“Merde!” said the boss again. “Trouvez une lampe.” One of the men nearest the door felt his way forward.
“J’y vais. Ne tire pas,” he shouted as he gratefully fled from the building ostensibly in search of a torch but instead making for the hired minibus to desert the scene as quickly as he could. He had sensed the game was up and he was not going to be an accessory to murder.
He didn’t get far. The two who had taken Bandi and Abby back to the cellar had come out to the sound of the shots.
“Où vas-tu?”
“Moi. Je m’en vais. Le boss est devenu fou…”
But he was interrupted by the sight of the gendarmerie coming down the lane in force. Wayne’s report had been taken seriously. The three men stood with their hands held high.
As the half-dozen vehicles poured into the yard, they heard another blast in the plant shed.
“Il est devenu fou,” declared the same man.
Inside the shed, Dave had heard the gunman reload. He threw a piece of debris towards the door. The man turned towards it and fired. Dave saw the man silhouetted against the flash and propelled himself onto the man’s back. As they both fell, Dave found the man’s right arm beneath him and felt for the shotgun. He grabbed it as the man heaved himself up and began fighting for control of the weapon, his finger on the second trigger. Dave desperately directed the barrel upwards. The gun went off, blasting a hole in the roof. Daylight streamed in. Then the rest of the gang ran from the building… to be confronted with a phalanx of blue-uniformed gendarmes. Like their colleagues they thrust their hands aloft.
“Ils se battrent…” they declared.
The gendarmes did not hesitate. Within seconds they had entered the shed and had both the bossman and Dave out into the open.
It took a few minutes longer for the gendarmes to coax the teenagers from their hiding places.
The gang had quickly reported the whereabouts of Bandi and Abby, and they, too, were freed.
***
Reunited a few hours later in the canteen at the gendarmes’ barracks, Dave’s group were in high spirits. Wayne was basking in the praise he was receiving from the others, especially Sharon and Dawn, who couldn’t get over the size of the force sent to rescue them. Darren was talking about the stink of the plants – especially when they got blown up. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to smoke that stuff.
“You remember that,” said Dave in a serious tone. Despite everything, he had still not quite come to terms with the thought that Renson Park High was part of a chain for cannabis distribution.
“Course,” said Wayne.
Dave’s status had soared in the eyes of all in his group. He wasn’t just a vicar, he was an intrepid action hero – a wounded action hero, even. He had had iodine applied to his back where the “bullets” had hit him. (Or, to be more accurate, where a couple of pieces of shot had grazed him.) The wonderful thing in Sharon’s eyes was the holes in his shirt. She had forgotten how scared she had been at the time – so scared she pretended to be the quietest mouse in the world.
But Dave had not felt brave then and certainly not now. All he felt was an immense relief.
Abby, however, who had always looked up to her father, had an even deeper impression of his worth but would never forget the fear she had experienced hearing the gun going off.
***
The gendarmes took them to a hotel for the night. The second unplanned hotel stay – only this one was quite luxurious. The deep baths, the rich lather of the soaps supplied and the soft voluminous towels made them feel like film stars. And in the sumptuously decorated dining room, the food seemed to go on forever!
After a well-earned sleep in the softest beds they could ever remember, their own minibus was returned to them. Their camping gear was intact but there was no sign of Sharon’s passport.
“Well, guys, what shall we do?” asked Dave. “We can either go back home now or we can carry on to Taizé as planned.”
They all elected to continue. They had had their phones restored to them and Dave had spoken to each and every distraught parent. But the young people did not want to go home so soon. They had become a close-knit group and they did not want to break the sense of camaraderie and face endless questions from worried relatives. They felt they were grown up enough and persuaded their parents that they were safe together under Dave’s heroic leadership.
Back home in Persham, parents were gathering together and forming their own support group.
***
Their time in Taizé went really fast. They assembled for worship three times a day. The worship was simple but quite deep and, immersed in it, the group managed to forget the farm some of the time.
The community imposed few rules. The main one was that everyone was expected to help look after the place – cleaning, washing up and other essential tasks. That might sound dull but the wonderful thing was meeting people from so many other countries. Young people came from all over the world. Abby spoke lots in French – much nicer French than she had heard from the drug gang – and she used her German, too. The Germans all spoke excellent English, as did most of the other nationalities, so the rest of the group were never isolated.
“All the world speaks our language,” remarked Sharon. “I don’t see why we have to bother with anyone else’s – and besides, there are so many of them.”
“It makes them happy if you try and speak someone’s language,” smiled Abby. “We’re not really the centre of the world in Britain.”
Sharon was forced to agree. Even she managed to see that it wasn’t fair to expect other people to do all the hard work at communicating. Taizé was helping her to understand that the world was a big place – a really big place – and Britain was just one small, if significant, part of it.
“And Bandi doesn’t even come from Planet Earth,” reminded Abby. All the party were learning to expand their horizons.
“When you are here you can’t think, like, Persham is at the centre of the universe,” commented Darren. You could almost see blinkers falling from his eyes.
***
After nine days there, they were all sad to leave.
