Fisher of Men

by Pam Rhodes

  “I’m supposed to be working at the churchyard this morning,” said Claire bleakly.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll understand.”

  “And if I give you the number, could you ring Jan and Paul to make sure Sam is OK? Tell Jan I’ll ring her as soon as I can.”

  “Of course. What about your Mum? Should she be told?”

  “I’ll send her a text, I think. I checked with the nurse and she’s says they don’t like us making phone calls from here, but we can send texts if we go in the corridor.” She stopped to look at him closely. “Are you all right? You look awful.”

  Neil ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, it’s been a pretty awful night, hasn’t it? Harry always seemed so fit and vital. It’s a shock to see him like this. It brings you face to face with how fragile life is.”

  Her face was full of understanding as she stepped towards him and drew him into a hug. Neil’s surprise at the gesture was quickly surpassed by an overwhelming sense of comfort and reassurance in the face of the concern for Harry which they shared. For several moments they drew strength from each other – then she stepped back, holding his gaze as she picked up her bag and started walking towards the Family Room.

  Desperate for some fresh air, he walked out of main reception and found a bench on which he could sit and make calls. The moment he switched on his phone, a text message flashed up. It was from Graham:

  Taking Debs to the Italian tonight! No mention of Police Van Man. Say a prayer for me. I might need it!

  In spite of himself, Neil smiled. It looked as if there could be at least one happy ending around after all. He didn’t dwell on the thought though, because he immediately rang Jan and Paul’s number. Jan picked up the phone straightaway, keen to hear news of Harry.

  “Tell Claire we’re thinking of her,” Jan said once she’d been brought up to date, “and say we’re right here if there’s anything at all we can do.”

  “She says she’ll ring you later. She just didn’t want to leave the room now in case there’s any news about Harry.”

  “Tell her Sam’s fine. And could you speak to him? I know he’d like to talk to you.”

  “Is Grandad ill?” Sam’s voice sounded thin and worried when he came to the phone.

  “He is, Sam. Not very well at all. Mummy had to call the ambulance, so he’s in hospital now.”

  “Is he going to die, then?”

  “Well, they’re giving him all the help they can, so we really hope they can make him better.”

  “My hamster died.”

  “Did it?”

  “We buried him in the garden and planted a bush on top.”

  “That was a nice thing to do.”

  “Will we have to bury Harry in the garden?”

  “Definitely not. The doctors here are looking after your Grandad really well.”

  “Doctors make you better. When I had spots all over me, Mummy took me to the doctor and he made me better.”

  “Oh Sam, you’re such a good and brave boy. Are you all right with Beckie and Brendan?”

  “They have chocolate cereal here! Mummy won’t let me have that at our house.”

  “Well, I don’t think she’ll mind today. She’ll be glad you’re enjoying yourself. She sends you lots of love.”

  “Are you looking after Mummy, then?”

  “I’m trying, Sam. I’ll do my very best, I promise. Mummy will be back just as soon as she can, OK?”

  “OK!” And Neil could hear Sam skip away from the phone, his mind switching instantly from hospitals and hamsters to the possibility of him having a bit more of that chocolate cereal.

  It was Frank who picked up the phone at the Vicarage. Neil realized that it was Tuesday, Margaret’s day off, so Frank was in the kitchen making a cup of tea to take up to his wife, who was still in bed. Neil quickly relayed to Frank details of the night’s events, and Frank promised that he and Margaret would cover any of Neil’s duties for the day, and pass the message about Harry on to everyone who would want to know.

  “Look, if you need Margaret there, just yell, because she’ll be there like a shot. In any case, please tell Claire that she and Harry are in our prayers. You too, Neil. We’ll get everyone we can from St Stephen’s to start praying for Harry right away.”

  That call finished, Neil glanced at his watch. It was just gone eight. He might just catch Wendy before she got tied up with whatever the day had in store for her at school.

  “Neil?” There was a note of curiosity in Wendy’s voice that she should be hearing from him at such an unexpected time in the morning.

  “I just wanted to let you know I’m at the hospital…”

  “Why? Are you OK? What’s happened?”

  “It’s not me. It’s Harry. He’s had a heart attack.”

  “So why are you there? Surely it’s Claire’s job to be with him?”

  “She’s here too.”

  “What do you mean? What time did this all happen?”

  “She rang me about a quarter to four, I think.”

  “And you’ve been there ever since with her?”

  “With Harry and Claire, yes.”

  “But you’re not family! What’s she thinking of?”

  “I’m a friend of the family, Wendy. They’re my neighbours. They’ve been really good to me. This is the least I can do for them at such a worrying time.”

  “But you’re leaving now, aren’t you? You’ve got a really big day ahead.”

  “Well, I’ve just been in touch with the Vicarage. Margaret will cover whatever I was supposed to do today. There’s not much on – and they know I’m due to leave for retreat later this evening.”

  “But you’ve got to be on time, and in the right frame of mind for that, Neil. This time of retreat is important for you as you prepare for your ordination ceremony. You’ve been working for years towards this moment when you become a priest. There is nothing more important than that.”

