The Prayer of the Night Shepherd

‘And you’re a faded old hippy full of pathetic, drug-induced conspiracy theories.’ Sebbie stopped at the pub door. ‘I’ll give you a question, now. Why did Berrows call to you for help? Why didn’t he call the police, hey? Give that some thought, I would, Mr Thomas, and be sure to hide your stash somewhere safe, because you can expect a visit in the early hours from the Dyfed-Powys Drug Squad. Good day to you.’

Then he went into the pub, and Danny saw the curtains twitching along the street and found he was shaking, like with cold turkey.

15 Milk into Concrete

When Merrily brought Dexter Harris into the kitchen, Jane had already made soup and sandwiches — not many big Sunday lunches in this household — and they’d shared them with Dexter, who at first was all shy and shambling, twice using his inhaler.

He ate steadily, glancing at Jane and occasionally at Merrily, something evidently on his mind. It took both cans of Stella to bring it out.

‘They, er, they reckons you’re the whatsit — county exorcist.’

‘Well, nowadays, they don’t…’ Merrily’s shoulders sagged. He’d have seen the movie on DVD — explanations were useless. ‘Yeah, kind of. Alice told you?’

Dexter shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he was expecting her to toss holy water at him, thrust a cross in his face, instructing the demon of asthma to vacate his system. Maybe that was a course of action Lew Jeavons might even advise.

In which case, one of them was in the wrong job.

‘It’s probably not what you think,’ Merrily said.

But what was she going to do? What did Alice actually expect of her? She smiled nervously at the big guy wedged into a dining chair with his leather jacket over the back. She felt worse than inadequate, she felt like someone recruited into a fraudulent enterprise, a trainee on a travelling medicine show.

And while the lager had loosened Dexter up, it didn’t make the situation any more promising. He was eyeing Jane now, and claiming that today was the first time he’d been inside a church since his christening. Tell the truth, he was only doing this to shut Alice up — her nagging him and his ma about it. Dexter lived at home with his ma and his younger sister in the Bobblestock area of Hereford. Useful to have somebody around if he had an attack, look. Also it was cheaper, and most of his girlfriends had their own flats or houses, so that was all right.

Suppose he had an attack here, what then? Merrily looked at Jane. If Dexter’s breathing changed rhythm, any laying-on of hands would take place only while they were waiting for the paramedics to get here.

Dexter started asking Jane which clubs she went to in Hereford at weekends. Jane named four, Merrily seriously hoping that she was lying. Dexter smirked at the last one, telling Jane he’d probably see her there sometime. Maybe he didn’t think of himself as being twice as old.

At about two-thirty, they heard a car pulling into the vicarage drive and Jane sprang up, conspicuously relieved.

‘It’s Eirion.’

‘Jane’s boyfriend.’ Merrily stood up, too, moved to the door of the scullery. ‘Let’s leave them to it, huh, Dexter?’

‘Boyfriend?’ Dexter looked like he’d been short-changed.

Merrily held open the office door. She was still in her dog collar and the Morning Worship kit, minus surplice, and this was probably for the best — too much informality could well convey the wrong impression to an overweight, dough-faced man of probably thirty-plus who seriously imagined someone Jane’s age could fancy him.

They went in and sat down, facing one another across the desk, like one of them had come for a job. On the desk: computer, answering machine, phone, Bible, sermon book.

Now what, Lew?

This… is at the heart of spiritual healing — taking the time to know people, making small deductions. How many doctors have the time or the patience to do that now — talking and considering and leaving time for small leaps of inspiration?

She had a cigarette half out of the packet when Dexter blandly shook his head, making wiping motions with his hands, his lower lip projecting like an outlet pipe. She pushed the cigarette back into the packet, wondering how he survived in the clubs. Putting the Silk Cut packet out of reach. We suffer, Jeavons had said.

An hour passed. It was growing dark.

Dexter was talking about the collapse of his engagement two years ago — how it had really knocked him sideways to learn that his girlfriend, Farah, had been seeing another bloke for months, apparently weighing up which of them was the best bet and then deciding, for some weird reason of her own, that it wasn’t Dexter.

Bitch. Made you stop trusting women, Dexter said. Made you want to start scoring a few points of your own. Dexter had hit the clubs. Shagger Harris, the foreman started calling him, down the tyre depot. Dexter grinned, looking down at the Bible on Merrily’s desk.

If we take the time to absorb what people are telling us about themselves, directly and indirectly, and we are in a suitable state of relaxation — a contemplative state — then the clues they come together and a feeling — or a word — sometimes drops into our minds.

‘How old are you, Dexter?’

‘Me? Twenny-nine, now. Soon be thirty. Yeah, I know I look younger.’

‘Nobody special since Farah? Just casual stuff?’

‘Just casual sex,’ Dexter said.

‘Doesn’t the asthma…?’ Merrily broke off, embarrassed.

Dexter wasn’t. ‘Naw, they reckons it’s stress brings it on, look. Well, I only gets stressed-out when I en’t having no luck. Most times I can go all night, know what I mean? Don’t get no problems that way.’ He smiled at her. ‘Funny thing, that, ennit?’

Merrily leaned back. ‘You don’t really think this is going to help you, do you?’

Dexter sniffed. ‘Like I say, if it keeps the old woman quiet, it’s something. No offence meant. I’m not much of a believer. Can’t help that, can I?’

‘No. If you try and force yourself to believe, that only causes… stress.’

‘Doctor says I’ve gotter avoid that. People gives me stress, I don’t bother with ’em no more.’

‘Do you remember the first one?’

‘You what?’

‘The first asthma attack you ever had.’

He shook his head. ‘Dunno.’

‘Do you remember how old you were? Or has it always been a problem?’

‘’Bout twelve, thirteen.’ He didn’t look at her. She felt a tightening of the air between them. ‘Do it matter?’

‘I was just wondering what might’ve brought it on. If there was a particular… emotional problem that might’ve caused it. I mean, I don’t know what Alice told you, but I’m not any kind of medical expert. I’m just looking for… maybe something we can focus on in our prayers.’

‘Prayers?’ He looked at her now. ‘Strange, a nice-looking woman like you being a vicar and going on about prayers and that.’ He looked down at her breasts. ‘You must’ve been quite young when you had your daughter.’

‘What do you think about when you’re having an asthma attack?’

‘Eh?’