Angels and Men (47 page)

‘They've got suitcases. It must be the new monks arriving.'

Mara suppressed a giggle and they both turned to look at her. ‘Actually, I think it's a rehearsal.' They focused at her with interest. ‘There's an ordination here on Sunday.'

‘Fancy that,' said the other. ‘All those young men becoming priests.'

‘And deacons,' said Mara, sensing she was being taken for an expert.

‘We were wondering about the gentleman in red.'

‘The Bishop.' The three of them fell silent and pressed close again as the procession started to move into the cathedral. Johnny was at the back. It must be in alphabetical order, she thought. Ah, God. I can't stand this. It all felt too symbolic, watching him from the outside as he was carried away from her into the Church. This was the real reason she had refused to go to the service. She was the one being sacrificed on the altar of his vocation.

‘You seem to know a lot about it,' said the first woman. ‘Have you got someone in there?' Mara bit her lip. Johnny was framed for one last second in the great doorway before he vanished from her.

‘No,' she said. ‘No one at all.' She turned and ran, leaving them to their speculation.

Rain crossed the City in grey waves. Mara returned the books and checked one or two last references. Tears kept trickling steadily down her cheeks like rain on a window. She unravelled her plait to let her hair hide her face. Hang on to yourself. Only a few more minutes and it'll all be over. Her heart was already escaping south as she made her rapid notes.

At last it was all done. She left the library and began to run back across the empty Green. The previous week it had been teeming with graduates in their furs and gowns. Would her mother have arrived? Mara paused. On impulse she turned and cut back through the cloisters. One last glimpse.

The cloisters were empty. She slowed to a walk, clutching her damp notes. Raindrops dripped from the stone tracery in flashes of white. The sky was brightening a little overhead. They had all gone. She turned a corner. All except one clergyman leaning in an empty archway watching the rain. He had his back to her and she stared, thinking how like a painting he looked. Calm and still, the man of God in the house of God. Then she saw the cigarette. Her heart jolted. Johnny. He turned and saw her.

‘Hello, sweetie – I thought you'd gone ages ago.'

She shook her head. She shouldn't have come back this way. He was walking towards her. What if he asked her again to go to his ordination?

‘My mother's picking me up this afternoon,' she gabbled, twisting her sodden sheet of paper. ‘Any time now.'

‘Give her my love.'

‘Yes.' The rain mourned across the sky. He'd had his hair cut. ‘I didn't recognize you. You look . . . right. Standing there like that.'

He looked down at his cassock and did her a mock curtsey. ‘Like it? Funny, it feels right, somehow. I was just thinking that.'

She watched the smoke drift from his cigarette. ‘I'm glad you're getting ordained. Even if . . .' Her courage failed.

‘So I should bloody well think. You're the one who talked me into it, Mara.'

‘I just meant even if we're ending up going down different paths.' Her hand tugged miserably at her curls, trying to straighten them out. ‘I think you're doing the right thing. Sometimes you just have to make choices, that's all.'

‘Is that right?' He was grinning at her as he smoked. ‘I've always been one for having my cake and eating it. I mean, what's the point of having a cake and
not
eating it?'

‘But that's not what it means.' He was still laughing at her. She turned away. Raindrops sparkled on the points of stone. She felt tears welling up. He stubbed out his cigarette and began fishing around in his cassock pocket.

‘Here. Read this, flower. I was just going to post it to you.' He handed her a letter. She turned it over fearfully and saw her name and address in his writing.

‘What does it say?'

‘It's my attempt to explain. Without losing my temper, for once.'

‘Explain what?'

‘Ah, well.' He smiled down at her. ‘You'll have to read it, won't you?' She stood irresolute, hearing footsteps enter the cloisters. ‘The coffee shop's this way,' called a woman's voice. ‘You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?' She felt herself starting to panic.

‘Look, I'm going to have to go, Johnny.'

‘Kiss me goodbye, Mara.'

She flushed. ‘I can't. I mean . . .' She gestured desperately at his cassock. He grinned. The footsteps and chatter were drawing nearer all the time. It would be those women again. ‘Besides, I told you . . .'

But he laughed and took her in his arms. ‘You might be confused about this, Mara. I'm not.'

‘Johnny, no. Look, listen, someone's com-mmm . . .' The rest was lost. His hands were tangled in her hair and she could feel his cassock buttons digging into her breastbone. The voices fell silent and feet hurried tactfully past. His kiss deepened. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was trembling when he released her.

‘Look after yourself, sweetheart.' He touched her cheek briefly and was gone.

She watched him as he walked away, whistling, down the long cloister. You should have said something. You should have told him how you feel. You missed your last chance and now you'll never see him again. The bells chimed overhead. She clutched the letter tight. I'm late. I can't open it now. The sound of Johnny's whistling followed her as she ran off, weeping, letter in hand.

She crossed the cathedral close and emerged on to the street. Her parents' car was parked outside Jesus College. She's here already. Mara thrust the letter into her dress pocket. I'll have to wait till I'm home. Stop crying, you fool, she told herself. Do you want to have to pour out the whole story? The college entrance wavered through her tears. She glanced up the steps and stopped in astonishment. It was her father standing there waiting for her.