In the light of the dying fire, he held her by the shoulders and harangued her.
‘What means this? Why do you seek to desecrate this place?’
‘We want our village back from the likes of you. We want dancing and cider and Christmas. We don’t want your rules.’
‘The rules are not mine, they are Cromwell’s, and they are enforced for the sake of your immortal souls.’
‘We won’t have it.’
‘Who is “we”?’
‘You’ll know. Let me go!’ She struggled free of his grip and hared away, vaulting the wall with energetic ease.
He looked after her, knowing that his soul was under threat, but not knowing quite how.
He extinguished the fire and returned to his bed.
Puritans were on Adam’s mind when he dressed the next morning. His own manner of dressing was reminiscent of those severe pilgrims, always in black, always simple yet striking. It seemed his 17th-century precursor had just as difficult a job in inculcating virtues into the people of Saxonhurst as he did.
After a light breakfast, a whim took him into the church, to see if he could find the name of that vicar whose flesh he had seemed to inhabit in his dream.
On the board in gold lettering, he found the name Tribulation Smith, incumbent between the years 1647 and 1651. As he pondered the terrible crimes of nomenclature committed by those God-fearing souls, another name caught his eye and drew it down the board. J. E. Lydford, the author of the book, had been vicar here in the 1950s. That explained the sense of familiarity he’d had.
Pondering this, he returned to some administrative tasks in his study, but he found it hard to concentrate with the book calling to him from the living room.
He was about to give in and sneak in an hour’s reading when the doorbell rang.
On the step, he was mildly disgusted to find a pale-faced Trevelyan, in the company of an even paler Julia Shields. No sign of Evie – with any luck, she had seen sense and gone home.
‘Vicar, I wonder if you could do us a favour.’ Julia dived in without preamble. ‘Trevelyan needs somebody to show him how to get into the manor estate, but I simply must dash into Parham this morning. Hospital appointment, you see. Could you possibly show him to the gap in the wall?’
‘Can’t he find it himself?’
‘He’ll need someone to keep watch.’
‘Oh no. No, no. You can’t ask me to do this. I don’t approve, for one thing. This is your crusade now, Julia. I don’t discourage it, but I can’t have my name linked to it.’
‘They’re filming Evie today,’ said Trevelyan thickly. ‘Big scene. She’s the star.’
Adam’s stomach lurched. He looked from Julia to Trevelyan, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘Did you tell him to say that?’ he asked Julia abruptly.
‘Of course not. I didn’t know. He’s the one who spent the evening with her. I suppose she told him herself.’
‘Yeah,’ Trevelyan confirmed.
‘And does she know you’re planning to sneak up with your telescopic lens and take candid pictures of her?’
‘No,’ Trevelyan admitted. ‘She thinks I’m here to do a picture story on arable farming.’
‘You lied to her, in other words.’
‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ said Julia in clipped tones.
‘I’m not sure which of you is the devil,’ muttered Adam. ‘Possibly all of you.’
‘I’m just doing my job,’ said Trevelyan with a yawn.