by Pam Rhodes
“You’re welcome, if you’d like to come.”
“I’d love to.”
“But you’re busy… Please don’t feel you have to.”
“What time?”
“About five? Will that be OK?”
“I promise to be completely awake by then.”
Claire’s face softened into a warm smile. “Thank you. Sam will love it if you come.”
“Bye then, birthday girl. See you later.” And Neil waited at the door until Sam got so far down the road that he had to stop looking backwards to wave to Neil, and start watching where he was going.
Coffee. That’s what Neil needed. Coffee to clear his head and sort out his muddled thoughts. He switched on the kettle, then sat down abruptly as he remembered that last kiss he’d shared with Wendy. Leaning forward, he folded his arms on the kitchen table so that he could lay down his aching head. The problem was, what to do next? How ethical was it for a young man of the cloth to get involved with a member of his flock? More importantly, how did he feel about the possibility of being in a relationship with Wendy? He recognized that, whatever happened, he must be up front and honest about his feelings. He couldn’t be seen to be playing with her affections. Then again, was she playing with his? How serious was she about him? Was this just a bit of fun for her?
His mother thought Wendy was wonderful, and for once Neil had to agree with her. Wendy was bright, beautiful and charming, an asset on the arm of any man. So, was she “the One”? And was he ready to find that “someone special” right now? He looked round at his house, which was neat as a pin with everything in its place. He was definitely a bit set in his ways, he knew that. He also recognized that a woman’s touch, both on his home and on him, might do a great deal of good.
He sighed. Relationships had never come easy to him. Was that because he was an only child, as he had explained to Wendy the evening before? Was it because his parents’ marriage had always seemed functional and unemotional to him, to the degree that he had begun to doubt whether close relationships could ever really work without one or the other partner feeling they were compromised? Was he capable of promising himself to one person for the whole of his lifetime? How daunting a prospect was that!
Oh, for heaven’s sake, he thought suddenly, how could he possibly be thinking about promising himself to one person for life when all Wendy and he had shared until now was a kiss? How much could that mean – even if one of the friends was a minister? And, who knows, perhaps Wendy too might be thinking better of their liaison in the cold light of morning?
Before he knew it, his questions gradually became prayers, as he opened his heart to share the challenges and blessings of his life with the Lord. And as he prayed, his head still on his arms on the kitchen table, he must have nodded off again, because that was where he woke up, stiff-necked and uncomfortable, two hours later.
It was just a few minutes past five when Neil’s knock resulted in Claire’s door being yanked open by a very excited Sam.
“She’s in the kitchen!” Sam caught sight of the bag Neil was carrying. “Have you brought presents? Mum, Neil’s brought presents!”
“You didn’t need to do that,” smiled Claire, as she came through with a smudge of something that could have been butter amongst the freckles which were dotted across the bridge of her nose. “I told you I don’t make much of birthdays.”
Neil looked down at Sam who was bouncing at his side, trying to take the carrier bag from him.
“He does, though! Actually, I have to own up and say I’m not very good at this present business, so if you think this is really inappropriate, please say so. I won’t be offended!”
“I’m just thrilled that you thought to do anything,” grinned Claire.
“Right, Sam, I need your help!” instructed Neil. “Mummy, would you please go back in the kitchen, and then Sam will tell you when you can come into the front room.”
Sam was beside himself with excitement as the two of them went through to the lounge, making sure the door was securely shut behind them. Out of the carrier bag, Neil pulled a pot of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.
“That’s her favourite! How did you know that’s her favourite?”
“I know she likes ice cream. I just hoped she likes chocolate ice cream.”
“I do!”
“Well, that’s all right, then! I know you and Mum have been baking, so there was no point me bringing a cake – but we’ve got to have something to put candles in, haven’t we?”
Sam clapped his hands with glee as Neil opened the box of candles and holders before inviting the small boy to push several of them into the lid of the ice cream tub in a haphazard pattern. Carefully, Neil lit them all, then Sam yelled at the top of his voice that Mummy could come in.
Claire’s face was a picture as she laughed with delight to see her ice cream birthday “cake”. Neil wished he’d thought to bring a camera to capture forever her expression of pure happiness as she blew out the candles. There was something about the combination of strength and vulnerability in her that touched him deeply. They may have got off to a sticky start, but Neil realized, as he looked at this lovely young woman with her spiky hair and freckled nose, that her friendship had come to mean a lot to him.
“What else have you got in the bag?” Sam demanded to know.
“Well,” said Neil, “I thought you might not have had time to make red jelly – and you can’t have a birthday without red jelly, can you?” He drew out a covered plastic bowl of jelly which he had plainly picked up at the supermarket, along with another containing a gooey butterscotch mousse.
“Yum!” said Claire. “You certainly know how to treat a girl!”
“And there’s this,” Neil continued, “but I’m hopeless at wrapping, so I’m sorry it’s still in the plastic bag.”
Claire peered into the bag, then pulled out a small, pink book, its cover an explosion of the most gorgeous-looking cupcakes.
