“Oh you poor girl!” said the verger as she put her work down and walked towards Sam.
She took Sam into a back room where they sat next to an open fire. The Verger warmed Sam with several cups of tea and filled her belly with several rounds of freshly made ham sandwiches, finished off with two mince pies. She listened intently with a concerned look as Sam relayed the events of the day, her only interruption being a periodic nod of acknowledgement.
Only once Sam had finished her tale, did the verger herself venture to speak. “Listen, we have a program here that I have helped organise where people who are between residences can come and stay for the Christmas period, we’re going to be making up some beds in the community centre. It’s not due to start until the week between Christmas and New Year but I’ll have a word with the Vicar, I’m sure we can put something together a bit earlier. Wait here.”
At the ghost’s direction, David followed the verger as she left Sam and made her way to the Vicarage and up to the study where she found the vicar. A plump middle- aged man with a pink sweaty face and greying hair combed over a patch of central baldness was sat bent over a desk furiously scribbling out something he had just written. He wore an old black shirt fastened all the way to the top with the uppermost button covered by a customary white clerical collar. The shirt was at least one size too small and so made the vicar appear around the face and neck as if he were being throttled.
“Vicar?” said the verger, knocking gently on the door which was already slightly ajar. “Can I come in?”
“What is it Joan?” said the Vicar without looking up. “Make it quick, I’m having a pig of a time with this sermon for tomorrow.”
“Well vicar, there’s a young lady downstairs who I think would benefit from our ‘Good Will’ program.”
“Good, jolly good” said the vicar, “ask her to come back in a couple of days then.”
“Well the thing is” continued the Verger. “I was wondering if we might make a small exception and let her stay starting from today if that’s ok.”
“No, no, ask her to come back in a couple of days, there is no-one around to supervise until then and that’s when the funding starts.”
“But she really has had a dreadful time Vicar and I’m sure she’ll be no trouble without supervision.”
The vicar spun round in his chair to face the Verger. “Joan, you know as well as I do that there are a million sorry tales in this city, some genuine, some not. For that reason, we have to be practical. Whatever charity we give has to be done in an official, regulated and controlled manner. We have deadlines and cut off times for very good reason. I am not having someone who has just walked in off the street staying here without supervision – God Knows what would happen! Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy.” With that, he spun back around and picked up his pen once again.
“But vicar, I really think if you would just come and meet her you might…”
“Joan, Please!” said the vicar impatiently raising his hand in a gesture of dismissal. Reluctantly, the verger took her leave and returned to Sam. Just as David was about to follow her, he felt the hand of the spirit upon his shoulder. The spirit motioned over to the desk where the vicar had finished his writing and was reading his Christmas Eve sermon aloud to himself. David looked over his shoulder and read long with the written words as the vicar spoke.
“A warmest welcome to all of you on this frosty Christmas Eve and can I say what a joy it is to see you all here, to celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is especially pleasing to welcome so many of you at a time when all we seem to hear is how less and less people are attending Church! Well, we have certainly proved the naysayers wrong!”
“Now, as we know tomorrow is a very special day for all of us, especially you little ones who I know will be excited about what Father Christmas is going to bring you! But aside from the presents and eating and drinking and being Merry, it is very important that we remind ourselves about the true meaning of Christmas. It is important that we remind ourselves why God, in his wisdom, sent his only son to guide us as his word made flesh.”
“So what was the message that Jesus brought us? To what end did god send his son to die upon the cross as the ultimate act of sacrifice? Well, the short answer dear friends, is VALUES. Jesus came as God’s final prophet, as his final message to his creation, to cement the values that he had revealed throughout mankind’s history in the Old Testament.”
“But how much do we honour this supreme gift that god bestowed upon us? How much do we embody the spirit of the message that was given unto us? Well, let us imagine that God wished to send Jesus to us again. And let’s say he chose – here, our humble corner of London for his ministry- for it is a place as much in need of spiritual redemption as any is it not? Well, first of all, God would need to find a pure and virginal woman to carry his immaculate conception but I fear that he would have great difficulty finding such a female over the age of fourteen!- so loose has become our sexual morality.”
“Secondly, the chance of god finding a man of sufficient integrity and staying power to act in loco-parentis to Jesus, for any prolonged period of time would be close to zero. And finally, if Jesus managed to eventually negotiate the gauntlet of adolescent gun and knife crime and get to an age where he was ready to undertake his ministry; I fear that any potential males of a similar age would be too engrossed in the debauchery of their homosexual civil partnerships to be interested in becoming his disciples.”
As he read the word homosexual, the vicar paused for a moment to tug at his collar which was beginning feel terribly constricting.
