by Ivan B
“Jasper? He’s usually quite placid. It takes a lot to annoy him.”
“Have you seen today’s local paper?”
“No.”
“Read it and you’ll see. But I phoned to warn you that one of the many bones he had to pick with me was about our relationship.”
“Our relationship? What does he know of our relationship?”
“Not much; someone told him about you leaving after our breakfast meeting last Tuesday, and don’t forget he was sitting next to us in the restaurant on Good Friday.”
“Oh Peter how do you do it? It was always the same at University, if anyone got into trouble for no reason it was you.”
“I thought I’d warn you in case he tackles you.”
“Jasper’s all right you know; he’s been very supportive of me here and I know at least two curates who owe their ministry to him.”
“I dare say, but he wants my head on a platter.”
“You mean he wants you to resign?”
“Too right.”
“Oh Peter, your not going to give it are you?”
“I didn’t say so when he was here, but he made it plain I had little choice.”
“Give it twenty-four hours, or even better forty-eight. The picture might change by then.”
“It might and it might not, but I don’t want you caught up in the cross-fire, that’s happened too many times in the past.”
“Don’t worry I’ll keep a low profile – must go before my sister buys up the whole of Aldeburgh. Bye.”
Peter put the phone down. Wise advice, he thought, he would wait two days before he did anything, after all it was the week after Easter, and traditionally all was quiet at this time of the year. He was still sitting in his study half an hour later when there was a gentle tap on the door. Aquinas leapt to his feet and wagged his tail furiously. Peter got up and opened the door. Jo was standing there like a little girl sent to the headmaster’s study.
“Peter, I’m so sorry. I took Aquinas into the shower and… ”
Peter held up his hand.
“It doesn’t matter Jo. I know it was all some sort of accidental happening.”
Jo looked up at Peter.
“I quite understand if you no longer wish me to act as your cleaner, I don’t want to cause you any further embarrassment.”
Peter smiled.
“I tend to cause my own embarrassment Jo; I usually don’t need any help. I don’t want you to resign, but you have to consider whether you want to continue working for me. The archdeacon clearly thinks that you are some sort of female acolyte and I don’t want you to be ashamed by working for me. In any case, it may not be for much longer.”
“You’re not really going to resign are you? Not go and leave us with the Mafia.”
“I may have no choice; I’m giving it forty-eight hours before I decide.”
“Well here’s one vote for you to stay.” Jo said fairly firmly, “No-one else has managed to do what you have done.”
Peter smiled again.
“Thanks, but it seems you may be a lone voice in the wilderness.”
Jo moved to the front door.
“I’ll be back next Tuesday to clean, and I shan’t expect payment for today it would be like thirty pieces of silver.”
Peter opened the front door and let Jo out. When she was just out of reach she said to herself, “female acolyte huh? Chance would be a fine thing!” and scurried down the drive.
The next day Peter was praying upstairs when the doorbell sounded. It was Mark. He was holding a newspaper and thrust it into Peter’s hands.
“Read the letters page,” he commanded, “and stop all this nonsense about resigning.”
Peter let him in and opened the paper. The letters page had six letters in his defense. The longest was from Bunty who clearly and eloquently disposed of the vomiting Damian and snap-happy Bill. She referred to Bill as ‘over-intrusive, un-diplomatic and self-important. But it was the two shortest letters that caught Peter’s eye. One was a short letter of apology from Kimberley’s father; the other was a letter of support from Henry and The Major, who also pointed out those matters of maintaining order in the church, was the responsibility of the churchwardens and not the vicar. Mark and Peter discussed the letters for some timebefore Mark left to go to work. Almost immediately the phone rang; it was Jane. She told him that she had let Jasper know in no uncertain terms that there was no hanky-panky going on between them and that they were old friends from University. She had also told him exactly what had happened with the churchwarden; Peter thought that she must have a good-grape vine. Jane did say one thing that caused Peter much amusement; she told him that on Saturday she was taking her sister back to the airport and Jasper was undertaking a wedding on her behalf – Bill Grunley was to be the photographer.
Peter then rang the Major to thank him for the letter of support; the reply was much as expected. The Major was as forthright as ever; “let me make it clear Peter I want you to go, but in all fairness the paper had reported the weddings in a sensational manner and on this occasion I felt you were not at fault.”
Mid-afternoon and the phone rang again, this time it was Jasper. Peter heard him take a deep breath in through his nose.
“Peter, I feel that I may have let my emotions get the better of me yesterday and I had not correctly ascertained some of the facts. You were probably not as much at fault about the wedding fiasco as I first thought.”
“So you don’t want my resignation?” Peter replied.
Jasper was quick to reply.
“I didn’t say that; I just said not all the facts were correct. I did see two nude ladies in your hall did I not? And you have entertained a bunch of lesbians have you not? Plus I believe you do have at least one young lady, who is not your wife or relative, staying with you. I still believe that you must consider your position.”
