Absolute Truths (80 page)

‘
I had this sudden impulse to pray in the Cathedral,’ I said. ‘Never
mind why. Jon Darrow had advised me not to go there, but in
fact this morning I never even thought of him because this impulse
drawing me to the Cathedral was so strong. And if indeed I’d remembered his advice I’m sure I’d have discarded it. I’m not a psychic, as he is. I’d have thought it reasonable to assume that
whatever bothered him when he attended Lyle’s funeral wouldn’t
bother me ... although I confess I did become a trifle disorien
tated at evensong the other night. But that was just a passing attack
of nerves, inconvenient and embarrassing but not dangerous. Or was it a forerunner of ... no, never mind that. I must stick to the
facts and not indulge in speculation ... I’m sorry, where was I?’

‘You went to the Cathedral –’

‘– and as I approached I thought it was looking exceptionally
sinister. But I may have been influenced by a nightmare I had just
before I woke up. I ... no, forget
that, I’m speculating again. Let
’s just say I was in a very overwrought state.’

‘
In what way were you very overwrought? Were you breathing
hard?’

‘No.’

‘Sweating?’

‘No.’

‘Crying?’

‘Good heavens, no!’

‘
Then why do you insist that you were so overwrought?’

‘
Last night both my sons arrived home. There’d been a catas
trophe in which they were involved and I had to try to help them
endure the aftermath. The evening was extremely distressing.’

‘Did you sleep at all afterwards?’

‘For some hours, yes.’

‘
Then I
assume
your ministrations must have met with some degree of success. Otherwise you’d have been too disturbed to
sleep at all.’

‘
True, but –’

‘Okay, I accept you were still strained as the result of the evening,
but on the other hand you were exhibiting none of the physical
symptoms of extreme distress. When you said just now that the
Cathedral looked exceptionally sinister, did you mean that the
whole landscape had an air of unreality? Did you feel, for instance,
that you were moving in a dream?’

‘
No, I wouldn’t put it like that. Everything seemed completely
real. Anyway, I reached the Dean’s door, I went in, I –’

‘
You weren’t tempted to change your mind and beat a quick
retreat?’

‘
Certainly not! I’m not a coward and I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in –’ I tripped on the unutterable word but recov
ered. Austerely I insisted: ‘I felt required to pray in the Cathedral.
I told myself the eerie atmosphere was entirely the product of my overwrought mind.’

‘
If it had been seriously overwrought I doubt if you could have
forced yourself to enter the building. But I do accept that you
were tense, strained and uneasy. What happened next?’

‘
I went to my episcopal throne and began to pray. Almost at once I was aware of an atmosphere which was ...’ I reached for
an adjective but found none. ‘Simultaneously,’ I said, hurrying on,
’the temperature fell sharply and I felt
as
if I were suffocating. I also wanted to retch. I regret to say that at that point I panicked,
moving towards the head of the nave, and I then saw by one of
t
he pillars ... I then
thought
I saw by one of the pillars ...’ Words
finally failed me.

‘
You knew him?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long has he been dead?’

‘Twenty years.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Stopped. Muttered his name.’

‘Did he answer?’

‘
Don’t be absurd, of course he didn’t! He’d vanished in a flash.’

‘
There’s no chance that you mistook his identity? No chance
that this was a real person you saw and he vanished merely by
stepping behind the pillar?’

‘
I
tell
you I recognised this man, there was no question of mis
taken identity, he was absolutely unmistakable –’

‘
Okay, what happened next?’

‘
Then I have to admit I did beat that quick retreat you mentioned
a
moment ago. In fact it was so quick I didn’t even stop to switch
the alarms
back on.’

‘
I think you made a smart move. If Hamlet had made a quick
exit the moment he first saw his father’s ghost he might have settled down with Ophelia and lived happily ever after.’

