by Paul Gait
‘So you can understand why Ben was a bit ‘tetchy’ that morning?’ Andy added.
‘What happened?’
‘Well the school was very good about it when I explained the circumstances; they said they’d give him another chance.’
‘Did you report it to Social Services?’
‘Ben made me promise that I wouldn’t involve them, if he told me the full story. He’s fiercely loyal to his mother. So I went round to see her and we had a long chat.’
‘Was she sober?’ Geoffery asked.
‘When she’s on planet earth she can be quite sensible,’ Andy said calmly.
‘Where was the boyfriend in all this?’
‘Oh he’d got what he wanted and was long gone. I arranged for Ben to spend some time with his Grandad while she sorted herself out.’
‘I can’t understand how people get themselves into these situations,’ Geoffery said ‘Clearly doesn’t understand her parental responsibilities.’
‘Sadly, it’s the age old story. Got pregnant when she was still at school, missed out on teen life while she’s bringing the kid up and now she is trying to make up for lost time. Unfortunately the booze has robbed her of her self-respect and dignity,’ Helen said.
‘Poor kid deserves better doesn’t he? What chance does he have in life with a start like this?’ Geoffery said concerned.
‘He’s going to have to be tough if he’s to avoid spending half his life in prison,’ Geoffery thought, as they sped off along the main road towards the Church.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Here we are then,’ announced Andy as the car stopped.
They had drawn up outside an ancient Church on top of a hill. A small castellated tower sat at the left hand side of the building with an unsightly drainage pipe running down the face of it spoiling the architect’s design.
The long nave, almost the same height as the tower was supported mid-way by a wide stone buttress. Two stone arched windows equidistant from the buttress made it look like a giant stone face complete with blank staring eyes.
In front of the building was an ancient graveyard with tall crumbling gravestones that stuck randomly out of the short grass at rakish angles.
The Church was completely encircled by a line of small black metal railings that segregated it from the rest of the hill.
Although only a relatively short excursion, Geoffery was feeling exhausted from his first trip out of the hospice, he felt relieved that the journey was at last over.
As soon as the nurse opened the car door it had become the centre of attraction from a small group of people dressed in their ‘Sunday best’ waiting by the railings.
‘Wow Andy, where did you nick this one from?’ asked one of the group, admiring the Mercedes, his gold earring shining in the autumn morning sunshine.
‘Where’s your motor?’
‘It’s a long story’. Andy said.
‘Won the lottery Andy?’ another asked.
‘Nice isn’t it. It belongs to a friend of mine. I’ll introduce you to him in a minute.’
‘Yes please. If he trusts you with this fantastic Merc, he must be worth touching up for a few quid,’ the gold earring wearer said, stroking the paintwork.
Ignoring the comment, Andy lifted the driver’s seat forward and took the baby from his wife.
‘Sorry,’ said Geoffery suddenly aware of what was happening. ‘Let me get out and that would make it easier for all of you.’
‘No, that’s OK Geoffery. I can slide out from the other side,’ said Helen moving from behind Geoffery. ‘It’s not a problem.’
‘Just as well, the christening would probably be over by the time I got myself up from here,’ he said cheerfully, starting to feel excited about the event.
‘I’ll just get the family inside the church and I’ll come back for you Geoffery. Is that OK?’ Andy said, helping Helen out of the car with his free hand.
‘Yes no problem, I’ll just soak up this lovely scenery.’
Geoffery opened the car door and slowly struggled out, as the excited group of family and friends made their way through the black metal gate and along the steep winding path that led through the ancient graveyard up to the church.
Geoffery leant his exhausted body on the car door and gazed around.
‘I guess they built the Church here because it’s closer to God,’ he mused.
As he savored the cool autumnal air, a flash of something caught the corner of his eye. He strained to peer through the morning mist that swirled like ectoplasm around the gravestones.
Then he heard the sound of digging. He felt a chill in the pit of his stomach as he recalled his nightmares.
