by Adam Grinter
When they reached the tube station it was the first opportunity for John to take a look at his surroundings in the light of day. He had expected the bustle he’d encountered on the journey to the station. He had not, however, expected the number of people. They were everywhere, they all moved very quickly in all directions to destinations he could only imagine.
He sat in wide-eyed wonder as the tube thundered under London’s streets. The three of them sat in silence, like everyone else in the carriage. He thought London was a place that was somehow unattainable to him. He was made for a slower more contemplative pace. The speed of people, of trains, of life was disconcerting. He hadn’t been prepared for that. He also hadn’t been prepared for the grime. The dust seeped into his pores, up his nose, into his mouth. The glamour he had anticipated was in short supply.
Victoria station was a bustle of activity and he struggled to follow behind Thomas. Thomas obviously knew the station well, he strode forward with a purpose that impressed and intimidated John. Thomas had become one of the sea of people hustling to an unknown destination. John wanted to fit in; he tried hard to copy Thomas’ confidence. He didn’t feel like he succeeded.
The coffee shop they stopped in was an experience. John had frequented the national chains of coffee shops that had sprung up on every street in the UK. But to visit an authentic independent shop was something he’d never done. He felt very cosmopolitan. He felt he was blending into the London life. Mother told him it was the little things that would do that.
Thomas took a phone-call and stepped away from Maria and him. John noticed he was attracting some strange looks from those around him. They must have noticed he looked out of place, he didn’t belong. He felt uncomfortable under their gaze. It reminded him of the home. It was something he hadn’t thought about in years. And yet, here he was hundreds of miles away from his early years; but, he returned there in the blink of an eye.
Luckily, Thomas finished his call, ushered them out and hurried them down the road.
‘Be prepared.’ Mother told him. ‘Your time is coming.’
Westminster Cathedral appeared before him and almost took his breath away. The Gothic structure loomed large over the scurrying people. He was surprised passers-by weren’t paying attention to the beautiful building. He could have stood and drunk in its colour, columns, symbolism, and everything about it for hours. Thomas wasn’t going to let him have the time. He hurried along behind him to the enormous front doors.
He wanted to stop again and take in the spectacle of the entry-way, but again he was drawn relentlessly on. A shadowy figure hustled them into the dimly lit ante-chamber and shut the doors behind them.
The thudding of the wooden barriers behind him seemed to signify the solemnity of the building. John knew it really signified the ending of his old life and the start of a new one.
Chapter Twenty-One
William led the way to the front of the Cathedral. When we got to the altar, I could see there were more people congregated than I’d originally thought. Around twenty men were milling around aimlessly. Some were pacing, some were sitting on the pews and a couple were glued to their phones.
We passed through them and there was a very noticeable change in atmosphere. From a tense relaxation, all eyes turned in our direction, they followed us as we stepped up to the front. The muttered and muted conversations silenced, an air of expectation radiated from the group. Unsurprisingly, we were the reason for them being here.
William turned right at the altar and took us round behind the plinth. He stopped and encouraged us to form a tight circle so he could have a quick word before we were thrown to the throng.
“Thomas.” He said looking at me and shaking my hand. “Great to see you again.”
He looked to my right. “You must be Maria.” He again offered his hand. Maria took it and nodded as she shook it. “I’m William.” He told her.
“Pleasing to meet you.” Maria responded, she looked slightly unsure of herself. I wasn’t sure if it was the imposing structure of the cathedral, or the forcefulness of William that caused her unease.
William disconnected from the handshake and turned his head towards the third member of our party. William stood silently staring at John, looking him up and down, sizing him up.
“John, really happy to meet you.” He said eventually. He stuck out his hand, again, but this time he didn’t thrust it forwards. The movement was slower, more measured, more reverential.
John shook the proffered limb and the delight in William’s eyes at his touch was evident. The thought occurred to me, William had already made up his mind on John. This was my moment, this was why I had been employed. William wanted so badly to believe, it had clouded his judgement already. He’d closed his mind to normal explanations. Considering what I’d seen and experienced the roles should have been reversed, but I was the one thinking clearly, analytically.
“Before I introduce the three of you to the Bishops I need to make you aware of some information.” He paused for dramatic effect.
Maria and I exchanged a glance wondering what he was about to tell us.
“Since yesterday morning I have received numerous videos from around the world that I need to show you.” He took out his phone and started to press and swipe the screen looking for his email app. He focused on the device while he searched for what he was looking for.
“Ah, yes. Here you go.” He turned the screen so we could all see the tiny image playing out in the footage.
A young man dressed in black with a priest’s dog-collar standing out bright white in contrast was talking to a group of women. The shot had been taken from about two or three rows deep in the crowd. They were obviously gathered to hear the religious man speak. I couldn’t understand his words but recognised he was speaking French.
“Dieu n’attend de vous que votre amour.” Came gently from the device’s small speaker.
