Whorehouse Chapel

Alan left after a couple of hours. I went to my car to get a screwdriver. I decided I was going to remove the four pictures now before anyone else came into the building.

The screws had been painted over so it took me longer than I had expected to remove the pictures. It was getting dark and the electricity had been switched off years ago. I began to feel that I wasn't alone. There seemed to be a distant sound of singing, happy singing not religious chanting. I also seemed to feel a benign presence watching over me, but I didn't want to stay any longer. I took the four pictures to my car and locked the building.

I didn't return until the following week. Alan had obtained verbal agreement from the planners to remove the internal partitioning in the chapel. He had suggested that I should tour the chapel with Mike, because Alan was busy with another client. I met Mike Fleming at the door.

"I'm not sure about this job, Geoff," Mike said as we went inside. "Some of my workers won't want to come here again. They are years older now, and they felt hands caressing their privates every time they were alone."

"I haven't noticed anything like that, Mike."

"Perhaps you haven't been here on your own for long enough, Geoff. We were here for weeks."

"I thought it was your work, Mike."

"It was. I didn't want to do it but at the time we didn't have much else on, so the money was useful. The groping hands were unexpected. The three single men didn't mind, then. Now they are married. You know who to."

Mike pointed to the marks on the wall where the photographs had been.

"All three of them?"

"Yes, and they are very happily married." Anja married my son Pete; Divna married my nephew James; and Sanja married Nick, another of my nephews.

"I took the photos down. I didn't want to evoke any unpleasant memories."

"I think the women have put this place long behind them, but you're right. It could have been embarrassing to remind my blokes. Let's go to the chapel. That's what you want emptied."

Mike pointed out the way the partitions were fixed. They hadn't attached anything to the floor or walls.

"I could have used lightweight partitioning, like office cubicles, but they wanted solid block work and locking doors. Now I know why, but then? They were paying good money so who was I to argue? If I had known they were going to be prison cells? I didn't."

"So how much work to take the partitions out, Mike?"

"About a week for four of my men. That's not the problem. It is what we do with the materials. It will cost a lot to remove all that. We might be able to reuse the wood, but the blocks aren't up to modern standards. They'll have to go as hardcore. If someone wants hardcore? Three hundred pounds to deliver it. If no one wants hardcore? Eight hundred pounds to take it to a waste contractor."

"Ouch. I hope someone wants the hardcore, Mike."

"I'll ask around, Alan. I don't need any at present. I'm doing conversions, not new builds needing foundations. You might need it here if you're rebuilding, but knocking down the additions would make more than you could possibly use. They were built in the twenties."

"Twenties? You're sure? They looked like sixties to me."

"I'm sure. My grandfather built them and grumbled because the clients wanted cheap shoddy work. My father refaced some of them in the sixties because water was getting in. He grumbled too because he really wanted to rebuild properly. If you get permission to demolish? A few hefty blows and they'll fall down like a house of cards. The only thing we'd have to be careful about is to avoid damaging the original medieval buildings."

"Any idea how much was left apart from the chapel? I can't see much except a few odd pieces."

"There's a lot, Geoff. The corridor we came down was part of the cloisters. It links to the refectory and most of that is still there hidden by partitions and a lowered ceiling. You might be able to see the refectory roof with binoculars from... No. You won't. The new supermarket is in the way. Except from that blocked angle the roof is hidden by other buildings."

"OK, Alan. How much to clear the chapel? That's all we're allowed to do at present."

"I'll work it out and give you an estimate in a couple of days. I can't give you a fixed price. Apart from the uncertainty of disposing of the hardcore, I don't know how easily the partitions will come down, particularly as we'll have to be very careful with the old fabric."

Three weeks later Mike and his workers were ready to start. His estimate was reasonable for the quality of work his team produced. The hardcore was wanted but would cost me four hundred and fifty pounds to relocate.

