by Pam Rhodes
“You’re looking so much better, Margaret,” Neil began. “How are you feeling?”
“Lousy,” she replied. “Drained. Empty. Lost. Alone. The list of adjectives is long. Do you want them all?”
Uncertain what to say, Neil leaned forward to pour tea for them both before he continued.
“It all happened so suddenly – such a shock…”
She nodded, taking the cup he passed to her.
“We were going to retire in five years’ time, you know. We’d got it all planned. We both loved life in ministry – Frank as much as me – but we always thought it would come to an end with enough time for us simply to enjoy each other’s company for our remaining years. I feel robbed of that. It’s not just my darling husband I’ve lost, but all the dreams we had together. I have no life without Frank. I’m nothing, nothing at all.”
“You wouldn’t think that, Margaret, if you could see how much you’re missed at St Stephen’s. I feel like a headless chicken without you there, and everyone in the congregation tells me they feel exactly the same. We need you. We need your spiritual strength and your way with people, and the warmth you bring to every situation. When are you coming back? Please say it’s soon!”
She looked down at the cake, and cut two slices before putting one on a plate that she passed to Neil.
“Sarah made this. I can’t make cakes. Frank was a wonderful cake-maker.”
Neil smiled. “He certainly was!”
“I’d like to learn to make cakes like Frank,” said Margaret, as if her thoughts were far away.
“That would be good. Beryl would value any contribution you feel like making to her cake stalls.”
“And I’d like a little garden of my own – and Archie. I miss Archie. Is he OK?”
“Cyn’s taking care of him at the farm.”
Margaret chuckled to herself. “I didn’t think you’d volunteer to offer him a home!”
Neil took a bite of cake, pleased to see Margaret do the same.
“I’m not coming back, Neil. I can’t. Too many memories. I can’t go back to that house where Frank – where Frank…”
Neil quickly put down his plate to take her hand.
“Well, then, perhaps you should consider going into ministry in a less demanding church, with a smaller house and a little garden that Archie would enjoy?”
Margaret shook her head. “No. That’s not for me.”
“I know Bishop Paul would do everything in his power to find the right place for you, somewhere you’d feel supported and cared for. Ministry’s been everything to you, Margaret. You bring so much to the life and faith of others.”
“I’ll never be able to do that again. I wonder now how I ever did.”
“Margaret, I–”
She cut him off in mid-sentence. “It’s gone, Neil – any certainty I had about what I believe.”
“Look, you’ve been through so much. You need more time…”
“No.” She put her hand up to stop him. “You don’t understand. I believe in nothing. I have no sense of God, because if such a being existed, if there truly was a God who was all-seeing and loving, then I would know it now – and there’s nothing, nothing at all.”
“But you’ve heard so many bereaved relatives speak this way in the first wave of grief and shock. You’ve reassured them through it. You’ve reminded them of the promise in the gospel that Christ has gone before to prepare a place in his house for those we love. You know that we come from God and we return to him. You know that! You believe it with such passion that you make others believe it too!”
“Not any more. I have an overwhelming sense of guilt that I expected other people to believe that in their grief, when I now know I can’t believe it in my own.”
Shocked to the core by what he was hearing, Neil’s hand instantly lifted to cover his mouth. Margaret gazed at him, noting his distress.
“I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear.”
“I don’t think you’re well yet, Margaret. You need a chance to get your strength back…”
“That’s true. I might rediscover my strength – but not my faith. I’ll never believe again.”
Neil drew a deep breath, and minutes passed as each sat with their own thoughts.
“You should go,” Margaret said at last.
“No, I don’t have to leave yet…”
“You should go,” she continued, “to tell Bishop Paul my decision. Tell him I’m sorry, but I won’t change my mind.”
Neil nodded dumbly.
“And Neil?” There was sorrow in her eyes as she looked at him. “I know this lays a great deal on your shoulders, and that’s unfair on you. I also know that you’ll rise to the challenge brilliantly.”
He shook his head dismissively. “I’m struggling, if I’m honest. Everyone’s trying to be helpful, but there’s so much only the minister is allowed to do.”
“And you’ve got the work of two ministers to cope with. That’s tough, Neil, and I’m sorry I’ve been the cause of that.”
To his surprise, Neil felt tears pricking his eyes. Margaret looked calm and resigned – so different from the energetic, charismatic character who had inspired so many at St Stephen’s, the dear friend and mentor he’d come to love. In that moment, he wasn’t sure who he felt more sympathy for: the parishioners who would miss her inspirational presence, or Margaret herself in whom the flame of faith had gone out. Not for long, he prayed. Dear Lord, be with this lovely, sad, wounded soul. Stay near her. Protect her. Help her to find her way back to you…
Their conversation was over. There was nothing more to say. They stood to hold each other in a silent embrace that said so much. Then he left, and as he turned to see her standing in the bay window, his heart ached for her.
* * *
Iris had been staying at his house for little over a week when she made her announcement.
“Well, I’ve done it! I’ve signed the papers on number 60!”
Neil nearly choked on his mouthful of casserole.
