The Recluse
Copyright© 2025 by Tedbiker
Chapter 4
Callie McPherson:
After talking to Rose-Marie, the impulse to have sex ... no! Make love ... to Robert weakened, but did not disappear. At bedtime, instead of following Robert upstairs and into the shower then, probably, his bed, I waved him to go ahead and, instead, sat in the lounge with my eyes shut. Prayer had never really been a part of my life and I wasn’t sure how to go about things. I sighed. “Oh, God.”
You can be sure I was shaken when I heard, somehow, “Yes, child?”
That took me aback, you might say, and it was several seconds, or perhaps minutes, before I spoke again. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It must be your choice, child. It was well that you spoke to Sister Rose-Marie.”
I absorbed that idea. “But I still have to make up my own mind?”
“You do. But the choice is not just whether to give yourself to your complement. And it is not just you who needs to choose.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps you should speak to Sister Dulcie.”
I realised then that there had been a sense of ‘presence’ with the voice even though I hadn’t heard the voice with my ears. I realised because the ‘presence’ ended as well as the voice. I stood, about to go to bed, when the phone rang. The land-line phone, a cordless handset in the entry hall. I went to answer it automatically.
As I’d been instructed, I answered with the number.
“Is that Callie McPherson?” A woman’s voice. One I thought I recognised.
“Speaking.”
“This is Dulcie Chesterman. We met quite recently. I felt I needed to call you quite urgently.”
“Oh! My. How...”
“Sometimes I feel that my God is telling me I need to do something, and you were at the front of my mind. I hope I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all. It’s just...” I stopped, but Dulcie didn’t jump in to speak. “I, um, something, um, I don’t know how to explain, but ... I was thinking of calling you.”
“Say no more! My Lord is in this, and I’ve learned to rest in Him. Callie, is there any way you could come down to Maldon? It’s Lent, and I’m quite busy with house groups, Lent courses, you see.”
Well, to be honest, I didn’t see. But I could understand how the Rector of a successful church could be busy. “I’ll talk to Robert. Probably in the morning.”
“If I can’t come to the phone when you ring, just leave a message. If you can come, there are several members of the church who can put you up. And Robert, of course. It might work for you to stay with me, but I can’t offer a place for both of you, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you, Dulcie. I’ll see what Robert has to say. We’ll be on a motorbike, though, so we won’t be able to bring much.”
“No problem. The Billings use a motorbike to get around, as well as a car. Just leave a message, as I say, if you can come.”
“Thank you, Dulcie. Goodbye.”
“The Lord bless you, Callie. Goodbye.”
The call ended, I went upstairs to do my night-time routine, after which I couldn’t resist slipping into bed with Robert. He was deeply asleep, but sighed as I spooned up behind him. I did not sleep immediately, by any means, but close to Robert I was, at least, at peace.
Robert:
She says I was deeply asleep, but at some level I knew when she slipped into bed with me, and the fact entered my dreams, not that I remembered anything other than being comfortable and happy – unreally so. But I know I slept very well, and was woken by a kiss on the cheek as Callie left the bed. I wake quite easily, usually, and slid out of bed and into the shower without any complaints. In the kitchen, Callie was busy with a pan. There was a scent of cooking bacon, but not from the pan.
“I’m grilling the bacon,” I was informed. “Better for your cardiac health.”
Dear God. I pick up a teenaged runaway, and she starts worrying about my cardiac health. I didn’t comment, even when a plate was placed in front of me bearing toast, scrambled egg and grilled bacon. It all tasted wonderful. As did the coffee.
She sat with her own plate. After a couple of slow mouthfuls she spoke without lifting her eyes from her plate. “I spoke to Dulcie Chesterman last night.”
“Yes?”
“She invited me to visit her in Maldon.”
“Oh?”
“I said I’d see if you would be willing to take me there, but if so, we’d be on a motorbike. She said ‘no problem’ as she has several friends who ride.”
“I see.”
Callie stopped talking at that point and made a point of eating her breakfast, if slowly. I didn’t respond immediately, but continued with my own meal. Before the silence became uncomfortable, I commented, “Unless you want to go in the next couple of days, I don’t see that’s a problem. I need to make some arrangements, but honestly, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a holiday myself.”
She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Thank you.” Then she met my eyes for the first time that morning. “I didn’t know how you’d take it. I think I need to go and see her. Rose-Marie said ‘Dulcie will help’. I don’t know how, but I want to try.”
I didn’t rush things, but caught up as best I could, bought a second large rucksack and removed the top-box from the back of the bike. Callie didn’t have a lot of stuff anyway, but I needed a few things like my laptop and power lead. I checked the bike over and booked a hotel in Maldon then planned the route. I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with East Anglia, one set of grandparents lived in Bury St Edmunds, but looking at the map I decided on a straightforward route. I wasn’t wildly happy about the fast roads I was going to take, but the alternative was even less satisfactory.
It was a Thursday morning when we left, after breakfast (Callie insisted on washing up the few items we’d used) and there was no point in rushing as the congestion in the city is dreadful until about ten in the morning. I had my rucksack on my front and Callie hers behind; I’d told her to make sure it was resting on the luggage rack. We were both dressed for the ride. A break after an hour at Ollerton, then another at Stibbington Diner on the A1 – decent food, dreadful instant coffee. Another stop just north of Cambridge, a precaution before joining the M11. The bike hummed along quite nicely at fifty-five to sixty, about the same speed as the speed-limited trucks. A couple of times I had to take our lives in both hands, speed up to seventy, to get past a slower vehicle. The A11 – a busy dual carriageway – joins the M11 south of Cambridge, and we met the first serious congestion there. I am not a fan of ‘filtering’ – that is, riding a motorcycle between two lines of slow or stationary vehicles – it’s potentially dangerous to me, and irritating to motorists frustrated by the delay. It’s not unknown for a driver to deliberately move to block the way. Filtering, I will say, is actually legal, as long as the traffic is not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. I’ve seen bikers filtering through much faster traffic than that, but as long as everything’s moving, I’m happy to go along at the same speed as everyone else. Two up, with our loads, I was less comfortable than usual, but the unmoving traffic and the sun on our protective gear meant I had to get on.
I felt Callie squeeze my middle a couple of times, but I don’t think I took any chances, and rolled along until we were past the worst and could settle back in the nearside lane at fifty. We passed the former RAF Duxford – now the Imperial War Museum, Duxford – and I vowed to visit at the earliest opportunity.
Half an hour – less, perhaps – after Duxford I’d negotiated the Junction with the A120 and we were passing Stanstead airport. (I decided to avoid the congestion associated with the Birchanger services, and we took a comfort break at a ‘rest area’ on the A120). The result of my comparatively leisurely riding was that we rolled along Heybridge Approach to the Blackwater retail park and the (fairly new) Travelodge a little after four. We parked and I secured the bike, then we checked in and called the Rectory to inform Dulcie we’d arrived. She was out, but we left a message.
Callie:
Four hours on a motorbike, broken up by four stops. It was a sort of an adventure, and I was travelling further afield than I’d ever done before. Quite exciting to ride up to the modern building which was the hotel Robert booked. Dulcie had suggested I stay at the Rectory. I wasn’t sure about that. But Robert knew about the offer. Robert checked in while I was letting the Rectory know we’d arrived. We were invited for an evening meal at six o’clock. That gave us time to relax and settle in. We set off for the Rectory at half-past-five, walking part of the way by the river, then crossing the park to reach our destination. The door was opened by a young woman.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.