The Reading Room

by Ruth Hamilton

  Lily began with Eve, who was the least hysterical of the trio. Napkins and cake table were done, but Lily needed to make up the women before going home to prepare herself. She was proud of the bride, because Philly had been so incredibly brave with her wedding suit. A nice, sensible blue-grey three-piece had been returned to the shop, because Philly had made a decision.

  The decision was oyster satin, the skirt full length but with a kick at the back. This item was paired with a long-sleeved blouse buttoned high to the throat, and an Edwardian style hat with an open-weave veil. Because she wasn’t tall, Philly had opted for heeled shoes, and she was going to look spectacular. The village would be taken aback when they saw that the butterfly had emerged from its chrysalis. She had surprised even Lily, who had not expected such self-confidence from the quiet little woman. And she was decidedly sleek, since she seemed to have lost most of her extra weight. ‘There won’t be a dry eye in the church,’ she promised. ‘You are going to look stunning. The Edwardian look is so right for you. We’re all proud of you, lovely.’

  When Eve’s make-up had been perfected, Lily started on Valda. Valda was more up to date than the other two, so the job was easy except for mascara that had run during the whist-in-knickers session.

  Then it was the important person’s turn. She had amazing skin that had suffered no contact with heavy make-up, and Lily stuck to browns and beiges, finishing with a flourish of a lipstick named fourteen carat, because it had a sheen over a pink-brown base. The bride was ready. ‘You’re done and dusted,’ Lily announced. ‘I’ll leave you the lipstick, but no cups of tea, no eating, and none of you is to get dressed before half past two. All right?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ Eve replied, the other two echoing her words. ‘You’d better do something about yourself,’ Eve continued. ‘Unless you’re coming as the lucky chimney sweep. You look like you’ve stepped out of a pigsty.’

  Lily ignored her friend. ‘No make-up on clothes. Try not to pull anything over your head while dressing.’ She looked at the three of them, told them they looked well prepared but gormless, then went home. Was gormless a Lancashire word? Oh well, she thought as she opened her gate, perhaps if she hung round for thirty years, she might be accepted as a Lancastrian . . .

  He was in the front drawing room, and he looked so beautiful, so right. Lily stood in the doorway and gasped, because he was almost as pretty as the bride. ‘Hello,’ she whispered.

  He turned, and was suddenly a prince dressed in splendour so magnificent that he was clearly prepared to pay homage to a king. ‘Hello,’ he replied. ‘This is my best frock. I had to come back from the vestry, because I’d forgotten my grandmother’s missal. Even though it’s in Latin, I always carry it during a sacrament.’

  ‘They should have kept the Latin,’ said Lily. ‘It was a universal language that worked no matter which country you were in.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And your shoes?’ she asked.

  ‘Alas, black and sensible.’

  Lily sat in an armchair. ‘Tell me about the clothes.’ He would lose the ability to dress in splendour, to baptize and marry people, to administer the last rites, to bury the dead.

  ‘Well, there’s the alb, the white undergarment that goes from neck to feet. It symbolizes innocence. The maniple – here on my left forearm – is a sign of endurance. My matching stole is supposed to mean patience, while the gorgeous chasuble represents charity. Pretty, eh? And very, very hot in this weather.’

  She smiled. ‘Mike, you must have regrets.’

  ‘Of course. Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sat opposite her. ‘Don’t be impressed by the vestments – there’s just a man underneath all this cloth and embroidery. It’s a man who is sure he wants to leave the priesthood because it isn’t right for him any more. Your arrival on the scene is not significant.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  She had known from the start what he meant, had recognized a traveller whose company she might enjoy on the journey through life. Friendship had turned to love and need in so short a time that it had taken her breath away. ‘And tomorrow, you leave the Church.’

  ‘Right. I shall announce it, but they know already. They probably knew before I did. I stayed because of Philly. Even she has accepted my decision, and she was as old-fashioned as they come. Some of the elderly people are taken aback, but we soldier on, you and I.’

  Lily voiced a worry that had sat with her for some time. ‘And we can’t be married in your church, since I am divorced.’

