A Finer End

circulating about Winnie’s ‘dabbling in the paranormal’, and this Winnie suspected had been instigated by Andrew.
    Andrew had apologized to her after their row, and she’d made every effort to smooth things over, but there remained a wedge of discomfort between them that she feared might never be healed. His criticism had hurt her deeply, and she was finding forgiveness difficult. ‘Practise what you preach, Winnie,’ she whispered as she reached the kitchen.
    Switching on the light over the table, she opened the fridge and filled a mug with milk, then popped it in the microwave.
    Jack could teach her a thing or two about forgiveness, she thought as she retrieved her drink and breathed in the sweet, comforting smell of scalded milk. Once she’d finally worked up the nerve that evening over dinner to tell Jack about her past relationship with Simon Fitzstephen, he had merely said gently, ‘I never believed you were a saint, Winnie. I hate to think you’ve been worrying over this for months.’
    ‘You don’t mind?’
    ‘The thought of you with another man does give me a twinge,’ he admitted. ‘But it was a long time ago, and I don’t see how it affects us now.’
    ‘I haven’t told you why I broke it off.’ Winnie hesitated, piecing together a story that she’d kept to herself for more than a decade. ‘There was another student, Ray, a protégé of Simon’s. He was killed in a car accident.’
    ‘You were friends?’
    ‘Yes. He’d have made a good priest — a very compassionate man, with a real gift for pastoral care. But he was a scholar as well, and he worshipped Simon. If Ray had lived, I think he’d have outgrown it in time, but he wasn’t given the chance.’
    Frowning, Jack said, ‘Tragic, but I don’t see how this reflects on Simon.’
    ‘Ray was working on a research project under Simon’s tutelage, an exploration of an obscure thirteenth-century Grail legend. When Ray was killed, Simon published the paper as his own.’
    ‘But surely there was some mistake—’
    ‘No mistake. A few months after Ray’s death, his family asked me to sort through his things. I found the original. When I confronted Simon, he said the work was his, that Ray had merely been transcribing it for him.’
    ‘Of course, that would be it,’ Jack said with evident relief.
    ‘But Ray left notes, extensive ones. There was absolutely no doubt that he had done the research and written the paper.’
    Digesting this, Jack asked, ‘Did you tell anyone?’ Winnie felt herself flushing. ‘No. Simon said he’d make a fool of me to the bishop, that he’d say I was acting out of spite because he’d rejected me, and that he’d make sure I never got a good living. He had the influence to do it too. So I convinced myself that it was a minor academic point, nothing that really mattered to anyone — and I’ve hated myself for it ever since.’
    Jack covered her hand with his. ‘You were young, inexperienced—’
    She shook her head. ‘There’s no excuse for what I did. I know that. But I also know that you can’t trust Simon Fitzstephen. He would betray you in an instant if it was to his advantage.’
    ‘But there’s nothing to betray,’ protested Jack. ‘What could Simon possibly have to gain by helping me?’
    ‘I don’t know. But promise me you’ll be careful.’ She had had to be content with that. Jack had insisted on giving Simon the benefit of the doubt, and she realized she wouldn’t choose to change that about him — it was one of the reasons she loved him.
    If only her brother was as generous, Winnie thought, finding herself back at the problem that had initially kept her from falling asleep. She could see no way to mollify Andrew other than to give up seeing Jack, which she was not willing to do, or to convince Jack to give up his communication with Edmund, which he was not willing to do — even if it were possible. This rift in her relationship with her brother nagged her like a toothache.
    Sipping her milk, she thought of Faith Wills, and Andrew’s criticism of her intercession in Faith’s affairs. Andrew had been vindicated, in a sense, as things had certainly not turned out as Winnie had hoped, but she still felt strongly that she had done the right thing. Faith had agreed to see her mother, had even set a time to meet at the Vicarage, then had abruptly changed her mind. Winnie had not been able to budge the girl from her decision, and Faith had offered no excuse. The closer