This Green and Pleasant Land

by Ayisha Malik

‘You’ll let us know?’

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s happening with the mosque?’

  Richard smiled. He wished it didn’t come across as a sad one, but he was too tired to hide his feelings.

  ‘You care about it?’ he asked.

  ‘After everything that’s happened … be hard not to.’

  He wanted to say that perhaps she’d begin to care about other things in the same way, but it didn’t seem proper. Richard had his faith – if this was a difficulty he had to bear, he would bear it with dignity and without reproach.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘I suppose we both have that in common. And the grave business?’

  She shook her head and so he didn’t press her further.

  ‘I’m going to go and see Mariam and Bilal today,’ said Anne. ‘Offer my condolences. Even Dad thought Khala “wasn’t the worst thing in the world”.’

  ‘Right, I’d better leave you to it then,’ he said.

  Anne hesitated. ‘You can come with me. If you want.’

  There was a time to think and a time to feel, and perhaps now it was his turn to allow the latter.

  ‘You wouldn’t mind?’ he asked.

  ‘You know …’ She smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t take this as me giving you hope, okay?’

  He gave a short nod.

  ‘People do give you a hard time, don’t they?’

  ‘It’s what I signed up for.’

  ‘Well, you did your job well,’ she said. ‘With me and Dad.’

  ‘Anne—’

  ‘You should know that. Because whatever else might happen, we’ll always be friends, won’t we?’

  He nodded again. ‘Yes. Always.’

  Mariam and Bilal had more than a few questions for Shelley. She sat, hands folded over her knees, refusing to take her coat off as she explained her walks with Khala.

  ‘Right,’ said Mariam. ‘Khala did mention seeing you once, but that was it.’

  To Mariam, it added another layer to the mystery of Khala. It increased her fondness for her – a fondness that she wished she’d shown more of. The real surprise came, though, when Shelley said she wanted to organise a memorial for Khala.

  ‘We don’t really have memorials,’ explained Mariam.

  She felt Bilal stiffen.

  ‘I see,’ replied Shelley.

  ‘That’s not to say we can’t have one,’ added Bilal, looking at Mariam. ‘I think Khala would’ve liked it.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to do anything to offend your … beliefs.’

  ‘It means a lot,’ said Bilal. ‘That you’d like to do this.’

  ‘I might not have known her very long but there are certain people who, well, you know …’

  It was odd for Mariam and Bilal to hear words come out of Shelley’s mouth so contrary to her usual rigid manners.

  ‘What?’ asked Mariam.

  Shelley looked put out.

  ‘We know,’ interjected Bilal. ‘Thank you.’

  Just as Shelley got up to leave, the doorbell rang and Bilal returned with Richard and Anne. Shelley looked at both of them.

  ‘Sorry, we … I should’ve called before popping over,’ said Anne.

  ‘No. Sit,’ said Mariam.

  ‘I was just about to leave,’ added Shelley, but no-one moved.

  A stillness filled the air, coats rustled, throats cleared.

  ‘Still cold out, isn’t it?’ said Bilal.

  ‘Windy, too,’ added Richard.

  Shelley looked like she might move but then thought better of it. ‘Tom feeling better?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anne.

  ‘Good.’

  Bilal took Richard’s and Anne’s coats as they all sat down, and for a moment they felt the lack of Khala in the room. The clock ticked in the background. Haaris’s footsteps came from upstairs as Mariam caught Bilal’s eye.

  ‘Tea?’ said Mariam.

  ‘Yes,’ added Bilal, shooting up and following her to the kitchen.

  ‘Could you have agreed with Shelley any more about the memorial?’ said Mariam.

  ‘Someone had to,’ he said.

  ‘It’s typical. She completely ignored Khala in public and now thinks she has the right to put on a show.’

  ‘Shh. I don’t think it is a show. And keep your voice down. You know, I wish you could be more gracious about it.’

  ‘Me?’ said Mariam. ‘Is that one of my flaws?’

  ‘I’d say it’s in the top three, at least.’