Early evening there was a knock at Peter’s door. It was the Bishop. Peter invited him in, as the Bishop entered, he rekarked, with a grin, that he was expecting the door to be opened by two ladies.
Peter was surprised the news had already reached the Bishop until the Bishop pulled out a letter and handed it to Peter. It was Samantha & Jo’s letter; in it they explained that the scene in Peter’s hall had been entirely their fault and they regretted getting him into trouble. When he had read the letter the Bishop took it back.
“I also gather that you have had a free and frank discussion with Jasper.”
“Well, Jasper was very frank and free, I just listened.” Peter replied.
“I take it you have a logical explanation for all you are accused of?”
Peter began. “I wasn’t drunk in the middle of the afternoon I -.” But the Bishop cut him short with a wave of his hand, “You don’t need to explain to me Peter, if you are happy before God that your actions have been reasonable, if somewhat misunderstood then stay.”
“Jasper is expecting me to resign.”
“Don’t worry about Jasper, worry about your relationship with God in all this and I’ll talk to Jasper. I’ll let him know that you are my appointment and that he had nothing to do with it as he was in Australia. If things go wrong it is on my head, not his.”
Peter was overwhelmed, here was the Bishop effectively putting his credibility on the line to support him.
The Bishop continued, “I do still believe that you are the right person for this parish; I know that you tend to be accident prone, but I also know that your heart is in the right place.”
The Bishop paused, and then shot a piercing look at Peter.
“But I must ask you one question, and I expect a straight reply. Are you carrying on with any member of the opposite sex here in the vicarage?”
“No. Unequivocally no.”
The Bishop smiled.
“I must ask a follow up question, but this is out of curiosity, you do not have to answer it. “Have you designs on any particular lady?”
Peter did not really know what to sa
y, he felt like telling the Bishop to mind his own business, but the Bishop was supporting him big time and Peter could not be offensive to him.
“There may be the stirring of designs, but at the moment I am hesitant.”
“Don’t hesitate too long Peter, he who hesitates often misses the moment, and the right moment is important.”
Peter nodded in agreement, once before in his life he had chosen the wrong moment and it had effectively left him high and dry, with no way forward.
Peter spent much time in prayer and reflection over the next twenty-four hours and by Saturday afternoon he had made up his mind. He first rang Jasper. He told him that he did not intend to resign. Jasper’s reply had been short and to the point; he had said somewhat brusquely that Peter could not expect his support if things went wrong. Peter then rang the Bishop, his reply had been equally short, but positive; “Good, just try avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Peter.”
“Yes”
“Don’t pause too long; a good woman might just prevent you making a fool of yourself with such monotonous regularity.”
Chapter 9
Drinking With Sinners
The following Monday evening was the designated time for the first meeting of the new Church Council and Peter decided that he would only use the morning for pastoral visiting and spend the afternoon on prayer and consideration of how to handle the meeting. However, when he arrived home just before lunch his hall was full of Baby buggies again: the Mothers and Toddlers had reconvened. Peter surveyed the hardware in the hall: eleven single buggies and two double buggies, so he reasoned that there were thirteen mums and fifteen children. He decided not to butt in on them and went into his study, but he did make a note in his diary that on future he ought to talk to the mums at sometime on a Monday. The meeting finished about ten minutes after he arrived and a continual stream of mums and toddlers started winding its way down his drive.
Then there was a knock on his study door and when he opened it he found a young woman in a wheel chair with a toddler on her lap. She wheeled herself into his study and Peter squatted down beside her. She had the ambience of a permanent wheelchair user.
“Hello I’m Carol and this is Justin.”
“Hi,” said Peter tickling Justin under the chin.
“I’m told you moved the group from the attic to the lounge just for us.”
“Not quite,” replied Petertruthfully.
“The attic was unsuitable in other ways, but especially the lack of easy access.”
Aquinas came in and sat on the other side of the wheelchair. Carol patted him and received a tail thump on the floor for her caress.
“Well, thanks anyway. There’s not many groups I can go to and I don’t want Justin to miss out just because his mum is in a wheelchair.”
“That’s OK.”
Carol concentrated on tickling Aquinas’ ears and without looking at Peter.
“There’s one other thing. Would you baptize Justin?”
Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Carol continued.
“I have asked before, but Revd Jones said no because I’m a single mum and he said he would not condone debauchery.”
Peter was appalled.
“Of course I’ll baptize Justin, and you can spread the word that I will baptize any child as long as the parents understand what it means.”
Carol smiled.
“Then would you baptize me as well? I’ve not been baptized and I can’t ask Justin to be baptized if I don’t do what I’m asking him to do.”
“Of course, it would be a great pleasure.”
“It doesn’t matter that I’m a single mum?”
“We all come to God as we are; there are no preconditions to his love. But I would like to visit you and talk about baptism and what it means.”
“I rather thought you would.” She paused and then continued, “Two of my friends were talking about having their children baptized too; could you see us all together?”
