Alice surveyed herself and
liked what she saw. Big, buxom, brunette
and, despite the stomp of time could move in all the right places. She winked back at her reflection, dark brown
eyes twinkled closed and open, red mouth turned up in a half smile. Watching herself in the full-length mirror
Alice drifted away, her self-admiration complete. The sudden jarring noise of the doorbell made
her start and almost lose her footing.
Her expression in the mirror had momentarily lost its confident pose and
folded back somewhat – revealing? Well
she wouldn’t be dwelling on that, no not Alice.
The mirror had been there
when she moved into her smart little town house. At the top of the stairs taking you into her
living area but awkwardly placed so that you had to stand at a certain angle to
see yourself full length, as she had just now, but you were nearly on the top
stair before you knew it. More of a Fen
Shui arrangement than any practical one as it caught all the light from the
front door which was half glass, and as Alice could see in the mirror had a
tall figure standing there.
She turned carefully,
descended slowly, and shouted ‘Who is it?’ before she reached the small hall
way at the bottom of the stairs. Alice
was not beyond keeping this someone on the other side of the door and why on
earth this time she opened the door, well who knows indeed why we do the exact
opposite to what we had in mind? Alice
was renowned for her stubborn decision-making, her intractable decisions that
must not be unmade, changed, renegotiated, at any cost. She was not hard our Alice, but cold. Marble-cold. Smooth, beautiful if somewhat grand and overblown,
and could be, might be – plain deadly.
But her visitor was not to
know any of this and smiling down at her questioning face introduced himself
with a smile that would warm the lonely spirits of his congregation but was
wasting itself here.
‘Father Merry!’ he exclaimed
reaching out for her hand and not finding it simply clasped it with his
other. ‘Thought I would pop round and
say hello! And of course invite you to worship – all welcome at the parish of
St Mary’s. I know the lady who comes and
cleans for you? Jean isn’t it – well she
happened to mention you the other day and I thought I must go round and ……….
‘Father Merry stopped talking right there and then as he found the door and
Alice were trying to move away and close – what was that dreadful word that
everyone used now. She was not engaging,
that was it. And why was she whispering
to him?
Now usually, in this
situation, Father Merry was patience stretched to infinity, an angel
transported to earth to do God’s Will, a missionary who would not fail in
getting the Word across to the poor mortals of his parish. But today, well, even angels need earthly
support and Father Merry was feeling offish.
He had been challenged on a point of faith by one of his extremely
faithful parishioners and although he had cheerfully steered the argument to
its rightful conclusion (the da Vinci code had a lot to answer for) it had
confronted him with the doubts that accompany any decent attempt at faith. Now it seemed he must make another leap of
faith towards a closing door and a whispering woman.
‘Perhaps you would like to
call in to our coffee morning and craft stall event? I do appreciate you may be a busy woman and
of course the time of year – Christmas nearly upon us……’ Well I can’t do more than that thought Father
Merry as he posted one of the Church leaflets through the rather snappy
letterbox. He said a small prayer for
the Postman and gave the entire door a mean look. Not his day, no. Father Merry fought hard against this kind of
negative thinking.
‘Thanks for your time then
and you take care!’ he spoke loudly and thought he saw a dark shadow through
the glass area at the top of the door.
Well if Alice was still there she wasn’t making any sound at all. Funny though, thought Father Merry, I didn’t hear
anything after she closed the door.
Before this train of thought could take hold and have him following it
up – he was stubborn too - a friendly shout made him change direction.
It was Jean, one of his
favourite parishioners and closer to his heart than he wanted to admit. When she smiled at him he felt alive and glad
to be in the world. The cold he had been
feeling in the doorway closed to him, went.
Jean had seen Father Merry
from some way off – in the same way she added something to his day and gave it
meaning, it was likewise for her. She
could have picked out his figure from a crowd and she wasn’t given to noticing
people. Ask her for a rundown of her
fellow worshippers for instance and you’d be waiting a long time. The times she had seemingly ignored
neighbours and friends simply not seeing them waving at her or shouting
hallo. This was different. Love she had discovered had a sight of its
own, and whether it was the way he turned his head, at an angle it ducked down
and to the side and didn’t seem to stay upright for long. Try as she might she could not pin this
movement down except that it pierced her to the heart she thought could never
feel anything again.
