Lamplight in the Shadows (19 page)

‘Ah, I apologise. For the real Kingdom of Heaven, we would have had to drive to Bideford or Ilfracombe and from there catch a boat across to the Island of Lundy. I thought that might be a little too far for today. However, you must admit that it is preferable to the abattoir we have just left.'

‘I can certainly agree to that. But what has Lundy got to do with it?'

‘It used to be owned, amongst others, by a family called Heaven. One of the sons was a priest and he decided to build a church on the island. Henceforth, it was known as the Kingdom of Heaven – as much for the beauty and peace apparently found on the island as for the existence of the church. I have never ventured there and, as I said, it is far too far for today. However, that is the story.'

‘Is this place really still used?' Janice ran a finger over the nearest pew and studied the resulting black mark on her finger.

‘Now and again; though there is some talk of the church selling it for conversion into a one-bedroomed cottage.'

‘Complete with organ.' She glanced around at the ceiling and noted the absence of electric light. ‘How can they have an organ without electricity?'

‘Leg power. It has two foot-operated bellows, which the organist has to pump whilst playing the keyboard.' Jules walked over to the instrument and rolled back its lid. ‘Correctly speaking, it is a harmonium or, as it was once known, a parlour organ.' He swung his legs over the wooden stool and shuffled to the centre.

‘People would once have had them at home instead of pianos. They are really reed instruments, rather than hammer and strings.'

‘How come you know all this? I didn't know you were particularly musical.'

He grinned and started to pump the two foot-pedals. They were stiff through lack of use and required an action not unlike the effect of a cyclist riding up a steep hill. A puffing noise escaped with every downward movement of a pedal.

‘I have to confess that I do, from time to time, listen to what my brother says. Not that I would care for him to know that.'

He placed a finger on the keyboard and a thin, high note echoed around the chapel. He pressed a few more and, having satisfied himself that he was in the right place, proceeded to play a somewhat stilted melody, accompanied by the background puffing and occasional wheezing of the stertorous bellows.

‘Do you recognise it?'

‘I think it is the theme tune from
Love Story
.'

‘Ha! My talents are not wasted!' He stopped pumping the bellows and the notes slid to a groaning halt. ‘My God, that's knackering.' Then, with a theatrical look towards the roof, added in a pompous voice, ‘Sorry, I should say “Gosh! That is exhausting for one's quadriceps”,' and made an exaggerated sign of a cross over his chest.

Janice laughed. ‘Can you play anything else?'

‘Not a thing. If music is a form of language, then what you have just heard is all I can speak in that particular tongue. But at least I can claim to be multi-lingual.'

He closed the lid of the harmonium, swung his legs back over the stool to face Janice and remarked, with what he hoped was an innocent expression, ‘How is your love story going, sister-in-law dear?'

Before she could answer, the windows were illuminated with lightning and a particularly loud clap of thunder rolled overhead, followed by more streaks of forked-lightning that reflected off the lime-washed walls of the chapel, imparting a somewhat eerie glow. Jules watched as she opened and shut her mouth in silent response, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before the chapel was plunged back into comparative darkness. Janice turned and walked slowly to the lectern, fingering the carved wooden edge before speaking again.

‘I think you already know the answer to that.'

‘Well, I get the impression that life is not the proverbial bowl of cherries.'

‘You could put it that way.'

She continued to trace her finger through the accumulated dust, pausing when she came to the closed bible and then, almost absent-mindedly, outlined the book itself. Jules left the organ stool and walked across to the front pew facing the lectern. Seating himself in the corner at the far end, he leant back, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.

‘When did it start to go wrong?'

‘You could say that it was never really right.'

‘Surely there must have been a time when you both thought it was good?'

‘Perhaps… though probably for the wrong reasons.'

Jules watched whilst she continued her finger drawing, her head firmly down, as though reluctant to catch his gaze. It was a few moments before either of them spoke again.

