Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

before I forget. You will keep the vicarage nice and cosy for him, won’t you? It’s quite cold in this kitchen.’
    ‘It is winter,’ Sidney observed, ‘and I was not expecting a dog.’
    Mrs Redmond failed to detect a tone that hovered between despair and irritation. ‘Of course you’ll have to keep him in a limited space until he’s fully house-trained. He’ll need a blanket too. I’ve brought some food to start you off and I think I have got some old toys as well. They might do when I look in later in the week to see how you are getting on . . .’
    Sidney sat down on a kitchen chair as Mrs Redmond busied herself around him and then fetched the dog’s basket from her car. ‘It will be like having a child . . .’ he muttered. ‘And without a wife . . .’
    Mrs Redmond re-entered the room. ‘I am sure you won’t have any trouble finding a wife, Canon Chambers . . .’
    It now appeared that his visitor had selective hearing. ‘People do keep telling me . . .’
    ‘A handsome man like you . . .’
    ‘Do you think so?’
    ‘Of course. Everyone says so. You’d be quite a catch.’
    Sidney allowed himself a moment of vanity. He knew that on a good day he had a faint air of Kenneth More about him but he didn’t like to dwell on it.
    Mrs Redmond put down the dog basket and looked at him. She had sensed his weak spot. ‘I am sure Miss Kendall might consider it.’
    ‘I don’t think that’s likely . . .’
    ‘Oh dear. Never mind.’ Mrs Redmond resumed her preparations. ‘Still, once you get to know Archie I am sure you can tell him your problems instead of Miss Kendall. Then no one else need know . . .’
    ‘I’m not sure my problems are worth discussing.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter, Canon Chambers. Archie won’t mind. You can tell him anything. Anything at all . . .’
    ‘I suppose I can.’
    Mrs Redmond began rubbing her hands together, a nervous gesture that indicated her duty was done. ‘I’d better be going now. If you have any problems with him or need any advice just pop round, but I am sure that Archie is going to make a vast improvement to your life.’
    ‘He’s certainly going to change it,’ Sidney mused. ‘I’ll see you to the door, Mrs Redmond.’
    ‘Don’t you worry about that, Canon Chambers. I’ll let myself out.’
    Sidney looked down at Archie. He would have to try and pick him up, he decided, but as soon as he made his first attempt the dog proved resistant and gave a small yelp. Indeed, it was a frustrating while before Sidney was able to scoop him up in his arms.
    Honestly.
    What was he doing?
    How could anyone think that such a pet might be suitable?
    It was absurd and it quite put him off Amanda. What can he have been thinking when he told her everything? How could she ever have conceived that he might want a dog? What on earth did they have in common? He should leave Grantchester whenever he could, Sidney thought, and find the most remote parish where little happened apart from the need to maintain faith. He thought of Cornwall, West Wales, the Northumbrian border with Scotland: anywhere with a low crime rate and parishioners who were keen to come to church rather than murder each other.
    Archie jumped on to his lap. His honey-brown eyes had an expression of helpless trust. This was a creature who was asking to be looked after, whose affection was unconditional, and who would always be pleased to see him. This, surely, would be a more rewarding responsibility, a healing presence amidst the death of the old. Yes, perhaps all might be well after all and Amanda had been right and this would be . . .
    Ah.
    Perhaps not.
    Mrs Maguire was coming through the front door with her shopping bags and Sidney’s shepherd’s pie.
    ‘It’s only me,’ she called.
    At first Mrs Maguire did not notice the new arrival, walking into the kitchen, putting her things on the table, speaking all the while and telling Sidney that he would have to leave so that she could get on with her work. ‘What is the Church Times doing on the floor?’ she demanded. ‘Are you throwing it away? The wastepaper basket is under your desk.’
    ‘It is there for a reason, Mrs Maguire.’
    ‘I can’t think what that could be.’ She noticed the basket. ‘And what, in God’s good name, is that?’
    ‘I think I can . . .’ At that moment Sidney’s new puppy scampered up to Mrs Maguire and gave her right ankle a playful nip.
    ‘Heavens to Betsy!’ Mrs Maguire cried out. ‘An