I was shaken out of my dark reverie by the sound of the alarm on Sally's phone. She reached out and picked it up, silencing the alarm.
"Dad said you didn't mind coming to church," she said.
I managed a smile, while groaning mentally. I consoled myself with the fact that the sharp-tongued old ladies might have something to say worth hearing.
"Do you want a shower now, or after breakfast?" Sally continued.
"After breakfast is fine," I said. "You go ahead."
She went through to the bathroom, and I heard her singing softly to herself as the water splashed.
"I'm going down," I called. "If Tim's not up yet I'll make the coffee."
"OK," she called.
I went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and glanced up to see Tim coming down.
"Morning," he said. "Looks like it's going to be a nice day. Maybe we can go for a walk after lunch."
I nodded, feeling more cheerful. After all, church was only an hour or two, then the day was our own again.
I made the coffee, pouring a mug for Sally, and after a few more minutes she appeared in jeans and t-shirt, her hair still wet. "Morning, Dad."
She sat down at the table, and Tim grinned. "Got you a treat." He took a bag from the counter and passed it to Sally. She opened the top, and looked up at him, smiling. "Danish pastry – I love these."
She slid the pastries out onto a plate, and offered it to me. "You choose first, Amy."
I saw the image in her mind of her favourite – a cinnamon whirl – and despite my intentions, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her. I took the apple pastry, and Sally grinned. "Looks like you get pecan and maple again, Dad."
Tim nodded, transferring the pastry to his plate. Sally took hers, and bit into it, her eyes closed. "Mm."
I quickly finished my pastry, and said, "Well, looks like I'll be the last one ready."
"Don't worry," said Tim. "The service never quite starts on time anyway."
I went upstairs, and decided to try the shower – my hair would have to be wet anyway to convince Sally and Tim. I made the mental gesture that disappeared my t-shirt, and got into the cubicle, turning on the water.
I stood under the spray, enjoying the feeling of the water on my skin despite myself. I picked up a bottle of shampoo, and squeezed a little onto my hand. The scent was of apples, and I rubbed it through my hair, then rinsed out the foam.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly drying with a towel from the rail. Then I went back through to the bedroom and stood in front of the mirror.
I chose jeans and t-shirt for today's outfit, like Sally's but just a little tighter in one or two places. I turned, and grinned at my reflection, satisfied with the effect.
Sally and Tim were in the hall when I got downstairs. "Time we were off," said Tim.
Again we walked the short distance to the church, and the vicar greeted Sally enthusiastically. "Good to see you again," he said. "We miss you in the young people's group."
We went in and found seats, and I listened in on the various conversations. To my disappointment I didn't hear anything especially negative, though I caught a flash of interest in me from a quiet-looking man who sat at the back.
The organ started to play, and we stood for the first hymn. This time I took care to moderate my singing, and I listened to Sally's clear, innocent voice as she put her all into the ancient words.
We sat down at the end of the hymn, and a white-haired man approached the lectern.
He began to read. "And the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their proper dwelling—these he has kept in darkness..."
I felt a sudden urge to be elsewhere, anywhere but sitting in the hard pew of this sacred place, listening to a mere human discussing my fate. I whispered to Sally, "Sorry – I really need to get out."
She shifted to let me pass, her face showing concern. "Are you OK?"
I gulped, only half-feigning nausea. "I'll be fine."
I stumbled out into the daylight, and found a bench by the graveyard. I heard steps behind me, and Sally sat next to me. She waited patiently, not speaking.
I felt something surge inside me, something irresistible, and I heard myself speaking, as though someone else was using my voice.
"Sally, I..."
She took my hand. "It's OK. You don't need to tell me. Something like this happened to me, about the third or fourth time I came here."
She paused. "I wasn't even listening to the sermon, and I just felt like there was a weight pressing on me, too heavy to carry. I found my way out here, and suddenly I knew I had to change, to let go..."
I couldn't stay silent any more. "Sally," I said, the words forcing themselves from me, "you don't understand. I'm not what you think I am."
She smiled, shaking her head. "I know I've not seen much, not done much. But it doesn't matter, there's nothing you could do that would make..."
I shook my head. "I can't change what I am. And even if I could, there's my job to consider. My employers... Well, let's say you don't just walk away from them."
Sally looked up. "Amy... You don't really work for a government agency, do you?"
"No."
She reached for my hand. "There must be something we can do. You could go and stay with my aunt, she lives in an out-of-the-way place nobody's ever heard of."
I avoided her eyes. "Trust me, they're insanely good at finding things – and they never give up."
"What about the authorities? You must have... information, something they can use. They'd be able to protect you."
I was about to reply, when people started to spill from the church door, the service over.
Tim found us. "Are you OK, Amy?"
Sally glanced at him. "Dad, can we go out somewhere for lunch? We need to talk."
Tim nodded. "Sure."
We walked back to the house in silence, and Tim unlocked the car. Sally and I got into the back seat, and Tim started the engine.
"I know where we can go," he said. He set off out of town, turning off onto a narrow road leading up to the rocky edge overlooking the valley.
Tim concentrated on driving, slowing to avoid the sheep that strayed or lay sprawled onto the edge of the tarmac. We reached the top, and Tim continued on, the road dipping down again and winding into a steep, thickly-wooded valley.
Just before the road flattened out, Tim pulled into the car park beside a stone-built pub with an eagle on its sign.
"The food here is great," said Tim, "and it's out of the way, I thought that would suit us."
We got out of the car and went in, finding a table. "I can't promise cocktails," said Tim, "but what can I get you two to drink?"
"Just a shandy for me," said Sally.
"Amy?"
"Sure, the same," I said.
Tim went to the bar and Sally again took my hand. "You know you can trust Dad."
I nodded, reflecting on this strange human trait of placing trust in fallible people.
Tim returned with a tray. "Right, girls, two shandies."
