Read Lamplight in the Shadows Online
Authors: Robert Jaggs-Fowler
Lamplight in the Shadows (6 page)
Just as his choice of pew had been automatic, so had his decision to enter the church after finishing the many home visits assigned to him earlier that day. The need for peace and tranquillity made the church the ideal sanctuary from the world outside. Here his body could rest whilst his mind sorted through the various items waiting for attention in his mental in-tray.
The possibility of a partnership in Bishopsworth had not previously crossed his mind. Before today, no mention was made regarding the idea of expanding the practice and it had been a tacit assumption that Dr Hawkins would one day be well enough to return to full-time work. Besides, the practice was in Lincolnshire rather than North Yorkshire. Why then had he felt so able to express an interest in joining the partnership when Dr McGarva put the question to him that morning?
He looked up at the Great Rood, a large crucifix suspended above the aisle at the juncture of the nave and chancel.
âIs this all part of your grand plan?' he asked aloud of the suspended figure of Christ.
He had previously experienced sudden changes of events at various stages of his life; involuntary diversions from the path he thought he was supposed to be treading. At each stage, the changes had temporarily produced a sense of wariness and concern as the unfamiliar landmarks unfolded. However, as the revised journey proceeded, he had each time become reassured that the new course was a preferable one to that previously set. It was as though fate, taken as a euphemism for the hand of God, was re-adjusting his actions to keep him on a preordained course.
He tried to consider the matter objectively. On the positive side, it was a practice of good standing, being well respected within the local community and, so it seemed, amongst other practices in the nearby towns. Bishopsworth had much to offer as an old market town and would no doubt prove to be an agreeable place to settle. Travel to all parts of the country was facilitated by the town's proximity to the major road network. He would even be able to pursue, finally, the course in theology at Hull University. On the negative side, it wasn't North Yorkshire, but the North York Moors were only an hour's drive away and the Yorkshire Dales little more than that.
Having settled his thoughts in respect to the new possibility before him, his mind then turned back to the curious incident in the reception area that occurred just before he left for his visits that morning. Had he simply imagined it or had there been something implicit in Anna's fleeting touch?
Surely not.
But, if not, why had he physically reacted in the manner he did? In addition, what about those words she had said: âWe understand more about you than you know about yourself'?
Why had she said that and what could she mean by it?
This time no meaningful response came forth and he stared pensively at the crucifix. Perhaps he was trying to read too much into a simple statement and accidental touch. He shrugged and looked at his watch in the failing light. It was almost time for the evening surgery and it would be prudent not to be late this week. He rose, bowed again to the altar and left by the southwest door, buttoning his overcoat against the chill of the late afternoon air as he walked down the short church path to the road.
* * *
Later that same evening, Janice's reaction to Dr McGarva's proposition was predictable. On arriving home, James did his best to be attentive in an effort to soften the path ahead. He assisted with the preparation of dinner, complimented Janice on the meal itself (although it was far from living up to such praise) and encouraged her to talk about the many trivial matters that had filled her working day at the local council office. It was whilst he was drying the plates that he raised the topic of the partnership in Bishopsworth. He tried to introduce the subject in a meandering way, chatting about the various medical cases he had dealt with that day and finishing with his conversation with Dr McGarva, as though the chance of a partnership was of no major significance and only a faint possibility.
Having finished washing up, her reaction was one of silence punctuated by the soft gurgling of the water as it drained from the kitchen sink. The only outward sign of her feelings being the vigour with which she had pulled out the plug to allow the water to drain.
She was now standing at the open backdoor, one shoulder propped against the frame whilst her left arm folded around her chest like a self-protective embrace. The garden, still and shrouded in darkness, provided a contrasting backdrop to the vivid red glow of the tip of the cigarette she held in her right hand. She drew on it deeply, allowing the smoke to linger in her lungs before slowly exhaling. Her face had remained sullen throughout the one-sided conversation and was no less moody now. As he stood looking at her hunched back, wondering just what it would take to give her pleasure in life, the cold night air flooded past into the living room and caused him to shiver. The analogy was not lost on James. The coldness could easily have emanated from Janice.