The unutterable word had finally been spoken but I was almost
too irritated to notice. ‘I’m sure in normal circumstances I’d laugh at
that joke,’ I said, ‘but at this particular moment –’

‘
I assure you
I’m
speaking seriously. One should never meddle
with what Father Darcy used to call "discamate shreds of former personalities" unless one’s an experienced exorcist.’

‘
But I really can’t believe I saw a –’ I baulked at the word again.
‘Yet I know I saw that man who died in 1945. So the question is –’

‘
Bishop, the important question here is not whether you saw a
ghost or not. The important question is why you saw what you
thought you did see.’

‘
But –’

‘
Let’s shelve the word "ghost" for a moment and keep this very
simple. There were actually four abnormal things which happened
to you in that cathedral. One: you experienced extreme cold. Two:
you felt
as
if you were suffocating. Three: you felt sick. And four:
you saw so clearly that there’s no question of mistaken identity a
m
an who died in 1945. I think we can accept
as a
working hypothesis that all four are related, but the first three events interest me
more than the last. That’s because although the sighting could
have been some form of optical illusion, there was nothing illusory,
was there, about the cold, the suffocation and the nausea?’

‘
Nothing. So what was going on?’

‘
I’ll be quite frank and say I’ve no idea. But I’ve no doubts about
the correct way forward. We need to stage a reconstruction tonight
when the Cathedral’s empty again.’

‘But the light won’t be the same – the shadows will be different –’

‘
Normally that would be important, but I’m much more inter
ested in what you didn’t see than what you did.’

‘And after the reconstruction –’

Then I believe I’ll be in a position to decide whether an exorcism
of all or any part of the Cathedral is required ... What are you
planning to do today? And don’t, please, even think of giving me
the answer: "Work."‘

‘
I have to look after my sons. And then there’s a friend I have
to see at the Staro Arms –’

‘
I quite understand that you can’t ditch your sons, but do please
ditch the friend and try and spend the time between now and the
reconstruction as quietly
as
possible.’

‘
Are you saying all that because you think I’m on the brink of
going mad?’

‘
No, I’m saying it because I want you to be in good shape for
the reconstruction. The more frazzled you are, the harder it
becomes for me to make an accurate diagnosis about what’s going
on.’

‘
If only I had some idea what this incident’s about I’d be less
likely to wind up frazzled!’

‘
The odds are that it ties in with your bereavement in some
way. When the mind’s been rubbed raw by suffering, it’s more
susceptible to psychic disturbances in the atmosphere.’

‘
But are you saying ... No, you can’t be! You don’t really
believe in ghosts, do you?’

"Ghost"
is
just a word, just a symbol for a complicated phenom
enon which in the end we can’t describe properly because we don’t
have enough information. But if I believe in the Communion of Saints, departed souls who have found their way after death to
God, why shouldn’t I also believe in departed souls who have lost their way home and left discarnate shreds of their former
personalities here on earth to cause trouble?’

‘
One concept reflects the doctrine that after death we find eternal
life with God,’ I said, now very austere indeed, ‘and the other
concept is a dualistic fable which embodies an inadequate doctrine
of salvation and which
is
primarily used to explain the mental
a
berrations of the living.’

‘
Yes, Bishop. Of course I wouldn’t presume to argue with you
about theology, but you’re not a doctor, are you, so I feel entitled
to argue that a phrase like "mental aberration" doesn’t even begin
to come to grips with the reality you experienced here.’

There was no reality. What I saw was all in my mind.’

‘
What we all see
is
all in the mind. What comes to the mind via
our
five
senses is popularly known as "reality", I agree, but Jung
thought the reflections of our unconscious minds could be as much
a part of reality as our normal self-censored perception of events. And anyway, surely you’re not going to try to tell me that absolute
truths are confined to what we can see, touch, taste, hear and
smell?’

I drummed up the grace to say: Touché!’ before venturing the
comment: ‘I think what I’m trying to say is that the sort of paranor
mal incident I experienced this morning belongs to the bottom
level of the psyche and can’t be said to have any spiritual signifi
cance – true reality – whatsoever.’

