by Steven Croft
‘The thing is, we very much hope that, when the time comes to, you know, get married, do the honourable thing, we very much want it to be a church wedding.’
‘But it needs to be soon,’ said Dorothy, ‘before things show. I need to be able to hold my head up in church.’
‘Mum!’ said Josie. ‘We’ve not had time to talk it through, have we, Sam?’ Her voice cracked a little.
‘Can I say something?’ said Sam, coughing.
‘Yes, of course, lad. Go ahead,’ said Roger, slightly surprised that he had a contribution to make.
Sam cleared his throat, feeling very young all of a sudden. ‘First, I want to say thankyou for your welcome, in the circumstances. Perhaps I’ve not been the most responsible person in the past, but I want to put that behind me.’
‘Bit late for that,’ said Dorothy to her handbag.
‘Let him finish,’ said Roger.
‘I love Josie very much,’ said Sam, getting into his stride and taking Josie’s hand. ‘And I intend to stand by her and by our – er – the twins. We’ve talked about getting married and we want to do that. We think it’s the right thing to do.’
‘So we can talk dates, then?’ said Dorothy, brightening and looking at him.
‘Not just yet,’ said Sam, trying to sound firm. ‘Josie and I will need to make our own decisions about where we get married and when. Josie is clear that she doesn’t want the wedding to be in your church.’
‘But you don’t know anywhere else,’ said Roger.
‘Well, there’s a church round the corner from where I live,’ said Sam. ‘I took my niece along two weeks ago. We’re going back tomorrow for the carol service. That’s what we’re thinking at the moment. Something simple.’
Roger and Dorothy looked at each other for a moment and seemed to reach an understanding. Dorothy shrugged her shoulders.
‘Well,’ said Roger, smiling. ‘I think the dinner’s ready. Come on through and you can tell us a bit about what kind of work you do.’
***********
Just after three, Sam took his leave of Roger and Dorothy. The meal was a bit of an ordeal: the vegetables were overcooked and the meat was chewy but he managed to ask for seconds of apple crumble and Dorothy had obviously made an effort. The conversation stuttered along but kept going, more or less. Sam had helped with the washing up. Even Dorothy had begun to thaw out a little by the end.
Josie walked him to the car. ‘You were wonderful,’ she said. ‘I never imagined you could be like that.’
‘Least I could do,’ said Sam. ‘Will you be OK?’
‘Absolutely. You get back to Alice. I’d best stay here.’
Megs and Andrew were staying near Luton overnight to check on Grandad and bring him back first thing on Christmas Eve. Andrew wouldn’t hear of Megs hiring a car and driving over on her own. Neither Sam nor Josie begrudged Megs a night away. Both of them liked Andrew very much and even Alice was coming to terms with what was happening.
‘See you tomorrow. Love you.’
As Sam parked in his usual place at the back of the house, his phone announced there was a message. Sure enough: the code.
Alice was waiting for him inside. ‘How did it go?’
‘Grim at first but alright in the end. How about you?’
‘Started well but ended badly. Nick teased me about going to church so I mentioned Mum’s new boyfriend. That put him in a really bad mood. Then I spent lots of his money.’
‘Well done. Code’s arrived.’
‘Perfect timing. Mum and Andrew left ten minutes ago.’
The new door looked like a metal hatch leading underground. Alice punched in the code as Sam read it aloud: ‘Four, two, colon, three.’ The instant she pressed the final number, the doorbell rang.
‘I didn’t hear a car,’ said Sam as he went to answer it.
‘We were parked outside already,’ said Caspar. ‘No time to lose.’
The black Range Rover was blocking the road. One of the neighbours honked his horn, trying to get past. Mel, wearing his dark suit and glasses, got out and just looked at him. He waved back in a friendly, ingratiating manner. ‘Take your time,’ he called. ‘No hurry!’
Caspar took the wheel. ‘Where are we going?’ said Alice, strapping herself in.