  “Yes – but I also know it’s important I’m here at the moment.”

  “So you mean to stay there?”

  “Until Harry comes up from surgery, definitely.”

  There was silence from the other end of the line.

  “It’s my job to be alongside people when they are in times of need, Wendy. That’s what a priest does.”

  “Neil, I understand that completely. I would just remind you, though, that there is a line between being alongside a family, and actually joining it! Are Claire’s parents coming down?”

  “I’m sure they will. She’s contacting them now.”

  “So where is she at the moment? Obviously not with you.”

  “No, I came outside to ring you. She wanted to stay up in the Family Room in case there’s any news.”

  “Well, you’d better get back to her, then. Tell her I wish Harry well.”

  “I will.”

  There was another awkward silence.

  “So, do you still want me to give you a lift to the retreat centre tonight?”

  “Of course,” replied Neil. “I’d like to share that last journey with you, bearing in mind the next time we are under the same roof it will be during the ordination service.”

  “Well, there’s no point you having your car at the Abbey on Saturday when it will be me who’s bringing you home.”

  “Thank you, Wendy. I appreciate that.”

  “Take care, Neil. Get some sleep today, if you can. You don’t want to be nodding off when you’re supposed to be in deep contemplation tonight.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Have a good day yourself. See you later.”

  Neil sat for a while after the call had cut off. Wendy had questioned his role in being there with Harry and Claire. From the very start, it had never occurred to him that he would be anywhere but here with them. Wendy’s reaction had shaken him. Was he intruding? Had he allowed the line between professionalism and friendship to become clouded? He shook off the thought immediately. His relationship with Harry and his family had always been m
ore about friendship than professionalism. If anything, he had learned a great deal more from all of them than he had ever given in return. He thought about the genuine, loving affection and welcome they always gave him – and the sudden wave of fondness for them that flooded across him took him by surprise. He slid his phone shut, and headed to the restaurant in the hope that he could find Claire something tempting for breakfast.

  When he returned to the Family Room with sandwiches and two cups of coffee, he found Claire stretched out awkwardly across a couple of chairs, her neck at an awkward angle as she slept. Neil saw how her long, auburn lashes were resting on the dark smudges of exhaustion which were etched on her face after the night’s events. He gazed at the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose, and the way her lips had parted slightly in sleep. He noticed her soft breathing, and the way her arms were tucked around her, almost as if she was hugging herself for comfort.

  He laid down the tray of coffee and sandwiches on a nearby table, then as gently as he could, he lifted her head so that he could slip on to the chair beside her. Without waking, she settled herself against him, looking small and vulnerable as she slumbered. Stroking her forehead as a parent would a child, he watched her as she slept – until his eyelids grew heavy, his head fell forward and sleep claimed him too.

  The early morning noises of the nearby A&E hospital ward eventually became so insistent and intrusive that Claire’s lids fluttered for a few seconds before she sat up abruptly with an expression of guilt on her face.

  “I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to do that. Is there any news? What’s happened?”

  Arching his back to stretch his aching muscles, Neil glanced at his wristwatch, then shook his head.

  “No, nothing so far. It’s nearly nine. How long do these operations take, do you think?”

  “I suppose,” she said, her expression grave, “if anything had gone wrong, they would come and told us.”

  “Yes, they would, so no news is good news.”

  “I hope so, Neil. I really hope so.”

  He looked across at the cold cups of coffee.

  “Breakfast?”

  She almost smiled. “I don’t think I could face that, thanks. I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, though – and a splash across my face would feel good too.”

  “The Ladies is down on the right, I think. Take your time. It’s good to stretch your legs. I’ll come and find you if I hear anything.”

  Claire got up and, for a second or two, looked back at Neil as if she wanted to say something. Whatever it was, she thought better of it because she turned instead and headed out the door.

  In the end, it was gone ten before a nurse from the theatre team came up to find them.

  “So far, so good,” she said. “He’s come through the operation OK, but the attack last night did quite a bit of damage, and he’s not a young man. The next few hours will be crucial.”

  “Where is he? Can we see him now?”

  “He’s still out for the count, I’m afraid, so they’re taking him to the Intensive Care Unit to keep him as stable as possible. I can take you down there though, if you like.”

  Weak with a combination of relief and worry, Claire reached for Neil’s hand as they followed the nurse through a confusion of corridors and staircases until at last they entered the Intensive Care Unit, where they were instantly struck by the atmosphere of hushed efficiency. There were four rooms off a central nursing area, and the sister in charge took them over so that they could peep in through the window, behind which they could see Harry looking unnaturally pale and expressionless, surrounded by a bank of electronic equipment, wires and tubes.

  “Don’t be alarmed by everything around him. That’s all helping to keep him going while he recovers from the shock of what he’s been through.”

  “Can we go in?”

  “Not just yet. It’s best if just the team are around him at the moment to keep the risk of infection down.”