Expecting nothing greater than the opposing silence now enveloping him, he sighed and poured a large gin and tonic. Placing a recording of
Mozart Concertos
on the turntable, he sat down in his habitual armchair and ran his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf next to him. He paused for a moment on
A Life of Christ
before moving further down the shelf and selecting a volume entitled
Selections from Ruskin.
It was a beautifully crafted book, published in 1907, leather-bound with gold lettering on a ribbed spine. The frontispiece was an early watercolour self-portrait by John Ruskin and James paused to take in his features: the high forehead and wavy, long hair above a pair of thoughtful, slightly probing eyes and a prominent, though not ungainly, nose. Taking comfort from the feel of the book in his hands and the knowledge that it contained such a wealth of beautiful prose by a master writer, he slowly turned the faintly yellowing pages, as he did so, idly wondering whether Ruskin had been an Aquarian like himself. The book gave no clue to the answer.
Deep in thought and oblivious to the fact that Janice had left her station at the backdoor and walked past him with barely a glance in his direction, he started to read.
â
Men's proper business in this world falls mainly into three divisions: First, to know themselves and the existing state of the things they have to do with. Secondly, to be happy in themselves, and in the existing state of things.'
Upstairs the bedroom door slammed shut, the noise jarring against the soft melody of Mozart's
Concerto for Flute and Harp
. James paused, took a sip of his drink and continued reading.
âThirdly, to mend themselves, and the existing state of things, as far as either are marred and mendable.'
The irony of Ruskin's words was not lost on him. Taking another sip of the gin, he read on, sensing that it was going to be another long and difficult night.
Friday morning saw the north side of the bridge looking very dull under heavy, low-slung cloud. However, as the green MGB GT sped southwards between the two towers of the world's longest single-span suspension bridge, the cloud gave way to a misty appearance that cocooned the towers and cables such that they frequently disappeared and then reappeared several yards further on. Below and to the right, James could just make out the tops of the trees of the nature reserve behind the northern foreshore before they gave way to the grey hue of the waters of the River Humber, eddying away below the road bridge.
As he passed the second of the towers, the sunlight broke through as the swirling mist gave way to patches of clear blue sky, turning the water into a sparkling light blue-grey and highlighting the sandy mudflats forming the southern foreshore. Along the water's edge stood scattered flocks of waders, their precise species being a mystery at that distance. Below and to the right, the now familiar landmark of the red-brick buildings and tall chimney of the local tile works came into view. To the left the sunlight illuminated the small town of Bishopsworth as it nestled on the edge of the Humber, fenced in by the green of the nature reserves to the north and the Lincolnshire agricultural land to the south.
âFrom darkness into light,' said James aloud, slowing down to enjoy the spectacle of the elements.
He again looked down towards the market town and pondered the nature of the news it held for him. Somewhere down there, four men held a key to his future. Having met the evening before, the four partners of the medical practice would already know what he was yet to discover. Had they decided to offer him a partnership or would today be a case of âthank you and goodbye'? It seemed strange and made him feel somewhat apprehensive knowing that, for once, his fate was not under his own control.
Having had a few days to consider the proposition further, he was sure that he wanted to join the practice. Any opposition Janice now put up would be swiftly overcome on the basis that she had steadfastly refused to discuss the issue or indeed offer any clue as to what she would prefer to see as a viable alternative. Frustrating though it was, her unresponsiveness had left no other option than for him to forge ahead alone and dictate the shape of their future without her assistance.
Descending from the bridge, he swung the MG onto the approach road to the town, drove through the almost deserted market place and into the surgery car park, where he parked alongside Dr Carey's Jaguar. Pausing only to acknowledge the greengrocer, who was in the throes of setting out a pavement display of fruit and vegetables outside his shop opposite, he entered the surgery and walked to his room. Placing his case down next to the desk, he stood looking out of the window on to the shrubbery behind his consulting room. He was uncertain as to what to do next. Should he go and find Dr McGarva or would that look too presumptive? Perhaps he ought to wait to be summoned?
