Father Stephen wandered over, pint in hand. He explained that once everyone had finished their lunch, they would walk the mile or so up the road to All Saints where the reporter was due to meet them.
‘It’s a rather special pilgrim church, thirteenth century, so it seems a good setting for our reflection if we’re going to be on TV,’ he said.
‘You always say that!’ said Sam. ‘That where we’re going is special.’
‘Well, I do my best to take you to memorable places,’ said Father Stephen. ‘The Pilgrims’ Way is littered with fine churches. In this case, it’s extra special because according to tradition, this church was the last overnight stop for pilgrims on their way to Canterbury. Remind me to show you the porch where they used to gather so that they could gang up before the long walk through King’s Wood. That was dangerous because it’s acres deep and was full of robbers and bandits. Safety in numbers. So we’d all better be on the lookout!’
Beth saw him wink at Sam and Milo, whose eyes lit up at the prospect of danger. ‘The only other thing that’s different about today is that we won’t have our silent time until later in the day. I’m not convinced that it would make very good television. Tamsin – do you want to tell everyone what to expect?’
‘Sure! Well, it’s just local TV. Early evening regional news. There’ll be a single reporter with a camera. Nicky, she’s a friend of mine. We used to work together. She’ll film us at our devotions, and then I guess she’ll want to talk to one or two of us afterwards about what we’re doing and why. She’ll also walk on with us for a bit after that, get some long shots of the terrain. Look, there’s no pressure, anyone. No need to speak to camera unless you want to. But what I do want, please, is for everyone to wear their purple T-shirts. It’ll look much better. And it’s important for driving donations.’
‘I’ll do it! I want to be on TV!’ said Milo, immediately.
‘Me too!’ said Sam, a little less certainly.
Well, I’m bloody not, thought Beth. Oh no, would Sam be OK? Might he dissolve into tears, talking about Mum? He’d certainly look cute. Not that she’d dream of telling him. But it could still go horribly wrong.
‘Let’s just see how we go,’ said Tamsin.
Beth went in search of her father, who was eating his sandwiches on the village green. ‘You OK with this, Dad?’ she asked.
‘The TV thing?’
‘Yeah. I just, like, wondered . . .’
‘Thoughtful of you,’ said Theo. ‘I admit it goes a bit against my better judgement. But, well, Tamsin persuaded me.’
‘As she does.’
‘As she does. What about you?’
‘I’m not doing it. No way.’
‘Because . . . ?’
‘So . . . totally embarrassing, Dad? Someone I know might actually watch it, and then what? And I don’t want to be like this poor-little-match-girl,let’s-all-feel-sorry-for-her loser, thank you very much.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Theo. ‘Sandwich?’
Beth hesitated. ‘Um . . . any fruit going?’
Theo reached into his bag, retrieved a banana and gave it to her. ‘Actually, Beth, I wanted a word. I’ve been thinking about those GCSEs.’
Beth groaned. ‘Urg. Must you?’
‘No, hear me out, sweetheart. I’ve got an idea.’
Beth wavered for a moment, and then sank down on the grass next to him. ‘OK,’ she said cautiously.
‘Well, look. I know this year’s been a disaster.’ He laughed. ‘OK, so that’s the understatement of the century. I meant, it’s entirely understandable if your mind hasn’t been on your exams. I find it difficult to concentrate on anything at the moment.’
‘You do?’
‘Too right. It’s hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other, some days.’
Beth finished her banana. She was actually quite hungry. She reached out her hand for a sandwich, and then changed her mind. ‘So . . . ?’
‘So I was wondering. What are your plans?’
‘Plans?’
‘When you get your results? Still thinking about science A-levels and then Physiotherapy?’
Beth sighed. ‘I don’t know, Dad. I’ve got literally no idea. That’s been the plan, like, for ever.’
‘Because of Sam?’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Well, Mum and I always rather thought your interest might have something to do with Sam. Going to the clinic with him. Seeing him learning to walk again. Adapting to circumstances. You wanting to help people.’
Beth pondered. First Grandpa, now Dad. Why did everything always come back to Sam? ‘I’d never thought of that. I am, like, interested in it, you know.’ But was she? Of course she was, at some level. But the idea had also become a bit of a, well, habit, if she was honest.
