by Martin Howe
“Well he hasn’t.”
“What?” Tony was taken aback, “How do you know?”
Peter smiled.
“You really haven’t twigged how serious we are, have you? We left no stone unturned to track you lot down. It obviously never occurred to you we’d have gone after him first, as he was the one who did most of the damage to Grandad. He was hard to find, but nothing like you. It was difficult because he’s sunk so low, but at least he still uses his real name.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s working on and off as a barman in a pub in Birmingham. I think his hours depend on when he’s sober, which means he doesn’t work much. He’s a bloated, drunken pig and we got very little that was coherent out of him. He was pitifully abject when he realized who Grandad was, crying and grovelling at his feet. But it was obviously only the drink talking as nothing else touches him now. Not totally satisfying from my point of view. To make matters worse his boss, the landlord of the pub, couldn’t give a toss when we told him who he was and what he had done. He just laughed and said if he refused to employ people with a dodgy past he’d never have anybody behind the bar, himself included.”
“Did he mention me?”
“Ooo, it wouldn’t do to leave you out, would it. As a matter of fact through his tears Eric did speak well of you. Said you were the best friend he’d ever had, but had no idea where you were. I didn’t believe him, and I think I broke his nose trying to get it out of him. It was very unpleasant as he cried easily, his whole face was damp and bloody. I intended to hurt him, but when it came to it we’re not all like some we could mention. We left him blubbing away and continued our search for you, who really had hidden himself away, hadn’t you?”
“It was my father-in-law who finally sorted me out. He turned up in Blackpool out of the blue one week-end, he’d obviously been talking to Emily, and invited me out for a meal. God that was a treat, just after the war, rationing at its height, to go to a restaurant was really something. Hard to imagine now. I was surprised and on my guard, edgy even. Looking back I was extremely boorish and probably rather rude. It wasn’t that I disliked him, in fact quite the opposite. He looked a lot like Emily and had an easy natural charm that he had refined over the years in his dealings with generations of reluctant church goers.”
“He was a vicar?”
“Didn’t I say? Yes. A beautiful parish in rural Cheshire. He would have gone far in the Church but for his mid-life indiscretions.”
Peter looked genuinely surprised for the first time that afternoon, his interest piqued.
“Not choirboys, don’t tell me it was choirboys?”
Tony shrugged, no longer offended by the man’s base view of his profession.
“He wouldn’t have stood for that. He’d have given you a good hiding just for suggesting such a thing, he was a tall fit man. No, nothing like that. He was in the British Union.”
“A fascist? I don’t believe it.”
“Yes, he was one of a number of black-shirted vicars dotted around the country. He was also one of the first members of the Party, an early enthusiast. But that wasn’t really what held him back. It was the fact that he wrote a regular column for our paper,“ The Blackshirt”. Week in week out he tackled the moral and political issues of the day from a Christian fascist perspective.”
“You’re joking aren’t you? This is hard to believe.”
“No, he was very good at it. One of the few intellectuals in the Party. The powers that be in the Church didn’t mind at all before the war, maybe some of them even agreed with a lot of it. But the war and the internment of party members changed that. He must have come close to being locked up himself, but he somehow managed to avoid that. Pulled a few strings I expect. Anyway, he was told to stop his writing activities, lie low and as far as possible draw a veil over his past activities. And that’s exactly what he did for the duration of the war. He actually recanted his fascist past in print sometime later, in 1948 or 49 I think. Tore up his party card. But when he spoke to me over our steak and potato pie – heavens it was delicious – he was still a member. l respected him and he threw me a lifeline.”
“He got you into the church. I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”
Peter was aghast. He sat there looking wide-eyed at Tony, shaking his head.
“It’s a bloody conspiracy, that’s what it is. The whole thing stinks to high heaven.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It wasn’t like that. Grandad can you fathom this?”
The damaged man shifted in his wheelchair, his gaze fixed on Tony.
“My father-in-law pointed a way forward for me, that’s all. Suggested I consider it. Give some thought to whether I had any sort of vocation. He was a perceptive man and thinking about it now, yes, he flattered me. He said he had always seen a spiritual side to me. One he felt sure events had forced me to neglect. But it was never too late.”
Peter laughed out loud, his whole body shaking, his right hand beating time on his thigh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I know what’s coming,” he struggled to find the words, “you had a …damn it, it’s on the tip of my tongue. What is it?…that’s right. It was like Paul on the road to Damascus, a blinding light.”
“You’re thinking of an epiphany.”
Tony couldn’t help himself, Peter shrugged.
