his last note he dipped his pen in the ink again. ‘Let’s leave the chapel now and turn to this bag which you believe to be a symbol. Am I right in assuming this wasn’t a bag you’ve ever owned?’
    ‘I’d never have owned such a piece of luggage. It was expensive – and somewhat feminine, pale beige with dark brown corners. In fact it was the sort of suitcase one would associate with a wealthy woman.’
    Francis raised an