Behind a green gauze the gravedigger was at work, or was it his imagination playing tricks. ‘Did gravediggers work on a Sunday?’ he wondered.
The sun glinted off a spade as it deposited more dirt on to a growing pile.
‘Of course they do,’ he chided himself. ‘Don’t let your imagination run away with you. Anyway, he would be calling on the services of the gravedigger himself, soon,’ he thought dispassionately, almost as though he was thinking about somebody else, not his own demise. He had decided on an interment rather than a cremation and the permanence of a carved headstone rather than a plaque to mark his final resting place.
‘Still, he’d had a good life. He couldn’t complain. It was better than Andy or his wife was ever likely to experience, unless they won the lottery,’ he mused.
‘I suppose it’s a nice place up here for friends and family to come and visit to remember their loved ones,’ he decided.
Although now his ties with the Monaco set had been cut, he wondered who would be visiting his mound of soil anyway.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The little group of family and friends meandered through the graveyard along the narrow pathway to the ancient building.
At the head of the group the Nurse proudly carried baby Molly. He beamed at her little face framed by an old fashioned lacy bonnet, a tiny bundle cocooned in a long off-white satin christening robe that enveloped her small frame and cascaded over his arms. Helen’s family heirloom worn by generations was stored with great reverence after each ceremony to be used in perpetuity, continuing the family tradition.
‘It’s a pity Geoffery didn’t want to be one of Molly’s Godparents,’ Helen observed, adjusting the oversized bonnet that had slewed over Molly’s eyes.
‘Well I did offer.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He was already an absent Godfather and in debt to his own Godsons.’
‘What does he mean by that?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘I don’t know, but I assume he’s already a Godparent. He also said he doubted he’d even be around to see Molly’s first birthday. So he declined.’
‘That’s a pity isn’t it? But is that right about his life expectancy though?’
‘Probably, the prognosis isn’t too good.’
‘Poor Geoffery!’
‘Well, while he’s still here, let’s help him enjoy whatever life he’s got left.’
‘I don’t understand why he isn’t living it up in some posh clinic considering he’s a millionaire. I mean what’s he doing at your place?’
‘He’d obviously heard about me and my amazing care skills,’ Andy quipped.
‘Nothing like blowing your own trumpet is there?’ Helen responded quickly.
‘He’s a local boy, said he wanted to come home and see his birthplace again before he died.’
As they arrived at the ancient oak door a grey haired man in clerical gowns was waiting for them.
‘Hello Vicar,’ Andy said.
‘Good morning Mr Spider. Ah, this must be little Molly. She looks lovely, don’t you darling?’ the Vicar said bending to address the baby. ‘Do you know the order of service Mr Spider?’
‘Yes, I assume it’s the same as when you christened Amy.’
‘Oh. I thought I recognised the Christening shawl. Where is
she?’
‘She’s with her uncle and little cousin Rose,’ Helen said, beaming with pride.
‘Love, if you’d like to take Molly, I’ll go and get Geoffery,’ Andy said, handing the baby to Helen.
He turned back and walked quickly down the path towards the car park and the waiting Geoffery.
‘You sure you’ll be able to push him up the slope by yourself?’ Helen called as he made his way down the steep path.
‘No problem. I’m wheelchair pusher first class. It’s part of my job. Remember?’
Halfway down the path Andy could see that Geoffery had already got himself out of the car and was struggling to get through the kissing gate.
‘Geoffery,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘that’s probably not a good idea.’
Andy broke into a jog.
As he got to within six feet of the struggling invalid, Geoffery’s legs went from under him.
Geoffery managed to hold on to the gate long enough for Andy to catch him.
‘Gotchya’ said a breathless Andy. ‘Why didn’t you wait? I said I’d be back.’
‘I didn’t want to be a burden on your special day. You’ve got family and friends to look after. You don’t want to be fussing around with me.’