“Why not and why not after a Mothers and Toddlers; if you all stay behind I can have some sandwiches available and we can all talk it over then.”
She put her hands on her wheels.
“I’ll give you a ring and let you know how many of us there are,” she then started to back out of the study and Peter stood up. Carol stopped.
“Not many people do that.”
“Do what.”
“Come down to my level.”
Peter sat on the arm of his armchair, his back would not let him squat again.
“I spent nine months in a wheelchair and I have two lasting memories from the experience. Firstly everyone talks to whoever is pushing you; and secondly everyone towers over you.”
“How did you end up in a wheelchair?”
“I used to play rugby and one day I got sandwiched between two full-backs and a goal-post. How about you?”
“They found a tumor on my spine when I was twelve. They tried chemotherapy first, but decided that to fully remove it they had to take the risk of cutting into my spinal column. They got the tumor out, it was just above my pelvis, but damaged the nerves; I’ve not moved my legs since. But I was fortunate, it is only my legs, all my internal plumbing works OK”
“Was the tumor benign?”
“Thankfully, yes.” She looked at Peter, “It was over ten years ago now and I decided a few years ago to stop looking back and live life to the full. I didn’t expect to have Justin though I’d been told that the chemotherapy would prevent that; life has its unexpected bonuses.”
“It certainly does,” said Peter.
“See you next week. Justin, will you please let go of the dog’s ear, we can’t take him home!”
Peter showed her out and went to see Bunty in the lounge. She was sitting down in one of the armchairs looking like the cat that had just gobbled up the cream.
“Peter, however did you get Caroline to paint the lounge, it is wonderful.”
“How do you know it was Caroline?”
Bunty pointed to the bottom of a corner of the room. There on the wall was a picture of a brown dog sitting down and scratching its left ear. The dog appeared to be in a state of sublime contentment.
“It’s her signature; all her wall murals have it. That little dog has probably doubled the value of your house.” And she fell into a fit of giggles.
“Does she always use it?”
“Not always, only on a finished mural; I’m told if you have a practice mural it has a little boy eating a sandwich.”
She looked at Peter.
“Personally I don’t think it makes much difference after all several art-galleries proudly display Rembrandt’s test pieces.”
Peter laughed and then told Bunty of his conversation with Carol about baptism.
“You may get an avalanche of requests,” she said. “The Revd Jones was forthright in his views: he wouldn’t baptize any child that didn’t have married parents, and he wouldn’t marry couples that were living together.”
Peter grimaced, Bunty continued.
“But you may have a problem. He left for South Africa before a marriage policy was agreed with the Church Council, but he did get his baptismal policy agreed.”
“Great,” said Peter, “just great.”
Peter then changed the subject.
“How does Carol manage? A small toddler requires a lot of work.”
“She lives with her friend Jenny and her husband Joe. Carol’s got an adapted granny annex. It’s a study in true friendship: Jenny was her best friend at school and is about the only person who remained friends with her. If children don’t see someone they soon forget them, but Jenny was a true friend. It’s Jenny who massages Carol’s legs and it is Jenny who helps her during the day. They write children’s books, you know the thick-page type. Carol writes the stories and Jenny does the illustrations.”
Peter pondered this.
Bunty continued, but in a softer voice.
“It works both ways though.
Carol stood by Jenny when she too had problems of a different sort.”
Bunty suddenly became workmanlike.
“Peter this morning was a success, but we may become victims of it. I’ve probably got twice as many requests as we have places.”
“You mean can you run on Monday afternoons as well?”
Bunty grinned.
“Something like that.”
“My offer still stands use the room whenever you like, but not Thursdays or Fridays.”
“Thanks.”
After some more chit-chat with Bunty she left for home and Peter went back to his study to add one more item to his Church Council list; baptism.
That evening the Church Council convened and got off to its usual start of apologies and previous minutes. They soon got to item 4 - finance. Peter thought that he was going to have a battle on his hands over the investments, but he was wrong. At the end of his explanation of the church’s finances Sam produced a letter and announced that he’d prepared a draft letter to send on the church’s behalf. In it he’d asked Porlock, Whitby and Scanes to give a complete list of their use of our money by the end of the month threatened withdrawal. Sam looked around.
“ I’ve also stressed that we require our money not to be put into investments in the arms trade, tobacco products and where child labor is used. Is everybody happy with that?”
Everybody was, so Peter moved to the next item on the agenda, baptism.
“I see from previous church minutes,” he began. “That under the Revd Jones’ tenure a baptism policy was agreed that only the children of married couples would be baptized.”
He paused and opened up a folder in front of him.
“May I remind the Church Council that under Canon B22 section 4 I am not allowed to refuse baptism to any child living in the parish. Nor would I as I feel strongly that God’s love is open to all.”
He paused again.
“So are there any comments about this matter?” He asked tentatively.
Sam spoke first, “No problem.” then Henry, “agreed, no problem.”
Then the Major, “personally I was unhappy with the first decision. No problem.”