To our surprise Tamara and the three women married to Mike's workers wanted to see the chapel before and after the partitioning was removed. I took them around with Tom. None of them had seen much beyond their cubicles and they were surprised at the total size of the buildings. They took many photographs with their mobile phones. Divna was particularly interested in one of the stained glass windows. Her cubicle had only had half of a window and she had always wanted to know what the whole window looked like.

The work started during the school holidays. Tamara and Tom elected themselves as tea-makers and unofficial site supervisors, recording the progress of the gradual revealing of the chapel's original features.

The workers found that if Tamara or another woman was present the previous manifestations didn't occur except for a faint sound of singing. If no woman was there, invisible hands might stroke or grasp their crotches. That could be disastrous if they were using tools or carrying a load. After a few days, Tamara or one of the three wives were there all the time the work was in progress.

I was surprised and delighted when the chapel was empty. Mike and his workers had seen it uncluttered by the partitioning, but originally it had been full of broken furniture. They hadn't really looked closely at the whole, because they were concentrating on the work to be done.

I asked Mike to clean the floor, walls, ceiling and roof beams. I knew they would be careful not to remove any original paint, nor damage original features. Once that clean had finished I arranged for my architect Alan and some of the Council's planning officers to visit on a private viewing day. Tom, Tamara, Mike's workers and their wives also wanted to come. I ordered a buffet lunch from local caterers.

At a local auction I had bought some old Victorian church furniture from a church being converted into flats. I had eight pews, some solid oak tables with matching chairs, many tall candle stands and other items. The pews came with embroidered hassocks. I had those cleaned and repaired by a dry cleaner.

The eight people who were closely associated with the old brothel seemed to want to be associated with the renovation. Tom and Tamara were there several times a week with Tamara's former colleagues and their husbands. They cleaned and polished the oak furniture so that it gleamed.

Divna and Sanja had carefully washed the stained glass windows inside and out. Both of them had been fascinated by the quality of the work. The external mesh was removed, repainted and replaced but the internal protection had been removed. When the sun came out the light through the windows spread colour across the whole chapel.

Mike, Alan and I were proud of what we had achieved, with the unexpected help. Tom, Tamara and the others had arranged a display of before and after photographs, together with some downloaded press reports of the people traffickers' trial. The details of the trial would be removed after the private event. The display of the information the local history group had discovered about the suppression of the monastery/nunnery would be ready in the morning of the event. I think they wanted it to be a surprise.

Nicola had arrived back from Australia a couple of days before the event. She slept most of her first day back home and met me for a coffee in the High Street. She was still tired from the journey. We would meet at the private view and I had booked a restaurant meal with her for that evening. I was pleased to have her back and surprised just how much we had missed each other. Before she went to Australia we had been drifting apart. Now Nicola was back we wanted to be together.

My idea for the private view came because I still had no real idea what to do with the chapel or the rest of the site. Each time I had bid on every other building I had bought at auction I had a solid idea of what I could do with the property. I had bought the chapel on impulse. I hadn't expected my very low bid to be accepted. Now I was short on ideas.

The chapel building was important, possibly more important than its conservation listing grade suggested. Now I could see all of it I didn't want to change it. But what could I do with a medieval chapel?

I could demolish and clear the more modern buildings leaving the cloister and refectory but I needed to make a profit. How? I hoped that all those who came to the private view would have suggestions. Any ideas the planning officers had could be valuable, giving an indication of what might be possible under the planning regulations. But they don't tend to come up with radical suggestions. Even my architect Alan has mundane ideas, good ones, sound ones, but boringly conventional.

The morning of the private view I let two members of the local history group into the chapel to erect the information boards with their details of the chapel's history. The first board was innocuous, detailing the foundation and early years of the Monastery and Nunnery. The second board had a picture of the first page of the original report of King Henry VIII's commissioners, in their original Latin, followed by a modern English summary. It would have to be in the Council's confidential papers.

The commissioners had been aware that concerns had been expressed about the activities of the nuns and monks. They decided to arrive at the time of Vespers, let themselves in quietly, and observe the service. They included a locksmith who opened a side door. The commissioners were able to watch everything. Even for hardened soldiers, they were shocked.

