Lamplight in the Shadows

by Robert Jaggs-Fowler

  ‘Sometimes I think your morals are slightly deviant.’

  ‘I’d prefer to call them flexible; it makes me sound less in need of redemption.’

  It was strange to hear Anna’s voice, having had most of the journey conducted in silence whilst he mentally reminisced about their past. Reaching behind them, he unfastened the folded hood and pulled its concertinaed frame forward until it neatly re-roofed the car.

  ‘You’re being pessimistic, aren’t you?’

  ‘I would much rather take a few moments now than sit in puddles of water on the way home.’ Having fastened the hood’s leading edge to its anchoring clips above the windscreen, he got out, walked round to the passenger side and helped Anna from her seat.

  ‘Always the gentleman.’

  ‘Only when there is a beautiful lady present.’

  ‘That’s not true; I’ve seen you be a gentleman for ugly ones as well.’

  ‘Perhaps I just need to hedge my bets.’ He grinned, walked to the rear, retrieved a golf umbrella from the boot, and then locked the car doors.

  ‘You really do expect rain.’

  ‘Maybe. Those clouds might just pass by, but I’ll take this just in case. You know what they say – any fool can be uncomfortable.’

  ‘And you’re no fool. Well, most of the time you are not. You’re a bit rubbishy when it comes to sorting personal relationships.’

  ‘Hey, I thought this was just supposed to be a friendly afternoon out, not the start of an inquisition!’

  ‘It is… that is, just a friendly afternoon out.’ She smiled, slipped her left arm through his right one and started to walk towards the exit. ‘Come on, Dr Armstrong; take this lady for a spin around the sights and then somewhere nice for afternoon tea.’

  ‘With my pleasure, madam.’ He leaned sideways and planted a gentle kiss to her left cheek. ‘Free with every tour… but definitely only for the beautiful ladies.’ Smiling again, and feeling a lightness he had not known for months, he led Anna out into the Bailgate. ‘Where to first, madam? Castle or cathedral?’

  ‘Castle.’

  ‘Castle it is then.’

  Turning right and then right again, they started to pick their way across the cobbles of the square between the castle and the cathedral.

  * * *

  Originally built by William the Conqueror in the 11th century, Lincoln’s castle had at one time also served as a prison. It now served a strange potpourri of functions, the dominant two being a tourist attraction and the local law courts. Not surprisingly, it had once formed part of the defences for the city, its massive boundary walls giving splendid views across the surrounding countryside from its geographically elevated position. The same walls now served as a pleasant walkway for visitors. Halfway round that walk, Anna paused to absorb the sight of the modern city as it stretched away to the south.

  ‘I love looking at rooftops and old chimneys. They could relate so many stories of times gone by. Look at those tall ones over there… and that crooked one… it looks as though it might fall over at any moment.’ A sharp wind gusted across the battlement and she huddled closer to James for warmth. ‘It may be a sunny day, but it’s not exactly warm up here!’

  ‘I agree. If you’ve seen enough, let’s go inside and have a look at the old prison and its rather fascinating chapel.’

  They retraced their steps down from the ancient stone walkway and found the entrance to the prison at one side of the central block of buildings within the castle walls. Following the signs to the old chapel, they entered through a narrow, heavy oak door, treading carefully on the worn steps. After the brightness of outside it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior, with its rows of dark, high-sided box pews.

  ‘Oh, how horrible.’ Anna shuddered. ‘The seats are like mini-cells.’

  ‘Worse than that. Look.’ He led her down into the centre of the chapel, opened a head-high pew door and gestured for her to go inside. She paused, taking in the bare wooden bench-seat, the wooden book-ledge and kneeling stool, all lacking the creature comforts of padded cushioning. Immediately in front of her was another head-high door leading into a similar cubicle.

  ‘There’s only room for one person.’

  ‘Absolutely. The idea was that the prisoners were isolated from each other, not being able to see the persons to their side, front or rear. Go inside the next one, close the door and sit down. I’ll sit in this one.’

