Read Lamplight in the Shadows Online
Authors: Robert Jaggs-Fowler
At that moment in Valletta, in a small, quiet church in the corner of the square beyond the Street of the Knights, a shaft of sunlight settled on the altar cross in a side chapel dedicated to Saint Publius, Malta's first bishop and saint. Irresistibly drawn towards it, Fr Dominic Caruana knelt, made the sign of the cross on his chest and automatically started to offer intercessory prayers for various members of his congregation. As he did so, an image stirred in his memory, making him pause. When he started to pray again, the words were this time for God to offer His guiding hand to the troubled young man Fr Dominic had met just a few days previously.
In the Rotunda of Mosta, James felt the beat of his heart slow and, sensing an overwhelming feeling of calmness, he fell to his knees in prayer, his face still upturned to the dome. It was a moment of revelation and he knew that he was glimpsing the sense of assuredness that had guided the actions of so many in the past.
If God is light
, he thought,
then the Devil could be playing no part in this powerful charge of love
.
All things come to those who wait.
(16th-Century Proverb)
If the green MGB GT could claim any anthropomorphic traits, it clearly relished the undulating freedom of the A15 to Lincoln. The road, known better to the Romans as the Ermine Street, connected their city of Londinium in the south to that of York in the north, via the city of Lindum in the East, and built with their singular resolve to construct connecting routes in as straight a line as possible.
A sunny, spring day had made the temptation to fold down the soft-top irresistible, which in its turn rendered any attempt at conversation futile when the wind noise combined with that of the engine. As though to compensate for the lack of conversation, James selected a cassette of Tina Turner's
Album of Greatest Hits
and
turned up the volume of the car's speaker system. As the flat Lincolnshire countryside sped by, two more voices joined that of Tina. They grew even louder when she started on the opening bars of her hit song âSimply the Best'.
That song had been a feature of the 1992 surgery Christmas party, just as it had the previous year. It was as though it had become a signature tune for Anna and James' relationship, summoning them both to the dance floor from wherever they happened to be. Their eyes searching through the crowds, they would then proceed to manoeuvre between the gyrating bodies until they were at least in each other's vicinity, if not exactly dancing directly with each other. It was musical magnetism, with a powerfully positive force field.
As he drove, James pondered the series of vaguely connected events that had occurred over the preceding five months since his return from that ill-fated trip to Malta. The Christmas party had been an enjoyable reminiscence in its own way. Songs such as âSimply the Best' recaptured some of the past magic. However, since Malta, the relationship with Anna had cooled and become more detached, more akin to the just-good-friends type of relationship.
Which was ironic, as his relationship with Janice had also commenced a new phase. Whilst they continued to live under the same roof, they conducted their daily lives apart. The Bishopsworth flat, sparse though it was, had become more of a home for James during the week, where he spent long evenings alone with his books and music. Meanwhile, Janice spent most weekends with her family in Shropshire, rendering their house in Barminster more akin to a storage facility for personal belongings than a marital home. On the odd occasions they were both at home together, their relationship was amicable but distant, the infrequent physical contact merely perfunctory in its nature.
In Malta, it had all seemed so clear to James. He was being driven in a different direction to the one he had previously believed to be the correct one; his relationship with Janice was clearly nearing an end; he no longer felt compelled towards ordination, understanding that God had a different form of ministry for him; and sensed that his relationship with Anna might now proceed unhindered. However, once back in England, such clarity of thought had evaporated within weeks, as the various complexities of reality squeezed into the utopian equation.
He changed down through the gears to negotiate the roundabout at Caenby Corner and then relished the throaty roar as the re-opened throttle urged the sports car onwards towards Lincoln. Thinking that it really was a beautiful day, he glanced towards his passenger and smiled; the smile returned and he felt a gentle squeeze of his left thigh. Ahead, the sky remained blue apart from some dark cloud gathering to the west of the city. Confident that they should be in Lincoln before whatever the cloud held presented a problem, he nonetheless pressed the accelerator hard to the floor and marvelled at how, even at the speed he was doing, the MG found that little bit of reserve. Passing the RAF base, he exchanged Tina Turner for Whitney Houston's soundtrack from
The Bodyguard
.
