There were only so many times Lucy could bring herself to ignore a phone call.
“Hello.”
“Hi Lucy. It’s Sam…”
“I know.”
“Yeah…”
Knew, and was trying to avoid talking to you.
“What is it?”
“How much do you know?”
“Know? More than enough, I’m avoiding the whole thing now. Anyway, I have to go to a hospice visit…”
“I had a meeting with the archbishop…”
“Ruth?” It wasn’t the best context for a meeting with your bishop, and while Lucy knew how kind Ruth could be, she'd hate to see the other side of her.
“Yeah. And Janice was there.”
“Formal.”
“Yeah. Look, Lucy… can I come and see you, please?”
“I’m really busy.”
“Just half an hour or something…”
“Look. Sam. I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m disgusted by the whole thing and I’m only having this conversation now because I’m too soft not to. I thought you were decent enough and now… I don’t know what to make of you.”
“I had to resign.”
That cut Lucy off. If she’d known, she might have been more sympathetic… slightly. It was deserved, and hardly a surprising conclusion, but still unpleasant.
“They took my license. I have two weeks left to move out.”
“Ah.” It was very hard to change tone so abruptly, the perils of being unkind. “Um, you want to come over for a chat?”
“Yes please.”
“This week? Tomorrow? Today?”
“I’ve nothing to do, it’s less than an hour’s drive.”
“I’m doing parish work until five, then evening prayer, but nothing this evening. Free from… say seven? About the same tomorrow, also I have an hour’s gap after lunch.”
“Tonight wouldn’t be too inconvenient?”
“Bring pyjamas if you like, I have a spare bed.” Damn, she needed to stop being nice. Going from ‘I don’t want anything to do with you’ to ‘stay the night’ in the course of about a minute.
“I don’t want to be any trouble, just a chat is fine. I have packing to do anyway.”
“Well. See you tonight.”
Like parish work wasn’t hard enough, without thinking of Sam – whose life should be very similar to Lucy’s, but now wasn’t. There wasn’t really any other way it could have resolved, but that didn’t make it easier.
“Oh, Lucy.” Anna, grinning broadly, delighted to see her. “Oh it is my lucky day. How are you, my dear?”
“Wonderful, thank you, Anna. And how are you doing? They looking after you well?”
“Oh, wonderfully, it’s like a hotel, only with more gadgets.”
Anna was one of the lucky ones, though Lucy was careful not to hint at that. The benefice varied so widely, as did the different hospices and care homes. This was one of the good ones, with price tag to match.
“How are you feeling?”
“Calm. Relaxed. Determined to make the most of things while I’m still here.”
“I’m delighted to hear it. The flowers are from your children?”
“Nick was here a couple of hours ago, he’s bringing Stephie tomorrow. They won’t let me get lonely.”
If only all of Lucy’s parishioners were so contented. The rest of the afternoon held tears in excess, depressed lethargies and anxieties. She left the hospital after the last one massaging feeling back into her hand. She’d done her best, offered every reassurance she could find, to no avail. Now to wrap up the day with evening prayer, and then… she should get to go home and relax. Instead, she’d get to try to deal with Samantha, and all the complexities that entailed.
“Sam. Come in.” She held the door open, reflecting that she should have changed out of clericals. Not that she’d had time, but Sam might feel she was rubbing it in.
Samantha’s hair had escaped its bun and was straggling around her face; a surprise in itself, Samantha looking anything but perfect. Makeup untidy, as if hastily patched in the car. Lucy almost directed her through to the sitting room, then realised how that would feel, and led the way into the kitchen instead, so as not to make it like a parish meeting. She snuck the plastic tab out of her collar and left it on a counter.
“Hot chocolate? Fruit tea? It’s late.” She waved the hot chocolate pot at Samantha, who nodded slightly. Lucy perched on a stool while they waited for the milk to heat up, indicating that Samantha should do the same. “We’ll go through to the lounge as soon as it’s ready, it’s comfier there.”
“Thanks for letting me come.”
“Sorry for being so short with you earlier.”
“I’m used to it, you’re actually talking to me anyway which is… thank you.”
And suddenly she was crying, and Lucy was round the other side of the table with her arms around her, rocking her gently. There was nothing really to say.
“Sorry… it’s just…”
“Come to the living room and tell me everything. I have the whole evening.”
By the time they made it through, Sam was crying again. Lucy perched beside her, offering tissues, an arm around her as the best comfort she could offer.
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m just…”
“Nothing wrong with crying. You’re fine.”
“I just… I have no idea what to do. What I’m doing. I wanted this so much and then I… went and screwed it all up. Where do I go next? The whole country hates me, the Church has thrown me out...”
“Only from your job.”
