Felburgh

by Ivan B

  Sam suddenly let go the arms of the armchair and hugged himself.

  “We’d kept going to church; we probably weren’t the most regular worshippers in the world, but we used to go back to the church where we used to sleep. The Vicar there was always willing to listen and one Sunday I told him of our predicament. He asked me why I wouldn’t go home and I couldn’t give him a good reason. The next weekend I spent all our surplus cash on a journey home. It’s funny, but when you’ve been away people seem to age terribly and Mum and Dad seemed much older, but they welcomed us with open arms. Even my brother was pleased to see me. The farmhouse was large enough to swallow us up and my brother paid me to sort out his accounts. I suppose he put a word in for me with the young farmers and soon I had enough work for every day of the week. As soon as Samantha was born I married Wendy. I’d asked her before, but she’d always said no, not until we were certain of our love for one another; I guess she became certain.”

  Sam visibly relaxed arms by his side, eyes now open and looking out of the window at the departing mums.

  “The rest is history. My book-keeping work flourished and I even started calling myself an accountant, don’t worry I have passed all the relevant exams now, and Wendy and I stayed together, not out of mutual necessity but out of love. Little Sam came five years ago, just in time for my parents to see their latest grandchild; they both died the same year. At least I had time to tell them what great parents they were. My brother died too in a car accident, he never married; he always said that he envied me in that I’d made my own way through life and found myself a good wife in the process. To my knowledge he never once went out with a girl in all his forty-seven years.

  Sam stopped speaking, but Peter could see that he was still gently weeping. Peter waited for him to compose himself .

  “And what of Wendy and her parents?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “Wendy and I have no secrets, and we share everything and depend greatly on one another, but she never talked about her parents or mentioned them in any way for years. Just once, in those first few months in the crypt she said her parents had disowned her because of Ernest; then she never referred to them again. I did ask once or twice in the early years, but Wendy always shook her head and walked away. Then four years ago I spotted an advert from a group of London solicitors trying to trace a Wendy Dewdrop; it took her two days to summon up courage, but she contacted them. She had terrible trouble confirming her identity, but she knew enough about her parents to satisfy them in the end. They were administering her dad’s estate; he had left a will leaving everything to a cat’s home, but the signature had not been properly witnessed. The will had the same date as the day Ernest was born. The solicitor’s eventually passed on the whole estate to her, it was not very large, but it will pay for all the children to go through university, if they want to, and to be married. She called it poetic justice, especially as she used some of the money to fund Ernest to go to Michigan. They also passed to her a load of papers and photographs; she brought them home and then burned them without even looking at them. She said she would talk about it to me someday, but I doubt it; I think the scars are too deep.”

  Sam dried his eyes and blew his nose.

  “I’ve never told anyone before.”

  Peter understood well the hidden question.

  “And I, of course, won’t tell anyone.” He said softly.

  Peter became curious.

  “Have you ever told the children of how you met Wendy?”

  He grinned.

  “Not the grisly details, but the bare bones, we felt we had to when all the money suddenly arrived. It was good for Ernest because he could talk about his early memories, but I suspect the other two have no real idea of what it was like. I hope they never find out for themselves.”

  Peter and Sam then sat in silence for about ten minutes; their meditations eventually disturbed by the telephone. It was Henry obviously on a mobile phone.

  “Good news and bad news.”

  “Go on,” said Peter.

  “Good news is that they have backtracked on their fax and said it was a clerical error and that our funds with them were not invested in Eco-Mine.”

  “And the bad?”

  “They’re refusing to handle our account anymore if we are going to be so stropy. They have transferred all the money into our current account as of five o’ clock tonight.”

  “I thought that you could not do money transfers after four.”

  “If you’re transferring a third of a million you can. I’ve checked the bank account on the Internet; the moneys there all right.”

  “Thanks Henry. I think Sam owes you a pint.”

  “Tell him I’ll have a pint of Single Malt. Must go now; we are arriving at the hospital.”

  To say that Sam was relieved would be an understatement.

  As soon as Sam departed Charmian came out of the lounge.

  “That was really interesting,” she said; “babies really are the universal language.”

  She then told him about the afternoon session. It apparently started badly with the Mothers and Toddler’s breaking into two groups with refugees on one side and Felburghites on the other. Then after about half an hour one of the refugee’s toddlers messed himself and the mother had no spare nappies. One of the non-refugee mums offered her supply and that was the catalyst for some intermingling. By the end of the afternoon there was still wariness, but not as much as at first. Peter and Charmian then spent an hour planning the rest of the services for June and especially the second group baptism the following Sunday. By the time Charmian left Peter was feeling weary.

