Chapter 32

Jack’s Small Voice Of Calm

 

 

Hal had courteously left her at the door and gone to talk to Skye, to Cass’s immense disappointment; she had secretly hoped for more. Now she ran herself a bath to wash away the taste of the sea and the sand from her hair, and to soothe her sore, aching limbs. Even climbing into the warm, scented bath water took some doing, the feel of the water against her skin making her flinch, the horror of that moment when she had let Anna go in the sea rushing into her mind again with the first touch of the water. She made herself focus instead on the moment when she had felt Hal pull her out.

Hal. He had been the only one who would ever understand. Since that night in the beach hut, she felt she knew his heart and it was like hers; their deep-seated fears that they were not worthy, that they had failed when it mattered the most. Their lives were so different, and yet underneath all the differences in their upbringings, their histories, their beliefs, they were alike. They had failed someone they loved, he had failed Rob, she had failed her parents and now she had failed Anna too.

He had sought his absolution is the arms of women, she had sought it in the heart of God and neither of them had found it. Now they had been tested again and he had passed the test and she had failed it, pulling them apart, taking away the one thing they had in common. She had let Anna go and Hal had saved them both; he had redeemed himself, he had gone into the water and emerged saved and reborn and she was lost forever. No faith, no hope, no love. Nothing. She had failed at everything; daughter, vicar, friend ... and lover. She had wanted Hal so much that she would have compromised her beliefs; she would have broken her lifelong commitment to celibacy to sleep with him just once, to help him, to give him the comfort that she knew he craved and she wanted to give him - but it seemed that he didn’t want her. She couldn’t even do that for him.  It seemed that he would never see her as anything other than a vicar after all … curse this bloody dog collar!

And then, after everything that had happened today, he had left her at her front door tonight when she was sure that they were finally going to be able to talk to each other, to get everything out in the open between them.

It had all been for nothing after all. She had failed at everything each time she was needed most.

She was so tired and sore, she could do nothing right now but drag herself into bed and sleep, hoping that it would all seem different in the morning.

 

She woke to a world transformed. The heavy clouds that had gathered over the village last night had opened, snow had fallen, and continued to fall from a bruised grey sky, now it was no longer too cold for snow, two days too late for a white Christmas. Old Rawscar looked at its most picturesque, like a Christmas card with white roofs and streets but the heaving grey mass of the sea was still there, untouched by the snow.

She had to get up for Morning Prayer, which was at St. Stephen’s in Old Rawscar this morning, where nobody would come and she would speak empty words to an empty church. First Sunday after Christmas – everybody would have had enough of church for a while - she’d be lucky to have more than a handful of regulars at eleven o’clock communion, let alone the eight o’clock service. She dragged herself into some clothes, the first she found in the cupboard. She didn’t brush her hair, it seemed pointless. She pulled on an old jumper over her clerical blacks, her shoes were still soaking so she put on the old pair of wellies that June had given her. Then she climbed the hill to the little old church in the whirling snow that blanketed the village and hid the sea from sight below her as easily as the fog did for the rest of the year.

The little old church was freezing and the heavy oak door banged shut behind her; it seemed colder inside the building than out of it, the stone itself radiating the cold. Her breath smoked on the air and the light was so dim that even when she lit the altar candles she could hardly see to the other end of the church when she stood by the altar. The quiet of the ancient church, which usually enfolded her in peace, today felt as if it was pressing down on her. Her cold fingers found the place in the Common Worship book and for a long moment she stared at it with unseeing eyes. What was the point? What was the point of any of this?

She was about to slam the book shut and leave the church when the door creaked open. Why would Graham pick today of all days to come to church?

But it wasn’t Graham. It was Jack Thorburn.

‘Jack!’ she said, surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Thought maybe I’d just come and keep you company,’ he said simply, walking down the aisle towards her. ‘After yesterday, thought I’d just … you know.’

‘I understand. Yesterday must have been hard for you too. Seeing Hal go into the sea.’

‘Ay. I thought a bit of peace and quiet. I like it here. Hadn’t been for years, I’d forgotten how peaceful it is. It’s strange, even though it’s got nowt to do with us, I feel closer to Rob up here. It’s a good place to remember people who’ve gone, isn’t it? And I thought you might want a bit of support, like.’

‘I’m fine!’ Cass protested.

‘No, you’re not, Vicar. I know what fine looks like, and you’ve not got that look about you. You might fool Graham and Charles but you don’t fool me. You’ve not looked fine for a while now, but you certainly didn’t look fine last night. So I thought … well, I’m here now. You do your bit, and I’ll sit here and enjoy the peace and quiet.’

‘Look, Jack, if you don’t want me to read the service, if you want to … share a moment’s peace, or even just talk …’

‘You don’t want to do it, do you?’ His eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, were deadly serious and looking straight at her. It was disconcerting.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘You don’t want to say the prayers, do you?’

She thought about denying it and going ahead with the service, but she found she couldn’t do it.

‘I don’t, Jack. Do you mind?’

‘I don’t mind. I knew there was summat up, I thought it might be something our Hal had done, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?’

Cass nodded dumbly.

‘Come on then, Vicar, let’s sit down. Here, you sit down by me.’ He sat on the front pew and motioned for her to sit beside him, which she did. ‘Now, don’t you fret, it’ll all blow over in a few days. You must be exhausted after yesterday; you should take yourself home and go back to bed. Give yourself a day off. Have a rest.’

