by Pam Rhodes
“You led the service with great sensitivity today. I couldn’t have done that.”
She looked at him steadily.
“Not yet, perhaps, but in time you will. You’re still learning your trade – but you’ll find that when it comes to helping families through their grief, and trying to make sense of it all for them, you learn what you need to know.”
“Really? I mean, I know what you’re saying. There’s so much in Christ’s teaching to reassure us of life after death, and God’s comfort and constant love. But surely every loss is different, so everyone’s grief must be different too.”
“That’s when you have to be firm, Neil. In life there is death. That’s the pattern of things. But as Christians we don’t fear death, because Christ promised us that he’s gone to prepare a place for each one of us in heaven. People need to know that. In grief, more than ever before, they have to be reminded that whatever they feel now, this is God’s will, and that God is with them in their loss. They need to hear the gospel, remember Christ’s promise and recognize God’s constancy and love.”
Neil pictured the bleak despair he’d seen in Jeannie and Colin earlier that day, and wondered whether, in spite of their lifelong Christian faith, that thought was cold comfort to them as they lowered their baby daughter’s body into the ground.
“You don’t doubt that, do you, Neil? It’s the heart of what we believe. Our lives are God’s will, our death too. We live. We die. And throughout it all, Christ walks with us on earth, and in everlasting life after death.”
Neil felt suddenly very weary. It had been a long day. Tidying a few papers on his desk, he turned to grab his coat from the back of the chair.
“I understand what you’re saying, but sometimes, like today, I want to shout at God for letting such a thing happen. And even if he did need to take Ellen back to be with him, why did she have to suffer so much? She was an innocent. She’d never done anything to harm a soul, and yet she lived in pain for the few weeks she had on earth. Where’s the love in that? How can a loving Father let that happen?”
“Because he gives us free will, and Ellen’s illness wasn’t caused by God, but by human living. You know this, Neil. You must know it right at the heart of you – or you’re in the wrong job.”
He nodded.
“I’m just tired. I’ll head off home. See you in the morning.”
“It’s the civic carol service in the afternoon. You’ll need to be on the ball by then.”
“OK. I’ll be fine. Sleep well, Margaret.”
And as Margaret stepped out in front of him, Neil switched off the lights before closing the door.
CHAPTER 8
To Neil’s surprise, his mother decided to head back to Bristol before Christmas. He had to admit she’d mellowed a bit over her six-week stay in Dunbridge: not towards him, of course, because she never let up on her tirade of criticism and correction of her only son, but certainly towards others, especially Harry, Claire and Sam. Iris had spent a lot of time with Harry, ostensibly to help him in his recovery, but Neil and Claire shared the view that somehow Harry’s gentle company was helping in her recovery too. She smiled more. She nagged less. She even relaxed once in a while, which had Neil chuckling when, on several occasions, he caught her stretched out sound asleep on the lounge settee, her mouth wide open as she snored contentedly. So her sudden decision to return to Bristol was a surprise – and a double-edged sword of concern for Neil. On the one hand he was delighted to have his home back, but on the other he worried about what was actually going on in that complicated mind of hers.
“David is far from well,” she announced when Neil dared to broach the subject. “He’s my brother, the only living member of my immediate family apart from you. He needs me – which you don’t, as you make abundantly clear at every opportunity.”
“Well, if you’re sure. You know Harry and everyone else at the church would be glad of your company over Christmas.”
“Not you, though, Neil. It’s plain I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
Neil started to object.
“No, don’t argue! I’ve made up my mind. You can take me to Paddington first thing in the morning.”
And with that she went, leaving Neil’s house at 96 Vicarage Gardens feeling oddly quiet and empty, although, to be fair, he was rarely at home. Pastoral visits to the local hospital and hospice, and to congregation members at home or in residential care, preparation for funerals, marriages and christenings, his weekly services at their nearby sister church of St Gabriel’s, plus the organization of the weekly Evensong service using the traditional words of the Book of Common Prayer that had proved so popular with church members young and old – all this kept him very busy. And beyond work, he longed for the company of one person above any other: Claire.
The passion they’d rekindled before Ellen’s funeral had stayed with them, and they tried to spend as much time together as possible, often late at night when Neil had finally finished work and both Harry and Sam were tucked up in bed. They had decided to keep their relationship discreet for the time being – partly because Claire was naturally a private person, but mostly because they both recalled how the eyes of the whole congregation had been incessantly on Neil as he and Wendy had got to know each other the previous year. Although Claire pointed out that the pastime of match-making among the older ladies of the St Stephen’s community probably suited Wendy’s purpose very well, she recognized that it had left Neil feeling exposed, vulnerable and pushed into decisions he simply wasn’t ready to make at the time.
Harry knew of the growing closeness between his two favourite young people, of course. He said nothing, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his understanding and delight. As for Sam, with the simple logic of a six-year-old, he treated Neil as if he were just another member of his family, there to tell stories, play card games, read books and listen to his chatter without any sign of boredom. No question. No problem.
