Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
They may not mean to, but they do - 41. Epilogue
“I hope it works.”
Thomas, Nico and Nico’s wife all laughed; Keith had been saying variations of the same thing for the last thirty minutes.
Alison’s school was having a small exhibition devoted to Michael Atkinson. Charlotte, Therese, and the school’s archivist had all come up with a remarkable amount of material about the artist and about the other artworks in the school. The focus of the event was as much about Alison’s project to continue the momentum and restore more art as it was about the Atkinson figure. And the spotlight was off Keith, he could simply relax. Once he knew that the Atkinson figure worked. Nico, by contrast, was completely cool and content to sample the refreshments on offer.
With Nico and his wife to chat to, Thomas and Keith had a prime excuse to watch the assembly without having to socialise unless they wanted to. Thomas was happy as he did too much glad-handing as part of his job, and Keith was content to watch. There was plenty of activity to keep them occupied.
They had already seen Greg and Bart, along with Alison, and Alison had introduced Greg as her current favourite person. This was said with a smile but was a reflection on Greg’s commitment that his firm would be one of the sponsors for planned work on the restoration of a ceramic plaque that was part of the fabric of the school. Keith had never heard of the artist, which meant he would have to look them up. Alison’s delight was both for the financial support but also the fact that Greg’s firm coming on board was a good signal to other local firms to support the cause. She was also jubilant because their planning application had finally passed, the ‘wretched plaque’ was Listed, and they had required consent to move it to a more suitable location where it could be protected from the elements.
Conversation with Greg and Bart was quickly interrupted as they were whisked away to meet someone else. But Keith turned, to find that whilst they’d been engaged, Nico’s wife had been busy, and she presented them with a plate of canapes which she’d been able to snaffle.
They had noticed Jonty there, taking photographs, which wasn’t surprising. His photographic project based around the Atkinson was going down well and would feature in the students’ final year show at his university. And all the paperwork seemed to be in place for Jonty to take pictures of YAFA projects, even the kids (with parental consent), so they’d probably be seeing more of him.
But then Keith spied Jonty’s Mother, should he go and say hello to Mrs? Thomas thought so, and Keith rather agreed with him, best be nice to former clients as you never know when they might need you. But then Mrs spotted Keith and said something to Jonty. Before you knew it Jonty was there with his Mother and a large, grey-haired guy with rather sad eyes, who turned out to be Jonty’s Father. Somewhat older than his wife, they discovered that he was quite interested in the school and its art, evidently quite knowledgeable about the artists of the 1950s and 1960s who were involved in decorating the building.
But there was something else as well. Jonty had a package in his hand and nervously presented it to Keith. It was by way of a thank you for introducing him to Alison and recommending him. His Mother proudly added further information about the forthcoming show. The package was one of Jonty’s photos, nicely framed. It was one taken at Nico’s and featured a close-up of Keith’s hands. He laughed when he saw it, but Thomas commented that it would look good on the wall of his flat. He was beginning to assemble quite a collection of images, perhaps he should think about buying another one of Jonty’s. Duty over, Jonty stopped to chat to Keith and Nico, or perhaps it was just an excuse to help himself to some of the plates of food! Thomas having spied Alison in the distance, they took Jonty’s parents off to meet her, hoping to capture Jonty’s Father’s interest in the school.
Alison was just about to start the official speeches when Keith caught a glimpse of Nate and Caroline across the room. It was just a glimpse at first, but then clearer and Nate gave a clear wave. So, it was them, why had they come? The speeches were not uninteresting, but Keith was curious about Nate.
He and Thomas had already discussed Alison’s project to continue restoration and felt they’d like to support it in some way. Having supported the Atkinson in kind with Keith’s time (they’d decided that Keith would not submit a bill, and Nico had been very generous too), they would have to find another way to help continue support.
Finally, the chairman of the Governors thanked everyone, the waitresses reappeared and there was movement. Nate and Caroline materialised.
“What are you doing here?”
“A nice way to greet us! We’ve come to support my favourite brother and his partner”, but Nate had a smile on his face (and of course, Thomas was his only brother).
Caroline continued, “Nate had a diocesan meeting in Leeds, so it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. The Atkinson looked good, didn’t it?”
Both Nico and Keith beamed, but it was Thomas that replied, “He’s been nervous that something would go wrong, but of course with these two involved”, indicating Keith and Nico, “what could wrong?”
There was general movement, Nate saw clerics he knew and wanted to speak to, Isobel Bonner came to say congratulations to Keith, and they managed to get to Charlotte and chat to her about the display. They were chatting to the school’s archivist, who had explained that she was an English teacher with an interest in art of that period, so she had the job, when Nate and Caroline reappeared.
Thomas suggested the four of them might have a meal, but Nate was worried about driving home afterwards when Keith had an idea. They could stay, in Thomas’ flat and Thomas could stay with Keith. They had plenty of supplies at home for a cold supper.
Caroline looked at Nate, “Do you have anything important first thing tomorrow?”
Nate shook his head, “Not that can’t be rearranged, and you?”
