Becoming (20 page)

Ridley entered the room with a silver tray. On it was a teapot, a bowl of sugar, some milk and a plate of biscuits. He placed it down on the edge of the table, struggling to find a space.

‘There we are now. Seeing as we have guests and it’s a special occasion I’ve got the biscuits out. We don’t often have biscuits, do we Ruth? Now how does everyone take it?’

The tea was poured, the biscuits shared. Gaia ate a couple. They were soft and tasted stale. Gaia noticed that Freya ate nothing and left her tea. The priest took the seat at the head of the table, Ruth standing by his side. As the old man took his seat the child’s body stiffened and her eyes flared. 

‘Go get your sisters, will you Ruth my dear? Bring them through to meet our guests.’

Ruth left the room by the far door, as the others exchanged small talk. The child soon returned with two more girls. Both were dressed similar to Ruth in white, tattered dresses. Both were barefoot. One was older, tall and thin, but still a few years younger than Gaia. The older girl had long, black hair and piercing green eyes that shone like emeralds. She was pretty, but her face looked bitter and troubled. The second girl was between the size and ages of Ruth and the elder girl, with stunning green eyes and dazzling long red hair, identical in colour to Gaia’s. This was the first time Gaia had ever seen someone else with red hair. While Gaia’s hair was shiny and vibrant, this girl’s looked dull and lank. The red-haired girl looked more relaxed than the elder, with a warmth, as though she was pleased to see the visitors. Both girl’s eyes, gorgeous to look at, shared the same cold, lifeless stare as Ruth. All three girls lined up alongside the priest, each in order of height. Ruth nearest to the old man who smiled and addressed the guests.

‘Here we are my pretty things. Now you know Ruth. This is Mary, and the older one is Rebecca. My how they grow up quickly, don’t they? Mary and Rebecca these are our guests, Gaia and, sorry could you remind me of your names again. I’m getting old. The memory is going.’

Ridley leaned forward, a questioning look on his face, staring at Freya and Aran in turn.

‘Freya.’

‘Aran.’

‘Yes, of course. Forgive me. Freya and Aran. Unusual names, but interesting. I like them.’

The old man paused, put his cup to his lips and took a long drink. Some tea ran from his mouth and down the side of his chin. The priest took a napkin from the table, dabbed it and sniffed, his nostrils flaring, a snarl sweeping across his face.

‘I notice you have their eyes, of the community. I assume you’re running from the island. Forgive me if you’re not.’

Gaia cast a glance at Freya, an indication to remain quiet. Freya’s eyes were ablaze, but she bit her lip and let Gaia answer the priest.

‘Yes, we’re from the island. We’re looking for a group that live in the hills. Things weren’t working out for us there so we’re looking for something else, a different way of life. They say things are better there. It’s a chance for a fresh start for us all.’

The priest placed his hands on his chin, his face pensive. He looked around at the three visitors, weighing them up. They were similar, but different. Ridley could see Freya’s guarded body language, and stern expression. She was the one to watch. The suspicious one who lacked trust. The old man knew Freya disliked him.

‘I thought as much. I’ve heard of such groups in the hills. I’ve had a good few people pass through here over the years and you hear these things. Maybe it’s true, perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for. Be on your guard though. This whole area is wild. It’s filled with those that banished and fled. The community doesn’t take kindly to anyone that is different. Especially those that don’t think like them.’

Ridley took another drink of tea, finishing the cup, and pouring himself more. He added two sugars, stirred and dipped in a biscuit.

‘How rude of me. Would anyone else like some more tea? Young lady. Freya. I notice you haven’t drank yours. Aren’t you thirsty, my dear?’

Freya stared at the priest, stone faced, silent. A grin threatened to creep from Ridley’s lips. It was there, waiting, but the old man did not want to provoke Freya.

‘You say you lost a friend. I’m sorry to hear that. Lord rest their soul. It’s always heartbreaking when we lose loved ones, but hopefully your friend is at peace now. May I ask what happened?’

Gaia spoke.

‘His name was Yann. We were attacked by rats in the castle at the top of the hill. He didn’t get away in time.’

