by Ivan B
Henry got up and started walking around.
“Then when I was in my mid-forties two things happened. Firstly I took on the case for a church that was threatened by an inner city ring road. The council was pressing strongly for the road to be constructed, but the church was in the way. Because it was a listed building the council could not demolish it as they really wanted to do, along with the surrounding houses. Instead, their solution was to place the church on a roundabout with subway access. The church was an inner-city church, the road would be appallingly busy, and it was obvious that the congregation would have severe problems if the scheme ever materialised. There was an alternative scheme, namely building an underpass beneath the church and community, but the council had declared it was vastly too expensive. I had a number of meetings with the church minister and the church council. They insisted that we always start in prayer and that I conduct the case in a spirit of charity. I was not allowed to vilify the council, or any of its employees. I was not to employ any underhand tactics and I was told to rely on God for my strategy. I thought they were stark raving mad. However, I thought that the Council were being far too overbearing and it was exactly the sort of case I liked to champion. Because I needed to get the feel of the situation, and build up my case, I attended the Sunday services and dropped in during the week to see what was going on. I soon realised that these people had something I didn’t have - contentment. I had money in bucket-loads; I had a profession I enjoyed, but they had contentment. To cut a long story short we won the case so comprehensively that the Council didn’t even bother to appeal. And I found peace and rest in God. I remember kneeling at the front of the church the day after we won the case and telling God that I’d been a jerk. That I’d had my eyes set on the wrong kingdom and that from now on I was giving my life to Him. I have never regretted that decision, not once.”
Henry once again looked at Peter, “But, I’m terrified that I’ll ram God down my children’s throats so hard that they’ll rebel and walk away from him.”
Henry sat down again.
After a long pause Peter said “and what else happened?”
Henry beamed, “I met Caroline. I first met her when the chambers employed her as a junior clerk. We had taken on a large number of similar, if somewhat small, cases to try and bring one large case against a drug conglomerate. This meant that we needed extra help in filing and collating the paperwork. Caroline was employed on a temporary basis straight from school. She was only just sixteen, but had a number of GCSEs. Our first meeting was a disaster; I was searching on the file for O’Malley and I could not find it. It had been misfiled and put in with the general Os rather than at the front of the Os. I was in a hurry, frazzled and tired; I’m afraid I shouted that at least we ought to employ people who knew the alphabet. The following morning as I entered the building I was tackled in the corridor by Margaret our senior clerk. She tore me off a strip, saying that if I had a complaint about the administration could I have the courtesy to tell her and not drive the junior staff to tears by shouting. She also made it plain that I needed to apologise as I was the only person in chambers who filed the O’ names before the general Os and it caused confusion all round. In all my time at the chambers I had never seen her so mad. I turned round, went out, and came back with a bunch of a dozen white roses, which I placed on Caroline’s desk with a note of apology. She came to my office about an hour later and thanked me personally and saying that I need not have gone to all that bother. I don’t know to this day what possessed me but I replied that flowers were not enough for the hurt I’d caused and insisted on taking her out for lunch. She insisted it was too much and we haggled down to sandwiches in the park. We had sandwiches in the park every Tuesday for three months after that. Then I did manage to get her to have a meal in a restaurant with me. The rest is history. We married two years to the day after I took her to lunch in the park.”
Henry looked intently at Peter again, “I don’t want you to think of me as a cradle snatcher, we fell in love and she proposed to me on St Valentine’s Day knowing that I would never have the nerve to ask her because of the age difference. It hasn’t been all easy; her father wouldn’t come to the wedding saying that he would not give away his girl to someone that was old enough to be her grandfather. We’re on good terms now, but it took ten years to bring him round.”
Henry stopped for a second, “I’m terrified that I’ll cause my children as much pain as Caroline’s father caused her.”
He stood up to walk round again. “We’ve have had twenty happy years. I cannot believe that I have been fortunate enough to be in love at an age when most people are starting to enjoy their retirement, and in love with someone who I believe is in love with me. But the age gap brings its problems. Do you realise that I’ll be in my eighties when my child finishes school? I’ll probably never see them married. There’s also the worry, the deep worry that I’ll become senile and Caroline will be shackled to a doddering old wreck while trying to raise a child and managed the house.”
He paused, “And I’m terrified of childbirth; supposing Caroline or the child or both died. What then?”
Peter asked, “What does Caroline say about all this?”
“She says that if she were sixteen now she would still marry me, and that we are just to leave it all in God’s hands and stop worrying about things we can’t change. But I can’t help worrying. What should I do?”
Peter answered softly; “I don’t usually give advice Henry, and people don’t listen to it anyway. But I would say that Caroline’s answer is probably the best I could manage, and remember Rome wasn’t built in a day. Just take one step at a time, and trust God for the next one.”
Henry nodded, and then looked at his watch. Peter took the hint and left him locking up.
That evening Peter attended a cheese and wine evening at Glumburgh Parish Church. The congregation had asked him to join them so that he could mingle with them in an informal situation. Peter enjoyed the evening immensely and it was always good to see Jane.
