Chapter 4

Dulcie:

I’d hope it’s understandable that I was feeling satisfaction at the outcome of the turmoil in the lives of several people I’d become involved with. I should have known better than to hope my life would be quieter, at least for a time. With Don and Gabrielle off on their unusual honeymoon, I sat in my study sipping my coffee, musing on the possibility Richard and I might be losing our treasured housekeeper, adopted daughter and nanny.

The foregoing account, though, does complete the Upthorpe story at least to the point I am describing.

The phone rang and I picked up before Liina could get to it.

“Dulcie Chesterman.”

“Oh, Dulcie! Excellent! Jeremy. I’m not sure what I have to say will please you, though. We don’t usually get two requests for the Diocesan Exorcist in quick succession, but we have another. I understand that the previous request has been resolved.”

“It has,” I responded, carefully.

“A development company has purchased a conference centre just outside Maldon and are in the process of bringing it up to the standards they require. However, several of the construction workers have been disturbed by the atmosphere about the place, in particular in a ruined chapel, and none of them will go near it, if you can believe it.”

“Well, yes, Jeremy. I can believe it. In fact, I’m wondering if this might be a place I’ve encountered before, shortly after I arrived in Maldon, in fact.”

“Indeed? Anyway, could you get in touch with Mister Robison at XYZ Construction? They are understandably anxious to get on with the work.”

“Certainly. I’ll do that as soon as we’ve finished here.”

He chuckled, “Is that a hint? Well, we both have matters to attend to. Good to talk to you, Dulcie. God Bless.”

“Likewise. Thank you, Jeremy.”

I hung up, then picked up and dialled.

“XYZ Construction, Sam Robison. How may I help you?”

“Mister Robison, this is Dulcie Chesterman. The Bishop asked me to ring you. Apparently you have a problem with one of your projects.”

“My project, in fact. Woodham Hall. We’re intending to redevelop it as a hotel and retreat centre. Several of my workers have expressed unease about the Hall itself, and there’s a ruined chapel in the grounds that we want to restore, but none of my people will go near it. I don’t know what’s going on, but even I feel uncomfortable about the place, and I’m not particularly sensitive to atmosphere.”

“Would it surprise you to hear I had an unpleasant encounter there myself a few years ago?”

“You know, I don’t think it would. The site seemed like a bargain. It’s been unused and unoccupied for several years and we snapped it up when it went on the market. Can you help me?”

“Oh, I think so. It might be uncomfortable for me, too, but it looks as though it’s my pigeon to deal with. I’ll be in touch, as I want to round up some support. Tell me, are any of your people practising Christians? One way of dealing with the problem is to have an act of Christian worship in the chapel and bless it. In fact, we could pray round the Hall as well. I think that’d be a good idea. By the way, I’m not averse to sharing with persons of other faith, but obviously I have to deal with this in mine.”

“Oh, I understand. But if you could expedite your work, Ms Chesterman.”

“It’s Reverend, if we’re being formal, but I’d much rather be Dulcie.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Dulcie. In which case, I’m Sam. If you could just let me know when you’re coming? I suppose you won’t want to wear PPE?”

“Oh, I have my own ... PPE, Sam. Just not helmet and steel toe-caps. As long as there’s no danger of falling masonry. As I remember, the shell of the chapel is pretty sound? Unless it’s deteriorated in the last few years. Perhaps we might wear helmets in the Hall, if you think it’s necessary.”

“Oh, thank you. I would ask you to sign a disclaimer, but I agree the chapel shell is pretty solid. Safety shoes, helmet and hi-vis for the Hall, though.”

“Fine! I’ll be in touch, Sam. Bye!”

“Goodbye, Dulcie.”

“Hello, Sasha. Is Malcolm there?”

“Just a minute, and I’ll fetch him.” Pause. Then, “Dulcie?”

“Malcolm! Can you put me on speaker, so Sasha’s in as well?”

“Sure thing ... there. We’re both listening.”

“Think back to when you two met...”