‘Heathrow,’ said Mel, checking his watch. ‘We’ll just make it. Bal is meeting us there.’
Sam pressed his nose to the dark glass as they drove into the airport. To his surprise, the Range Rover was waved through the security gates and they drove out onto the tarmac in the section of the airfield for private jets. A blue and silver Lear jet was warming up on the runway.
Bal waved to them from the cockpit as they climbed aboard. Caspar made sure they were comfortable as the plane taxied down the runway and took off. Once they were airborne, Mel served snacks. Alice giggled when he offered her peanuts.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Rome,’ said Caspar.
The flight took about an hour, Sam thought. This was some jet. The inside was sumptuous leather with a blue and silver trim. There was a second identical Range Rover waiting for them on the Rome runway. Caspar drove again. Bal and Mel had motorbikes and cleared a way through the traffic.
The city sped by. Alice pressed her nose to the car window catching all she could of the strange sights. For once when their escorts were with them, there was traffic everywhere. At every corner there were old and famous buildings. ‘Sorry we haven’t time for the full tour,’ said Caspar. They headed into the very centre to a space beside a small church just outside the Vatican.
Sam and Alice climbed out of the car. There was a fresh smell of cut flowers on the cool night air. Bal was bending over a circle of metal in the earth, unfastening padlocks and chains.
‘The door,’ said Alice, ‘on the calendar.’
‘We’ve come to the catacombs,’ said Bal. ‘One of the oldest and most holy places in Rome.’
Mel went first down the iron ladder, Alice followed, watching her step, then Sam and Caspar. Bal stayed to watch the entrance. They passed along long corridors lit by oil lamps. Dark passages led off to the right and to the left. The walls were carved with strange markings and symbols. Sam sensed they were going deeper, though the slope on the pathway was very gentle, right under the centre of Rome.
At last they reached their destination. In a small hallway, carved out of the rock and lit by oil lamps Mary was waiting for them. She stood as they entered, moving more slowly, Alice thought. Mary showed them a bowl of water where they could wash their hands and face, gave them each a soft linen towel and then flat honey cakes and clear water to refresh them after their journey.
Alice sat on the simple stone bench next to Sam and looked at the carvings around the walls. She tried to imagine who had made the markings, the community which had gathered here. The space they had come to was larger than it seemed. You could fit sixty people in here, maybe more.
In front of them, there was a single small spluttering lamp on the low stone table. At Mary’s feet, bulrushes and lilies grew in a pot of earth. Once again, Mary looked a little older than when they had last seen her. Her hair now was grey and her face lined, yet the same life and passion burned within. At times as Alice watched her, she was no different from the young girl they had met only four days ago. At others, she could sense the ageing more than see it.
As the silence of the holy place settled into them, Mary began her story in a whisper.
‘There were not many of us in the beginning. Six score followed the call and remained in the city. The early days were wonderful, despite the sadness. The strangest mix of sorrow and of joy. I had lost my own son and then discovered him again, for ever. God’s own breath came upon us. There were signs and healings. Thousands joined us and became followers of the Way.’
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The lamp spluttered on the table in front of them. Alice caught the sense of wonder and excitement as the small community grew stronger. Mary’s voice dropped further as the story unfolded.
‘But bitter persecution followed. Suffering, forced exile, death for some. We were arrested and put in prison. Nothing could silence the good news. Some fell away or were corrupted. But the faith of those who were left grew stronger. The message spread from place to place carried by merchants and travellers, by those fleeing for their lives, by those called and sent out.
‘Within a single generation, there were followers in many different places and even here in Rome. This is where we gathered on the first day of the week. You can still see the marks we made as we assembled here in these caves, often in secret. Codes and passwords were part of our life. You can still see the tombs of those who died for their faith.’
Sam looked around at the walls of the cave and, in his mind’s eye, saw the room filled with people who were lit with an inner joy – a joy strong enough to withstand fear and danger, even death itself. He felt the same joy and life rising inside him.
