The name of Lakenheath always seems singularly inappropriate. There isn't a lake, and you left the heath behind four miles ago on the other side of Mildenhall. In fact, the name is a corruption of lyking-hythe, meaning the landing place of the fen dwellers. Lakenheath is a fen edge village, like so many places across the border in Cambridgeshire. The fen starts immediately to the west of the high street - you step down into it. Lakenheath has the feel of a frontier town. I always expect to see tumbleweeds blowing along the high street.

Lakenheath is the second biggest parish in Suffolk, by quite a long way. Unlike Mildenhall, the biggest, it doesn't have settlements scattered throughout it. Here, everyone lives along the ancient road from Eriswell. In 1844, White's Directory could observe that this was between the fen and the great warren, but today the great warren has gone, replaced by one of the biggest American airbases in Europe. They are the main employer for miles around, and as at Mildenhall the town centre suffers from this; if you work on the base you can shop on the base, and everybody does.

Here on the edge of Suffolk, non-conformism set in early, and several of the villages had Baptist and Methodist churches before the Victorians brought them Anglican ones. Now, the Church of England is in retreat, surviving best where it has fully embraced evangelical protestant theology. Here, then, it is remarkable to discover that St Mary remains one of Suffolk's few Anglo-catholic shrines. Whether you consider it an oasis of liturgical correctness in a desert of low-brow mumbo-jumbo, or a weed of error and misogynism in the garden of bible-based truth, is up to you. That there can even be such a disagreement shows how far we have all come.

A curious story. About two years ago, the affable parish priest of Lakenheath, Father James Mather, left to go to a new parish in Norfolk. The Diocese decided that, as Lakenheath was unable to raise its full parish quota (an arbitrary target for fund-raising set by the Diocese itself) it would no longer be able to have its own Priest, but would be brought under the care of the Rector of Brandon, who, although no doubt a very able man, was by no means an Anglo-Catholic. This sharing of Priests is par for the course nowadays, of course, and the situation here doesn't seem unreasonable; until you discover that Lakenheath had been unable to raise its quota for several years, and the Rector of Brandon had only been in place for 18 months. During the interregnum at Brandon there had never been the hint of a suggestion that both parishes should be placed under the care of Father James Mather. There are all sorts of conclusions that can be drawn from this, I suppose; one of them is that the Diocese isn't terribly keen to give Suffolk Anglo-catholics their head.

However, the story has a happy ending. Suffolk tends to attract more retired clergy than the Dioceses of, say, Birmingham or Southwark, and Lakenheath still manages the full panoply of Anglo-Catholic liturgy, without the pressure of raising enough money to pay for it. This comes as some relief, according to the member of the congregation who told me the story.

The church sits end-on to the busy street, a pub across the road for company. The graveyard is a fascinating one, and a great text for understanding the changes in graveyard fashions; the 18th century graves are hard against the street, and you travel through time as you head eastwards, finally reaching the 1890s against the back fence.

From the street, the most striking feature of St Mary is what appears to be a large porch to the west of the tower. This is so singular that it has inspired a variety of interpretations. Some say that it is a galilee porch as at Mutford, others suggest a chapel (there is an upper room with niches in the eastern wall). The window in the west face suggests a 15th century origin, although if that is the case the doorway below has obviously been renewed. In fact, it is none of these things. It was built in the years after the Reformation, probably in the early 18th century, as a schoolroom. The niches in the upper room are actually the formerly external niches on the tower's west face. However, the building appears older simply because the masonry and window were taken from the former parish church of Eriswell St Peter, the ruins of which still sit at the southern end of Lakenheath high street, transformed in the 18th century into a dovecot for Eriswell Hall.

The 13th century tower is older than we are used to on big churches, and there was a general rebuilding at the time, but the core of the building is Norman, and, wonderfully, still remains so inside.

You step in to a lovely, mysterious space, full of colour. Turning east, the Norman chancel arch is the best in Suffolk, the beautiful nave altar beneath it complementing it perfectly. Beyond, the high altar with its big six candles and Sarum screen are simple and splendid.

There are four remarkable medieval survivals at Lakenheath, and the one that will strike you first is the sequence of wall paintings on the north arcade. There are a little difficult to decipher at first because there are at least three separate sets overlaying each other, the last of which is a nasty diaper and curly tree-pattern probably dating from the 18th century. The first figure you see as you enter is St Edmund low down on the column. He wears a crown and holds three arrows. Above, the later tree pattern overlies scenes from the life of Christ; the carrying of the cross on the right is easily discernible.

The upper levels are clearer, and the figures larger. Most obvious of all is the Annunciation scene. Click on the images below to see them enlarged.

Don't miss also the Christ in Majesty to the south of the chancel arch. You can examine it at close quarters, and see that the quality is really something special. I assume that it was the last in a sequence that once spread along the south arcade.

While in the south aisle you may notice, if you haven't done so already, some of Suffolk's finest bench ends. The most famous is the Lakenheath tigress. She stoops, beguiled by a mirror. The medieval bestiary recorded that the only way to steal a tigress's cubs is to place a mirror in the path of her pursuit. She then stops to look at her reflection, and the hunter makes off with her babies. The bestiary explained that the tigress is like humanity, the cubs are her soul, the hunter is the devil, and the mirror is worldly pleasure. Although damaged, of equal fame is the representation of two wrestlers, who have got themselves into a position that I shall only describe as intimate. There's also a contortionist, and a whale eating another one. Click on the images below to enlarge them.

The third great survival here is Suffolk's best Norman font. It was probably that of the original church, and looks so much like the kind of thing the Victorians copied that you have to give it a second glance to make sure. It is topped by a stunningly beautiful font cover. Everything here is well-kept, and obviously much loved by a congregation who are proud of their church and want you to love it too. So different from my experience up the road at Mildenhall.

And, finally above your head is another tremendous angel roof. Many writers have said that it is by the same craftsman as the one at Mildenhall. I don't know enough to say, except that here the feeling is so very different. At Mildenhall the angels are remote and magnificent; here, they are intimate and lovely.

Apparently, English Heritage are casting their beady eye on Lakenheath. As well as advising on the restoration of the existing wall paintings, their infrared cameras have discovered considerable wall painting in the north aisle. Perhaps there are more exciting discoveries still to be made, but even without them I think that this church is, along with Hessett, the most interesting and lovely in the west of Suffolk.

St Mary, Lakenheath, is located in the high street. It is often open, but a key is available nearby if not.

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