The figure on the screen stopped at the end of the sentence and stood completely still. After a few seconds, his face rose to the sky and he repeated the same phrase over and over.
“His message will not be silenced. His message will not be silenced.”
The level of noise on the video rose as the crowd murmured to themselves, wondering what was unfolding before them.
William turned the phone back to himself and swiped the video closed. He prodded the screen and turned it back to us as he had before.
Another man, this one older than the first but dressed in the same Catholic uniform was talking to a crowd of people. Again, I didn’t understand the words but this time I didn’t even recognise the language. The sentiment behind the words was the same. They were delivered in the same soft tone as the French video. I briefly wondered if there was a universal Catholic course to learn the earnest whispering that priest’s adopted.
“Vsichni jsme zadani o vice nez toto.”
The scene was again filmed from the point of view of the crowd but this time from the front row.
Like the first video the holy man stopped and stared blankly at the audience in front of him. It was obvious from the close-up on his face he was not focused on the people, but at a point far in the distance, beyond his own physical location. His mouth opened and he repeated the same five words over and over.
“His message will be heard. His message will be heard. His message will be heard.”
William turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket.
“These videos started to arrive in my inbox around lunchtime yesterday. I have many more I could show you, but they’re all fairly similar. Foreign priests speaking their native language and then repeating words in English.”
“Father Hernandez.” Maria whispered.
“Yes.” William agreed. “It’s a similar story. I assume you found John yesterday morning.”
“About ten-thirty.” I agreed.
“Then the timings are right. The moment you met him, these priests were possessed by God’s word.”
I felt it was my job to reign him in and come up with a rational explanation; but I couldn’t. My mind was reeling trying to take in the information I was being bombarded with. On top of the previous night’s escapade I was being swept along on a tide of the unexplained.
“We need to talk to the Bishops and introduce them to John.” William told us. He turned away from our circle and strode round the altar to address his colleagues.
Maria shot me a look of bewilderment, she was no closer to an explanation than me.
William gestured to the group to take a seat and the ones who were still standing quickly complied.
“Friends, thank-you for coming here at such short notice.” William announced. The Bishops nodded and smiled at their own obedience. “We have all by now been sent videos and stories of our colleagues from around the world.”
A murmur of conversation broke out as they all spoke together. Agreeing and comparing their own strange texts and phone conversations, relating the unbelievable tales.
William gestured for quiet, the noise abated.
“Well, my right-hand man, Thomas.” He turned and looked in my direction. Instinctively I raised my hand to identify myself. I wasn’t sure I would have described myself as a ‘right-hand man’ as in my mind that normally meant assistant or something similar. I bristled momentarily at the description but then thought the alternatives; ‘miracle hunter’, ‘miracle debunker’, ‘professional sceptic’ were just as alien in William’s mouth as they were in mine.
“He’s been on a mission for me.” I would have described it as doing my job, but I knew corporate speak when I heard it. I kept my opinion to myself. “He’s been to South America to track down a prophecy made twenty-five years ago. His adventure ties in with what we have seen in the last twenty-four hours.”
The men in the pews sat up straighter. The focus on their faces grew sharper as they were given this new information.
“Thomas followed the clues with his colleague Maria.” The eyes flicked briefly to Maria and then returned their rapt attention back to William. “And they believe they have discovered a gift from God.”
I opened my mouth to contradict him, I’d made no such claim. William carried on his speech, talking over the top of my potential disagreement.
“John Byrne’s birth was predicted by a priest in Venezuela, half a world away from where he was actually born in the North-West of England. His birth was considered a medical miracle and he has been carrying out God’s good works his whole life. He has worked with the sick, the elderly and the dying and been giving solace and hope to those without any for the last seven years.”
All eyes turned to John and they took in the ordinary looking young man in front of them. I could see them trying to connect him to the words that William had said. William allowed them a moment to assimilate the information he was giving them. And then he blustered on, enjoying his moment, enjoying the attention he was receiving, enjoying the adulation he imagined was coming his way.
“Thomas tell them what you told me about your first meeting with John.” William patted his side as a hint to let me know he wanted them to know about the ‘healing’.
I stepped up to the altar and leant on its hard, cold surface using it as a barrier and a crutch to help me speak to the group in front of me. I looked at John and could see the confusion on his face. He knew nothing of the prophecy. I assumed the news of his miracle birth had also come as a bit of a surprise. I was slightly uncomfortable talking about him as if he wasn’t here. However, I was being put in a position that left me with no viable alternatives.
“Maria and I found John at around ten-thirty yesterday morning.” The faces in front of me were hanging on every word. A few of them realised the significance of the time and a whisper passed around the group. “He was working in an old-people’s home. He knew Maria and I were coming and greeted us by name, even though we’d never met him before.” The whisper rippled round them again. “We spoke to him about his history and his growing up. As we left, John touched my side, more specifically a scar I’ve had for the past couple of years. This scar always caused me pain. It hasn’t hurt or ached since he touched it.”