  “How’s he doing?” asked Neil.

  The sister looked through the window to consider her answer.

  “He’s got this far, and the bypass operation will really help his heart to start pumping properly again. But he’s been through a lot. It’s a shock to the system. I would say the next five or six hours are critical. If he gets through that, he’s got a very good chance of recovery.”

  Claire, who had never let go of Neil’s hand, tightened her grip.

  The ward sister smiled kindly at them. “Look, it will be no good him waking up if the two of you are wrecked by the time he comes round. Why don’t you take a break? Go and get a bite to eat and a breath of fresh air. Nothing’s going to happen for a while, I can promise you that. And I can take your mobile number and give you a ring instantly if there’s any change.”

  Claire looked uncertainly at Neil. “I’m not sure…”

  Neil lightly touched the side of her face. “You do look all in. Come on, a breath of fresh air will do us both good. Harry’s in the best possible hands. They’ll take care of him – and we won’t be long.”

  “Your husband’s right,” added the sister. “Half an hour won’t hurt. It’s unlikely that there’ll be a change in your uncle’s condition in that time.”

  It looked as if Claire was about to object, but when Neil guided her gently back out of the ward, she went without a murmur.

  They found a bench in a small memorial garden at the back of the hospital. Amongst a rather wind-blown selection of shrubs and thinning clumps of bedding plants, Claire tipped her face up to feel the rays of morning sun.

  “This garden could do with your magic touch,” smiled Neil.

  Opening her eyes to look around, she smiled too without comment.

  They sat in companionable silence for a while, hearing the bustle of cars, voices and hospital life at a distance from this small garden oasis.

  “He’s holding on, isn’t he? He’s still with us,” Claire said at last. “Does that mean the worst is over? Could we lose him even now?”

  “I don’t know, Claire. I really don’t know, but the signs are good. He’s survived the operation, and that must mean something.”

  “Do you think it means he’s fighting to live? That perhaps Rose can wait for a while…?”

  “He’s got a lot to live for – you, Sam…”

  “… and his garden,” added Claire. “Everything he’s planted is about to be at its very best, and he’s put so much work into it. He won’t want to miss that!”

  “Or Sam going to school in September? He was telling me how much he’s looking forward to meeting him at the school gate in the afternoons…”

  “And church?” Claire added, her face thoughtful as she turned to face Neil. “What happened last night, Neil? You got me praying. Me! I can’t believe I did that.”

  “How did it feel?”

  She considered a while before answering. “It felt good, as if in a situation when I felt totally useless, I finally found something I could do that had a purpose.”

  “And he’s come through the operation…”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “It’s a great hospital, this,” said Neil. “I don’t think he could have been in better hands last night.”

  “But was it more than that? Was it just good medicine and treatment that brought him through?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Neil quietly. “Prayer has power, Claire. I know that without a shadow of doubt. Whether it’s the prayer of millions across the country all praying for a common need, or a desperate plea from one frightened and longing person, just as you were last night – prayer has power. God hears and he does respond.”

  “But people die. Even when someone like me cries out for God to save them, they still die.”

  “Everyone dies.” Neil’s words were low and considered. “There is a time for all of us, and eventually we have to die. So sometimes God can only answer our prayers by helping us to find the comfort and strength we need to get through. I believe that God knows us
so much better than we know ourselves. He’s knows what we are capable of coping with, however lacking we might feel when things are falling apart around us. Perhaps it’s only through tough times that we actually find out what we’re made of. An easy life doesn’t breed character. Challenge does. So maybe we only become what God always intended us to be because of what we go through, and how we deal with the difficulties in life.”

  “I hate that,” retorted Claire. “I hate the suggestion that you find God, then everything becomes instantly rosy.”

  “And you’re right – life’s not like that. I worry too when people seem to have an instant conversion just when they need it most, because whatever kick-starts you off on your road to faith, taking that road is destined to be a lifetime’s journey. It’s not that I don’t believe in miracles. They happen all the time, I am sure of that. And I know that some people have a road-to-Damascus experience which changes them, like Paul, from the most outspoken unbeliever to a man of inspirational faith. I envy people who speak of how that’s happened to them – the “born again” moment that changes them so dramatically – but that’s never been my experience. My faith has grown from a million doubts and questions that have stretched over all the years of my life, and I can’t help but think that it’s through doubts and questions that you find for yourself what you truly believe.”

  She was silent for a while, mulling over what he’d said, then she simply rested her head against his shoulder.

  “So I can take my time, then?”

  “Definitely.”

  “And because I reckon I’ve got more questions than you ever had, will you promise to stay around to help me out with the answers?”

  “I’ll do my very best.”

  She hesitated a moment, uncertain how to continue.

  “Do you know what?” she asked finally. “I’m not sure I can believe what I’m about to say.”

  “Try me.”

  “I felt something – when I prayed last night. I was desperate, begging almost – but I did feel something – like I wasn’t alone, like there was someone listening.”

  “There was.”

  “Your God?”