‘I was training as a nurse and hated it. I hated the job and the studying; I hated living in the nursing home – except it was better than living at home. I only agreed to nursing as a means of shutting them all up. My sister – she's older than me – was always the brainy one. When she left school, she landed a job in a building society. Almost immediately, they encouraged her to take some qualifications and now she is a branch manager. Her husband works in a law court as a court clerk. I didn't really know what I wanted to do. It was my mother who suggested nursing – I think she always wanted to be a nurse herself.'

The sudden noise of the chapel door opening stopped her speaking. She looked up warily. The sound of the falling rain intensified, but nobody entered.

‘Don't worry. It is just the wind. I must have insecurely fastened it. So, where were you? I think you were just saying about your mother wanting to be a nurse.'

‘Well, that's it really. At least that's the reason I was living at the hospital.'

‘Which is where you met James?'

‘Yes.'

‘How did he propose to you?'

‘He didn't.' Janice looked up at Jules. ‘Didn't he tell you?'

‘Tell me what?'

‘How we got engaged?'

‘No.'

‘Oh, I thought he might have done.' She paused to trace another line across the front of the dusty bible cover. ‘I asked him when it was leap year. You know – 1984; it is supposed to be a woman's prerogative then, isn't it?'

‘And he accepted.'

‘Yes – though, not at first. He seemed a little reluctant to commit himself, but finally came round to the idea.'

‘Perhaps he wanted to qualify first?'

‘Perhaps.'

‘You seem uncertain.'

‘I'm not sure that he really loved me.'

‘That seems a little harsh. What makes you think that?'

‘I think he was just lonely at the time. You know, tired of being on his own, studying all the while.'

‘Couldn't the same have been said for you – well, at least without the studying?'

Janice gave a rueful grin.

‘You're probably right. He seemed like a good catch – you know – my passport from drudgery. After all, marrying a doctor is supposed to be exciting, isn't it?'

Jules inclined his head and said nothing.

‘Well, it may be for him; exciting, that is. It is not for me. Ever since we've been married, he has studied for more and more qualifications and now he is even speaking of becoming a priest as well as a doctor, for Christ's sake!'

‘Surely the partnership offer in Bishopsworth has been a good thing?' he responded, ignoring the incongruity of her last sentence. ‘That means you will be able to settle down in a new house and then, who knows, James might begin to feel more settled himself.'

‘Which is fine for him. It is just that I don't want to go to Bishopsworth. I don't want to be in Barminster either. I…'

She paused, stopped drawing and once more looked towards Jules.

‘Go on,' he encouraged, his voice almost a whisper.

‘I… I don't think… I don't think I really love him anymore.'

Her last words were half-drowned in a tearful rush as she leant against the lectern and buried her head in her hands. Jules walked to her and placed a comforting arm around her trembling shoulders. As he did, more lightning illuminated the chapel, revealing the outline of James standing at the back. The two brothers stared at each other for a few moments before James turned and walked out.

‘James!' Jules finally blurted, but was speaking to the shadows.

‘What?' Janice raised her head as she spoke, her voice stricken with concern.

‘I… er… James…' Jules hesitated before continuing. ‘I was about to say that James will be wondering where we are. We ought to try to get back to the cottage as soon as the rain eases.'

‘You won't tell him what I said, will you?'

‘I'm sorry. I did not mean to distress you. Here, wipe your eyes with this. I am afraid your make-up is not exactly waterproof judging by the black streaks on your cheeks.' Jules offered her his handkerchief, which she took but did not immediately use.

‘You won't, will you? Please? Promise you'll not say a word?'

‘I promise I won't repeat a word of what has been said,' Jules carefully replied, looking from Janice towards the spot where James had been standing. ‘I cannot envisage any reason for me to do that.'

‘Thank you.' She moved forward and gave him a light kiss on one cheek before vigorously applying the handkerchief to her ruined mascara. Having blown her nose, she made to return the handkerchief to Jules. The action made her laugh. She paused and then stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

‘Perhaps I'll return it to you once I have washed it! Come on, Sir Walter Raleigh.' She linked her right arm with the left arm of a rather pensive Jules. ‘See me safely back across that wild savannah!'

