Angels in the Architecture (42 page)

It was less than a minute had gone by when Alicia felt compelled to make a further acknowledgement.

‘Cold?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes.’ The man turned his head and smiled again, as though he were nonetheless about some purpose in sitting there.

Alicia knew she was going to be saying more although she could not have said why that was the case.

‘It’s a lovely day though, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes. Yes, indeed,’ the man responded similarly, turning briefly to her and then back to a purposeful stare across the lake. He spoke very well
, and Alicia fancied he was probably well educated.

‘I’ve been thinking what an incredible spot this is,’
remarked Alicia, ‘and how many must have walked this path over so many hundreds of years.’

The man smiled again, but this time without turning his head or saying a thing, as though he were enjoying a private joke.
For Alicia’s part she could see the thought entertained him and wondered why. She looked at him a moment further and then returned also to a concerted stare out to the lake, and the simple pleasure of an egg sandwich.

After a
few more minutes the thought entered Alicia’s head that the man had intended some purpose in sitting next to her, and as she was thinking what further enquiry she might make of him, he spoke instead to her.

‘Even these swans have been here these many years as well. One even speaks with
our Bishop, I hear.’

‘Spoke,’
said Alice.

‘Beg pardon?’ said the man a little
absent-mindedly.

‘A swan
spoke
to the Bishop,’ she repeated.

‘Oh yes, of course
.’ He was smiling again.

The two sat again quietly.

‘What do you do?’ Alicia asked after another minute or two.

‘Oh
, I’m retired now, my dear,’ the man replied. ‘But I keep active,’ he went on enthusiastically. ‘I like to impart my worldly wisdom where I can,’ he dipped his head to her and smiled.

‘Well
, the world could certainly do with more of that. In fact, I’ve found
myself
in need of some lately,’ said Alicia, ‘and it’s a hard thing to come by. Our lives are very complicated, aren’t they? It’s a challenge to balance it all and make sense of it all. Don’t you think?’

‘I think we
make
it complicated,’ the man replied, ‘when really it’s very simple.’

Alice had the feeling the old man had a lot more to say but was only going to do so if she asked him, as though he had no wish to impose his views unbidden
. In that case, she decided she ought to ask him.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, what in your life is complicated, tell me, my dear,’ he responded.

‘Well, I
...’ Alicia started, taken aback. ‘Well, I’m a physicist. I have a complex set of workplace relationships, and I’m married with two children, one of whom is autistic. And we’re going to move to America, we’ve decided. And ...’

‘Well
, that all seems most
un
complicated,’ the man asserted.

‘I suppose when it’s all in one sentence
, it does seem fairly simple,’ responded Alicia.

‘So the question is
, of course,
why
have you made it complicated?’

Alicia laughed. ‘So my life’s not complicated
.
I
just made it that way.’

‘Oh
, it’s not something to be ashamed off, my dear. Everyone does it.’

Alicia laughed again. ‘Do you do it?’

‘I’m not everyone,’ he replied, leaning in towards her in mock conspiracy and smiling. ‘But I did have to practise for many years before I was as good at it as I am now.’

‘As good at what?’

‘Creating my life myself. Knowing that I’m responsible for it all.’

‘And making it less complicated too
, I suppose,’ Alicia asked further.

‘We don’t make something less, nor do we make something more. We just make it.’

‘
Now
you are making it complicated,’ said Alicia, smiling.

‘Do you have a bone in your body, my dear, called
“complicated”?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Do you own a
thing
called complicated?’

‘No.’

‘Well then, this thing you want to make less, where do you start with that process if you can’t find it to make it less?’

‘But it’s a state – a state of being,’
replied Alicia.

‘Is it?’

‘Well, isn’t it?’

‘Life
occurs
for you as being complicated, but that doesn’t mean it
is
.’

‘So life
occurs
for you as being cold, so you wrap your coat around you – you make yourself warmer. Am I right?’

‘Yes! Perfectly.’

‘It’s not just that it
is
cold?’

‘No. There are some in the world
who would find this quite tropical, I’m sure,’ replied the man.

Alicia looked at her companion and weighed up whether he was mad, plain old eccentric, quite intelligent in a quirky kind of way, or some combination. She thought he was at least harmless,
definitely
sweet, and certainly quite sincere
.

‘Well
, I shall be off on the remainder of my walk.’ The gentleman suddenly rose. ‘Very nice to meet you,’ he said, bowing a little and tipping his hat to Alicia.

‘And you.’

Alicia watched him walk away and noticed he tipped his hat to others passing by, as though his personal code insisted he acknowledge every person he came within several metres of. She wished she’d spoken a little more with him; indeed, she felt he’d had yet more to say, as did she.

Oh
, well.

Alicia thought it was the nicest conversation she’d had all day.

Satchel in hand, Alicia stopped by Dryden Cooper’s office on her way out.

‘You off?’ Dryden asked, looking up from his desk.

‘Yes, in a mo,’ Alicia replied, stepping in and closing the office door.

‘What’s up?’

‘Just wanted to let you know, I’m been shortlisted for a new position,’ Alicia stated.

‘You’re joking!’

‘Nope.’

‘Where?’ Dryden asked.

‘Columbia,’ Alicia replied.

‘
New York?’

‘
Uh-huh.’