  He turned and looked through the window. ‘Lily, I can give you a list of wealthy people who have been granted annulment even after they have had a full marriage – including children.’

  ‘So Rome is purchasable?’

  ‘Yes,’ he breathed so softly that he was scarcely audible. ‘Everything has a price.’ He looked at her again. ‘My God will marry us out there in the orchard, at the top of Rivington Pike, or on the number thirty-two bus from Moor Lane. My God forgives, and He doesn’t need money.’

  He had decided. She’d already known that, but seeing him in his uniform had made her wonder yet again.

  ‘Are you going to a wedding like that?’ he asked.

  She looked down at her wrecked clothes. ‘Would your God mind?’

  ‘He wouldn’t even get off His horse to look at you. But I think Philly might have something to say about jeans full of holes and a shirt that looks like a dishrag.’

  ‘OK, I’ll get changed.’ She went upstairs, stood on the landing and listened while he left the house. A quick shower was followed by a rush to get dressed, and she applied a bit of make-up just before leaving for the church. She closed her gate and stepped onto the pavement. After a very wet start, the day had become promising, and the sun was trying to shine through a layer of white cloud.

  ‘Lily?’

  She turned. It was Mrs Barker in her wheelchair, and she had clearly taken care with her appearance. At long last, she had made an effort for the son she had never valued before. ‘You look great,’ Lily said.

  ‘I waited for you, because I didn’t want to be a pest. Everybody thinks I’m a pest, but you don’t know me, so I thought you’d do. A few offered to come for me, but they’re all up to their eyes in flans and vols-au-vent and God knows what else, so I told them I’d made my own arrangements. You push me. And take me to the front, because I’m his mam.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  They began the short journey. ‘When is he leaving?’ Enid asked. ‘The priest, I mean.’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, he’s a nice enough man, I suppose. Just be careful – you haven’t known him for more than five minutes. Don’t be rushing into anything, because you can’t keep changing your mind and getting divorced, can you?’

  ‘No.’ Lily pushed Enid to the front and left her in the first pew on the right. She didn’t look at Mike – didn’t dare. If he winked or grinned, the whole thing could turn into a fiasco.

  But it didn’t. The service was short, as there was no nuptial mass because it was a mixed marriage, and Philly had not asked for a dispensation in the matter. Dave’s mother had been anti-Catholic for a very long time, so the ceremony was simple.

  Philly almost wept when she saw the decorations in the school hall, but she managed to remain dignified. Lily watched bride and groom and knew that Dave had played a part in the strengthening of his wife. The expected child, too, would be a factor in Philly’s improvement.

  Mike, after changing into a suit, arrived when an hour had passed. He took Lily to one side and informed her that he had spoken again to the bishop and would be released from Holy Orders in just over twenty-four hours. ‘I’m still doing all the other stuff,’ he said. ‘Including the pantom—’ The sentence was curtailed when a very tall and well-muscled black man picked him up with no apparent effort.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mike asked helplessly when his captor flung
him into the fireman’s lift position.

  ‘Nothing, really,’ replied the assailant pleasantly. ‘Just kidnap, that’s all.’

  They left. Lily found herself standing open-mouthed until she noticed that Maurice and Paul had also disappeared. The stranger was probably Paul’s new partner, and they were definitely up to something. She went to the door and looked across the road. Five men were entering Pour Les Dames, and Sally was ushering them inside as quickly as she could. They were gone for over an hour, and Lily could scarcely wait to see what they had managed to dream up. There was definitely a plot on, but she kept it to herself.

  It was a rare treat. The tall black man, Maurice, Paul, Mike and a man in his eighties were all in female attire, and they sang ‘Sisters’, a piece they had been practising for the pantomime. There wasn’t a dry eye in the hall, as everyone found the act ridiculous to the point of tears. The rendition might have offended Irving Berlin and a host of stars from some ancient movie, but it was hilarious.

