The sky was bright and cloudless when Arnold woke up. The first thing he did was to look out of the window at the garden wondering where Nancy was located. Presumably somewhere amongst the vegetables, according to what Stan had told him the night before. His eyes wandered over to where Stan's car was usually parked and was surprised to see it gone. He would normally hear him leave in the morning as it woke him up, so he couldn't understand why this particular morning he hadn't. Whilst showering he was relieved Stan wasn't about as it gave him some time to think about what he was going to do. It made sense Stan had refused Arnold's help with the garden when he'd offered it that first day. He'd been there close to three months and over the period had, quite unwittingly, become very close to Stan. Rather like him, he'd had no friends to speak of and the fact they were so different and had no expectations of one another probably cleared the path for an understanding and a mutual appreciation. He had to admit he'd grown very fond of him, which made it even more difficult to decide what was the best action to take. It's all very well and good making cold and clear judgements on the actions people take when you have no connection with them, but it becomes very different when you're personally involved. That was the difference between Arnold's life at St. Tobias’s, serving God, and the life he now led. When he was in the church he was able to maintain a position of separation without which he knew it would have been difficult to do what he did.
As a citizen he knew he should inform the authorities of what he knew or try to persuade Stan to go to them himself. But he was finding it difficult to assess what benefit that would have. Stan would no doubt end up in jail for the rest of his life, and Arnold had never been a big fan of jails, for the simple fact that very little good came out of them. From what he'd learnt, most prisoners spend twenty-three hours a day locked up doing nothing, and there was little attempt to rehabilitate them back into public life. They became a burden on the taxpayer and the majority of prisoners re-offended when released. No, he couldn't see Stan's going to jail being of benefit to anyone. Nancy was dead, and nothing anyone did would bring her back to life. There were no grieving relatives, if he were to believe what Stan had told him, and he had no reason to doubt that. The more he thought about it the clearer he began to see the situation. He ended up firmly believing he shouldn't do anything at all. He wondered if that conflicted with what he'd always believed being a servant of God, and had to conclude that showing compassion for one's fellow man was of the utmost importance. God would have to accept whatever Arnold did as a manifestation of what he judged was the right thing to do, and he felt completely convinced this was correct. This filled him with a remarkable tingling sensation he likened to what he'd experienced when he was in church. He felt he was on the verge of discovering something, some new way of utilising religious doctrine in the outside world. He began to recognize the Church itself was some sort of a prison, maintaining a strict code of interpretation and obedience to the Word. If it was, it was doing itself no good at all, just like keeping all those prisoners couped up all day long in jail. It was in the execution - and the deed - that God's Will ought to be done, and that should be determined by circumstances, never by dogmatism. Arnold felt uplifted by these thoughts, and after he'd dressed and shaved he sat down to an egg and soldiers and coffee, feeling better than he'd felt for a long time. At last he was able to do something in his life that meant something again. Now it was clear, he'd been in a sort of limbo since St. Tobias’s had closed, not really connected with life. His relationship with Hermione was the one bright spark in his existence and now he thought perhaps things were going to change for the better.
