Chapter 3

Peter and Dulcie missed Paul at morning prayer; he'd been a feature, always in the same pew, for the previous fortnight. After the service, they walked down the little hill to the quay. Aglaia – and Paul – were gone.

"I wish I could say I was surprised," Peter said, "but I'd hoped he might be a fixture."

Dulcie slipped her hand into her husband's.

"Don't write him off yet," she replied. "It's been an emotional roller-coaster for him. You can't expect him to be reasonable. I think the Lord's got His plans for him, just like He has for us"

He squeezed her hand. "I thank God every day that He brought us together. I can't imagine what my life would have been without you."

Releasing his hand she slipped her arm round his waist and pulled him close. "It's mutual. I just wish..." she trailed off, but Peter heard anyway what she didn't say; 'I wish it hadn't been because Sara died."

Paul had set off, but he didn't get very far. An hour down river, he felt so uncomfortable and tired he dropped anchor by Osea Island and went to bed. He slept heavily and dreamed of Linda. She was walking in a field of wild flowers; she looked straight at him, smiled and waved, but went on walking. He watched her out of sight. He wanted to resent her happiness, but he couldn't.

When he woke, he'd slept over eight hours and felt rested. More to the point, the tide had turned and the wind had veered easterly. He wouldn't be sailing anywhere but back to Maldon in the next three to four hours. It was tempting to motor over the flood but there was little point in burning the diesel. He made coffee and sandwiches while he thought. Something was pulling him back to Maldon. A couple of hours before high water, he weighed anchor and sailed back the way he came. Berthing at the visitors' pontoon again, he made a rough stow and went in search of a longer-term mooring. Surprisingly he was able to find one and move Aglaia to it while there was still enough water in the river. A harbour stow and tidy up took him to nearly six o'clock; he shook his head resignedly and made his way to St. Mary's for Evening Prayer.

Peter Hanson told himself he shouldn't have been surprised, but throughout the time he'd known Dulcie he'd constantly been surprised by her perceptions. His church-warden wanted to speak to him after the service but he shook his head.

"Just a moment, Bert, I want to catch Paul Meadows before he goes." He dodged a couple of old ladies and got to Paul as he was getting up out of the pew. "Paul ... I hope you'll come back to the Rectory with me for supper?" When Paul nodded, he added, "I hope I won't be long, Bert wants to tell me something."

Bert was elderly and very earnest. He took perhaps ten minutes to explain something about the care of the trees in the churchyard.

"If you think it's a matter of safety, Bert," he paused and the old chap shook his head uncertainly, "let's get the Standing Committee together after Mass on Sunday and have a chat about it. In the meantime ... would you like to get some quotes from tree-surgeons?" Bert nodded and Peter thought he was about to start talking again so he added, "I need to get back to Dulcie. If you ask about some figures, we'll discuss it on Sunday."

Peter showed Paul into the lounge. "Supper will be an hour or so," he said, "Dulcie is doing some visiting and should be back soon. I'm ... sorry about Linda."

"Thanks. It was hard to come back and find out she loved me really but didn't want to tie me down when she was dying. Then ... I thought for a bit she might be healed. I never had her faith ... never understood it. But," he paused, groping for the right words, "I see something real, in her, in you and Dulcie, in her parents. When she died ... I was half impressed by ... the reality of it all, and half furious with a God who would take her away from me."

"I know," Peter frowned, "I was deeply in love with Sara ... my first wife. It was like ... we were two halves of one whole person. We took Dulcie in, you know..."

"She told me a little of her background."

"Probably not very much. Anyway, Sara was killed by a falling television set someone chucked over a balcony. They never did find out who'd done it. I ... came apart. It was Dulcie that looked after me until I came back to sanity. But for you, it's as though you've been bereaved twice, isn't it?"

Paul thought about that. "Exactly like that."

"Do you know what you're going to do now?"

"Well ... it doesn't look as though I'm going back to my cruise. My budget is all messed up anyway and well, when I set off down the river it was as though something was holding me back; like ... walking through deep mud, or against a really strong wind. Then, when I would have gone on, I had the wind and tide against me, plus feeling a ... pull ... back here. I suppose I'll have to find work ... and probably find somewhere to live."

"What do you do?"

"I was in IT. Web design mainly, but also networking and I can hum the tune of repairing too."

"Hm. I think I might have a suggestion for you, but I want to run it past Dulcie first then ask the people I'm thinking of." He looked at his watch. "Time to get some vegetables on." He stood and left the room, leaving Paul to entertain himself by examining the books that lined one wall. It was a fascinating mix; some religious, as you'd expect, classics, adventure, romance, mystery; biography, history ... a complete set of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books.

When Peter returned he found Paul standing by the bookshelves dipping into 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'. He looked round. "I was a little surprised to find this on your bookshelf. I thought church people didn't approve of this sort of thing."

"I'm ambivalent," Peter admitted. "You'll find advocates for both sides of the issue. Personally, I think they are very well written, very clever stories exploring the issue of good and evil. I was very uneasy about the magic and the whole premise, but I soon wanted to follow Harry through to the conclusion. Borrow it if you like."

They heard Dulcie come in; she embraced and kissed her husband before turning to Paul with a gentle smile. "I'm glad you came back," she said, closing the distance between them and giving him a hug. He was conscious of an enormous feeling of well-being as she held him, though embarrassed to be very aware of the pressure of her breasts against him.

"Thank you," he said as they separated. "We've just been discussing Harry Potter."

"Ah, yes," she smiled as she went back to Peter. "Good and evil, power and 'agape'. Magic, sorcery, death and resurrection ... she fitted it all in."

"Agapay?" Paul repeated the word phonetically.

"Greek," Peter said. "Greek has several words for love. The word most used in the Bible is agape, which means ... self-sacrificial, giving, caring love. As distinct from erotic, sexual love or friendly, family love. But I think supper ought to be about ready. Shall we go and eat?"