  Peter’s peace was short lived as the doorbell rang almost as soon as Charmian had left. Much to Peter’s surprise Anthony was back on the doorstep with his CPO sitting in the car. Peter invited him in, “Thought that you’d be back on your ship by now.”

  “So did I, but something’s came up.”

  “To do with HMS Cedd?”

  Anthony shook his head.

  “No, with me.”

  “Does your CPO want to come in?”

  “Probably not, were on our way to Northolt Airport, due to fly out at Midnight.”

  Peter grinned.

  “I think he might like to look in my attic.”

  “Your attic?”

  “Remember the artist? Your CPO has become a centurion.”

  Anthony raised an eyebrow and signaled to the CPO who came over.

  “Go and take a quick peek upstairs in the attic and study the centurion,” said Anthony.

  The CPO departed; again he did not raise an eyebrow at such a strange request. Anthony sat on the pew in the hall.

  “I’ve been offered a Commodore’s post and it’s all due to you.”

  “To me?”

  “You called me about HMS Cedd so they thought it expedient to us me as an interface between you and Navy Special Operations. While I was here a problem arose at Felixstowe Port and as I was on hand I got sent to sort it out. It proved to be quite a problem both in Navy and diplomatic terms, but we got it sorted. Because of that, they’ve offered me the Commodore Special Ops post for a tour of five years.”

  “Have you accepted?”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Alice is over the moon; she knows I can be pulled away at a moment’s notice to anywhere in the world, but if previous statistics are anything to go by I shall also spend more time at home.”

  Peter had a sudden thought.

  “And what about your CPO?”

  Anthony grinned.

  “He’s proved to be a useful chappie. I know that he has many talents, that’s why I brought him here, but on the Felixstowe job he proved invaluable both for his talents and for watching my back. He’s been offered a five year tour as well and will be my man Friday.”

  “Is he happy at that?”

  “Too true. His ticket was up in two months time and now he has another five years and a special extra pay allowance as well.
His wife is also relieved, she thought he might have trouble in civilian life; his real expertise is torpedoes and there’s not much call for that in the high street.”

  Anthony shifted slightly.

  “Can I use your loo?”

  “Of course, you know where it is.”

  The CPO came downstairs while Anthony was otherwise engaged.

  “Good psychological trick that,” he said, “to make one painting make you look at the other.”

  “What did you think of the centurion?”

  He seemed to grow about two inches.

  “Never been painted before. It feels good.”

  “In about six months time have a look in Alnwick Cathedral, that’s where the real mural will end up.”

  The CPO smiled.

  “So,” he said, “we’ll both end up on the wall there too.”

  Peter changed the subject.

  “I hear your moving billets.”

  He nodded.

  “Chance in a million; an exciting job with an officer I trust.”

  “He trusts you as well you know.”

  He slowly smiled.

  “I know; they wanted him to choose an officer to go with him, but he fought for me. I’ve ended up carrying a warrant, something I thought I would never do.”

  Anthony appeared .

  “Time to go”

  The CPO replied.

  “We haven’t checked the dog yet.”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Go and get the gear.”

  The CPO shot out and returned with a portable Geiger counter and they proceeded to check Aquinas with it.

  “Dog’s been lying on the hatch,” said Anthony, “if there’s any problem…”

  “All clear,” Said the CPO.

  Peter opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could speak Anthony said in that request/command manner of his, “Don’t ask.”

  So Peter didn’t

  “Right; we’ll go,” said Anthony, “Thanks for the call – it’s changed my life.”

  As they drove away Peter smiled to himself; Anthony had called to say goodbye, but also to check out something else. Peter now had an Inkling why HMS Cedd had been kept so secret.

  Peter then decided to relax and put the phone over to the answering machine; he paused and turned the machine off again. Henry had said he was arriving at the hospital and just in case he was needed… Peter then had a quick meal and went upstairs with the intention of watching a film; halfway up the CPO’s words hit him, ‘we’ll both end up on the wall there too’. He must have been referring to himself and Peter! Peter continued up into the attic and looked at the rear wall picture surmising that as it had the most faces that was where he would find his; but after over half an hours searching proving fruitless he moved to the painting of the crosses. He studied it minutely, each face that could be seen, but again to no avail. He decided that the CPO was wrong and was just about to step away from the painting when his eye caught a little child playing at his father’s feet. The father was too absorbed to watch the child and he was playing in the sand. A shiver ran down Peter’s’ spine as he looked at his own face; albeit his face of a few decades ago, it was definitely him.

