The path started behind the church graveyard and wound around boulders and trees as it snaked up the hill. It would be perilous enough in full light but in the dark Barbara thought it was dangerous, especially for the small children who darted in and around her legs. Before they started to ascend Tommy had taken her hand and very deliberately interlaced their fingers. His hand was large and comforting and despite being unsure of her footing, Barbara felt safe.
Tommy carried a traditional hessian torch that had been lit from a small bonfire in the churchyard. The wooden handle was rough-hewn and with the heat of the flame Barbara could smell the warm sap evaporating in a smoky mix of pine and melted wax. He held it in front of them and the light pooled at her feet just sufficiently for her to take one step at a time with confidence. All the men and some of the women carried torches, a hundred of which, Tommy told her, were made each year by the women's auxiliary of the church. She suspected that none were wasted as she surveyed the procession of flaming lights that bobbed up and down in their own private rhythms as the parishioners walked in silent reflection up the hill.
As they drove to Nanrunnel Tommy had described the view from the hill at sunrise. The hill had been sacred to generations of pagan and Christian worshippers and the way he portrayed it led Barbara to picture Celtic tribes in flowing white gowns carrying long staves adorned with deer antlers gathered in a circle on the hill and chanting. She had made the mistake of mentioning it and the rest of the journey had been a lesson in Druidism and the use of pagan rituals as a way of converting early Christians which, to her surprise, she had found very interesting.
When she first saw the silhouette of the hill Barbara had wondered why they could not build a car park a bit closer to the top but looking at the faces now she understood that the climb was an important part of the ritual. To some extent she felt a hypocrite, or at least a fraud, but for the Lynleys today was more about being a part of the community that had built up within their estate than a religious experience and she could tell playing their part in proceedings was an important tradition.
She and Tommy had argued last night about his idea. She had accused him of a game of one- upmanship to upset his mother and had initially refused to play along. He had denied it and it had taken half an hour of explanation before she understood and believed his motives. Even so it was only after he had spoken privately to his mother this morning that she understood the significance to the family. His mother had embraced her heartily and with tears in her eyes thanked her for the positive influence she was having on him. The undercurrents of lost trust ran deep between mother and son and Barbara knew both of them viewed her relationship with him as a way of healing some of their past.
Walking with a group of people who were all contemplating their lives gave Barbara a chance to pause and consider her own. So much had changed so quickly that she had not had time to sort through her own thoughts and reactions. Being loved by Tommy was liberating. He had proved to be an enthusiastic and attentive lover and she could at last express emotions and desires she had repressed for years but this last week felt as if they had compressed six months of normal relationships into six days. Theirs had never been a conventional bond and she wondered why she worried that everything had moved so rapidly. She had seen him act like that many times; he built up to a conclusion slowly but once he was sure everything happened quickly. Even so yesterday's discussion had been unexpected and she hoped nature would give her the breathing space they needed to adjust to the thought of parenthood, although she could not deny that she had been very moved by his words and intention.
The trail became steeper near the top and Tommy helped her scramble around the waist high boulders that separated the slope from a large flattish rock shelf. The shadowy shapes of feathery conifers swayed in the torchlight, misshapen and straggly where they fought for a foothold on life in the humus that accumulated in the crags. A bonfire had been prepared and the worshippers settled themselves around or on the rocks that sheltered the clearing from the brisk breeze. As they waited for the priest to light it Barbara could see Daze and George on the other side of the clearing near Matthew and Judith but Tommy made no attempt to join them, instead waiting near the edge of the path.
The minister was a tall, thin man in his late fifties whose white and gold vestments and combed-over hair swirled around him as he walked with purpose towards the bonfire. He had led the procession up the hill and now paused for everyone to find a comfortable spot to rest. The only sounds were the rustling of clothes against rocks and the laboured breathing of people not used to just a strenuous climb. The minister held his torch high. "In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was without form, and void. Darkness was upon the face of the deep and the Spirit of God moved upon face of the waters," he intoned with a deep baritone voice that seemed at odds with his slight frame. "And God said 'Let there be light', and there was light." He touched his torch to the dry wood and with a crackling hiss the timber and straw caught and spread slowly around the bonfire illuminating the area in a diffuse orange glow.
