The Face

by Ivan B

  “Whoa whoa,” Bau ordered, “That’s far too much, you just need it to emphasis the outline of your eyebrows, not paint them.”

  She handed Janis a cleaning wipe and she dutifully wiped off the excess and tried again. “Mum will kill me, “she said.”

  “Your mum will be proud of you,” answered Amy.

  Janis watched in the mirror as Amy and Bau applied each other’s make up with deft strokes and total trust. “Do you ever do your own,” she asked.

  “Had three years of it while Bau was in prison,” Amy said carelessly before her eyes opened and her hand went to her mouth.

  Bau rolled her eyes, “Amy never could keep a secret, and before you ask we’ll tell you about it some other time, but not now. Now is for pampering you.”

  She offered Janis the bottle of French perfume that Brian had bought her. “Now try a dab of this, just a little because you don’t want to smell like a mobile hairdressing salon.”

  Janis took the perfume, but was intrigued. Bau had been in prison? What on earth for? And three years! You didn’t get sent to prison for three years for something like shoplifting, just what had she done?”

  Joan’s eyes narrowed as she finished her breakfast cereal, “Are you wearing make-up young lady?”

  “Just a little,” Bau answered, we thought we’d give her a make-over; cheer her up.”

  Joan wondered about protesting and decided she didn’t have the energy. “Perhaps you ought to give me one too.”

  Amy, while rummaging in a cupboard, looked round. “There’s plenty of bubble-bath and essential oils in the bathroom, why not go and have a nice relaxing bath, do you good.”

  “I might just do that,” she half-drawled.

  She stirred her coffee, “Was that you two singing in the bathroom?”

  “Certainly wasn’t me,” Brian mumbled from behind his newspaper.

  “You girls are good, ought to be on the stage.”

  Amy rolled her eyes, “No fear, bathrooms one thing, having people stare at you is quite another.”

  Bau laughed, “Singing’s not obligatory, but if you want Amy can give you a relaxing massage.”

  Amy gave a sly smile, “Bau’s not bad either, fingers are a bit bony though.”

  Joan decided that massage from either of them was totally off the agenda as far as she was concerned. “I’ll just opt for the bath, thanks.”

  She stretched, “What are you guys doing today?”

  Brian put his paper down carefully folding it so that Bau wouldn’t see the article on the judge and the ever shortening review list. “Actually I’ve got to see the Bishop, could be an interesting meeting, it might end up with me not being in the ministry at all.”

  The kitchen suddenly filled with silence.

  Brian waited in the little hall of the Bishop’s house that also doubled as a waiting room. The secretary gave him a smile through the doorway of her office and made a drinking motion. He shook his head and closed his eyes; he was waiting for the guillotine on his ministry to be pronounced. He’d arrived an hour before to be ushered almost straight in to see the bishop. To his surprise not only was Bishop Dermot in the office, so was Bishop Norman, the bishop interested in the other half of the project and his normal bishop. In some ways it was fortuitous as it meant he didn’t have to tell his story twice. On the other hand it meant he had to face both at once, which was horribly daunting as the two bishops were like chalk and cheese. Bishop Dermot was effusive, tended to interrupt and had the disposition of a cheeky loveable puppy. Bishop Norman, on the other hand, had a slow taciturn approach and the disposition of a wise old half asleep badger. Both were capable of chewing him up and spitting him out if need be. He’d already waited half and hour for their verdict and for the umpteenth time he replayed the meeting in his head. He’d walked in to be greeted by a broad smile from Bishop Dermot. “Well Brian it all seems to be coming together.” He said not waiting for a reply. “I’ve just received a letter from the Burston PCC saying that they’d welcome your ministry and another from the property department saying that they’re happy for you to live in that concrete block of a house and for the EU to pay the rent. Actually I think they’d let you live here if someone else was paying the rent.”

  The joke fell flat. Bishop Dermot peered at him over a pair of thin wire-framed reading glasses. “You’re not smiling.”

