by Helen Line
We both considered the large pink creation with an ostentatious peacock feather perched on its rim before collapsing into each other in smothered giggles.
Our giggles stopped quickly though as we saw Janet and Richard come into the church.
‘She still looks really sad,’ I whispered.
‘I know – sometimes I think she always will. Tom tells me that she is finally having some counselling and he is keeping her occupied with all sorts of jobs and church committees to try to help her keep her mind occupied.’
‘Richard looks well though.’
He was wearing a grey suit, white shirt, grey tie and was walking very confidently into the church where he helped his mother find a seat before coming over to us. He must have grown a whole foot taller over the last year and he was filling out now too.
‘Princess,’ he smiled, as he leaned in to Rae for a hug.
‘Sir Justaboy,’ she answered and she wrapped her arms around him. ‘How’s school been this week?’
He grinned widely. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I got on the football team.’
Tom appeared in the church doorway and beckoned to Richard then.
‘Oh, sorry, got to go.’
‘You’ve become very fond of that boy haven’t you?’ I asked as we watched him walk away.
Rae nodded and I could see tears spring to the back of her eyes.
‘I’ve met many kids in my career Jen, but none have touched my heart like he has. But then, when you have lived with someone in Narnia it does get pretty special I suppose.’ She smiled.
‘I think you will always be his princess,’ I said.
And then he was back, walking down the aisle alongside Tom, who was also decked out in grey and white.
The two of them sat on chairs right at the front of the church and we saw Tom whisper something in the boy’s ear, in response to which his scrawny wrist shot into his inside pocket and he nodded furiously.
‘He’s checking he’s got the rings,’ Rae said. ‘He was so thrilled when Tom asked him to be Best Man.’
Suddenly Rae turned to me and gave me a big shoulder hug. ‘I’m so glad you could come this weekend.’ And for the first time in years I could hear and feel genuine emotion from her.
‘I never really thought I would be able to open my emotions up again you know,’ she said. ‘You once accused me of seeing the world in just black and white and you were right, of course. Black and white is safe, you know where you stand and there are no painful surprises. Well this last year has made me realise that grey still exists and, although it causes surprises, and even hurt sometimes, I can cope with it. In fact I like it. Black and White may feel comfortable but it is pretty empty and bland you know. I don’t think I ever would have realised that had it not been for the people around me here.’
‘So, do you believe in life after death and mediumship and stuff now?’
‘No, not really believe, but there is so much that I can’t explain away that I have to keep a more open mind these days.’
Then there was movement at the front of the church as Jim and Richard stood up and the organist began to play The Wedding March.
Pam stood in the doorway, her long dark hair curling onto the shoulders of her ivory suit. Although the church was full to bursting her eyes never wavered from his face as she walked towards Tom, who any minute now, was about to become her husband at last.
Tom
What a year. So much drama, so many changes; and me, a married man again.
Pam and I keep an eye on young Richard Banks, and I suspect we always will. I don’t think Janet will ever come to terms with what happened and it has certainly taken its toll on her own emotional well-being. So Richard regularly comes for tea at our house and walks Herman with us at weekends and such. That way he can talk if he needs to about anything, knowing that we are not going to be hurt or upset by it.
Sometimes he wants to know what we think his Dad might be experiencing now and we try to answer him as honestly as we can, but the truth is we can only guess.
He works hard to control his mediumistic ability, the poor kid is desperate for a “normal” life like any other kid his age. He says he will come back to it when he leaves school.
Now, I am no psychic and certainly not a medium; I am just the custodian of the church, but deep in my gut something tells me that the spirit world may have other plans.
Acknowledgements
My thanks to my early readers and in particular Lisa Tighe, whose only request was that her name should be used for a character in the book. Eternal gratitude to Chris Warner (you know what you did!) and to David J Robertson (Misty Books) for his practical support and words of encouragement.
Last, but never least, to Jen - for everything. Maybe I will be able to do the ironing now!