I said the last sentence looking directly at John. I knew he had no knowledge of this; I hadn’t told him. I hoped my expression conveyed my gratitude. The confusion was still on John’s face. I felt immense sympathy for him at having to find this out in this way. I wished I’d prepared him for the information he was receiving. This was meant to be a simple meeting with William as an introduction, not the public announcement that William had made it. I couldn’t look at John anymore. I felt ashamed at what I was putting him through, even though I’d had no way of knowing it was coming. I noticed Maria was holding John’s hand, I hoped it was giving him the support he needed.
My phone beeped from my pocket. I ignored it focusing instead on trying to apologise to John with a look. I turned away from John to look back at my audience, there was absolute attention focused on myself and John. I recognised Peter sat in the front row, he looked up at me with a massive smile on his face. As he saw the recognition in my eyes, he lifted his eyebrows in a silent acknowledgement and greeting.
I had nothing more to tell the group; the silence flourished. William filled the growing void.
“Gentleman I present to you John Byrne.”
3 John
John trailed behind Thomas, Maria, and the shadowy figure. He wanted time to admire the majesty of the building he was walking through, but he was dragged inexorably forward by the movement of his companions.
‘That’s William.’ Mother told him. ‘Archbishop of London.’ The unknown figure now had a name and a title. John didn’t think he’d ever met an Archbishop. He hoped he didn’t embarrass himself in front of such an important person.
William led them behind the altar and John felt slightly uncomfortable. It was as if he’d passed through an invisible barrier that somehow should have been labelled ‘Staff Only’. He felt he was peaking behind the curtain, lifting the mask, learning the secrets. He shouldn’t be this side of the altar. It was like finding yourself behind the counter of a shop, you could do it; you just didn’t. Thomas and Maria didn’t seem to be phased by it, so he tried to put on a demeanour letting everyone know he belonged in this worldly group.
The four of them formed a square, one on each corner. William shook Thomas’ hand and introduced himself to Maria. Then a noticeable pause as he looked John up and down.
‘He knows.’ John thought. ‘He knows, I don’t belong here.’
Mother calmed him and told him to wait, all would become clear very shortly.
William shook John’s hand and introduced himself. John didn’t know what to say, so remained silent.
William spoke to the three of them. John struggled to make sense of what he was being told. William showed them some videos on his phone that made even less sense to him. Somehow foreign speaking priests were speaking in English talking about a man who had a message that needed to be heard. John still wasn’t sure what his part in this unfolding drama was.
Thomas told William they had found John at ten-thirty the previous day and William confirmed the timings matched. Cogs started to turn in John’s mind. Connections started to be made.
There had to be a mistake.
He couldn’t be. Could he?
The fear that filled him was almost visceral. He wanted to run. He wanted to go back to Manchester. He wanted to be with his friends in Auden House. He wanted all of that, but he was trapped. He had been transported here, he didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know anybody. There was no escape.
Gently a hand touched his arm. He looked down and saw Maria reaching for him. She must have realised the revelation John was coming to. Her hand moved from his forearm and she slid his hand into hers. Gemma had been the only woman to hold his hand in this way. This time though it felt different. Maria was smiling at him and the peace that radiated from her calmed him. Maria squeezed his hand
and he realised he wasn’t alone.
John was consumed with the thought that Thomas and Maria had tricked him. They’d not told him why they needed him. Maria’s touch told him she was sorry, she would help him.
William moved around the altar, addressing the men who had gathered in the pews. Again, the words he said were alien to him, he didn’t know any of this.
Prophecy.
Miracle birth.
God’s good works.
What was he talking about?
Thomas addressed the group and he told a story about healing an old wound. All John had done was what he’d always done. He’d helped those that needed it most. He sensed what was required and he helped. That was how things were meant to work. Wasn’t it?
John looked at Thomas in astonishment, why hadn’t he told him?
Thomas finished the story and looked at John. John could see the sorrow in John’s eyes, he could sense the apology that was silent on his lips but was loud in his heart. John forgave him, he could see the pain this had caused Thomas.
All through the noiseless exchange John could feel Maria’s hand in his and as it was supposed to, it gave him strength and kept him anchored to reality.
John’s gaze lifted as he heard William say his name and noticed every pair of eyes was turned in his direction. The expectation and wonder behind them were obvious. He froze under their examination. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to behave.
What did they expect from him?
‘Be yourself.’ Mother told him. ‘Speak from the heart. Remember I love you.’
He gripped Maria’s hand and she gripped back.
He hoped she would never let it go.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I stood still where I was and allowed the noise that erupted from the pews to crash over me. I caught snippets but they were all asking the same questions: who, what, how and why. I wished I had answers, but I couldn’t come up with anything satisfactory.
