THALIA - Bergotte (best book reader txt) 📗

it fully open. What met her eyes, when she turned once again to look inside the shed, was a scene of decay and rotting vegetable matter. She saw cobwebs everywhere. However, the shed itself, she realised, was not at all dilapidated. It was a strong, brick built structure, with a very hard concrete floor. The rotting matter had evidently been introduced to the shed from outside, by some human agency, a long time ago.

It was at this moment that Thalia woke from her dream and blinked several times in the darkness that confronted her.
“I saw that you had fallen asleep, so I drew the curtains so you wouldn’t be disturbed by any bright sunlight,” said David as he came and sat in an armchair across the room from his cousin.
“Thanks,” said Thalia, and proceeded to relate the story of the dream.
“Does the dream make you want to prophesy?” he asked, with no trace of mockery in his voice. Thalia realised that David was taking her seriously regarding the dreaming; something for which she was very grateful.
“Yes, it does. But I haven’t a clue what I’m going to say… or when… or where… for that matter.”

"I was thinking while you were asleep about violin playing. I have some friends, a married couple actually, who play violin and 'cello. They used to play in a string quartet when they were at college together. They might be prepared to join us, if you're willing."
"I'm quite willing, but I'm not sure I would be good enough."
"It's worth giving it a try isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Thalia, but she had little enthusiasm for the idea. She was quite frightened of the prospect of playing in front of people who were clearly much better instrumentalists.

“By the way, I often go to the Bell in Walcott Street, on a Friday night. They have live jazz there… trumpet, piano, bass and drums. I’ve arranged to meet someone there tonight. Do you fancy coming along?”
“Well, I don’t want to be home very late on my last night. I’m not sure. Added to which, I'm not old enough, remember? I'm only sixteen.”
“Can't you wear some makeup and make yourself look older? We don’t have to stay very long. Then I’ll see you home. Okay?”
“Yes, that’s okay, but I don't wear makeup. I don't possess any. I wouldn't know what to do with it if I had any. I am not the kind of girl to spend much time in front of a mirror. It rather bores me.”
"I'm sure you will be fine. The place is usually packed on a Friday night. I don't think the landlord will see anything of you. I'll buy the drinks at the bar. You don't have to drink anything alcoholic, either."
"No. Tomato juice will suit me."

It was almost ten o’ clock when Thalia arrived home. Her aunt and uncle made no comment, because David had accompanied her, leaving her at the front door. She went straight up to bed, reminding her uncle, on her way up the stairs, that he had promised to take her and her belongings to David’s flat, in his car, on the following day.

She lay awake for some time before going to sleep, wondering what tomorrow would bring. In the morning she rose early, at seven o’ clock and started to pack all her possessions in the cardboard boxes that her thoughtful aunt had left out for her.

She spent the rest of the day arranging her things, whilst David put together a makeshift bed that he had been keeping in the basement. He had intended to clear out the room and install this spare bed for the past four years. It suddenly dawned upon him, whilst constructing it, that he had no bedding to put on it; the pair rushed out into the city, late in the afternoon, to buy something.

CHAPTER IV

On Sunday morning Thalia went to church with David, ostensibly to meet his string-playing friends. Thalia was not used to being in church on Sunday and yet this didn’t feel like church because it was a large detached house, in its own grounds, situated on a main road. The service, which the participants called a meeting, took place in a spacious room on the ground floor, furnished with an odd assortment of chairs. It was led by a white-haired man, whom Thalia thought was very old. Before she sat down she counted the congregation; there were twenty-three in all. The enthusiastic hymn singing was accompanied by an earnest young man seated at an old, battered, upright piano. Thalia noticed that the rather long and rambling prayers, spoken fervently by the members of this tiny fellowship were improvised, not read from a prayer book.

At the end, over a cup of coffee, David introduced Thalia to his musical friends. “This is Andrew and his wife, Giorgia,” he said.
"Pleased to meet you," said Thalia, smiling at them both.

Andrew was a pleasant young man of about twenty-five. He was dressed in cord trousers and loose fitting cord jacket. He wore a bow tie and looked at Thalia through thick-rimmed spectacles. Giorgia was of similar age. She was tall and very thin, with long dark brown hair, swept back off her face. Wearing a long skirt and a floral patterned blouse, Thalia thought she looked quite pretty. Giorgia returned Thalia’s smile.