Tommy was no longer holding her hand but instead had his arm around her shoulder. It was a very open display of affection and although she leant slightly towards him she was wary of looking too friendly in case the villagers expected their Earl to be more formal and restrained. As the congregation listened and responded to prayers she knew he was observing the faces of the Nanrunnel locals just as she was doing. He of course would know them; where they lived, who they were married to and who their parents had been. There was a sense of community that she could feel amongst these people that she had never had in Acton. Sure, she had known her neighbour's names but here she was certain people not only knew the details of each other's lives but genuinely cared about each other. It was an aspect of life that was hard to find in the tumult of a metropolis. Families were gathered closely together and everyone seemed to be openly connected to others in a way that she had not seen at any churches she had been to before. She slipped her arm around Tommy under his coat and was rewarded with a loving squeeze on her shoulder.
This service was different to the traditional services she had attended as a child and she was beginning to understand the Easter storytelling tradition that Tommy had mentioned. A local farmer's son recounted the story of how he had fled from a burning barn last summer and a fisherman shared his tale of escaping from his sinking boat and swimming a mile back to shore last month. These personal stories added a humanity that seemed to bond the community with the Easter message of salvation. As the shadows faded from black to grey Tommy stepped forward and, as agreed with his mother, read the key passage about the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. He paced his reading in time with the dawn and finished just as the sun started to peek over the rocks. The minister lit a taper as a symbol of the Easter Light and then the congregation turned to watch the sunrise. As the sun's rays strengthened over the water a golden streak of light traced a sparkling path from the sun to the shore and the high clouds were tinged with shifting patterns of gold and grey and blue. The distant cliffs reflected the light across the breaking waves making their spray appear iridescent. Barbara inhaled sharply. Tommy had been right, dawn was beautiful up here.
The congregation broke into song and clapped and cheered the sun. Barbara understood what Tommy had been saying about the merging of ancient and modern worship. A folk band began to play 'With Joy the Morn is Waking' with a unique Celtic lilt from the fiddle and horn-pipe. She did not consider herself religious but she was moved by the experience and the feeling of the crowd. The minister made blessings and Lady Asherton read a prayer and the service seemed to end with a lot of noise.
Barbara was watching the sun over the water when Tommy came up and put his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Beautiful isn't it?"
"Yes, I had no idea."
"Hungry?"
"Always," she said enthusiastically surprised that at the mere mention of breakfast she could conjure up the smell of bacon and eggs.
"After you," he said. When she turned she was surprised that everyone was cooking and eating. The morning had the feel of a county fair. The band was still playing and everyone was talking or laughing. Tommy introduced her to several of the villagers, too many for her to ever remember their names. She had been right though; he knew them and their families and asked all the right questions. She noticed Judith and Daze mingling in a similar way. She had somehow imagined his life on the estate to be more formal and staid; part of the community yet apart from it. Today she was beginning to see that the family she was marrying into was very much involved in the life of Nanrunnel and the surrounding areas.
"They like you," he whispered as they walked down the track, "even old Mrs Greene thought you were 'a breath of fresh air'. For her that's very high praise indeed."
"They're nice people."
"So you'll do it?"
"Yes, but I hope I don't make a fool or either of us."
"You won't."
Tommy stole a quick kiss then held her hand as they walked down the path towards the church which was nestled against the shoreline of a little bay. In the light Barbara could see over the clock tower to the little yachts anchored in the tidal creek that meandered around the base of the hill. The churchyard was alive with flowering camellias draped over some of the lichen-covered gravestones that were dotted amongst the lush shrubbery. The graves were all around the church set almost haphazardly amongst the rhododendrons and high grass. She knew of course the spaces were not empty but simply left unmarked by families who had not had the money to commemorate their loved ones. It was sad that now so many of those people had been lost to memory.