“To paraphrase our great Mayor, Boris Johnson: ‘if gay marriage is ok – then I see no reason, in principle, why a union should not be consecrated between three men, as well as two men, or indeed three men and a dog."
The spirit touched David’s shoulder and led him away from the vicar. “Hear no more David, but know this” said the spirit “There are some upon this earth of yours, who lay claim to know us, to know the heart of the spirit and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name. But those people are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves - not us.” David promised that he would; and with that they went on, back to the Church where Samantha and the Verger were stood talking.
“I’m so sorry” said the Verger, “there is nothing I can do – I would have you with me but I have the grand-children, oh! Never mind, here take this” She handed Sam a twenty pound note “That’s all I have with me I’m afraid. But here - there’s this too” She handed Sam a bin bag which was bulging from its contents. “It’s some of the stuff for next week, there’s a sleeping bag and some food and some other bits and pieces. I really am sorry Sam but please do come back next week – Ok?”
“Ok” said Sam. “Thank you for all this” She looked the Verger in the eyes and David was dismayed to see a flicker of the sorrow he had thought departed.
--
Sam walked out of the church and David and the spirit followed her as she went. The night had grown colder and the darkness had completed its descent upon the city so that it now crept into every nook and cranny that was without the protection of a street lamp. Sam walked and walked, away from the church, away from the humans and their houses and trees and lights and hundreds of spare, warm beds. Eventually, she arrived at a path that ran along the side of a canal. Here, the streetlights ended and as she stepped onto the towpath, snow began to fall. She walked for a further mile or so alongside the canal until she came to a small bridge. Under the bridge, the ground was dirty but dry. Apart from Sam, the cruel weather had forced all other people indoors so she sat down on a dry patch of ground completely alone.
Sam felt inside the bin bag that the kindly Verger had given her and pulled out a large sheet of plastic which she placed on the ground. She then pulled out the sleeping bag and had a brief moment of pleasant
surprise when she felt its warmth and thickness. At the bottom of the bag Sam found a flask of tea, a packet of biscuits and package of wrapped sandwiches. She stuffed the food into the bottom of the sleeping bag before climbing in and wrapping herself up in the plastic sheet. She reached out of the bag and grabbed the flask of tea that she had left out and cradled it to her chest for warmth. In spite of her clothes and the tea and the bag and the plastic, Sam shivered violently. But eventually in spite of the cold and the fear, Sam fell asleep.
“Dear Lord” Said David crouching down next to her. “Can it be true that a person, a pregnant woman no less! Is forced to live like this? In this day and age? In my country?”
“If your senses are correct, then it is so.” The spirit stepped out from under the arch and raised his torch into the air. The flame grew large and bright and in an instant it was as if it had set fire to the night sky for everything became light and David found himself still under the bridge but now in the clear bright light of Christmas Eve morning.
David looked at Sam laid on the ground. The plastic sheet was covered in a thick layer of frost and to his horror, David was unable to discern any definite breathing movements.
“Oh dear God no!” he exclaimed, “She’s Dead!”
At that moment, two teenage boys riding small BMX bicycles rode down the towpath carving furrows in the fresh snow. Both were amply dressed against the cold with socks pulled up over tracksuit bottoms and the hoods from their jumpers pulled over their ears. The boy at the front rode with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. As they approached the bridge, the boy at the front skidded to a halt a few metres from where Sam lay. He dismounted his bike and walked over to the motionless body, surveying it with some curiosity.
As he approached, Sam stirred slightly and let out a small groan. The boy jumped back, unsure as to who or what he would find were he to investigate any more closely. With her movement Sam caused a small corner of the bright blue sleeping bag to protrude out from underneath the plastic. On seeing this, a malevolent smile spread across the boy’s face. By now his friend had joined him by his side. “Watch this!” the boy said to his companion.
The boy took the cigarette from out of his mouth and held it onto the fabric of the exposed sleeping bag. At first, all that appeared was a small black ring around the head of the cigarette but very quickly, the cheap nylon fabric took the embers from the ash and turned them into a flame which in no time spread to the plastic sheet and burned with great vigour.
The two boys jumped back and squealed with delight before quickly mounting their bicycles and pedalling away. For a brief, pleasant, moment, the still sleeping Sam had the sensation of unexpected warmth around her feet. This quickly turned into painful heat and she awoke suddenly and scrambled out of her cocoon. In the midst of her scrambling, she managed to kick the bag and its contents into the canal where her flaming bed floated for a moment before being swallowed by the murky water.