  She did as he bid, immediately exclaiming as the door closed behind her. ‘It’s positively ghastly! It makes me think of an upright coffin.’

  ‘Which is precisely what it was supposed to do; thereby reminding the prisoners of their fate if they didn’t repent of their sins. What can you see?’

  ‘Nothing. Just the wooden sides of this… this… box.’

  ‘Look up and beyond.’ James sat on the hard bench in his section and spoke to her through the partition door.

  ‘Oh, I can see the pulpit and a crucifix.’

  ‘Correct again. You see, the only person visible to all of the prisoners was the priest in his pulpit. They could each only see him, but from the pulpit he could see them all. For them, he became the figurative route for their salvation from damnation. Quite an effective way of capturing their attention, don’t you agree?’ There was no response from the next cell. ‘Anna?’

  ‘Still here.’ Her voice had taken on a different, quieter timbre.

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Oh, just various questions going round in my mind, but I am not sure that you will know the answers.’

  ‘Such as? Try me. I have read quite a bit about the place.’ There was another short silence.

  ‘So, is the pulpit still your escape from damnation?’

  He grimaced and subconsciously shifted on the bench. ‘That’s unfair. It is not a question about here! I thought we agreed not to discuss such things today. We were just going to have an afternoon out as good friends, remember?’

  ‘We did, but I need some answers and there never is a good time to ask you. I need to know where I am going with my life. I need to know whether I have a future role in your life or are we just to remain good friends?’

  He rubbed his face with his hands and gazed at the empty pulpit, not knowing how best to respond to this unexpected line of questioning. In the absence of a response, the voice in the next cell spoke again.

  ‘Do you still love her? Janice, I mean.’

  James inwardly groaned in response, searching for a way to answer her questions honestly, when he still had not sorted them completely in his own mind. He turned to face the door between their two cells, touching it with his right hand as though imagining her on the other side. ‘Anna, I…’ His voice faltered, and as it did so, the sound of the chapel door opening and a noisy party of schoolchildren entering saved him. The door between his and Anna’s opened and she moved towards him with an ushering gesture. ‘Come on, this place is depressing; let’s get out of here.’

  Squeezing through the throng of excited children, they shared a knowing look with a somewhat fraught teacher and made their escape from the noise of laughter and ghostly wails accompanying the banging of pew doors. Re-entering the brightness of the day, Anna again took James’ arm.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I should not have… it was unfair of me to…’ Her voice trailed off as he placed an index finger on her lips.

  ‘Shhh. Forget it. Where shall we go next?’

  She paused, her eyes meeting his for a moment. Then, lightly kissing his finger, she nodded towards the opposite side of the square. ‘Cathedral? It seems the obvious choice.’

  ‘Cathedral it is then.’

  Holding on to his arm with both her hands, they crossed the square in companionable silence, save for the sound of the umbrella’s metal tip on the stone flags.

  * * *

  The inside of Lincoln Cathedral offered a different coolness to that of the prison chapel. For a start, the many stained-glass windows a
llowed shafts of bright sunlight to illuminate the pale stone of the cathedral’s massive columns and roof space. Not surprisingly for an out-of-season weekday afternoon, the place was quiet save for a few Japanese tourists clutching rolled copies of the Magna Carta and taking photographs of each other against the backdrop of the ornately carved choir screen.

  James and Anna quietly wandered around the nave, taking in its vastness until Anna broke the silence.

  ‘It’s really quite awesome.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more. The Victorian writer and critic John Ruskin thought so too; look here…’ He led her to a small plaque on the wall and waited whilst she quietly read the inscription attributed to Ruskin.

  ‘I have always held and proposed against all comers to maintain that the Cathedral of Lincoln is out and out the most precious piece of architecture in the British Isles.’

  She nodded as an affirmative response and looked around her again. ‘Well, I for one am not about to disagree with him.’

