Absolute Truths (62 page)

‘Charles, I hardly know how to find the words –’

‘
It’s all right, Malcolm.’

‘
No, it’s not all right.’ Malcolm became pinker than ever. ‘I’ve
got to say how sorry I am that I gave you such offence. I admire
you more than any other clergyman I know, and –’ He became
stuck.

By this time I was almost as agonised as he was. Not having his
fair complexion I was incapable of matching his blush but I was
certainly very hot beneath my clerical collar. I said: ‘No need to
say any more.’

‘
But there is! You see, I’ve modelled myself on you for a long
time now, and if I’ve wound up making you upset I want to
understand where I’ve gone wrong so that I can –’

I held up my hand. He stopped, and in the fraught silence which
followed I remembered Charley, yet another priest who had cast himself in my image with such unsatisfactory results. I felt
as
if I
had been dumped in front of a looking-glass and forced to look
at a
reflection I had no desire to own.

At last I managed to say: ‘The archdeacon reflects the bishop
who chose him. If I was angry with you, I should really have been
angry with myself. In fact I can see now I’ve got a lot of things
wrong.’

Malcolm was astounded. ‘What sort of things?’

‘I’ve taken too hard a line too often.’

‘
But that’s what we’ve all admired so much! If ever we need a
strong traditionalist bishop we need one now!’

‘
Even a strong traditionalist bishop – perhaps especially a strong
traditionalist
bishop – needs to be able to say now and then: "I
was wrong." Without humility strength can only be weakness, and
without compassion traditionalism parts company with tradition.’

‘
I still don’t understand. Are you saying –’

‘
There were two aspects to Christ’s ministry, weren’t there? The
prophetic and the pastoral: he spoke out against sin but at the
same time he behaved with compassion towards sinners. And he
held those two aspects of his ministry in perfect balance. But I
haven’t. I’ve emphasised the prophetic at the expense of the
pastoral.’

‘
So what you’re saying is ... in relation to Langley Bottom ...’
But he could not quite work it out.

‘
I was wrong in putting all the blame on Desmond,’ I said. The
truth is he was our pastoral failure: he got overstrained and
couldn’t cope and he felt he couldn’t ask either of us for help. But
we’re not going to fail him in future. We’re going to see that he’s
given proper support and that his special gift for prayer is drawn
out and fully used.’

‘By Hall?’

‘
By Hall.’ I paused to choose my words with care. ‘I talked to the Bishop of Radbury about him,’ I said at last. ‘He did make
the cynical remark that Hall was the kind of priest who might
occasionally commit the sin of fornication but would never commit
the sin of being found out, but it’s easy to be cynical, isn’t it? You
and I have been cynical too, but the fact remains that throughout Hall’s ministry as a celibate priest there’s no record of him getting
into trouble. Doesn’t that suggest that in our cynicism we’re doing
him an injustice and that he deserves our trust instead of our
doubt?’

Malcolm said cautiously: ‘I suppose the Abbot-General was trying to signal as much when he wrote that glowing reference.’ With
a sigh he added: ‘I foresee plenty of problems with that healing
centre. I’m not saying it won’t eventually be an asset to the diocese,
but ifs bound to be a strain on my nerves.’

‘
Let me know if you feel an ungovernable urge to dress up in
black leather and head for Piccadilly Circus.’

At that point the intercom buzzed and Miss Peabody informed
me that Martin was telephoning from Starrington.

‘
Little Muggins is on the mend,’ Martin informed me. ‘He’s sitting
on the hearth with the cat again, but he managed to stagger to
the chapel for mass and just now he even returned to normal by
asking me hopefully if I intended to leave soon.’

‘Did Jon mention –’

‘
Yes, he’s dead keen to see you, but he had to admit you’d get
more mileage out of him if you postponed your visit till tomorrow.
He’s exhausted.’

‘
I understand.’ In an effort to conceal my disappointment I said
quickly: ‘Will you be staying on for another night at the South
Canonry?’

‘
No, Dad assures me I’m free now to head back to London –
but thanks for all your hospitality, Charles, and let me take you
to dine at the Garrick when you’re next up in town.’

I said that would make a most interesting change from dining
at the Athenaeum. Then after concluding the call I felt I had no
choice but to begin plotting my next searing session with Aysgarth.

Sheer cowardice made me toy with the nation of postponing the
interview until I had talked to’ Jon, but I suspected that the longer
I postponed my ordeal the more upsetting it would become, and
I recoiled from the prospect of the sleepless night which would

‘
e my inevitable reward for procrastination. It did of course occur o me that Jon could have offered some practical spiritual advice
bout how to have a Christian dialogue with Aysgarth instead of
secular free-for-all, but this seemed to me to be a situation where
bishop accustomed to dealing with tough ecclesiastical problems
vas more likely than a hermit to sp
ot the most suitable spiritual m
ath through the worldly jungle – or so I thought. I should have r
ealised that after a particularly arduous morning I was ripe to
make
a fatally bad decision.

I pictured my suitable spiritual path. It was clear that I was
obliged
to treat Aysgarth with courtesy, patience, kindness and
as
much
Christian charity as I could muster, and that I was on no
account
to display that deadly sin, anger. I liked this spiritual path
very much. I surveyed it for some time and soothed myself with
edifying Christian thoughts about turning the other cheek and
l
oving one’s neighbour
as
oneself.

However, I then had to decide how this truly admirable
behaviour could be achieved in what I was sure would be very
inflammatory
circumstances. Naturally I had to pray for help and
rust in God’s grace. Naturally. But it seemed to me it was also
my absolute moral duty to use my worldly savoir-faire in order to
:make
sure my spiritual path was not promptly eliminated. Even the
most beautiful path through a jungle stands no chance of surviving
For long unless the undergrowth is controlled by a machete.

