Penny

Chapter 24

James found the half-mile long walk to the church a struggle. By the time he arrived outside the church he was breathless. He stopped at the foot of the few steps leading up to the church doors to catch his breath. A bus passed behind him, clipping the kerb as it rounded the corner. James looked over his right shoulder as he clasped the handrail by the steps, instinctively following the bus with his gaze. He thought back to that night, that dark night in his life which had nearly been his last.

James's breathing not fully recovered, he turned to his right, away from the church doors. Slowly, he paced down the street. He turned to look at the cafeteria where Abigail's mother, Abi, had died sixteen years earlier. It was now in new ownership. James continued along the street pavement, stopping next to the alley. Abi had been there. Maybe that's where she'd overdosed on the drugs which had caused her death, James thought.

James then slowly turned around and faced the kerb where he had stood that night, when he had drunkenly decided to take his own life. He remembered himself standing there, feelings of desperate sadness overwhelming him, seeing no hope of ever escaping his misery. He shook his head. If he could talk to that man now, he'd tell him all the words Abi had said to him in the café that night. Things did get better. She was right. That poor woman.

James turned to walk back up the street when he suddenly began to feel dizzy. With his right hand, he reached out to the wall of the nearby building, but never seemed to reach it. Just then, someone grasped his right arm.

"Whoa there old man! You're OK," an American voice said.

"I'm...I'm sorry," said James drowsily. "Just had a bit of a turn there. I was just going-"

"To the church, I know," said the man. "Here, let me help you."

The young American man, who was wearing a grey trilby hat, placed one of James's arms around his shoulders and supported him as they walked along the pavement together, towards the church.

Inside the church, the man helped James to his seat at James's normal pew at the front right. James found the energy to kneel down, and began to pray.

The American man walked back up the aisle a little. Then, he stopped and tipped his grey trilby hat to a young woman sitting alone a few pews behind James, and gave her a small nod. Wendy brought her hands to her face, letting out a small gasp through her silent sobbing. She then nodded to the man in reply. The man in the grey trilby hat then took a seat on a pew at the other side of the aisle from her. Wendy stood up, and walked to the end of her pew and into the aisle.

James, his eyes closed and kneeling, prayed for Abi. He prayed that she'd find happiness in Heaven. He prayed for her daughter, his foster daughter, Abigail. He prayed that she would have a happy life. Then he prayed for Wendy.

Just then, a small girl of about five years old appeared next to James, at his left hand side. She leant forward, and kissed him on the cheek. It was Wendy. James, his eyes remaining closed and head bowed in prayer, didn't react, and little Wendy pulled back.

Walking back up the aisle dressed in her favourite sari and with a red bindi on her forehead, little Wendy was unsure. She hesitated and turned to the American man sitting in a pew to her right. He silently signalled her to carry on out of the church.

"Go on sweetheart," the American man whispered.

Wendy walked hesitantly back up the aisle towards the main doors which opened to the street outside, all the while looking back at James, who still appeared to have his head bowed in prayer. Wendy arrived at the church doors and stopped. She watched as James slowly looked up and gazed at the flickering candles on the stand before him. He touched his left cheek.

James thought he'd imagined the feeling of a kiss on his cheek. But the more he thought about it the more he became convinced it had been real. He turned to his left, no-one was there. He looked back at the pews behind him, they were empty, even the American man was gone. Just then, he caught a glimpse of a little girl with long blonde hair, just as she was leaving through the main doors at the rear of the church. From the brief glance James caught she looked just like Wendy, five years old and wearing a traditional Indian dress. James stood up, and began to walk slowly up the aisle. As he walked, his pace quickened, his breathlessness gone. He walked out of the church and into the night.

It was raining heavily. Standing on the street, James looked around in confusion. Soft melodic Bollywood music played, the song was Tum Se Hi. Probably coming from the nearby café, James thought. After a few moments he shook his head, saying to himself, "Stupid old sod."

James turned around and walked back up the steps to the front door of the church. He was just about to go back into the church when he became aware of a presence to his right. It was the little girl. It was Wendy. She was wearing a red silk Indian sari and holding a white rose. Overwhelmed with emotion, James knelt down. Little Wendy placed the rose in the breast pocket of his coat, mirroring the way he had secured a white rose in the shoulder strap of her dungarees in their garden years earlier. Then, before James could take in all that was happening, the little girl flung herself forward into his arms.

The Bollywood music grew a little louder, and little Wendy took old James by the hand, back down the church steps and onto the street. And there, they danced. James didn't know what was happening, or if this was all a dream. If it was a dream he wanted to cherish every moment of it until he woke up. As they danced, James noticed that little Wendy slowly grew up into a beautiful young woman in front of his eyes. But he didn't feel alarmed, indeed, he felt calmed. What he didn't notice, however, was that at the same time as Wendy was growing up before him, he was slowly transforming back into a young man again.

To the beautiful music and in heavy rain, the father and daughter danced past the cafeteria, and along the road.

The American man in the grey trilby hat got up from his seat on the church steps. He walked slowly along the road, watching the distant figures of James and Wendy as they happily danced away together. The man stopped walking when he was alongside the alley, and slowly took his hat off in a respectful manner. He turned to look to his left. Cafeteria staff and a few passers-by were attending a small form lying on the pavement.

Stephen paid his respects at the place of his son's passing, put his grey trilby hat back on, and continued on in the direction of the fading Bollywood music.