Absolute Truths (53 page)

TWO

‘
What it amounts to is this. Christians do not need to be
perfect, before they can find in one another an acceptance and an approval which is that of the truth itself; or rather,
let us say, the truth himself, Jesus Christ.’

AUSTIN FARRER

Warden of Keble College,
Oxford,

1960-1968

A
Celebratian
of Faith

Desmond’s soft, moist hand trembled in mine.

Somewhere nearby Hall murmured: ‘Well, if you’ll both excuse
me ...’ I was aware of him moving rapidly upstairs as I said to
Desmond: ‘Perhaps we can have a brief word in your study.’

He led the way into that crowded room which I could remember
so clearly from the day I had searched it, but now I found it had
changed. The smell of mice and musty paper had disappeared. The desk had been tidied, the books dusted, the windows washed. The
curtains were several shades lighter.

As I sat down I said: ‘I’m glad to see you’re looking better, but
you shouldn’t try to force the pace of your recovery. Even if the
doctor judges that you’re now fit for work, you must take things
easy for a while.’ But Desmond, still hardly able to believe in this future which he had thought utterly lost, proved quite unable to
reply.

‘
Once you’ve settled down again,’ I continued hastily, anxious
to break this pause before it became too emotional, ‘I’d like you
to come and see me so that we can discuss how I can best help
you with your ministry here. I’m conscious that I’ve been at fault
for not giving you more support in the past, and I want to avoid
that mistake in the future. We must also discuss Father Hall; you
mustn’t think I intend to impose any changes in the parish without
consulting you.’

With relief I realised that Desmond was now capable of speech.
Indeed he became voluble. ‘He’s the most wonderful priest, Bishop
— so gifted, so devout, so imaginative in his care for others! I
consider it a true miracle that he should wish to remain here!’

I was not unpleased by this comment but felt his euphoria should
be tempered by realism. ‘Miracle or not,’ I said dryly, ‘he’s a strong
character and if he’s to stay we need to work out very carefully
how the two of you arc going to coexist. But all that can wait till
later. Now, Desmond ...’ Moving to the window I fixed my gaze
on my car, parked in the forecourt, and forced myself to say: ‘I
can’t let this conversation end without apologising to you for
removing that box from your bedroom. I did it because I feared
you’d been involved in illegal activity which would justify the police in making a search of the vicarage, but no matter how
benign my motives it was certainly a questionable way to behave.
The box will be returned to you and I know you’ll deal with the
contents as I would wish.’ I finally managed to wrest my gaze from
the car and face him. It would have been hard to judge which of
us was the more disabled by our embarrassment at that point, but
fortunately the realisation that Desmond was moist-eyed galvan
ised me into concluding the interview as rapidly as possible. ‘I
must now have a word with Hall — I’ll telephone you later to
arrange a time when you can come to see me,’ I said, speaking so
fast that I almost ran out of breath before reaching the final syllable,
and hurried out of the study without waiting for a reply.

Upstairs Hall was whistling The Tennessee Waltz’.

I decided it was time to inspect the redecoration of Desmond’s
bedroom.

The formerly dingy walls of the room were now a very bright
white. The curtains, so dirty that their true colour was impossible
to discern, lay piled in the middle of the threadbare carpet which
I remembered as mud-coloured but was now a pale beige. Hall
was washing his paintbrush in the corner basin. He had buttoned
his shirt and the sandals had been replaced by shoes. He jumped
when I entered the room.

‘
I was about to come downstairs,’ he said. ‘Would you like some
tea?’

I shook my head and moved to the window which faced not
only the Gothic architecture of the church but the new Starbridge
by-pass, a monstrous ribbon on stilts. The slate roofs and blackened
chimney-pots of Langley Bottom were jumbled together between
the church and the by-pass like debris on a slag-heap.

"The old order changeth,
^»
‘ I said. ‘And so it should. Without
change there’d
be
no renewal.’ I turned back to look again at the
bright white walls and the rotting
c
loth piled in the centre of the
room. Then I said: Thank you for coming to my diocese. I’m glad
you’re here. I want to make it possible for you to stay.’

Hall sat down heavily on the edge of the bed as if all the strength
had drained out of him.

‘
You’ll notice that I make no promise about St Paul’s,’ I said.
‘There may well
be
insuperable difficulties which prevent it being
used in the way you wish. But if we can’t have the healing centre
here then I shall find a place for it somewhere else.’

