Sore Knees

Sore Knees

He came back into the church and saw a familiar figure kneeling in the last row of seats.

'Are you still here, Mrs Douglas?'

Father Patrick closed the main double door, sliding the bolt into position to secure the right hand side.

'They've been signalling again, Father.'

The old woman wrapped her rosary beads around her hand, unwrapped them kissed the cross and held it momentarily to her forehead, then lips, then chest.

'Ah, have they, have they indeed?' said the priest, his voice gentle, unsurprised. 'And what did they tell you this morning?'

'Oh Father, I can't tell you.'

'Oh no,' he said. 'Is that so? Keeping secrets, are we?'

'Oh no, Father, but they made me swear.'

The priest continued to tidy the hymn books onto the table at the end of the aisle.

'And it's still the same candlestick they are using, is it, Mrs D?'

'Oh yes, Father, the third from the left. The flame flickers. You'll have seen it, Father.'

'Morse code?'

'Well, Father, something like that?'

'Well maybe I should leave that one unlit, and then they couldn't bother you during mass. What do you think?'

'Oh no, Father, that would never do! How would they get their messages through?'

'Well, I'm sure I don't know, Mrs. I'm sure I don't know. I'll be locking up the church now, Mrs D. Is Derek coming for you?'

'Ah, no, Father, I'm walking home today.'

'Oh! Are you sure?'

'Yes, yes. I'll be fine. I've nothing to worry about today. Derek's gone to London to fetch little Millie, and they said they'd be fine. So I'm walking home.'

You'd be very welcome to come to the Presbytery for your lunch, if you'd like..?'

Father Patrick continued the invitation under his breath for only His Maker to hear

'...But please don't!'

She shot him a look full of foreboding.

'No, no, Father, no I will be fine...'

Well, can I help you up, Mrs D? Pauline will be wondering where I am. She's a stickler for punctuality.'

Another dark look shot his way. 

'If you'd be so kind, Father.'

The priest took her slightly proffered hand and allowed the pressure she put upon it. She rocked back a little, raised her bottom and rested it on the seat behind her. Then slowly pushed on Father Pat's hand and the back of the seat in front, transferring the weight off her knees until she was sitting back in the chair.

Father Pat saw the wince of pain cross her face as she manoeuvred herself.

'Oh dear,' he said, 'sore knees, Mrs?'

'Oh Father I mustn't complain...'

She shuffled her bottom on the seat, preparing to stand.

Again Father Pat saw the muscles around her mouth constrict, wrinkling her lips around a silent agonised cry. She glanced up at him.

'Sure Jesus suffered much more than I, Father.'

'He was a professional, Marjorie, that was his job.'

'Oh no, no! You naughty man!' said the old woman. 'What would the Bishop say?'

She allowed her mock shock to settle into a soft chuckle.

'So what were they telling you this morning?'

'Oh Father, they said... no I Mustn't, I can't!'

Oh, come on now, mother. If it's a message for me well they've chosen you to deliver it. Come on now – out with it.'

'But they'll be angry!'

'No they won't. Come on now.'

She cast her eyes around the empty church before signalling for the priest to lean in closer.

'It is about Pauline, Father,' she said, her whispered voice full of portent.

'Pauline?'

'Yes.'

'What about her?'

'They said... she's poisoning you.'

'Pauline? Poisoning me?'

'Yes, Father.'

'Oh dear, oh dear.' He couldn't prevent the smile that crept across his lips.

'It's no joke, Father. That's what they told me.'

'Ah so that's why you won't come to lunch!' He raised his hand to his mouth to pull the smirk from it.

Mrs Douglas just looked at him with searching eyes.

'I have to say I find it hard to believe...'

'Of course you do, Father, because she's such a good soul. We all know that. All the good things she does. The flowers. Cleaning the church. And with those bosoms...'

'Indeed. So why would she want to poison me, Mrs?'

'Oh Father, no! She doesn't want to poison you.'

'No?'

'No! She can't help it!'

'Right... right...'

'The old woman gripped his hand and pulled him close.

'She is being... controlled, Father.'

'Controlled?'

'Yes, Father.'

'Right... Who is... controlling her? Did they say?'

'Oh yes, Father. They told me, but...'

She stopped, looked at him intently. He could see real anguish in her eyes as she struggled to form the sentence.

'You won't like it, Father...'

'Won't I?'

'No, Father. You won't like it at all.'

'Oh dear. Well I'm prepared now. Come on Mrs D, hit me with it. Who is controlling my housekeeper?'

Her fingers tightened around his wrist again.

'The U.R.C.!' She whispered the words and again cast her eyes around the church.

'Really? The U.R.C.?'

'Yes, Father.'

'Right. And did they mention if it is the National Council of the United Reformed Church that have taken control of Pauline's mind? Or is it just the local congregation?'

'Oh Father!' She looked even more troubled. 'Do you think it might be Reverend Dalton?'

'Mrs Douglas, I hardly think...'

'Oh no! It's all my fault! It's all my fault!'

'Calm yourself, dear lady, calm yourself!'

'I shouldn't have told you. I know it! They'll be so angry.' She started to rock herself back and forth, screwing the rosary beads in her fingers and lifting them to her lips.

'It's all right, Mrs Douglas. Just sit quiet.'

'Father, oh, Father! What have I done?'

'I'll bring you a glass of water. I've got some in the sacristy. Just wait here, I'll fetch you some. Calm yourself. I'll be back in a moment.'

As he walked the length of the church he turned to see the old lady still rocking in her seat. He pushed his hand through the side slit in his cassock and into his trouser pocket. He clicked his phone to life and flicked quickly through to his contacts. By the time he reached the sacristy the ringing tone was answered.

'Yes, Father?'

'Hello, Derek... It's, er, Father Pat...'

'Yes, Father, I know.'

'Yes, I'm afraid it's your mother...'

'What now?'

'The usual, I'm afraid. She said you were in London though. Is that right?'

'No, no, I'm just in the Admiral. London was yesterday. I'll be straight round.'

'If you could. If you could.'

He hung up, poured a glass of water from the glass jug on the side table and carried it back to the woman.

She was calm now.

'Lovely flowers this morning, Father. She's done a good job this morning.'

'Pauline? Yes. A good job.'

'She's a good soul.'

'She is, Mrs D, she's a good soul.'

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