‘Now listen,’ Andy slipped into a Franglais accent and joked, ‘I s-h-a-l-l t-e-l-l you dis only wunce. You are part of my family for the day and I want you to relax and enjoy it. Now hang on here please while I get the wheelchair.’
‘OK, I’m sorry…’
‘No problem.’
Andy walked the few paces back to the car and deftly removed the wheelchair out of the Mercedes.
Making sure the car was locked, he made his way back to Geoffery and within a few minutes they were weaving their way through the gravestones that flanked the path.
‘There we go. See. No time at all.’
‘Lovely old place isn’t it? Geoffery said feeling a bit light headed after his exertions. ‘I was reading the brief history of it while I was waiting. It’s Norman 12th century and the font is supposed to be 14th Century.’
‘Just imagine the generations of children who started their spiritual lives here and my little girl is going to be one of them,’ Andy beamed.
‘Quite something isn’t it, being part of history,’ replied Geoffery trying to concentrate.
‘It’s supposed to have been built within an old Iron Age camp, in which case we’re talking seriously ancient.’
‘I’ve never been one for historical things, but this is fantastic isn’t it?’
‘They’ve got an illuminated Cross on the top of the tower that can be seen from miles around. Villagers say it’s like a homing beacon when they return to the village after being away. Local legend has it that the fence was put around the churchyard to stop the dead from escaping out of the graveyard,’ Andy relayed.
Coupled with the beautiful surrounding in which the ancient church stood and Andy’s infectious excitement, Geoffery couldn’t help but feel excited too.
‘Look at that view across to the Cotswolds. Isn’t that fantastic? You can see the edge of the escarpment snaking around the Severn plain for miles. The woods! The quarries! The hills! Magic!’ Andy continued excitedly.
Geoffery was having difficulty hearing, Andy’s voice sounding as if it was coming through a tunnel.
‘The Cotswolds was one of my reasons for coming home,’ Geoffery said thickly.
‘You OK?’ The nurse’s instinct kicking in at the change in his patient’s response.
‘Yes, fine’ said Geoffery unconvincingly, ‘don’t worry about me, you’ve got a little girl to introduce to Jesus, isn’t that what Amy was saying?’
‘Yes, bless her.’
Andy was scanning the graveyard as they made their way. ‘You know there are some strange headstones here; somebody must have had some money. Look at that grotesque Angel.’
As Geoffery turned his head to look at the statue he felt drunk, his head swam, and his eyes didn’t want to focus. The statue danced in front of him.
‘I must fight this,’ he thought, ‘I don’t want to mess up their day.’ Geoffery felt strange, his emotions all over the place. He felt happy and sad at the same time.
‘Phew, this is a bit of a push up here,’ Andy said breathing heavily. ‘No wonder they built another Church at the bottom of the hill. Imagine walking up here with a coffin in the olden days. I wonder how many pall bearers had heart attacks en route?’ Andy remarked lightly.
‘There was something about that on the board down there,’ Geoffery said slowly, feeling queasy. ‘Apparently they had stopping places where they could put the coffin down and have a drink.’
Geoffery felt the nausea rising. ‘Oh no, I’m not going to be sick,’ he told himself.
‘Here we are. That made me sweat a bit,’ Andy said, panting as they entered through the low doorway. ‘I’ll help you out of your chair and then I need to go and join the family.’
‘That’s fine, please don’t bother about me,’ Geoffery replied earnestly hoping Andy hadn’t spotted that he too was sweating profusely.
The ceremony got underway as Andy joined the group around the ancient 14th century font.
Geoffery stood up unsteadily. He held on to the pew in front to steady himself. The ceremony seemed to be taking an eternity. He couldn’t take it in, couldn’t concentrate. His knuckles were white with the effort to stay upright as he fought to remain conscious, his eyelids fluttering.
Distantly he heard the vicar say.
‘As Molly’s parents and godparents, you have the prime responsibility for guiding and helping her in her early years. This is a demanding task for which you will need the help and grace of God. Therefore let us now pray for grace in guiding this child in the way of faith’.