Hall managed to thank me. I was surprised how overcome he
was by my decision. ‘Didn’t you realise last Saturday,’ I said, ‘that
you’d won me over?’

‘
I thought I’d wrecked everything by crashing in on you when
you were upset and ignoring your rank while I applied first aid.’

‘
Ah.’ I paused to reflect on this memory, but as I had now
acquired memories which were infinitely worse, I found I could
recall the first aid without embarrassment. ‘It was an interesting
intervention of yours,’ I said vaguely. ‘A brilliant but high-risk
pastoral move — the sort of thing, perhaps, that Jon Darrow
might have attempted when he was your age. Or his hero, Father
Darcy.’

Hall moved back to the basin again without a word; presumably
he was too relieved by my benign comments even to thank me for
them, and it was only when he picked up the pumice-stone to
scrub the paint from his hands that he asked: ‘Did you manage to
see Father Darrow?’

‘Yes, but only for a couple of minutes. He has domestic problems.’

‘
I thought the whole point of being a hermit was that one
escaped domestic problems! How long is he likely to be out of
action?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘
Maybe I should chloroform you and bear you off to Starwater
Abbey in my Volkswagen.’

°That would certainly be a high-risk pastoral move!’

‘
I’m serious, Bishop. You need peace, quiet, light, space and
rest. You need to be looked after. You need to have your psyche stroked. You need, in other words, all the things that you’re not
going to get at the South Canonry within spitting distance of that
sick Cathedral.’

This was obviously my day for hearing bizarre remarks from
psychics, but before he could start talking again about the
Cathedral’s ‘bad vibes’ I decided I must make some attempt, no
matter how painful, to ground our talk in reality. ‘I’m sorry,’ I
said with difficulty, ‘that you should be seeing me at my weakest.’

Hall abandoned the pumice-stone and turned to stare at me.
‘You may be emotionally beaten up and physically exhausted,’ he
said, ‘but I see no sign of spiritual weakness.’

‘Obviously I’d like to believe that. However —’

‘
This
is spiritual weakness? Forgiving Desmond and welcoming
him back into the diocese? Forgiving me for bulldozing my way
around the South Canonry last Saturday? Inviting me to stay in
the diocese even though you know a lot of people are going to
disapprove because of my divorce? Having the courage not only to recognise the need for my controversial ministry but to give it
the green light? A spiritually weak bishop,’ said Hall, ‘would have
booted me out and washed his hands of Desmond — and he would
have acted in the belief that he was being spiritually strong.’

I moved back to the window and stared ‘again at the muddled
urban view where the new intermingled with the old. At last I
heard myself say: ‘The paradox is that I’m sure I shall always be a conservative bishop no matter how many liberal decisions I make.’

‘
In the end words like "conservative" and "liberal" don’t matter
— they’re just ways of describing reactions to current situations, just
code-language for attitudes which will date. But a truly Christian
bishop, Dr Ashworth, doesn’t date; hell never go out of fashion,
even in the 1960s, because Christianity mirrors the values which arc eternal.’ Having dried his hands he hung up the towel and led
the way to the door. All he said as we went downstairs together
was: ‘Phone me any time of the day or night if you need company
at the South Canonry.’

I nodded. I found I was feeling better, safer, more ready to face
the ordeal of returning to the empty house and waiting for Martin
to arrive. I had, of course, no intention of summoning Hall to the
South Canonry in a fit of panic, but it was reassuring to know
that if I did finally fall apart he would promptly rush forward to
stitch me together again.

Leaving the vicarage I drove back at last into the shadow of the
shining Cathedral.

As I stepped into the hall of the South Canonry I heard the phone
ringing and felt sure that my letter to Michael had produced the desired effect. Hurrying to my study I grabbed the receiver.

‘
Where have you been?’ demanded Charley instantly. ‘What on
earth happened to you? And why didn’t you phone again to let
me know there was no need to wait up for you?’

My acute disappointment was promptly replaced by an equally
acute guilt. I said: ‘I really am very sorry. After we spoke I got
mixed up with yet another old friend, and by the time I detached
myself it was too late to phone you again.’

