Saints and Sailors

by Pam Rhodes

  “There you are,” exclaimed Betty, sliding into a spare seat next to Jill. “I haven’t seen you for a proper natter for ages. How are you getting on with that husband of yours?”

  Jill laughed. “I think you, Sheila and Marion ought to set up business as relationship counsellors. Your make-over on me that night certainly had his eyes out on stalks.”

  “And now he won’t let you out of his sight?”

  “Yes, that has been a bit of a surprise,” Jill grinned. “But better than that, we’ve done a lot of talking, which is probably what we needed most of all. Being on this cruise has been perfect, away from all the things at home which have been getting both of us down. We’ve not bothered with any organized trips since that evening. We’ve just wandered out from the ship and found a nice view or a cosy café where we could sit and talk. We got out of the habit of doing things like that years ago. We’d forgotten how much we enjoy it.”

  “And has it helped? What have you talked about?”

  “Well, there was me thinking he loved his work and wanted to spend as much time there as possible just to get away from me. But when he eventually opened up about his job, it became clear how much it’s worrying him. He’s had a new boss for quite a while now, and they don’t see eye to eye at all. Rob knows he’s being passed over for younger, more ambitious people who’ve only been there five minutes, and that makes him feel as if his years of experience aren’t valued at all. He was looking at the prospect of having to work there until he retired, and was getting really depressed about it. He saw himself as the main breadwinner, responsible for all our family bills, and couldn’t see a way out.

  “So he’s been burying his sorrows down the pub each night after work, along with a bunch of other disgruntled employees, and that’s made him feel even worse. Then he would come home to find me looking very comfortable and homely. He ended up feeling that I was living very nicely, thank you, while he was burdened with having to pay for it all.”

  “But he’s the one who stopped you having a career of your own.”

  “That’s male pride for you. He’s quite old-fashioned about not wanting his wife to work, because it would suggest he’s not a good provider, whereas I’d love to use my brain and skills, not just for my own sense of fulfilment, but also because I’d like to earn a bit of extra money for us!”

  “So now you both know this, where does that leave you?”

  “Well, Rob’s going to leave – not me, but that job he hates. We’ve decided to work together and set up our own business.”

  “Wow! What have you got in mind?”

  “We’re still thinking it through and we’ll have to do a lot of research when we get back home. We thought we’d look for a business franchise we can work on together. We’ve got a bit of a nest egg put by for when we retire, but it’ll do more good for us if we invest rather than just save it. We’re both hard workers. I can be very creative when I put my mind to it, and he’s always been great with accounts and paperwork. Between us, we reckon, we’ve got the combination of skills we’d need in business. Maybe we’ll take on a shop, or we’ll find a product to market and sell. It’s early days, but we’re both so excited about it.”

  “That sounds really enterprising,” beamed Betty. “And what’s more, you’ve got your husband back. It’s easy to see you still love him as much as ever.”

  “I do. We’d got into a rut where our lives were running on parallel lines, not touching, each of us doing our own thing. We intend to put that right from now on. When we think about what we nearly threw away…”

  “Good evening, everyone!” greeted Bishop Paul, bringing their conversation to an abrupt halt as he stood at the mike to introduce the service. “Well, what a wonderful backdrop we have for our ‘Praise Away’ this evening: the charming old town of Honfleur, the last of the many places we’ve visited together in recent days. Have you enjoyed the cruise?”

  A cheer went up around the crowd.

  “And have you felt inspired by it?”

  That brought even louder agreement from the crowd.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that. We’ve travelled as pilgrims together, and I wonder if you, like me, feel you’ve made some very special friendships here that you will cherish long after The Pilgrim has docked at Tilbury tomorrow.”

  Again, there was enthusiasm from the crowd.

  “Talking of friends, one very dear friend was lost to us yesterday. Many of you will have met Harry Holloway, a much-loved family member of Reverend Neil and his wife Claire. Sadly, Harry died yesterday afternoon – peacefully in his sleep. Our prayers and thoughts are with all those who love and miss him, and we ask for God’s blessing on them. Harry was a man of great faith, and although he will be missed here by so many, there is comfort in knowing he is with the God he’s always trusted, worshipped and loved. Let’s bow our heads in prayer for a minute to remember Harry.”

  Standing with his arm around Iris, who looked pale and drawn, Neil drew her closer just as Claire slipped her hand into his. Together they stood in silence, knowing that Harry had planned to be standing beside them for this farewell service.

  “I know you’re here, Uncle Harry,” breathed Claire to herself. “I hope you know we miss you and how much love there is for you here. I’m trying to remember what you said about joy. I’m not quite there yet, but I will be…”

  It was during the singing of the first hymn that everyone on deck realized that the big ship was starting to move. Smoothly, with regal dignity, The Pilgrim pulled away from her berth, turning from the picturesque harbour of Honfleur and out to sea.

  As the hymn ended, Sister Maureen stood up to take her place at the microphone.

