Running on empty - 2

The words of a song came to her as she lay up against the heating pipes in the darkness of the Church. -

"Now there’s a wall between us, somethin’ there’s been lost,

I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.

Just to think it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
“Come in,” she said,
“I’ll give you shelter from the storm.” "

Walls. Signals. Memories. Promises.
Falsehoods.
She sorted through the emotions in the words and the patterns they made in her head and she let sleep take her into a warmer, more familiar place than the coldness of the Here & Now.
Sleeping rough was not the problem - it was the waking rough that perturbed her.
There had been so many times when ‘help’ had arrived and had offered a hand along the way. On occasion she accepted, but she still had a few scars, both mental and physical that still showed from the times that had turned sour, so she tended to shun ‘help’; It was always sex, ‘Care’ was way down the list.
Care was a memory.
Love was an alien.
Sometimes, just sometimes; there appears a genuine hand.

“Who’s there!?” The voice was strong and demanded an answer.
She lay herself full length on the floor trying to look like a pew but could feel the pipe against her bare leg getting hotter and hotter. Gritting her teeth she slowly started to twist her body.
“It is warmer in the Manse. Fancy a cup of tea? Come on then.”
“Sorry vicar.” She mumbled. “Just on my way. Sorry.” Lowering her eyes. She wanted no trouble. She stood up.
“I repeat. Fancy a cup of tea?” He smiled a smile that showed no malice and his eyes shone bright with something that eluded her.
Tea did sound nice. And she heard herself saying, “Thank you, yes. Yes please.”
“I’m the Vicar as you know. Come and meet Mrs.Vicar.”
“How do you know I know?” How could he know what she was thinking or what she knew?
“You were here on Sunday last. You sat at the back and listened intently. It was raining and it was cold and you sought shelter.” He smiled again.
“That’s right…” words came back to her – Shelter from the storm.
“I also know where you live.” He said amiably. Then hastily, “I haven’t been spying on you, I was going about my clerical duties.”
She smiled. “It’s ok. Though, what Clerical duties would take you to that forgotten corner of town? No one lives there.”
He shrugged. “The Church owns that corner of land. Has done for years. It was bigger, but we sold some to the railway company generations ago when they built the bridge. It has been a bit wild ever since. I go along and check it over every day or so.” He locked the door to the church and gestured across the green where a cottage sat back off the road and glowed with light from within. “Lets get that tea.”
Mrs.Vicar greeted them. “Saw you from the window, come on, it’s cold out there. Hi toots.” She kissed her husband fondly and ushered them into the wide warm kitchen. “Now then, sit here girl.” Indicating a seat by the range. “You must be frozen! Look at you with no coat!” Protest was futile.
She sank into the warmth of the chair that seemed to wrap arms of comfort around her. “You are kind, thank you.”
Without moving a cup of tea was produced and passed over. “My name is Gwen. Nice to meet you. Now that is the formal nonsense dispensed with. Where do you intend to sleep tonight?” She folded her arms and gazed down.
Before she could draw a breath Gwen interrupted.
“DO NOT tell me you intend to sleep in that hut.” An order.
“I won’t say it then. But it is what I planned.”
“Huh!. Arthur, talk to our guest.” She crossed to the kitchen area and began to rummage in cupboards.
His smile had not diminished. He kept it throughout. “Gwen tends to get a bit uppity about these things.” He settled into a chair that had taken on his shape and moulded itself to his frame. “There is a bathroom upstairs if you want. Please, feel free. The only thing I want you to know is, you will NOT be sleeping in that hut tonight.” Matter-of-fact.
He said more. He said they wanted her to stay. He said that they could offer work. He said they ‘cared’. He also said they had a duty…
‘Duty’, was something she knew about. She had being doing what she thought was her ‘duty’ for years… much good it had achieved.
To meet someone who readily admitted to having a Duty was different.
He talked. He spoke of his Stewardship. He spoke about words that had faded from her vocabulary, love was mentioned.
Throughout the talk she knew one thing. Truth is hard to find, she knew this to her cost, but she saw no lie in his eyes neither did she hear it in his words.
Later, as she wallowed in a hot bath she reflected on the offer. A bolt from the blue. From being destitute she was being offered employment and a better place to live in, And the chance to oversee the installation of a wild garden in the heart of a metropolis.

The sheets on the bed in the Guest room were crisp and clean and smelled of the wind and she slept.

Continued…