‘We did not know it at the time,’ said Mary softly, her eyes shining, ‘but by our witness the world was changed.’
There was a deep silence for some minutes in the cave.
‘What are these?’ said Sam, pointing to the lamp and to the bulrushes.
‘We had many lessons to learn, dear ones,’ said Mary, smiling sadly. ‘Even in the midst of trial and difficulty. They are lessons which have often been forgotten. These are symbols of those lessons. There was a prophecy, a code, almost a riddle, one of many about my son.’
‘Can you tell us what it said?’ asked Sam.
Mary sang the words as a lullaby. Alice wondered if, long ago, she had sung them to her baby boy:
‘A bruised reed he will not break,
A dimly burning wick he will not quench.’
Mary knelt by the bulrushes and the spluttering lamp. ‘The lesson is needed today more than ever,’ she said. ‘God’s ways are paths of gentleness and hope. Find the life that is there,’ she said. ‘Nurture it. Even if the reed is bruised and broken, do not give up. It can mend, given time. Even though the lamp burns low, do not put it out. Tend it and protect it until it burns strong again. We are not simply those who bear a message. We are those who live the Way in the strength that is given to us. The way of my son is the way of gentleness and hope.’
They sat quietly for a while, both of them taking in the symbols which were set before them. For Sam especially, there was a challenge, a shaping, an inner strength born in that moment.
Then Mary’s gentle voice brought the moment to a close: ‘Our time is at an end. You must go, children.’
She embraced them both. Caspar led them again out of the catacombs, up the ladder to the waiting car. They sped through the busy evening streets of the city to the waiting jet. The jet carried them swiftly through the night skies. From Heathrow, their escorts brought them safely back again to the familiar street and home.
Neither Sam nor Alice slept this time on the journey but neither did they speak. Each carried in their minds the wonder and the challenge they had heard. Mary’s story and her final words burned within them.
They said goodnight to Caspar, Bal and Mel. Sam turned on the light in the hall but they left the lights off in the front room as they went to inspect the calendar.
In the centre of the door was an oil lamp burning dimly, flickering and almost going out. By its light, Sam and Alice saw clearly, trampled underfoot yet never to be broken, a bruised reed. The symbols of the gentle way.
23 December
On Sunday morning, Alice woke early. She felt lighter and cleaner than she had for a long time. ‘Only two days to Christmas!’
Megs had left a long list of chores for Sam and herself. Josie was coming round to help and arrived when Alice was halfway through breakfast. ‘Sam’s still asleep,’ Alice said as she let her in. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘Please,’ said Josie. ‘Sam!’ she called up the stairs. ‘Action stations. Megs will be back at lunchtime.’
A low mumble came from the direction of Sam’s room.
‘What’s on the list, Alice?’
‘Mainly cleaning,’ said Alice. ‘Front room. Grandma and Grandad are sleeping in Sam’s room. There’s more room. Mum threatened to order a skip. The food she ordered from the supermarket should arrive around ten.’
Sam staggered into the kitchen in his dressing gown and hugged Josie. ‘C’fee,’ he pleaded. Alice raised her eyes to the ceiling.
Josie and Alice sorted out dusters and buckets of soapy water while Sam had his shower. They started on the front room. Josie hoovered and Alice dusted round. She polished the mirror carefully. The surface was still solid, the reflection still normal. By the time she had finished rubbing, the surface sparkled.
Alice came to the calendar itself and ran the duster first over the four edges and then, very carefully, across the buttons and, last of all, in between the doors. There was just one empty space left, in the bottom right-hand corner, where today’s picture would appear.
‘You’ve got lots of presents, Alice,’ said Josie. ‘You must be excited.’
‘I am,’ said Alice, quietly, looking at the calendar, focusing this time on the picture of the tiny angel from the Chamber of Laments. She realised she hadn’t actually thought very much about the adventure of the calendar coming to an end – but there were just two doors left.