“No, not exactly. He had planted a seed and the idea grew on me. To my surprise I wasn’t put off by the thought of becoming a priest and on reflection I did discover I had another more contemplative, compassionate side. It was a little bit like a revelation, a dropping away of the scales, but nothing dramatic. I just felt an intellectual opening up, an appreciation of some inner worth hidden deep within myself. It gave me hope for the future, where before I’d had none. On the practical side, I’d have described myself as a lapsed churchgoer, particularly since leaving home. As an adult I never ever went to services, but before that I was there every Sunday, regular as clockwork with my mother. So you could say I knew the basics. And I’d had lots of practice speaking in public during my time with the Party. People said I had a good voice, persuasive even. It was also a challenge. William, that’s my father-in-law, said he could smooth the way if I was interested and he left it at that, no hard sell.”
“You obviously leapt at the chance, you fraud.”
“It probably looks like that. I can understand why you see it that way. It certainly helped me out of the hole I’d dug myself into. But, please believe me, l did have faith when I decided to have a go and its grown over the years. I am a Christian. Forgiveness is important and I forgave myself for my past. It was the vital first step and I took it. I genuinely believed that every prayer I offered up, every service I held, every damaged soul I comforted over the years gradually helped tip the balance back in my favour. Until you turned up, I thought I had made real progress in making amends for my youthful sins, that the scales were balancing up, but it turns out I was very wrong. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Sighing quietly to himself he rested his forehead on the edge of the desk and stared down between his legs at his scuffed brown shoes. It was painful sitting like that with the wooden rim of the table cutting into his skin. He was tired and miserable and it did all seem such a long time ago.
The bishop was coming towards him with an outstretched hand.
“Mr Coxon-Dyet very pleased to meet you. William has told me so much about you. Do take a seat.”
His fingers were short and chubby, two large rings nestled in the rolls of skin and his hand felt moist. The bishop’s palace, a stately Georgian mansion hidden away in a cobbled close near to the Cathedral, was more or less what Tony had been expecting, a forbidding exterior to a world that was daunting in being so far outside his experience. In that instant it did not seem the right path for him to follow and he had hesitated ou
tside in the narrow courtyard, had been about to slip away when he was seen through a window by a young cleric who opened the door.
“We’re expecting you. Please follow me.”
The book-lined office smelled of mothballs and was stuffy, the viscid air resistant to movement. Tony, obliged to enter, felt the medium stretch then part around his body, sucking him in. He was conscious of stumbling onto a lit stage, illumination streaming from his right. The afternoon sun was glinting through the leaves of an immense horse-chestnut tree, whose branches shifting in the slight breeze scratched gently on the glass of a large floor to ceiling casement, its windows firmly closed. The Bishop waving his hands expansively round the room directed Tony to sit wherever he liked. He chose a capacious red-leather armchair in front of the ornate marble fireplace, only realizing his mistake as he sank down between its ample arms, the plumped velvet cushions offering little resistance or support. His discomfort was acute wedged, as he was, in a confined space close to the floor, embarrassment flushing his face and his temperature rising. He fought the urge to loosen his new starched collar. From above and behind him he heard the Bishop’s mellifluous voice, his words floating on the heavy dust laden air, making little sense.
“Sherry or would you like something stronger?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Tony noticed for the first time the ticking of the large clock on the mantelpiece and looked up. One minute past three. He had been in the room less than sixty seconds and it felt like an age. Flustered he dusted his face with his right hand, then discreetly wiped his sodden palm on his jacket.
“Mr Coxon-Dyet, what would you like?”
“Oh God, what was he asking me? This is stupid, what am I doing? I’ll never pull this off.”
A stupefying blankness settled over Tony and his temples throbbed. The woollen trousers of his black suit adhered to the back of his legs as he tried to get up. Then thinking better of it he shifted uneasily in his seat and sat there blinking, staring at the empty chair opposite with its halo of green and yellow.
“I’m having a sherry, a very fine amontillado.”
“Ah yes,” said Tony, his relieved voice booming round the room, “I’ll have one as well, thank you.”
A giggle, faint like a rustle in a hedgerow, then the squeal of a cork being pulled, the glugging of liquid and the chink of glasses.
“No need to shout. Has someone been telling you I’m going deaf? Don’t believe a word of it.”
Laughter again, this time drawing closer. Two sherry glasses appeared on a silver tray. He took one. The heavy bulk of the Bishop lowered himself into the other armchair with a sigh. Tony could see nothing clearly, the sun was blinding, having sunk below the leafy branches of the horse chestnut, it was now shining directly through the window. A voice, kindly this time, some barrier having been lowered, floated on the warm drenched air.
“Good health Anthony, I may call you Anthony?”
Tony nodded.
“I’m very glad you came to see me. William had nothing but good things to say about you and, as you probably know, William and I go back a long way. I’m always on the lookout for serious young men to join the church. Particularly now, of course, when the need is even more urgent.”
The mature, well-rounded voice, obviously used to pronouncing and brooking no interruption, soothed Tony fears and lifted his fading confidence. The words of his father-in-law came to him, “Basil loves the sound of his own voice, so say very little, agree with everything he says, laugh at his jokes and if he likes you, you’ll be fine. And he’ll like you, believe me.”
