Fisher of Men

by Pam Rhodes

  “Yours too.”

  She looked down for a moment, lost in thought – then she grinned up at him.

  “Or perhaps it was Auntie Rose telling me to pull myself together?”

  He chuckled. “Probably!”

  “Neil,” she started, her voice hesitant. “I may never get a chance like this again, so I’ll say it now. When I discovered Harry last night, and everything was so awful and frightening, you were the first person I thought of. No one else could have been better company. You’ve been wonderful.”

  There was real warmth in his eyes as he looked at her.

  “So are you.”

  “And I might regret saying this in the cold light of day…”

  Claire looked down, as if she was nervous to hold his gaze.

  “… but we’ve learned a lot about each other tonight, about our weaknesses and our strengths too. I’ve never felt so inadequate and helpless – and yet there you are, caring and unconditionally supportive. I’ll never forget that, never.”

  “I’m just so glad you didn’t try to go through this on your own, that you allowed me to share it with you.”

  “I’m not good at relationships. I prefer not to let people get too close, especially since…”

  “Since Sam’s dad?”

  She nodded.

  “Who can blame you? He let you down badly.”

  “And it’s difficult to trust anyone again after something like that. I’ve just not bothered with people much.”

  “You prefer flowers and plants.”

  “Yes, I do. But that’s not right, is it? I need to learn to trust again – and I’m learning that from you, Neil. With your gentleness, your sensitivity – even your nerves and awkwardness…”

  “Thanks!” he smiled.

  “… you’re breaking down my barriers. You’re getting through.”

  “I’m glad.”

  There was an earnestness in her expression as she looked at him. “Look, just remember, when you think about this later, that I’m tired and emotional right now, and I’ll probably regret saying this. In fact, why don’t I just shut up, because I’m all over the place at the moment?”

  She hesitated. “It’s just that…”

  “What?” he prompted gently.

  “Something happens to me when I’m with you, something warm and comforting and wonderful – and the only word I can think of to describe it is… love.”

  Surprised at her frankness, he took a sharp intake of breath, staring at her wordlessly as time stood still between them. Then he felt himself move almost in slow motion towards her until their lips met in a kiss of need and want and longing. And when it was over, they pulled back, holding their gaze as if they couldn’t believe what was happening or the feeling that had sparked between them. There was no world beyond this, nothing else that mattered. In that moment, it was not just their hands that reached out to touch and hold, but their hearts.

  Finally Neil spoke, his voice shaking with emotion.

  “Love?” he whispered. “God help us, Claire, but I know what you mean. I feel it too.”

  They went back to the Intensive Care Unit and sat close together on the lumpy settee to one side of the central area. Nursing staff constantly went in and out of Harry’s room, monitoring and checking his progress. Then, at around two o’clock, the consultant who’d performed the operation came to check on Harry, then crossed to talk to them.

  “Well, he seems to be holding his own.”

  Neil felt the tension drop from Claire as her body slumped against him. “Is he out of danger?”

  “The worst is probably over, although he’s still a very sick man. The operation went well, though, and if he continues to improve as he has so far, I think he might have a much healthier, more comfortable life ahead.”

  “Do you mean that he’s probably not been well for a while?”

  “I think that’s probably the case, but he may not have realized why he wasn’t really feeling up to par. He might just have put it down to getting older.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “Well, I think we’ll be bringing him round quite soon and then, once we’re sure he’s stable, we can get him down to the normal ward, perhaps tomorrow morning. After that, it’s just a question of recuperating, physio and getting him home again.”

  Tears of relief shone on Claire’s cheeks.

  “Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much.”

  “Well, let’s see about bringing him back into the land of the living, shall we?”

  Calling over one of the nurses, the consultant disappeared once again into Harry’s cubicle. The ten minutes that ticked by before anyone appeared again seemed more like ten hours – but eventually the nurse popped her head around the door and beckoned them in.

  “You can come in for just a minute, no more,” she said, guiding them over to the left-hand side of the bed, since Harry’s head was facing that way.

  “Uncle Harry?” whispered Claire, bending down until she was level with his face. “Uncle Harry, can you hear me?”

  Harry stirred, plainly disorientated and uncertain where he was, but finally his rheumy eyes focused on Claire beside him. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “What happened?” His voice sounded raspy and hoarse, probably because of the tubes that had been stuffed down his throat during the operation.

