Absolute Truths. Susan Howatch

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СКАЧАТЬ than men. Of course I was wrong to say they can never understand it, and I apologise unreservedly to Miss Drew for that, but men and women are complementary, not identical – equal before God but nonetheless dissimilar – and it’s a liberal delusion to assume otherwise.’

      ‘Okay, fine,’ said Sunbeam brightly. ‘Why don’t you exercise your complementary masculine powers by explaining the graphs to Miss Drew? I’m sure we’d all welcome a shaft of enlightenment from our chairman.’

      Very fortunately I had heeded Roger’s warning about the graphs and had managed to work out on the train a way of dismissing them when the subject of A-level statistics was under discussion.

      ‘To avoid controversy,’ I said at once, ‘and to ensure this meeting doesn’t last longer than the allotted time, why don’t we pass over the graphs altogether and turn to the statistics on page …’ I somehow succeeded in extricating myself from this tight corner, and the meeting ground on until I had the majority of the committee on my side at a quarter past four. After taking care to say a tender goodbye to the offended Miss Drew I retired with relief to the lavatory but faltered at the sight of Sunbeam at the urinal.

      ‘You know, Charles,’ he said with an unexpected seriousness, ‘as a brother-bishop who wishes you well, I think you should ask yourself why you’re so keen to cling to these absolute truths of yours which keep you in such a conservative straitjacket. Personally I feel liberated by the modern view that everything’s relative and that there are no absolutes any more – but could it be that for some reason you find the idea of such liberation threatening?’

      ‘My dear Leslie, liberals like you can be as dogmatic as any conservative, and since relativism is simply an ideology like any other, maybe you should ask yourself why you’re treating it as one of the absolute truths you profess to despise! Why do you feel driven to rebel against order by embracing chaos?’

      ‘Good point!’ said Sunbeam cheerily. ‘You answer my question and I’ll try to answer yours!’

      ‘Obviously we must call this skirmish a draw,’ I said, satisfied that I had won it by pointing out to him that intellectually he was behaving like an adolescent. ‘By the way, before I rush off I must just ask you this: what can you tell me about a priest from your diocese called Lewis Hall?’

      ‘Hall,’ mused Sunbeam, adjusting his ill-cut, off-the-peg suit. (Naturally he refused to wear the traditional uniform.) ‘Hall, Hall – oh, Hall! Yes, he’s left the Radbury diocese now, much to my relief- he’s one of those embarrassing types who fancy exorcism. Apparently my predecessor Derek Preston gave him a bit of leeway but when I let it be known that I wasn’t standing for any of that kind of hanky-panky, Hall realised he had to seek fresh woods and pastures new … Don’t tell me he’s wound up in Starbridge!’

      ‘“Passing through” will probably be the final description of his activities. Was there any scandal attached to him?’

      ‘Isn’t any modern clergyman who dabbles in exorcism a scandal of unenlightenment?’

      ‘No, I meant –’

      ‘Oh, I know what you meant! No, Charles, he’s not a homosexual, and if he does run around with women on the quiet he takes care not to commit the ultimate sin of being found out. Did he tell you he was divorced?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘In that case I’m surprised you’re sufficiently interested to ask me about him – although in my opinion the Church should welcome a divorced clergyman even if he was the guilty party and even if he’s remarried. We should welcome homosexuals more warmly too. I mean, are we Christians or aren’t we? Shouldn’t one love and accept people instead of persecuting and condemning them?’

      I said: ‘Of course we must love people no matter what they’ve done, but we mustn’t forget that love should include justice for those who have been wronged by the sins of others – you can’t just pretend that sin doesn’t matter! Sin hurts people, sin destroys lives – haven’t you yourself ever suffered as the result of the wrong acts of others?’

      Leslie Sunderland carefully finished drying his hands on the towel. Then he turned to face me and said: ‘Yes. But I’ve forgiven them.’

      In the silence that followed I had the odd impression that someone was listening to us, but when I turned to look at the closed door there was no one there.

      ‘Well, never mind!’ said Sunbeam, casting aside his moment of extreme sobriety and becoming cheery again. ‘Someone on the bishops’ bench has to worry about sex, I suppose, but thank goodness it isn’t me because I’d rather worry about the Bomb and South Africa and the starving millions in India. So no hard feelings, old fellow – God bless …’ And he pattered off in his cheap slip-on shoes in order to be radically liberal elsewhere.

      Having changed swiftly back into my Savile Row suit, I left Church House and took a taxi to Fortnum’s to meet Charley.

      VI

      I was late when I reached the restaurant but there was no sign of him waiting to greet me. Wondering what had delayed him, I sat down at a table.

      Charley’s church, St Mary’s Mayfair, had been the centre of a rich, plush parish before the war, but now it stood in an area where many of the grand houses had been converted to commercial use with the result that the vicar’s ministry was mainly to the tourists, hotel staff and office-workers who swarmed daily through the neighbourhood. Charley was the curate. He had tried working in the East End of London but had disliked it, so when my friend the Earl of Starmouth mentioned to me one day in the House of Lords that there was a vacancy for a curate in his local parish I had encouraged Charley to apply for the job. After all, one can hardly get further from the East End than Mayfair.

      Charley had quickly settled down. His aptitude for languages had proved useful with the tourists and hotel staff. His youth and energy had attracted the office-workers. His theologically conservative outlook had proved popular with the vicar and the few remaining aristocratic parishioners. Soon I had told myself that I no longer needed to worry about his career – and yet I had continued to worry, and I worried still. This was because although it was obvious to me that Charley had great gifts as a priest, he showed no sign of developing a mature personality which would enable him to use those gifts to the full.

      He was now heading for his twenty-seventh birthday, but his lack of control over his volatile temperament still suggested an adolescent secretly ill-at-ease with himself. All too often he was high-handed, didactic and tactless. Strong on oratorical fireworks and teaching the faith, he was weak on empathising with others and far too rigid in his theological views – but of course the ability to empathise with others and to be a flexible thinker without compromising one’s integrity are the fruits of maturity. Too often Charley seemed to me more like sixteen than twenty-six.

      When I had expressed my worry to Jon he had pointed out that some men take longer to mature than others, but I had begun to think that in Charley’s case the delay was abnormal. After all, I reminded myself, he had done two years of National Service and spent three years as an undergraduate; he had been out and about in the world for some time, so what was now holding him back? But although I often asked myself this question I found I never arrived at a satisfactory answer.

      For a moment I recalled this mystery when Charley erupted into Fortnum’s that afternoon and hurried over to the table where I was waiting for him; slim and small, he looked so much younger than his years. I cheered myself with the reflection that СКАЧАТЬ