“I broke my ordination vows.”
Lucy didn’t really have answers. Why did it have to come to her?
“You’ve talked about how nice Ruth is and all but she… it was the most horrible thing I’ve ever done. She said… she said… I betrayed God.”
“Oh. That’s….” Horrible. Deserved. “I’ve never known her be anything but endlessly patient. I'm sorry you didn't get that side.”
“You’re a good person.”
“No I’m not, I’m a normal person. Like you.”
“You’d never try to tell someone that God doesn’t love them.”
“Well…” No. “You thought at the time it was the right thing, right?”
Sam nodded.
“I mean… it wasn’t. But you know that now.”
“If I could go back and change it all, I would.”
“I know.”
“There’s no coming back now. I know that.”
“There’s always something.”
“The whole country knows what happened, and that’s my fault. Nobody’s going to hire me now. Not for anything.”
Lucy thought for a minute. No response to that. “What are you doing now? Short-term?”
“Dunno.”
“You have somewhere to move to?”
“No.”
“Can you go home, to your parents?”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“Still.”
“I guess I have to… bring myself to ask.”
“Do you want to come here? Just for a couple of weeks, while you work out what to do next?”
Why did she offer these things? The words just seemed to come out of her mouth.
“You mean it?”
Lucy nodded, unable to take it back now.
“Thank you so much. I mean… just a couple of weeks. While I work it out. It’s all so quick…”
Lucy nodded sympathetically. Leaving CKC had been quick, and that with some warning and a place to go. She’d had support.
“Did you bring pyjamas?
Samantha nodded.
“Well, go get them, and I’ll show you the spare bedroom. Then we can sit on the sofa for an hour or so and talk shit about the government or whatever. Have you eaten?”
Samantha shrugged. “Not really hungry.”
“You’ll keep me company though, right? I made so much bolognese yesterday, I have enough left for a week if you don't help.”
“I guess.”
Lucy had to struggle to eat slowly, as Sam picked at her food. She was reading the warning signs, and while she couldn’t do much, she could at least see Sam fed and then chased off to bed. Rolling over shortly after midnight, she tried to shut out the sobbing through the wall.
Samantha was still asleep when Lucy’s alarm woke her, so she left a note on the table, alongside breakfast things.
Off to morning prayer, will be back for half an hour at nine, help yourself to food. -Lucy
Not that there was much point going to St Matthew’s for Morning Prayer, given Tim was still on holiday and nobody else ever came, but she was supposed to go so she did. Came back to find Samantha just stirring, coming out of the bathroom in a nightdress.
“Morning.” A casual greeting, as Lucy went through to her study to sort out everything she needed for the day. A couple of parish visits, then Eucharist at St Mary the Virgin, then back for lunch. She paused and glanced back. “Are you okay, what happened?”
Three cuts, parallel, half-healed. Samantha flung her towel over her shoulder to cover them.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Just a scrape.”
“If you’re sure… make sure you have some breakfast…”
How woefully inadequate Lucy was, that for all the time she spent trying to help people, she didn’t really have a clue how. Just be there, listen, supply them with tea and tissues… it wasn’t really helping, was it? Just pretending. She spent the morning driving along country lanes to visit lonely farmers, a stop off at a coffee club mid-morning. Presided at St Mary’s and then returned to find Sam gone, another note on the table.
Thanks for letting me stay. Gone home to pack. See you on Saturday night unless you change your mind. -Sam
Wouldn’t it be painful to Sam, to see Lucy living the life she’d lost? But if she wanted to come, she could. Saturday was quiet, devoted mostly to sermon writing, giving her time to cook and to plan things for Sam to do - keep her busy, she’d need it. Chicken in the oven, a bottle of white in the fridge to chill. She went through the bathroom for razors, moving them to her bedroom.
The doorbell rang five minutes early, and Lucy showed Samantha in, first helping her take a suitcase to the bedroom then moving to the kitchen. Checked her phone subtly, just to make sure nothing had happened. Nope, all good.
“Wine? Since it’s Saturday?”
“That’d be lovely.”
Though Lucy would have to be up in time for the 8 AM at Bart’s, so Saturday wasn’t really a night for too much relaxation. Ideally, there’d be some left in the bottle for tomorrow evening, after evensong.
They talked for a while about nothing in particular, about old friends from college and about how the weather would affect the farming community, through dinner and then dessert, before Lucy finally broached the questions really weighing on her.
“What are your plans, for next steps? Any ideas yet?”
Samantha shrugged defeatedly. “Anything that’ll take me? I’ve got a bit of savings, to help with deposits and stuff. There aren’t really any jobs anywhere, though. If I could just get one thing it’d be easier to move on, it wouldn’t be the curacy thing on top of my application forms, but it’s getting that first thing. I could do further study, but no funding. I dunno. There’s nothing, really. Couch surf until everyone’s tired of me?”
