Remains of an Altar

roots of musical creativity, through Elgar and the Malverns. I have a degree in ancient history and anthropology, although I knew I was gonna need some help with the music.’

‘You had a new angle on this?’

‘I visited here, found Longworth’s church and also this cottage that was proving hard to shift off the agent’s books on account it was too small and the quarrying had left no place to extend and it was dangerous for kids and stuff like that. I could afford to buy, if I sold my apartment in London, which was what I did. And then, at a conference on Elgar at the Abbey Hotel in Malvern, I met Tim.’

‘Someone who could help you with the music.’

‘More than that. A whole lot more. Tim grew up in Sussex, near Elgar’s home there, Brinkwells. He’d always felt there was something between him and Elgar that was … going someplace.’

‘Creatively?’

‘Creatively, yes. Which basically was how he wound up in Malvern. In most other areas, around this time, I should tell you, his life was a mess. He’d split with his girlfriend, he was starting to drink too much and he was pretty close to getting fired from his job at the college.’

‘When was this?’

‘This would be just over a year ago.’

‘So you and Tim…’

‘Began to work together. To get this out of the way, I need to tell you that there’s no physical relationship. Situation was, there was someone else in my life at the time.’

‘Preston Devereaux?’

‘Stop.’ Winnie’s expression didn’t alter.

‘Don’t go there?’

‘On no account.’

‘OK.’

‘Tim’s parents live in France, and he was closest to his grandmother. When she died, he inherited a substantial sum of money. By this time, I’d researched the situation here, pertaining to this gentleman.’ Winnie gently tapped the tomb. ‘I drew Tim’s attention to a house that’d come on the market in Wychehill.’

‘Caractacus.’

‘It seemed too perfect. It’s an ugly house, but it’s in the right place, and I … I should’ve explained that Tim’s primary problem was an inability to reach the heights as a composer. He’d always written music, his knowledge and his technique were never in doubt. He taught with flair and sympathy. His original work was … of a standard. There was a barrier between him and … what I call the sublime. The fact that he could never get beyond that caused him intense emotional pain.’

‘But he bought the house…’

‘He didn’t want to know about the house. He didn’t want to see me. I gave up on him. A week later, he swallowed a bottle of pills with most of a bottle of whisky, walked out in the street and collapsed. I didn’t know about this, I’d been down in London, tying up the ends of my divorce and seeing friends. I didn’t know how close he came to death. I didn’t know anything about it until he showed up at my door, couple of weeks later, and said he’d had a dream, while they were fighting to save him in the hospital. Like The Dream of Gerontius. You listened to all of that yet?’

‘Twice. In my uneducated way.’

‘Gerontius dies. He’s an old man, not a young man like Tim, but no matter. Gerontius either dies or he’s in a deep coma. Whatever, he sheds the body load and loses the weight of his pain. And he meets with his guardian angel.’

‘A woman, in my version.’

‘It’s always a woman. So Tim arrives at my door – a moment I relive quite frequently – and he tells me that he now understands that I am his guardian angel.’

‘And how does he know that?’

‘From his dream. He says he awoke in hospital knowing it. And now he goes along with me. He buys the house and we meet with the Rector and Tim starts to play the organ in church – there was an old guy who fumbled his way around the keys, he was happy to let it go. And then, quite quickly, the choir was formed. People love to sing. They love to have the music drawn through them, like silk. The choir comes out of the three counties, building its reputation, refining its membership. It’s a fine choir, growing toward the sublime.’

‘So Tim has died and come through to a new level? His old life has dropped away, he’s in a new place, with a new—’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘This was what you meant when you said you believed that purgatory could be dealt with in this life. Tim is physically purged, with a stomach pump, and then—’

‘Gradually, I became aware of a pattern. A grand design of cosmic proportions. And I can see from your eyes, Merrily, that you’re sorry we got here.’

‘No, I— He hasn’t exactly stopped drinking, has he?’

Winnie Sparke stood up. Her face and neck shone with sweat.

‘Go deal with your kid, huh? You’re Episcopalian, and this is Catholic theology. You have an inbuilt antipathy.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Women priests … that’s a political thing. I’m not being … I mean, there’s no spiritual basis to it, right?’

Like she was the very first person to say that.

‘Is it part of your image, to come over as mercurial, Winnie?’ The heat was getting to Merrily’s patience. ‘Or are we simply approaching another area that you feel it would not be advantageous to get into?’

‘You’re not ready. You need to go away and consider this. I don’t believe you’re ready, spiritually, emotionally or intellectually, to feel the heat of the sublime.’

‘Whereas … you are?’

‘You have to excuse me,’ Winnie said. ‘I have things to do.’

37 Spiritual Malnutrition

A tractor and trailer were rattling past, down the lane from the track which led into the hills. Merrily climbed into her boiling car in front of Starlight Cottage and slammed the door, the mobile clamped tight to her ear.

‘Sorry, couldn’t hear for the traffic.’

‘I just said, she’s here,’ Lol said.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, the direct sun making a pulsing orange light show on her eyelids.

‘Thank God for something.’

‘And the piece in the Guardian…’ Lol said. ‘I’ll read it out to you.’

When he’d finished, she asked him if he’d mind reading it again. He read it again, slowly, while Merrily was opening all the car windows.

‘It could be worse, couldn’t it? She lied about her age.’

‘To make her an adult,’ Lol said.

‘And obviously her terminology –Philistine morons, for heaven’s sake. But the worst thing—’

‘She should have told you.’

‘That’s the worst thing, yes.’

‘It all happened so quickly, and you weren’t around. But she should have told you, and she knows that.’

‘I’m a lousy mother.’ Merrily leaned out of the window for more air. ‘I’ll come home. I’ll be home in an