The Haunting of Briarwych Church by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2018-10-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Six weeks later

“But what I truly hope you will take from today's service,” I continue, despite the increasing dryness of my mouth, “is the sheer joy of worship. For it is this joy that represents God's gift to us, and which lights our way no matter how dark the night.”

I pause for a moment, staring down at those final words, and then I look out across the congregation.

Mr. Hopkins clears his throat.

Miss Frazer stares at me with a friendly, perhaps slightly sympathetic smile.

Lizzy sits eagerly, as if she has listened to – and absorbed – every word.

And that is the extent of it, since these three are the only people who came this week. I am accustomed to low turnouts here in Briarwych, and indeed I have still not managed to attract more than eight people in any one week, but three is a particular disappointment, although I force a smile in an attempt to hide this disappointment. I had hoped that I might be building some momentum, yet evidently that is not the case.

“Thank you once again for coming,” I say, “and I do hope to see you all again next Sunday. Perhaps with some friends and family members along. Feel free to invite anyone you can think of. We have, as you can see, plenty of free seats.”

An awkward silence ensures for a few seconds, but Mr. Hopkins finally gets to his feet. This seems to be the signal for which Miss Frazer was waiting, for she swiftly gets to her feet and follows him toward the door, as I make my way down from the pulpit and walk over to the altar. There, I stop for a moment to fold my sermon away, while trying to get my head around the fact that I continue to attract so few people to the church.

“You mustn't lose hope,” Lizzy says, and I turn to see her coming over to join me. “Your sermons are wonderful, Father Loveford. It's just going to take time, that's all.”

“Indeed,” I reply, once again forcing a smile.

“You're worried,” she continues. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Of course I'm not worried,” I tell her, although I know that she sees through the lie. “Although it is natural for one to wonder whether one is performing at one's best, when one seems to attract so little interest.”

I pause for a moment, feeling most uncomfortable.

“I should go to my desk,” I add finally, turning to walk away. “Tomorrow is my trip to London, and first I must contemplate matters.”

“Don't.”

I turn to her.

“Don't what?”

“Don't start to doubt yourself,” she continues, hurrying around as if to block my way. “Please, Father Loveford, you must recognize that the problem is not you. The problem is this place. You're doing far better than anybody else would manage in this position, and you must simply give it time.”

“That's very kind of you to say,” I reply, stepping past her, “but I am not -”

“Don't give up,” she adds, suddenly putting a hand on my arm to stop me.

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