  “This is a reading from Mark’s Gospel, chapter 4, verses 35 to 41,” she said, finding her place in the Bible. “As we sail out to sea this evening, it seems appropriate to remember how when Jesus was in a boat, he calmed the waters in the face of a storm.

  “That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, ‘Let us go over to the other side.’ Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’

  “He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

  “He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’

  “They were terrified and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!’”

  “Thank you,” said the bishop, taking the mike again. “There’s good advice and reassurance in the story Sister Maureen has just read to us. Here we all are, sailing on a very luxurious boat for the shores of home. I wonder how you’re feeling now as you think about going back to take up the reins of your usual life. Does that fill you with anticipation and pleasure? Or is there part of you that wishes you could stay in this cosseted, comfortable bubble for longer, where everything is organized and done for us, and all we have to do is enjoy it all?

  “The fact is that normal, daily life is hard. I don’t believe anyone is immune to troubles and worries. That’s the human experience – that God-given mixture of blessings and gifts on the one hand, and the limitations and concerns we all recognize on the other, like illness, relationship problems, money, work, disability, loneliness, exhaustion. The list is long and I bet, from your own experience, you could add other examples to make it even longer.

  “That’s how life is for us today, and it was probably a very similar story for the disciples two thousand years ago. They’d given up their usual way of life to follow Jesus when he asked them. They’d each come to Christ with a glad heart. But can you imagine how many practical problems that decision probably caused them? And then, to top it all, they’d set out across the Sea of Galilee when
everything seemed settled and calm, only to run into a sudden violent storm that had them fearing for their lives. Can you think how you’d have felt if you’d been one of them, panicking and terrified, when the man who’d organized the trip appeared completely uninterested, sleeping peacefully through it all?

  “But when they woke Jesus, afraid they were about to drown, he couldn’t understand why they were so worried. He simply got to his feet, ordered the storm to subside, then wondered aloud why they had so little faith in him, and in God’s loving protection of them.

  “But aren’t we all a bit like those disciples? Don’t we get ourselves in a mess of worry and doubt as we try to sort out our problems by ourselves? Yet through the promise of Christ living here with us on earth, we know that God is with us always, especially in the most harrowing of times. He has promised that if we call out to him in prayer, he will listen. Over my years as a bishop, I have so often been moved beyond words at the times I’ve seen prayers being answered in the most wonderful way – not always as we expect it, but according to God’s will.

  “So that’s the thought I would like you to take home with you when we part company in the morning. Whatever you are going back to, whatever challenges or concerns await you in your everyday life, don’t forget God’s promise to be with us. Our great God who made the heavens and the earth, the sea and the skies, also created each and every one of us, unique and perfect. He knows us. He’s made an eternal commitment to us. Let’s never cease thanking him and praising his holy name.”

  At that point, Brian started playing the introduction to one of the most loved and familiar of all hymns, the poignancy of its words touching chords in the souls of the worshippers as they sailed together towards the sun-streaked horizon.

  Dear Lord and Father of mankind,

  forgive our foolish ways;

  reclothe us in our rightful mind,

  in purer lives thy service find,

  in deeper reverence, praise,

  in deeper reverence, praise.

  In simple trust like theirs who heard,

  beside the Syrian sea,

  the gracious calling of the Lord,

  let us, like them, without a word,

  rise up and follow thee,

  rise up and follow thee.

  O sabbath rest by Galilee!

  O calm of hills above,

  where Jesus knelt to share with thee

  the silence of eternity,

  interpreted by love,

  interpreted by love!

  Drop thy still dews of quietness,

  till all our strivings cease;

  take from our souls the strain and stress,

  and let our ordered lives confess

  the beauty of thy peace,

  the beauty of thy peace.

  Breathe through the heats of our desire

  thy coolness and thy balm;

  let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;

  speak through the earthquake, wind and fire,

  O still, small voice of calm,

  O still, small voice of calm!

  By the time the last verse had finished, the gospel choir members had quietly risen to take their places across the back of the performance area, poised to start the moment the bishop’s introduction had finished. Together, Clifford and Andrew struck up the opening bars of their performance.

  If any of them were nervous, it certainly didn’t show as they sang their hearts out, swaying, clapping and marching their way through the selection of old gospel favourites. The audience loved every moment, even when Raymond very loudly sang not just the wrong words, but the wrong song without noticing at all what the others were doing around him! And at the end, they finished to rapturous applause and even a standing ovation from some members of the audience who enthusiastically showed how much they’d enjoyed every minute.

  Several people mentioned later that they’d found their eyes drawn to one particular lady at the front, whose performance took their breath away. Ida, sitting comfortably in her wheelchair, had come to life with the music. She might have been mouthing words that didn’t fit and weren’t right, but that hardly mattered when her usually expressionless face was a picture of sublime concentration, as her hands swayed in her lap and her feet attempted to tap to the rhythm.

  As the gathering was starting to disperse, Julia was hugging her mother warmly just as Paul came over, plainly delighted at the reaction to Ida’s performance in the choir.

