CHAPTER 9

Yes, Those Mormons

 

 

Cass had never realised how loud a seagull’s feet could be. There was one above her head right now, bouncing around on the attic roof and cawing down the chimney at her. She opened her eyes and looked at her alarm clock – seven o’clock, and the pre-dawn light was starting to creep round the curtains. It was nice to awake to the sound of the sea again; up in New Rawscar the sea was too far away – and anything as disorderly as the sound of the waves would never be allowed to intrude into June’s house which was triple glazed to keep it out. Cass reached out her hand to the pile of books beside her bed to turn off the alarm clock, which she had balanced on top of them. It was nice to see her own books and boxes and clothes exactly where she wanted them, in heaps on the floor, and to feel the warm ball of warmth that was Twiggy lying across her feet. She wiggled her toes, making Twiggy purr and pounce and smiled to herself. Maidensbower cottage was a huge improvement on June’s spare room.

Things had moved very quickly after the meeting on Wednesday night. Hal had swept Anna away from the function room, taking her down to the empty snug, beckoning Cass to follow them. Charles had continued with the meeting, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s dramatic entrance and subsequent swift exit.

‘Who did you see? What’s the matter?’ Hal was sitting down on one of the long benches against the wall of the snug; Anna slumped against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘Her! I saw her! The Maiden!’

‘In the cottage?’

‘No, not in the cottage. On the path, outside. Just a shape, but it was her. It had to be her. She was watching me, Hal, I saw her.’

Cass caught Hal’s eye and mouthed a question: ‘Brandy?’ Hal nodded, and Cass went to the bar where Marian was serving. She bought a couple of pints for herself and Hal as well as the brandy for Anna. By the time she had returned, Anna had stopped sobbing hysterically, she was leaning her head against Hal’s shoulder and he was gently stroking her hair. Cass twitched away a sudden foolish desire to feel strong, warm hands like that on her hair.

Hal glanced up at Cass, stopped stroking Anna’s hair and took the brandy from her, offering it to Anna who took a sip and winced.

‘It couldn’t have been a reflection that you saw?’ Cass suggested sitting down at the table opposite them.

‘No. It wasn’t,’ Anna spoke more calmly now, and took another sip of brandy. ‘It was her - the Maiden.’

Cass wanted to know what they were talking about – who exactly was The Maiden? She sensed that now wasn’t the time to ask for an explanation, which might make Anna even more hysterical.

‘I’m not going back there on my own. I can’t stay there. I’m scared, Hal.’

Her huge brown eyes begged him to come home with her, to protect her, to comfort her. ‘Don’t make me go back there on my own.’

‘I know, Anna. I understand,’ said Hal. ‘But look, I’ve got an idea. You’ve got three bedrooms and that attic room is huge. Reverend Fordyce here is homeless. You could do with someone there with you, and you,’ he said turning to Cass, ‘need somewhere cheap to live. Do we have a plan, ladies?’

Cass and Anna looked at each other with uncertainty written large across both their faces. Cass had lived alone for a long time now and her brief experience of sharing a house with June and Graham even for a few days had shown her how intolerant she could be of other people. How on earth could she share a house comfortably with a Goth nearly half her age? It certainly wasn’t church approved practice; what would the bishop say? And Anna looked positively dismayed at the thought of sharing a house with her.

Hal didn’t force an answer out of either of them then and there, but as soon as Anna left the room to go to the toilet, he turned to Cass, speaking quickly and urgently.

‘Look, Vicar, I need you to help me out here. I’m worried about her - about Anna. She’s isolated herself from everyone, and now she’s seeing ghosts. She’s not coping well right now and that cliff fall has shaken her up. She lost her mum, her dad seemingly hates her, most of her friends have moved away now and she needs other people in her life – other women in particular. She needs a friend, someone she can talk to. Someone other than me.’

‘And you think I could help?’

He looked her straight in the eye and spoke directly. ‘I know you can help.’

‘I suppose it’s all part of the job,’ she replied, looking down at her hands.

He reached across the bar table and took one of those hands, his grey-blue eyes fixed on hers until she felt a butterfly quiver in the pit of her stomach.

‘Will you help me to help her?’

