The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin (e reader books txt) 📗

Jacky and Paul the Porter emerged from the office, looking tired and bored respectively, I made a yelping sound.

They stared at me.

‘Hey, Lenni!’ Paul grinned.

‘What is it, Lenni?’ Jacky asked. The part of Jacky’s face where she really should have had a beak was set into a flat line of irritation.

I didn’t want them to take their eyes off me as, behind them, the purple lady climbed down from the edge of the bin and began her extremely slow getaway.

‘I … there’s a … spider,’ I said. ‘In the May Ward.’

Jacky rolled her eyes as though it were my fault.

‘I’ll get it for you, darlin’,’ Paul said, and they both walked off past me into the May Ward.

Now safely at the end of the corridor, pulling the envelope from her pocket, the old lady stopped and turned. Then she caught my eye and she winked.

To my great surprise, Paul actually managed to find a spider in the corner of the window at the end of the May Ward. I wondered if it was a biblical sign. Seek and ye shall find. He captured it in a plastic cup and held his hand over it and let us have a peek. I noticed that the tattoos on his knuckles spelled out the word ‘free’. Seeing the spider, Jacky told me to man up, and that if I wanted to see a real spider I should hang out in her back garden in the summer time when she has barbecues. Apparently, the spiders that live beneath her wooden decking are so big that if you try to trap them with a pint glass, their legs stick out of the bottom and end up getting severed. I politely declined the invitation and made my way back to bed.

Father Arthur’s latest pamphlet was lying on the pile of similarly tragic offerings on my bedside table. A different Jesus on each one. Concerned Jesus, Jesus with sheep, Jesus with a group of children, Jesus on a rock. Each more Jesus-y than the last.

I drew the curtain around my bed and got into my thinking position. Father Arthur said that he wished he could give people answers. I thought how frustrating it must be for him to be in a position where people constantly ask you questions you can never answer. Being a priest without any answers is like someone who can’t swim being asked for swimming lessons. And he was clearly incredibly lonely. I knew and had always known that I would not find the answers to anything behind those heavy chapel doors. What I had found instead was someone who needed my help.

It took a couple of days to draw up my many-pronged plan to get more patients to visit the chapel. I’d make some eye-catching yet mysterious posters, maybe even get a spot of media attention. The hospital radio station could probably be coerced into giving the chapel a shout-out. Instead of focusing on religion, I would emphasize the therapeutic nature of my chats with Father Arthur, and perhaps as a side note I would mention how cool the chapel is. The other patients would like that, because it seems there is some law that says hospitals must be kept just above a comfortable temperature at all times. Just hot enough so that you’re always a bit clammy. Not so hot that you can toast marshmallows.

New Nurse took me to the chapel, and to make sure Father Arthur was in a suitable mood for a marketing meeting, I peeped through the crack in the door. But he wasn’t alone.

Father Arthur was standing in front of a man in an identical outfit – the white collar, the smart dark shirt and trousers. As he and Father Arthur shook hands, the man wrapped his other hand protectively around their union, as though he were keeping it sheltered from cold weather or a strong wind that might tear them apart and undo whatever agreement was being made.

The man had dark eyebrows and dark hair. It was hard to tell his age. He was smiling. Like a shark.

‘Is there someone in there?’ New Nurse asked.

‘Yeah,’ I whispered.

It was then that the ageless man made his way to the door. I had just enough time to straighten up as the door opened to reveal Arthur and the man, staring at me.

‘Lenni, what a surprise!’ Arthur said. ‘How long have you been waiting there?’

‘You did it!’ I said. ‘You got someone in.’

‘Sorry?’ Arthur said.

‘You’ve got another customer.’ I turned to the ageless man. ‘Hello, fellow friend of Jesus, or Father Arthur.’

‘Ah, well actually, Lenni, this is Derek Woods.’

Derek held out a hand. ‘Hello,’ he said smoothly. I shoved my Save the Chapel project plans under my arm and shook Derek’s hand.

‘Derek, this is Lenni,’ Father Arthur said, ‘a frequent visitor.’

‘Lenni, it’s a pleasure,’ Derek said, smiling at me and New Nurse, who was hovering awkwardly near the doorway.

‘To be honest, I’m just glad that someone besides me comes in here. You’re the first person I’ve seen and it’s been weeks.’ Arthur looked at the floor. ‘So, on behalf of the Save the Chapel focus group, I’d like to thank you for making the chapel your religious destination of choice.’

‘The focus group?’ Derek asked, turning to Arthur.

‘I’m sorry, Lenni, I don’t quite follow,’ Arthur said, glancing at New Nurse.

‘It’s fine. I’ll tell you all about it in our next meeting.’ I turned to Derek. ‘I hope you feel better.’

‘Derek isn’t a patient,’ Father Arthur said, ‘he’s from the Lichfield Hospital Chapel.’

‘Hey, a bum on a seat is still a bum on a seat, and I have this plan to get some Christ—’

‘Derek has just agreed to take up the position here.’

‘What position?’

‘Mine. Unfortunately. I’m retiring, Lenni.’

I felt heat rise up in my cheeks.

‘But I would very much like to hear about your plans for the chapel,’ Derek said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

And then I turned.

And then I ran.

Lenni