As they walked through the graveyard Tommy paused. "Do you want to meet the family?" he asked. Barbara understood and nodded. The Lynley family plot was something they had discussed when visiting her brother's grave. It had only been a month ago but it seemed so much longer. They were near the north Lych gate at the base of the hill, fenced off on ground several feet higher than the rest of the churchyard. She had expected a family tomb but instead there were two groups of graves. The first was a neat row of altar tombs with a second more recent row of ornate but tasteful headstones. Set further away were other graves, all marked with headstones of varying types and sizes. The altar tombs were strikingly similar with the family crest carved into the footstone and symmetrical hatching of crossed swords on the sides. "This lot are all the earls and their wives," he explained giving her a brief rundown on each of them and their lives. "That is where we will be expected to end up," he said solemnly pointing to a spot at the end of the row, "although if you prefer to be with your family in London we will ensure that happens."
It was such a matter-of-fact discussion that Barbara was not sure what to say. "I don't know, I hadn't thought about that."
"No hurry I hope," he replied clearly discomfited by talking about it, "and over here are the extended family; a tale of vagabonds and miscreants to be sure." Barbara could tell he was trying to be a little too jolly then she noticed a very recent headstone on a tiny grave and saw Tommy's reaction to it. His son! She let him lead, not pressing him to move closer or move away. He paused but then turned and headed for the church clutching her hand more firmly.
The bells rang out for eight o'clock and Barbara stopped to admire the church. The treble bell sounded slightly off key with the deeper tenor bell. Although it looked like many other parish churches the grey moor-stone building had a quaintness that came from its little idiosyncrasies and imperfections. There was a rib missing in the window of its embattled square tower which was buttressed at the angles but still had a slight lean to the sea. Dark mossy stains from years of damp decorated the arch of the door and the bronze clock on the octagonal turret was three minutes slow. Tommy leant his weight against the heavy timbered double doors which opened slowly, scraping against the flagstones. "I keep meaning to get these re-hung," he said, "Reverend Thorne never complains, I think he believes it adds character."
Barbara followed him inside. It was lighter and airier than she had expected with whitewashed walls and a high hammerbeam roof decorated with crests on the pointing. The nave was supported by seven obtuse white granite arches and pillars that divided the congregation and led to an altar dressed in white and gold that sat beneath a beautiful stained window set into a gothic arch. The rising sun was behind it and the colours streamed into the church and glinted off the large gold cross. The side windows were recessed into the thick walls and as she wandered along she read the dedications. Most were paid for by the Lynleys but honoured local characters. Barbara was beginning to understand this family much better; they were not the elitist landlords she had once envisaged but respected and were committed to their community. About half way down the wall was a large fluted organ with pipes of verdigris green. Beside it was a reverent white marble memorial to those who served in the wars. The Union Jack to its left and a Royal Ensign on the right told a story even before Barbara looked at the engraved names. Many were marked R.N. with little gold crosses and '1916'.
"A lot of the boys joined the Royal Navy rather than the army," Tommy said, "quite a few died at Jutland; my great-great uncle among them."
"So many boys from such a small village," Barbara replied.
"A lot of them were from the estate. Most of them were fishermen or farm boys off for a great adventure."
"It's a beautiful church Tommy."
"Yes, it is. I haven't stopped to really look at it in years."
"Tommy?" she asked as a prelude to another question.
"Yes?"
"Can I change my mind?"
He looked disappointed. "About today?"
"No, about where we're married," she answered shyly, "I'd like to be married here instead, unless you don't fancy it."
Tommy smiled then kissed her. "I think that would be perfect."
I know I will get asked – the church is based on St Just at Roseland, Cornwall but for those who know it I have taken some poetic licence by relocating the hills loosely based on Alex Tor.