It probably wasn’t the sensible thing to do but she found she couldn’t say no to him.

So, two days later, here she was. Now Twiggy was awake there was no staying in bed; Twiggy wanted breakfast and Cass had morning service to perform up at St. Stephen’s in another hour. Cass had enough cat food to feed Twiggy for today, but she was going to have to go to the supermarket for some more food soon, Anna had barely anything in the cupboards or the fridge. At least, being a holiday cottage, Maidensbower was provided with everything that they could need except food – Hal had given her the bed linen and towels that were usually provided for visitors, so Cass didn’t need to worry about replacing her lost possessions immediately. Hal had put the rent at a level that she could afford, and they could stay there until March if necessary, which gave the diocese time to sort out a vicarage for her.

Cass put on her dressing gown and tiptoed down the staircase past Anna’s bedroom on the middle floor and down to the kitchen, which was the warmest room in the house with an old Rayburn throwing out heat. The candle that she had given Anna on Tuesday still lay abandoned on the kitchen windowsill, unlit.

Breakfast came first, and she put a couple of croissants that June had given her into the Rayburn to heat – she had never used one before but found she rather liked the constant, comforting warmth. At this rate, she could pass her entire time at Maidensbower Cottage sitting at the oilcloth- covered kitchen table by the Rayburn - the oilcloth, like the rest of the cottage, was decorated with little images of sailing boats and sea shells. She sat down with coffee and a croissant, Twiggy purring on her knee.

It wasn’t long before Anna appeared. Cass had expected to see her in black satin pyjamas or a long, white flowing nightgown; she wasn’t expecting fluffy pyjamas with sheep on, and with her hair tied up in a ponytail Anna looked younger – and happier – than Cass had ever seen her.

‘I’ve heated some croissants, if you want one?’ Cass said with a smile, moving the plate towards Anna. She was going to start as she meant to go on, trying to be a friend to Anna; she had promised Hal and she would do her best.

‘I’m not that fond of croissants. They remind me of my mother. But I’ll have a coffee … thank you.’

Cass thought about asking about her parents – but it was too early in the morning and too early in her acquaintance with Anna to follow that path right now. Cass sorted a coffee for her, and Anna sat opposite her at the table, feeding flaky scraps of croissant, which had fallen from Cass’s plate to Twiggy who had deserted her owner’s lap in favour of Anna’s.

‘I didn’t know cats liked croissants!’ Anna said.

‘Neither did I,’ Cass said, watching her pet. ‘How did you sleep last night?’

‘Better. I didn’t expect that you being here would make any difference, but it did.’ She spoke carefully and precisely, as if it were a prepared speech.

‘I’m pleased about that,’ Cass said warmly, hanging the oven glove back up on the corner of the Rayburn. ‘Now,’ she said as she sat back down at the table with a notepad and pen, ‘I’m going shopping this afternoon. If you give me a list of anything you need, then I’ll get your shopping too.’

Cass had already started her shopping list with “Cat food”.

‘No, I don’t want anything much. I can sort my own, but not until tomorrow. I’m planning to work on my jewellery today; I’m going to set up my studio in the little third bedroom, hope that’s OK with you?’ The way she said it implied that Cass had little choice.

Cass had by far the biggest bedroom; it was the whole of the attic floor to herself, and Graham had promised to bring her a table to use as a desk up there when she had to work on sermons, which she liked to do at home, so she was more than happy for Anna to use the little bedroom for a studio. Cass was intrigued.

‘So, you make jewellery? Is that what you do at the museum? Graham said you worked there.’

‘Nothing to do with the job. It’s just something I do in my spare time. I collect old pieces of jet jewellery and remake them into modern pieces – I sell them all over the place; mostly to Goths. I deal in antique mourning jewellery as well - I’ve got a couple of fairs coming up before Christmas – the Christmas market on the quay here of course, and one over in Saddleton – so I’d like to make sure I have plenty to sell.’

Again, the speech sounded rehearsed, a stock answer to a question she had been asked before.

‘I’d love to see some of your work some time,’ Cass said, genuinely interested. It beat “taking selfies” as a hobby.

‘Maybe. A lot of the antique stuff is very religious too – lots of crosses and angels – so perhaps you would find some of it interesting.’