Dryden remained stunned a moment
while Alicia gave a hope-you’ll-understand smile.

‘That’s a big change,’ Dryden commented, settling into the idea.

‘It’s the right time for Pete and I, and we think we can probably get Tim into more advanced treatment in the United States,’ Alicia responded.

‘And your research
... ?’

‘. . .. will be pa
rt of a broader programme there and across much of the East Coast,’ said Alicia.

Dryden paused. ‘Well, good for you,’ he said
, smiling back at her.

‘Thanks.’ Alicia took a deep breath. ‘I’ll
... let you know.’

‘Good. Good,’
said Dryden.

Alicia turned and left the office quietly.

‘They’re negotiating nuclear weapons reductions in Geneva today,’ Pete mentioned, as he strolled across Lincoln Square with Alicia.

‘Good, but I’m freezing – can we hurry up?’ Alicia put her arm
through Pete’s and pulled in close.

‘Aren’t you interested?’

‘No, I’m fucking cold!’

‘Fancy a pash under the arch?’

‘My lips are nearly frozen and my tongue’s practically hanging out. No!’

‘Worth a try
.’ Pete grinned as they quickened their pace through Exchequer Gate to the Cathedral close.

‘You don’t think I’m going to be too much of an outsider, do you?’ Alicia asked.

‘No more than everyone that goes is,’ Pete replied.

‘So you’re a bunch of oddballs then?’

‘As best as I could describe it: yes. C’mon, here we are.’

Pete
steered Alicia through a small front gate and up the short path to a cottage front door. Just as Pete went to knock, the door opened anyway, as much to Loraine’s surprise on the inside, as to Pete and Alicia’s.

‘Hello!’ Loraine exclaimed. ‘Do come in
.’ She stepped back, pulling the door wide open with her.

‘
Hello, Loraine.’ Pete smiled, stepping in and kissing his host on the cheek.

‘You lovely man, how wonderful to see you! And
you, Alicia! Come in, come in! I was just shooting out to the gate with the milk bottles, head on in. I won’t be a tick,’ she said, scooting out the front door.

Pete took his coat off to hang in the hall, keeping a foot at the front door to stop it slamming shut in the wind. Loraine tottled back in from the gate just as quickly as she’d gone out
, and Pete closed the door behind her.

‘Br
rr, it’s cold out. Well, come on through then,’ Loraine repeated, guiding Pete and Alicia down the corridor.

Alicia could hear the chatter coming through the door ajar at the other end, relieved at not having to walk into a quiet room where everyone would be bound to stare at the newcomer. She was surprised then when most faces in the room they entered did turn towards her, and more so that a few cheers, whoops, and handclaps greeted her as she walked in behind her husband. She looked
at Pete, raising her eyebrows questioningly, and then turned a grateful smile to the group in general.

A
gentleman Alicia knew instantly from Pete’s description must be Maitland, rose from his seat nearby, holding out both arms to her.

‘Welcome, welcome, welcome, my
dear Alicia. We were beginning to think you didn’t exist!’ Maitland took hold of her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I had in fact decided your husband was so thick and so ugly, no one could possibly have wanted to marry him, so my dear, you are
quite
a surprise,’ Maitland beamed at her. ‘Do come and sit just here,’ Maitland pulled a chair closer to his own. ‘And you, old boy,’ he addressed Pete, ‘go down there and don’t bother me.’

Everyone laughed
at Maitland’s games; obviously, this was par for the course Alicia thought, watching her husband squeeze his way around the other side of the large table and to the far end of the room.

As he did
, he passed behind a familiar face that nodded and smiled her way. Alicia returned the smile, trying to position the older gentleman in her universe.

‘And this
is Nigel,’ announced Rose, indicating the same man. ‘Maitland and I met Nigel the other day, frequenting, as he does, a particular watering hole, which ... oh goodness me, I can’t remember ...’ She was chuckling herself at what she knew most of her guests would know was a reference to
The Magna Carta
.

‘According
to Rose, Nigel “looks interesting”,’ Maitland added. ‘Personally, I think he looks rather ordinary, but he has extraordinary taste in Scotch. That is why I invited him.’

Rose, Loraine
, and a few others rolled their eyes at Maitland’s not-so-false attempts at arrogance, while their new guest simply smiled in such a way as to acknowledge what others already knew was Maitland’s general approach to relaxing the atmosphere.

‘And while we’re
congratulating Maitland ... ,’ added Loraine, smirking, ‘... he also deserves some praise I think for his adventures into interfaith understanding and development.’

Alicia continued to ponder the new
guest Nigel, as Loraine then Rose and then Maitland talked about the suggestion for a project with the Jewish community, to commemorate the death of Jews wrongly executed for the murder of the child now known as Little St Hugh..

Alicia had heard the story of the child
from Pete and since visited his small shrine in the Cathedral. Her hosts were pleased with the project, and she thought it sounded both humanitarian and practical to create a historically unifying project such as this.

The discussion brought congratulatory comments from around the table,
and Alicia noted the real humility evident in Maitland’s demeanour; one who otherwise preferred to feign arrogance.

At a
pause Nigel spoke, and it was then Alicia remembered him as her brief companion at the lakeside a few days earlier. She warmed to his presence immediately, almost as if he were her best and only friend, his voice instantly as comforting as it had seemed then.