Tony found it hard to believe the two men who were so completely different in appearance were, according to Emily, almost exactly the same age. She’d sat on Uncle Basil’s knee many times and wondered how anybody could get so fat. All the men she had known, apart from him, had been tall and thin, with a full head of hair like her father. Tony, relaxing and focusing, could now see where his nickname of “Piggy” came from. The bishop had a slightly upturned nose and his almost complete lack of hair accentuated his large protruding ears. Emily had spoken affectionately of “Piggy” and Tony was now reassured to have his fate resting in the hands of such a kindly, undemanding individual. His glass was empty and still there had been no questions. When one finally arrived he was well prepared.
“Anthony, I must ask you this. Do you have a faith strong enough to administer to a flock of what are often virtual non-believers? Are you prepared to work hard in often difficult circumstances to advance the word of God?”
“I am my Lord.”
“Oh come now, Anthony, no need for such formality, call me Basil, at least in the confines of my office, you know what I mean? Your wife stands on no such ceremony with me. I know full well what she calls me behind my back, the little rascal. How is darling Emily by the way?”
“She is very well, Basil. She sends her love and hopes to see you soon.”
“I’m glad to hear that, she was seriously ill I heard?”
“Yes, but she seems to have got over it. If I can find some work that will help of course. Things have been very difficult for her.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure, difficult times for all of us. Let me top that up for you?”
“Thanks, but let me.”
“Would you dear boy, thank you. Anything that saves my poor legs these days is very welcome.”
Light-headed, his equilibrium somewhat restored, Tony handed back a full sherry glass. His grip was steady and his mind clear. For the first time in months he sensed a realistic way forward, an escape, and he was determined to pursue it.
“Thank-you. You’ve had one yourself, oh good. Bottoms up. Now where were we? Ah yes, you were telling me about the strength of your beliefs and your commitment to the Church.”
“That’s right. I’ve always been a regular churchgoer, for that I thank my mother, God rest her soul.”
“Remind me where you’re from?”
“Blackpool.”
“Know it well. I’ve fond memories of many a happy holiday spent there, though I haven’t been back in years. I expect it’s changed?”
“It’s getting bigger but the prom is much the same, though you won’t recognize the Pleasure Beach, some great rides there now.”
“Mmmm memories. Sorry, you were saying.”
“I had strong beliefs as a boy, which, through a variety of circumstances largely outside my control, lapsed as a young man. But it was during my war service…”
“Good, good.”
“… that I re-discovered my true faith. For the first time I felt I might have a calling and it was here that William played a huge part in helping me understand the way forward. He put my faith to the test and I believe I can say found it not to be wanting. He then suggested I come and see you, Basil.”
The Bishop smiled.
“So you believe in the redeeming power of our Lord Jesus Christ?”
“I do, I believe in nothing more strongly.”
“That’s more than enough for me. I’ll set everything in motion. There’ll be no problems at our end. You’ll be hearing from us soon. Good luck young man. I’ll follow your career with interest. Very pleased to have met you.”
He held out his hand.
“It was so easy, so very easy.”
Peter was staring impatiently at him.
“What was?”
Tony lifted his head slowly from the desk. He had forgotten for a moment that he was not alone.
“Getting into the Church.”
“Nothing bloody surprises me any more. When you’ve finished feeling sorry for yourself maybe you’ll tell us?”
“With the Bishop’s blessing I …”
“Hang on what Bishop?”
“Bishop Basil Smedley, old college room-mate of my father-in-law and long-time friend of their family. I wen
t to see him and he liked me…”
“Surprise, surprise.”
“He gave me the go ahead to apply to Bladen College. He effectively sponsored me, wrote a glowing testimonial.”
“Pulled a few strings you mean.”
Peter placed a hand on his Grandfather’s shoulder and shook his head in an exaggerated manner, his face expressing total disgust.
“It’s not who you are but who you know, it makes me sick.”
“I understand, I really do,” Tony leant forward earnestly, “It’s the one and only time it’s ever happened to me. With my background such things didn’t happen. Not as a rule. But believe me I wasn’t in a position to say no. I was desperate and I leapt at the chance. William, my father-in-law, knew people at the college, he used to teach there part-time, and they drew a veil over my checkered past and rather shaky qualifications. They were never ever mentioned. I think it helped I turned out to be quite a good student, hard-working and industrious. I found I really enjoyed the course, it was totally different to anything I’d done before. I suppose I rose to the challenge.”
“Bully for you, I’m so pleased, finding fulfillment at last.”
“It was, looking back, the happiest time of my life, as a student then in my first parish near the docks in Liverpool. I was worried someone might recognize me from my Party days as I had been active in that area at one time, so I grew a beard, which was quite the trendy thing in young religious circles at the time, and no one ever did. From a black shirt to a black habit was too big a leap for most people.”