‘Well now’ smiled Father
Merry, ‘I was just trying to contact Ms Snood, but –‘and here he paused to
laugh at himself and his religious efforts ‘I think I’ve been snubbed!’
‘I did warn you Father, she
rarely answers the door and I know how you like a challenge, but she really is
strange. I’ve been going in and cleaning
for Alice Snood for over 6 months, you know ever since, - ever since….Oh dear I
can’t……..’
‘Please, it’s alright Jean,’
Father Merry reached out and touched her arm which Jean didn’t draw away
from. She drew strength from him and his
Church and clung to it. Her bereavement,
her loss, her yawning chasm, abyss, no, her life it was that had ended that day
– to talk of it seemed ridiculous. To
even try and get a hold of the huge thing that swallowed her up when her
husband died, it could not be done. And
so, this little cleaning job had been like some sort of raft, steering her away
from the grief. The Church was her
island that she could go out to the world from and hide in. Father Merry knowing this, and never using
it, gave his time and church willingly to this need. Perhaps his faith was better seated than his
doubts led him to believe.
‘Now you are coming back
with me Jean and I will not hear anything different! I have a puzzle I need help to solve and you
are the one to do it.’ Father Merry’s needs asserted themselves now and he took
Jean’s arm turning them away from the town house where Alice remained, also
hidden, and clinging to a raft of her own.
‘I am trying to write a
small history of the Old Town of Hull and have come across some ghosts! It seems there was a murder and a haunting
but blow me if I can’t find out when and where.
What do you think?’
‘I think you should try
looking in the High Street where we’ve just been. In fact try Alice Snood’s house! No I didn’t mean that really’ Jean had now
returned to feeling alright and was laughing up at Father Merry. He was tall and perhaps that was why he
ducked his head down like that – anyway his eyes caught hers, and they shone
blue green right at her. She smiled
back, hazel eyes that were pure gold in the sun. Their crossing time completed in a shared
look, as Love not unlike the God that Father Merry worshipped, triumphed as
free to roam and settle where it would.
And if the hearts it settled on and in were closed, or otherwise
engaged, then this Love would get in there anyway. Somewhat resigned to this Father Merry at
least trusted in God to keep him safe.
Jean just trusted Father Merry.
Together they moved off down
the cobblestones of the High Street towards the Church of St Mary’s. Jean spared one last thought for Alice Snood,
and this because it was Christmas coming and even people like her deserved some
hope. Her meanness however took some
beating, and she was well known for her bullying ways at work. Even her family stayed away. Yes, Alice had fairly well used up all her
goodwill. She was cold, her home was
colder and it would take some love to cut through the marble stone that did for
her beating heart.
It was the week that
followed Christmas that became a crossing time for Alice. She had as usual enjoyed the season, staying
at home and really eating, drinking and sprawling around as she liked. Her sister Elizabeth had attempted to come
round but it was half hearted and anyway she was dealing with a messed up
relationship and this demanded all her attention not some of it. They were not close.
Alice had never been that
kind of a sister, but one for pushing Elizabeth to one side either physically
or mentally. Any chance to undermine her
little sister was taken, a well-worn habit, a nastiness that grew bigger over
the years. The only one to challenge
this, their father, had died suddenly last New Year. Alice chose to ignore his death and carried
on as if he was just on the other end of a phone, or a day away from her
letter. Just somewhere else.
For Elizabeth, his death was
her death. Stumbling through the days
and realising it was nearly a year since that dreadful phone call, she could
hardly bear what Alice denied and denied.
Swigging down another glass
of red wine, Alice put the TV on mute and thought about tucking into the
Chocolate log. Christmas past and New
Year’s Eve with all its revelry, well Alice couldn’t be bothered. She had thought about a party but laziness
and pleasuring herself had taken over.
For some reason she remembered
Father Merry at the door and the weird moment when she had actually opened the
door. What would she have said she
wondered to herself? And like a dream,
the words came out in a tiny whisper.
But really she hadn’t meant to say a word. She remembered closing the door but not much
else.
No matter, it was her house,
her hiding place. ‘Cold though tonight,
I must turn the heating up’ and Alice finally got up from the settee to do
this. The phone was ringing, oh what a
bore thought Alice, someone ringing up because it’s New Year’s Eve.
At home in the little annexe
to the Church, Father Merry was on the phone.
