Sucking Sherbert Lemons

by Michael Carson

  But Novvy did not touch him, and Joachim saw Novvy seated with Brother Michael by the wireless in the Brothers’ Parlour, weeping to ‘War Requiem’. He could not tell him. He just could not. It was impossible. And, as he made the decision, he knew that he would surely live to regret it.

  “No, Brother. Thank you.”

  “Right you are. You’d better go and join the other novices in the chapel. It will be time for cross-country soon. You’ve got ‘War Requiem’ to look forward to. Try to be cheerful, Brother. All for Jesus!”

  “Now and Forever!” replied Brother Joachim.

  In the chapel the novices were bent low over their copies of Self Abandonment to Divine Providence. Quietly and carefully, he manoeuvred himself past Brother Ninian, who was slobbering onto his book as he slept. He hardly stirred at the disturbance.

  Joachim opened the book at his place, marked by a picture of St Thérèse. He read for a while but could not concentrate. The book had no good bits at all – no martyrdoms; no miracles; nothing at all to get excited about.

  He closed the book and gazed up at the tabernacles on the altar, seen between the lolling heads of Brother Bosco and Brother Aiden. Behind the red curtains, he knew, dwelt God. There could be no doubt of it. Behind the locked door, cradled quietly in the dark and the silence, dwelling in the white bread of the Host, was the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus, his Best Friend and Only Hope.

  He stared at the tabernacle unblinkingly. He repeated. “Help me!” until Novvy came into the chapel quietly and told the novices that it was time for cross-country running.

  And it was wonderful to run and not to tire. Then it was wonderful to tire but not to have to stop running.

  The dying autumn leaves crackled beneath his feet as he ran down the footpaths. The trees in a canopy above his head seemed to race past him, dissolving into fantastic shapes as they disappeared behind him into memory. Behind them the sky was as blue as Mary’s mantle. Late birds fled from the path as Joachim sped towards them.

  He was alone now. Other novices ran ahead and others behind. He had carved out a place between the groups. In no time at all his mood had lifted. He felt cheerful and well, just a running body, aware of who he was, but only in a general, unworrying way. He looked at himself from afar and was happily unable to focus on the details which might startle him.

  After twenty minutes he came to the hollow tree, an elm, and stopped running. He took up his station in the tree, like a soldier on guard. There, hidden, he let the other novices pass and waited for Ninian.

  He had to wait over five minutes and was beginning to get cold. The sun had dropped in the sky and a premonition of how cold it would become once it had set came over him, making him shiver in anticipation.

  Then Ninian came straight to his hiding place. “I thought you might not be here!” he said.

  “Why? I always wait here, don’t I?”

  Ninian smiled. “Yes, you do. It was silly of me to worry but you were upset today, weren’t you? I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to stop today.”

  Joachim punched Ninian in the arm. “You know I’d never leave you to run back by yourself.”

  Ninian rubbed the spot where he’d been punched as if he were buffing a campaign medal. “Yes, but with all this talk of PFs and you getting upset at lunch, I thought you’d be angry with me. You aren’t, are you?”

  “No, I’m not angry with you.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  They headed off through the wood along a path they knew, a short cut which would bring them out close to St Finbar’s. They would be way behind everyone else, but not so far as if they had taken the full route, and close enough that no questions would be asked.

  Ninian took Joachim’s hand and they walked on for a while in silence, synchronising their paces. Then Ninian asked, “Joachim, do you understand that Self Abandonment to Divine Providence?”

  “Some of it, yes.”

  “I can’t understand a word.”

  “That’s because you fall asleep.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Make an Act of Contrition.”

  Ninian did so:

  “O my God, because Thou art so good, I am very sorry that I have sinned against Thee; and, by the help of Thy Grace, I will not sin again.”

  “Good.”

  Ninian squeezed Joachim’s hand hard and was startled when Joachim pulled it away.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You shouldn’t do that!”

  “I was only playing. We’re like David and Jonathan, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, I know, I’m sorry, Ninian.” But he did not take the other boy’s hand again. They walked along the footpath, keeping a space between them.

  At last Ninian asked, “So tell me, what’s been happening? I’ve been worried about you. And when you’ve told me your news I’ll tell you mine.”

  “No, you tell me yours first,” said Joachim sulkily.

  “All right. But first you must promise that if I tell you mine you will tell me yours straight afterwards.”

  Joachim took a deep breath and then sighed, “Oh all right...”

  “Well, Brother Ralph was talking to me during wash-up.”

  “He shouldn’t have been.”

  “Well he was ... anyway, he says that one of the novices is leaving!”

  “No! Who?”

  “He wouldn’t say, but I think it might be Henry.”

  Joachim made a face. “Henry! He’s the last one who would leave. What would become of his sanctity then? No, you’re wrong.”

  Ninian pursed his lips and kicked at a pile of dead leaves in the path. Then he brightened and said: “Well, that’s my news. How about yours?”

  Then it was Joachim’s turn to kick dead leaves: “I don’t think I can tell you.”

  “But you promised!”

  “Well ... you know I told you about my Great Temptation... “

  “Yes, and I told you it was just a stage.”

