Glamorous Powers. Susan Howatch

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СКАЧАТЬ was trained by Alfred at Ruydale,’ I said.

      Edward became deferential. ‘What would you like to do, Father?’

      I did not answer the question directly but said: ‘Is it too much to hope that you’ve got some seasoned oak to spare?’

      He had the oak. It seemed like a sign. With the wood in my arms I moved in exhilaration to the work-bench and embarked on my first carpentry assignment for ten years.

      IV

      ‘I hear you’re making a cross,’ said Francis the next day. ‘Amusing for you. How long will it take?’

      ‘Longer than it should. I’m out of practice.’

      ‘What’s so difficult about making a cross?’ said Francis, deliberately provocative. ‘Can’t you just bang a couple of bits of wood together?’

      ‘No, Father. I have some very beautiful oak and I want to make the cross out of that one piece, taking every chance to display the grain of the wood to its best advantage.’

      ‘Well, I suppose that’s all very soothing for your equilibrium-maybe I should take up carpentry myself. I’ve got a novice hearing voices, a visiting bishop who’s in a muddle about pacifism, four young shirkers who swear they’re called to be monks, Harrods trying to sell me something called a radiogram instead of a modest wireless, twenty unanswered letters requesting advice on topics ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous – oh, and I nearly forgot! An abbot whose psychic powers are running riot! When you return to your cell, Jonathan, go down on your knees and thank God you were spared the ordeal of being Abbot-General.’

      ‘Yes, Father.’

      ‘Very well, go away, I’m too busy to bother with you at the moment. I’ll send for you in a day or two.’

      Exerting an iron will to control my temper I retired once more to the workshop.

      V

      ‘I hear you’ve finished the cross, Jonathan. Of course it’s a replica of the cross you saw in your vision, so I suppose all you now have to do is build the chapel, isn’t it? Then I can shine a torch through the north window and you can claim a miracle.’

      ‘That’s right, Father. But before I build the chapel I was hoping we could resume our talks.’

      ‘Getting impatient? Patience is in many ways the most difficult of all virtues, Jonathan, and one which I feel it would pay you to cultivate.’

      ‘Yes, Father.’

      ‘Perhaps you might have another vision while you wait. It would pass the time.’

      ‘Yes, Father.’

      ‘Jonathan, doesn’t it occur to you that this humourless docility is the height of veiled insolence? I detest it – the least you could do to placate me would be to smile at my witty remarks!’

      ‘What witty remarks, Father?’

      ‘Very funny. All right, get out. The Lord Abbot-General is quite definitely not amused.’

      VI

      ‘Curiosity stirred in my mind this morning, Jonathan, and it occurred to me to wonder what you’ve been doing since we last met four days ago. Any more enthralling psychic dramas?’

      ‘No, Father. I’ve been helping Edward to make an altar-table.’

      ‘Maybe I can solve your entire problem by ordering you to remain here as a carpenter. Obviously the strain of being an abbot sent you off your head.’

      ‘Naturally I shall obey any order you care to give me, Father.’

      Francis made a noise which sounded like ‘Arrrgh!’ and slumped back in his chair. ‘Very well, Jonathan, let’s have a truce. Sit down.’

      Once more we sat facing each other across his desk. I was beginning to feel tense again although the relaxation provided by the carpentry had strengthened me mentally, just as Francis had no doubt intended; a nervous collapse would only have made the task of discernment more protracted. Perhaps he had also intended to strengthen me mentally by severing me from the outside world; I had received no invitation to ‘listen in’ to the wireless which had finally been acquired to give him immediate news of the continuing crisis, and I had been granted no access to The Times. However fortunately for my sanity the monastic grapevine was active. The postman and the milkman were clay in the hands of the doorkeeper, who with impressive journalistic skill jotted down a few pertinent sentences and delivered the scrap to the kitchens. It usually reached the workshop shortly before the office at noon.

      ‘I’ve reached the conclusion that we must make a completely different approach to this problem of yours,’ Francis was saying. ‘As things stand we’re now firmly entrenched behind fixed positions and no further progress is possible, so we must abandon our survey of the recent past, I think, and turn to the more distant past in our quest for enlightenment.’

      Dutifully I said: ‘Yes, Father,’ and assumed an interested expression.

      ‘What I now want to do,’ pursued Francis, changing the nib of his pen, ‘is to compare your new alleged call to leave the Order with your old call to enter it and uncover the common denominators.’

      I was sufficiently startled to exclaim: ‘But there aren’t any!’ However I added at once: ‘I’m sorry. That’s not a helpful attitude and I must do my best to be more constructive.’

      Francis said after an eloquent pause: ‘Thank you, Jonathan.’ Throwing the old nib in the wastepaper basket he dipped his pen in the ink and wrote at the top of a new page of foolscap: ‘THE CALL TO BE A MONK’. Then he undid the ribbon which bound my file and opened the folder to reveal the earliest entry.

      ‘The first point of interest about your original call,’ he said, ‘is that it’s poorly recorded, but I suspect I know why. You were accepted as a postulant by your predecessor in the Abbot’s chair at Grantchester, and we all know now that dear old James Reid, God rest him, was so soft-hearted that he welcomed into the Order almost anyone who knocked on his door. I’d wager your call was never comprehensively investigated. In the end that didn’t matter, since your call was genuine, but no doubt when you quickly became so disruptive poor James thought he’d made a disastrous mistake.’

      I felt obliged to say: ‘He did stand by me – even when I came to blows with the Master of Novices James resisted the demands that I should be thrown out. When he called in Father Darcy it wasn’t because he wanted to get rid of me but because he thought the poltergeist activity demanded a first-class exorcist.’

      ‘How Father Darcy must have enjoyed himself! But as soon as he met you, he knew James was right about your potential, didn’t he? So he didn’t investigate your call in detail either. He was much too busy shaping your future to waste time burrowing into your past.’ Francis picked up a page from the file and added: ‘Let me read you part of James’ opinion recorded after his preliminary interview with you in 1923 when you were still outside the Order. He writes:

      ‘“Jon tells me that СКАЧАТЬ