Chapter 1

Dulcie had just settled at her desk when she heard the phone ring, and Liina’s footsteps going to answer it. Moments later, the instrument on her desk rang, and she picked it up.

Liina’s voice announced, “Dulcie, it’s the Bishop.”

“Thanks. I’ve got it.” Then, “Hello, Bishop! What can I do for you this morning?”

“Good morning, Dulcie. It’s Jeremy, remember? At least in private. I’d like you to come and see me. It’s fairly urgent.”

“Problem?”

“Only for me and the Diocese! You’re not in any trouble, but if you could come in the next few days...”

“I can come after lunch, if you like?”

“Wonderful! Thank you. I’ll see you later, then.”

It was impossible to settle to anything serious following the call, and she quickly decided to take a walk. Letting Liina know what she was doing, she left the Rectory, crossed the open park ground and walked to the end of the Prom. On the way back, she stopped at one of the refreshment kiosks, bought coffee and fruit cake, and took it to sit looking at the river – or, rather, the trickle of water down the middle of the mud banks – and the wading birds pecking around at the water’s edge.

Her snack finished, there was only one other place she could consider, and made her way to St. Mary’s. There, not for the first time, she prostrated herself in front of the High Altar.

In the place where her first husband had lain, mortally wounded, she felt herself surrounded by ‘a great crowd of witnesses’. Aware of familiar, loving presences, she lay, luxuriating in the experience.

Then, the voice more welcome even than her first husband. “Dulcie, Beloved.”

“My Lord?”

“Little Sister, I have a new challenge for you, if you will accept it.”

“How could I not, for You?”

“None the less, this will be your choice, my dear. You may continue as you are if you wish. If you choose to accept, you may be sure of everything you need to meet it.”

“But I can continue as I am now?”

“If you wish.”

The sense of being surrounded disappeared, and Dulcie rose, left the church, and returned to the Rectory in time for lunch.

“Come in, Dulcie, come in.”

“Thank you, um, Jeremy.” Dulcie looked around the Bishop’s study, which was much like many clergy studies; lined with books, a window out into a garden (well tended – not always the case with clergy), a small wooden cross, assorted memorabilia. It was not the first time she’d been in the office by any means, but previous visits had all been significant and she couldn’t help but feel a degree of apprehension.

“Take a seat, Dulcie.” He walked round his desk and sat with her without the obstruction of the desk. “We have something of a problem.” He sighed. Dulcie sat quietly, receptive, wondering.

“Father Worsley is retiring. He was been warned that his heart failure is such that he should stop working.”

“Oh, poor man! I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So are we all. You may already know that Diocesan Exorcists are often ... usually ... High Church, and male*. We are in something of a quandary as to his replacement.” He took a deep breath, and went on, “You have broken the mould, Dulcie; a woman appointed to a High Church benefice, and – if you’ll forgive the generalisation – a charismatic.”

*(I have no idea if this is actually the case!)

“Jeremy, how does this concern me?”

“We are offering you the appointment.” He raised his hand to forestall her response. “You will remain at St. Mary’s, of course. I cannot face the protests should I suggest you leave! But you will require some additional support, and the Diocese will pay at least for a part-time curate.”

Dulcie sat, stunned, for a noticeable length of time. “When would you need my answer, Jeremy? I must consult with my husband, and some of the PCC, I think.”

“It is a matter of some urgency, but you must certainly take as long as you need to be sure of your way forward.”

“I did have a ... warning, I suppose, of a ‘new challenge’, and this is definitely that. It’ll take a few days, but I can give you a response within a week, I think.”

“That will be fine. Look, Dulcie, I’ll just say you have my full confidence, and as a candidate you’re way ahead of the next possibility.”

“Thank you ... Jeremy. That means a lot to me.”

“Oh, and you may be interested to know that the first nomination for you as his successor came from Father Worsley himself.”

Dulcie’s jaw dropped. “Really? I thought he didn’t approve of me.”

The Bishop chuckled and nodded. “He told me that whatever his views of women in authority in the church, he couldn’t deny, as he put it, ‘your anointing for ministry’.”

“I’m shocked!”

“So was I.”

Dulcie:

I never had a plan for the future. When I met Peter, Sara, and Jesus, I was, well overwhelmed, and then after that, things just sort of happened. Sara died, and I cared for Peter, loved him, married him. Wanting to be a part of the Church, I trained and, in due course, was ordained. Like Peter himself, I never set out to be anything more than a parish priest, and that only happened in stages, and because I was invited; I wouldn’t be Rector here if ... if Peter hadn’t died. Oh. Peter...

Peter used to say he’d never had ambition to be more than a parish priest. I just never wanted to do more than follow Jesus. An invitation to a Diocesan advisory appointment? Not really. Diocesan Exorcist! Really...

Back home that evening, Richard just smiled. “Follow your calling, darling.”

“Are there many calls for an exorcist, Dulcie?” Liina frowned, “I wouldn’t have thought many people believed in that these days.”

“Do you know, I don’t know,” I replied. “I do know that from time to time someone will claim their house is haunted, and ask the parish priest to bless it. I didn’t ask how often the Diocesan Exorcist is asked for. I should have.”

Still Dulcie:

“Father Worsley? It’s Dulcie Chesterman.”

“Well, hello, young lady. What can I do for you this morning?”

“The Bishop asked me if I was willing to become the Diocesan Exorcist.”

“Ah, yes. I suggested your name when I had to ask to retire.”

“It’s just that I didn’t ask how big a commitment it would be. Thank you for your compliment, by the way. I was surprised.”

“You shouldn’t be, Dulcie. I don’t think there’s anyone left in the Diocese, even in the Anglo-Catholic wing, who doesn’t recognise your calling. But to answer your question, it’s hardly onerous. Maybe once or twice a year, there’s a house to exorcise or bless. Since I was appointed, I’ve dealt with three individuals and in each case it was more a case of hearing their confession and anointing them with oil than exorcising. It’s more about theatre, usually. But I’m quite sure you can deal even with the serious stuff, or I wouldn’t have suggested you.”

“I can only thank you for the compliment, Father. My only concern really is the possibility of neglecting my pastoral responsibilities.”

“Indeed. A most commendable concern. I am sure you will pray and make your decision honestly. If you do accept the commission, I would be glad to offer such advice and support as I can.”

“Thank you, Father. I will, indeed, pray about this.”

“Andrew, Arthur, Sasha, Malcolm ... thank you for coming so promptly.”

They smiled, their expressions showing curiosity and concern in equal measure. “We’re happy to help in any way we can,” Arthur Glover spoke for all of them. “What can we do?”

“I have been asked to take on the role of Diocesan Exorcist,” Dulcie told them, “but I am concerned about the effect that would have on my role as Rector, not to mention as wife and mother. The Diocese would help us with some finance to take on a part-time pastoral worker. I would like to hear your comments.”

The four looked at each other, and it was Sasha Stevenson who, rather tentatively, spoke; she watched carefully for any negative reaction from Arthur or Andrew. “Dulcie, I know without a doubt, your ... fitness ... for the role.”

“And I,” interposed Andrew, “am quite certain you would never neglect your pastoral duties. Besides, you and Peter taught us that we’re all part of the ministry of the church.”