  Brian took a deep breath. “Actually Bishop I’ve come to talk about my position and,” he added turning to Bishop Norman, “probably offer to resign my licence.”

  Bishop Norman managed a tiny movement of his right eyebrow, Bishop Dermot through up his arms. “Oh not woman problems Brian, please don’t tell me we’re going to miss out on a wonderful piece of ministry because you’ve done something stupid.”

  Bishop Norman grunted. “You’d better take a seat Brian.”

  Bishop Dermot grimaced and rang through to his secretary to ply the next appointment with coffee and cake. He looked at Brian. “Shoot.” Was all he said with his mouth; ‘this better be good’ was what he said with his eyes.

  Brian’s knees suddenly started to tremble; this was crunch time. “Last time we met we talked about Bau Didly and Amy Jones.”

  Bishop Dermot interrupted, “I remember and I briefed Bishop Norman as it’s a joint project.”

  Brian regrouped his thoughts. “Matters have progressed somewhat; I intend to marry Amy Jones in a fortnight’s time. The banns have already been read once.”

  Bishop Dermot’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t interrupt again. Brian continued. “However it’s only fair to tell you that our intention is that Bau has a home with us and as far as I am concerned she will have the same status as Amy except she will not be the legal spouse.”

  Bishop Dermot just stared at him while Bishop Norman gave a polite cough. “And what does your intended bride think of all this?”

  “It’s a three-way mutual decision. When I saw Bishop Dermot last time we assumed that Bau would be my wife. However, we’ve decided that it’s best if Amy is my legal wife. Bau wants to go back on the road whereas Amy is a home-bird.”

  Bishop Dermot regained his equilibrium, “Good grief man,” he said in amazement. “If we go into this traveller’s project you’d be in the front line, can you imagine what the tabloids would do to you and your entourage?”

  Bishop Norman put his head on one side. “Does the Church Council at Burston know this?”

  “I believe that Verity Jones, Amy’s grandmother and churchwarden, has put two and two together. The rest don’t know. On the other hand Bau is not exactly the most welcome person in the village due to her reputation as a child-killer.”

  Bishop Dermot groaned, “Well that’s the end of that then. One perfectly good and valuable project blown clean out of the water by a priest who can’t keep his trousers on.”

  Bishop Norman rubbed his chin; “Can I just ask a few questions?”

  Brian nodded. Bishop Norman said carefully: “Do you intend to be faithful to both of them, by that I mean not seek a third wife or a mistress or, as they say, a bit on the side?”

  “Of course I do. They know that and I’ve promised that to them.”

  “And how do you intend to provide equality to this additional wife?”

  “Change my will in favour of both of them, have a three-way joint account and not discriminate.”

  Bishop Norman rubbed the grey stubble on his chin again, “So they are the only two women in your house?”

  Brian blinked, “Actually no, not at the moment. My sister and her daughter are staying with us at the moment.”

  Bishop Norman nodded, “Would you mind stepping outside for a moment, I rather think that Bishop Dermot and I need to confer.”

  With that he’d left for the waiting room, where he’d been ever since.

  Joan lay in a bath of fragrant bubbles and was almost totally relaxed. Janis was in the kitchen with Amy, who was baking some crumpets. Janis had never met anyone before who actually cooked crumpet
s; Joan had always bought them from a shop. Bau was practising some classical Spanish music on her acoustic guitar and Brian was off to see the Bishop. As the warmth seeped into Joan’s body she wondered about the uncertain future ahead. She knew from some of her friends that divorces could get messy, very messy and very acrimonious. She didn’t want that for Janis’ sake. Instead she’d rather go for some sort of semi-amicable split of assets or mediation. But what to do? Where to live? How would Janis really cope? How could she help her through it all? “Oh God,” she said aloud, “I’ve made such a mess of this. Please please don’t let Janis be harmed in all this. It’s my mistake not hers, please don’t let her future life be hindered or her ever feel that she was to blame.”