As they pulled onto the A6 in the direction of Paris, Sharon said, “All that really happens at Taizé is three church services a day and washing up and jobs… But I wanted to go to the worship. It sounds boring but it isn’t… Somehow it’s just as exciting in its own way as being…” She tailed off because she did not want another drama like the last one that had begun on a French motorway. This time she felt she wanted to get back home. They all did. She remembered her passport and broke out into a cold sweat. Would they let her back into Britain? What did they do to kids who had lost their passports? Dave assured her that they wouldn’t abandon her to a permanent stay in the port customs shed, although it might take a bit of time extricating her.
Abby was still thinking about the worship. She had experienced a few styles but not one quite like at Taizé. “The worship is unpretentious,” she remarked. “No-one stands at the front. I like that. You have no idea which brother is leading the singing or reading. They let the worship speak for itself… So different to those places where someone is trying to be important.” She recalled the fellowship she had had a brush with the previous year, and shivered a little.
“Absolutely,” agreed her father. “What you get there is God. It was at Taizé that I first felt Him calling me to be ordained… On that occasion, I was not interrupted on my way there.”
At that moment, Wayne dropped his sweets. They rolled all over the floor of the minibus. His hero status, although not entirely forgotten, had not made him less clumsy. He was still the same Wayne.
“Wayne, we can’t take you anywhere,” scolded Dawn.
Wayne retrieved what he could from around him and, as he did so, his hand felt something shoved down between the seats.
“What’s this?” he asked, pulling out Sharon’s passport.
“My passport!” exclaimed Sharon
. “Wow! Thanks, Wayne. Now I can go home properly.”
“That’s a relief,” said Dave. “Thanks, Wayne.”
“No problem,” smiled Wayne, reputation restored. Being the hero was getting to be a habit.
10
The months passed in Persham and the days grew shorter. Bandi was struck by the gloom of a string of cloudy and rain-soaked days and bleak starless nights. It was dark when he got up and dark again soon after he got back from the college. But, among the children, there was a thrill of bright anticipation. Bandi was soon to become part of the excitement, too – the dark days were signalling the impending arrival of Christmas.
On Advent Sunday, four Sundays before 25th December, Abby’s parents unveiled an Advent calendar with a pocket for each of the days of Advent. The season of preparation for the big day had begun. Each pocket contained two items: one for Abby and one for Bandi. Bandi was treated the same in every respect. Dave and Lynn had always wanted two children but it had not happened – not until now, that is, when this year they would have two young people in their house for Christmas. Lynn delighted in making the special calendar. The pockets had sweets in them but also an object, picture or reading about the Christmas story or a Yuletide tradition of some kind.
On Joh, Matilda had always insisted on keeping Christmas. She said she couldn’t think of life without it. The trouble was that no-one else in the Johian community apart from Jack had ever experienced it, so it lacked the collective hype the season had on Earth. But in Persham, surrounded by fairy lights and seasonal music, Bandi soon caught the Christmas fever with a vengeance.
In the Johian Scriptures there was no baby Jesus, of course. The Johians celebrated the powerful presence of God with his creation but it was a spiritual presence. God came, they believed but only in the hearts of people – the Creator had taken no human form on Joh. But nevertheless, the Johians enjoyed their festivals.
This included a traditional annual celebration of light. Few took the rising of Daan for granted – it symbolised the great blessings of the Creator. The gift of light was an essential ingredient of the gift of life, and life was the dwelling place and the supreme workshop of the Creator. It seemed to Matilda that this would be the appropriate time for her Christmas celebrations so, in addition to all the Johian traditions, she insisted on a Christmas tree in the cottage and told her family the story of the babe in a manger.
Listening to Matilda, Pastor Ruk had been so taken with the story of Christmas that the previous year, when the Festival of Light came around, he had preached about the coming of God to his creation in human form. It did not matter, he concluded, that this had happened on another planet. The truth remained that God had been born in human flesh, and that was a visitation to all human beings wherever they lived in the universe – in fact it had been the deepest involvement of the Creator, not just in things human but in the whole of creation. This was not a matter of intellectual interest; it was the most powerful and significant thing the Creator had done since the beginning of creation itself. Ruk had read Matilda’s translation of the Christmas story in Luke’s Gospel to the congregation and added that his fervent prayer was that one day he would be privileged, like the Smith family, to visit Planet Earth One, and if that was granted he hoped it would be at Christmastime.
After the service, Jack joked that Ruk wanted jam on it.
“I don’t think the Creator will blame me for asking,” the pastor replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“Certainly not… But, if you do get to visit Planet Earth at Christmas, I’m afraid you will be disappointed. It is not always the best time of the year for everyone on Earth.”
“Why? Don’t they recognise the significance of a Saviour’s birth and rejoice?”
“No. Not everyone. Many find it hard to believe in God at all… I know that sounds, well, odd – given all the creation that surrounds them and the miracle of life itself – but some people are only aware of what they haven’t got, and they miss seeing the wonder of it. They are too busy grumbling to count their blessings. And on Earth we have become good at destroying and spreading hate, and God gets the blame for that,” said Jack, ruefully.
