Laura shook her head. She was smiling. ‘No my darling, it’s not radioactive. And it is rock crystal. You are right.’

Abi stared down at it for a few more seconds, then abruptly she gathered it up with both hands and stood up. ‘Here, take it!’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ Laura reached out for it almost tenderly and rewrapped it. Carrying it across the room she laid it reverently back in its box.

‘I could feel it moving. As if it were alive.’

Laura laughed. ‘Not alive. Just powerful.’

Abi shuddered. ‘Mummy! For God’s sake, tell me. What is it?’

‘I can’t explain while you are still a vicar, Abi. I will tell you all about it when you have left the Church.’

‘I’m not leaving the Church!’ Abi looked up at her, startled. ‘At least, only that particular church. Possibly. I will still be a priest.’ She stood up and moved slowly across the room to stare out of the window. ‘What on earth is there about that stone you can’t tell me if I’m a priest? Is it voodoo or something?’ She fell silent for a moment. Her mother didn’t reply. ‘I thought you were OK with me being in the Church,’ she said sadly. She stared down into the garden.

There was a long silence. ‘I am OK with it, darling,’ Laura said at last. ‘Of course I am. How could I not be.’ She gave short laugh. ‘I am proud of you. Very proud. I misunderstood, that’s all.’

‘So, tell me about the rock. What is it?’

‘Just that. A piece of rock.’

‘No. There is obviously something special about it. Something weird.’ Without realising it Abi was wiping the palms of her hands up and down on the seat of her jeans.

Laura slotted the box back into the drawer and pushed it closed. She stood up and faced her daughter. ‘I just wanted you to know about it and to know where I keep it. If anything ever happens to me you must take it and keep it somewhere safe. Understand? And one day you must pass it on to your daughter in turn. I will tell you its story. But not now. For now we will leave it alone. And I will tell you why. The story will change your view of the Church forever. It might destroy your faith. That’s what it did for me. No!’ Her voice was suddenly sharp. ‘That is enough. Not another word.’ Just for a second Abi caught an expression in her mother’s eye she had never seen before. It had gone before she could interpret it. There was anxiety there, and some kind of calculation and something else. Satisfaction. That was it. In spite of her seeming disappointment at Abi’s reaction, something had happened that had pleased her mother very much indeed.

St Hugh’s Church stood silently in the evening sun at the end of its muddy lane. Leaving her car in the layby near the gate on her way back to her flat that evening, Abi threaded her way through the deserted churchyard past gravestones yet again sprayed with red swastikas. She found herself thinking suddenly about her mother’s old piece of crystal as she glanced at the piles of crushed lager cans that had been lobbed at the stones, the broken bottles and empty syringes lying in the grass. Her parents’ house might as well be on a different planet. She sighed sadly, glancing up at the windows, heavily wired to stop them being broken, and breathed a quiet prayer. How often had she cleared up the mess in the last couple of months, her hands heavily gloved, a huge binbag beside her? And every time it had happened again. Would changing the use of the church save it from this? Make the people care? Sadly she doubted it.

Unlocking the door, she pushed it open and pocketed the key. Inside she was greeted by an overwhelming, almost audible, silence. It felt more intense than usual, she realised; more profound. Pushing the door closed behind her she listened to the heavy clunk as the latch dropped into place before walking softly up the aisle to stand for a moment in the semi-darkness in front of the altar. The tough walls, the lancet windows with their ancient stained glass, the breath of long-forgotten incense which seemed to hang in the air, all brought an atmosphere of deep peace to the old church. She loved it like this when she was here alone but this would probably be the last time. Her spell as pretend priest-in-charge was over. Tomorrow, if all went according to plan, Kieran was coming up here with a group of supporters from St John’s to clear up the churchyard and move all the old pews out of the nave. She shook her head, trying not to feel sad. They were going to change the church into a socialising space, bringing in toys and drawing things for the small children; coffee and mugs for the mums. That was right. That was how it should be. They hoped it would encourage people to care for the place, to love it and look after it. It would bring in the young mothers, reinforce a community feeling, introduce them to each other and to the church. She would probably be the only one to mourn the silence and the sanctity. Another thought struck her and she sighed. Tomorrow, thanks to her avoidance skills, would be the first time she had seen Kieran since his frenetic proposal that she move back into the Rectory. She frowned. It was his last chance to prove he could behave normally towards her. There would be a lot of other people here. She would be safe.