  She nudged him away, trying not to laugh, as she took some biscuits out. ‘And yours is your eternal optimism.’

  She would tell him one day, maybe even tonight, that she was grateful for his optimism.

  ‘Don’t you think Khala would’ve loved the idea of a memorial?’

  This, Mariam couldn’t disagree with.

  ‘Need any help?’ Anne appeared in the doorway. ‘It’s a little quiet in there.’

  They carried the tea back in, putting the biscuits on the table. Richard was looking pensive and Shelley remote. Biscuits crunched, teacups clinked.

  ‘I mean the—’

  ‘That Turnpike Constructions—’

  ‘Can you believe—’

  Everyone spoke at once and then paused.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ said Shelley. ‘This is just the beginning.’

  ‘Yes, well done for gathering all those signatures and sending off that letter,’ said Richard.

  ‘Big companies do this,’ said Mariam. ‘They’ll tell us things they think we want to hear: economic boost.’

  ‘Less traffic,’ said Anne.

  ‘Convenience,’ added Bilal.

  Richard sighed and looked at the ground. It only just occurred to Mariam how he must be feeling – that he might lose a church in this way.

  ‘What we need to do is show that it’s actually used,’ he said, looking around the room. ‘We can argue that it has cultural significance, but remember we have two churches in Babbel’s End. St Swithun’s is so close to the main road that there probably wouldn’t be much damage to the nature reserves either.’

  ‘But it is used,’ said Shelley.

  Richard looked at her. ‘No, Shelley. You know as well as I do that it’s not.’

  There was a protracted silence.

  ‘I see,’ said Shelley.

  The four of them stared at her, willing her to say something. If she could come out with it, if they could just get her on side, then they had a shot.

  ‘The archdeacon might change his mind, I suppose, about recommending the deconsecration to the bishop?’ she said.

  ‘Given what’s happening, I’d say yes. Absolutely,’ replied Richard.

  Shelley looked at Bilal, her chest rising and falling, as if ready to burst with all the feelings bundled up inside.

  ‘But I was thinking,’ said Mariam. ‘What if we made it into something that would get even more use?’

  Anne looked at Mariam. ‘Like a Buddhist centre?’

  They both laughed, remembering Gavin standing in his black vest and silver chain, talking about his Buddhist girlfriend.

  ‘Why not just turn it into a contemplation room?’ joked Bilal.

  Richard nodded. ‘A multi-faith centre.’

  ‘I was joking,’ said Bilal, now alarmed at the notion. ‘It’s not quite what we had in mind.’

  Mariam held his gaze. ‘No. I know.’

  ‘A multi-faith centre?’ said Bilal, unsure, though not unwilling.

  ‘Oh, heavens above,’ interrupted Shelley. ‘Is Babbel’s End going to become a sanctuary for hippies?’

  ‘It’s a very good plan,’ said Richard, looking at Shelley. ‘More viable for the bishop and, I imagine, useful for our petition.’

  They all looked at Shelley again.

  ‘I see,’ she said after a few moments.

  She struggled. It was an ideal she was giving up, after all.

  Bilal took a deep breath. ‘I supp
ose this way we might really be able to keep it, if we can prove it’s used and necessary.’

  Shelley nodded. ‘Well. I can’t argue with that.’ She looked at the ground, visibly pained at the choice before her. ‘But I suppose a person should know when they’ve lost a battle.’

  Mariam watched Bilal, waiting for a look of triumph to emerge, as she was sure it had done for her. Instead, he just leaned forward.

  ‘Only because there’s a war to be won.’

  Even Shelley showed the hint of a smile.

  They drank their tea and discussed a collective meeting to let everyone know about the new direction. When their guests had left, Bilal decided to pick up the phone and make the call he knew he should make.

  ‘Hello, Bruce?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s Bilal.’

  There was a pause. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Bilal sat on the edge of the sofa and thought about it. ‘I’m sorry. For the graffiti accusation. I knew that you’d taken the blame for Dan. But you know I had to call the police, what with me thinking you wrote the note.’

  Pause.