âWell, are you staying?'
The soft voice startled him for the second time that week. He turned to see Anna place a mug of tea on his desk.
âThank you, that's very kind. I'm not sure â I mean I haven't been told yet.'
âWell, we all voted for you to stay. They would be in trouble if they didn't listen to us.'
âI am honoured by your support.'
âSo you should be. Remember, you owe us.'
Her blue eyes flashed him a fleeting smile before she turned and left the room.
âMorning, Anna.' The voice came from beyond the consulting room.
âGood morning, Dr McGarva,' came the reply as Anna passed the senior partner in the doorway.
James remained standing as the corpulent figure of Dr McGarva entered the room, his battered trilby still perched on his head. âMorning, James. A good meeting last night. Too much to drink, I fear, but the food was excellent. There's the faint chance that Tom Slater will not make the first surgery, but I dare say that we will manage. That's the trouble with these Yorkshiremen: they never know when they have had enough. Takes a Scotsman to show them how to do it. Anyway, you'll get used to his strange ways before long.'
Dr McGarva paused, picked up the fresh mug of tea from James' desk and took a large gulp.
âHmm, very good. Just what's needed.'
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, taking the tea with him.
Perplexed, James hurried after him.
âDr McGarva, I'm sorry, I'm not clear. I, eh, does that mean I'm being offered the partnership?'
Ian McGarva paused and turned with a quizzical expression on his face. âDidn't I make myself clear, James? Yes, of course you are. Thought that is what you wanted? Just pop upstairs and see the Practice Manager later on. The wee lassie will sort out the paperwork.'
âThank you, Dr McGarva, I am honoured and delighted to accept.'
âNo problem, James â and do call me Ian. Oh, and by the way, you will pick up those patients booked onto Tom's list if he doesn't make it in, won't you?' Without waiting for a reply, he strolled off through the waiting room.
âIt doesn't look as though I have an option, does it?' replied a grinning James who, at that precise moment, would have agreed to see the entire practice list if asked.
âWell then, Dr Armstrong, here's to the future and may the practice be prosperous so that you can keep your little brother in the manner to which he is accustomed.'
James grinned and raised his glass in response to his brother's toast.
Jules had travelled up from London for a few days and was staying with James in Barminster. He had actually been christened Julian, but from his mid-teens had insisted that everyone should refer to him as Jules, proclaiming it as âfar more befitting a man about town, darling'. He was two years younger than James but taller and with a debonair manner that charmed, within moments of meeting, all who came across him. He owned a small pied-Ã -terre in Chelsea and ran a well-known jeweller's shop within the Royal Exchange in the heart of the City of London.
âI think I would have to be working in Harley Street in order to support you.'
It was Jules' turn to grin.
âWell, a small monthly allowance wouldn't go amiss. It will be put to
very
good use, I can assure you.'
âI am sure that it would!' replied James, laughing. âPerhaps you would prefer if I simply opened an account for you at one or two of your favourite watering holes?'
âWell, now, that's an
excellent
idea, brother. I shall see to it that a glass is raised to your health on each and every occasion.'
James laughed again. He knew only too well his brother's proclivity for living the high life. If Jules suggested going for a drink, he would have nothing less in mind than a bottle of champagne at the Ritz or a cocktail or two at the Café Royale in Regent Street.
As two brothers who grew up together in the heart of Kent, life had taken them in very different directions. Whilst James had burnt the midnight oil with his nose buried in book after book, Jules had forsaken such scholarly pursuits in search of more leisurely ways to burn the midnight oil. That said, he had done very nicely for himself, being well connected socially and having held a string of high-profile positions within the retail sector of the City and Mayfair. The fact that he was gay had never been an issue. On the contrary, it was something he frequently played to his advantage as it lent well to his suave, sophisticated character. Although they rarely saw each other, maybe three or four times per year, they were very close and easily continued their relationship from where they last left off, as though it were just last week when they were last in each other's company.
