Page 13

T here was nothing much to Kirkglen. It started with a hotel at the northern end, then trailed broadly south along the high street with its shops, salons, solicitors, estate agents, lone undertaker and cafés, passing through a wide market area.

‘Do you go?’

‘Sometimes. I’d like to see them put on some of the more controversial films. Don’t suppose the turn out would be much better, but it gives you something to talk about. Are you into film?’

‘I quite like foreign language ones, It’s fascinating to see how a different culture expresses itself.’

‘Mmm. Well, we have the occasional one, but they are, as I say, rather dull. Other groups meeting here are the mothers and toddlers, the Guild of course, the Art society, the camera club.’

‘Scouts, guides?’

‘They meet at the school. I think the argument is that they can use the equipment.’

‘Youth clubs?’

‘Not many youths really, most are weekly boarders elsewhere. We’re very remote.

It’s an odd sort of community. What youths there are during the week tend to be home-educated and you don’t see much of them.

At weekends they hang out in the cafés and down in the park or just disappear into each others’ houses.

Eventually the majority leave for university or what-have-you and you barely even see them at Christmas.

The population is like a well, people disappear away and then it miraculously fills up with new people, like you two.

People would have preferred you to have been a couple with children.

I’m sorry, that was rude. They think the same about me. ’

They were at the far edge of town walking towards the church. Rose realised she’d sighed without intending to be heard.

‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘being thirty-two and still living with my brother wasn’t exactly what I envisaged adult life to be either.

My parents died when we were in our teens and we sort of stuck together.

In the end it was just easier to become his PA and just stay where I was.

My husband and I were planning to get a place of our own and start a family, but it just didn’t get a chance to happen. Now Simon’s not well…’

‘Never explain,’ Sam repeated. She stood with hands rammed down into her pockets, smiling.

‘Anyway, just be aware that there’s always a bit of suspicion about single women.

Married locals think you’re going to steal their sons or husbands, the single ones think you’re going to muscle in on the eligible men.

Emmeline worries about us diluting - or possibly, polluting - the gene pool. ’

‘Really?’

‘I can’t work out any other reason why she’s so obsessed with the history of the place.

It’s all mad. The level of inbreeding that must have happened in places like this before decent roads doesn’t bear thinking about.

All the same, the women are a force to be reckoned with.

They’re like cats. They sidle up to you but you’re never sure whether they’re friend or foe.

The married ones try to feed you on cake to make you fat and unattractive. But it’s good cake so worth the risk.’

Rose laughed.

‘You think I’m joking? Just wait.’

‘Are there that many desirable men, single or otherwise?’

‘I’m not looking,’ said Sam, ‘but if I were, I’d rather they were interested in me because I’m me than because I’m an outsiderrr.’ She imitated the voice of a narrator in a bad horror film.

They had come to the lych gate.

The slopes and the edge of the forest to the east were closer here but otherwise the land stretched for miles unhindered, the road disappearing towards the distant city round a series of invisible bends.

The church itself was low and simple, lying at the edge of broad, open heathlands.

Under the grey, bad-tempered sky, it looked as it was hunkering down to keep out of the winds.

It seemed it either hadn’t wanted added frills and furbelows which would just be blown off in winter, or just wanted to keep a low profile and not invite any accusations of frivolity.

‘It’s unusual to see a medieval church this age so far out from the centre of town,’ Rose observed.

‘Black death,’ said Sam. ‘The people died or left and all the buildings except the church collapsed. They rebuilt the town further away, presumably to get away from the plague pit. You can see some of the stones where the walls were, but they’re mostly long gone.

In the meantime, over the centuries the churches won the local souls and the congregation for the church dropped.

The community hall was originally a temperance hall. ’

‘Really? I always imagine them full of people tub-thumping, getting just as aggressive and passionate as they would after a night on the beer.’

Sam laughed. ‘Me too, but at least they wouldn’t get a hang-over.’

They entered into the churchyard. Apart from the swathe of clear grass which Rose assumed was the plague pit, gravestones, ancient and modern filled the space with their markers of humanity from tiny stones with initials to grand Victorian monstrosities.