The latter was another theme tune he shared with Anna, although a less self-assured one. Indeed, âI Will Always Love You' had a wistful poignancy about it; a sense of two lovers being pulled apart and of love lost. It was as though their own lives were reflected by a musical prophecy. For, despite the earlier intensity of their relationship, Anna had clearly started to tire of James' inability to resolve the conflicting pulls of conscience and duty within his life. In the meantime, she had commenced the process of tidying her own life, announcing on his return from Malta that she had left Simon the previous weekend and was now living in a spare room at a friend's house. The news had taken James completely by surprise, even though, as Anna had made it abundantly clear to him at the time, it was nothing to do with him. Her marital relationship was over and she needed to make a fresh start with her life, regardless as to whether James was involved or not. However, despite such proclamations, it had been the Royal Family who had given her some unexpected ammunition back in early December.
James slowed as he approached a tractor, judged the approach of an on-coming lorry, and overtook the tractor before resuming his previous cruising speed. Mentally, he flicked back to recollect an unaccustomed look of serious determination on Anna's face as he entered the surgery reception area on the day in question.
âThere⦠if the heir to the throne can do it, so can you!'
Her voice had been at the level of a forced whisper as she smacked that morning's newspaper on the desk in front of James. The sound triggered a few enquiring glances from Sandy and Christine, and James played for time by starting to sign a pile of repeat prescriptions. However, as soon as the other receptionists were distracted by arriving patients, Anna renewed her attack.
âGo on, read it.' She pushed the newspaper towards him, her voice still quiet but forceful. âIf the future head of the Church of England can do it, so can you!'
James had not seen or heard any news in his flat the evening before, devoid as it was of a television. Checking that Sandy and Christine were still otherwise employed, he unfolded the paper, read the headline and then the short opening paragraph beneath:
The Prime Minister, John Major, yesterday announced âBuckingham Palace has made it known that the Prince and Princess of Wales will separate. Their Royal Highnesses are not seeking a divorce. Their position in the constitution remains the same. This decision has been agreed by both parties, the care of the children will continue to be shared by both.'
âNow try and find an excuse not to move on.' Anna had been unrelenting and James was only saved by the timely entrance of Sandra, asking him to see a patient with chest pain in the treatment room.
The MG's 1.8-litre engine positively ate the thirty or so miles from Bishopsworth and it did not seem long after departing before the tower of Lincoln Cathedral came into view. James reduced speed to enter the Lincoln one-way system through an ancient stone arch into Newport Court, made short work of the Bailgate and finally swung into the private car park opposite the White Hart, just before the road became a cobbled, pedestrianised way. The barrier rose before them, allowing their entrance without question. He parked and switched off the engine. Like a horse still frisky after a decent gallop, it gave a short symphonic plinking as it cooled.
âAren't we supposed to be patrons of the White Hart to use their car park?' He turned and grinned.
âI am not sure which is the greater sin: having formerly accepted the barrier tokens when they are offered and one didn't need them or using them on an occasion when one is not patronising the hostelry. Either way, I only feel that it is appropriate to return this token to its rightful owner, that being the hotel, which I shall do by way of the exit barrier when we go home later.' He plucked a brass coin-like object from the otherwise redundant ashtray and smiled.
âSometimes I think your morals are slightly deviant.'
âI'd prefer to call them flexible; it makes me sound less in need of redemption.'
It was strange to hear Anna's voice, having had most of the journey conducted in silence whilst he mentally reminisced about their past. Reaching behind them, he unfastened the folded hood and pulled its concertinaed frame forward until it neatly re-roofed the car.
âYou're being pessimistic, aren't you?'
âI would much rather take a few moments now than sit in puddles of water on the way home.' Having fastened the hood's leading edge to its anchoring clips above the windscreen, he got out, walked round to the passenger side and helped Anna from her seat.
âAlways the gentleman.'
âOnly when there is a beautiful lady present.'
âThat's not true; I've seen you be a gentleman for ugly ones as well.'
âPerhaps I just need to hedge my bets.' He grinned, walked to the rear, retrieved a golf umbrella from the boot, and then locked the car doors.
âYou really do expect rain.'
âMaybe. Those clouds might just pass by, but I'll take this just in case. You know what they say â any fool can be uncomfortable.'
âAnd you're no fool. Well, most of the time you are not. You're a bit rubbishy when it comes to sorting personal relationships.'
âHey, I thought this was just supposed to be a friendly afternoon out, not the start of an inquisition!'
âIt is⦠that is, just a friendly afternoon out.' She smiled, slipped her left arm through his right one and started to walk towards the exit. âCome on, Dr Armstrong; take this lady for a spin around the sights and then somewhere nice for afternoon tea.'