Being the only child of a dominating mother like Iris, who had deliberately sent her beloved son to an all boys school because she thought it would toughen him up for whatever manly career he chose in adulthood, Neil knew he’d had woefully little experience of being comfortable in the presence of women. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, or even that they didn’t feel drawn to him, but his clumsy shyness in social situations, especially in his younger years, had made him doubt that any woman would look at him twice.
“Perhaps that’s why Wendy swept me off my feet?” he confided to Claire one evening.
Claire shook her head. “I’ve known her a long time; enough to know that what Wendy wants, Wendy gets. She’s grown up in a Christian community. Her whole family spend just about all their time and energy in developing the music and worship at St Stephen’s. It’s only natural that the idea of being a vicar’s wife would appeal to her. You fitted the bill perfectly. No wonder she made a beeline for you.”
He grinned sheepishly. “So it wasn’t just that I was devilishly attractive and she couldn’t resist me?”
“More like wet behind the ears! You didn’t stand a chance once Wendy spotted you.”
He pulled Claire to him. “Good job you rescued me, then!” And the next few minutes were happily filled with the pleasure of being in each other’s arms.
However, their decision to keep their exciting new relationship to themselves for the time being meant that they both had to watch their words when they were in the company of others who knew them well. Neil became acutely aware of that when he met up with Graham for a quick game of darts one icy January evening. From the start, it didn’t take long to see that Graham was in the mood for celebration.
“We’ve got the house! The sales team for the new estate moves like greased lightning, as my mum would say. We get the keys for number 32 Snowdrop Close this coming Saturday!”
“So soon? Has Debs got you organized? Are you all packed up?”
Graham guffawed at the very thought. “Not a thing! I’m still trying to work
out what to do with the motorbike in the back room.”
“She won’t let you keep it in the new back room then?”
“She won’t even let me have it in the garage. Debs has got some quaint idea that the car should be in there!”
“Huh, how unreasonable!”
“Exactly, which is why I’m on the scrounge. Is there any chance I can put the bike in your garage – just for a while, you know, while I work out where else I could put it?”
“I don’t see why not, as long as you remember I’m only a curate for three years, and I’m halfway through that already. I’m definitely not keeping it, before you even ask.”
“Neil, mate, you’re a pal! Can you come and help me move it on Friday night?”
“I should think so.”
“And what are you doing on Saturday fortnight? The second weekend in February?”
Neil’s mind was racing as he tried to remember what was in the diary for that weekend.
“Can you come over to help us move? Bring your car, any cardboard boxes you’ve got, and every ounce of energy you possess.”
“I’ll need to check, but I think that should be OK – as long as you’ve finished by Sunday morning! I’ll be taking Morning Prayers at eight.”
“Debs and I will be tucked up in our new home then, thanks to great friends like you – and Wendy! She’s helping Debs pack up her stuff at her mum’s house, then the plan is that the four of us go out for a pizza when we’ve finished.”
“Right,” said Neil, trying to think on his feet. “I’m sure I’ll be able to lend a hand during the day, but the evening might be more difficult.”
“Why? You’ve just said you’re not busy until the next morning.”
“Yes – but, er …” Neil struggled to find the right words. “It’s just probably best if I don’t come out with you all that night.”
“Why ever not? Come on, Neil, spit it out! You’re being very mysterious!”
“Um, well, it’s just Wendy being there. Won’t her partner expect to be with her too?”
“Long gone, so Debs tells me. You don’t need to worry about him. Anyway, you said you’re over Wendy, so what’s your problem?”
“I have a feeling the problem might be more hers than mine. I’m certainly over her, but I’m just not sure she is actually over me.”
Graham lowered the hand in which his dart was poised for a bull’s eye while he considered that.
“She does ask about you quite a lot, and she doesn’t talk about that other chap at all, so you might be right. I must admit I did wonder that night at the barn dance if he was just there to make you jealous. So maybe she is still keen on you. I’ll ask Debs. She’ll know.”
“No! Please don’t say a word to Debs. I think it would be better, though, if I just turn up to help with your move during the day, but don’t do the social thing in the evening.”
“But you’ll be tired and hungry, and Debs and I will want to thank you for helping out. If you’re not interested in Wendy, just be polite, sit on your hands and don’t join in if she jumps on you for a snog!”
Neil groaned, knowing that Graham could hardly be blamed for his lack of understanding when no one had any idea about his feelings for Claire.
Something in Neil’s expression must have changed at the thought of Claire, because he looked up to find Graham studying him with curiosity.
“You’ve got someone, haven’t you?”
Neil had never been able to lie without going red to the earlobes, so he didn’t even try on this occasion.
“There is a girl I’m fond of, yes.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather not say. It’s early days…”
“Does Wendy know her?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s got no idea that the love of her life, her future vicar husband, is getting up close and personal with another woman – one she actually knows?”
“Please don’t say anything, Graham! We’re deliberately keeping quiet about things for a while because of this exact situation. Everyone felt they had the right to an opinion when Wendy and I were together and, in the end, it was probably that as much as anything else that pushed us apart.”
“Well, yes – and the fact that, delightful as Wendy is, she can be a pushy little madam.”
