Chapter 8

It was, what, nearly two weeks later that Karen and Gillian were once more on board Tranquillity. Saturday afternoon, and the English summer was proceeding as usual with a thunderstorm; we were in the cabin with lights on, for goodness’ sake – lights in mid-afternoon in August. The noise of the rain and the rumbling of thunder concealed the sound of shoes on the deck, and the first notice we had of a visitor was a tentative...

“Rick?” from Suki, dripping, soaked to the skin, looking in the hatch from the cockpit.

“Suki?! Come in – come in! Good God, girl, you’re soaked!”

There was a tense silence all round as Suki stepped down into the cabin and we all looked at each other. For myself, I got up and dug in a locker for a large, dry towel. I handed it to her. “Get in the head ... the toilet ... and get out of that wet stuff. Get dry, and I’ll see if I can find something for you to cover yourself.”

While she was doing that, I called Dulcie and told her what little I knew.

“I was afraid of that,” she responded. “It would be best, I think, if I collected her and brought her here to the Rectory. What do you think?”

“Oh, definitely. Thanks, Dulcie!”

When Suki emerged, in cotton pyjamas with the sleeves and legs well rolled up, I had the kettle boiling and made us all tea. We were all sipping at it when Dulcie’s Zafira rolled into the yard, not that we knew it for the noise of the rain, until we heard her steps on the deck above. She clambered down into the cabin before asking, “Permission to come aboard, Skipper?”

“Of course, Rector!” I could be formal too.

I need to explain something here. If I can. Dulcie is special. She would say, ‘it’s not me, it’s God in me’ or something of the sort, but I can’t discount her personality – her ‘presence’.

She looked round the cabin and her eyes settled on Suki, who shifted uncomfortably, then burst into tears. But Dulcie stretched her arms wide, and Suki must have flown across the cabin, because suddenly she was wrapped up in Dulcie’s arms, sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dulcie was patting her on the back and her lips were moving silently.

I felt a hand on my shoulder – but there wasn’t room behind me – and a voice murmured in my ear, “All will be well.”

“Julian of Norwich,” I said, and Dulcie’s eyes flicked to mine momentarily.

“Yes. A friend. A sister,” the voice said, a smile clear in it.

“I think you’d better come to the Rectory,” Dulcie was saying, then, looking at me, “have you something to put wet clothes in?”

“Sure.” I rummaged around and found a dry-bag, which is really for keeping dry things dry, but would do for the reverse, at least in keeping Suki’s wet things from soaking Dulcie’s car.

Shortly after, the rain eased for a few minutes, and Dulcie steered Suki out of Tranquillity, across the slippery plank and to her car. I didn’t watch them once they were safe on shore, just went below and dug out the Ludo board.

When Gillian took Karen home in the early evening, she was frowning a little and gave me an odd look, but said goodnight pleasantly as Karen insisted on giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

At the weekend, we were slap-bang in the middle of an anticyclone, and the jet-stream was to the north, so temperatures were in the thirties and I for one was dripping with sweat. Not much point in sailing without wind. I suppose I could have motored off and anchored in some creek; it would have been cooler on the water anyway, but I decided to ride Brian the seventy miles to the Shuttleworth Collection at Old Warden – antique aircraft. Airworthy antique aircraft. If nothing else, pottering along on Brian I’d at least get a cool breeze. I checked on the website – a good idea, as passes for special events are best obtained online – found it was a flying day, bought a pass and printed it off on the tiny printer that was all I had room for. Flying days are popular, and on Brian I was able to squeeze past the queues. I’m sure that causes some irritation on the part of the queuing drivers, but on a bike, if you’re not moving there’s no air-con!

It was a good day. A very good day. Old Warden is an old grass airfield; the airstrips have extensions (not always available) for aircraft which need more room. In the flat calm, a Bristol Boxkite replica staggered into the air and hopped a few yards before touching down again. An original Bleriot XI from 1909 flew, and a 1912 Deperdussin, not to mention other Great War aircraft and ‘tween wars civil machines. In short, I thoroughly enjoyed myself and the day was topped off by several folks asking about Brian as I was getting ready to leave.

Seventy miles – nearly three hours – cruising along, cooled by our self-generated breeze. Put Brian in his kennel with a pat on the headlamp and a muttered ‘thanks’. Put together a salad, ate it, went to bed.

Sunday morning, still flat calm, with that cool haze that predicts another hot day. Brian? Or church? If I went to church, I’d probably meet Suki; did I want that yet? I chewed it over as I sipped black coffee while it was still cool enough to enjoy a hot drink and ate my bacon sarnie. I’d about decided to take Brian out again when my phone bleeped.

“Hope to see you in church this morning. Dulcie.”

Oh, well...

Church had never been anything I wanted, really, and I wasn’t particularly thrilled about the idea of going, but somehow, when I was there, there was something about it that drew me. I went.

Sat, as usual, near the back. Dulcie walked past, smiled. Suki came to me. Something different about her. Calm ... serene? Smiling. “Just wanted to thank you, Rick. Can we be friends?”

“Why not? Sure.”

Smiled even wider. “Thanks. I won’t be a pest, now. I promise.”

“Mister Rick!” Karen. Gillian in tow.

“Hi, Karen! Going to keep me company?”

“Okay!” Gillian, though, seemed a little uncomfortable.

Suki touched her on the forearm. “I’m going to sit with Liina and little Peter. You aren’t interrupting.”

Gillian’s face cleared. “Go on, then Karen. Thanks, Suki.”

So there I am, sitting next to Karen, with Gillian on the outside at the end of the pew. A familiar presence on the other side of me ... but when I looked, there’s no-one there.

Looking around more than usual, I could see Liina’s blonde head near the front, next to Suki’s dark one. Then Dulcie appeared in her robes, elaborately embroidered, and a young man in a white outfit and blue scarf. The service began.

It was, I suppose, an unexceptional act of worship, at least in form. I wouldn’t know, except by hearsay; it’s formal, structured – the music mainly organ, metrical hymns. I know Dulcie introduced more modern songs, but not regularly. Somehow – it’s hard to put into words – the whole was greater than the sum of the parts, and I was carried along, intensely aware of the presence beside me. Both sides, if you must know.

At the appropriate point I was impelled forward in order that Dulcie and my unseen companion could lay hands on me – one on the head, the other on a shoulder. Warmth and peace spread through me. Perhaps ... did I want to be a part of all this? What did I believe?

Soon enough it was over and we were drifting back into the little extension at the back of the building to drink indifferent coffee. Suki looked to be comfortable here – she was sitting with Liina and that young man who was at the front with Dulcie. I found myself chatting with Paul Meadows and his pretty wife. They were interesting. When they left I looked around. Gillian and Karen had left – I didn’t see them go – and Liina was carrying young Peter and following Suki out past Dulcie.

Nearly everyone had gone, so I decided to leave too; Dulcie smiled as she shook my hand.

“You see? Nothing to worry about. Come back for lunch with us?”

I thought for a moment. “I think not, though I thank you.”

Brian was due for his next service, so that week I rode up to Clacton – there are two Royal Enfield dealers not too far from Maldon, but roughly equidistant. Clacton is probably easiest, but it’s still about forty-five miles of mostly minor roads, and involves passing through Colchester. Least said the better there. While he was being dealt with, I got a bite to eat in a little café I know nearby and, as often happens, fell into conversation with another biker.