Earlier that day James had shown Jules around Bishopsworth. True to form, he had arrived slightly earlier than expected and had caused quite a stir amongst the receptionists upon introducing himself at the surgery. James could quite understand why. Leaving his consulting room, he was greeted by the sight of his brother dressed in a very long cashmere coat with a large sable collar, wearing a beautifully shaped Borsalino hat from Herbert Johnson's, and clutching leather gloves and a silver-topped cane in his right hand. The diamond and ruby encrusted tiepin, assorted rings and a couple of gold bracelets simply added to the movie-star effect. James had laughingly greeted him with a warm embrace and a kiss to both cheeks.
âYou really should have been christened Sebastian,' James had said, once more reminded of his brother's similarity to Sebastian Flyte, the young aristocratic character in Evelyn Waugh's novel
Brideshead Revisted
.
Jules had merely grinned, well knowing the effect his outfit would cause amongst what he considered to be the backwaters of the country, which was anywhere outside London, as far as he was concerned.
They were now dining together in one of Barminster's better restaurants. Le Caveau
featured for several years in the
Good Food Guide
and was one of James' favourites. It
was unusual insomuch as it was, as its name implied, in the basement of the remains of the old town gateway. At some stage in the history of the town, probably around the 16
th
century, the building had been the tollgate for all foreigners entering the town. The basement was once a prison where debtors were incarcerated. Its stone barrel-vaulted roof (added in 1800) and original stone walls gave it an air of timelessness and intimacy, providing a pleasurable haven away from the bustle of modern life on the streets above. Only the occasional black iron ring fixed into the walls reminded the present day patrons of its original purpose.
James raised his hand to summon a waiter and ordered another bottle of Puligny Montrachet. Although he had found the 1987 vintage to be exceptionally good, the 1988 harvest seemed to have excelled itself, producing a pleasingly clear lemon-yellow wine that, when chilled, slipped down very well alongside his choice of baked halibut.
âSo, James, bring me up to date with all the news,' said Jules, accepting another glass of wine with an eager nod.
âWell, from the surgery point of view I am delighted. I feel that I have settled very well there over the past ten months. After all this time, I would have actually been sorry to leave. That said, the offer of a partnership did come as a surprise. I really wasn't aware that they were thinking of expanding.' James paused as he savoured the delicate texture of the halibut.
âIt's not exactly Yorkshire though, is it?' asked Jules with a quizzical eyebrow. He was well aware of, though had never quite understood, his brother's long-standing love affair with windswept moorlands and dry stone walls. âI mean, Lincolnshire seems a bit flat by comparison. How far are you from the nearest hill?'
James grinned. âI know that it's a compromise, but it's one I'm happy with. It doesn't take long to get to the Dales and I could easily have long weekends there. There are, in fact, many advantages to being in Bishopsworth. Indeed, I rather feel that fate has again played in my favour.'
âGo on.'
âWell, the university really.'
âWhich one? London or Oxford? It's a little far from both, isn't it?'
â
No
,
Hull
!' James almost choked whilst laughing and trying to swallow at the same time. âHonestly, Jules, there is life beyond the Watford Gap, you know!'
â
Really
?' Jules stared back with a wide-eyed, straight-faced expression of wonderment. Only a small flicker of one corner of his mouth and the contraction of his cheek muscles gave the game away. He was delighting in teasing his brother over his move to the north of England and away from what he considered the bastion of civilisation.
Ignoring his brother's taunts, James continued.
âIt does give me an excellent opportunity to read theology. The course at Hull is considered to be very good and can be taken on a part-time basis.'
âSo, you are still keen to take Holy Orders â as a non-stipendiary?' enquired Jules between mouthfuls of tuna steak.