Accordingly I activated my worldly savoir-faire and spent ten
minutes in concentrated thought which produced some very
unattractive conclusions. (But unfortunately no machete is likely
to
be described as attractive.) The first conclusion was that since
Aysgarth became a killer in debate, I had to take great care not to
wind up as a corpse. Or in other words, debate had to be wholly
avoided. The tone of the interview had to be casual, even cosy,
and in order to achieve this remarkable atmosphere I had to go
to great lengths to appear unintimidating. This was most definitely
not the occasion to don full episcopal uniform and summon the
Dean to the South Canonry; nor was it the occasion to wear one
of my Savile Row suits which would inevitably inflame the chip
on Aysgarth’s shoulder and remind him that my upbringing had
been socially superior to his. I had to be casually dressed – but
not in that gentlemanly style which makes even shabby informality
look elegant.

I trailed upstairs to my dressing-room.

Here I selected an elderly sports-shirt and a pair of slacks whit
I had bought off-the-peg a couple of years before during a bushing
trip to Canterbury when I had received an unexpected invitation
to play golf. I also remembered a brown pullover which I ha
bought as a charitable gesture in a local jumble sale. My oldest
raincoat would complete this unfortunate ensemble and render m
fit for the battlefield.

My next unedifying concl
usion was that in order to make th
e
informality credible I had
to drop in without warning at the
Deanery. If I made an appointment yet arrived looking like some
grammar-school arriviste, Aysgarth would at
once
see through
my ruse and deduce I was playing power-games (which I was)
This in turn would mean I had lost not only the first round of the
battle but any chance of establishing the cosy atmosphere
necessary
to avoid a blood-bath.

My final unedifying conclusion was that if I dropped in unan
nounced and found he was out, I would have to forfeit the chance
to look excessively informal when we met. To drop in once in
appalling clothes was just about acceptable, provided I claimed
was on my way to the water-meadows for a walk, but to drop it
twice in appalling clothes would be to push the bounds of eccen
tricity beyond plausible limits. I had to hit the jackpot on my first
call, but how could I find out if Aysgarth was at home? Fo
rtunat
ely
I then remembered that through sheer mental stress I had forgotten
to write a note to my hostess to thank her for Friday’s dinner-party
I dialled the number of the Deanery.

‘
Charles my dear!’ said Dido almost before I could complete my
routine greeting. ‘What a relief to hear your voice, I’m told
you
were kidnapped after evensong last night by Harriet March
and
Martin Darrow and I was afraid their conversation might have
shocked you to death, although personally I like Harriet because
she reminds me of my unconventional past before I settled down
with darling Stephen and lived happily ever after, and of course 1
adore dearest Martin,
so
charming, how wonderful that he survived
that peculiar old father of his, but you’re devoted to Jon Darrow,
aren’t you, so I must watch what I say, but frankly, my dear, I
don’t think anyone should live as a hermit in a wood, ifs so dreadfully showy and self-centred. Do you want to speak to Stephen?’

‘
Well –’

‘
He’s not here at the moment, but he’ll be back by half-past three. Can I give him a message?’

‘
As a matter of fact, Dido,’ I was at last allowed to say, ‘you
were the one I wanted to speak to. I’m phoning to apologise
for not writing to thank you for that splendid dinner last Friday. I –’

‘
Oh, of course I realised you were much too devastated by grief
to lift a pen! But how nice of you to phone. We were delighted
t
o see you, and after you’d gone all the ladies agreed that being
haggard suited you – in
fact
Harriet said on the phone this morn
ing how handsome you still were –’ she paused for breath; I winced in anticipation ‘– even in old age, and I’m bound to say I agreed with her. Well, my dear –’ And she talked briskly for a further twenty seconds before replacing the receiver.

I did wonder why Harriet had telephoned the Deanery, but
soon remembered that she herself had just enjoyed the Aysgarths’
hospitality and would have been under a similar obligation to
thank her hostess. I then had to decide how I could pass the
time until Aysgarth returned home, but the mere thought of the
approaching interview was sufficient to immobilise me. I supposed
I should telephone Charley to see if he had recovered his equilib
rium, but I felt unable to face another melodramatic exchange with
him. I wanted to telephone Michael but dared not for fear any further rebuff would induce a profound depression. I knew I should start answering the sympathy letters, but the moment I
opened the file and saw Sheila’s letter I felt physically sick. Finally
I took a look at
The Times,
but flung it aside when I read that
Sunbeam had given an interview on the wireless about the religious
significance of the Beatles. I decided to have lunch but all I could
eat was a water-biscuit.

Time crawled by. Nigel appeared with some selected files and said Miss Peabody was engaged in typing the appropriate notes
t
o
accompany them. Malcolm was not mentioned. I suspected
that Nigel longed to discuss the archidiaconal subjugation but had
decided that any expression of approval, no matter how muted,
could only be interpreted as a most unchristian demonst
^r
ation of
glee. I told him about my approaching journey to the Deanery
and he very sincerely wished me luck before retiring to Starmouth,
Left on my own once more I ate another water-biscuit and
began to do the crossword in
The Times.

Finally at half-past three I went upstairs to dress as a grammar-
school arriviste. At quarter to four I went to the lavatory. At ten
to four I was leaving the house and at five to four I was ringing
the doorbell of the Deanery.

By that time I would have preferred to confront a starving lion
at the Colosseum.