Caroline smiled, “No meetings, and they owe me hours in lieu, so I might take some.” She turned to Keith, “I think that means that we’ll take you up on your kind offer.”
Thomas exclaimed, “Shit!”
Keith was immediately concerned, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure whether I have any clean sheets.”
Caroline laughed, “We’ve had far worse on camping trips, so don’t worry there. Simply having a mattress within staggering distance of a bottle of wine, without worrying about the car, will be delightful.”
Of course, it took time to leave. And Alison suggested that they arrange a date to meet for a meal soon, a posh meal. They agreed, and Thomas left himself a message on his phone as a reminder. Jonty’s parents were keen that Keith and Thomas come round for a drink and to see Jonty’s finished portfolio in a couple of weeks, which was an interesting development or rather scary, depending on your point of view, and Keith hadn’t decided this yet. For a start, he’d have to learn to remember Jonty’s Mother’s name, and not call her Mrs.
But finally, they were sitting in Keith’s flat, with Caroline admiring his pictures, the one of Ghana from Thomas, the ones bought at Leeds Art Gallery, and now Jonty’s photograph. As Thomas said, quite a collection.
Nate was simply laying back, relaxing with a glass of wine. Thomas and Caroline had quickly sorted the bedding situation and brought some supplies from Thomas’ fridge and now Keith was unwrapping stuff from his fridge. The leaflet for Norton in Harmony was lying on a table, along with some of the song sheets; Keith had indeed been practising.
Thomas saw Nate pick the leaflet up, “We’ve joined a choir.”
“Both of you? That’s great. So, Keith sings too?”
“Well, Keith’s never been in a choir before but it’s a community one so the stuff they do isn’t that different from the choir I sang in before. The music’s different, but not the concept.”
Keith brought the food out, “I sort of fancied giving it a go, and we thought it would be nice to do so something together.”
Thomas grinned, “And he was too windy to do it on his own!”
They laughed, and the arrival of the food moved them on to more pressing things. There was a feast of cold food, cheese, cold meats and salami from the Polish deli and a selection of other bits and pieces.
When they had settled, Nate cleared his throat, “I’ve had a couple of enquiries from people wanting to write about Dad.”
Thomas spluttered, narrowly avoiding spraying them with wine, “Write about Dad, serious?”
Nate nodded, “He might have been an old bugger to us, but he was highly regarded in the Church, well perhaps I should say highly regarded by his contemporaries, I’m not sure about younger men and some of his views on women priests were positively antediluvian.”
“So, are you going to be helpful?”
Nate wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think we should be unhelpful, but…”
“You’d like to be”, Thomas smiled. “Look, I’ve no problem with people writing about Dad, it’s going to happen, and I’ll just have to accept that my view of him and the church’s view are different.”
Nate took a big swig of the wine, “Well, it struck me that I might want to contribute my ha’penneth.” Thomas’s eyes widened and he looked puzzled. “I was thinking of writing something myself.”
“What sort of thing, you mean a biography?”
Nate pulled a face and moved his head from side to side, “Not quite. A narrative of his work in the Church. I can get access to papers from various of Dad’s colleagues and such.”
“So, you’ve made plans?”
“Not plans, but before I asked you if it was Ok, then I wanted to be certain it was possible. That the information was there.”
“And… I can tell, there’s something else. What are you cooking up?”
“I wanted to include something from our point of view.”
“Family life, you mean?”
“The view from the vicarage”, Caroline nodded, “I think it’s a good idea. The trials of living with a saint!”
They smiled, “Perhaps not quite as pointed as that, but something in that direction and”, Nate looked at Thomas, “I was wondering if you’d write something. In the light of what we’ve learned, and the arguments you had with him. To show the other side of the old man.”
Thomas laughed, “Sorry. I do think it's an interesting idea, it’s just that Keith here has been trying to deal with all the issues from living with his Old Man, and we’d decided that it was a good idea if he wrote things down. Now both of us are going to be writing about our Fathers.”
Caroline looked interested, “You mean, as a memoir?”
Keith was alarmed, “No, no. My writing’s not very good. It’s therapy really, I write about things and then remember more, write about them. Like Thomas, there’s no-one for me to have a barney with, so I have to do something else.” Nate and Caroline nodded.
“To answer your question, Nate, I think your idea of is great. I know nothing about Church politics but will help all I can. And I will have a go a drafting something about my relationship with Dad. Are you going to write about him and you?”
Nate nodded, “Yes, I thought the three narratives, yours, mine and the sort of official view of Dad, would make an interesting mix.”
“Good therapy.” They all smiled, and conversation turned back to the evening events.
Sometime later, when Thomas and Caroline were tidying up the detritus, Nate came over to Keith. “If it would be helpful, I know a couple of people that you could talk to?”
“Therapists, you mean?”
“Well, one is, but the other has retired. She doesn’t officially take patients but she’s very good at listening to people. She’s a friend, I worked with her on some diocesan projects before she retired. All you’d do is meet and chat. Confidential and entirely discreet.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it and talk to Thomas but I’m pretty certain the answer is yes.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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