  Lily held a tissue to her face. Then she stopped laughing, because a thought had popped into her mind. It was all just clothes. A couple of hours earlier, Mike had been the celebrant at a wedding; now, he was an extremely ugly woman in fishnet stockings and a basque that did nothing to enhance his masculine shape. Blacked-out teeth contributed to his comic appearance, and he was clearly enjoying himself.

  The song neared its conclusion with a well-staged fight that had obviously been rehearsed for The Ugly Sisters, as the pantomime was now called, and the old man, complete with Zimmer frame, was appointed referee of the fracas. It was the perfect mad celebration of a wonderful day, and Philly was doubled over with laughter. Dave climbed onto the stage and thanked the participants, giving each of the ‘women’ a peck on the cheek. He raised a hand and waited for quiet. ‘Thank you all for coming, and thanks to Philly for marrying me and saving me from becoming a hopeless case.’ He cleared his throat. ‘A very special thank you to my mother, who made us a wedding gift of her share in the Reading Room. We both promise to take care of it.’ He looked directly at Enid. ‘Thanks, Mam,’ he said.

  The silence in the room was heavy at this point. Everyone knew Enid Barker; almost all had been vilified by her at some point in their lives. Had she made a grand gesture just in order to be forgiven by a village whose memory was notoriously long? Or had her conscience finally surfaced from beneath layers of acid bitterness and acrimony? Only time would tell, many thought as the whispering started.

  ‘Carry on eating, drinking and enjoying yourselves,’ commanded the groom before stepping down.

  Before the guests had time to obey Dave’s orders, the vet stepped out of the wings. He raised a hand and asked for silence. ‘Right, you lot,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen two of today’s stars, but what about the really important one? She runs my surgery waiting room and is becoming an excellent secretary. She also helped save the life of someone special to us all. Skippy, come.’

  The dog hopped her way onto the little stage, while Chas brought on a table, then a chair, then a large box.

  Tim Mellor sat down and set the scene. When all was prepared, his mobile phone rang. Skippy picked it up and passed it to her boss. When the applause subsided, the more intricate trick practised by man and dog began. He set a bin and a wire basket on the floor before starting to open envelopes. Anything rejected was squashed and given to Skippy with the spoken word ‘Bin’, and she tossed the offending item into the rubbish. The command ‘File’ meant that she placed the page in the wire basket.

  The vet screwed up many pages and threw them out of the dog’s reach, and she fetched and binned the lot. But when given a ruined page and told to file, she froze until the order was corrected. Similarly, she refused to bin anything that remained flat. When the act speeded up, she made no mistakes, and the audience continued enraptured.

  The finale involved the phone again, but this time Tim answered it and held it to the dog’s ear. ‘It’s for you,’ he said.

  She woofed politely into the instrument, then followed her employer and took a bow.

  Eve was trying not to weep. This Labrador bitch had persevered until her owners had followed her into the cottage. There were some terrible things in this world, and then there were animals. She vowed there and then to rescue an unwanted dog as a tribute to Skippy.

  Lily and Enid were both watching Eve. She didn’t stand up when most people started to dance. ‘She was near tears while that dog did its tricks,’ remarked Enid. ‘She’s still a long way from right.’

  Lily knew that Eve wasn’t right. None of it was right, because she shouldn’t have suffered in Lily’s place. Anger rose in Lily’s chest until she thought it would choke her. If she’d changed the name of the house, if she’d never met Clive Chalmers, if pigs could fly . . .

  Enid turned to Lily. ‘They don’t believe I can change,’ she said.

  Lily snapped out of her reverie. ‘Mike does. He has a great deal of faith in you.’

  ‘And in you as well. I’m sat up there at that window on my own a lot.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And I mouth off. I’ve always had a runaway gob. But I see people. And I see the way he smiles at you and teases you, and I wish some man had loved me like that. Look after him and make sure he does the same for you.’ She sniffed, then stuffed a vol-au-vent in her mouth.

  Lily grinned. Enid Barker didn’t get emotional, so she would never weep, would she? ‘That was a nice gesture – giving Dave and Philly your share in the business.’

  The older woman swallowed. ‘Not as daft as I look, see. They’ll be grateful and they’ll look after me.’

