Gideon's Chair

Chapter 2 Near Nottingham Present Day

The Village church I was at yesterday .What have they got happening I wondered , maybe just a way of welcoming new residents .glancing through it , apparently we are all welcome to the centenary of the church in November. A celebration to give thanks to god for 100 years of St Cecilias ....There will be a bring and buy ...Oddly I was reading quietly out loud  . ...a prayer meeting and Father Michael will be joined by Bishop Patrick from York who will both give sermons . The local schools will do a short play depicting 100 years of Five Acre Village . Very nice I thought.

Folding the post back into a bundle , I placed it back into my jacket pocket , putting the Antiques Magazine on the bedside cupboard by Carol's bed.

"Would you like a drink young man" I heard from somewhere . Then a tap on my shoulder . " Want a drink young man"

Quickly focussing , blinking , I recognised the uniform of a Womens Institute tea lady standing next to me . I must have fallen asleep.

" Yes Yes thank you , that would be very nice , coffee please , just milk "

"Is that your wife , she's beautiful . You have been asleep for a while , seemed sad to wake you .....here you are luvvy " She said pouring me a cup from one of those huge urns you only seem to see in hospitals .

"Thanks " I took the cup from her and watched her walk away pushing the trolley .

I sipped from the light brown cup , peering around the curtain I glanced at the clock. One pm.Pushing my chair under the bed end I hurriedly finished the drink , kissed Carol and whispered " Back later babe"

The football crowd of people had disappeared a little as I made my way back to the car . Hospitals are lonely places at the best of times , but sitting in the car in yellow zone bay 18 was it seemed the loneliest moment of my life.

Where do I go , what do I do

As if on auto pilot I found myself back in the village , which again seemed empty of people .Parking up by the post office I bought the local newspaper . The post office acted as a general store and newsagent and meeting place for hundreds of tourists , walkers and cyclists each weekend.

Folding it under my arm , I decided to walk back into the village , I just didn't want to go back to the house just yet . All it did was make me feel helpless and sad. Two young children ran into the street kicking a ball , I smiled , how many times had I done that as a youngster .Turning left at the green , past the mailbox I walked down the narrow pavement as if drawn back by a magnet to the church gates .

They creaked as I pushed them open , again scattering birds from nearby trees.I wondered what sort of reception I would get this time.. In the distance by the gardeners shed I noticed the priest walking towards his church along one of the many winding paths .

" Good afternoon father " I shouted , hurrying my step and waving at the same time .

Father Michael glanced across at me , he seemed to freeze , horror on his face . Holding the front of his robe he broke into a run without looking at me again until he disappeared out of site.

A door banged , with a thud only huge oak doors seemed to make .

Half running half walking quickly I followed in his direction . Turning around the corner of the church wall , I arrived at the door I presumed he had gone through. Turning the rusty metal handle I pulled. The door was locked.

"Father , Father Michael " my voice echoed around the grounds .

Banging loudly on the door , bits of dust and rusty metal dropped from the door .

"Father ....Father " I banged one more time ....nothing .My voice tapered away to a whisper " Why are you running away from me " I said to myself or the door .