Free Fabric of Sin by Phil Rickman Page A

to a place of greater safety.
    ‘That would
possibly
explain it, yes,’ he said.
    ‘It’s nothing particularly contentious.’
    ‘With respect, Merrily, how would you know?’ Bliss paused. ‘You want to explain? Being as we’re old mates and those smart-arsed cloak-and-dagger twats get right up my nasal passages?’
    ‘Well …’ She thought about it, could see no harm. ‘All right. The Duchy of Cornwall have paid good money out of the Prince’s piggy bank for an old farmhouse which their favourite conservation builder is refusing to work on because his girlfriend says it’s haunted.’
    ‘That’s it?’
    ‘Sorry to disappoint. Obviously I’d
like
to be able to tell you that the vengeful spirit of Princess Diana’s been seen around Highgrove in a—’
    ‘Yeah, yeah.’
    ‘But that’s it, Frannie. That’s the lot. As far as I know.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘You don’t, though, do you? Where’s the threat to national security in that?’
    ‘Maybe there’s more to it than you know.’
    ‘I’ve already been thinking along those very lines. These inquiries about me … is that still going on?’
    ‘I don’t know, Merrily. I’ve been off for a couple of days. I got this from Karen Dowell – now promoted to DS, by the way. They wanted your background, potted biog, any political connections and … Oh, yeh, they wanted to know about little Jane and her widely reported altercation with the Herefordshire Council over the proposed development of Coleman’s Meadow.’
    ‘Wha—?’
    It was like yobs had strolled up and starting rocking the car.
    ‘Calm down, Merrily, it’s not so unusual. And it would’ve been pointed out by somebody fairly quickly that the kid’s a force of nature, as distinct from a rural terrorist.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter, it’s just—’ Merrily sat up, dipping into her bag for the Silk Cut packet. ‘The bastards! I mean, you know what else they’ve done, don’t you? Someone’s leaned on the Bishop, so that he’s actually freed me up to … to devote all my attention to a minor issue which, the way it’s shaping up, may not even be Deliverance business.’
    ‘The Bishop’s told you this himself?’
    ‘Bishop Dunmore is conveniently away in London until Tuesday.’ She lit a cigarette, opened the window to let out the smoke, which blew back in a blast of wind from Garway Hill, wherever
that
was from here. ‘Sod this, I’m going home.’
    ‘You’re on this now?’
    ‘Mmm.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Garway Hill.’
    ‘Be a spectral sheep-shagger, then, would it, Merrily? All right, just remember we haven’t spoken and you know nothing of this. If you need to speak to me, call the mobile. Using
your
mobile. As distinct from the vicarage landline.’
    ‘You actually think—?’
    ‘I’m just being careful.’
    ‘Bloody
hell
, Frannie.’
    ‘Stay cool, Merrily.’
    Switching off the phone, she felt hunted, exposed, focused-on … and just tired, brain-dead.
Sod it
. She took two angry drags on the cigarette and then put it out. Pulled her waterproof jacket from the back seat and walked out into the rain.
    A lumpy grey mattress of cloud meant that she couldn’t see the village or the church tower or anything much apart from the wind-combed coarse grass on the other side of a barbed-wire fence. Supposed to be going back to check out the Master House, but what was the point?
    As Merrily was leaving the church, Teddy Murray had said,
We, ah … we have a room for you, Merrily. I’m not sure what you …
    I don’t know, to be honest, Teddy. I don’t live that far away, and I can’t really understand why the Bishop feels the need to inflict me on you
.
    Oh, I think we both know what that’s about. They want you to put the lid on something … firmly. As regards my interpretive role, I suspect Mervyn Neale might have had a hand in it
.
    The Archdeacon. Been with the Bishop when the issue was raised by Adam Eastgate.
    Mervyn and I have known one another for some time. He