  ‘But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yes, well … I’d never consider writing such a thing,’ said Bruce.

  ‘Have you found a new job?’

  ‘They’re not that easy to come by around here.’

  ‘No. I know.’ Bilal paused again. ‘Bruce … I’d like to offer your old job back.’

  Mariam had come into the room and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re good at it.’

  Bruce sighed. ‘Well, I appreciate that, but I have to be honest and tell you – I never liked the idea of your mosque and I can’t pretend to change my views on it just because there’s a job at stake.’

  Bilal almost laughed at Bruce’s honesty. ‘Is that a no, then?’

  ‘I’m just telling you how I feel. But I’ve always worked hard and that’s how I’d continue. You’ll have no trouble from me. Or my son,’ he added.

  ‘And if the church does get turned into a mosque or multi-faith centre or whatever it’s meant to be?’ asked Bilal.

  ‘Well, that’s the way of the world.’

  It wasn’t quite what Bilal wanted to hear, but it was a start. ‘Then the offer still stands. If you’ll take it.’

  For a moment Bilal thought Bruce had hung up on him. ‘Well, I’m very grateful to you. Yes, I’ll take it.’

  ‘Great. Good. Come in on Monday and we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you.’

  Bilal was about to put the phone down when Bruce added: ‘Also … I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.’

  Bilal breathed a sigh of relief. Why couldn’t he have just said that earlier? He finally put the phone down and looked at Mariam.

  ‘Do you want to get Gerald to do his artwork on your door again too?’ said Mariam.

  Bilal laughed. ‘Don’t be dramatic. You know it was the right thing to do.’

  Mariam smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘And a multi-faith centre instead of a mosque?’ said Bilal. ‘I thought you hated being apologetic about anything.’

  ‘If we’re going to start seeing compromise as apologetic then we might as well give up now,’ she added in her matter-of-fact tone.

  He shook his head and put his arms around her waist. At first, Mariam was taken aback, but she liked the feeling of him close to her and it rather surprised her. It made her think: yes, I am letting go of something. It’s finally happening.

  ‘Get a room, guys,’ said Haaris, coming into the room as Mariam and Bilal laughed. Life might be an endless seam of worries coming apart and gathering themselves into a knot, but as Khala would say, quoting the Qur’an, ‘Allah never burdens a soul beyond that which it can bear.’

  SHELLEY WASN’T PRONE TO nerves, but today was different.

  The prospect had come to her as if by divine intervention. It was impossible to shake the idea, no matter how hard she’d tried. As promised, a meeting had been set up in The Pig and the Ox to talk about the steps in fighting this A-road disaster. It was a welcome distraction from her now lonely walks.

  ‘We have to pick our battles wisely,’ said Shelley, sipping her sherry.

  ‘Damn shame,’ replied Copperthwaite. ‘But a mosque is the lesser of the two evils.’

  ‘Multi-faith centre,’ corrected Richard, putting down his pint and joining the group. ‘The archdeacon has agreed.’

  He explained the new direction the deconsecration of the church was going to take to an audience of unchanging facial expressions. To most, it seemed one and the same thing.

  ‘So, will there still be calls to prayer?’ asked Jenny, James nodding along.

  ‘Dear girl, there never were going to be calls to prayer,’ said Margaret, quite exasperated.

  ‘Hmph. Multi-faith centre,’ said Copperthwaite. ‘What’re we going to think of next, eh?’

  He lifted his red wine as Margaret picked up a peanut from a bowl and threw it at him. Shelley rubbed her fingers together. If the church would no longer be consecrated, then of course her idea made sense.

  Mariam and Bilal entered and took their seats as more people gathered. Curt nods ensued, accompanied by a general unease about former ideas and words now that alliances had shifted and a new collective had been formed.

  ‘May I just say …’ interjected Mrs Pankhurst, looking grave as she stood up.

  Everyone looked at her. Margaret rolled her eyes at Mariam and Bilal.

  ‘… I rather like having just the one table,’ she added, looking pointedly at her husband, Shelley, Jenny, James and Copperthwaite.