--
Without a word of warning, the spirit grasped David about his middle and jumped off the bank into the murky water of the canal. As David opened his mouth to scream it was filled with freezing and foul tasting water. For a second, he had the sensation of being unable to breathe and was seized by panic but in an instant, the feeling was gone and David found himself standing in the foyer of a large hospital – in fact the very same hospital that he and his wife Samantha had visited that very day. David took deep gasping breaths and shook his head in the way a wet cat or dog might do to shake off wetness, but when he actually felt his head and body he found himself to be completely dry. The spirit was ahead of him, already striding forward at a pace. For a moment, David hesitated without following, but suddenly his feet began to move of their own accord, without his command and he found himself following the spirit into one of the hospitals many elevators.
The elevator went up and up and didn’t stop until it was at the tenth floor – the very top of the hospital. The elevator doors opened at one end of a long corridor with two metal doors at its far end. The spirit led David down the corridor and through the doors into a large windowless boardroom. Inside the room was a long rectangular table around which was sat around ten people whose stern expressions were matched very well by the formality of their dress. David recognised two of the people in the room. The first was the Chief Executive of the hospital who David had chastised for no good reason during his visit. The second was Sister Bevan who he had previously taken great pleasure in imagining stretched over a rack in the bowels of the Tower of London. Remembering his earlier child-like behaviour, he began to blush with shame.
“Ok so I’d like to open the meeting with some good news” said the Chief Executive. “I am very pleased indeed to announce that our Oncology Department’s application to the Cancer Drugs Fund has been successful. So we’ll be receiving an injection of funds courtesy of Mr. David Cameron. I think that deserves a round of applause.”
David smiled as he listened to the patter of hands but his expression began to lack lustre as he observed the muted enthusiasm with which the people actually clapped. One man did not clap at all but kept his arms folded and his gaze directed at the ceiling as if purposefully ignoring the commotion. The man, a Professor of Medicine wore a tweed jacket and red bow tie; his greying hair was unkempt and ruffled and pair of small, black glasses were perched precariously on the end of his long nose. As the applause died down he was heard to mutter something unintelligible under his breath.
“Do you have something to say Professor?” said the Chief Executive.
Without changing his position or altering his gaze the Professor spoke again. “Cynical ploy” was all that he said at first.
“What’s a cynical ploy?” sighed the Chief Executive.
The Professor glanced at the other people around the table before speaking again. “I’m sure I am going to be very unpopular for saying this, but this Drugs Fund is a cynical ploy.”
“How so?” said the Chief sighing again.
“Well there are many things that are needed to treat cancer” said the Professor “not just fancy new drugs, so first of all this money could have been distributed much better. And there are many, many other conditions that cause so much suffering and lost years of life where some of this money could have gone. For one year of quality life that we’ll get from this fund we could have gained hundreds for so many other people if the money had been used differently.” The Professor paused for a moment and looked around the room again as if in search of acknowledgement, but no-one met his gaze.
“So are you saying that the patients who will benefit from this fund are not deserving of the drugs they’ll get? Is that what you’re implying?” said the Chief Executive, “because if so I think you’d better choose your words very carefully…”
“No of course I’m not saying that. But we do have a finite amount of resources, and even less now with all of these cuts and the money for this fund has been taken from other places. If it had been distributed differently, many, many more lives could have been saved and improved. But Mr. Cameron has chosen this highly emotive area as a focal point for investment to deflect criticism from the rest of his cataclysmic health reforms. Just you watch, I’ll bet good money that this will be a central theme in their party propaganda soon. I just think using such a dreadful, emotive situation as a political football is terribly cynical.” Once again, the Professor looked around the room but still no-one would meet his gaze.
David looked sheepishly up at the spirit as if in expectation of a rebuke, but none came. The spirit’s gaze remained fixed upon the Chief Executive.
The Chief shuffled the papers in front of him before speaking “Well Professor, I’m quite sure that the patients who will benefit from the Drugs Fund money would be quite happy to discuss this with you further, so I suggest that you take the issue up with them if you wish. Let’s move on to the next item on the agenda shall we?” He glanced around the room and when no objections came, continued. “Well, th
e consultation period has ended and I’m very pleased to announce that the merger of our two maternity units is to proceed as planned. The centralisation at this site will bring our delivery rate up to just over eleven thousand births per year. We will be quite the centre of excellence” he said smiling. “Are there any questions?”
Sister Bevan looked around the room waiting for one of the suited people to voice a question but none came. She took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Er, is there going to be a proportionate increase in staffing levels to reflect the more than doubling in our delivery rate?” she asked. Her voice was clear and her words articulate even though inside she felt terribly nervous.
A Christmas Cameron Page 11