The priest stood from his chair and leant forward, reaching over and touching Gaia’s hand resting on the table. The old man gripped it and stared at Gaia. His glare was heavy and unsettled her.

‘Grieve my child. It’s good to weep. Be reassured your friend is now in the arms of the Lord. If he’d opened his heart to Jesus and accepted him there’s a place for him with the righteous in eternity in God’s kingdom.’

Freya had been simmering, biting her tongue, trying not to let her anger boil over. Freya loathed Ridley and everything he stood for. She was playing along with the charade for the others, but could see the priest for what he was. The sanctimonious piety and sickening insincerity was choking Freya. She felt sick listening to the priest’s formality and pompous words. Ridley had wrapped himself in a blanket of authority, with a uniform of credibility, but he was a fraud. The collar meant nothing, a symbol of all that had plunged the world into chaos. Where was God in this world? Where was he when Yann needed him? God had stood by while the chosen ones ruined the world, abandoned them all to live like animals. If Ridley’s God existed he was cruel and indifferent, and let people suffer. God had abandoned the world to desolation and despair, and the community had banished God. This was the new world order. Freya’s anger and disdain erupted.

‘Yann didn’t open his heart to your god, or Jesus. He didn’t accept them. We didn’t have time to ask him seeing as your god sat back as our friend had his throat ripped out. You see old man, we kill to survive and sometimes we die as a result. That is the way we live now. It’s the world people like you have given us. We don’t need your god.’

Aran stepped in, eager to snuff Freya’s anger, and undo any damage caused. Aran and Gaia were both thrusting spear like looks at Freya.

‘Sorry, can I apologise for my friend’s outburst. It’s been a traumatic day for us all. We’re all feeling the loss of our friend. Freya apologise to Father Ridley.’

Aran continued to press Freya with piercing looks, waiting as she released her teeth from her lips. Freya put her head down and spat out a sorry. There was a silence, as everyone looked at her. She eased her head upwards, scowled and peered at Aran through the  edge of her eyebrows. Aran was furious. Freya had gone too far, but could not care less. Freya knew what she had to do and spoke again. This time in a softer voice.

‘I’m sorry.’

Aran lifted his stare, still frowning, and turned to the old man.

‘I hope you accept all our apologies Father Ridley. We aren’t well versed in your beliefs. They’re not taught in the community. We’ve been taught to mistrust your ideas, programmed to attack them and sometimes the instinct takes over. I know Freya didn’t mean to offend you.’

Ridley smiled, reached forward and offered his hand to Aran who took it and shook. The priest turned to Freya.

‘My dear, there’s no harm done. Believe me, I understand what you’ve been through. I know the community. I know exactly.’

There was a long pause as the priest pondered his next words, wanting to choose with care.

‘I’ve got first hand experience of the community and their ways. Now let’s forget this and say no more about it. We don’t want it to spoil our time together now, do we?’

Ridley held out his hand to Freya, hanging for a moment, waiting for her to accept his token of peace. Freya sat unfazed and defiant. Despite the apology the body language spoke otherwise. Freya still bubbled with anger and was trying to dampen the urge to explode again. Aran and Gaia continued to stare at their friend, but Freya ignored them, looking down at the priest’s outstretched hand. Freya waited, as the old man’s hand began to tremble, not through fear, but the ache in his arm as he waited for a response. Freya reached out and took it, gripping the hand as hard as she could. Freya looked at Ridley, her face blank, all emotion buried deep inside. Her voice was a bland, lifeless whisper.

‘I am truly sorry. No hard feelings.’

Freya and Ridley each let go. The priest smiled and stepped back, clasping his hands together and addressing them all, as though giving a sermon.

‘Why don’t you all get some rest. Those armchairs are comfy, if a little old like me. Me and the girls will prepare you all some dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us. In fact you’re welcome to spend the night. Please stay and rest and see how you feel in the morning. Then you can continue with your journey. Like you said, you’ve had a tough day and I can see that you all need some good food, wine and a decent sleep. You’ll be safe.’

The group were all too tired to question. Freya was on her guard, but this was wrapped in humility after the outburst. Gaia and Aran could see no danger from an old man and a few girls, however strange they may seem. Gaia sensed something. It was a place filled with secrets, but compared to the chaos outside it was a sanctuary. The church was secure and offered a roof to sleep under. That was something they all needed.