  Shelley noticed Anne coming through the doors. She pulled up a seat next to Richard.

  ‘Dad said that if anyone spoke sense at this meeting I should give you all a solid “hear, hear”.’

  Very soon the awkward nods and addresses were forgotten by the A-road induced passions: it would change the village for ever. What about the greenery? The extra pedestrian crossings? The noise pollution? Even if they thought it, no-one mentioned the positive things it would mean for the surrounding towns, the jobs it would create and the families it would feed. How could they think of the things that didn’t directly affect them?

  Everyone’s spirits had been roused, but Shelley remained distracted by her idea, which had now practically grown tentacles in her mind. She’d email a plan of action, delegate jobs and arrange another meeting in the next month. A few people left, but most stayed, chatting with one another, basking in the glory of mutual discontent.

  ‘Reverend,’ said Shelley, walking over. ‘May I have a word?’

  He followed her to a table at the back of the room as Shelley looked at him.

  ‘I’d like to do Khala’s memorial in the church.’

  At first he seemed confused.

  ‘Well, the multi-faith centre,’ she sighed.

  ‘Oh,’ replied Richard.

  ‘Since it’s being deconsecrated I thought it’d make sense,’ she added.

  She wished the reverend wouldn’t look at her like that: as if she had changed; as if this whole thing made her a better person, because Shelley was not in favour of condescension.

  ‘You have a point there, Shelley.’

  ‘Yes, well. I wanted to know when the deconsecration might happen – so I could plan it accordingly.’

  ‘There’s no official prayer or ritual required,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it this week.’

  Shelley seemed to start at how soon that was, but the world moved at a speed to which she supposed she would have to become accustomed.

  Mariam and Bilal sat in the back row. Shelley looked around the church with its stained glass and plaques on the walls, the huge King James bible at the front, the writing in Latin next to it, and she felt a sense of the past slip away.

  ‘We have celebrated the Lord’s Supper here and been nurtured by it through our journey in faith,’
began Richard, with his litany of thanksgiving. ‘From within these walls many have gone out to serve you in the world. As we go now from this house into a further journey of faith.’

  The litany was followed by the hymn: ‘For the Beauty of the Earth’, as Mr and Mrs Pankhurst removed the altar stone, James and Jenny took the host in the tabernacle, while Guppy, along with Harry and others, picked up the statues and sacred vessels. Item by item, the church was emptied of its defining features. Shelley turned around to see Mariam and Bilal’s impassive faces, and with the taking away of each item, a new heaviness weighed on her. She was witnessing the loss of something dear and it brought a tear to her usually dry eyes. One look at the reverend told her that for all his liberal airs and graces, he felt the same.

  Richard spoke again: ‘This building, having been consecrated with the land on which it stands and all objects remaining in it, we now deconsecrate and declare that it is no longer the meeting place of a Christian congregation.’ He took a moment as his eyes rested on Bilal. The reverend ended the closing prayer: ‘May we be channels at all times of your steadfast love, through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.’

  Everyone left the building, shaking the reverend’s hand, as Shelley heard Margaret say: ‘Well, I don’t see what the fuss is. First time the church has been used in years!’

  ‘What do you mean, no alcohol?’ exclaimed Copperthwaite.

  ‘If a person’s honouring someone,’ whispered Shelley, loud enough for Richard to hear, ‘then they should at least get the details right.’

  They had returned a week later to the church that was now a multi-faith centre in name, if not yet entirely in appearance.

  Shelley hadn’t been sure whether Copperthwaite would even turn up – but there he was, just like he always had been. She felt a rush of affection for her longstanding friend, who bore everyone’s scrutinising looks with a mix of fortitude and humility. He even tried to smile at one or two people – particularly Bilal, though it may have been mistaken for Copperthwaite needing the bathroom. He’d done the right thing and apologised, in his own way. Shelley was grateful to Bilal for accepting it. It occurred to her how much he and Mariam had forgiven just in order to move on. Would she have shown the same grace under the circumstances? Would it have been expected of her?