  ‘I think it is the blend of the Norman and Gothic architecture that creates such an impact. There is also a fantastic Baroque and Wren library that is worth a visit sometime.’

  ‘I think I might just take your word on that for the moment.’ She smiled and squeezed his hand. ‘Dusty old books are probably more your scene than mine. I will stick to the immediate architecture. When was all of this built?’ She gestured around her.

  ‘It was started just before 1100, by Norman the Conqueror. In Medieval times, the diocese was huge, stretching from the Humber to the Thames. The Bishop’s seat was previously in Oxford, but Norman the Conqueror thought that it would be better in Lincoln and this is the result.’

  ‘Well, good for Norman the Conqueror, that is what I say.’

  They continued walking as they spoke, entering the chancel, where James bowed to the altar before turning round to absorb the intricate carvings of the dark, polished wood of the choir stalls. Looking upwards, he paused, frowned and then continued speaking.

  ‘The answer to one of your earlier questions is that I do not really know anymore… about the priesthood, that is.’ He cast a side-look in Anna’s direction and quickly resumed gazing at the ornate ceiling, conscious that she had turned to look at him. ‘I’ve asked Michael – that’s Michael Ewing, the vicar of St Peter’s in Barminster – I’ve asked him to let the Archdeacon know that I need some breathing space to sort out a few personal issues.’ His gaze dropped back to the stalls, flitting around from the choirmaster’s lectern, the carvings of the misericords, the organ loft above the chancel screen, and back again to the ceiling. As he did so, he let go of Anna’s hand and placed an arm around her shoulders instead. ‘And the answer to your second question is no, I do not love her. I don’t think I have for a very long time; if indeed I ever really did in the first place. Sometimes, feelings can be mistaken for love, especially when one is young and inexperienced. Time, maturity and experience teach us the true meaning of such emotions; but sometimes mistakes have already been made by then.’

  No name was mentioned, but he knew Anna would guess as to whom he was referring. He hesitated again, watching a verger walk towards the altar, where he proceeded to replace some candles. Swallowing hard, he finally turned to face her, tucking the umbrella under one arm and taking both her hands in his as he did so. She continued to say nothing; her face impassive save for her concentrated gaze; her unblinking eyes holding a thousand unspoken questions. For several minutes they just stood, oblivious to their surroundings and the inquisitive glance of a passing priest. The voice of a cathedral guide leading a small group of tourists finally broke their trance. Anna spoke first, her voice soft and barely audible.

  ‘I think I need that cup of tea you promised me.’

  He gave a wry smile and nodded in return. ‘I know just the place.’ Letting go of one hand, he led her out of the chancel, back down into the nave and out of the west door into the Georgian surrounds of the Cathedral Close. Above them, the clock chimed the three-quarter hour. Neither spoke again until they entered a small café on Steep Hill.

  Choosing a table in the window, he held a chair for Anna and then took a seat opposite her. Simultaneously, he caught the attention of a waitress. ‘Tea for two, please.’ The waitress nodded, scribbled on a pad and disappeared through a curtain of beads. ‘This is one of my favourite cafés in Lincoln.’

  Anna laughed and gesticulated to the view of a double-fronted antiquarian bookshop across the narrow cobbled road. ‘I can’t for one moment begin to guess why.’

  He gave a wry grin in return. ‘I admit it does have the advantage of a good outlook, but that is not actually the reason. The truth is they do a very decent line in home-baked cakes. Do you like chocolate?’

  ‘Does the Pope pray?’ Her words were followed by a grimace. ‘Sorry, bad joke.’

  Before he could respond, and as if to cue, the waitress re-appeared with a tray of cups, saucers, a milk jug, and teapot; all of which she carefully arranged on the white lace tablecloth of the table between them.

  ‘Will that be all, sir?’ she enquired.

  ‘I think we might just manage two slices of your chocolate cake, please.’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’ He watched as she disappeared once more through the beaded curtain before turning again to face Anna. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it.