  ‘And that was your only reason, of course.’

  ‘Aye. And if anybody says different, refer them to me.’

  Mike arrived. He had thrown someone’s raincoat over his costume, so he looked slightly less drag artist, though still rather deficient in the dental department. ‘That’s a very smart suit, Enid,’ he said.

  ‘Bloody sight better than yours. And you’ll get a few bob off the tooth fairy tonight.’

  He rubbed at his teeth, but made little impression on the mess Sally had made. ‘I’m going home,’ he told Lily. ‘Are you staying or coming?’

  ‘I’ll come.’ She made her decision then, while everyone could see her. He was reaching out, so she placed a hand in his, and called goodbye to bride and groom before stepping out for the first time with her man. Let them all see, she thought. Let them know that he is loved, that he will be cared for. It had been a long day, and her back was aching. ‘I have to get my tens,’ she said as they entered the house. ‘It helps with the pain.’

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her climbing the stairs. He had read the old newspapers, had trawled through microfiche at the library, but he still wanted the story from her. Pain? She had never mentioned that before. He followed her up and watched as she manoeuvred pads and wires across her lower back.

  ‘Sciatic nerve,’ she said.

  Mike sat on the bed. ‘He did that?’

  ‘I think so. I also lost my spleen and some of my intestine.’

  ‘And the baby.’

  ‘Yes.’ She placed herself next to him and took his hand again. ‘Sorry about the wires, but this is preferable to drugs.’ She waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. ‘Mike?’

  He sniffed and dragged the sleeve of someone else’s coat across his face.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ she begged.

  ‘How could a man . . .’

  ‘Please, love. We’re both tired, and it’s better to go through all that when we’re in better shape. Just don’t cry, or I’ll start. Go and get that ridiculous stuff off your teeth, then come to bed.’

  He left the room and went down to his own part of the ex-presbytery. Kneeling on his hassock, he poured out grief and anger to the man on the crucifix. Tomorrow, Mike would not say Mass, but he would act as server for his friend, the priest who would take over the parishes. The tears came not as goodbye to the Church, but
as a greeting for the woman he hoped to make his wife. Her past had to be faced by him; she needed to go through it again as half of a couple, because he wanted to know her properly, and she must let go before taking on the future. ‘Between us, let us conquer this, dear Lord. We will conquer it with Your help.’

  He went down, locked doors and windows, looked for foxes but saw none. Bearing two cups of cocoa, he walked back up to Lily’s bedroom and saw that she was fast asleep. Quietly, he placed the cups on a table and went to stand over her. She was wearing one of his T-shirts. In a loosely curled hand on her pillow, she held the plastic box enclosing batteries that would help with her pain. She bore it well, he decided. And he, too, must bear it all with fortitude.

  Trying hard not to disturb her, he pushed a paper napkin under her pillow. It contained a piece of Philly’s wedding cake, and folklore decreed that Lily would dream tonight of the man she would marry. ‘Dream about me,’ he whispered. She was not well. In spite of that, she worked hard and seldom complained. And this stabbing in his chest was hatred. He had never experienced it before, and it came as a great shock. At last, he understood Chas Boswell. The need for revenge was not a primary factor; Chas just wanted to make sure that it would never happen again.

  Sleep proved elusive. Mike found his foxes, put down food for them, heard music emanating even now from the school hall. The sky had clouded over, so there was no star on which he might wish. So he did what he knew best and prayed to his Father, to the Son who had perished on the cross, to the Holy Ghost who mended souls and distributed gifts of charity, joy, peace and benignity. ‘Help me, great Spirit,’ he begged. ‘Help me not to help Chas . . .’

  Thirteen

  TWO CONVERSATIONS . . .

  Eve had been doing her best to ignore Chas when it came down to her greatest worry. If she asked him about his visit to Walton jail, he put his foot down hard and refused to discuss the matter. She had to wait for him to open up, but he didn’t. So, when Sunday evening arrived, she felt time slipping through her fingers like water from a tap. She had to try again, because Chas might well end up in more trouble than he was bargaining for.