âWith my pleasure, madam.' He leaned sideways and planted a gentle kiss to her left cheek. âFree with every tour⦠but definitely only for the beautiful ladies.' Smiling again, and feeling a lightness he had not known for months, he led Anna out into the Bailgate. âWhere to first, madam? Castle or cathedral?'
âCastle.'
âCastle it is then.'
Turning right and then right again, they started to pick their way across the cobbles of the square between the castle and the cathedral.
* * *
Originally built by William the Conqueror in the 11
th
century, Lincoln's castle had at one time also served as a prison. It now served a strange potpourri of functions, the dominant two being a tourist attraction and the local law courts. Not surprisingly, it had once formed part of the defences for the city, its massive boundary walls giving splendid views across the surrounding countryside from its geographically elevated position. The same walls now served as a pleasant walkway for visitors. Halfway round that walk, Anna paused to absorb the sight of the modern city as it stretched away to the south.
âI love looking at rooftops and old chimneys. They could relate so many stories of times gone by. Look at those tall ones over there⦠and that crooked one⦠it looks as though it might fall over at any moment.' A sharp wind gusted across the battlement and she huddled closer to James for warmth. âIt may be a sunny day, but it's not exactly warm up here!'
âI agree. If you've seen enough, let's go inside and have a look at the old prison and its rather fascinating chapel.'
They retraced their steps down from the ancient stone walkway and found the entrance to the prison at one side of the central block of buildings within the castle walls. Following the signs to the old chapel, they entered through a narrow, heavy oak door, treading carefully on the worn steps. After the brightness of outside it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior, with its rows of dark, high-sided box pews.
âOh, how horrible.' Anna shuddered. âThe seats are like mini-cells.'
âWorse than that. Look.' He led her down into the centre of the chapel, opened a head-high pew door and gestured for her to go inside. She paused, taking in the bare wooden bench-seat, the wooden book-ledge and kneeling stool, all lacking the creature comforts of padded cushioning. Immediately in front of her was another head-high door leading into a similar cubicle.
âThere's only room for one person.'
âAbsolutely. The idea was that the prisoners were isolated from each other, not being able to see the persons to their side, front or rear. Go inside the next one, close the door and sit down. I'll sit in this one.'
She did as he bid, immediately exclaiming as the door closed behind her. âIt's positively ghastly! It makes me think of an upright coffin.'
âWhich is precisely what it was supposed to do; thereby reminding the prisoners of their fate if they didn't repent of their sins. What can you see?'
âNothing. Just the wooden sides of this⦠this⦠box.'
âLook up and beyond.' James sat on the hard bench in his section and spoke to her through the partition door.
âOh, I can see the pulpit and a crucifix.'
âCorrect again. You see, the only person visible to all of the prisoners was the priest in his pulpit. They could each only see him, but from the pulpit he could see them all. For them, he became the figurative route for their salvation from damnation. Quite an effective way of capturing their attention, don't you agree?' There was no response from the next cell. âAnna?'
âStill here.' Her voice had taken on a different, quieter timbre.
âWhat are you thinking?'
âOh, just various questions going round in my mind, but I am not sure that you will know the answers.'
âSuch as? Try me. I have read quite a bit about the place.' There was another short silence.
âSo, is the pulpit still your escape from damnation?'
He grimaced and subconsciously shifted on the bench. âThat's unfair. It is not a question about here! I thought we agreed not to discuss such things today. We were just going to have an afternoon out as good friends, remember?'
âWe did, but I need some answers and there never is a good time to ask you. I need to know where I am going with my life. I need to know whether I have a future role in your life or are we just to remain good friends?'
He rubbed his face with his hands and gazed at the empty pulpit, not knowing how best to respond to this unexpected line of questioning. In the absence of a response, the voice in the next cell spoke again.
âDo you still love her? Janice, I mean.'
James inwardly groaned in response, searching for a way to answer her questions honestly, when he still had not sorted them completely in his own mind. He turned to face the door between their two cells, touching it with his right hand as though imagining her on the other side. âAnna, Iâ¦' His voice faltered, and as it did so, the sound of the chapel door opening and a noisy party of schoolchildren entering saved him. The door between his and Anna's opened and she moved towards him with an ushering gesture. âCome on, this place is depressing; let's get out of here.'