  She suddenly wondered why she was praying, she hadn’t been to church for years. However, she did recall her confirmation classes and some elderly vicar saying that baptism and confirmation were letting God plant the seed of his Holy Spirit inside and that you might forget God in future years, but he would never forget t as he was already in their lives. She somehow now found that statement very reassuring. She was not alone in all this, God was by her side. Suddenly someone, probably Amy, started to provide that peculiar Spanish clap that went along with flamenco music and Joan smiled. At the moment she wasn’t physically alone either, that too was oddly reassuring.

  Bishop Dermot watched Brian leave the room and close the door. “What a shame,” he said, “I thought we had every angle covered.”

  Bishop Norman said carefully, “All may not be lost.”

  Bishop Dermot sighed, “Not your liberal views Norman, now is not the time.”

  Norman ignored him. “When I was visited out twinned Diocese in North Africa a couple of months ago I was rather surprised to find several families in some of the churches that obviously have one man and more than one ‘wife.’ OK, I know that this is because they came to faith after they had established the relationships, but God didn’t seem to mind. I certainly didn’t see any thunderbolts, but I did see some of them taking an active and fruitful part in church life.”

  Bishop Dermot sighed, “That’s all very well, but it’s in another culture in another part of the Anglican Communion. You don’t expect to find polygamy in Surbiton.”

  “Polygyny,” corrected Bishop Norman. “Polygamy’s right outside scripture.”

  Bishop Dermot rolled his eyes. “Surely you’re not suggesting that we turn a blind eye.”

  “No, we can turn a very active eye. You know and I know that monogyny is part or our Western culture and our Western interpretation of the scriptures, but it’s hardly explicitly laid down.”

  Bishop Dermot raised his hands and waved them about. “Oh come on, we’re not talking about the general populous here, but a priest. Remember what Paul said about Presbyters having only one wife?”

  “My point exactly, it was unusual and therefore stood out.”

  Bishop Dermot went to reply, but, for once, Bishop Norman got in first. “Let’s stop focusing on Brian and look at the wider picture here,” he said sagely, “and see what we can salvage.”

  Bishop Dermot wondered if anything was salvageable, however in deference to Bishop Norman he nodded. Bishop Norman stroked his chin, “as I see it….”

  Joan arrived downstairs to find Janis proudly standing by a batch of a dozen or more crumpets. She waved another half-eaten one and grinned, allowing even more butter to run down her chin. Joan sniffed, “My they look good.”

  “Want to try one mum? They just need toasting to finish them off, you only cook them just enough to eat untoasted if you want to.”

  “No, I’ll wait for tea.”

  She looked around, “Where’s Amy?”

  “She suddenly started to cry and Bau took her out into the garden. I think she’s upset about Brian. She rambled a bit.”

  “Rambled?”

  “In-between telling me how to cook crumpets, she kept muttering about big hands. She is rather funny at times.”

  Joan glanced at the kitchen door. “Not funny Janis, scarred. She had a bad breakdown and it left its mark in her mind.”

  “Oh.”

  Janis frowned, “I like her though; shame about her bum.”

  “Janis!” Chided Joan trying not to smile.

  Joan then surveyed the kitchen. There were carefully grouped peeled vegetables and ten small lamb chops on the worktop, plus what looked like the start of an apple pie. Joan looked round for an apron; “How about we give her a hand and finish off dinner?”

  Janis turned up her nose; she’d had enough cooking for one day. On the other hand she wanted to be near her mother. “OK, good idea.”

  They turned as one and started to work.

  Brian came out of his reverie to find the secretary shaking his shoulder and smiling at him. “They’re ready for you now Brian.”

  As she watched him go in she didn’t ask the question the entire office staff were muttering. Just what was so important that both bishops had rearranged their entire morning schedule? Still time, and the appearance of something to type, would tell her.

  “Sit down,” said Bishop Norman sternly.

  Brian obliged, trying not to shake.