  “You had a heart attack. You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  “How am I doing?”

  “I’m delighted to say you’ll live! You had a bypass operation this morning, and so far everything looks good.”

  “That explains it then,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “Explains what?” asked Claire.

  “Why Rose was here nagging me.”

  Claire stared at him in amazement.

  “Sent me back, though – for you and Sam.”

  “So?” asked Claire softly. “Did you tell her? Did you say what you wanted her to know?”

  He gave the slightest of nods. “Told me I was daft. Said she always knew…”

  “There! You needn’t have worried after all.”

  “I won’t any more,” he sighed, closing his eyes again and sinking back into sleep.

  Things moved fast after that. Claire’s mum and step-dad arrived after a long and hurried drive down from Scarborough, and Neil looked on gratefully as they engulfed Claire in their love and caring concern. This was his cue to leave. After all, it was an important time for him, the start of his three days of retreat in preparation for his ordination on Saturday. Wendy would be arriving at the house in just two hours’ time at five o’clock to drive him down to join the other ordinands at the retreat centre near St Albans. There was a lot to do before then. He knew he needed to go.

  Wendy…. Since that moment with Claire earlier in the afternoon, the one that had turned his world completely upside down, he had struggled to keep thoughts of Wendy to the back of his mind. Wonderful, supportive, talented Wendy who loved him so loyally – and trusted him too. What sort of man was he? Untrustworthy, unfaithful? And knowing that, how could he possibly go on to become a priest when his emotions were torn in two directions?

  Guilt pricked at his conscience – and yet, he knew that the long and worrying hours Claire and he had just spent together had simply brought to the surface feelings that had probably been there for months. Ever since that kiss at Christmas, he’d wondered – and yet he’d deliberately denied himself the suggestion that Claire might actually care for him in any way beyond friendship – or, even more importantly, that he should care for her in return. After all, they were so different. Their situation, their beliefs, their goals in life were worlds apart. Why, then, had they felt such closeness and empathy there at the hospital? They had spoken of love – and yet what did that mean? What sort of love was this? A love that demanded a lifetime’s commitment – or was it simply the deep and enduring love that very dear friends could feel for one another?

  As the thoughts
tumbled round his exhausted brain, he shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t think straight just at the moment. Perhaps after some sleep? But not now – not with Harry ill, Claire’s parents there, the ordination looming and Wendy picking him up in two hours’ time…

  He picked up his jacket and hovered to one side of Claire, hoping to catch her attention as she chatted to her parents. Excusing herself, she followed him round the corner where they could speak privately.

  “Harry seems to be holding his own, doesn’t he?” started Neil. “After all he’s been through…”

  “It’s such a relief. When I found him last night, I really thought we were going to lose him.”

  Neil nodded, remembering how shocked he’d been by Harry’s almost deathly pale complexion when he’d first seen him the night before.

  “Well, we know he’s in good hands. I’ll hold on to that while I’m on retreat. It will be hard not to hear any news about him until after Saturday. We’ll be cut off from the world until then.”

  “Well, you need to get going. You must have so much to do.” Claire’s voice became unnaturally business-like. “What time do you leave?”

  “Wendy’s picking me up in two hours for the drive down to St Albans.”

  “Good. That’s nice of her. She’s a lovely person, Neil. I know that. I do understand your situation. You’re with Wendy, and that’s where you belong.”

  His face wretched, Neil nodded in silent agreement until finally he put into words the question that hung between them.

  “So what happened between us just now?”

  Her fingers entwined with his.

  “We’re both exhausted. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster.”

  He looked closely at her. “The heat of the moment, do you mean? Do you think that’s all it was?”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Claire, I…”

  “Sshh…”

  He stopped, recognizing that there was so much to say – but not now. Instead, she tipped her head towards him so that her forehead leaned against his chin.

  “I’ll be thinking of you on Saturday,” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  “See you when you get back.”

  “Yes.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Claire. Take care of you.”

  At exactly five to five, Wendy’s red Clio pulled up outside, and Neil opened the front door to let her in. His bag was packed and ready to go, and his robes were hanging in a cover draped over the hall banister. He took one last look around to make sure he’d not forgotten anything.

