The Joys of My Life

by Alys Clare

  He stood quite still and opened his arms. She walked into his embrace. They stood without speaking for a while.

  Then she said, ‘You’ve been digging again. I can tell from the way you’re standing that your back’s aching.’

  ‘Meggie will be home soon,’ he replied serenely. ‘She’ll rub on some of her magic oil and the pain will melt.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but you still do too much. I thought I’d come and help you, if you can do with another pair of hands.’

  He rested his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. She spoke lightly but he knew the profound meaning behind the levity.

  ‘You’ll stay?’ His voice broke on the words.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Abbess Caliste received the document this morning.’

  Josse lifted his head and, eyes closed, said a swift silent prayer of thanks. It was over; she had done it.

  He took her hand in his and led the way up towards the house. Helewise, who had stepped down as abbess when Queen Eleanor died and had for the last six years lived alone in the little house beside the chapel, walked beside him.

  She loved him; she had loved him for twenty years. She had told herself that ordinary human love was not hers to enjoy, for she had heard and answered a different calling, but the voice that had called and went on calling had subtly altered and it no longer emanated from the Church, for the Church itself was no longer the same.

  She had seen him love and lose another woman; she had seen him master his grief and pick himself up, making a refuge in this house in the woods not only for his own two children but for his adopted son and for all the others who came to him because they loved him and wished to be with him.

  And now, she thought, now I am doing the same. She leaned against him as they walked, squeezing his hand . . .

  And he squeezed back. Helewise, he thought, his heart overflowing. Here with me, at last.

  They reached the low bank and together they climbed over it. As they approached the house, its old stones glowing golden in the summer sunshine, a burst of laughter from the children rang in the warm air.

  It was like a blessing.