Cass felt like pointing out that just because she was a vicar, religion wasn’t her only interest – but that would be like knocking Anna back, and she didn’t feel that they had taken enough steps forwards yet, so she said nothing.

‘So, what do you do at the museum?’

Cass was now checking the cupboards to see if there was any washing powder left by summer visitors. She must find out how the washing machine worked – she had quite a large bag of dirty clothes, never having dared to use June’s pristine washing machine. She wouldn’t have wanted to get it dirty.

‘I work for the Mormons,’ Anna said.

‘I’m sorry, you what?’ Cass asked, from the cupboard.

‘I work for the Mormons,’ Anna repeated.

‘Mormons. What, the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints, those Mormons?’ Cass extricated herself from the search for washing powder.

‘Are there another kind? Yes. Those ones.’ Anna gave a twist of a smile and almost looked Cass in the eye.

‘In Rawscar? You work for the Mormons, in Rawscar?’

‘I do indeed work for the Mormons in Rawscar!’ Anna pronounced it the same way as Cass.

‘I’ve heard it all now. Go on, explain!’ Cass sat down at the table again, ready to listen.

‘Well, you know that they believe that you can retrospectively save your ancestors by baptising them after they’ve died?’

Cass nodded. She remembered hearing something about that when she was at theological college.

‘In order to do that you have to know who your ancestors were, so they fund a lot of genealogical research to find their ancestors and baptise them into their religion.’

‘So your job is finding dead Mormons? Are you a Mormon yourself?’

‘No! I’m not a believer at all, Vicar.’ Her tone of voice was half way between apology and defiance.

‘I don’t try and meddle with other people’s beliefs – or lack of them – so don’t worry. I won’t be trying to convert you. Though I’m always happy to talk if you want to – about anything, not just religion …’ she saw the closed look appear on Anna’s face once more and rapidly changed the subject. She had been warming to the subject of her work; Cass returned the conversation to that. ‘Tell me more about the Mormons. I’m fascinated. You’re doing the genealogical research for them?’

‘I’m digitising the archival collections up at the museum. The old Rawscar parish registers, and wills and letters and diaries from the family history collection; anything that might shed light on genealogical issues.’ She finished up her cup of coffee and put the cup and plate into the dishwasher, which Cass noticed was flashing that it was out of salt and rinse aid. Two more things to add to the shopping list. ‘I’ve got a contract for three years, touring around some of the more obscure collections in North East Yorkshire, and I’m living here for a year – I spent the summer working over in Saddleton Archives and I’m spending the winter doing Rawscar.’

‘It must be nice to be back in your home town for a while?’ Cass said gently, without asking anything directly she hoped to learn more about her family. Anna simply shrugged and slammed the dishwasher shut.

‘I’ll show you the jewellery this evening if you want?’

Well, it was a start.

Anna’s jewellery was genuinely fascinating. She took it out of three large vintage suitcases and laid it out on the bed in the little third bedroom for Cass to see, broken necklaces of jet and black glass which she had taken apart and restrung into fantasy gothic pieces, sometimes demure little chokers and sometimes intricate creations like glittering black chandeliers. For Cass, none of it had the charm of the original mourning pieces though; pendants and rings and brooches with woven hair displayed inside them; clasped hands and intertwined hearts of jet, and crosses, crucifixes and rosaries.

‘This is stunning, Anna! Really stunning.’

‘I knew you’d like the religious pieces. They have a certain truth and simplicity to them, don’t you agree?’ Sometimes Anna’s turns of phrase had a Victorian air to them; her old-fashioned speech matched her old-fashioned dress.

‘They do.’ Like the little old church of St. Stephen, they spoke to her of a simpler time. She fingered one of the plainest of the crosses, wondering how many people had done exactly that before her.

‘Now, I’d like to get on …’ Anna suggested, and Cass realised that she was being dismissed. But it was something: Anna had talked to her properly for the first time, even if it was only about her work.

Perhaps that was part of the problem with Anna – no wonder she seemed so highly strung and susceptible to ghostly imaginings when she spent her working week poring over records of the long dead and her weekends selling their cast-off jewellery to Goths.