He wanted to celebrate and decided to go for a bicycle ride in the crisp morning sunlight. He set off not really sure nor minding in which direction he was heading and was soon leaving Colerne behind and plummeting down lanes with high hedges. He had to stop and get off to walk up the steep gradients on the other side of the dips. There was no traffic to speak of and he had the roads to himself. He seemed to be heading west in the general direction of Bath but had no idea where he was. He came around a bend to see a derelict building on the other side of the lane. It was quite unusual-looking and made him slow down to take a closer look. It was made entirely of corrugated iron and seemed to have what looked like a bell-tower at one end that looked as if it would fall down any second. Overgrown and obviously left unoccupied and neglected for a very long time, it had all the things about it to suggest it had been a place of worship. Arnold rested his bike up against the dry stone wall opposite and stepped across the road, curious to investigate. As he walked around its perimeter he had to avoid creepers and brambles that had forced their way between the iron sheets forming the walls to pry around inside. He managed to get all the way round with difficulty and located what seemed to be a front and a back door, both secured with large rusted padlocks. He had never seen anything like it before but recalled reading about these prefabricated churches when he was studying in Guildford. They'd been supplied in the form of a kit, if he remembered correctly, and sold at the beginning of the 1900's for £200 to anyone who needed a place of worship in remote areas of the countryside. Members of a local community would each put one pound into a fund and send off for the kit to be shipped to them. It was then just a matter of deciding where it was to be put up. He wandered back to where he'd left his bike and turned to look again at the derelict church and felt a sudden impulse to go inside. He wheeled his bike over the lane and let it fall within the long grass to help conceal it from any passerby. He remembered seeing a loose section of corrugated iron where a beam of light had shone through highlighting some debris inside and he made his way back round and found the spot again. Carefully lifting the sheet of iron by its loose corner he bent it back far enough to step into the gloom. At first he couldn't see anything so he kept still, and when his eyes became accustomed to the darkness he began to look around. All he could hear were the guttural noises of brooding pigeons coming from the bell-tower, as he carefully stepped over several twisted metal chairs to find himself in the centre. It must have been about forty feet long by twenty feet wide, and looking up he could make out wrought cast iron frames that stretched across the width at regular intervals to hold up what was left of the roof. He wished he had his torch with him as the frames seemed to be ornately decorated, but just then there was an increase in the intensity of sunlight breaking through the clouds and the whole place suddenly revealed itself to him for just a few seconds. He had no idea these places could conjure up such a wonderful atmosphere from such meagre components. Stepping back into the daylight he knew he would have to come back another time and make a more thorough investigation.
He got back on his bike and retraced his route to Colerne, hoping he could find out from a map where this curious place was. As he arrived at the house he saw Stan's car outside. He parked his bike up and knocked on Stan's door, which was open:
'Stan.... Stan?'
He slowly walked along the hallway and stepped into the kitchen, where Stan was sitting with a cup of tea in his hands. Arnold sat down opposite him.
'How do you feel, old chap? Did you manage to sleep at all last night?'
'I'm ok, Arnold. I suppose.' He smiled weakly and paused before he spoke again:
'I imagine you've told the police, Arnold? Well, it wouldn't surprise me if that's what you done.'
'No, I haven't done anything, Stan. I've been thinking about it. What you told me. And I don't see what can be achieved by telling anyone else about this.'
Stan turned and stared disbelievingly at Arnold, saying:
'But I deserve to go to jail for what I've done, don't I?’
'I don't think twenty years in jail is going to change anything, Stan. You do feel ashamed for what you've done, don't you?'
Stan nodded quickly many times, with his eyes closed.
'And you're suffering because of it, aren't you?'
Stan continued his feverish head movements.
'Well, you'll live with this for the rest of your life. It's punishment enough. But what you must promise me, Stan, is that from now on you'll spend the rest of your life in pursuit of good deeds. You'll try to bring happiness and joy to everyone you know and will meet in the future. In that will lie your redemption, not by rotting away in jail.'
Stan opened his eyes and turned to look at Arnold with obvious relief. They both got up to face one other and came together in a hug. Arnold could hear Stan breathing through his clothes and they stood there for several moments suspended in the judgement of Arnold.
Stan was in his car and away within fifteen minutes of his epiphany after saying he felt as if he were a new man. Arnold saw him off and waved as the car rounded the bend out of sight leaving a slowly settling cloud of dust in the air. Arnold's curiosity began getting the better of him and he started to wander towards the vegetable patch. He found himself scanning the ground not sure what he was looking for. It looked like any other allotment and he soon gave up the exercise and tried to put the whole thing to the back of his mind. He climbed the stairs up to his flat and went inside to fix himself some lunch. As he opened the door he noticed an envelope on the mat and thought Stan must have popped it through the letterbox earlier and forgotten to say anything. He picked it up and took it to the kitchen table. It had been sent to his Corsham address and forwarded on, so there had been a delay in him receiving it. Sure enough he could see the postmark originally said late September. It was from the Halifax Building Society, responding to the letter he'd sent them in the middle of August:
Dear Mr. Drive
Thank you for your letter of 20/08/2008 in which you gave details of your deposit account number 43186043059.