She thought of David’s ashes buried near his grandparents’ grave.

‘It’s not like you’ll visit it like we will,’ his mother Maggie had said. ‘Young people don’t do that sort of thing.’

Rose wondered why Sam had brought her here. The church seemed nothing out of the ordinary. Plain and simple, having weathered centuries of denominational rises and falls, now a little anachronistic perhaps.

‘I want you to meet someone,’ said Sam, as they walked between the graves.

‘Oh by the way, over there -’ she pointed to the other side of the road ‘-is where we want to build the new arts centre. The plan is for two theatres, one of which can be used for films, a small restaurant, a coffee shop/bar, local crafts and a small conference suite. Building it and manning it would create employment, the hotel would benefit from delegates staying, the community would have something to do other than sitting in front of TV. We could start a proper theatre company, an orchestra perhaps. Ultimately it would be a major boost to the place. Tourists have next to nothing to do when they visit. There’s interest from all over, just all halted by one woman. ’

‘You sound like you’ve got it all worked out. ’

‘Well not me, but one of the local women, Marie, has written a business plan and got funding ready and all we need is the planning permission.’

‘What’s Emmeline’s beef?’

‘What apart from Marie being a woman and not being in the home, knitting supper? I don’t know. It’s part of her fixation.’

Towards the back of the graveyard were some newer stones. Names were visible here, more of them still outlined in gold, flowers still kept fresh. But there were older ones too and a woman was walking round periodically crouching down and then writing in a note-book.

Seeing Sam and Rose, she came towards them and they stood by one of the newer graves, its mound still curved, a Celtic cross and something else carved into the stone. Without ignoring the other woman, Rose didn’t have time to make it out.

‘This is Alicia,’ said Sam. ‘Alicia, this is Rose who’s just moved here. I expect you’ve heard.’

‘Indeed,’ Alicia answered. She was dressed in jeans and plain shirt, her long hair pulled into a messy ponytail. ‘Welcome Rose. It’s trying having everyone know your business isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever got used to it.’

‘And you grew up here,’ said Sam.

‘Aye, got away and then came back.’ Alicia looked up at the church and back at Rose. ‘I’m the rector.’

Rose wasn’t sure how to respond. Being a priest must be like being a gynaecologist. You said what you did for a living and people either didn’t know what to say, told you that you knew nothing, or told you all their problems.

Alicia grinned. ‘So apart from Sam who have you met so far?’

Rose tried to remember. ‘Lena from the hairdressers, Hester Straun, Emmeline McPherson..’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I suppose she’s one of your parishioners,’ Rose suggested.

‘Och no,’ Alicia shook her head. ‘She won’t set a foot in the place.’

‘I would have thought she’d be pleased a woman was in charge. And sure the church stands for everything she values in terms of tradition.’

‘It’s not the way she likes women to be empowered and as for the church-going, well, she came when Reverend Donald was the incumbent.

He would do whatever she said. I, however, came back and started questioning who people ought to be worshipping.

Anyway, have you met anyone else? Not even your neighbour? I know he’s been away for a while.’

‘Rob? Oh yes, I’ve met him and Patrick and Lena’s brother Craig,’ Rose paused, trying to remember if she’d forgotten anyone, biting her lip and looking for inspiration at her surroundings, her eyes falling on the seven year old grave next to her.

In loving memory of Saoirse and Seren, beloved wife and daughter of Rob. Cruelly lost.

Alicia followed her gaze. ‘It’s partly why I came back. Saoirse was my friend. Rose, this is a strange place, I expect Sam’s warned you already, but keep your wits about you.’

The wind rose and started blowing from the forest to their left. Rose was aware of the leaves rustling and somewhere in its depth, a wolf howled.

Alicia and Sam looked at each other in surprise.

‘That’s unusual,’ said Sam. ‘We rarely hear from them and especially not in daytime. What do you suppose it means?’

Rose turned and started back to town, she said. ‘I’ve got to go.’