‘
It’s been my experience,’ said Hall, ‘that all things can be worked
by God into his creative and redemptive purposes,
even
the most
unlikely psychic incidents and paranormal phenomena.’

‘
I’ll let you have the last word.’ Too exhausted for further debate
I stood up and began the task of ending the
conversation
on a
practical note. ‘I’ll meet you at seven o’clock tonight by the Dean’s
door on the north front,’ I said briskly, ‘and I’ll ask Miss Peabody
to make sure no one’s arranged to visit the Cathedral after hours.
By the way —’ I decided it was more than time to remember my
pastoral responsibilities ‘— how’s Desmond?’

‘
Standing by with a box of matches. The Archdeacon’s due to
deliver the porn this morning.’

This seemed a suitably bizarre sentence to end a most bizarre
interview.

I led the way out of my study into the hall.

Charley, fully-dressed and clean-shaven, was coming down the
stairs
as
we left the study. I saw him hesitate, realise there was no escape and move on reluctantly towards us. After he had greeted
Hall he asked politely: ‘How’s Rachel?’

‘
Gone home. Down here for long?’

‘Probably not.’

Too bad. Come and have breakfast with me some day,’ said
Hall surprisingly, ‘and I’ll prove I don’t eat Evangelicals on toast.
A tame Anglo-Catholic never did anyone any harm and can
occasionally even be useful.’ Without waiting for Charley to reply
to this extraordinary speech he added to me: ‘Until seven, Bishop,’
and disappeared outside to his car.

‘
What on earth was that oddball doing here at this hour?’
demanded Charley, mystified,
as
soon as the front door closed.
There was a private matter which needed to be discussed.’ I
moved towards the kitchen before adding over my shoulder: ‘How
are you feeling?’

‘
Terrible. Do you think Father Hall guessed and was being
friendly to cheer me up?’

But I was remembering belatedly how I had told Hall that my
sons were struggling with the aftermath of a catastrophe, and I
realised his off-beat pastoral gesture had not been based on any
psychic intuition. Guardedly I said: ‘Perhaps,’ and changed the
subject. ‘What are you going to do today?’

Charley followed me into the kitchen and began to fill the electric
kettle. ‘I thought I’d sit in the grounds of Starwater Abbey and
try to figure out what on earth I’m supposed to do with myself.’

‘
If you wanted to talk to Jon —’

‘
I’m sorry, I know you think Father Darrow’s a genius who can
fix
anyone up, but to be honest I’ve never felt comfortable with
him. I always feel he knows too much about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘
Well, he knows, doesn’t he, that I was fathered by a bastard
who wrecked my mother, betrayed his ordination vows and gave
you hell. He knows I’ve got a terrible inheritance and my only
hope of survival is to model myself on you — a hope which now
seems to be in ruins. He knows the whole truth.’

Suddenly unable to stand without support I leaned against the
doorframe and wiped the sweat from my forehead. At that same
moment Charley turned away from the refrigerator after retrieving
the milk, saw my expression and nearly dropped the bottle.

‘
For heaven’s sake, Dad, what’s the matter?’

I said: ‘This situation’s destroying you, destroying your life. I
can’t
let
it go on.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘I’ve got to tell the truth.’

‘What truth?’

The absolute truth. I’ve got to set you free.’

‘But —’

‘
Everything you said just now — everything you said just now
— everything you said —’ But I could not get the words out, so overwhelmed was I by the thought of what had to be done.

Charley said, trying to help me along: ‘About Father Darrow knowing the truth?’ and suddenly, in a miraculous infusion of
strength, the adrenalin started to flow.

I shouted: ‘It’s not the truth! It’s a lie! It’s an
absolute
lie!’ And
as I spoke I knew that in that other dimension of reality which I
could neither
see
nor hear, Lyle was exclaiming: THANKS BE
TO GOD!’ and willing me to have the guts to go on.