  ‘James…’ She reached across the table and laid a hand on top of his. ‘What you said back there… in the cathedral, I mean… did you mean it?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Every word?’

  He nodded. ‘Every word. Why? Don’t you believe me?’

  ‘I guess I am just a little confused, that’s all.’

  ‘About which asp… thank you.’ He paused whilst the waitress served them with the cakes, before continuing. ‘Which bit confused you?’ He watched as Anna forked a small portion of cake into her mouth, chewed, swallowed and licked lips appreciatively.

  ‘Hmm, good choice, that is delicious.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘About the Church, mainly. Are you sure? You previously seemed so set on the idea. What has made you change your mind now?’

  He looked out of the window and watched as a group of children skateboarded down the hill, apparently oblivious to the sign prohibiting such activities. As they weaved between shoppers and tourists, his mind searched for an appropriate way to answer her question.

  ‘Have you ever been at a crossroads in your life? A junction where you are absolutely sure that you know the right direction to take, but then various aspects of life seem set on making you change course and take a completely different road?’

  ‘Possibly… well, yes, I guess so; several times when I come to think about it. In fact, I think I found myself at one of those last October.’

  ‘When you left Simon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were a bit of a dark horse about that. Why didn’t you tell me that you were leaving him?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to be involved in any way. That’s why I chose the moment you were in Malta.’

  ‘But surely I was involved? Surely I had the right to know?’

  ‘Right? Do not flatter yourself, James. I didn’t leave him for you. I may have left him because of you; but I did not leave him for you. There is a difference.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I quite follow.’

  ‘You and Janice – you essentially went to Malta to see if you could make your marriage work.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘The answer is “yes”, James, and you know it is.’

  ‘So what I think you are saying is that, even if I decided to stay with Janice, you would still have left Simon?’

  ‘Precisely. I knew that I had possibly lost you – indeed, for all I know, I still might have – after all, you are still living with her.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Let me finish. You had shown me that my own marriage was so appalling, I couldn’t possibly stay any longer.’


  ‘Regardless of our relationship?’

  ‘Regardless of anything. I just needed to be out, away, free. Anything and anywhere was better than staying another day under the same roof with Simon. So I left.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I am not sure that you do. If you could see your face…’

  ‘What about my face?’ He turned to the window to try to catch his reflection, only to have Anna’s hand gently steer it back in her direction. ‘And this afternoon…?’

  ‘Just an afternoon out as friends. Remember? After all it was your idea.’

  ‘I guess I just don’t want to lose you completely, Anna. Perhaps if we can remain friends…’

  ‘I really thought that last Christmas was going to be a turning point, you know. You seemed different after Malta. And then when Prince Charlie dropped his bombshell on the nation…’

  ‘You thought I would think it alright to do the same?’

  ‘Well, yes… and especially when at Christmas we seemed to get back together again. I thought… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought; it didn’t happen and doesn’t look as though it will; but at least we are having a nice afternoon as friends.’ She smiled and took a sip of tea. ‘You were telling me about being at a crossroads and then we somehow got side-tracked into speaking about me.’

  ‘Crossroads?’ Momentarily puzzled, he struggled to recollect his earlier thoughts. Anna’s own story had clarified so much in his own mind, but had also opened a whole Pandora’s Box of further questions. There was so much to consider. ‘Crossroads…’ he repeated again. He drank some more tea, blinked a few times and forced his mind to concentrate. ‘Ahm, yes, well, crossroads… I guess that I have recently found myself at one of those same crossroads and it is obvious that something… or someone… God perhaps… has plans that don’t, after all, match the ones I thought I was following.’ Yes, he thought, that is where the conversation was heading. He ate several forkfuls of cake before continuing. ‘Many would say that it is a matter of destiny. That our paths are mapped out for us and, regardless of how fascinating the detours are that we try to take, we will constantly be nudged back to the path intended for us.’