‘But that’s not the point,’ continued Theo. ‘If that’s what you want to do, brilliant. Useful profession. Follow your heart, if that’s where your passion is. I was just thinking, though, that this is a bit of a crossroads for you. Choosing A-levels and so on.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s probably not the easiest time in your life to be making big decisions.’ Theo wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. ‘Actually, I never think it’s quite fair that we have to make all these decisions as teenagers. There’s enough else going on as it is.’
‘So what am I supposed to do?’ said Beth.
‘I did wonder,’ said Theo hesitantly. ‘Well, you might hate the idea. But however your results turn out, might it be a good idea to have some time out? A bit of breathing space? Some life experience, while you make up your mind? I could easily find you a job at Greene Fingers. Sharon goes on maternity leave in September, so it would work well for me. You could go back to school or college when you’re ready.’
Beth was gobsmacked. She literally didn’t know what to say. ‘No need to answer now,’ said Theo, gathering up the lunch things. ‘Take some time to think about it. We can talk again when you’re ready.’
The church, as Father Stephen had promised, was quite special. Even Beth could see that. For a start it was grand – far too grand for the middle of nowheresville – and looked almost like a castle, with its chunky towers. Inside, opposite the main door there was the promised porch with its fireplace and a stack of logs. And it was all light and open; chairs, not pews. Ruth was already sitting in the front row. Tamsin was in conversation with a slight, blonde woman who was setting up her camera and tripod in the hexagonal pulpit. She waved Beth over.
‘Hey, Beth, this is Nicky. Nicky, meet Beth, my favourite goddaughter.’
‘Um, your, like, only goddaughter?’ said Beth.
‘But still my favourite!’ said Tamsin. ‘Look, would you take charge of the T-shirts for me, Beth-ster? And “no” is not an option. Even from Father Steve.’
Beth happily took the bundle of T-shirts, glad to have something to do and an excuse not to talk to the reporter. For all she knew, Nicky would be as persuasive as Tamsin. Maybe you had to be, to do that kind of work. Mind you, she looked OK. She hadn’t done that rubbish, head-on-one-side fake sympathy thing that some of the teachers at school seemed to think was called for. She distributed the T-shirts and then took a seat next to her grandfather. She wondered if she should talk to him later about the conversation with Theo. Ask his advice.
Just as Father Stephen stood to begin the service, she heard the church door open. Looking round, she saw it was Adam, the odd man who seemed to have hovered on the fringes of the pilgrimage since the beginning of the week. He had a habit of appearing unexpectedly once or twice a day. Today his hat was decorated with bright red poppies. Where had she seen him before? She hesitated for a moment, but Tamsin had been quite clear. Everyone was to wear a purple T-shirt. She slipped out of her seat and tiptoed to the back of the church.
‘Before we start, can I welcome Nicky?’ said Father Stephen. ‘But I’m sure she won’t mind if I also say please do your best to forget she’s there fo
r now! This is one of my favourite pilgrim churches. It’s really good to be here, with the feeling that Canterbury is almost in reach. This time tomorrow, we’ll be there, God willing. We’ll have a period of silence later today, as usual, and our theme then will be “letting go”. Letting go of the past. Letting go, perhaps, of some of the heavy load of sadness we’re carrying. Maybe letting go of Anna, just a little bit.
‘But that’s for later. Now, let’s have our short act of reflection. You’ve all got the words. Let’s begin with a moment of quiet to still our hearts. Let us pray.’
Beth closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the words wash over her. She listened to William’s deep voice beside her, Ruth’s quieter tones just beyond him. She could hear Sam and Milo behind her. Her dad on the other side of the church. Tamsin, Uncle Tom, Catherine, Chloe and Mary Anne. She felt an unexpected surge of affection for them all, even Mary Anne. And Matt, Matt, Matt was coming. Already on the train, on his way to see her. She opened her eyes and joined in with the words.
Afterwards, they gathered outside in the sunshine. Nicky set up her camera, and Tamsin looked round for interviewees.
‘Think we’d better give the boys a shot,’ she said to Beth. ‘Nicky can always edit them out, if it goes belly-up. But we’ll start with Father Steve. He should know what he’s doing. And your grandma. She did loads of TV when she was campaigning for Hope House.’