Chapter 6
Discovery
The following morning, it being a Tuesday, Jo arrived as usual to clean. As soon as she entered the house she knew something was wrong. For a start there was no music emanating from the study where Peter usually had his old battered wind-up radio tuned to a classical music station. Secondly Aquinas was lying in the door of the kitchen and looking miserable; he just about managed a wag of his tail as Jo approached him. She walked past Aquinas into the kitchen and froze. Peter was hunched up on the floor in a foetal position with his back against the freezer. His face was an ashen grey with a tinge of green and he wasn’t moving at all. Jo studied him closely; he was breathing, but only shallow breaths.
“Peter, are you all right?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question because he obviously was not at all right.
Peter stirred and looked at her with unfocussed eyes.
“Migraine, I’ve got a migraine.” He managed, with a sort of hushed groan,
“Can I do anything?”
“Please take the dog for a walk, if you don’t mind.”
Jo did as she was asked and grabbed Aquinas’ lead and took him for a walk. He was considerably reluctant to leave Peter, but once outside soon got into his ambling gait. She had no idea how long to walk such a huge dog so she walked him to the sea front and back; it took an hour.
Once back inside the house, after carefully wiping Aquinas’ paws in the utility room, she went back into the kitchen. Peter was still on the floor holding his head, but his time he looked up as she entered.
“How are you?”
Peter managed a semblance of a smile.
“Dreadful.”
“Can I do anything?”
“In the bathroom can you please get the pink tablets from the cabinet?”
Jo went upstairs and opened the cabinet, in it were various bibs and bobs and a bottle of prescription painkillers; they were pink. Jo took two down to Peter and gave t
hem to him with a glass of water. He took them, but clearly had difficulty in swallowing them.
“Sorry,” said Peter, “Sorry if I gave you a fright. It’s cold here; I like it cold when my head goes bang.”
“Bad?” asked Jo
“‘Bout ten on the Richter scale.” Then with a speed that amazed her he suddenly jumped up and sprinted to the downstairs toilet. Seconds later she could here him retching. She was at a total loss. She had had a migraine once in her life following a midnight snack of half a pound of cheese and the remains of a bottle of red wine. She still remembered the excruciating pain in one side of her head, the discomfort of light in the eyes, and the ability to be totally disturbed by a clock ticking in the adjacent room. But Peter’s migraine looked even worse.
Peter appeared from the toilet looking greyer than ever and sat back on the floor.
“Can’t keep the tablets down. Could you try and find my inhaler for me?”
“Where did you last have it?”
Jo thought that Peter was not going to reply, but eventually he half groaned a reply, “In the main bedroom I think.”
Jo went upstairs and went into the main bedroom. She did not know what to expect in this previously forbidden room and found what she did not expect. In the centre of the room was a battered old leather sofa facing a totally white wall. Around the room were eight large loudspeakers and a satellite dish looking out through the window. Behind the armchair was a pair of large bookcases placed back to back; on top of these was what looked like a slide projector. One of the bookcases was stacked with hi-fi equipment, a DVD player, a video player, and a satellite receiver. Jo was no hi-fi buff but she realised at once that this was all serious equipment; not the sort you’d find in the local hi-fi shop. Then the light dawned; it was the mother of all home cinema systems. Jo walked over to the settee and felt round the edges of the cushions; in amongst the usual detritus was a blue inhaler. Jo took it back to Peter.
Back in the kitchen Peter hadn’t moved, but he took the inhaler from Jo and used it three times.
“Anything else?” she asked.
Peter shook his head slightly.
Jo made up her mind what she would do.
“Now I’ve been in there I’m going to dust the main bedroom, its knee deep in dust. I won’t make a noise and I’ll come and check you in an hour.”
With that she grabbed some dusters and polish and went upstairs. To be truthful Jo had had a horrid thought; just what did Peter watch on this home cinema system that he was so secretive about? She hoped beyond hope that it was not what her worst fears said it was. Once back in the main bedroom Jo took time to have a good look round. Between the three speakers along the back wall were two more bookcases. One was full of DVDs; there seemed to be the complete works of Shakespeare, nearly all of Sean Connery and Michael Caine’s films plus a fair smattering of Clint Eastwood and a selection of sci-fi films plus all the Star Trek films. All of them were published recordings; none of them had been recorded of the TV. The second bookcase was full of white DVD cases with a cryptic hieroglyphic on each spine. ‘No Peter, please no’ she said to herself as she studied the annotations. ‘Spa 89, H/ring 92, Im 98, and so on. Then she realised that she was reading vertically down the shelves, but if you read horizontally there were a dozen or more tapes for each year. She pulled one out that said ‘Sil, 97’ on the spine. The front cover was more expansive it read ‘British – Silverstone 13th July 1997’ and there was a list underneath that read: ‘Villeneuve, Alesi, Wurtz, Coulthard, R Schumacher, and Hill. Jo sighed with relief; this was not pornography it was motor racing. She put the DVD back. Peter certainly was serious about it. There were individual DVDs from the mid-eighties onwards and pre-recorded compilation DVDS for the previous thirty years. Jo suddenly felt guilty about prying into Peter’s personal life and set about dusting the room with vigour. It obviously hadn’t been touched since Peter moved in and needed a good vacuum as well; but she couldn’t do that as she knew the noise would disturb Peter.