“Not at all. She’s a wonderful person, and I’ll never be able to thank her enough for her kindness to me, but…”
“But now you’ve met the real Miss Right, the spectre of Wendy glowering at the two of you from the sidelines might be less than helpful.”
“Exactly.”
“But what am I going to say to Debs when you back off the moment Wendy comes anywhere near you on our moving day? She’s sure to smell a rat!”
“I’ll come up with a decent and truthful reason why I need to leave. I know! I have to prepare my sermon for St Gabriel’s on Sunday!”
“Look, Neil, can’t I just explain to Debs? She might be able to soften the blow for Wendy – you know, tell her what a lucky escape she’s had in getting rid of you!”
“I’d rather Wendy knew nothing, for the time being at least.” Graham was suddenly serious. “I can’t lie to Debs, mate. I don’t want to.”
“Of course not. But please, just say nothing. Let me make my own tactful excuse for having to leave.”
Graham sighed heavily. “But you are still up for helping?”
“Definitely!”
“Friday night for the bike, and at my house first thing on Saturday morning?”
“I promise!”
“And will you also promise that I’ll be the first to know the secret identity of your mystery woman?”
Neil grinned. “Maybe.”
“Fine friend you are!” Graham was smiling too as he glanced down at his watch. “We’re just going to have to agree I won this darts match. I was thrashing you, of course, but after all this talking I’ve run out of time. Piles of marking to do. I hate teaching maths. Correction. I hate the kids I teach maths to, horrible little tykes!”
And as Neil watched his friend grab his coat and disappear with a wave, a twinge of foreboding sent a cold chill down his spine.
* * *
“That’s all settled then,” said Margaret, putting the lid back on her fountain pen. “You two will be married here at St Stephen’s on April 15th at two thirty in the afternoon.”
Peter and Val beamed at each other as they sat holding hands on the lumpy old settee in the vicarage sitting room, where Margaret usually met engaged couples as they made their wedding plans.
“What a happy occasion it’ll be!” continued Margaret. “Not that the end of a marriage is ever a cause for celebration, but under the circumstances, Peter, as Glenda was the one who chose to break her wedding vows by going off with another man, you have behaved very properly.”
“I feel as if I’ve lived under a yoke of unhappiness for many years,” replied Peter, turning to gaze tenderly in Val’s direction. “This wonderful woman’s changed all that. Thank God for second chances. I can’t wait for Val to be my wife.”
As if no one else were in the room, Val leaned forward to plant a loving kiss on his willing lips.
“Just a moment, you two! There’ll be time enough for that once you’re married. Now, Peter, I can leave the music choice to the two of you, can I? You’ll talk to Brian and Sylvia about hymns and anything you’d like the choir to contribute?”
“Certainly. And although you’ll be taking the service, I’d like Neil to read the lesson, if that’s all right with you. He’s been a great friend through this.”
“Then I’ll leave you to ask him about that too. Right then, you lovebirds, off you go! Frank’s got my lunch waiting in the kitchen.”
* * *
Just as Frank and Margaret were tucking into crusty rolls stuffed with ham and salad in the vicarage, Neil was pulling up outside the Mayflower, a large residential care home run by a Christian organization. It was a fairly new development which had
opened in stages over the previous two years. Residents who were able-bodied enough to have their own bed-sitting room with cooking and bathroom facilities were well settled in the largest wing, while those who were so frail that they needed twenty-four-hour nursing care had recently moved into the brand new block. There were also several rooms specially designed for the needs of patients suffering from dementia.
Over his months of visiting the Mayflower, Neil had come to look forward to meeting up with several residents he’d become very fond of. They were the Gaiety Girls, as they called themselves – four lively eighty-year-olds who were all game for a spot of “Knees Up, Mother Brown” whenever Tom, the only gentleman resident under the age of seventy, struck up the tune on the ancient piano kept in the far corner of the recreation room. Nothing pleased them more than a sing-song of everything from the Beatles to “songs from the shows”, and over time the care staff had come to realize that if the noise became a bit too raucous for other quieter residents, the only way to stop the Gaiety Girls was to announce a session of Bingo in the front room, and they’d be off in a flash, leaving Tom to wonder where everyone had gone!
The Girls loved Neil. They mothered and smothered him. They hugged and fussed over him. They wanted to know all about what was happening at St Stephen’s in particular and the town of Dunbridge in general. They were also the first to take their seats in the sitting room for the short Eucharist service that Neil led for the thirty or so residents who usually came along. Afterwards, accompanied by one of the nursing staff, Neil would wander along the corridors, popping in to say hello to residents who had not been able to come to the service themselves. He would sit beside them, chatting about everything from the weather and the menu at lunchtime to their worries about money, family and illness. Finally, he would take their hands and pray with them, offering them Communion if that was their choice.
He found the whole experience humbling and immensely moving. So many of the people he met there were stiff and racked with pain, often unable to walk or even get out of bed without help, and yet he’d learned to look beyond the frail body and muddled mind to glimpse the person they had been before illness and old age had claimed their health and contentment. Sometimes they would keep him for a longer chat, often astonishing Neil with tales of their youth or working life, and he would send up a silent prayer for them, knowing that there was a little of God in each and every one of them.