All the monks and nuns were naked. Apart from the stained glass windows there was no Christian symbolism anywhere in the chapel. The altar was adorned with effigies of Venus and Zeus, both copulating with various partners in a variety of poses. The Abbot was tied down to that altar. The Abbess was riding him. Another nun was pressing her private parts on his mouth.

There were four small pillars dedicated to Priapus. Each had erect penises that could be adjusted for height. One pillar had erections on all four sides. Four nuns had impaled themselves on those erections and were kissing each other.

The other four nuns were riding the four monks. Each monk had been tied to iron rings set in the floor, and gagged into silence. There were other 'devilish devices' around the chapel, most for restraining the monks so that they were available for whatever sexual service the nuns required.

The Abbot, the Abbess, the four monks and the nine nuns were arrested.

The chapel was cleaned up, an altar installed, and was reconsecrated by the Bishop of Dover. It was used as a Parish Church for five years until the whole complex was sold to a minor courtier. The chapel was deconsecrated and he demolished everything except what is now remaining and took the stone by sea up The Thames beyond London to build a new house overlooking the river.

He sold the site to a burgess from Canterbury who used the buildings for weaving until the late 18th Century when it became a store for furniture. The windows had been covered by weatherboarding outside. The chapel remained a store until the 1920s when the surrounding structures had been built as temporary offices for a department store. The chapel had remained untouched until it was converted into the brothel.

The local history society had made a folder with more details. The secret trial was a formality. They should have been tried in an Ecclesiastical Court but the Church had expelled all of them.

The men successfully pleaded that they were acting under compulsion by force and witchcraft. They were imprisoned for life. The women were condemned to death for witchcraft and blasphemy. Although the commissioners published their report to justify the executions, the public version had been severely edited, but the real report had been filed in the Royal archives.

There were also sketches and a plan of the various lewd devices in the chapel. Those sketches were a significant part of the evidence. The folder contained copies of the sketches and plan.

The trial and more lurid details of the confessions obtained under 'the question' i.e. torture while the nuns and monks were held at Dover Castle. They variously confessed to witchcraft, Satanism, raising the dead, communing with the Roman and Greek pagan gods, perverting the citizens of the locality with their lascivious behaviour, pregnancy, childbirth and offering their services indiscriminately to men and women in exchange for money. How much of their confessions were true? No one knows.

The executions, unusually for that time, were not in public. The commissioners stated that as the nuns were supposed to be virgins they should have been forcibly raped by the executioner before he killed them, but 'it was manifest that they were no virgins' and the executioner was spared that duty. All ten women were strangled in the dungeons of Dover Castle, and their weighted bodies were taken out to sea and thrown overboard.

I could see that the historical information would have to be drastically edited before inclusion in the Council's confidential papers as part of a planning application. I wasn't even sure that the folder should be available at the private view. I spoke to Nicola about my reservations. That was a mistake. She wanted to rush to the chapel and read the folder - now!

At first I was disappointed with the private view. The planners were delighted with the reclaimed chapel, but everyone's interest was on the History Society's display and folder. I shouldn't have been surprised. Most of those present had been involved in clearing the chapel. They knew what it looked like already. But they hadn't been aware of the salacious history of the nuns and monks.

Nicola was obviously getting ideas about recreating some of their activities with me as her victim. I wasn't so sure. Some of what the nuns had done must have been painful for the monks.

Tom and Tamara were walking around the chapel while the others were reading the folder, some of it aloud. Tamara's arm was tucked into Tom's. She looked as if she had claimed him. Why not?

Suddenly Tamara stopped at pointed at something on the floor. She whispered in Tom's ear and then pointed to other parts of the floor. Tom looked at me and then beckoned for me to join them.

"Geoff," he said, "Tamara thinks she's spotted something. Tell him, Tamara."

"Mr Jonas," she started.

"No, Tamara, I'm not Mr Jonas to you. I'm Geoff, please."

"You're sure?"

"Tamara. You have helped me to restore this chapel. That was the act of a friend. Thank you."

