“Can I say again how sorry myself and Ryan are,” once again Sophie felt mortified by remembrance of it all, “we have no idea how the press got hold of those pictures.”
“It's all in the past,” the vicar soothed, taking a furtive sip of the light brown liquid, “but obviously if it happens again, we will have to take action Sophie.”
* * *
“Probably one of his own parishioners,” drawled Yvonne, after a worried Sophie had confided in her, “maybe if he behaved with more decorum, he wouldn't have to worry about sneaky photographers.”
“Hush Mom,” Sophie warned, “he has a right to a life like everyone.”
“Not when he spends it preaching missy,”
Sophie paused at her mother's words. Tarquin Haverstock, the English course leader, had addressed her as missy. A smile curled her lips as she thought
