Read Online Unseen Things Above by Catherine Fox - Free Book Online

canvases and cleared a couple of nudes with his clergy colleagues (the exhibition is now referred to informally as ‘Cocks in the Cathedral’). The publicity material looks stunning. But there are delays with the specially commissioned new display boards. If they don’t arrive in time, what the hell’s he going to do? Bang picture hooks into the medieval masonry?
    The canon precentor is also stressed. Shortlisting for the post of tenor lay clerk has taken place. They are down to four. Three appointable candidates with appropriate experience and solid references. And one Freddie May.
    After evensong Giles invites Timothy, the director of music, along with Nigel, the senior lay clerk (a sort of shop steward cum supergrass figure) back for a glass of Mosel and a little conflab.
    â€˜Nigel, tell me candidly and completely off the record: can you bear the thought of Mr May standing next to you at every evensong for as long you both shall live?’
    â€˜I’d rather that than have him dep for me,’ says Nigel. ‘My cassock was impregnated with weed and Le Male for weeks after he’d worn it.’
    â€˜Olfactory objections aside, you’d be happy?’ says Giles.
    â€˜Of course. He’s a major talent. We did all the hard graft when he was the chorister from hell. Are we seriously going to let someone else poach him now?’
    â€˜Yes, but let’s be frank: he’s a liability. Potentially.’
    â€˜Never fear, Mr Precentor. We’ll make sure he lives a godly, righteous and sober life.’
    â€˜Of course you will, Mr Bennet. The gentlemen of the choir are famed for their godly sobriety. Timothy, what do you think? You’d be his line manager.’
    Timothy hesitates. ‘I wonder whether we could identify someone to mentor him?’
    â€˜Don’t look at me ,’ says Nigel.
    â€˜Unless you’re offering to pay me extra?’ suggest Giles.
    â€˜Are you?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Well then.’
    â€˜I was thinking we need someone completely outside Lindchester circles,’ continues Timothy. ‘Someone he’d look up to, respect, who’s au fait with the choral tradition. Who could offer him support. And the occasional . . . er, steer, when necessary.’
    Mr Dorian? wonders Giles. Or would that be like making Vlad the Impaler school javelin monitor? ‘We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s see if he manages to turn up for the interview clothed and in his right mind first. We can worry about mentors later.’
    *
    It’s day off eve. Away on the far side of the diocese, in the rectory of Gayden Magna, Father Ed puts a bottle of champagne in the fridge.
    Hang on in there . Ed got the message all right. That little pep talk was a ‘friendly’ warning not to break ranks and get married, wasn’t it? There are no words for how deeply, bitterly, Ed resents the archdeacon’s patronizing interference.
    His heart judders like stumbling feet.
    When Neil gets in from London, he’s going to tell him, ‘Yes.’
    Chapter 6
    A nother bank holiday. Our good friend Bishop Bob is sitting in his back garden with a cup of coffee this morning, enjoying the fine weather and a rare break from the burdens of office. It is upon his shoulders that the pastoral weight of the diocese currently rests. He is praying for the CNC, and for the next bishop of Lindchester, whoever that might be. Poor Bob is horrendously busy, and this lends his prayers a real poignancy. I won’t say urgency, as that suggests a directness that is not characteristic of Bob’s spiritual style. He is not one to request parking spaces of the Almighty. Nor is his wife, Janet. But this is because she’s afraid that the Almighty might grant her one, and then she won’t be able to manoeuvre into it. Blunt though her prayers usually are, it seems a bit cheeky to pray for fifty yards of clear kerb just because you are rubbish