May I first apologise for the delay in replying to your enquiry, as the time-scale involved with this account has necessitated some detailed investigations being made on your behalf. Please appreciate that as this account has been inactive for 35 years it has been difficult to locate.
I have discovered that a dormant status was allocated to it in 1980, and since then it has been administered by our investment branch based in London. I have passed your details on to them and they will be writing to you in due course with news of your investment portfolio in the near future.
If you have any further questions please do not hesitate to contact me.
I remain,
Yours sincerely,
Carlos Buenovedad.
What with his move and the unexpected turn of events in Colerne, he had completely forgotten about the letter he'd sent regarding the Halifax account book he'd found in the old suitcase. He wondered what on earth had happened to that small deposit. It had probably made a little bit of interest in the time period involved and would come in useful with Christmas coming up. He was being a bit optimistic though, as these sorts of things normally take far longer to sort out than imagined, so he revised when he would hear some news about it to sometime the following Spring. Who knows, there may even be enough money to buy a little car. He'd always seen himself driving a Morris 1000 and he knew there was a centre in Bath where they renovated them and put all sorts of new technology inside to bring them up to date. He'd read an article in the Evening Chronicle just last year, he remembered. Summer would be approaching by then so perhaps he could entertain the idea of a convertible! Now that would be nice, he thought. Driving a convertible Morris 1000. Or maybe even the station wagon model, the one with the wooden framework. But they were much more expensive, he was sure. He'd just have to see what he could afford.
Arnold brought his head down from the clouds at this point and admonished himself for being so vain. All this was getting far too ahead of itself, he realised, but he had enjoyed the moment to indulge in a freedom of fancy. It was something he would never have allowed himself back in the days at Corsham. He refolded the letter, carefully putting it back in its envelope, and placed it on the mantelpiece in the lounge before the phone rang. It was Hermione:
'Hello, love. Wanted to know if you'd like to come over for supper this evening? Lucy's due back from Durham at the end of this week. I've got a little surprise for you.'
He agreed, of course, as he knew that once Lucy was back it would be much more difficult for them to see each other. It was another reminder Christmas was approaching and he had no idea how he was going to spend it. He thought the best thing to do would be to consult Hermione as she was bound to come up with a plan for him. She insisted, as always, on coming to pick him up. He quietly hoped he could get away before Stan came home as he felt he needed a break from the house. In fact, the whole idea of getting away from the place for a while over Christmas appealed to him and he looked forward to bringing it up with Hermione.
Dead on six o'clock he heard her car in the driveway and within a minute he was downstairs. He'd been ready waiting for about half an hour, he was so desperate to see her.
'Gosh! I'll have to call you Jack In A Box soon! Off we go....' she chortled as he climbed in. He leant across and kissed her left cheek when she offered it to him. He was so pleased to see her it was the first thing he said.
'And I'm pleased to see you too, pet. Now, down to business... I assume you haven't made any plans for the Christmas period yet, have you?'
Arnold shook his head and was pleased to hear she'd obviously put some thought to it already.
'Well, I have an invitation for you. I intend to take Lucy on a short cruise around the Med and I want to invite you to join us. And before you say you can't afford it, it will be a little present from me. I happen to have an old school chum in the cruise business and she's managed to secure me a wonderfully knockdown price for all three of us. Of course, it means we'll have to come out of the closet, so to speak, as far as Lucy is concerned, as there's no way I want to share a room with her for ten days! But I don't have a problem with that. Have you, Arnold darling?'