‘
But why didn’t you spend the night at my flat? When I got up
this morning and saw your car was still parked by the church, I
was so worried that I nearly called the police! And after you finally
returned to collect the car, why didn’t you drop in to see me? I
suppose the truth is you went to see Michael and spent the night
at his flat, -and now you’re trying to cover up the fact that you
ditched me in favour of him!’

‘
I haven’t set eyes on Michael. Charley, all I can do is apologise
again and say that I got in a complete and utter muddle.’

‘
I wish to God Mum was here to sort you out. I miss her
dreadfully. I know she and I didn’t always get on but at least I
knew where I was with her and I just can’t work out where I am
with you at all — okay, okay, I know I have to make allowances for
you at the moment, but frankly I’m fed up with making allowances!
What about me? It’s my bereavement too, yet you never once ask
how I’m coping — you’re utterly self-absorbed! At least I’ve been
making some sort of Christian effort to think of someone other
than myself — at least I trekked down to Starbridge to look after
you —’

‘And I’m very glad you did.’

‘
I don’t think that’s true. In fact I think that’s a complete lie. What’s the matter with you, for God’s sake?
What’s going on?’

‘
Charley, I do understand that you’re upset, but I really think
this melodramatic shouting does neither of us any favours —’

‘
Well, how else am I supposed to get through to you and ham
mer home how bloody desperate I feel?’ yelled Charley, and
slammed down the receiver before I could attempt to reply. I hung up and waited for him to call back to apologise for his
loss of temper, but the silence only lengthened. After three minutes
I rang his flat and when there was no reply I could only assume
he had rushed out in a frenzy of fury and frustration. The level of
my distress became unbearable. Unlocking the drawer of my desk I reached inside for the journal in the hope that Lyle’s words would
point the way out of the emotional maze in which I was now lost,
but of course the journal was no longer there; I had left it on Jon’s
mantelshelf.

At that point the telephone did ring, but I now felt too debilitated to cope with Charley. Then I remembered that I was still
hoping to hear from Michael, and at once I grabbed the receiver.
‘South Canonry.’

‘
It’s
Martin,
Charles. This is just to report that Little Muggins
is still quivering on the hearth but Dad said I could retire from the
fray until tomorrow. Can I come straight to the South Canonry?’

‘
Please do.’ I made no effort to conceal my relief.

He arrived half an hour later. When the doorbell rang I could
only mutter: °Thank God,’ and hurry to meet him.

‘
Tea?’ I offered, having ushered him over the threshold, and
Martin said promptly: ‘Lovely! Do you have a few little leaves of
Earl Grey?’

We retired to the kitchen where I inspected the tea supplies and
Martin filled the kettle. °There’s a cake in the larder,’ I said as an
afterthought. ‘One of my Cathedral ladies brought it last Saturday
and the chaplains haven’t yet had time to eat it.’

‘
I’d adore a Cathedral lady,’ said Martin. ‘Do let me know if ever
you have one to spare. Incidentally, talking of the Cathedral, I’m
seized by a wild urge to attend evensong tonight. Are you going?’

‘
Well _’

‘
Sorry, silly question, of course you’re going, someone like you
goes to church every day, but do you mind if I trot along with
you? After such a hard day I can hardly wait to sink
into
a pew
and tune in to some celestial music.’

I did, of course, remember Hall’s negative comments about the Cathedral, just as I remembered Lyle’s feelings of revulsion. I also
remembered that Jon had told me firmly not to go there. But I
thought there were rational explanations for their reactions and that the Cathedral itself remained a hallowed place which could
not harm me. Jon had been primarily worrying that I would find
playing the role of bishop too much of a strain; Lyle had merely
been projecting her deepest fears on to the building, and Hall, by
casting the Cathedral as the villain of the piece, had been tactfully
referring to the bad feeling which existed among the senior church
men in charge of it. (By this time, of course, he would have heard
all the gossip.) I myself was certainly not keen to see Aysgarth, but
there was always the chance that he had decided to miss evensong;
contrary to what Martin fondly supposed, not all eminent clergy
men went to church every day. I was certainly not keen to play
the bishop either, but at this particular service I would be required
to do no more than kneel, sit or stand at the appropriate moments, and besides, there was a strong chance that a well-rendered, numi
nous choral evensong might provide some of the peace, light, space
and rest which Hall had advocated earlier.

I made up my mind to go.

But it was strange how difficult it was to rid myself of the
irrational notion that by entering the Cathedral I was stirring up malign forces which remained beyond my power to control.