“But you haven’t sold the house in Bristol yet, have you?”
“In the end, my neighbour decided to buy it for his daughter. He approached me privately, so there’s no estate agent involved. It’s all going through very quickly, I’m glad to say. I’ve been in that house for more than thirty years, since your dad set up his accountancy firm in the area. If it had dragged on because no one liked our home enough to buy it, I would have found that very distressing.”
“But I didn’t realize the people here in number 60 had actually agreed to sell!”
“I heard today. They’ve been waiting to know whether they’d got the house they’re after – and they’ve just heard it’s all going through. It’s a short chain, including two cash buyers, and one of them is me! My solicitor says we could complete in a matter of weeks.”
Neil drew a sharp breath, trying to take in the speed with which his childhood home was being sold, and his mother relocated. Her face was flushed with excitement, though, and he realized that his feelings were irrelevant compared to the tremendous upheaval she was facing in order to start a new life in Dunbridge.
“How can I help?” he offered with a smile. “What about packing up at the Bristol end?”
“Virtually done. I’ve been going through cupboards and drawers for months, getting rid of lots of bits and pieces I should have taken to the charity shop years ago.”
“You’ll need a removal company…”
“I’ve got one organized. They’ll pack the boxes properly for me too, so there’ll be some burly men on hand to do all the lugging about.”
Neil grinned at her. “You’ve got everything sorted, then!”
Her grin matched his. “I can’t wait, Neil. The house I’m buying backs right onto Harry’s beautiful garden, so I’ll have that wonderful view every morning when I draw back the curtains.”
“And Harry’s OK with all this…?
“He’s the one suggesting where I shou
ld go for nice curtains and reasonably priced carpet!”
Neil chuckled. “Always practical, that Harry.”
“And you don’t mind, Neil? You’re not worried that it’s going to cramp your style having your mother in the next road down?”
“Honestly, I’ll be too busy to notice!”
“Well, that concerns me too. Perhaps I can cook the occasional evening meal for you, just to make sure you get round to eating something decent every now and then. I want to help, you know. I’m very proud of you, Neil. Your father would be too.”
Neil could hardly believe what he was hearing. Surely this couldn’t be his mother, who’d nagged him incessantly from the moment he was born?
“Mind you, you need to wash that car of yours! I’ve been telling you that for days. No one’s going to trust a vicar who arrives in a filthy car!”
Thank God, thought Neil. If his mother completely lost her bite, he might not recognize her!
* * *
Claire was worried about Neil too. She knew he was overwhelmed with work, but then it wasn’t difficult to appreciate how tough it must be for a young, relatively inexperienced curate to take on all the challenges and responsibilities of a busy parish like Dunbridge. And it was even harder to do it all without the guidance and support of an established rector like Margaret. She feared, though, that the cloud of depression that seemed to be hanging over him was prompted by more than just overwork. It was less noticeable when he was in the full flow of his role as a minister, but very obvious to her at times when he was able to drop the mask of efficiency and simply be himself, either at home or in the company of those with whom he felt most comfortable. Then he seemed to wear an air of detachment, as if he was so deeply lost in his own thoughts that the world beyond was hardly touching him.
He would appear to be watching television, and yet she could see his mind was focused on images that certainly weren’t on the screen. Sometimes he lost his way mid-sentence, apparently unaware that the meaning of what he’d been saying had been abandoned. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed his lack of restful sleep, even though his lids would close with exhaustion whenever he sat still for more than two minutes at a time. It was as if there was a sadness right at the heart of him that he chose not to articulate, and which she couldn’t reach. He was shutting her out in a way that seemed totally oblivious rather than deliberate. She had to get to the bottom of it, not just for them as a couple, but for the sake of the wonderful, wounded man she loved.
It took a few days to tie up all the loose ends on the arrangements she resolved to make, but at last came the evening when everything was in place and she was ready to tell him about what she’d organized. With surprise, she realized she was a little nervous. Recently, there had been hardly any evidence of the easy-going Neil she loved so much.
He’d just finished a phone call in the upstairs office in Vicarage Gardens when she came up to join him, carrying two cups of coffee.
“Are you done now?” she asked, putting down the cups so that she could massage his stiff shoulders. “You look all in.”
“I’ve got one person ringing me back, but I imagine that won’t be till the morning now.”
“I don’t know how you cope with all this paperwork when it means you have to spend so much time locked up indoors,” she said, her fingers skilfully making their way along his tense muscles. “That’s why I love working outside. Fresh air always seems to blow the cobwebs away.”
He sighed as the knots in his neck started to loosen. “Mmm, I envy you.”
“You could do with a bit of fresh air yourself.”
He shrugged. “Well, I suppose I get the odd gulp of that when I run from one meeting to another.”
“Just imagine how lovely the Derbyshire Dales must be right now.”
He closed his eyes as if he were picturing the roll of the hills and the feel of the wind on his cheeks.
“I can dream, can’t I – but it’ll be a long time before I get there again.”
“No, it won’t. We’re leaving on Wednesday. It’s all booked.”