About an hour later, Jo went back downstairs and found Peter sitting on the pew in the hall. His normal colour had almost returned, but he was still obviously unwell. Peter grimaced and told her through gritted teeth that he was going to bed and would be OK now. With that he walked up the stairs, holding on to the banisters as if his life depended upon it. Jo wondered how many migraines he got, if he had tablets and an inhaler it certainly wasn’t the odd one or two.
Two days later Jo returned equipped to bath Aquinas, but as soon as she entered the house she knew that was probably not going to happen. Music was drifting out of the study and that meant Peter was at home. Jo had found out that the easiest way to bath Aquinas was to take him into the downstairs walk-in shower; she usually did this in the nude and would not do it if Peter was home. Peter appeared from the study looking sheepish.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Not too bad, a heavy migraine always leaves me feeling like a limp lettuce for a few days, so I cancelled today’s committee meeting. Fancy a coffee?”
They both made their way to the kitchen. As Peter put the kettle on he looked at Jo; today she was not wearing any make-up at all, but he had an inkling as to the reason why.
After they had exchanged a few pleasantries Jo said remarked casually that he certainly had a grand home cinema system, but we make it a mystery?”
Peter looked embarrassed and sighed.
“Two reasons, really. Firstly it’s an expensive piece of kit and I had my last system nicked two days before I moved here. Secondly I’m a bit embarrassed about it: it seems a total extravagance, but it’s one of the few ways I find to relax.”
“You like Sean Connery then?”
“Him and a few others.”
“No females?”
Peter laughed, “Of course, but I haven’t collected their films in the same way; although I have got a few with Dame Judi Dentch. How about you, who’s your favourite actor?”
“Meryl Streep” Jo said without hesitation.
“Have you seen ‘Bridges of Madison County?” he responded. “With her playing the farmer’s wife? It’s an excellent adaptation of Robert Waller’s book Love in Black and White.”
Jo shook her head.
“No, I don’t get to the cinema much and watching films on our 12″ portable TV doesn’t seem the same.”
“Right,” said Peter throwing the remains of his coffee away and opening the freezer at the same time. “I’m declaring a morning off. I feel like over stewed rhubarb and you don’t feel like attacking Aquinas with me around.” At which point he dragged a bag of microwave popcorn out of the freezer and threw it in the microwave. “Can’t watch a film without popcorn”
Jo started to protest that she couldn’t take his money to sit and watch films!
“Oh yes you can, the boss won’t complain.” He muttered just as the microwave beeped and Peter pulled out the bag of popcorn and dropped it into a cereal bowl.
They both went upstairs and Peter sat Jo in the sofa while he found the DVD and got the equipment working. He pressed a button on a remote control unit and a warm glow covered the white wall. Peter walked across and pulled the curtains, they were designed to loop round the satellite dish and were quite thick.
“Have to pull the curtains,” he said, “it’s a state of the art projector, but it can’t compete with the power of the Sun.”
He flopped down beside her and placed the bowl of popcorn in her lap.
“Ready?”
“I can’t possibly eat all this popcorn.”
“Well I can’t eat it; my stomach is still far too delicate.” At which point he pressed the remote and the room went black.
Jo was surprised at how dark the room was and although she couldn’t see him she knew Peter was only inches away. Then the film started. It was amazing; with the wall to wall picture and the surround sound you could be there in the kitchen with Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. Soon she was totally lost in the film and was
quite surprised when it came to the end. After a few seconds the projector reverted back to its soft light mode. The bowl in her lap was empty, and Peter had not moved a muscle.
“Good film?” said Peter.
“Better than I imagined, but so sad, even when her husband died she never tried to contact him.”
Peter got up and put the DVD back in its case.
“Peter this system is wonderful.” She said softly.
“Yes,” he said, “but it has its drawbacks. The Gettysburg scene in Gone With the Wind is almost too painful to watch, and I would not consider letting any youngsters watch horror movies on it.”
“How often do you use it?”
“Couple of times a week. I also use it as my TV, but normally project a smaller picture.”
“Is that picture quality?”
“No, it’s just that somehow it feels better that way unless it’s a movie.”
They left the room and went back downstairs; Jo gathered up her bags and went to the front door. “Thanks Peter that was good of you, but we can’t make a habit of it.”
“One-off special” he replied, “until Christmas that is!”
Jo laughed and walked out of the door, and then she stopped, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Almost forgot, Danielle is doing a local history project at the moment on the second world war, she said ‘did you know that your house was used by the Navy and used to have a basement?’”
“No, no idea.”
“Bye”
Peter closed the door and ambled back into his study. He’d seen the film at least twice before and it was worth watching again, but Jo had been enraptured.
Half an hour later Peter suddenly stopped working and looked at Aquinas.
“Just how,” he said to the unresponsive beast. “Just how does a house used to have a basement? Either you have one or you don’t have one; it couldn’t just disappear.”