Since the day they had (engaged?) met in the High Street, they spoke
daily and met when they could. It was
the start of a friendship that would strengthen his love of God and give Jean
back her beating heart, but just now neither of them knew this, just that it
was a good thing. They spoke of this and
that and then, Father Merry announced his ‘find’. He had finally found the reference to the
murder, not far from the Church, and probably on the site of Alice Snood’s
smart little townhouse. ‘And yes Jean I
know! How exciting!
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,
‘Jean paused to think back over her uncomfortable moments in that house. ‘For a
start I always felt cold, especially in the hallway – and I’ve just thought of
it now, but the mirror at the top of the stairs – I once thought I saw someone
in it – you know like a shadow of a – of an old man it was’.
They spoke some more and
agreed that they would both visit Alice in the morning, wish her a Happy New
Year, and investigate. Jean had already
decided to end the cleaning job with her, this being her resolution. She had enjoyed the holiday from it and had
used the time to evaluate. She
remembered her last visit to clean for Alice.
The tenner under the clock. No
card or note to wish her a happy Christmas.
The bottle of bleach she tipped down the toilet hoping the smell would
vanquish the other smell. A sort of
damp, slightly rotten smell. Lastly,
Jean remembered the stairs and the hallway.
It was here that she felt the need to get out as fast as she could. An irrational fear, there was nothing to see. So, Jean’s resolution was set.
Father Merry would not say
what his was. He wished her a good night
and sat in the darkness preparing to pray.
The dark and the quiet enfolded him.
The crossing time of one year to the next moved closer.
Alice too had gone to the
phone. It had rung and rung whilst she
was adjusting the thermostat and whoever it was, wasn’t giving up easily. She never did find out who it was
though. Pausing by the mirror at the
top of the stairs, for this small landing housed the phone too, she again saw
the shadow glance across the mirror. Her
father had stood here just before she pushed him down the stairs. Before he fell, fell properly, bouncing round
and over and cracking his skull open on the bottom stair, he had caught sight
of his oldest daughter in the mirror.
His last words, and Alice knew what they were only too well because she
had knelt down close to hear them, were ‘’help me’.
‘Oh shut up Dad’ said
Alice. It was unfortunate then that he
did not. She knew it had been him
opening the door that day and him making her speak. He was here now, waiting.
Elizabeth, on the other end
of a phone that just rang and rang, shivered as a cold draught rushed at her
and overhead, rocking the paper shade and swinging the lightbulb. Rather like her soul had lifted out of her in
some protest. She gave up ringing in
the end. I’ll tell Alice about my dream
another time she thought and went to write it down instead. Although she didn’t think she’d forget seeing
her father push Alice down the stairs – for some reason this had made here feel
better not sad at all. Perhaps I’m
moving on she thought. Her crossing time
begun.
Alice lay and watched and
listened. The phone stopped and in any
case could not be answered now. All she
could do was watch the slow tread of her father coming down the stairs to the
small hallway where she lay wedged against the door. ‘Help me’ she whispered.
‘I’m coming’ he replied.
The End
Wonka looked over at
me. ‘I liked it all barring the soppy
bits’ he declared. I thought I’d done
alright considering I’d updated it especially for New Year’s Eve. It had been written a long time ago, and was
just lying around on the computer waiting to be told. I’d always had a fascination for haunted
Hull and had my own ghostly experience there to tell of. ‘Do you think,’ I wondered aloud to Wonka,
‘that we shall ever tell a story to rival the famous ones?’ Of course I was referring to our hero Mr
Charles Dickens who could hardly have known at the time, how his Christmas
Carol would continue on down all the years.
‘What like a New Year’s Eve
Carol?’ Wonka gave me a hard look.
‘Just something to remember
us by then…’ I had called the story ‘The
Crossing Time’ as this was the theme.
If Mr Dickens were here now, he might call it…………
‘He might call it a bit of
an alright story thank you very much!
Wonka Presents!’ and I suppose Wonka was right, barring the soppy
bits…..at least he let me tell it.
‘Did you get the digestion
tablets and the dental floss?’ was Wonka’s parting shot before bed. Oh yes!
I had even broken out and bought a new hot water bottle.
Settling down with a sherry,
and him with his new luxury anti everything biscuits, I watched the old year
move towards the new one. It could be
our best year yet.
Happy New Year to each and every
one!!
