She shook her head, too upset to speak, turning her head away. Out there on the waters of the mere a stray beam of sunlight pierced the mist, highlighting the ripples to a glittering carpet. ‘You saw something?’

‘Nothing. I saw nothing.’ She blinked away the tears.

He moved round slightly so he was facing her again and she felt his gaze on her face. She refused to meet his eyes and after a moment he sighed. She felt his finger touch her cheek, stroking away a tear. ‘The time has come for me to go home, Mora,’ he said after another moment’s silence. ‘Joseph will soon be arriving in Axiom. I have to go and speak to your father and tell him.’

Somehow she forced a smile. ‘He is going to miss you. He looks forward to your talks together, your exchange of stories.

He nodded. ‘The way of your people, to instruct with stories and poems. Never to write the important things down. It intrigues me. There are clear messages there in the stories for everyone and yet only the initiates understand the hidden meanings. We write down our laws and our histories, the rules of our religion. You remember yours.’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes by writing things down they are cast in stone. That is not always good either.’

She nodded. She lifted her hand and put it over his, where it lay on her shoulder. She felt the muscles and bones, the strong sinews under her fingers, warm and vibrant, without scars, and she quickly brushed away another tear.

Abi slipped out of bed and went to kneel by the window, watching the crimson light flood across the sky. Through Mora’s eyes she had seen a vision of Jesus’ wounds. Out there, on the hillside above the Chalice Well, a druid priestess had touched the hands of Jesus and traced the wounds of the Crucifixion with her finger; felt his blood warm on her hands. Awed, she closed her eyes and began to pray.

It was half an hour later that she was interrupted by a quiet tap on the door. It was Cal. ‘I don’t know if you want to have breakfast before the B & B guests appear? Up to you.’

Abi was out of the house by nine, glancing up at the stormy sky. The old saw was right. It was going to rain. Already the wind was tearing at the leaves, whirling them into the air, and heavy clouds were racing in, piling up into threatening masses over the Mendips. The first heavy raindrops began to fall as she headed for the car.

Justin was already at the Rectory, closeted with Ben in his study. Janet let Abi in and took her coat from her. She had managed to get soaked in the short run from the car. She shook back her hair and ran her fingers through it in an attempt to restore it to some kind of order. She saw her hostess glance at it.

‘Wild weather!’ Janet said brightly. ‘Come in. They are waiting for you.’ Her sudden look of disapproval as she opened the door led Abi to suspect she was not one of Justin Cavendish’s fans either.

Justin was sprawled in one of the fireside chairs, Ben standing with his back to the hearth. Spits of rain were hissing on the logs behind him.

Justin climbed to his feet. ‘Come and get warm.’

‘I’ve been telling Justin a little about the background to your case, Abi,’ Ben said. He glanced at the window as a squall threw leaves against it from the lawn.

‘My case?’ Abi took Justin’s chair. She shivered.

‘Your situation would be a better way of describing it,’ Justin said thoughtfully. He was standing looking down at her.

‘And am I allowed to know what your exact qualifications are for being wheeled in as consultant to my “situation”?’ Abi asked. She was feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. Her hair was dripping down her neck. What she wanted was a towel and a hot drink, not an instant launch into theological dispute.

‘My exact qualifications?’ Justin grinned. ‘I don’t know. What has my big brother told you about me? Both my big brothers, come to that. Mat, I can guarantee, would have had nothing good to contribute to my CV. I’d be interested to know how Ben described me.’

Ben grimaced. ‘I’m not sure that I did. Beyond saying that you were the expert on matters of an occult nature. What I do is sometimes called deliverance; maybe for you it is something similar?’

Justin moved back and sat down in the free armchair. ‘The word occult always has pejorative overtones I find. And deliverance implies that someone or something feels they need to be delivered. So, can we get our definitions straight before we start? To my mind, most Christians who think they are seeing Jesus Christ in a vision of some kind would be rejoicing and clamouring for more, not sending for the nearest druid to stop it happening.’

Abi stared at him. ‘Druid?’ she echoed blankly.

‘Ah. So you didn’t even tell her that, big brother?’ Justin looked at Ben.

Ben shrugged. ‘I hadn’t got round to it, no.’

‘So, you are a full-paid-up pagan,’ Abi said slowly.

Justin grinned. ‘Ah, now that would also be leaping to conclusions. In Christian circles pagan is a bit of an iffy term.’

