Murder in a Cathedral Read Online Free PDF Page A

given us the strength to face every challenge. Are you saved, Mr Amiss?’
    Amiss’s nerve deserted him. ‘Er, um, ah, no, um, that is, well, I’m just ordinary Church of England.’
    She smiled her saintly smile and took a sip of water. The waiter came up behind her and offered wine. ‘No, thank you. I need no stimulants.’
    ‘I do,’ said Amiss faintly. ‘White, please.’
    ‘It is wonderful to know that God has shaped you for a divine purpose. And that is what he has done for Norm and I…’
    ‘Me,’ said Amiss automatically.
    She was puzzled but polite. ‘Norm and you? Well, yes of course you are welcome to help with God’s work.’
    Amiss blenched. ‘Which is?’
    ‘To drive out the Antichrist,’ she said darkly.
    ‘Who is where?’
    She shook her head. ‘This is a joyful day and we must dwell on what is joyful. How often do you go to church to praise the Lord and where do you go?’
    ‘I’ve been on the move a bit. Haven’t got a regular church.’
    ‘Where do you live?’
    ‘London.’
    She clapped her hands. ‘Thank you, Jesus! Now you see what I mean about the divine purpose. We have just left our Battersea church, but it is in the best of hands. You must go there and hear the good news. When Norm took over four years ago few people came to the church, for the people had lost their way. When I joined him in matrimony there were many hundreds. By the time we left there were thousands of worshippers praising Jesus. And Bev Johns, who helped Norm with the great work and is our friend in Christ, is Norm’s successor and full of the holy spirit.’ She put her hand on Amiss’s arm. ‘I must introduce you to him. Look over there. Do you see him? The vital figure sitting close to the door.’
    Amiss obligingly craned round. ‘Do you mean the chap with the ponytail?’
    ‘Yes, yes. That is Bev.’ She gazed earnestly at Amiss. ‘Bev saves souls from hell like a man possessed by God.’
    She slid her hand down Amiss’s arm and clasped his wrist. ‘Promise me you will seek out Bev’s church.’
    ‘I’m afraid I’m not a churchgoer.’
    ‘You must not be afraid. Jesus drives out fear. And the Church of St John the Evangelist is into Christianity, not Churchianity.’
    Amiss felt sick. ‘I’m sure it does excellent work.’
    She let his hand go and addressed herself delicately to her melon. ‘It is true that we have been the means of bringing people to the Lord. But I say that in no vainglorious spirit. We are but humble vessels and the Lord works through us.’
    Amiss looked covertly and longingly towards Davage, who was engaged in animated conversation about a decorated commode he had uncovered in a junk shop the previous week. There was no respite. For the duration of the meal, in her South-London-overlaid-with-irritating-gentility accent, Tilly Cooper praised the Lord, repented of her sins, struggled towards the light and spoke in numbing detail of the manner in which she and Norm and Bev had acted as a team to bring to God the old, the spiritually lost and those rejected by a materialistic and degenerate society.
    By the time the waiter arrived with coffee – which Tilly of course eschewed – she was discoursing on the happiness brought to her by her Bible-story classes for children. ‘I write them little songs,’ she explained. ‘It is a great joy to me that they seem to help them. They clap their little hands and warble along.’
    ‘Splendid.’
    ‘Would you like me to sing you the latest?’
    ‘Now? Here?’
    She giggled. ‘Very low, of course.’
    Anything was better than her conversation, thought Amiss. He tried to look overjoyed. ‘What fun! Please go ahead.’
    In a low, simpering childish voice she sang:
‘If you pray most every day
Jesus takes you by the hand
And leads you to the smiling land
Where even little daisies pray.’
    ‘Delightful,’ said Amiss faintly.
    ‘Oh, no. That’s only the opening verse. It’s the chorus I really want you to hear:
‘So