  “Well temptation has penetrated the monastery. The Devil has found me even here.”

  “The Devil’s good at that. But how do you mean?”

  “Brother Michael’s been talking to me.”

  “Only talking! He pinches me whenever he gets near me!”

  Joachim stared at Ninian. “He does what?”

  “He pinches me and strokes my hair too if I let him.”

  “And do you let him?”

  “Well I don’t stop him. He calls me ‘My little angel with the brown eyes and the blond hair’. He says I’ve been sent to the monastery to give light to his declining years.”

  “He doesn’t!”

  “He does!” replied Ninian matter-of-factly.

  “And what do you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t!”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

  Joachim did not know what to reply. Instead he got down onto his knees on the path and motioned Ninian to do likewise. After some hesitation Ninian joined him.

  Joachim gazed upwards through the autumnal canopy of trees to the sky, and past the sky to heaven. There in his imagination sat Christ and His Mother on their thrones looking depressed at what was taking place on the footpath near St Finbar’s. Behind them Benson saw a bearded St Joachim whispering conciliatory words into Mary’s ear. But Mary had a sad face, probably due to the fact that Her blessed heart had a dagger right through it. Joachim knew that it was the sins of the world that had placed that dagger there and that now he and Ninian had given it a cruel three-hundred-and-sixty-degree twist.

  After making sure that Ninian’s head was bowed, Joachim bowed his own.

  “O blessed St Joachim, please ask your Holy Daughter, our Blessed Mother, Mary, to intercede for us with your Grandson, her Bles
sed Immaculately Conceived Son, Jesus, who, for our sins, suffered an excruciating death on Calvary for our sakes, to please look down with pity upon Ninian and I, two erring sheep who totter on the brink of the everlasting bonfire, and grant us the strength to resist manfully the wiles of our great enemy, Satan, for we know that without your help, we will inexorably be lost and consigned to the depths of hell for all eternity. Amen,” prayed Brother Joachim.

  “St Ninian, pray for us!” added Ninian, somewhat more succinctly.

  For a long moment Joachim stayed where he was, eyes cast down, hands joined devoutly in front of him.

  Ninian broke the spell. “You’re getting as bad as Henry,” he said.

  Joachim chose to ignore the remark. “Come on, let’s run. We’re going to be late.”

  Ninian stood watching Joachim running away along the footpath. The tower of St Finbar’s could be seen in the distance through the trees. But Brother Ninian did not attempt to follow him. Instead he shouted, “You don’t really love Jesus, Brother Joachim! For you He’s just another bully! You’re scared stiff of Him! You can’t be His friend if you’re scared! You can’t be anybody’s friend if you’re scared!”

  But, if Joachim heard his friend’s shout, he did not let on. His thoughts were still fixed on the depressed trinity behind the sky.

  *

  The novices showered after cross-country, wearing for modesty’s sake voluminous black bathing costumes kept in a bin near the showers for that purpose and used communally. Then they said the Rosary outside, walking round and round the building, through the gardens, with Novvy leading the prayers and striding out in his aged, shining black boots.

  There then followed a Bible Study class which led to a bread-and-butter tea. When the tea things had been washed up, a twenty-minute recreation period was allowed.

  Joachim walked into the Novices’ Room. He saw that Ninian was sitting at his desk chatting to Brother Aiden. He did not want to talk to Ninian and looked around for other company. Brother Egbert was by himself, writing in a notebook, Brother Egbert was usually by himself.

  It occurred to Joachim that he could kill two birds with one stone by going over to talk with Brother Egbert: he could do a good deed by talking to the novice whom everyone found to be heavy going, and he could show Ninian that he was not pleased with him.

  However, any satisfaction he may have felt soon paled when confronted by the actuality of twenty minutes of Brother Egbert’s conversation.

  After five minutes of agony, listening to Brother Egbert expounding on the merits of the Douai Translation of the Bible over the King James Version, Joachim made an excuse and left.

  He fled back to Ninian, made friends with him and spent the rest of the time swopping Holy Pictures. The time flew by.

  It was ten p.m. The novices sat in a semicircle around Novvy, who presided over the Black Box stereo player. It was an unheard-of time for them to be still up. Not since the day trip to Walsingham had the novices been up so late.

  Novvy read from the libretto the conclusion of ‘Strange Meeting’.

  He did not say anything else. He knew his audience and knew that the music was moving, teaching some of them; felt that he had sown a seed for music that would last for life. He had given a short introduction to each section of ‘War Requiem’ and then left the music to work its magic.

  He looked from face to face of the group of novices in front of him. They were just children, he thought. It would be his tenth group, and over the years he had been saddened that so few of the youngsters who thought they had a vocation to be a Brother had managed to continue as far as Final Vows. The vast majority would leave long before they took those last binding vows. Then what would happen to them?