Arnold was positively beaming at her and shook his head again, rather like a child who knows when it's being spoilt.
'Well, that's settled then. Marvellous,' she chuckled, 'we'll have such a wonderful time.'
She spent the rest of the drive to Corsham running through the itinerary of the trip. It involved a flight to Athens where they would join the boat, then sailing down to Libya via Crete, from where they worked their way around to Tunisia. They were then to sail back via Sicily to Athens on New Year's Day from where they flew back home. It all sounded too exotic to be true to Arnold. Places like Libya, Crete, Athens and Tunisia were just vague names he'd seen in atlases when he'd been at school. He was so overawed by the whole idea he didn't pay much attention when she said Trevor Hatswell was joining them for dinner. When they arrived she explained it really was long overdue for her to invite him round, after he had so magnanimously treated them all to dinner at the Jaipur, over three months earlier.
'Ah, yes' said Arnold, 'The last supper.'
He had just enough time to take her in his arms and kiss her before the doorbell rang.
'That'll be Trevor. I'd better let him in...' she whispered and was off like a butterfly to the front door. Trevor followed her back into the living room like a pet dog and sat where he was told next to Arnold, and immediately started talking:
'Hello, old bean. Haven't seen you for a while. How's it going in Colerne with your taxi driver chappie? Can't remember the last time I was up in those parts. But there again, I can't remember the last time I left Corsham, actually. Time does fly by, you know. How long is it since you moved up there? Blimey, it must be all of... nearly four months, by my estimation. Good Lord. So tell me all about it, then. Be a good chap.'
So while Hermione ran around getting them drinks and popping in and out of the kitchen to check on the food in the oven, Arnold outlined his life at Stan's house. He was intending to leave out any mention of the strange things he'd experienced during the night but unfortunately Hermione brought it up and he was forced to tell all. Trevor listened intently and said afterwards:
'That does sound spooky. Have you got to the bottom of it yet? Discovered any grisly murders there back in the Middle Ages?'
Arnold could see him taking an interest, like a terrier gnawing at a slipper. Hermione jumped to his rescue:
'Oh, do stop it, Trevor! Poor Arnold doesn't need you scaremongering. Come on, both of you. It's time to eat.'
She shepherded them into the kitchen and Arnold was glad of the interruption as it served as an opportunity for him to change the subject. Besides, he was genuinely interested in what had been going on in Corsham since he'd left and Trevor was the right person to know every tiny bit of gossip. As usual, Trevor drank too many gin and tonics and started to flirt with Hermione after they'd eaten, but Arnold was surprisingly pleased to see him after so long and didn't mind one bit. Their conversation turned to St. Tobias's, and Trevor had heard some interesting things regarding the conversion:
'Rumour has it it's all a bit iffy at the moment, what with the worries about the economy. It's the first industry to be affected, you know, the building trade. It's a lot of money to tie up, especially when you're not sure if you're going to be able to sell it on. You know, it wouldn't surprise me if it never gets started. And to tell you the truth, I won't be at all upset. Never heard of such a preposterous idea in the first place. As if you can evict God from a building! Well, it's blatantly ridiculous. Don't you agree, Arnold?'
Secretly, Arnold too was pleased that the work may be held up, as he had begrudgingly accepted the whole concept when originally told. But then, what could he have done about it? Until the work took place the untouched church seemed to be testament to his contribution and the longer it remained intact the happier he would be. They managed to avoid the subject of Christmas coming up as they knew as soon as Trevor got wind of their plans it would be common knowledge in Corsham within twenty-four hours. It was one thing for Lucy to be aware of what was going on, but they hardly wanted the whole world to know.
Finally they were able to bundle Trevor out of the door, still jabbering, and relax together on the sofa. Arnold wanted to hold on to her desperately that evening and it occurred to him how much happiness he'd denied himself all those years as a celibate priest, and what good it had done anyone.