As they moved towards the aisle, Jules glanced at the front cover of the bible, where Janice had drawn a heart with an arrow passing through it. It resembled those sketches young teenagers tend to draw around the initials of their latest boyfriend. Only in this case, there were no initials and the arrow was broken.

* * *

‘God rest you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay
…'

As she completed her cooking, Connie Armstrong sang along to the Christmas record she insisted on playing for the occasion of the family's pre-Christmas celebration. She was immune to the tension she perceived had been present throughout the afternoon. Whilst she had no idea as to what it was all about, neither had she any intention of asking. Having raised her two boys in a small house, she was used to the frequent power struggles as they vied for supremacy. She knew of no reason why their sibling rivalry should have changed simply because they were now adults and leading their own lives.

‘
Oh, good tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy…'

Rinsing a used saucepan, Connie looked out of the window into the darkened garden and saw nothing but her own reflection staring back. Earlier, she had asked Janice if she wanted to assist with the cooking. A daft idea, as it soon became apparent that the woman did not have a clue and Connie had said nothing when Janice finally slid out of the backdoor for a cigarette. She sometimes worried about James and how he fared when faced with a wife who did not cook. That said, he looked well enough, albeit a bit thin for her liking.

‘I hope you have that wine open, Jim,' she called to her husband in the general direction of the sitting room. ‘The first course will be ready in a few minutes.'

In the sitting room, Jim and his two sons were enjoying a glass of Bollinger, which had been a gift from Jules. Of Janice, there was no sign.

‘I bet it is prawn cocktail,' whispered James to his brother.

‘Does she know any other?' Jules replied with a knowing grin. ‘One day she will surprise us and do something challenging.'

‘Like soup?'

They laughed, drawing their father's attention.

‘What is the joke, lads?'

The brothers glanced at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. They would say nothing that would imply that they were ungrateful for their mother's efforts.

‘Nothing much, Pops. I was just pulling Jules' leg about his squeamishness this morning,' he replied, tactfully changing the subject.

‘I guess it doesn't do for us all to be the same, does it?' Jim continued. ‘As they say in Yorkshire, there's nowt as queer as folks!'

The nuance behind his comment, unintended and lost on their father, caused James and Jules to splutter into their champagne.

‘I guess we have to agree to that, Pops,' choked James, as Jules tried to adopt an air of mock indignation.

‘Anyway,' Jim continued, with the slight unease that he was missing something at his own expense. ‘If you two are ready, we ought to go and take our places at the table. Your mother will get cross if we don't.' He drained his flute and placed it on a side-table. His sons followed suit.

‘I'll go and fetch Janice down,' said James, moving in the direction of the stairs.

‘No need, James,' Jules called after him, having entered the dining room to find Janice there, distributing the first course. ‘Are you ok?'
he remarked,
sotto voce,
to his sister-in-law. She nodded briskly in response, glancing towards the door as she did so.

‘You haven't said anything, have you?'

‘No. Not a word.'

She was about to speak again, when James walked in.

‘Ah, Janice, there you are. Do you need any help?'

‘No, I'm fine. You're sitting over there.' She indicated to a seat in the far corner of the table, adjacent to the fireplace, where a log fire was crackling and spitting.

James did as he was bid, squeezing himself into the corner. Jules moved to sit next to him.

‘No, Jules, you are sitting here.' She gestured to the next seat. ‘I've given the men the table legs to contend with.'

As Jules took his allotted seat, James stared around the dining room with a sense of déjà vu. His home as a child had been in Kent, not Devon. However, the room before him now was decorated in a style that transformed it into any one of his earlier Christmases. The same decorations intermingled with horse brasses and other brass ornaments especially polished for the celebration. Strings of fairy lights festooned the walls, being draped across picture frames and then looped up to light fittings from where they swooped down to the windows to circumscribe the frames. The darkness outside caused the glass to be reflective. As a result, the lights transformed the windows into mirrors akin to those found in actors' dressing rooms. They reflected the whole room. The ultimate illusion was that the strings of lights continued into the garden, across the paddock, into the fields beyond and on into eternity. A veritable fairyland.