He turned sharply to look at her, not taking in what she was saying.
“Everything’s arranged. Hugh’s stepping in to cover your services for a couple of days. Peter and Cyn are taking care of all the other arrangements while you’re away. You need a break, Neil. You’re exhausted. It’s no wonder, when you’ve been through such a tough time lately. So I’m taking you away for a while. It’s all organized.”
“But I can’t go!” exclaimed Neil, his hand ranging over the pile of papers strewn across his desk. “Just look at this lot! No one can take all this over. There are too many loose ends.”
“Nothing that won’t wait for a couple of days.”
“Claire, I can’t…”
“You’re going, Neil, because if you don’t, I think you’ll be ill, and I love you too much to let that happen.”
His shoulders slumped then, as if he hadn’t got the energy to argue. He rested his head back against her, and she leaned over to kiss him on the lips.
“So,” she said softly, “you have tomorrow to dig out your walking boots, and we’ll set off first thing on Wednesday morning. OK?”
“OK,” he agreed, although there was no enthusiasm in his reply. Claire knew he really didn’t think it was OK at all.
* * *
There was barely a breath of wind as they reached the peak. They’d taken their jackets off and tied them around their waists by midday, lifting their faces to the sun as they stood, breathless and triumphant, with the long climb behind them.
“Coffee?” Claire’s voice broke the silence as they stood gazing out at the view.
“Love one!” replied Neil, taking off his backpack as he spoke. “I could murder a sandwich too!”
He looked over at a familiar flat rock just yards away from where they were standing.
“I was here last year, you know, just after my ordination. I left my car keys on that rock over there, and got right back down to the car park before I realized. Had to climb all the way back up again to fetch them.”
Claire’s face lit up with amusement. “So had you been having a picnic here?”
“No, I might have left the keys up here, but I’d made the daft decision to leave the sandwiches down there so they’d be a bit of a reward when I got back! I wasn’t thinking straight, was I?”
Claire spread out the cups and packs of food on the rock before settling comfortably on her jacket, which she’d laid on the grass. Her expression was thoughtful as she watched Neil doing the same.
“So what were you thinking about?”
“You. Wendy. Harry. I’d just been ordained. You remember, everything was so muddled at the time…”
She nodded before taking a leisurely bite of sandwich.
“Do you feel less muddled now?”
He looked across at her.
“About you, most certainly. I knew I loved you last time I was here. I just wasn’t free to feel that way and it was tearing me apart. So much has been in turmoil since then, but there’s one thing I’m absolutely certain of. I love you, Claire. I’ll always love you.”
“You must admit, though,” said Claire carefully, “when it comes to being the partner of an Anglican minister, Wendy’s much better material than I’ll ever be. I’m an odd choice for you in lots of ways. Faith’s fundamental to the man you are, and if I can’t share it – well, I worry that it could cause a lot of tension for you in the future.”
“But you’re never dismissive of what I believe. You’re open-minded. You support me in your own way.”
“But I’m full of questions. That might get you down, especially if, in the end, I can’t accept the answers that make absolute sense to you.”
Neil looked out over the rolling hills stretching away towards the horizon.
“I think,” he mused quietly, “we all hear God’s word in our own way, Claire, according to who we are and what we’ve been through. Christianity makes
absolute sense to me. Christ is a real presence in my life – always has been – and now it’s my pleasure and duty to help other people find him for themselves. But I can only help. I can only tell them what I’ve discovered in my own life. Their experience might be completely different from mine.”
He turned to look at her before carrying on. “I think God touched you on the night of Harry’s illness, and that for the first time you got a sense of his presence.”
She nodded. “I don’t know what it means, though. Was it real? It was a frightening night. We were both pretty emotional. I prayed for Harry when I’ve never, ever prayed before. Was that God? Was my prayer answered, or would Harry have got better anyway?”
“I think,” he replied, “that finding faith is one very small step on a journey of discovery that lasts a whole lifetime and possibly beyond. That journey may take us down different theological paths, and it’s possible that people may never attach whatever faith they feel to any religion at all – but we all take our own path. I’ve chosen mine, Claire, but I respect you in yours. I’d worry if you were instantly sure, if you suddenly embraced everything I believe, just because you love me. I want nothing more from you than your honesty – and your love. I need your love most of all.”
She leaned across so that their heads touched, her fingers winding around his before speaking again.
“And do you feel the same about Margaret? That she has to be free to make her own journey?”
She sensed a change in him as his body tensed.
“Margaret’s always been a Christian, deep in the heart and soul of her. Her certainty and sense of vocation has been a real inspiration to me.”
“And now? What now, when she seems to have lost that certainty?”
He looked troubled, not able to answer immediately.
“I can’t understand how that could happen,” he said at last. “I’ve heard Margaret so often bringing real comfort and encouragement to people who’ve been bereaved, reminding them of God’s presence and love…”
“But in the face of her own grief, she’s found that wasn’t reassurance enough.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. More than ever before, this was when she could have leaned on God, because surely he’s with us most of all when we’re facing despair and confusion. She believed that. She inspired others with her belief…”