“You know how to make cupcakes, of course – but this is full of ideas of the different sorts you can conjure up.” Neil hesitated. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t quite sure…”
Claire’s hazel eyes sparkled with delight as she stepped forward to give Neil a hug.
“I love it,” she said simply, and she stayed where she was in Neil’s arms for several seconds before, with slight embarrassment, she pulled away.
“And,” Neil went on, looking down at Sam, “I thought that even though it’s Mummy’s birthday, you might need an un-birthday present.”
Sam caught on quickly that this might mean something nice was about to come his way and, full of curiosity, he stood on tiptoes to try to peer into the bag. Neil pulled out a brightly coloured box.
“You like looking after animals, is that right?”
Sam nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, in this box, there are some friends for you to look after. It’s a Sea Zoo. Do you know what that is?”
Sam plainly had no idea.
“Well, we have to fill the little aquarium with water, and put the right chemicals in it. And then, in here is a packet of eggs…”
“Are we growing chickens?”
“No,” Neil laughed. “These will be tiny little shrimps. Do you know what they are? Look, there’s a picture on the side of the box.”
Sam studied the illustration with interest.
“How many will there be?”
“I’m not sure. Quite a few, I expect. It depends how well you look after them. You’ll have to look very carefully for when they hatch, and count them every day.”
Across Sam’s head, Claire smiled at him as she silently mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Well,” she said to Sam, “why don’t you and Neil go and set the Zoo up on the window-sill in your room, and I’ll get tea organized.”
It was a long time since Neil had enjoyed a meal so much. There were triangular sandwiches filled with old favourites like chocolate spread, sardine-and-tomato paste, cream cheese and Marmite. Th
ere were iced gems, cheese straws and sausages on sticks. And, of course, the red jelly, butterscotch mousse and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream topped the whole thing off nicely. An hour and a half later, the washing up done, Claire, Harry and Neil sank into the lounge chairs swearing that they’d never eat again!
“Are you as busy as ever in the garden, Harry?” asked Neil. “What does a gardener do at this time of year?”
“Grow vegetables, mainly. The Brussels just need a touch of frost and they’ll be great for Christmas. Most of the other vegetable beds have been cleared now, but I have a good stock of onions, carrots and potatoes stored away in the shed.”
“And you, Claire? Are everybody else’s gardens keeping you busy enough?”
“It’s mainly tidying up beds and pruning right now. It’s sad to see the last of the summer flowers, but I love all the berries on the trees at this time of year.”
“It’s a hard job. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of nature and how it changes all the time? Bored of the seasons, with their glorious colours and smells? Fed up with the sense of triumph I feel when I plant a small seed that eventually becomes a golden chrysanth or a loaded tomato plant? I could never tire of that – ever!”
Neil smiled. “You sound almost like a Christian talking about creation.”
She crinkled her nose to pull a face. “I wouldn’t put it in those terms, naturally…”
“Of course not.”
“… but I can appreciate what they feel.”
“But don’t you ever look at the detail on a flower or leaf, or marvel at the rhythm of the seasons and the colours they bring – and wonder how it all got there?”
“Science. Evolution.”
“But what created science and evolution? Surely such perfection couldn’t have come from nothing? There has to be a power behind it all…”
“Can’t see it, myself.”
“And I can’t look at all of that and see anything but the hand of God.”
“There’s no such thing. That’s just a human need to romanticize what, years ago, they simply couldn’t explain any other way.”
“And you can only believe what you can see and touch and prove? Is that it?”
“Exactly. The answer lies in the natural evolution of science and nature. That’s a proven fact.”
“I remember,” interrupted Harry, “someone explaining it to me like this. Imagine you are driving a car on a dark night. You have your headlights on, so that you can see everything you need to know in the arc of light ahead of you. You see people and houses and life along the road. But if you can only believe what you can see and prove, what about everything that lies in the darkness alongside and behind the car? Are you saying that because you can’t see it, there is nothing there? Doesn’t your instinct tell you that there’s all sorts of life going on out there in the darkness, whether or not you can see and prove it? That’s how faith is for me. I instinctively know that God is there. At the darkest times, when I am at my lowest ebb or my most doubtful, God is still there – beyond my vision, but alongside me, carrying me, caring for me.”
Neil nodded in agreement, whilst Claire quietly thought through Harry’s argument. Suddenly she smiled.
“My, we’ve got very deep. Anyone need a cup of tea? Then I really should think about getting Sam to bed. He’ll probably be up half the night with his torch, looking for shrimps!”
Following the gathering for Lily’s funeral, her family spent several hours of conversation and soul-searching as they considered the best options for Elsie, now she was on her own following the death of her beloved sister. As a result, it was during the first week of December, just six weeks after Lily’s death, that the family gathered again to oversee what they hoped was the sensible decision to move her into Dale Court, an imposing Victorian house in its own grounds which had been extended to provide individual en suite rooms for thirty elderly residents. Elsie didn’t want to go, but when one family member after another, along with a dizzying collection of doctors, social workers and well-meaning friends, came to the flat to make her see the error of her ways, she finally gave in. Neil, who visited her every other day if he could, often with Margaret, but equally often on his own – not because he had to, but because he really wanted to – watched sadly as the grand old lady’s home was packed up around her, with a small pile of boxes labelled to accompany her to her new address, and a roomful of other bits and pieces which were gradually distributed between family members, or destined for the charity shop.
