‘And did you get to meet your star?’
‘Kind of. There was a pretty big group of us waiting by the time he came out and he signed a few autographs. He was a bit grumpy actually. I went right off him after that, but it was still a buzz to see him. Anyway, that meant we were late and we missed the last bus that would have taken us to my uncle’s place and we had to walk. I can’t remember how far it was, but it felt like miles in the dark and it was so cold. We held onto each other because the pavements were so slippery. Harrie slipped over once and I did twice. Anyone seeing us must have thought we were drunk.’ Lisa giggled at the memory.
‘When we finally made it back, my uncle was furious. He’d been waiting up and was about to call the police. He was really scary when he was mad. He wouldn’t calm down, but then Harrie put a hand out and touched his shoulder. I remember the look of complete serenity on her face as she apologised to him. She told him that it was her fault we were late back. She said she’d wanted to wait by the stage door and how I’d kept telling her that we’d be late. Then she went on and on about the star of the show, who she really wasn’t that mad about – it had been me persuading her to see him in the play. And what could my uncle do? Harrie knew that he’d lay into me far worse than he would her, and so she made sure that she put herself in the line of fire.’
‘Wow!’ Alfie said.
‘I’ve never told anyone that before – not even Audrey. But that’s the sort of person Harrie is!’
‘She sounds like a good friend.’
Lisa’s tears really began then and Alfie continued to hold her until she calmed down a little.
‘I hate this,’ she said. ‘I hate feeling so helpless. It was the same when my mum got cancer. I didn’t know what to do and Audrey keeps telling me that I’ve got to be strong for Harrie and that she doesn’t want to see my tears. But I’m not strong and I don’t know if I can cope with this!’
Alfie kissed her forehead. ‘You know what?’ he said gently. ‘You’re stronger than you think.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are! Anyone with the capacity to sit so calmly and to help somebody else learn to meditate – I’d say that’s a kind of strength. You’re succeeding where dozens of others have failed before. I’ve been crippled with pain for years now, but you’ve really helped me work through that.’
‘I have?’
‘You really have.’
‘But that doesn’t make me strong.’
‘It does as far as I’m concerned,’ he told her. ‘You have a strength of personality. You don’t give up. Like waiting outside that theatre in the freezing cold. Even though that star was an idiot, you had the tenacity to wait and find that out for yourself.’
Lisa gave a tiny smile.
‘And from what I’ve seen of Harrie, and from what you’ve told me about her, she seems like a really nice and decent person.’
‘She’s the best there is.’
‘Then I’m sure she won’t want you hiding your feelings from her. Bottling up all these emotions isn’t good for you. If I was her, I’d want to know exactly how my friends were feeling. I’d want the truth – not some facade.’
‘You would?’
‘Definitely.’
‘But Audrey said—’
‘But you’re not Audrey. You’re Lisa,’ he said, as if that needed explaining to her. ‘Let Audrey get on with things her way and you do your things your own way.’
Lisa finally nodded and then stood up from the yoga mat. ‘You won’t tell Audrey about this, though, will you? I mean about me crying? She’ll just get annoyed with me all over again.’
‘Hey – what happens on the mat stays on the mat!’ Alfie told her.
Lisa laughed. ‘Why are you so sweet?’
He smiled and gave a shrug. ‘You just bring it out in me,’ he told her.
Chapter 17
Harrie had changed into a long-sleeved cardigan and a pair of light trousers for her trip to the church with Samson. She was surprisingly nervous, which was ridiculous really because it was just a little trip out together; it wasn’t anything to get worked up about and yet she couldn’t help it because she really couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out with a man. Not that this was a date or anything. It was nothing more than an outing to see something they both appreciated. After all, nothing could be more innocent than visiting a church, could it? So, there was nothing to get anxious about, she told herself.
He was waiting for her by his van, just closing his doors. The sun was still warm, bathing the priory in a wonderful honey-coloured light, and it seemed a shame to leave the beauty of the garden behind, but Harrie was very much looking forward to her adventure with Samson. Typically, Audrey, Lisa and Honor had been hanging around the kitchen as she’d made her way to the front door.
‘I’m just off out,’ Harrie had said.
‘Want some company?’ Audrey had asked.
‘Actually, I’m going somewhere with Samson.’
‘Oh, really?’ Audrey had said with a knowing smile.
‘If you must know, he’s going to show me some misericords.’
Lisa had frowned. ‘Is that a euphemism?’
Harrie had laughed. ‘I’ll see you later!’
Now, sitting next to Samson in the van, she wondered what her daughter and friends had made of her sudden departure. Well, Lisa had struck up a friendship with the gardener, hadn’t she? Why shouldn’t she make a friend of her own? She didn’t have time to make many new friends, did she?
With that thought in her mind, she turned to look at Samson. Could she really call him a friend? Maybe it was a bit early for that, but she liked the strange, half-silent sort of companionship she had with him and the interests they shared.
