The Sins of the Fathers

Chapter Thirty

The Winstanley Residence

Meadvale

Surrey

Nothing much ever surprised Caitlin Winstanley anymore. She just existed, living in the moment, finding happiness wherever she could and always accepting whatever else came her way as no more or less than the will of God, for her sins. She had to admit that she was quite pleased when her husband of thirty-four long years disappeared from her life, but as she had been on her knees mourning his absence for ten hours a day ever since, it had proved to be a mixed blessing. Ralph was not dead, of course. But he was never coming back, according to his father at least, and the beatific archbishop would most certainly know where his only son was, as he was the one forcing her to pray for his soul, in God's love. So, when her morning devotions were interrupted far too early for lunch, she felt quite pleased again, but as one of the keepers walked her blind through the massive house, she realised that the reason for the disruption to her routine might not be a very good one for her. But she just walked, because no one would give her any other choice, feeling the hand on her elbow guiding her, until she felt a squeeze, almost a pinch, the signal to stop, as her equipment was all activated at once and she automatically fell into a deep obeisance as she saw who had summoned her.

"Silly old fool...why on earth is she in black velvet? What is she in mourning for?" Drew Symonds laughed as his daughter straightened up, shaking his head at Michael Winstanley in disbelief. Both men were sitting in electric wheelchairs, Caitlin noticed, which was normal for her father-in-law, but new for her esteemed father as far as she was aware. She hoped that he was really ill for a moment or two, but that was the sort of prayer that never seemed to be answered in her rather bitter experience. She was beginning to think that they would both live forever.

"She does what I want her to do, like any other woman I am responsible for." Winstanley growled, looking her up and down with his usual disdain, but she had her head bowed and could not see. "Although my grandson wants to take responsibility for her...and she is of no use to you, is she? Past breeding age...if the boy wants her, he can have her, as far as I am concerned?"

"Would you like to live with your son, Caitlin?" Symonds asked as Winstanley coughed after the effort of talking.

"More than anything, Papa?"

"She would be of more use in the Order, though?" Winstanley spluttered, reaching for his water on the table beside his chair. "Widows just clutter up the house..."

"Yes...that did occur to me, I must admit...she is still only fifty-six...they could get a good twenty-five years out of her and it would be better to put her to good use...but it would cause a tedious rumpus and we probably don't need to be seen as extremists...just now?" Symonds suggested, also inspecting his daughter, as always seeing something of her mother in her. He had loved Darcy Fletcher in his own way. He had even considered marrying her once, but she would not even think about leaving her husband or joining the church, so it was never to be. Caitlin had her eyes, he thought, before returning his full attention to the matter in hand with a sigh, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking the screen, all ready to go in an instant. "Although we could make her say it was her choice, of course?"

"Please, Papa...I love my children?" She said, well aware that she was speaking out of turn and would suffer for her impertinence. But she knew it might be her last chance. She did not care what happened next, she had to speak up, she had to try. "I beg you...please...don't do this to me?"

"What would it take to make you beg for the convent life, my dear?" He asked as she felt the first hint of pain spreading across her backside.

"I would beg to live with my son, Papa." She said defiantly, trying to be brave, knowing what was coming.