  “Locked the back door?” Wendy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Got the forms you had to fill in?”

  “All done and in my briefcase.”

  “And you’ve definitely remembered everything you need to wear on the day?”

  “I think so.”

  “Clean socks?”

  “Four pairs, and I’ll only be gone three days!”

  “Right then, let’s go!”

  Wendy strode on ahead carrying his robes whilst he deadlocked the door and followed on towards her car.

  “Oy!”

  Alf had suddenly appeared from nowhere, and was staring accusingly at Wendy who had just climbed into the driving seat and slammed the door.

  “She stood on my flowers!”

  Puzzled, Neil followed Alf’s stare, wondering what flowers he was talking about. All he could see were a few small, bedraggled dandelion heads peeping out amongst the grass verge at the edge of the pavement.

  “My dandelions! She stood on them!”

  “Oh, Alf, we’re so sorry. She didn’t realize they were there.”

  Alf continued to look pointedly towards Wendy, saying nothing.

  “Anyway, Alf,” Neil continued, hoping a change of subject might change his mood, “wish me luck because when you see me again, I’ll be a fully fledged priest! I’m going off to my ordination now.”

  There was no reaction at all from Alf.

  “Well, give my regards to Maureen. Is she with you today? I expect so. I’ll be off now then, Alf. Goodbye!”

  It wasn’t until Neil was just bending to climb into the passenger seat that he heard Alf finally shout out an answer.

  “And good riddance!”

  Neil clambered into the car and slammed the door shut, expecting Wendy to drive off immediately. She did put the key in the ignition, but instead of starting the engine, she turned to look at him, a warm smile on her face.

  “You OK?” she asked. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I am – but I’ll be fine. As you say, I’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”

  “Well,” she said, reaching over to take his hand in hers, “as we won’t be able to speak again until after the service, I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You’re a special man, Neil, and so very dear to me. I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you well while you’re away on retreat – and I will be the one praying most and cheering loudest for you on the day. I hope it’s a truly moving experience for you.”

  Tears pricked at Neil’s eyes as he looked at her. She understood his vocation and sense of calling so perfectly. She always had. She was right at the heart of the church community which had become his home and family. She supported and encouraged and inspired him… and yet… and yet…

  “Right!” she said suddenly, turning back to start the engine. “We’d better get going!”

  Wendy checked the mirror as she drew the small car away from the kerb outside his house and drove off down Vicarage Gardens. Number 96 faded behind them as Neil peered beyond Wendy through her driver’s window to look at Number 80 as they drove by. How quiet and empty the house must be without Harry, Claire and Sam within its walls. Warmth and love – that’s what they brought to the home they shared. Warmth and love, thought Neil as he stared past Wendy’s face to look out the window – that’s what they’d all brought to his life too.

  At that moment, Wendy turned towards him, smiling with such sweetness and affection that Neil caught his breath.

  “Shall I put the radio on?” she asked, leaning down to select the station. “We’re just in time for the News.”

  They turned left at the top of the road in front of St Stephen’s Church, then drove through the Market Square and out of town towards the motorway.

  Neil Fisher’s misadventures continue in:

  CASTING THE NET

  Also by Pam Rhodes:

  WITH HEARTS AND HYMNS AND VOICES

  When the BBC “Songs of Praise” team decides to broadcast a Palm Sunday service from a small idyllic Suffolk village, not everyone is happy.

  The vicar, Clive, is amiably absent-minded, but his practical wife Helen gets on well with the television team – perhaps a little too well, where the charming, enigmatic Michael is concerned. Charles, the Parish Council chairman, is deeply opposed and resents the enthusiasm of other villagers – including his wife Betty. As the outside broadcast vehicles roll in, the emotional temperature rises…

  “Very moving, very powerful intimate moments… I really did enjoy it.”

  – Lynn Parsons, BBC Radio 2

  “Very readable … Warm and witty.”

  – Woman’s Weekly

  “Ambitions and emotions run high…”

  – Family Circle Magazine

  “A gripping story which touches some very basic emotions… Captures wonderfully the two extremes of village life… This is very powerful stuff.”

  – Barbara Erskine

  ISBN: 978 1 85424 975 3 | e-ISBN: 978 0 85721 074 6

 

 

 
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