They drove away from the priory in silence until he turned onto a road for a mile or so and then took a smaller lane pitted with potholes. It was a sunken lane with high banks either side and grass growing in the middle of it. She wasn’t surprised when they saw a horse and rider ahead of them. Luckily, a bridleway opened to the left and the rider turned off, so Samson was able to continue at a pace slightly faster than a rising trot.
He pulled over a moment later by a low wall and Harrie saw the church for the first time. It was a surprisingly large building for the middle of nowhere, but Harrie had learned that villages often moved away from their churches over time. This one was certainly not within easy walking distance of its local community anymore and that was a shame because it was rather lovely with its grey-gold stone and its comically squat tower. It was modest and not as eye-catching as many of the churches Harrie had visited over the years, but she knew that a plain facade might well hide an exciting interior.
They got out of the van and walked through the small churchyard towards the porch and Samson opened the door, stopping to touch the stone arch around it.
‘What’s that?’ Harrie asked, peering closer at the mark on the stone. ‘Is it a stonemason’s mark?’
‘No, it’s graffiti.’
Harrie tutted. ‘Disgraceful!’
‘No, no. It’s very old. People used to carve into the stone in places like porches and around pillars. Not much is really known about it, but some marks were believed to ward off evil and others were just records of events or barters between neighbours. Always worth looking out for.’
‘I’ve never noticed them before,’ Harrie said, her fingers tracing the circular shape which Samson’s fingers had touched just a moment before.
He moved into the church and Harrie followed, closing the heavy door behind her, and they were instantly enveloped in silence and the comforting, slightly musty smell which churches have.
He led the way up the aisle to the choir stalls, passing the medieval font and the fine old pews. Harrie was close behind him, eager to see what he had to show her.
‘Well, here they are,’ he said, gesturing with a hand.
At first, Harrie couldn’t work out why Samson had especially wanted her to
see them. He’d talked about carvings, hadn’t he? But Harrie couldn’t quite see what all the fuss was about. She could see that the seats were lovely, the curving wood gloriously shiny in the sun which entered the church through one of the plain glass windows, but she wouldn’t have called them extraordinary.
He seemed to sense her disappointment and gestured for her to come closer. He then lifted one of the dark oak seats and there it was – hiding underneath a little ledge was a magnificent carving. Harrie gasped. She’d never seen anything like it. It was a bird sitting on a nest full of young.
‘A pelican,’ Samson explained.
‘Yes! Feeding her babies,’ Harrie said. ‘It’s charming.’
‘She’s actually feeding them with her own blood.’
‘What?’
‘It’s a popular religious image called a pelican in her piety depicting the mother wounding her chest to feed her offspring.’
Harrie looked again. ‘I think I’ve gone off it now. Are there any more?’
‘Why not find out?’
Harrie smiled and moved forward, her hands clenching the seat next to the one Samson had lifted.
‘Oh, it’s heavy!’ The old oak squeaked as she revealed a cross on a shield and two leonine-like heads. ‘Fabulous!’
She was excited now, going from seat to seat, lifting each of them up in turn to see what treasures were to be discovered. There were beautiful leaves, strange faces with elongated tongues and odd creatures playing musical instruments.
‘What on earth is this one?’ Harrie asked, turning her head upside down as if it might help her work it out.
‘Ah, yes,’ Samson said. ‘I looked that one up. It’s a wolf carrying a priest. His gown has slipped down around his head, see?’
‘How bizarre! I wonder what it means.’
‘Probably just a piece of medieval nonsense,’ Samson said.
‘Oh, I don’t know – I’d like to think it means something.’
The seats of the other benches each revealed something quirkily different.
‘See how the wood is so much more polished on this one?’ Samson nodded to a face which looked like some kind of Green Man.
‘It is wonderfully tactile,’ she said, reaching out to touch it herself.
‘Centuries of fingers have touched it.’
‘Yes.’ She felt a sudden lump in her throat. It was little things like this that sometimes caught Harrie unawares. There was so much beauty in the world – so many things to see and touch. She couldn’t bear that she wouldn’t be a part of that anymore. That one day, very soon, all her senses would be shut down and she wouldn’t be able to just wander around at leisure, discovering treasures such as misericords.
‘They’re lovely,’ she said, trying to regain her composure. ‘Thank you for showing me them.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’ll need to revisit all the churches near me now and see if I’ve missed any.’
‘They’re rather special, aren’t they?’
‘How old are they?’ Harrie asked.
‘Fifteenth century with a few later repairs like some of the hinges and a bit of the wood here and there.’
‘And there’s nobody here to appreciate them,’ Harrie observed. ‘There should be queues around the block to see these.’
Samson smiled at that. ‘You know, the choir could perch on the upright ledges when they were standing. Apparently, they were designed to crash down heavily and make a horrendous noise if the person perching on them dared to fall asleep.’
‘Is that true?’ Harrie laughed.
‘Who knows?’ Samson said with a shrug.