‘That’s not going to solve anything.’

‘Well, you tell me Vicar, tell me what the problem is that you need solving.’

She looked at him. He should be the last person she would choose to confide in, given the way he usually teased her, but somehow today she knew she was seeing a side to Jack Thorburn that she hadn’t known was there – and that she might not ever see again.

‘Jack, I don’t believe in God any more,’ she said at last, unable to look at him. ‘The one thing I’ve always had; the only truth of my life - and it’s gone.’

For a moment he was silent, looking at the clear glass window behind the altar where the snow whirled up against the glass every now and then.

‘Well, Vicar, shall I tell you something?’

‘Go on then.’

She sat on her hands to try and keep some warmth in them.

‘When Rob died, that old vicar, Gideon Steele, he said I should accept it. That I should be glad that our Rob had laid down his life to save others, that he had been “fulfilling the will of God” and I should be glad. Well, I couldn’t be glad. And I couldn’t forgive God for taking him. I was so angry. I did believe in God – not the kind of church God that you have here … but something. Something else beyond what’s in this life. But when Gideon said that, then I hated him – God, that is – and I thought, if this is what God is, then I don’t want to believe it any more. I hated Gideon and everything he stood for after that.’

‘It was a stupid, hurtful thing to say to a grieving family,’ Cass said. ‘Is that why you didn’t like me when we first met? Because I stood for the same things as Gideon?’

‘Ay. Only worse ‘cos you were an incomer and all that too. I am sorry about that, Vicar. Makes me no better than him, doesn’t it? Saying stuff that hurts people. Only he did it because he was a fool and I did it because I was a contrary old bastard, so it probably makes me worse. I’m sorry, Vicar. You’re all right when push comes to shove, you’re a decent woman.’ He held out a hand in apology and she shook it gratefully.

‘It’s nice of you to say so, Jack. And it’s not surprising that you found it hard to believe after what happened to Rob, even without Gideon Steele to interfere.’

‘I thought God was in the wind that had blown them tourists out to sea. I thought God was in the waves; God was in all them forces that had destroyed our Rob. Like your house in the storm, that God had done that, that God had sent the storm. But yesterday, something changed.’ He was speaking slowly and carefully, almost as if he was articulating his thoughts as they formed.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t see God in the sea. I saw God in the hearts of the people who helped – you and our Hal, and them doctors, and Kieran and Jon from the lifeboat, all them folks, locals and incomers the same. I saw God change something in Charles’ heart too, and in our Hal’s. I think he’s finally forgiven himself for what happened to Rob after all these years. He blamed himself you know, for not getting there in time. He’s never said owt to me, but I know he did. It’s why he couldn’t settle all those years.’

Cass nodded, not saying a word, not daring to admit that Hal had told her what he hadn’t been able to tell his own father. That he had chosen to confide the deepest secrets of his heart to her …

‘So maybe, I thought, after all, there is something in this God business. Maybe there is something a bit more than this life. Like that hymn we used to sing at school – about the small voice of calm. How God wasn’t in the storm but in the voice afterwards, that’s what I thought. That’s why I came here today.’

Cass found herself laughing, a strange, hollow laugh that seemed to come from somewhere new inside her.

‘So, you’ve come here to teach me about faith?’ she laughed. ‘Oh Jack!’

‘I know,’ he said, joining in her laughter. ‘Daft, isn’t it? But all I’m saying … it’s changed for me. I felt something yesterday that I haven’t felt for a long time. Give it time, Vicar, and things’ll fall back into place.’ He reached over and took her hands between his. ‘You just hang on in there. You’re a decent woman, and I’m sorry I ever gave you such a hard time. You should be proud of what you did yesterday – made me think of them women who launched the lifeboat in the storm, that’s what you were like yesterday. One of our own, Vicar.’

She was touched. “One of our own” he had said. That meant more to her than anything else he could have said to her.

‘Thanks, Jack,’ she said.

‘Now, are you going to come back down to the village? You don’t want to get yourself frozen through again, not after yesterday!’

‘Do you know, Jack, I think I’d like to try and pray. Would you mind?’

‘No, lass, I don’t mind. You stay up here and say your prayers for a bit. I’ll leave you to it.’

When he had gone and the door shut behind him, she waited in the dim light of the church. She did try. She thought about everything Jack had said, and got down on her knees before the altar rail and tried to pray, but everything around her seemed to distract her. The scutter of the snowflakes against the window, the pulse of the sea in the bay was all she could hear, and she felt nothing.

‘I’m trying, Lord, I’m trying! Why won’t you hear me?’ she said, as if articulating her silent prayer aloud would make it real. Still only the distant noise of the sea, and a gull wailing above the church, as if God was up there laughing at her. All the hurt that had been building up in her for the last few weeks, that she had been trying so hard to deny, began to build up in her at the sound of that imagined laughter. Anna, who she hadn’t been able to help, Hal who she hadn’t been able to love, no home, no family, no vocation. She had got it all so wrong, and now she was alone with her failure.

‘Come on then, God! Tell me what to do! Show me!’ she yelled, standing up in front of the altar, slamming her hands down on it hard as if she could wake God from a sleep.  Tears were running down her face, her breath coming in huge sobs. ‘Give me a sign! Where are you? Where the FUCK ARE YOU?’

‘I’m here, Cass,’ said a voice quietly behind her.