She looked up at the cross on the wall behind the altar below the east window. It was carved and old and didn’t look worth stealing so it had been left alone. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘We are doing the right thing here? And it is right for me to try and stay?’

A light came on behind her in the body of the church and she turned round nervously. It was a moment before she realised that it was a last ray of sunlight slanting low through the stained glass window as the sun slipped down behind the trees, throwing gently coloured patterns onto the flags at her feet. She caught her breath, staring at it, mesmerised as near her, suddenly, someone started to sing.

‘Love divine, all loves excelling,

Joy of heaven, to earth come down’

Abi peered towards the empty choir stalls, trying to see into the shadows as the pure, breathy voice sang on, the words of the hymn barely audible. She had seen no-one there when she had come in.

‘Hello?’ Abi moved away from the altar rail and slowly walked down towards the choir stalls. ‘Who’s there?’ She put her hand up, shading her eyes against the sun.

The singing stopped abruptly.

‘Please, don’t stop,’ Abi called out. ‘That was beautiful.’

She could sense someone listening. ‘Where are you? I can’t see you.’ As suddenly as it had appeared the ray of sunlight disappeared as the sun slid down behind the trees outside. The church fell into semi-darkness and she sensed she was alone again.

‘Come back, please.’ Her own voice sounded plaintive and thin. There was no response.

Slowly and methodically she searched the church, unlocking the vestry, peering into corners and under pews. But she knew there was no point. ‘It was a ghost,’ she whispered to herself. ‘An echo from the past.’

The thought didn’t frighten her; since she was a child she had been aware of the world beyond the world. Ghosts were part of the wonder of God’s creation, but she had never heard anything this clearly before. It made her feel blessed.

Reaching the far end of the church she paused and turned back to look up the aisle. A man was standing at the altar. A vicar, but not Kier. This man was taller, with white hair, dressed in a black cassock. He turned as she watched and looked directly at her. Slowly he raised his hand and she saw him make the sign of the cross and as he did so she realised the church was full of people. Shadowy figures crowded the pews, there were candles alight on the altar and in the distance she could hear it again, the pure voice echoing into the silence.

‘Jesus, thou art all compassion,

Pure unbounded love thou art;’

Mesmerised, she watched. She was being shown something so special it took her breath away.

Behind her the latch on the door lifted and the door creaked open. She spun round, shocked at the noise and found herself face to face with Kier. ‘I saw your car.’ He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The church was suddenly still and dark and very empty. There were no longer candles on the altar. The singing had stopped abruptly, leaving not even an echo in the vaulted roof. The suddenness of the change of atmosphere left her feeling bereft and strangely empty.

Staring round nervously he reached for the bank of switches, clicking them on one by one until the nave was blazing with light. ‘I’ve come to prepare for tomorrow.’ His voice was bleak. ‘The sooner this mausoleum is transformed the better.’ She saw him glance at her but he made no move towards her. He seemed anxious.

‘It’s not a mausoleum, it’s a beautiful old country church,’ she said reproachfully. She was overwhelmed by a wave of sadness. ‘Are you sure, Kier? Are you sure this is what God wants us to do here?’

He frowned. ‘Of course this is what God wants.’ He shivered. ‘What use is a church that’s used by only a minute ageing congregation? For goodness sake, Abi, we’ve talked about this.’ He sounded thoroughly irritated. ‘What I plan will bring in the young mothers, the teenagers. When the new development starts, there will be more families, people who want somewhere as a social centre, maybe a drop in clinic. It will still be a church. We will still hold services here. They will just be different.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘I can smell candles. Have you been burning candles in here?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Would it matter if I had?’

He shook his head. ‘Of course not. It’s just odd. It smells so strongly.’ To her surprise she saw beads of sweat break out on his forehead.

Impulsively she took a step towards him. ‘Kier, I saw them. Just now. The congregation that used to worship here. The candles were their candles. The rector was here. I expect his name is one of those on the wall up there. He blessed the church. Someone was singing. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her. It was wonderful…’ Her voice died away.