  Bishop Dermot made a face like a sucked lemon. “Let’s get the worst over first. There is no way you can become Vicar of Burston. I will just have to look elsewhere and become inventive. It’s only a small parish stuck out on the margins and you would have been the ideal solution, but that’s water under the bridge now.”

  Bishop Norman took up the reigns, saying softly, “And there’s no-way you can continue as Chaplain at the school and frankly I would be worried and concerned if you were a teacher there.”

  This was a double whammy and even though Brian had prepared himself for it, it still came as a hard shock to have it announced so bluntly. “I understand,” he rasped.

  Bishop Dermot drummed his fingers on the table. “On the other hand we see no reason why your foolishness should ruin a perfectly good project where you will be ministering to those with somewhat dubious views about sexual propriety.”

  “Hold on, “said Brian. “Just because they’re travellers doesn’t mean that they’re sexually promiscuous, in fact…”

  He tailed off as both Bishops held up a hand to stop him. “Can I continue?” Said Bishop Dermot sarcastically.

  Brian nodded wondering what was coming. Bishop Dermot removed his glasses and swung them too and fro. “There is also no chance that either of us would give you a licence to minister in our diocese. However, all is not lost.”

  He shot Brian a look that was meant to be encouraging, but which in reality frightened him even more. Were they about to ask him to give up his Holy Orders and cease to be a reverend he wondered? Bishop Norman took up the verbal baton. “We’ve been in touch with our colleague who is Bishop of our twinned Diocese in North Africa. His Diocese is a large place and in some parts there are rather interesting family relationships. Travellers, of course, know no bounds and this is a project that is partially funded by the EU. Even rudimentary geography would tell you that any person with nomadic inclinations could stray from North Africa into the EU.”

  Brian thought that this was pushing geographical boundaries just a little, but kept quite. He didn’t want to antagonise the Bishops again. Bishop Norman gave a learned sigh. “He has agreed to licence you as a missionary to work with travellers. Although, of course, we know that you’ll confine your activities to the camp at Knot’s wood.”

  Bishop Dermot drummed his fingers again and looked severe. “Of course although you can technically preside in any church, we would not want you to preside in any churches in our diocese. Am I making myself clear?”

  “No.” Said Brian weakly.

  Bishop Norman sighed. “You’ll get a ministerial licence from the Bishop of North Africa to work over here. We will give you special dispensation, call it a blind eye if you like, to preside at the Eucharist at the camp at Knot’s wood, but nowhere else. Absolutely nowhere else.
Understand now?”

  Brian tried to get his Brian in gear. “I can work with the travellers and minister amongst them under the auspices of the Diocese of North Africa, but I am not welcome in any of your churches.”

  “Bingo,” said Bishop Dermot.

  Brian licked his lips, “How about the camps at Sledging Tye and North Burgh?”

  The Bishops looked at each other. Bishop Norman spoke. “Very well, any established traveller’s camp.”

  Brian opened his mouth and Bishop Dermot broke in. “Don’t start to argue over what we mean by established. If there’s a caravan or a tepee there you can minister OK?”

  Brian nodded, after all he was being let off the hook, or was he? “What about the funding of my stipend,” he said hesitantly, “The EU funding only covers about half of it?”

  Bishop Norman gave a knowing smile. “Ever marked exam papers?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Well that’s your penance, and after the trouble your causing us it’s too lenient by half. I’ve pulled a few strings with the exam board that provides exams in English for students of RE in various European schools. They’re desperate for markers so I didn’t have to work too hard. It’s an all-year round activity so it should provide you with a steady income, in fact slightly more than you’d have got from a priest’s half-stipend.”

  Bishop Dermot put on his severe look again. “And we want no scandal. We’ve only come to this arrangement because you are the right person for the job. We don’t want you coming out, so to speak, or writing articles about the wonders of polygyny. That goes for your wives too, is that clearly understood?”

  “Yes.”

  Bishop Norman smiled. “Are you willing to work under those conditions?”