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He seized on them to organise his thoughts. His internet searches yielded thousands of results. A break between land and water; a lake, or an island, domicile addresses of named families, possible corroborations in old newspapers, and the locations of Tors and crosses. It made little sense at first but piece-by-piece he assembled it on the largest wall in his flat.Increasingly, he forced himself to relive his encounter with Delilah for any clues. As a facsimile of a facsimile, it lost its power to terrify. Sat in his armchair, he closed his eyes and recalled that look on Delilah’s face. The aloof assertiveness and the ripple of power in her eyes he mistook for confidence. If anyone did come looking for him, he felt confident he would know them on sight. His mission was clear; he needed to avoid any further transgressions.Emboldened, he rattled the tumbler of the safe door and pushed down on its handle. The soft leather yielded in his hands, and he gazed at the slim black ring. “I didn’t mean for this to be on your bill,” he told her. “I’ll keep it short.”“I’m in a comfortable chair,” she replied. “I meant for it to be a long call. Minimum salary isn’t that minimal.” Which certainly sounded like she enjoyed talking with him, and not -- from her tone -- to scold him for taking advantage of her.“Well, I’m not too bright, but sometimes ideas do get through. Y’know, your congregation wants to feed you on Sundays. There is no reason that I have to compete with that. I know about committee meetings; Lord, how I know. Still, are you available any week nights? What’s your schedule this week?” There was a pause, but not a daunting one.“I have trustees on Wednesday and choir practice every Thursday.”“I have late afternoon classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Would Friday cut into sermon prep too much?”“Friday would be fine.”“Expect me then. Parsonage at five o’clock?” She agreed. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end the conversation, either.Now, if only the weather.
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