Gaia, Aran, and Freya settled down in the armchairs in the corners of the room. Gaia soon drifted off into a restless and troubled sleep, dreaming of Kali, the same dream as before. Gaia was in the windowless room with the sick odour of damp. She was in a chair talking to Kali. The conversation was intense, and Gaia had a strong feeling of fear. There was someone in the corner, hiding in the shadows. Gaia could sense they were there, could feel their presence. Gaia noticed as the light caught the faintest glimpse of their boots. They were the standard issue boots, but there was something familiar about them. It was the distinctive pattern, the battered shape, the wear and tear. Gaia recognised the boots, but could not think who they belonged to. Gaia fought to find where she had seen them, but could not. There was Kali’s face again, large, distorted and pressed into Gaia’s. There was water and Gaia was drowning, gasping for air, as the liquid flooded her lungs. There was a strong arm holding Gaia down as the water was poured into her mouth. Something covered her mouth. There was Kali’s face, and hand, reaching out. There was a feeling of panic, the fear of drowning, a desperate struggle for air. All Gaia could see were the boots, the familiar boots, but still she could not picture the owner, the person in the shadows.

16

Aran and Freya were at the table, the same seats as before. The room had darkened, the little natural light the narrow window provided had gone. The candles on the table were lit casting a faint glow around the room. Gaia stood up, stretched and yawned, and took a seat at the table with the others. Aran gave a warm smile, the pale light of the candles giving his face a much more colourful hue. Aran seemed to be recovering, his spirits lifting with his growing strength. The rest had done him good. Freya played with a fork, looking agitated and unsettled. The sleep had not calmed her troubles or temper. Aran spoke.

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘I did thanks, you?’

‘Great.’

Gaia looked at Freya.

‘And you Freya?’

Freya kept twirling the fork in her fingers, stabbing the table. Without looking up she forced a response.

‘I didn’t sleep much. I’ll feel much better when we get out of here.’

Ridley entered the room with a serving bowl. It was heaped with mashed potatoes, steam still gushing from them. He placed the tray in the centre of the table.

‘Good morning all. Of course I should say good evening. I trust you all slept well?’

Aran and Gaia nodded and thanked the priest. Freya grunted and continued her preoccupations with the cutlery. The three girls followed Ridley into the room, each carrying a serving dish of assorted vegetables. They laid them down on the table. Rebecca stood nearest to Gaia. As the elder girl reached over to lay down the dish Gaia noticed her wrists were scuffed with deep, dark purple and yellow bruises. Rebecca stepped back and pulled her sleeves down, with a nervous glance at Gaia, and look of alarm in her eyes. Gaia looked across at Freya who was staring back, a knowing expression on her face.

Ridley took his seat and the young girls left the room, returning with more food and a jug of wine. Rebecca placed a plate in the centre of the table with a roasted bird on it. Ruth laid a large gravy bowl to the left side of the priest, and Mary the decanter of red wine to his right. All three girls left the room, and Freya spoke.

‘Are the girls not joining us?’

‘No, they ate earlier. They’ll go to their rooms and do some study. They read the Lord’s book each night.’

Freya continued to question the priest.

‘They don’t talk much, do they?’

The priest stood up, took a large knife and fork from the table. He began to carve the bird, responding to Freya as he eased the knife back and forth.

‘They’re quiet girls. They all had troubled lives before they came here. They’re not my own children, though I look after them as if they were.’

Ridley continued to slice layers of flesh from the bird, placing each fresh slice onto a side plate. His face was intent, total concentration, never looking up from his task as he spoke.

‘When they came to me they were lost and alone, deeply damaged. The poor things. Their parents had lived perilous lives. They were desperate for support, for love. That’s what was missing from their lives, love. I offered to take them in and save them. Give them all the love they needed. God’s love.’

The priest paused, the long carving knife still pressed against the remainder of the flesh.

‘It’s been a challenge. Each day we seek forgiveness for their sins through prayer. Each day we study the word of God, and the teachings of his son Jesus. Each day their hearts grow strong again. But each of them has a long road ahead before they find peace and salvation. We all do, it’s the journey we have to make. It’s through that journey that we learn the truth.’

