‘But Eve got the worst out of it. Way the worst. Do you think that’s fair, vicar? Adam had to chop a few logs but Eve had all the pain and the blood. I’d have swapped.’
‘It was Eve who listened to the serpent, Eve who took the apple.’
‘Apple.’ Evie shook her head. ‘Are we meant to believe that, vicar? Everyone got in all this bother just for the sake of a boring old apple? I’d understand if it was a Toblerone.’
With difficulty, Adam forced his mind back to St Paul, taking the book and shoving it down under Evie’s nose.
‘We are not talking about Adam and Eve,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh yes we are. When we’re together, we’re always talking about Adam and Eve.’
Oh Lord, she was right. How had this happened so fast and so fatally? Their dynamic already was one of tension, temptation, resistance, played out in infinite variations.
He had to be stronger than his biblical namesake, that much was clear. Whoever the serpent might be was doing a grand job of it.
Was it Sebastian? One of those village men in the cornfield? Someone had to be pulling Evie’s strings. Who was it?
‘What do you reckon the Garden of Eden was like?’ she asked idly, pushing the New Testament away again.
He tried not to answer, he tried to resist her line of beguiling enquiry, made with such ingenuous lowering of eyelids, such provocative pouting of lips. But it was no use.
‘A very beautiful place, of course. Scholars dispute over its geographical location –’
‘Oh, I don’t care about what it looked like. I mean, what was it like? What was it like to live there? What did Adam and Eve do all day?’
‘Obey the Lord,’ said Adam, a tad sulkily. ‘And now ’
‘What would you do all day? If you were in the Garden of Eden, starkers, with a beautiful woman?’
‘This isn’t relevant.’
‘Yes it is. It’s how it all began. How can it not be relevant? Imagine you’re Adam and I’m Eve – not that much of a stretch, is it? You don’t have to work. Everything’s all there for you – food and warmth and so on. You can do anything and everything you want, all day and all night. What would you do?’
‘I would pray. Now, when St Paul arrived in Ephesus … What are you doing?’
She had put her finger on his lips. She was so close to him and her hair smelled of meadows.
‘I reckon it’d be like this. You’d be there, in the Garden of Eden, and once God had done that lecture about not eating from the tree and whatnot, you’d turn and see me on the grass beside you. And you wouldn’t want to pray. You wouldn’t want to stroll around admiring the rivers and the valleys and all that. You’d want to fuck.’
He took hold of her arm, wresting her finger away from his mouth.
‘I won’t hear that kind of talk in my home,’ he rasped.
‘I reckon the air in that garden was loaded with sex. You’d be at it night and day. And that’s a good thing, vicar. While we’re making love, we ain’t making war. Don’t you think?’
‘There are other things to make, worthy things.’
‘But right down at the root of it, we all want to fuck. Even you. Especially you. You want it right now, I can tell.’
‘Get away from me!’
She did so, standing up and picking up her bag.
‘Sounds like we’re done for tonight, then. I feel sorry for you, Adam. What you need is a woman. Or maybe you’re gay? Is that it? No, can’t be, or you wouldn’t fancy me.’
‘Just leave me alone.’
‘So, same time Wednesday?’ she said breezily. ‘I’ll see you then.’