Chapter 2

Dulcie and Peter's work with their visitors extended over nearly two weeks. Dulcie's sessions were almost certainly the hardest and by the time Lydia was satisfied, Dulcie was wrung out and drained, but, paradoxically, deeply happy. She woke up in Peter's arms the day after her last session with Lydia and just snuggled. It was Friday; the weekend with all the demands that placed on ministers was a day away. Peter opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze full of love but also respect; he recognised what the previous days had cost her.

He gently brushed hair away from her face and behind her ear.

"Any thoughts about today?"

"Mmmm. I wouldn't mind just staying in bed," she murmured, stroking his back with one hand while reaching lower with the other.

"Sounds wonderful, but we can hardly abandon our guests to their own devices all day. We could take a picnic down to the Bradwell peninsula – visit St. Peter's chapel, walk along the sea defences. Or have lunch at the Green Man."

"Can't I tempt you?" Dulcie pressed against him, but she was smiling gently.

He enjoyed the pressure of her body against him for several minutes. "You always tempt me, sweetheart ... and I usually succumb. But not this morning." He just squeezed her and tried to pull away, but she held him until she'd kissed him thoroughly.

After breakfast the four drove out of Maldon; through Mundon and Latchingdon, Mayland and Steeple. The roads are narrow; meeting a lorry is cause for a sharp intake of breath, but they weren't in a hurry. The fifteen miles took almost an hour. The road comes to an abrupt end at a farm; there is a muddy area to park a car and a five-bar gate, locked, preventing vehicles from proceeding. Pedestrians can walk the quarter-mile or so along the track to St. Peter's Chapel which stands in a grassy space, sloping slightly towards the sea; it's the site of a Roman fort which provided the materials to build the chapel in the seventh century, the building instigated by one St. Cedd, a Celtic Christian missionary. It has suffered through a number of changes over the years; now, it is a very simple and stark stone building, rectangular with small windows set high in the walls; inside, a stone floor, wooden benches and a stone altar. It is, arguably, the oldest place of Christian worship still in regular use in England; a quiet, serene, peaceful place. They sat there for some time without speaking.

When Dulcie was ready to move she stood quietly, intending to walk outside, leaving the others to stay as long as they wanted so she was a little surprised to see that they'd all stood within seconds of each other.

"I don't want to rush anyone..." she said, "I was just going to wander outside for a bit."

Lydia responded after a quick glance at Harry, "I think we're all ready to move on. It's a lovely place, isn't it?"

Dulcie thought that rather depended on what you were looking for; certainly the little chapel had a good atmosphere, but she thought the country round about rather dull and the building itself not inspiring architecturally, but she nodded and let them through the door first.

There is a footpath along the edge of the salt-marsh and they wandered along it, enjoying the breeze off the sea with its hint of salt and seaweed, as Peter talked about the history of the place. It's possible to follow the path along the coast to Bradwell Waterside, where there's a pub called the Green Man; they intended to have lunch there; but that was almost four miles ... each way.

"Lydia, Harry ... we could walk to the Green Man along this path, but it's four miles each way," Peter explained. "How do you two feel about that?"

Lydia and Harry looked at each other and at their watches. "If we take our time... " Harry began.

"Why not? We may be retired, but we're not decrepit," was Lydia's comment.

They walked steadily along, arriving at the pub by one o'clock and had an enjoyable meal, washed down with some red wine that Harry recommended. On the way back they stopped frequently – to watch birds on the saltings or among the reeds, to discuss the de-commissioned nuclear power-station. It was Harry that broached the subject of spiritual warfare.

"I know we've been concentrating on you two, Dulcie, Peter, but really, there's something going on here or you wouldn't have noticed a problem. You were fine in Sheffield at St. Jude's, weren't you?"

"Well, yes..." Dulcie frowned thoughtfully. "If we are a threat here, why weren't we a threat in inner-city Sheffield?"

"Quite," said Harry. "You must be threatening something here. I've got some suggestions, though..."

On Sunday morning, they began to put Harry's plans into action. Dulcie was to preside at the Eucharist; Peter would serve ... and Harry would preach. They would all survey the congregation to see what reactions they could pick up.

"Not," pointed out Harry, "that negative reactions in the church necessarily indicate the problem is among the congregation. But ... it's a place to start."

Dulcie and Peter were aware that ordained women were not universally welcomed in the church, and the 'high' Anglo-catholic St. Mary's had their share of objectors. (Two men in particular were observably hostile as Dulcie began the service and later were noticeably absent from the Communion rail, but there was no disturbance.)

Harry took as his text the last chapter of the letter to the Ephesians – 'The Whole Armour of God'. He was a good speaker, interspersing his clear exposition with illustrations, anecdotes and humour and for the most part held the attention of the congregation. Watching, Dulcie and Peter picked up three basic reactions. Probably half the congregation, although they enjoyed the humour and anecdotes, let most of what he said float over their heads. Of the rest, roughly half were displaying scepticism and half bright-eyed interest. They picked up no overt hostility. Harry ended with a reference to some words of Jesus – "A Kingdom divided against itself cannot stand" he quoted, "or as Benjamin Franklin said, 'We must all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately'."

At the end of the service, most of the congregation just shook hands with Harry and said something vague about enjoying his sermon. Some, however, had a longer chat before making a bee-line for either Peter or Dulcie, wanting to discuss Harry's sermon. One, however, accosted Dulcie and didn't want to discuss the sermon specifically. It was one of the hostile men. Dulcie quailed a little inside as he bore down on her, but she managed to maintain a calm demeanour. He cleared his throat and stood a little awkwardly.

"I ... need to apologise to you," he said. "As Reverend Banks said at the end of his sermon, we need to stand together. Perhaps I could come and talk to you sometime soon?"

Dulcie couldn't stop her eyebrows rising in surprise, but she smiled warmly.

"Apology accepted. When would suit you to meet?"

"I'm rather busy during the week," he said, "and I don't think matters should wait too long. It's ... I know you have a lot on your plate on Sundays, but could we meet this afternoon?"

"Certainly. What time would suit you? Three o'clock?"

"That sounds fine."

"Would you like Peter to be there, or is this something personal?"

He thought for a moment. "Perhaps it would be best if your husband was there, if you don't mind. It's just ... I don't want to suggest ... that you are less competent or something than your husband."

"I wouldn't take it like that. But Peter will join us unless there is some problem."

At that point, Peter, standing on the other side of the room, cleared his throat peremptorily.