“But you don’t blame God for the bad things… I mean what happened to you and Jalli when you were so young. The celebration of light for you and your blind friends is probably a bit… well, a bit of a disappointment…”
“No. Light is more than what you see with eyes if you have them,” Jack said. “You do not need eyes to see God’s presence – in fact, sometimes seeing things with your eyes can distract you; when I was a child the teachers always taught us to close our eyes when we said our prayers. And, no, I don’t blame God for it. Don’t get me wrong, I did for a few months before I realised He lives in the darkness too… There’s lots on Earth that is far from perfect but the vast majority of it is down to the behaviour of human beings. And I don’t believe that’s God’s fault. It’s God that has given us each other and the power to give and receive love. Because of that, I am rich.
“But, the truth is, I didn’t feel like that when I was a child,” added Jack, thoughtfully. “To be honest, I didn’t think Christmas was for real.”
“Not for real? How do you mean?”
“I mean, in my experience it was all…” Jack sighed. “So many things about it were make-believe. Father Christmas, I knew, was made up – well, I did when I got to seven if not earlier. The presents – I got presents from Mum but not like some of the others who had big families and got really cool stuff. I resented them. And then there was all the alcohol. Thinking about it, I guess some of the excessive drinking is people trying to drown out the disillusionment they feel around Christmas. The hype doesn’t deliver.
“I knew my dad had left because of drink and sometimes I was glad he wasn’t there like some of the kids’ parents who got drunk and spoiled everything. This boy in our class – he told us how his father and his grandfather used to drink all Christmas afternoon and end up in an argument… every year!
“So, the bit about Jesus and God just got lost for most of us. A baby was born in a stable – so what? Angels and wise men – they were just all made-up stories.”
“But you worshipped with your mother at the religious festival?”
“Worshipped? Nuh. We never went to church. That only started when Jalli came along.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Like the angels at Christmas, she came from the stars. She and her grandma showed us how much we are loved… And so we have Christmas here with all the light and hope and none of the drink or the arguments. When I came to know God, I realised that the ‘Jesus bit’ is about the only bit of Christmas that is truly real. The only bit that is real throughout the universe and forever…”
Bandi was delighted the family Christmas tree on Joh was associated with the Festival of Light because it meant that he and Abby were going to get two Christmases. And Yeka was especially excited about the tree this year because her brother and his girlfriend had brought some baubles and lights from Persham. She couldn’t wait to see them on the tree. Up until then they had had only homemade ones. According to Kakko, these Earth jewels were just awesome.
***
Shaun was now out of plaster and wearing a plastic boot that he could take off to bathe and sleep. It was great having his leg back, which was getting stronger every day. He still needed the crutches to get around with but he could swing along faster on them than other people could walk. They had to run to keep up with him. Once he met Wennai while she was out jogging and swung along with her. It became something of a regular occurrence but he never talked about meeting her. Whenever anyone mentioned it, he would tell them they were just friends.
“I don’t know why she puts up with you,” said Kakko two weeks before the Festival of Light. “I mean it’s quite obvious she really likes you and you keeping saying you’re just friends.”
“She’s a fan, that’s all,” answered Shaun, dismissively.
; “Really? A football fan? You haven’t played for weeks and it could be months before you get back in the team… Anyway, I heard that Gollip was on good form.”
“He is. He’s scored in each of the last three matches. She’s his girlfriend now.”
“Oh, Shaun! What’s wrong with you? You know she likes you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me, absolutely nothing. She’s dating Gollip. That’s fine with me.”
“Is it?”
“Look, Kakko, stop saying that…! OK?” Shaun’s anger was rising. His sister could be so annoying.
“OK… OK.” Kakko backed off, her hands raised in submission.
“Just… Just change the subject.”
“OK… You sleeping well?”
“Now why do you ask that?” retorted Shaun crossly. Kakko could be impossible. First Wennai and now his sleeping habits.
“Because… because sometimes you shout in the night. And you come down to the kitchen and eat stuff. I can hear you – my room’s near to the kitchen.”
“It’s nothing. My leg hurts.”
“It’s more than that, Shaun. You’re cross and sullen most of the time and you never used to be… and just before you tell me to back off again, don’t forget you and I go all the way back to when I was two, and I know when something’s up… And burying it doesn’t work. If you want to yell at me, yell at me – I don’t care; but I want my brother back, not some boy who clams up on me as if I were a stranger,” said Kakko, more forcefully than she had intended.
Kakko retreated to her room leaving Shaun with his head in his hands. Had she said too much? No, she told herself. What you see is what you get with me. He’s got to sort himself out – or let someone else help him. And, besides, it’s not fair on Wennai – even if she is too coy to stand up for herself. Kakko didn’t go much on the girlie stuff that Wennai chose – dresses and shoes and make-up – but that was not the point. She might have been different, annoyingly different sometimes but she was who she was. Wennai was not trying to pretend to be anyone other than her true self. And, in any case, for whatever reason, Shaun liked her and it was unfair of him not to admit that to her or himself.
The Spark (White Gates Adventures Book 4) Page 10