  “You will come dancing this evening, won’t you?” he asked Julia, touching her arm.

  “Well, I have got two suitcases to pack…”

  “Yes, you have, but this is your last night. It may not be professional for me to say so, but I really want to dance with you – and not just on this trip.”

  Julia looked at him quizzically. “But aren’t you at sea for months at a time?”

  “I’m booked on the next cruise for this coming fortnight, starting tomorrow afternoon, but after that they’ll send me dates, and I can choose whether I want to do them or not.”

  “This might be a delicate question, but isn’t this your job? Surely you don’t want to turn work down?”

  “The cruise itself is the payment. They just offer me the opportunity to travel the world with all expenses paid, and in return I spend my evenings dancing with any lady who’d like a partner for a spot of ballroom dancing.”

  “And you’re offering to dance with me…?”

  “Not as a dance host. I hope you feel our friendship is already beyond that. I’d like to dance with you as my friend, as someone I’d like the opportunity to get to know better as time goes on.”

  “Oh!” The surprise that registered on Julia’s face was mixed with obvious interest. “But – where do you live?”

  “Just outside St Albans, about ten miles away from where you work in Welwyn Garden City.”

  “Really?” she smiled.

  “Really,” he stated with a smile to match hers.

  “Well,” she said, taking hold of the handles on Ida’s wheelchair, “I’d better go and pack if I’m going dancing this evening…”

  As it was the last night on board, there was no big production by the ship’s entertainers. It was assumed that people would mostly be packing their bags ready for collection later that evening. The passengers would be reunited with their luggage on the dockside as they left The Pilgrim next morning at the end of their holiday.

  “We’re all going up for a last dance,” announced Betty, pushing back her chair. “Are you two coming?”

  The smile Carole and Garry shared in reply to her question could only be described as smug.

  “Actually, we’re meeting the captain for a nightcap. Such an interesting man! We’ve become rather good friends.”

  “We’re joining you, Betty,” said Mark, as he helped Deirdre up from her seat.

  “I’m bringing my camera,” cried Barbara, “and John will take some video too. Before we part company in the morning, we must all put our diaries together to sort out a time for our holiday photos evening.”

  “Can I come?” beamed Raymond. “Except I’d need a lift all the way to Derbyshire. Perhaps Peter and Val will go? They’ve been up to stay with Neil and Claire before. Oh…”

  His face fell as he mentioned their names. “Poor Neil and Claire. I always liked Harry. I liked him a lot.”

  “We all did.” Sylvia put a comforting hand on Raymond’s arm. “Come on, let’s go up to the lounge and get as much dancing in as possible before we all collapse in a heap.”

  The dance floor was already filling up by the time they got there. The Pilgrim Band was in full swing, belting out a well-known pop song that worked for ballroom buffs as a quickstep, while others did their own thing, as if they were back in their disco days.

  “Look!” Brian nudged Sylvia later, directing her attention to Sister Maureen, who was waving her arms in the air as she danced and sang along to “Show Me the Way to Amarillo.”

  “I love her,” la
ughed Sylvia. “She’s my type of woman.”

  “And you’re mine,” grinned Brian. “Come on, let’s show Sister Maureen how it’s done.”

  Paul was already on the dance floor, partnering one of the Catholic mothers, when Julia wheeled Ida into a space at the corner of the floor. From there they could watch together, joining in with the applause when each number came to an end.

  As the floor cleared, the band changed the tempo to a slow rumba, and several couples took to their feet again, their steps smooth and flowing. Paul looked thoughtful for a moment before making his way over to kneel directly in front of Ida’s wheelchair.

  “Ida,” he said very clearly, making sure his face was level with hers so that he could look straight into her eyes. “Would you care to dance?”

  Julia took a sharp breath, wondering what on earth he could be thinking – until she looked down at her mother’s face. There was a definite spark there, as if she was trying to make sense of what he’d asked. Then, slowly and deliberately, Ida started to slide her hands along the arms of the wheelchair. Shocked at her mother’s reaction, Julia caught Paul’s eye as they both moved to help Ida up, watching as she concentrated on making sure her feet were steady before she finally lifted herself up from the seat inch by inch.

  And her partner was waiting! Paul slipped his arm around Ida’s waist to steady her before lifting her right hand into a traditional ballroom dance hold. Hesitantly at first, but gaining in confidence and momentum, the two of them swayed from side to side to the rumba rhythm. Julia looked on, gulping for breath as tears clouded her eyes. Her mother was dancing! She’d always loved to dance. Somewhere in the depths of that frail body in which her muddled mind and memory were trapped and buried, her beloved mother was still there.

  The music lasted for several magical minutes before it drew to a graceful end. The silence that followed was suddenly filled by warm applause from the small crowd around them, astonished and touched by what they’d just seen. Ida stiffened in Paul’s arms, and he watched as the light of recognition seemed to dim from her face.