“What? Dulcie?” An ill-synchronised, but understandable duet.

“I’ve been asked to exorcise that ruined chapel, so they can renovate it and use it for its original purpose. Apparently, the workmen can sense the atmosphere in the place, and won’t go near it. Come to think of it, that’s odd, since the police had no problem when they came back then, did they?” I was thinking aloud. “Anyway, whatever’s going on, I wondered if you would be interested in participating in a ceremony to cleanse the place, and probably celebrate Communion there?”

There was a pause. A very long pause, then Sasha’s voice. “Can we think about it?”

“Certainly! But I need to do something quite promptly if I can.”

Malcolm’s voice, “We’ll call you back later, or early tomorrow, Dulcie.”

“Thank you, both of you.”

We rolled up in front of the Hall, noting scaffolding and stacks of construction materials. I recognised the old chapel away to the right, surprised that I felt no unease at the sight.

A man emerged from the building in front of us, and a number of construction workers headed towards us as I got out of the car.

“Reverend Chesterman, I presume,” he smiled, approaching with his hand extended.

“You must be Sam Robison,” I said as I took the outstretched hand.

“Welcome to Woodham Hall, Dulcie.”

“Thank you, Sam.” I turned to see that Sasha and Malcolm had followed me out of the vehicle and were standing just behind me. “Sam, these are Sasha,” indicating, “and Malcolm Stevenson. Like myself, they both have had a personal encounter with that old chapel. They are both valued, active members of my church, and will help me do what’s necessary.”

“Would you like some refreshment first, or get straight to it?”

“Oh, I think we’ll get straight to it. I just need to sort out what we need. Give me a couple of minutes?”

He nodded, and I extracted a thurible, and handed it and matches to Malcolm, who proceeded to light the charcoal. I extracted the aspergillum (holy water sprinkler) and the associated bowl (aspersorium), handed them to Sasha and filled the bowl from a bottle I’d previously blessed. It took only moments to slip an alb over my head, cinch it round the waist with a rope girdle, and drape the scarlet stole round my neck.

“Is the place unlocked?” I asked, and when Sam nodded, I turned to the eight men in assorted hi-vis, helmets and safety footwear. “Gentlemen. What I am about to do should be safe. Routine, almost. But before we start I’d like to take the precaution of anointing you, if I may?” I did wonder, since a couple of them appeared Middle-Eastern in origin, but none demurred, and I marked each on the forehead with a cross in olive oil. I then picked up my portable Communion set, and headed for the building concerned, opened the door, and entered.

I immediately felt the same disquiet the workers had complained of, but none-the-less they all followed Sasha, Malcolm and myself inside.

The layout was as I remembered, and Sasha headed straight for the stone altar, while Malcolm gently swung the thurible, which was now emitting the scented smoke of the incense. He walked slowly around the area. When Sasha reached the altar, though it was not a warm day, the water hissed as it landed on the stone; she continued to sprinkle until the hissing stopped, at which point she left the altar and Malcolm proceeded to circle it, ensuring that the incense smoke surrounded it thoroughly. Meanwhile, Sasha identified the still visible sockets, into which frames had been placed; I remembered, vividly, how the abducted girls, Sasha included, had been strapped down, naked, to be raped. She sprinkled each place thoroughly before circling the whole space.

(Later, back at St. Mary’s, Sasha wept as Malcolm held her while both of them released the emotions engendered by the experience).

Before Sasha and Malcolm had finished, I laid out the cloths and Communion vessels on the stone altar, and when they finished, they approached the altar themselves. I began to speak.

Now, I love the psalms, which speak to most if not all of men’s needs and conditions, but don’t think I have them by heart. Sometimes, though, words come unbidden, and they are often from the psalms, or paraphrases of the psalms. At those times I am merely a channel; while powerful things happen then, it’s not from me except insofar as I am willing to open my mouth and speak. The nature of prophecy is often misunderstood, for that is what I am talking about. Prophecy may foretell the future, but usually addresses the present.