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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Pachelbel's Canon
A relay story
24 June 2004
This four-part story was written by regular contributors to the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board, working in relay - one part each.
Part 1, by Anglo-Norman
Bishop John Pachelbel had known Cyril Hood for years. They had been at Theological College together - earning a degree of notoriety after the occasion when they had run round St Bradwald's College quadrangle naked for a dare - and had been firm friends ever since. That was why the Right Reverend Bishop of Longthurston was visiting his Felpersham equivalent at this time. He had brought his protégée - one Canon Philip Herbert - along with him to meet Cyril, in the secure knowledge that the latter had Canterbury's ear and might be prevailed upon to put a word in for Canon Herbert the next time an archdeaconry became vacant.
It was while they were talking that Bishop Cyril's secretary knocked and entered.
"I'm sorry, Bishop, but Reverend Franks is here to see you."
Cyril winced.
"Is he? Can't it wait?"
"I'm afraid he says not. I did tell him you were in conference, but ..."
"I know, I know" replied the Bishop despairingly. "Once the dog has the rabbit he'll not let go come hell or high water. John, would you mind?"
"Not at all", replied Bishop Pachelbel, clearly amused, ""I will be interested to see how you deal with your troops. I always thought you would be rather a ferocious master!"
The visitor was shown in. Alan paused, momentarily taken aback by the excess of episcopal purple, and then entered.
"Ah, Alan!" exclaimed the Bishop. "We have, as you see, company. Gentlemen, this is Alan Franks, vicar of Ambridge and associated parishes. Alan, I'd like you to meet John Pachelbel, Bishop of Longthurston" - how-d'ye-dos were exchanged - "and Canon Philip Herbert."
The Canon stuck out his hand, and a strange smile played around his lips.
"Hello, Alan. Long time no see, eh?"
Alan paused in shock, and his face visibly paled. "I ..." he stammered, "I ... didn't expect to see you here ..."
"You know each other?" said Bishop John, delightedly.
"Oh, yes," said the Canon, "we go back a long way, Alan and I."
"I, um ... I see you're busy. Terribly sorry ... better go," Alan managed to get out, though his throat seemed to have gone dry and constricted with terror. Nodding his farewell, he stumbled from the room and dashed into the open air where he leant against the wall, breathing heavily, his mind spinning. Not him, he thought. Not him, not now. What was he doing here! He couldn't be here. It was too dangerous. He knows too much!
Part 2, by Clint Driftwood
Bird song chorused high above him from within an ancient clematis that clung to the wall he was leaning against, but Alan Franks did not comprehend it. His ears were filled with the thunder of his rapidly beating heart. His breathing was erratic and laboured; perspiration magnified the sunlight and stung his squinting eyes. His mind was a manic kaleidoscope, images rebounded off each other, they merged, refracted and then reformed in a hypnotic soul-destroying dance of guilt. A sound, low at first, manifested into his consciousness. It was barely audible above his heartbeat but gradually it grew in volume to a murmur and then into a voice.
"Must get away!" the voice repeated over and over again. Suddenly Alan recognised the voice: it was his.
He was unaware that he was sliding downwards until he felt his bottom suddenly come into contact with the cold cobbles of the path. He rose unsteadily and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"This can't be happening, not now, not to me," he thought, as he looked around uncertainly to see if he was being watched. He began to walk away but his stomach cramped and he gripped his side and staggered forwards as if drunk.
***
"Phil do you think Alan is alright?" Jill asked her husband after the morning service the following Sunday.
"Why do you ask that love? To be perfectly honest with you I didn't much notice, I was concentrating on the music."
"Oh nothing, it's most probably just me."
Part 3, by Lili Bolero
Alan hurried back from St Stephens as quickly as he could. Luckily none of his parishioners seemed keen to detain him today, apart from Susan Carter, who was prattling on about the dried flower petal confetti for Emma's wedding. He promised to get back to her and hurried off in the direction of the Vicarage.
Once inside the haven of his study he removed his shoes, poured himself a fairly small Scotch, asked for forgiveness, and knocked it back. He sank down into the armchair, exhausted, and hoped that he would find the strength to get through Evensong at Darrington.
It was three days since his visit to the Bishop, and he still found his thoughts spinning out of control. Who was that fellow John Pachelbel? Strange name. He had never heard of the Bishop of Longthurston before. And what about ‘Creepy’ Herbert? How had he become involved with the Church? The Lord certainly moved in mysterious ways!
Alan allowed himself to relax a little as he remembered ‘Creepy’ at school. The general consensus was that ‘Creepy’ would become a debt collector or bailiff like his father, or perhaps something more sinister like a spy or a private detective.
"That must have been some conversion, Dear Lord, to get ‘Creepy’ into Your Fold!" thought Alan.
Alan felt that he would really like God to help him now, with his little problem. Not so little, actually. ‘Creepy’ Herbert knew, and maybe Bishop Pachelbel knew something, too.
Alan got down on his knees and prayed for guidance, but was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
Part 4 by Sunshine Superman
Alan put down the ’phone and went to the door, just in time to see Canon Herbert there behind the glass, putting his mobile phone away. ‘Creepy’ stood there with a young lad, in his late teens, a lad who bore a startling resemblance to former lodger and drughead Luke. The lad did not look particularly pleased to see Alan as he opened the door, but managed a sullen, ‘Hello Dad! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Over 12 years at least I reckon. Could only just about remember you!’
"Can we come in?" ‘Creepy’ asked and, without waiting for a response, ushered the lad in and followed him and a bewildered Rev Franks back to the warm sitting room. Sitting himself and the teen down, he spoke slowly but with passion. It was a relief to be able to bring home the fruits of his sinning to his former friend Alan, so long after the deed was done.
Alan only half listened, his mind went back years to the three of them, his best mate Phil Herbert and Phil's girlfriend Sandra. The night when Sandra and he had slept together the night before he was due to go away to start at theological college. He had not seen her for months afterwards, not until he sought her out after hearing that she and Phil had married, and had had a child that the gossips were saying was not her husband's.
Alan had offered them money, such as he could spare from his own small income and recent inheritance, but had been grateful when it was refused, his own wife was now pregnant and money was becoming precious to them. Phil and Sandra had resolved to bring up the child as their own, and it was strange to see Phil dressed in a suit and smart shoes, not the Teddy Boy clothes and brothel creepers that seemed to be a second skin to him and which had earned him the nickname ‘Creepy’ ... they hoped that young Simon would follow his dad into the bank for a career rather than his biological father into the ministry ... they were not to know, as Alan was just learning, that Phil himself would forsake finance for divinity in due course.
"What do you want?" Alan asked finally, when words were over. "Why come here after all this time?"
Canon Herbert and his ‘son’ Simon smiled and the menace seemed to vanish from the air. The sun came out from behind a cloud, and Alan felt he could breathe more easily. But he must still have looked baffled, as Simon turned and looked up at ‘Creepy’ and said, "Tell him, Dad! Tell him that we're proud of him at last!"
And the Canon did. Told Alan how he had heard from Bishop Cyril about Alan moving to an area not too far from where they were living, and about Luke, and Alan's concern for the lad and his plight. Somehow they managed to see a photo of the young addict, and realised that in part the Vicar was trying to do his best not just for the drughead, but the lad from whom he had fled a long time ago.
"Skip the Mills and Boon stuff, Dad!" Simon said uncomfortably, "Look, Mr Franks, oh ok, dad, if you like, we've just come to take you on a drive for lunch. Mum wants to see you and say hello, OK?"
You can read more relay stories - or even have a go yourself - on the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board.
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