"OK, Geoff. What I noticed? When I was here I had long hours with nothing to do. I studied my surroundings in minute detail, and part of the floor intrigued me. It was just slightly different. Now the partitions have gone and the floor is clean, I could see it again. Here."

Tamara pointed at the floor just in front of her feet. At first I couldn't see what was different. I had to move around so that the light was coming from the side. She was right. There was an irregularity.

"It didn't mean anything to me, Geoff, until I read the folder and looked at the plan. I think this was where one of the pillars to Priapus was. And over there are similar faint marks. I think they were the other pillars. Where the altar was is even less obvious, but it could only be in one place. There."

Tamara pointed again. She walked towards the East end of the chapel. Tom and I followed her. No one else noticed us. They were too engrossed in the detail of the History Society's folder.

"If we get lower down, I can show you more clearly," Tamara said.

She pulled Tom down to kneel beside her. I squatted on my heels. There was an outline of a rectangular structure on the tiles. I stood up. I was pleased but I felt mischievous looking at Tom kneeling beside Tamara.

"Tom," I said quietly so that only we three could hear. "She's got you in the right position, just where she wants you. You're kneeling in front of an imaginary altar. When are you going to do it for real?"

Tamara looked shocked. Tom was startled at first as he took in what I had said. Tamara started to get up. Tom gently pulled her back and looked at her.

"Is that what you really want, Tamara? This old man?"

"Everyone else except you, Tom, know she does." I said.

Tamara's face paled. She looked at me.

"Don't look at me, Tamara. Look at the man you love. You do, don't you?"

She turned her head towards Tom.

"Yes," she whispered.

I walked away, back to Nicola who was coming towards me. Everyone else was still crowded around the History Society's display. She hugged me.

"What have you done, Geoff?" She said, looking past me at Tamara and Tom, still kneeling but with their arms around each other.

"Told Tom, but not in so many words, that he should marry Tamara. I think it worked."

"You romantic idiot! You could have..."

"But I didn't. They love each other, Nicola."

"And I love you but sometimes you are impossible, Geoff."

"I know. That's not likely to change. But while I'm being impossible, why don't I go even further?"

"Further? Haven't you done enough?"

"No, Nicola."

I knelt down in front of her.

"Geoff! You can't! Not now!"

I smiled up at her.

"Yes, Nicola. I can. Will you marry me, please?"

She paused, looking over my head at Tom and Tamara still kneeling side by side, closely wrapped together.

"If you love me like Tom does Tamara..."

"I do," I said.

"Then, yes Geoff, I will marry you."

"Thank you, Nicola. I will try to make sure you never regret it."

I fumbled in my trouser pocket to produce the box with the ring.

"Here you are, Nicola. My mother's engagement ring. It should fit."

Nicola pretended to hit me.

"You knew you were going to propose, Geoff, didn't you?"

"Let's just say I was prepared in case there was a suitable moment, Nicola, my new fiancée. And Tamara's love for Tom was the catalyst."

Nicola pulled me up into a kiss. When we ended that kiss she rested her head against my shoulder. An entwined Tom and Tamara walked up to us.

"Thank you, Geoff," Tom said. "I didn't realise..."

"I gave you enough hints, Tom," Tamara interrupted. "But thank you from me too. We're engaged."

"So are we," Nicola said.

"Congratulations," Tom and Tamara said together.

"And congratulations to you too," Nicola said. She and Tamara hugged each other. Tom and I shook hands.

"Shall we tell them?" I said, pointing to the other people who were as yet unaware of us.

"Why not?" Tom said. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Tom shouted. They all turned to look at us.

"We have an announcement to make."

Tamara squeezed his hand.

"Tamara and I are engaged."

They all started clapping. Tamara's former associates rushed across to her for a session of hugging and kissing that included Tom.

"And we have another one," I said loudly. "Nicola has agreed to be my wife."

Anja, Dvina, Sanja and Tamara swamped Nicola and me. Both couples were congratulated by everyone. Eventually I was able to speak again.