Beth planted herself on a bench under a tree, so that she could watch from a safe distance. Father Stephen went first. Tamsin was right; he was a good choice. Even knowing nothing about it, Beth could see that he was a dream interviewee, speaking fluently about the tradition of pilgrimage and how that still made sense in the twenty-first century. God, he almost made it sound like a normal way of spending half-term. Ruth followed, and spoke calmly about Anna and how Hope House cared for whole families.
To her surprise, Theo put himself forward next. Beth watched with interest, laced with anxiety. He stumbled awkwardly over his words, and broke off mid-sentence, shaking his head.
‘Hey, Theo, no worries,’ said Tamsin. ‘That’s a great phrase, about the two charities that helped make Anna’s last days more comfortable. I’m sure Nicky won’t mind doing another take.’
‘Of course not,’ said Nicky. ‘In your own time, Theo. I can see it’s not easy.’
And then Dad kind of got his act together and had another go, and it all came out much better. Mary Anne was next, and funnily enough, for all her brisk and sensible teacher act, she came over all emotional, talking about what a lovely person Mum was and how they all missed her. Then Milo and Sam wriggled their way in front of the camera, but in the end they couldn’t really think of anything much to say, and Smith started barking, but Nicky took them seriously, and they calmed down a bit, and actually their bit was very short and kind of OK.
‘Are we done?’ asked Tamsin. ‘Got enough, d’you think, Nicky?’
At that moment, Adam shuffled forward and mumbled something to Tamsin.
‘Sorry?’ she said, uncertainly. ‘Hey, Father Steve, can you spare a moment?’
There was a brief flurry. Father Stephen came over to see what help Tamsin needed. Beth realized that Adam wanted to say something to camera. She could see that Theo was frowning, and looked as if he was about to intervene. From his frantic body language, Adam himself was becoming increasingly agitated as people crowded around him.
‘Is that entirely appropriate, Tamsin?’ asked Mary Anne sharply. ‘I mean, really . . . He may be wearing one of our T-shirts but what on earth has this man got to do with any of us?’
And all of a sudden Beth realized why Adam was so familiar. Almost before she knew what she was doing she stepped forward from her hiding place under the tree and launched herself into the conversation. ‘It is appropriate, actually, because Mum, like, knew him,’ she said fiercely to Mary Anne. ‘In fact if you bother to ask Adam, you’ll find out that he once did Mum a massive favour. When she really needed it.’
‘Friends, please,’ said Father Stephen. ‘Could you give us some space? Why don’t you all go and wait on those benches by the wall for a few minutes. Bethany, Adam. Let’s sit down for a moment.’
With outstretched arms he shepherded the two of them away from the group towards a crudely made seat underneath a yew tree. Beth, scarlet with embarrassment, sat down. Adam hovered a few feet away, his ragged carrier bags at his feet.
‘So, Adam. I didn’t know you knew Anna. How was that?’
‘The music lady,’ he mumbled. ‘Walking for Anna.’
‘Yes, I know that. But how did you two know each other?’
‘The Cathedral.’
Father Stephen turned to Beth with barely concealed exasperation. ‘Can you help?’
Oh, God! It was all a bit hazy. ‘Um. It’s, like, a long time ago. But when . . . when Josh and Sam were babies . . . Well, Mum was doing these, like, lunchtime recitals. Wednesdays. We all used to go. I mean, not Dad, obviously, he was at work. But because it was the holidays, I was off school so I used to look after the boys. And then we had ice cream afterwards as a treat. It was meant to be easy because they were supposed to be asleep and the concerts were really short. Half an hour, I think. Although that felt like for ever if one of them woke up and I had to push the pram round the Cathedral. I was only, like, six.’ She laughed shakily.
‘And you used to come, didn’t you?’ she said to Adam, who nodded furiously. ‘You were there every week, in the front row.’ She remembered being slightly afraid of him, daunted by his eccentric appearance, his yellow-brown teeth and the all-pervading smell of unwashed clothes. He had a beard in those days, but no flower-bedecked hat.
‘Music. I liked the music,’ he muttered. ‘And the music lady always smiled. Said hello.’
