‘Of course,’ Agathe said. She didn’t want to be there when Father Thomas got home either. ‘I just wanted to know that you were getting on all right with Father Thomas. He’s lucky to have you. Perhaps I’ll see you in the market one day. We could drink a cup of coffee together?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Annette as she hurried to open the front door. ‘Yes, I’ll look out for you.’

As the door closed behind her and Agathe walked away, she saw Father Thomas emerging from the church. She watched as he let himself into the Clergy House, and sighed. As she had thought those months ago, Father Thomas must be an exacting man to work for. Clearly there was something the matter, but unless Annette trusted her enough to confide in her, there was nothing she could do.

Chapter 3

It was some weeks later that Annette made the fatal discovery. She had only started having an irregular monthly bleed nine months earlier and at first she had not missed it. Unaware of the symptoms, which certainly had never been discussed at the orphanage and had been unnecessary for mention at the Clergy House, Annette had no idea that she was expecting a baby until it began to show in her waistline. Father Thomas had continued to take his pleasure with her whenever he chose. She had long since ceased to fight him; indeed, she had realised that made him more brutal in his use of her. She now lay back and waited for him to stop grunting and for it all to be over. It was, she supposed, inevitable that she should have fallen pregnant at some time in her future, but in her innocence she had assumed that priests were not as other men and could not father a child.

Father Thomas had no such innocence and as Annette’s breasts grew fuller and her stomach more rounded, he realised with disgust that she must be with child; another child of shame. His immediate thought was that he must hide the fact from the parish. He certainly would disclaim paternity; indeed he did disclaim it. The woman herself had been conceived out of wedlock and so it must be in her blood to be promiscuous. Clearly, she must have been having an illicit liaison with some man, perhaps when he, Father Thomas, was out on parish business, or when she pretended to go to the market – some man of similar parentage, similar lack of morals, similarly promiscuous. Thus assuaging his own conscience, the priest absolved himself of all guilt and became convinced in this belief; the father was someone else. Whoever it was, Father Thomas realised that Annette had to go. No shadow of suspicion must fall upon him, and certainly, as the parish priest, he could not employ a woman carrying a bastard child as his housekeeper.

Having made this decision he acted upon it at once. That evening, when she was clearing away the supper, he cornered Annette in the kitchen, barring her way to the door. ‘You are with child,’ he stated coldly. ‘You are carrying a bastard… spawn of the devil!’