  Side four of the work began. The orchestra, chorus and soprano started the ‘Libera Me’ and the room shook with the sound. Novvy wondered for a moment what the rest of the Brothers trying to sleep upstairs would make of the loud music coming from the Novices’ Room. But he decided they would just have to offer it up. A novice, the first from this group, was leaving tomorrow; a novice for whom he had been unable to feel much affection, and one whom he knew would quickly fall away. Still, he would leave him with a few memories to hold on to. This ‘War Requiem’ would be one of those memories. What would become of the kid once back in the world? If what he heard from the Brothers was anything to go by, for a few months he would stand out and be conspicuous for his piety. Then, slowly but surely, the world would take its toll. A reaction would set in. The detailed knowledge of the Church he had gained in the Novitiate would be used to argue against that Church. He would need to gain popularity with his sceptical schoolmates. He might even lapse from the Faith completely. Now most of them did not know who they were or what they were. Trying to keep them sober and moderate, to banish their youthful tendencies towards extremes, was an uphill, no, an impossible, task. He had done his job as well as he could because he had vowed to obey.

  The tenor had begun to sing ‘Strange Meeting’. Novvy looked over at Joachim. The tears were rolling down his cheeks. He had attempted to cover them at first but now was weeping unashamedly. The lad needed to weep, Novvy thought. It was a pity that his mother was not there to be wept upon. He knew that something was eating into the kid which he could not understand or deal with. He wished he could. Whatever it was that was consuming him would just have to consume him. Perhaps he could come out on the other side cleansed.

  The music was coming towards its conclusion. He prayed that the lads in front of him, no matter where they ended up, would continue to search. One or two of them, he knew, were on the right path already, had chosen right first time. But the rest? They would have to unpack and repack many times before their quest was through. Some would not have the strength and would settle for the path of least resistance.

  The music faded away and left a silence hanging in the air of the Novices’ Room which seemed to spread through the fabric of the building in waves and out towards the world beyond its gates.

  “Let us sleep now ... All for Jesus!”

  “Now and Forever!” replied the novices and they left in silence.

  The Great Silence had taken effect for another night at St Finbar’s.

  Joachim lay down to sleep on the narrow bed in his cell. He crossed his arms over his breast and prayed the prayers of his childhood. He blessed everyone he could think of; wished eternal rest to all the dead who came to mind and finally made an Act of Contrition, examining his conscience scrupulously.

  Then, as instructed by Novvy, he set himself to thinking of the Four Last Things: Death; Judgement; Heaven; Hell.

  He saw himself dying with weeping Brothers all around him. His eyes were wide open and he pointed towards the ceiling. The Brothers followed his gaze. Then he fell back in a swoon. Everyone in the room was moved to tears. An odour of roses pervaded the room and the snow-white dove of Joachim’s soul flew up, straight as a stick, from his remains and through the ceiling. The Brothers were impressed, and placed a cross between his whitening hands. The cross was seen to glow.

  Then he saw himself laid out in a glass sarcophagus. His body was refusing to decay like other bodies. A blissful smile which moved all who saw it played about his dead lips. Brother Ninian stood by the sarcophagus saying, “Surely he is in heaven with the Lord! I was the PF of a saint!” All the other Brothers nodded their heads.

  Next Joachim switched his attention to Judgement. He saw himself on his knees in front of Jesus, His Holy Mother and St Joachim. St Joachim was saying, “Sure, ‘tis true he was a little bit on the impure side when he was a youth, but forget that! Rather think of all those years of work in the missions! Did he not convert the Shona tribe to Christianity? Have we not been besieged by the prayers of those poor ex-heathens! Daughter, as your father, I command you to appeal to your Son to have mercy on Brother Joachim and let him into heaven immediately.” Mary whispered somethin
g into Jesus’ ear. Jesus nodded and it was all fixed. Joachim got up from his knees, the great doors of heaven swung open and Joachim walked in to be greeted by Granny, Mum, Dad, and all the other people he had loved and prayed for and saved from perdition by his prayers and good works. Thus did Joachim dispose of Death and Judgement.

  Heaven came next. Heaven was wonderful. Mars Bars hung from the trees. You could pick as many as you liked and pay nothing and no one would say, “Haven’t you had enough?” Rivers flowed down gentle green hills, but instead of water there flowed dandelion and burdock. Great white clouds scudded across the blue sky but never obscured the sun. And on these clouds sat Happy Souls singing, ‘How Beautiful are the Feet’ and ‘Strange Meeting’ and ‘Dies Irae’. They could control the clouds in the same way that the Mekon could control his vehicle. They laughed and called their congratulations to Joachim, who at once found a cloud for himself and joined them in playing in the ether. It was wonderful. He could swoop down on one of the dandelion-and-burdock streams and siphon up the ambrosia without moving. He drifted over idyllic pastures and saw Fluffy A, Fluffy B, Fluffy C and Hilda, the three rabbits and a cat he had buried in early childhood, gambolling over the fields and smiling up at him. So they had been saved after all! The prayers he had said while Dad shovelled the sod on top of them had not been in vain! It was heaven! In the evening, Jesus and Mary took a walk around heaven to see how everyone was getting along. They had a word for everyone and never left anyone out. They asked questions about relatives still on Earth and seemed interested in the answers. They nodded and waved like the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh – but were ten times more sincere. St Joachim would often come for a ride on Joachim’s cloud. It was a tight fit when he did because, of course, Guardian Angel Tom was there too. It was wonderful. Wonderful.