‘I remember. She said you were her Number One fan.’ Adam nodded again, and let out a curious sound that Beth realized was a laugh.
‘Number One fan! That’s me!’
‘And then . . .’ Beth felt the tears well up. Could she bear to remember? ‘That day. The day the boys fell ill. I could tell. I knew something was wrong with Sam. He didn’t look right. But I couldn’t tell Mum because she was on stage.’
She remembered the interminable wait. It had been a cool day, for summer, and drizzling with rain, which was one reason why she’d noticed that Sam was unusually hot. She sat swinging her legs, which didn’t quite reach the floor, one hand on the cool metal handle of the pram. The audience was made up of the usual handful of visitors and shoppers enjoying a free recital. Some music brightening up a damp day. Little puddles were forming on the floor under rain-sodden umbrellas. How long was half an hour? How many more minutes? Perhaps if she counted to fifty? To a hundred? She willed the programme to end, so that she could attract Mum’s attention.
When Anna finally finished playing, and stood up to take a bow, Beth waited for as long as she could bear, but still found herself on the dais before the applause had quite died down. As she tugged at her mother’s sleeve, she heard a collective ‘Ah!’ from the audience. She hoped Mum wouldn’t be cross. ‘Sam looks funny,’ she whispered urgently, and then at last Anna came and looked in the pram and all of a sudden there was a mad scramble to pack up her cello and get out of the building.
‘What happened, Beth?’ Theo had joined them at the yew tree.
‘The car! We didn’t have the car. We usually parked right by the entrance.’
‘It was in for a service,’ said Theo. ‘Mum was going to take you to the park, collect it at the end of the day.’
‘I just remember . . . a big panic because we didn’t have the car. And Mum had left her mobile in the glove pocket. We had the double buggy and her cello and there were all those steps by the Cathedral, and we looked for a taxi, but there weren’t any. And you . . .’ She turned to Adam. ‘You were the one who . . . who got someone to call an ambulance.’
Adam nodded, or she thought he did. It was hard to tell, when his head was bobbing up and down
anyway. ‘The music lady always said hello,’ he mumbled.
‘So that’s why you came to find us?’ said Father Stephen.
‘It was on the radio. Walking for Anna.’
Father Stephen looked at Theo. ‘Thank you, Adam,’ said Theo. ‘Thank you for helping Anna that day. And for joining us this week. If you want to talk on camera, you’d be very welcome.’
But Adam shook his head. The moment seemed to have passed. He muttered something inaudible to Father Stephen, picked up his shabby carrier bags and turned to leave. After walking a few steps, he turned back, towards Beth. ‘I like my Anna T-shirt,’ he said shyly, not quite meeting her eye. He stroked it reverently. ‘Number One fan!’
Nicky followed them for another mile or so after the church, so that she could get her long shots. They walked away from the little clutch of houses, crossed a country lane, and then made their way up the hill and onto the Downs. It was all very well, Father Stephen telling them to forget she was there, but Beth felt acutely self-conscious knowing that the camera was on them. Finally, after a word with Tamsin, Nicky waved goodbye and headed back down the slope towards her car.
‘Well, that went OK,’ said Tamsin. ‘Happy, Theo?’
‘Yes, thanks. You were right. She didn’t intrude.’
‘See, Dad? Tamsin knows best,’ said Beth, and Theo laughed.
‘I’m just glad it was Nicky,’ said Tamsin. ‘She’s great. I knew she’d be sensitive.’
‘When’s it going to be on?’ asked Theo.
‘Tomorrow night, with a bit of luck. Which means we’ll all be home and can watch it.’
Theo groaned. ‘Not sure I want to see myself on TV! I made a bit of a hash of it.’
‘Harder than it looks, huh?’ said Tamsin. ‘But don’t worry. You were great.’
‘Yeah, Dad, and they’ll probably edit out any bits that make you look a total plonker.’
‘Thanks, Beth! But I suppose that’s true. It’ll only be a tiny item, won’t it?’
‘We’ll see,’ said Tamsin. ‘We’ve got Father Steve doing the radio tomorrow morning too. With a bit of luck and a fair wind, I’d say there’s a head of steam building.’
Knowing Anna Page 21