In fact, her new room may not have been the largest at Dale Court, but it had one of the nicest views of the rockery and the imposing chestnut trees that lined the side of the house. Every time after that when Neil visited, he would find Elsie sitting forlornly in a high-backed hi-tech armchair which could be electrically extended in ways which didn’t hold any interest for her at all. She sat looking out of the window, not really seeing, locked in her own thoughts and memories. It was as if the life had been sucked out of her. The staff marvelled at how healthy and able she was, especially at the wonderful age of ninety-six, but her physical health was irrelevant to her now. She had nothing to get out of bed for, except to sit in the chair and stare out towards the light beyond the window. She showed little enthusiasm for food. She smiled when visitors came, but played no part in their conversation, so that several who’d visited when she first arrived found excuses not to come again. It was as if, for many people, she had been put safely on the shelf – out of sight, and mostly out of mind. Neil found himself moved to tears every time he saw her.
He soon realized that the only speaking which drew her interest was prayer. Sometimes he would take the Eucharist set with him so that they could break bread and share wine together. Sometimes, they would just sit side by side, each of them occasionally saying something out loud which would be followed by prayerful silence. For Neil, it was an intensely spiritual experience, humbled as he was by the achievements of Elsie and Lily during their long lives devoted to the God they loved. He hoped to be able to show the same devotion throughout his own life. Instinctively Elsie knew that, as she often included a prayer for his ministry in their worship together.
Mostly they were not alone in their devotions. Margaret joined them when she could, and occasionally Val, the palliative care nurse who had known Elsie and Lily through the church for many years, would be with them too, or would pop in at a time later in the day which suited her better. There were occasions when Neil found himself silently praying for Val during his times at Dale Court – for Val and Peter Fellowes, who had found contentment in the company of each other, even though Peter was not a free man, and never could be.
He prayed for his other parishioners too – for the elderly and disabled people whose homes he visited with the Eucharist; for the young mum at the playgroup whose husband was so tragically ill; for the choir and the servers; for the organist and musicians; for the elderly regulars and the young families; for Frank, who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to support Margaret in her role of spiritual leader in the community; for Harry, who missed his wife so much; for Sam, who didn’t know his father; and for Claire – brave, capable Claire who faced everything life brought her way by rolling up her sleeves and dealing with it. He prayed for his mother, although he seriously doubted that her soul could ever quite be redeemed – and he prayed for Wendy.
In the weeks that had followed the bowling night, he still felt very muddled. Wendy was much more open about her feelings, often appearing beside him, slipping her hand into his or putting her arm around his waist. His natural shyness made him want to be more reserved when they were in the company of others, but Wendy seemed proud and delighted to be seen at his side. He noticed how the word “we” crept into her vocabulary whenever he was around – and he thought he probably liked that, almost as much as he liked the times they were alone, when the prim music teacher and church group leader transformed into a teasing minx who left his emotions and reactions in
turmoil. Not that anything inappropriate had happened between them. The main reason for that, of course, was the faith they shared that required them to wait until marriage before there could be any intimacy between them. His instinct was that he felt stronger about that than Wendy did, because she seemed to enjoy tempting him to waver on his resolve. But Neil also recognized that within himself, he was just not certain enough about what Wendy meant to him, and what he wanted to mean to her. It was all happening so fast, especially as he sensed that some of the congregation were beginning to think of them as a couple – and without a doubt they were, in Wendy’s mind at least.
But how did he feel? Was he falling in love with her? That was the important question, of course, because if he wasn’t, then he was wrong to let the relationship continue on the course it was inevitably taking. He was allowing her to make assumptions about her role in his life. She was making plans about places they might visit together, friends they could spend time with, holidays they might both enjoy. He felt as if he’d climbed on to one of those moving walkways that helped you travel with your luggage at airports. It seemed to stretch out ahead of him with no easy exit in sight. Was he looking for a way out? Was that what he really wanted?
So the daily quiet time he spent with Elsie became a welcome oasis when he could think, pray and enjoy the company of the elderly lady of whom he was becoming increasingly fond.
His thoughts were broken by the arrival of one of the nursing staff carrying a tray for Elsie. He winced as he listened to the patronizing tone of the conversation that followed.
“Come on, Elsie, it’s time for your tea, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of that chair now, and over to the table. Come on, darling, it’s your favourite – macaroni cheese. You like macaroni cheese, don’t you?”
Neil’s heart bled for Elsie, the proud and cultured woman who had achieved so much in her life, whose circumstances had been reduced to being spoken to as if she were a naughty five-year-old. He immediately got up and told the nurse he would make sure Elsie got her tea – but he knew that although he was here to save Elsie’s dignity today, tomorrow and every day after that, she would be petted and patronized again. He would have a word with the matron on his way out – but would it really make any difference? Elsie was certainly not mistreated – quite the opposite, in that her every need seemed to be catered for. It was the just the loss of her independence that he mourned for on her behalf.
