Free The Chinese Takeout by Judith Cutler

Corpus
.’
    I raised my eyebrows, which Tony used to say were the most expressive part of my face.
    Tim turned on him passionately. ‘So what do we do? Betray his trust believing that it’s the best option? He may never forgive us. Never forgive God.’
    ‘I think God can be relied on to forgive him,’ Andy said, putting a kindly arm round his shoulder. ‘How soon do you think they’ll track him down, Nick?’
    ‘They’re probably on to it now. Both the police and the folk who brought him here, who, incidentally, probably have agents in the police, possibly the Home Office. These people make the Mafia look like enthusiastic amateurs, Andy. Even if they didn’t know before, from the moment the media carried the story – “Illegal migrant in sanctuary bid” – his death warrant will have been written and ready for delivery.’ I’d never known Nick so passionate, so eloquent. ‘You have to persuade him to give himself up. And also convince the police of the seriousness of the situation. I’ll try to do that,’ he added, ‘though whether they’ll take kindly to a retired officer from a metropolitan force telling them what’s what, I very much doubt.’
    Tim was literally wringing his hands. Tanglooked from face to face like a dog awaiting the vet’s final visit. Faces that had been kind, loving even, were now clouded with concern. They boded no good.
    Andy looked from one to the other, with a long appraising stare at Nick, when he thought Nick wasn’t looking. Then he turned his eyes to me.
    I didn’t submit to inspection, not even from deans, so I asked, ‘Did you have a visit from the church wardens just before we arrived?’
    He looked satisfactorily taken aback. ‘Should we have done?’
    ‘Corbishley turned up on my doorstep with enough flowers for a funeral.’ On reflection I wished I hadn’t used that image. I wrinkled my nose: Andy nodded as if he understood. ‘I told him to bring them here and ask Tim’s forgiveness.’
    ‘Did you give him yours?’
    ‘More or less. But it came at a price – I gave him an earbashing. I told him the church needed the flowers, though.’
    Did he stop himself saying something? I stepped backwards into the kitchen. ‘Andy, do you think we can shift him?’
    ‘I wish I knew. It all depends on Tim, who’s taking an idealistic or quixotic stance, according to your view. I’ll work on him. But he may see it as a desperate attempt on my part to sleep in my own bed!’
    ‘Couldn’t we get one of the younger men in the parish to take your place?’
    ‘Find one, Josie! What’s the average age of the congregation?’
    ‘Point taken. Look, Tim seems to be listening to Nick. He’s very good in senior officer to rookie mode, isn’t he? He might do better if we keep a low profile. Have you been up the tower yet?’ I asked. ‘No? Step this way. No, after you.’ I said, thinking about ladders and remembering that I was wearing a skirt. ‘The door opens very easily.’
    We looked down on the media mob, shielded from their gaze by the thickness of the castellation.
    ‘God’s own country,’ he said. ‘All this lushness – so different from Dartmoor.’
    ‘Dartmoor’s granite, isn’t it? And Exmoor sandstone?’
    He looked almost startled. ‘Is that why they have such deep lanes? They’ve been sort of cut into the earth?’
    ‘I suppose so. By countless generations of farmers. It’s a very old landscape.
Where every prospect pleases,
’ I suggested, ‘
and only man is vile
.’
    ‘The trouble is, nature needs help from man, no matter how vile, to look like this. And I never really buy the vileness of man theory. I like people too much, that’s the trouble.’
    Mine too. But at the moment, lest it remind him of Corbishley’s view of me, I’d just keep quiet about it.
    We stayed where we were a few minutes longer incompanionable silence, and then turned as one for the ladder.
    When we got down, Nick was sitting beside Tang, sheets of paper on his