Lucy shook her head. “Something will work out. In the end.”
“Sure. How?”
“I don’t know. It will.”
“God already gave me this, I fucked it up completely. It’s not like I deserve another chance.”
Lucy put the wine bottle back in the fridge. Two glasses for Sam, one and a half for her, that was quite enough.
“What did you do, before college?”
“Librarian. Academic library stuff, classic Arts graduate path.”
“You can’t go back to that? Local or academic?”
“Maybe.”
“Try.”
Samantha stood up. “I’m tired. Guess you have to get up tomorrow.” So bitter. Lucy couldn’t blame her.
“Yeah, early. Won’t disturb you unless you want me to, I’ll show you where the breakfast stuff is now… you want to come to a service tomorrow? Nearest is St James at nine, but I’m doing an eight, a ten, and eleven fifteen at St Luke's. St Luke’s is low – low as it comes out here - the ten o’clock is high, the others kind of… normal by C of E standards. All communion, the ones I’m doing.”
“Rather not.”
Lucy, hands submerged in hot soapy water, paused in washing up to look around. “Really? You should. The eight o'clock'll be quiet, if you want to avoid people.”
“No.”
What could she do except shrug. “Okay. There’s evensong at five. St James'. Tim’s doing benediction at St Mary’s, not my thing but…”
“I’m fine.”
No. No, you’re not. “Well, as you like. See you some time tomorrow. I’ll be back about half twelve, maybe one, parish schedule and map is on the board in the hall if you change your mind.”
“I could put lunch on for you?”
“That’d be great. Couple of pizzas in the fridge, I’ll text you when I leave St Luke’s so you can time it perfectly.”
“Night.”
It really wasn’t ideal, for Samantha to be staying with a curate just after losing her own place. Lucy should have thought of that. What could she have done, though? Surely if Sam had been able to find somewhere else, she’d have done so? All Lucy could do was offer her a bed and food, and help as much as possible while getting on with her job. Being a curate was most of her life, she could hardly be subtle about it. She'd have to talk to Tim in their next supervision, get his advice.
They were running out of things to talk about, by the time Lucy was slumped on the sofa eating pizza. She’d been busy, taken three services already, but she couldn’t talk about that. And Sam hadn’t done anything either, she just shrugged at the question.
“Walk? After lunch? It’s cold but… exercise is good.”
Sam shrugged. “Sure.”
“There’s a nice track, turns off the road about twenty meters along. I’ve been thinking of getting a dog, but not sure if it’d be fair on the poor thing, I’m out most of the time. Could come with me, but it’d have to be quiet, how do you test that before committing?”
“Dunno. Could get a trial period, maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe that's a thing. Could look into it next time I get a quiet spell…” She tailed off. Everything was awkward. “Walk?”
Along the top of the moor, wind threatening to blow them off the path. Not necessarily a bad thing, when it meant they could laugh at that instead of struggling for conversation. Lucy watched the clouds, reflecting back over the morning’s services. Her sermon had been a rush job, she needed to improve on that. That hairy moment, when a missing organist had delayed the ten o’clock by five minutes, making the gap between that service and the next impossibly short. She hated speeding, even if the police didn’t have the resources to enforce it around here, even if – as Tim said – the worst that would happen was a fine and a routine telling off from the archdeacon. They all did it, he said, so long as they didn’t have cars fancy enough to prevent them. That didn’t make it okay, though.
“Come to evensong. It’s Epiphany.”
“I’m good.”
“With me, or benediction at St Mary’s.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should.”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk to Tim? He’s good.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I’ve talked to the archbishop herself.”
“Context.”
“Give up. Have fun at evensong.”
Lucy gave up. What else could she do? There was evensong to sing, and then an unexpected conversation with a parishioner afterwards. A long, quiet evening in front of the TV, finishing the previous night’s wine, before she made the first move to bed. Or at least, to read a book in bed, and write her journal, to pray and reflect on the day gone by. Every day had its conversations. Mostly, round here, concerns about redundancy. Superfarms growing, shutting down the locals, using robots instead of machine operatives. Crops instead of animals, too, that move towards sustainability which failed to take into account the place of livestock in places like this. What was a hillside without a flock of sheep? A morning, without the lowing of cattle coming in for milking? Farmland, without farmers? The woman she’d spoken to this evening, worried about having to sell the farm she’d inherited from her parents.
Sam was crying again, on the other side of the wall. Lucy picked up her book and concentrated on it, trying to shut out the sound. There was only so much she could do, only so much she had the energy to do. Time would have to do the healing.
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