‘In Cambridge where I was a curate there are a lot of pagans,’ she went on thoughtfully. ‘Some were viciously hostile to Christians, others were interested in talking, seeking for areas of mutual understanding.’

Justin inclined his head. ‘Then put me down as one of the latter.’ He sat forward on the edge of his chair. ‘I think in this case, though, it is my areas of expertise which are needed, not narrow definitions of what I may or may not believe. I am trained in various techniques, shall we call them, which are for whatever reason not often available to Christian ministers. Soul retrieval. Shamanic travelling. There are Christians who do these things. My brother is not one of them, bless his heart,’ he glanced at Ben, ‘and neither, obviously is the Reverend Scott. He and I met and had a little chat after our first encounter at Woodley, and since then I have been hearing about some more of his exploits. I gather it is his interference in your life which has caused you so much grief with his accusations that what you are experiencing is in some way evil.’

Abi smiled doubtfully. ‘I think you’ve put the case very succinctly.’ She frowned. ‘Where did you meet him?’

‘In Glastonbury. There is no need to worry. It was accidental and no blood was spilled.’ He smiled mischievously.

‘If he was rude, I’m sorry.’

‘He is not your responsibility, Abi. That much is clear.’ He paused. ‘Now, having heard my qualifications for helping you, you haven’t as yet run screaming for the door, crossing yourself in horror.’

‘No. Not yet. I’m finding my experience very positive.’

‘Good. Then we have a basis for proceeding.’ Justin turned to Ben. ‘If you could lever Janet’s ear from the far side of the door and get her to make Abi and me some coffee, then you and she can go out for the day. That will give us a chance to talk.’

Ben scowled. ‘There is no need to be offensive, Justin.’

‘No?’ Justin rose to his feet and in three strides he was across the room. He pulled open the door. Janet was outside in the hall, a duster in her hand. She looked flustered. ‘Is everything all right in there?’

‘Everything, my dear sister-in-law.’ Justin looked down at her coldly. ‘Coffee, if you please.’

‘Justin, you are being gratuitously unpleasant!’ Ben stood up too. ‘All you had to do was to ask me to leave you alone. If that is all right with Abi?’ He turned to her.

Abi looked from one brother to the other in dismay. The tension was crackling between them suddenly. ‘I think I would rather that Ben stayed,’ she said after a moment. ‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Ye gods!’ Justin looked skywards. ‘I can’t work like that. Do you want to learn or not?’

‘I don’t know what I want to learn,’ Abi retorted. ‘I don’t know what you are offering.’ She had been on the point of telling them about her dream; about the vision of the stigmata. Glad now that she hadn’t, she looked at the two men again. ‘All I want to know is how to control these visions I’m having. How to switch them on and off, and what significance my mother’s crystal rock has. Nothing else. I don’t want to learn shamanic drumming or druid rituals or whatever else it was you mentioned.’ She too stood up. She looked from one man to the other with a sudden surge of resentment. ‘In fact, I don’t want to learn anything. I am sick to death of men telling me what to believe and how to do it! First my father, then Kier and now you two. I think we’ll leave it now. I’m going.’ She made for the door.

Justin swung round. He caught her arm. ‘Wait, Abi -’

‘No!’ She wrenched her arm free. ‘No, I won’t wait. I want nothing more to do with this. It was a bad idea. I have no intention of getting involved in the Cavendish family row, whatever it may be. In fact I can see clearly what it is about. You seem to enjoy making a mockery of as many people as possible, Justin. Well, count me out. I’m going back to Woodley.’

She didn’t wait to see what they did. Grabbing her coat from the hall stand she opened the front door and stormed out into the rain.

The abbey car park was almost empty. Turning in, Abi parked and sat still. She was still shaking from head to foot with fury. She wasn’t sure why she had come straight here. Perhaps because she hadn’t wanted to go to Woodley and have to explain her sudden return to Cal; she hadn’t wanted to go to Athena’s either. There was nowhere else she could go. She sat back miserably and closed her eyes.

When at last she had calmed down she climbed out and headed in towards the ruins. The Lady Chapel was empty. Rain splattered down on the stone and dripped from the ancient walls all around her. She stood there shivering, staring up at the broken arches of the windows with their drooping adornment of late valerian. Jesus was here. He had to be. He was everywhere. So why couldn’t she feel him? Suddenly there were tears in her eyes.