Squeezing through the throng of excited children, they shared a knowing look with a somewhat fraught teacher and made their escape from the noise of laughter and ghostly wails accompanying the banging of pew doors. Re-entering the brightness of the day, Anna again took James' arm.
âI'm sorry about that. I should not have⦠it was unfair of me toâ¦' Her voice trailed off as he placed an index finger on her lips.
âShhh. Forget it. Where shall we go next?'
She paused, her eyes meeting his for a moment. Then, lightly kissing his finger, she nodded towards the opposite side of the square. âCathedral? It seems the obvious choice.'
âCathedral it is then.'
Holding on to his arm with both her hands, they crossed the square in companionable silence, save for the sound of the umbrella's metal tip on the stone flags.
* * *
The inside of Lincoln Cathedral offered a different coolness to that of the prison chapel. For a start, the many stained-glass windows allowed shafts of bright sunlight to illuminate the pale stone of the cathedral's massive columns and roof space. Not surprisingly for an out-of-season weekday afternoon, the place was quiet save for a few Japanese tourists clutching rolled copies of the
Magna Carta
and taking photographs of each other against the backdrop of the ornately carved choir screen.
James and Anna quietly wandered around the nave, taking in its vastness until Anna broke the silence.
âIt's really quite awesome.'
âI couldn't agree more. The Victorian writer and critic John Ruskin thought so too; look hereâ¦' He led her to a small plaque on the wall and waited whilst she quietly read the inscription attributed to Ruskin.
âI have always held and proposed against all comers to maintain that the Cathedral of Lincoln is out and out the most precious piece of architecture in the British Isles.'
She nodded as an affirmative response and looked around her again. âWell, I for one am not about to disagree with him.'
âI think it is the blend of the Norman and Gothic architecture that creates such an impact. There is also a fantastic Baroque and Wren library that is worth a visit sometime.'
âI think I might just take your word on that for the moment.' She smiled and squeezed his hand. âDusty old books are probably more your scene than mine. I will stick to the immediate architecture. When was all of this built?' She gestured around her.
âIt was started just before 1100, by Norman the Conqueror. In Medieval times, the diocese was huge, stretching from the Humber to the Thames. The Bishop's seat was previously in Oxford, but Norman the Conqueror thought that it would be better in Lincoln and this is the result.'
âWell, good for Norman the Conqueror, that is what I say.'
They continued walking as they spoke, entering the chancel, where James bowed to the altar before turning round to absorb the intricate carvings of the dark, polished wood of the choir stalls. Looking upwards, he paused, frowned and then continued speaking.
âThe answer to one of your earlier questions is that I do not really know anymore⦠about the priesthood, that is.' He cast a side-look in Anna's direction and quickly resumed gazing at the ornate ceiling, conscious that she had turned to look at him. âI've asked Michael â that's Michael Ewing, the vicar of St Peter's in Barminster â I've asked him to let the Archdeacon know that I need some breathing space to sort out a few personal issues.' His gaze dropped back to the stalls, flitting around from the choirmaster's lectern, the carvings of the misericords, the organ loft above the chancel screen, and back again to the ceiling. As he did so, he let go of Anna's hand and placed an arm around her shoulders instead. âAnd the answer to your second question is no, I do not love her. I don't think I have for a very long time; if indeed I ever really did in the first place. Sometimes, feelings can be mistaken for love, especially when one is young and inexperienced. Time, maturity and experience teach us the true meaning of such emotions; but sometimes mistakes have already been made by then.'
No name was mentioned, but he knew Anna would guess as to whom he was referring. He hesitated again, watching a verger walk towards the altar, where he proceeded to replace some candles. Swallowing hard, he finally turned to face her, tucking the umbrella under one arm and taking both her hands in his as he did so. She continued to say nothing; her face impassive save for her concentrated gaze; her unblinking eyes holding a thousand unspoken questions. For several minutes they just stood, oblivious to their surroundings and the inquisitive glance of a passing priest. The voice of a cathedral guide leading a small group of tourists finally broke their trance. Anna spoke first, her voice soft and barely audible.
âI think I need that cup of tea you promised me.'
He gave a wry smile and nodded in return. âI know just the place.' Letting go of one hand, he led her out of the chancel, back down into the nave and out of the west door into the Georgian surrounds of the Cathedral Close. Above them, the clock chimed the three-quarter hour. Neither spoke again until they entered a small café on Steep Hill.