Ridley sat back in his seat, and gazed at the feast before them. He opened his arms and looked up at his guests.

‘I know you think you don’t have God in your hearts, but may I ask that we put our hands together in prayer and thank the good Lord for the food he’s given us.’

Ridley waited. Aran and Gaia looked at each other, both hesitant and unsure. Sensing their  confusion, the priest pressed the palm of his hands together. Aran and Gaia copied him. Aran glared at Freya who did the same. All four paused for a moment, the warm, red glow of the candlelight flickering in their eyes. The priest closed his eyes, Aran and Gaia likewise. Freya did not. She stared across at Ridley as he bowed his head, her face burning with simmering rage. There was a look of peace and tranquility spread across the old man’s face, the same look as the man on the cross. It was a knowing calm, as if nothing could hurt him, despite all the pain. The priest spoke in a hushed voice, not quite a whisper.

‘Dear Lord, we thank you for the gifts of your bounty which we enjoy at this table. Gifts you have provided for us in the past and our times of need. We thank you for our guests and wish them a safe passage as they continue their journey. While we enjoy your great gifts we spare a thought for their friend who sadly is not here to savour your grace. But we know you will take care of him in your great kingdom. Thank you Lord. Amen.’

Ridley opened his eyes and lowered his hands. Freya was still glaring at him. She too placed her hands on the table. Aran and Gaia remained still, their eyes closed, hands clasped in front of them in prayer. Freya kicked Aran under the table as the priest spoke.

‘We’ve finished. You can open your eyes again now. Thank you.’

Gaia looked at the food spread before them, a banquet she had not seen the likes of before. Aran kept the conversation ticking over, keen to placate their host and make up for Freya’s rudeness.

‘Thank you for this. It looks delicious. You clearly enjoy your food.’

‘What pleasures are there left in this world? It is the simplest of things to enjoy God’s gifts. We seem to have forgotten all that is still to enjoy.’ 

They helped themselves to the food, as Ridley poured each a generous glass of red wine. The priest passed around the gravy insisting they poured ample. The old man raised his glass.

‘Please join me. The wine has been blessed. Now let us drink.’

The priest took a long drink, watching the others as they followed. They ate, the food was good, grown by the old man and girls in a plot of land at the rear of the church. The bird was a chicken, procured from the village nearby. Many local people would meet there. It was a trading point where you could pick up basic items, and trade for food. The priest was resourceful, the cupboards seldom bare and the table always blessed with the finer things that remained.

The initial conversation was warm and jovial, with Ridley pleased to have guests. It was a rare event and he wanted to make the most of it. Aran and Gaia enjoyed the company, and the chance to eat in comfort. Freya was polite, but Gaia could sense her tension. Gaia was troubled by the bruises on Rebecca’s wrists, but for now put it to the back of her mind, determined to enjoy the meal.

Soon the conversation turned to their past, of the island and the escape. The priest sat and listened as Gaia and Aran filled in the details, Freya offering the occasional nod and grunt. Everyone but Freya was chatty, but even Aran and Gaia were still guarded. They only gave the old man enough information. Freya continued to eye Ridley, and Gaia could see she was weighing him up. Freya’s mistrust was plain to see, and after a few more grunts Freya spoke.

‘What about you Father Ridley? You said you’ve had experience of the community. Tell us more.’

Ridley laid down his knife and fork, and took a sip of wine. He leant on his elbows and played with his lips. The others waited, unsure of whether he would respond. Freya had hit a nerve, poked at something uncomfortable, as had been her intention. After another longer drink of wine the priest spoke.

‘The community is a godless world. They fear everything, even each other. Myself and others like me tried to make them see that only through God’s word and love could the world move forward. We had an opportunity to make amends. The old world lost its way, became blinded by science and money. They lusted after greed and progress. They walked in the wilderness and took the hand of Satan, and look where it led us. They abandoned God and he punished us. But some of us survived. This was God giving us another chance, as he had done before. It was a chance for us all to be born again. The community could’ve taken that chance and embraced God and Jesus, but they feared and condemned them. The community feared the truth. So they banished us, persecuted us. I got out, escaped, just like you. Before they could punish me. Some of the others were not so fortunate.’