‘I’m so glad I’ve seen them. Thank you.’
‘I’m glad you like them,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I could show you some other churches before you leave Somerset.’
Harrie smiled, thrilled at this new development in their friendship. ‘I’d love that.’
They spent a little longer looking around the church, admiring the faded carved figures around the font and commiserating at the loss of the beautiful brass inlay on a tomb.
‘These places are so wonderful,’ Harrie said. ‘I wish they were better protected.’
‘So many are locking their doors now.’
‘Yes, I’ve often had to ring for a key to be let in to some of the more rural ones.’ She fished in her handbag for her purse and found a few coins to pop into the collection box fixed into the wall by the door. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
They left the church and returned to the van. The air was fresher now and there was a strange quality to the light. The summer day had been replaced by something slightly more menacing.
‘There’s going to be a storm tonight,’ Samson announced.
‘Really?’
‘Wind’s picked up.’
Harrie looked at a row of wind-tossed trees on the other side of the road. The sky in the direction of the priory was noticeably darker.
‘Make sure you’ve got some candles lit. The priory’s susceptible to power cuts.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Harrie said as they headed back down the bumpy country lane.
On arriving at the priory, Samson pulled up and switched off the engine. The sweet song of a robin filled the van and, for a moment, neither of them spoke. Harrie weighed the silence. She’d known so many silences like that in recent months when she’d been in the company of friends and had deliberated whether to tell them or not.
‘Samson,’ she said at last, feeling that the moment was right, ‘there’s something I think you should know.’
He didn’t say anything and, for a brief moment, Harrie wondered if she should continue because she knew that, once her secret was out, she couldn’t take it back. But she felt like she wasn’t being honest with him and, for some reason she couldn’t explain, she really wanted to be honest with this man.
‘I have cancer.’
The words hung heavily between them and he didn’t speak at first but simply stared at her.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked.
‘No, not really.’ She laughed at her own bluntness. ‘I want to talk about misericords and limestone and angels.’
His face looked solemn and she instantly regretted telling him.
‘Just forget it,’ she said.
‘Forget that you just told me you had cancer? How am I supposed to do that?’
‘I don’t know – just pretend that this conversation is a figment of your imagination.’
‘Harrie – I can’t do that.’
She gasped. It was the first time she’d heard him say her name.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why I did.’
‘Do you need me to do anything?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything from you. I just . . .’ She paused. ‘I just wanted to be honest.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything.’ Harrie sighed. Why had she told him? Honestly, she did nothing but make this man feel uncomfortable. ‘It’s just been hanging between us. I’ve felt awkward not telling you the truth, I suppose. And I thought it might explain some of the slightly odd behaviour around here lately. You know – women bursting into tears and the like.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded.
The silence had returned.
‘I’m sorry,’ Harrie said, ‘I feel like I’ve spoilt our day now.’
Samson frowned. ‘It’s nice that you want to be honest with me.’
‘Yeah?’
He nodded. ‘I appreciate that.’
Harrie twisted her fingers in her lap, knowing that she hadn’t told him everything. ‘There’s more.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s terminal. This time. It’s happened before and I made a good recovery, but this time . . .’
He reached across the car and picked up her hand in his and it took all Harrie’s strength not to break down in front of him. Instead,
they sat in silence for a little while longer, her hand warm and cosy in his as the first drops of rain pattered onto the windscreen.
Samson was right about the storm. The first roll of thunder came a little after nine o’clock and, by half past, the lights were out.
‘Oh, great!’ Audrey said, quickly switching on her phone’s flashlight so she could see what she was doing. ‘I was hoping to finish this novel tonight.’
‘Well, you still could,’ Harrie said. ‘You could read by candlelight.’
‘That might have sounded romantic twenty years ago, but I’m not sure my eyes would cope with it now.’
‘We should get Lisa’s candles from the chapel,’ Honor said.
‘Good idea.’ Audrey got up from the sofa.
‘Are you kidding?’ Lisa cried. ‘I’m not going there in the dark.’
‘I’ll go,’ Harrie said. ‘It’ll be an adventure.’
‘I’ll go with you, Mum.’ Honor retrieved her phone from her pocket and turned the light on.
‘Me too.’ Audrey held up her phone, which was giving off just enough light to see by. ‘I’m armed and unafraid.’
‘You can’t all leave me in here in the dark!’ Lisa said.
‘Come with us, then, silly,’ Honor said.
‘But I really don’t want to go in there at night.’
‘Afraid of ghosts?’ Audrey asked.
‘No – bats and moths.’
‘Better stay here then,’ Harrie said. ‘You can have my phone. We won’t be long.’
‘Wait until I’ve switched it on!’ Lisa cried in panic.
They waited.
‘Okay?’ Harrie asked once she saw Lisa’s face by the cold light from the phone.
‘I suppose,’ Lisa said sulkily. ‘Hurry back!’
One Last Summer Page 21