The doorbell rang. Sam answered it on his way down. ‘Shopping,’ he said. Josie and Alice went to help carry what seemed like a hundred plastic bags through into the kitchen. A cold wind blew through the house as the delivery man brought everything into the hallway.
‘Food,’ said Sam, peering into the bags.
Alice slapped his hand and gave him three bin-liners. ‘Two for rubbish,’ she said, speaking as much to Josie as to Sam. ‘One for laundry. It’s got to be finished by twelve. I’ll put the shopping away.’
‘It’s got to be finished by eleven,’ said Sam, running up the stairs. ‘I need to do some Christmas shopping.’
Josie helped Alice put the shopping away. ‘What time is Megs arriving?’
‘Around lunchtime was all she said.’
Sam arrived back with three full bin-liners and collected the hoover. ‘Impressive,’ said Josie. ‘You might have time to go to the shops after all.’
In the end, they all went into town together. Megs rang to say they wouldn’t make it home until two o’clock at the earliest. The shops were heaving with men. ‘We only come out two days before Christmas,’ said Sam. He made his excuses and slipped off to do his shopping.
Alice and Josie nosed around the shopping mall more window shopping than anything else. Alice was more interested in the people. She watched the expressions on their faces. Why was everyone in such a hurry? In the corner of the market square, a brass band was playing Christmas carols but no one stayed to listen. It was the only peaceful area in the whole town centre, it seemed. The music seemed stronger, somehow, at least when you’d been listening to the tinny jingles in the shops. There were long queues at all the cash point machines and at the tills in the shops. She caught snatches of conversation as people charged past her.
‘Hurry up, why can’t you? I’m sick of shopping.’
‘Can’t we go home now?’
‘You always spend too much on your parents – every year it’s the same.’
‘I hate Christmas. I’m exhausted already.’
Sam came back to meet them, looking pleased with himself and carrying a number of parcels. Alice and Josie tried to peer into them but without success.
They got soaked waiting for the bus on the way home and arrived back later than intended. Megs was already there with the grandparents. Grandma w
as stooped and thin and grey but very happy to be there. Grandad looked older than she remembered and weaker but a hundred times better than in the hospital bed. Alice hugged them both.
‘Come on in,’ said Grandma. ‘You’re all soaking wet. You must be Josie. Lovely to meet you. Congratulations.’
‘You never said how pretty she was, Sam,’ said Grandad from the chair, smiling. Josie blushed.
‘Where’s Andrew?’ asked Alice.
‘He had to go,’ said Megs. ‘Said something about last-minute Christmas shopping.’ She winked at Josie.
‘How are you, Dad?’ asked Sam.
‘Glad to be out of that hospital ward, Son,’ said his father. ‘And glad to be all together for Christmas. Especially now the family is expanding.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Grandma. ‘Why don’t you give me a hand, Josie, and tell me all about yourself?’
‘And you, young lady,’ said Grandad. ‘You tell me all about this calendar. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘We had a card through the post,’ said Alice. ‘Sam collected it from Hamleys on 30 November. Every day we get a text message. It’s like a code. We punch it in and a new door appears.’
‘It’s not like any advent calendar I’ve ever seen,’ said Grandad. ‘What are all these pictures? I can’t see them so well without my glasses.’
‘This one’s a dove,’ said Alice. ‘This is a golden thread in a forest. This one is a new road dug through the mountains.’
‘Is it indeed?’ said Grandad. ‘Do you know what they mean? It’s not as though any of them come from the Christmas story, is it? What’s that one in the corner there?’
‘A new shoot,’ said Alice, ‘growing from an old stump.’
‘Is it now?’ said Grandad, smiling. ‘I think I begin to see.’
‘See what?’ said Alice.
‘When I was little,’ said her grandfather, ‘my mother made me go to Sunday School. I quite liked it really. Never kept it up, though your grandma went to church when we first got married. Say one for me, I always used to tell her when she went out on a Sunday.’