  As Peter settled down to bed for the night he smiled ruefully. He had lectured Charmian that very morning about routine and relaxation. Monday was his pastoral visiting day and he had visited no one. He’d somehow worked most of the day, and he had not spent his usual time in reading and study. However, he did not feel that the day had been fruitless; after all, it is not every day that you see yourself as you were years ago and know that that is how people will see you for many years to come.

  Chapter 13

  Suffering and Anguish

  The following morning Peter was walking Aquinas as usual when he noticed that there were two bicycles leaning against the church porch. As he approached he could hear organ music coming from inside. As he got to the porch door he stopped, the music was a Scott Joplin rag; Peter paused while he searched his mind for the title, it was Maple Leaf Rag. Peter looked at the bicycles, one he recognized as Dan’s old small wheeled folding bicycle, the other was a smart mountain bike with front and rear suspension plus the biggest cycle lock Peter had ever seen. Peter crept into the back of the church taking care not to make a noise. By the time he was sitting down David had moved to the grand piano and he rattled off the piece again at what Peter thought was a hell of a pace. Dan borrowed the music and played the same piece again on the organ, again at a searing pace. David laughed, “OK,” he said, “You’ve convinced me. The organ can be just as fast.”

  David then went and joined Dan at the organ again and they played the piece together as a twosome, David playing the normal tune and Dan operating the stops and adding various twiddly bits. They were clearly enjoying themselves. When they had finished that piece Dan pulled out another piece of music and placed it on the organ desk. He started to play and Peter instantly recognized the Radetzky March, a wedding favourite. Dan, as usual, played magnificently; this was not an easy piece and Peter had heard in mangled too many times for comfort, but Dan made it look easy. Dan reset the stops and moved over. “Don’t worry about the stops, “he said, “just follow the music, and don’t forget the keys are not touch sensitive they are either on or off.”

  David tried the piece; he was awful. David moved back to the piano and tried there, he was still awful. Surprisingly they both laughed and David put the music in his backpack and made for the back of the church; he laconically waved as he passed Peter. Peter went up to talk to Dan.

  “Budding organist?” He said.

  Dan looked surprised to see Peter.

  “He had a word with me last Sunday after the baptism service and said he would like to try the organ.”

  Dan looked a bit sheepish and continued.

  “I’ve known him for about four years, and he came to me for piano lessons for a couple and was one of the best pupils I ever had. He has that knack of being able to interpret the feel of the notes on a score, not just play them rigidly.”

  “But he stopped coming?”

  “I think his parents could not afford it any more, especially as they were supporting him through the last year of sixth form. At the time I did offer to teach him for free, but they said he should concentrate on his studies.”

  “But he’s obviously kept it up.”

  Dan smiled,.

  “He got the music teacher at the school to teach him in the lunch time in return for playing at assemblies and school concerts.”

  “Will he make a good organist?”

  “Hard to say, he’s got to make the shift from a touch sensitive instrument to one where the keys are on or off. He’s also got to learn that if you hold a key down the note is sustained. But I reckon that if he really wants to do it he can.”

  Dan suddenly raised his eyebrows.

  “You don’t mind do you?”

  Peter laughed.

  “Of course not. But teach him a few modern hymns in the process, he plays for me on Saturday evenings at The Fisherman’s Friend.”

  Dan raised his eyebrows.

  “I wondered why he was there on Sunday.”

  They talked for a little while longer and then Peter took Aquinas home for his morning Digestives and milk.

  Peter arrived home shortly after Jo arrived for her Tuesday cleaning, so they talked a little while Peter fed Aquinas and then Peter went into his study. This was his day for study and sermon preparation, but like yesterday things did not quite go according to plan. Almost as soon as Peter had opened his Bible the doorbell rang. Peter opened the door and two men immediately pushed their way in. They pushed Peter back until he was standing against the hall wall and one of them stood each side of him. They were the sort of men that Peter thought only existed in the minds of crime-writers. They had hard looking faces and mean dispositions. Peter had no doubt that they could tear him limb from limb and not shed a tear in the process. The taller of the two growledat
Peter.

  “We want a word with you. We want our money.”

  Peter managed to stutter.

  “Money? What money?” But he had no doubts in his mind what they meant.

  The shorter placed his face a couple of inches away from Peter .

  “The money we lent your predecessor. He sort of didn’t pay us back, so now we’ve come to collect.”

  Before Peter could gasp anything out Jo appeared from the kitchen.

  “Is everything all right Peter?”

  The short man spun round and said menacingly.

  “Get lost missy if you want to retain your looks,” and then added, “such as they are.”

  To Peter’s relief she scuttled back into the kitchen. The tall one called out after her.

  “And don’t be silly enough to go phoning anyone, we can always come back.”