The priest paused and filled his glass, taking another long drink. His hand was shaking, as he placed the glass down on the table and stared at Freya.

‘There are those in this world who cannot find love within their hearts. But without love the world is full of hate. The community is filled with that hatred, it breeds it. There are many I see who carry that hatred within them. Cast it out. Whatever you’re looking for find God’s love. If you don’t you’ll also walk in the wilderness. But you must look for it. If you try to find God he will find you.’

Freya stared back at the priest, playing with her food. Their eyes were locked, neither wanting to break free or look away, not even a blink. Freya picked up a knife and began to spin it in her hand. She spoke, her voice calm, but with an ominous almost threatening tone.

‘We’ve been through a lot. More than you will know. My head is spinning with those older and wiser than me telling me what’s right and wrong, and what I should and shouldn’t do. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this god you have found has the answers, but I’d like the chance to find those answers for myself. We all do. That’s why we left.’

Freya kept spinning the knife on the palm of her hand, twisting and twirling it between her fingers. She continued.

‘All my life I’ve been told what to think, what to feel, and what to do. I guess what I’m saying is those days have gone. Now I make my own decisions. I’ll make some bad ones, but they’ll be my mistakes, no one else’s. I’m no longer living my life for others.’

Freya stabbed the knife into a piece of chicken. There was an uncomfortable silence. Aran and Gaia looked on, each wanting to step in, but neither sure how to respond. They agreed with Freya and the Father needed to know that. The young had been let down by those that went before. The future was meant to be for them, yet still the leaders controlled them. The elders did not want to let go. The priest shuffled in the chair, his stare had softened, eyes drifting around the room. Freya knew she had rattled the old man, and decided to move onto another topic that intrigued her.

‘This Jesus you talk about. He was the son of this God you say. I’m curious about this.’

Ridley sat up, surprised, a look of pleasure lit up his face. There was a moment of joy that Freya had taken an interest, and the priest was keen to enlighten his guests. The old man stood and moved to the wall, leaning beside one of the numerous crucifixes. He surveyed them all and pointed to the figure of the man hanging from the cross. The priest puffed up his chest, brimming with a sense of pride and adopted his sermon persona.

‘This is Jesus Christ, the son of God. He was sent to us by his father to show us all a new way, because God saw the world had become lost and was full of sin. Jesus was crucified by the Romans, and betrayed by the sons of Israel, his own people. Jesus died for all our sins, but was resurrected and ascended to his father. He died and was resurrected to save us. God did this to save us, to show us the measure of his love and remind us of his word. My faith in the resurrection is what makes me who I am. God has shown himself to me and I know this faith to be true.’

Freya frowned and continued to press.

‘When did all this happen?’

‘It was over 2,000 years ago, in Palestine, a place many miles from here. It’s all written down and documented in the Bible. That is the word of God.’

The priest moved to a bookcase, took three copies of the red book and passed them around.

‘Open the book. Look at the sections written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They all capture the life and words of Jesus. They’re words of love and compassion.’

Freya and Aran opened up the red books and began to thumb through the pages. Gaia continued to eat her food. She had seen the words of the book earlier, and had no desire to read more. Freya stopped at a page, a smile on her face.

‘Here’s an interesting one. It’s Matthew ten, twenty one. It says, ‘
And the brother shall deliver the brother up to death, and the father the child: and the children shall rise up against the parents, and cause them to be put to death.‘
I must admit I like that.’

Ridley looked uncomfortable, trying to respond but Freya continued before the priest could answer.

‘Oh and look at this other passage further down the page, ten, thirty four ‘
Think not that I come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.’
Now that’s what I like to hear. Maybe he’s not so bad after all this Jesus.’

The priest interrupted, hearing enough.

‘Those words are out of context. Jesus was love, and spoke of the importance of love. Look in John chapter thirteen, verse thirty four. Jesus says, ‘
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another.’

Freya twisted her face, a mocking look of confusion. Her voice was filled with sarcasm.

‘I’m confused. Which of those do I believe? They seem a bit contradictory to me.’