Geoffery had heard that charge three times before when he too had stood at a font holding babies. His Godsons.
‘What had he done to help and guide them? Nothing! In reality, he had almost forgotten his commitment by the time he’d left the church grounds. It was, after all, just a ceremony and didn’t mean anything anyway. Did it?’ He fought the noise in his head to try to remember their names.
‘The first one must have been…’he forced himself to think, ‘must have been… Rupert, his nephew. Yes, that’s right. Funny little chap.’ He had lost touch with his crazy sister and her in laws almost immediately after the Christening. That was until he had moved to Monaco and then the begging letters began. He didn’t go to her funeral, even though she was the last member of his family. A business meeting or something had got in the way. Still he’d sent a wreath.
Then there was Tim. Tim his former lover’s child. Lovely Kay. Kay had married that numbskull, George. How he regretted losing her. There was something different about Tim; he couldn’t remember what Kay had said.
And finally there was James. That was it. James was the son of his best friends Silvano and Cecilia. He was orphaned when their plane crashed over the Pyrenees. Geoffery had tried to help, but the family fortune was what had really helped James. At the age of eight he was a millionaire, so he probably wouldn’t need any help anyway.
Geoffery felt himself wavering; he tightened his grip.
Where were his Godsons now? What had they made of their lives without his ‘help and guidance?’ They were probably alright. Perhaps he should find out. Yes, perhaps that’s what he’d do, look them up.
He needed air. He was so hot. ‘Must concentrate,’ he chided himself, ‘think of something. Surely it must be nearly over soon,’ he reasoned.
Faraway the voice of the Vicar broke into his fevered mind. Lights danced in his failing vision as the Vicar lit a candle from the altar for Molly.
‘God has delivered us from the dominion of darkness and has given us a place with the saints in light.
You have received the light of Christ; walk in this light all the days of your life’.
The poignancy of the last few words was not missed by Geoffery as he
lost his battle to remain conscious and slumped noisily to the floor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Vicar spotted the sudden movement and rushed the final words of the ceremony.
Andy turned round at the sudden noise to see that Geoffery was no longer where he’d left him. He broke away from the group and sprinted to the unconscious figure lying on the flagstones almost underneath one of the pews.
‘Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father,’ the vicar concluded
Andy’s finger expertly targeted the pulse point on Geoffery’s neck. Relieved to feel a pulse, he could feel Geoffery’s heart was racing.
The congregation stood and gazed at Andy and Geoffery, concerned. The christening forgotten momentarily.
‘Perhaps, you’d like to make your way out and let us sort this little matter,’ directed the Vicar.
‘OK everybody, he’s just fainted, nothing to worry about,’ Andy announced, as the group filed past gazing at the prostrate figure.
Helen arrived by Andy’s side with Amy.
‘Is he deaded Daddy?’ asked the little girl innocently.
‘No darling, he’s just fainted and bumped his head, that’s all. He’ll be OK in a minute.’
‘Why have you put his feet on those pillows instead of his head? Has his feet gone to sleep?’ she asked puzzled.
‘No darling,’ he reassured her, suppressing a smile. ‘It’s to help him get better.’
‘Come on darling, we’ll see if they’re taking photos of Molly outside shall we?’ Helen said, steering the little girl out of the Church.
As they went, Helen turned to Andy and mouthed ‘Is he really alright?’
Andy nodded affirmatively.
‘Do you want some water for him?’ asked the Vicar nervously as he joined Andy. ‘I’ve only got consecrated water though.’
‘Right now he could do with all the help he can get, and if it’s going to give him a bit of spiritual assistance lets go for it.’
Geoffery’s nightmare returned. He was chasing footsteps through the graveyard. This time grotesque statues materialised out of the mist. The angel that he had seen when they came through the ancient graveyard sprang to life. Its eyes red! Liquid pools of magma! Mesmeric! They were boring into his soul.