By N. Upson
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Additional info for Angel with Two Faces
He didn’t often drink, and the liquid burnt a harsh, sour path to the pit of his stomach, but he needed something to dull the memory of the service and the humiliation of standing in front of his own congregation without a single word of comfort to offer them. He had only been in the pulpit for a few minutes, but it had been long enough to remind him of how things used to be and he doubted that the confidence he had worked so hard to find would be quick to return. His shyness had dogged him for years, clouding most of his childhood with a horror of being noticed that amounted almost to a phobia.
The girl’s laughter was unsettling in such close proximity to death, and the mourners – embarrassed and unsure of how to react – looked at each other across the aisle or smiled awkwardly at Morwenna. The tension that had begun with Nathaniel’s eulogy was infectious, and everyone seemed thankful to follow the coffin outside, knowing that the end of the service was in sight. Small-leaved Cornish elms clustered round the churchyard, revealing flickering glimpses of the sea beyond. The funeral party followed the line of trees round to the rear of the church, where a pile of freshly dug earth marked a new burial place.
Holidays were one thing, but he hated these public occasions which required him to play a more formal part in his family’s life. Everyone was always polite and seemed genuinely pleased to see him, but no one at Loe had any use for an inspector from Scotland Yard, and he found it hard to relinquish that role – a matter of behaviour, rather than uniform. Being out of place was not something he experienced very often, and it made him irrationally annoyed that he should feel it most strongly amongst the men and women he had known since his childhood.
Angel with Two Faces by N. Upson