James nodded.
âYou're not thinking of giving up medicine?'
âMost certainly not. I feel that priesthood is the one piece of the jigsaw that is currently missing in my life. I think it will fit in very well with general practice.'
â
Hmm,
darling
, I think a frock will suit you very well.'
âEnough! You know this means a lot to me.' James was used to Jules' teasing along those lines and could easily brush it off.
âOk,' said Jules, immediately dropping the camp air and becoming serious again. âI can see you as a priest. Church life has always suited you very well. How is Janice taking all this?'
âIt really is very difficult to say. To be truthful we are more or less leading separate lives these days.'
This was the first time Janice had been mentioned since leaving home that evening for the restaurant. Although her greeting of Jules had been polite, she had made every excuse possible not to join the two of them for dinner. Jules was aware of James' suspicion regarding her having an eating disorder and had not tried to push the issue. Besides, they could talk more freely in her absence.
âIs she looking forward to moving to Bishopsworth?'
âIn all honesty, I don't know, although I suspect not. She more or less refuses to discuss the subject. She hasn't even wanted to go and have a look at the area.'
âBut you will have to move?'
âOf course. I cannot be on-call for nights and weekends in Bishopsworth whilst living in Barminster. It's too far to travel in the event of something urgent.'
âSo how are you going to cope?'
âI'll get by. For the moment, I am planning to take the lease on a flat above one of the shops in the market place. I do need Janice to be with me when I am on call because of the need to answer the telephone when I am out on another visit. In the meantime, she will continue to live here in Barminster. It will not be much fun for her, but hopefully, by staying periodically in the flat, she will then be happier to look around and find a house she likes in Bishopsworth or one of the surrounding villages. However, until we do find something I am a little reluctant to put this one in Barminster on the market.'
âAre you truly happy, James?'
âWith my life? Yes, of course. It is quiteâ'
âNo, I mean with your marriage,' said Jules, interrupting him.
âOf course. There are timesâ'
âTruth.' Again, Jules interrupted. This time by the fact that Jules' left index finger was firmly pressing on the end of James' nose; a manoeuvre they had both frequently employed as young boys when demanding nothing short of honesty from each other.
James glanced at his brother and then down towards the left side of the table, his eyes fixing vaguely on some breadcrumbs on the white cloth.
âI have always felt that a marriageâ'
âLook at me, James.' Jules' right hand was now gently pressing on James' left cheek, causing him to look up again.
âI haven't spent the last two years dating a rather cute psychologist not to know that when people are lying they tend to look down and towards their left.' He paused, staring intently at his brother's face. âTruth.' Once more, the index finger was on the tip of James' nose.
James gave a wry grin and reached for his wine glass, only to have a firm hand press down on his, preventing any movement of the glass from the table.
âTruth,' Jules said again, this time more softly but equally demanding.
âNo.' James' voice was almost a whisper.
âThen, for goodness' sake, seek a divorce.'
âYou know I can't do that.' James looked imploringly at his brother.
âWhy not? Why be miserable for the rest of your life? We only have one chance at this.'
âI know. But it is against everything I believe in. I would be nothing but a hypocrite. How could I call myself a Christian? How could I become a priest and preach the teachings of Christ whilst not being willing to follow the same teachings within my own life? How could I live with myself?'
James looked sorrowfully at his brother, knowing that there was no answer to be had.
âNo. I have chosen my path and I must live with my decisions, even though they have created unrest for me. In hindsight, I am sure that I should have acted differently, probably not even married. However, it is done and I must try and make the most of it.'
âEven if it means being discontented for the rest of your life?'
âI am sure that some have had it far worse, Jules.'
âI admire your strength, James.'
âI am not sure that it is strength. More a case of quiet resignation.'
He stopped whilst the waiter removed their plates and returned with the pudding menu, which Jules waved away.
âHoweverâ¦' he caught the waiter's arm, âI think two
very
large malt whiskies would be
most
welcomed.'