She was in the company of a good-looking young man with an expensive camera around his neck, talking so animatedly to him that she didn’t notice Adam looming in her path.
‘Oh! Vicar!’ she exclaimed. ‘You might want to help us with this.’
‘With?’
‘This is Trevelyan. He’s an investigative journalist. He’s come up from London to try and get a story on the pornographers in my ancestral home. We’re going to make it into a big story, national exposure, maybe get it into one of the high circulation magazines like Tea Time or Isn’t It Crazy?’
‘So you’re going to – interview them?’
‘No, no, we’re going through the hedge to get a few decent shots. Or rather, indecent shots.’ Julia’s laugh was like a polite bray.
‘You’re going to trespass?’
‘Yes, like you did. Remember?’ She wasn’t laughing now. She looked furiously determined.
‘Do you think they’ll be filming after last night’s extravaganza? I imagine they might take a break.’
Julia’s eyes narrowed.
‘Good point. Let’s change plans. Trevelyan, why don’t you go and doorstep them – try to get a couple of quotes. We’ll do the photographs when Miss Evie Witts has recovered from the maypole.’
‘Recovered from the maypole?’ Trevelyan looked intrigued.
‘Never mind,’ said Julia hastily. ‘Go to the manor and try to get an interview with the filth-mongers. I’ll be waiting for you in the Fleece. There’s unlimited dr
inks for you if you get them to say something scandalous.’
‘Unlimited? Right.’ Trevelyan sauntered off towards the manor house leaving Adam and Julia behind.
‘Tell me about Saxonhurst ways,’ said Adam, watching the young man’s behind disappear along the distant driveway.
‘You’re finding them out for yourself, aren’t you? None of the other vicars ever stopped to watch the maypole. Some of them tried to stop it. But you just stood there gawping like a child in a sweetshop.’
‘It’s some kind of tribute to pagan gods of fertility?’
‘In essence. Throughout the hard times, the droughts, the poor harvests, Saxonhurst has always continued to produce abundantly. Perhaps it’s nothing to do with the rituals, but would you risk finding out now, after all these years?’
‘Why must all this fall on to Evie’s shoulders?’
Julia hee-hawed again. ‘Does she look as if she minds?’
‘I mind,’ said Adam vehemently. ‘And so should we all.’
‘God, it’s so tedious. She only has to look at a man … Anyway, I’m getting the drinks in at the Fleece. Are you coming?’
‘No. No, I have – a sermon to write.’
‘Keep telling yourself that,’ said Julia with derision, striding away up the village street.
Chapter Seven
EVIE SHOWED UP at Adam’s door in a pair of the tiniest cut-off shorts imaginable and a bikini top. She had a jewelled ring in her navel and ribbon-tied espadrilles on her feet.
‘Evening, vicar. So, what am I in for tonight? Revelations?’
She sashayed in, moving straight past him so he had to follow her. The abbreviated shorts showed the lower portion of her bottom, on which the fading marks from the willow thrashing she had received the night before were still highly visible.
Adam swallowed, trying his hardest not to look, but her hips swayed and she pushed her bum out as if inviting his eyes.