"I'm David's cousin," said Thalia.
“My cousin is staying with me for the time being. She has nowhere else to live at present,” explained David. Andrew asked her what she thought of the church service, but Thalia did not know how to reply.
"I haven't been brought up to go to church," she observed, "except for weddings, funerals and some baptisms."
"Ah!" replied Andrew, "we don't have many of those. We are a very small independent, house church."
"I've never heard of a house church before, what is it, apart from the obvious fact that you meet in a private house rather than a public building?"
"All of us meeting here do not respond well to institutional religion, with liturgy or set patterns of worship. We value our freedom."
"So, you make it up as you go along?"
"Yes, I suppose we do."
"Will you come again?" asked Giorgia.
"If David wants me to come, I'll come. I find it quite interesting and I have nothing else to do on a Sunday morning."

David talked with Andrew for a short while and then left with Thalia.
"Andrew is quite keen to play with Giorgia in a quartet, if you're willing," he told her, as they walked back home.
"Yes, let's give it a try."
"They are my closest friends. Would it be okay with you if I shared with them what you told me about being a prophetess?"
"I don't see any harm in it," said Thalia, "and anyway, I want to put it into practice, and actually do it. Then everyone will know!"
"When and where are you going to start?"
"Maybe now, on the way home. I thought the Abbey Courtyard would be a good place. It's a fairly big open space surrounded by buildings. My voice will probably carry quite well there."
"Don't you want something to stand on?"
No, I don't think so, at least, not to start off with."
"Have you worked out what you are going to say?"
"No, not really, I don't want it to be premeditated, but I have a few ideas that I want to express."
"Well, I'll stand still, acting as an audience," said David, "but what will you do if you're heckled?"
"I'll deal with it," replied Thalia, firmly.

When they reached the Abbey Courtyard Thalia stopped and looked around her. Not too many people here, she thought as she watched a crowd of tourists passing by.
"I'll try here," she said to David, "by these railings,"
"Okay, I'll move a few feet away and encourage you if needed.

Thalia drew herself up to her full height and launched forth on her maiden speech.

"The days are coming when many Western countries will face severe economic ruin and turmoil because the international banking system will collapse, bringing financial hardship to thousands of families at home and abroad. Politicians will make promises which they know they cannot keep. They will make alliances with power bases to maintain their own political power structures. These will involve short-term policies for short-term rewards. No heavenly saviour will appear on the horizon to rid the world of this terror. Listen carefully to what I am telling you and learn the truth about yourselves."

Some people did turn round to look at this rather strange sight, but none of them stopped to listen. When she realised that few people had heard what she was saying, Thalia decided that she would try again; she would repeat it all, slowly and deliberately, perhaps amplifying a few points, to make her message clearer. She took a deep breath and addressed those walking past. Some stopped and then quickly moved on; others stood still and listened. This gave her some encouragement. She felt a wave of emotion mixed with conviction, wash over her. As she warmed to her theme, she began to express her thoughts more vehemently.

David had noticed the change that had come over her and thought that he could recognise in this slender young girl, the potential to become a person who was mature in her outlook and careful in her judgements, someone who spoke with a steely passion akin to the Biblical prophets of old.
“That was very persuasive and impassioned,” he told her, when she had finished her address.
“People were listening,” she replied, “so, I am very happy to have taken the plunge, overcoming my nerves, formulating my thoughts. I hope that I didn’t seem too hesitant,” she added.
“No, not at all, at least, not the second time, when you really got going. Come on, let’s make for home now.”
“I would like to try once more, if you don’t mind. There are more people milling about now. I hope to draw a larger crowd who will stop and listen to me.”

David agreed, taking his place once again, a few feet in front of her. She saw a group of tourists making their way, with their guide, across the courtyard. She heard their laughter and speech, identifying them immediately, as Americans. She also heard some French accents among the passers-by.

Thalia was elaborating on the international banking system, when she heard an American voice in the crowd. She looked across at a young man, dressed in jeans and sweat shirt, sporting a baseball cap.
“What do you know about anything?” he shouted at her. Thalia was taken aback and a little put out. She thought quickly and then retorted, “I’m given what to say. I’m not making it up.”
“Who gives it to you?” the man shouted in response.
“I don’t know, but I do know it is not from me.”

The man joined the rest of his party once more and they moved away. Thalia continued her speech. No-one else interrupted her. Quite a few were standing in silence. “They are paying attention,” she thought, as she gazed in to the crowd of some thirty or forty people.
When she had finished, a middle-aged woman approached her. “What organisation are you from? Are you from a religious sect?”
“No, I’m a private individual, speaking on my own behalf. I don’t represent any religious or secular organisation, for that matter.”