Peter grinned as the four of them sat down to a late breakfast.
"You'll be pleased to know the postman's been," he announced, waving a long white envelope above his head. "I decided not to open it until we can all share the excitement together. How about asking Karen to do the honours?"
He passed it across to his daughter, who gave a nervous giggle, conscious of the wide eyes all staring her way.
"This is like awards on television," Kevin gallantly dispelled the silence for her. With a grateful smile, Karen ripped open the envelope, stared for a moment at the typed contents, then handed everything to her father.
After a quick perusal, Peter beamed at his expectant onlookers. "Well, it seems no-one here became a millionaire overnight. The good news is that this house has been left entirely at my disposal."
"Does that mean you've got to dispose of it?" gasped Karen.
"No, my love, it simply means that it's ours. We can either sell it and buy somewhere smaller instead, or we could move up here and watch trains all the year round. Who recommends we sell?"
Everyone sat very still.
"Good! I'd hate to do the wrong thing!"
"Is there also bad news?" asked Karen as her father continued reading the rest to himself.
"Only that we still have to complete our inventory, because the executors want all the help we can give them. However, I will say that if anyone's spots anything in this house that particularly takes their fancy - even a nurses' outfit - then we'll mark it on our list, and see what can be arranged!"
"Did you have to mention nurses' outfits?" Betty chided him when the children were out of earshot. "Can't we drop the subject, please?"
"Relax, Betty. Forbid a child to do something and very likely he'll be tempted; make it readily available and the chances are he'll leave well alone. I'm not saying I'm right, but that's been my experience. You see, there were several occasions in my youth when I used to dress up too."
"What? As a woman?"
He laughed. "I was only eight! But there were two girls who lived next door, and the three of us enjoyed playing all sorts of pretending games together. The young one was by far the cutest little girl I'd ever known, and we certainly had some fun together. Then as I grew up I began to regard her in a very different light. Her name was Elizabeth, and fifteen years later, I married her."
Betty's mouth opened, but her eyes alone said: "Oh!"
"Yes," he continued, "we knew each other almost thirty years! Playing different roles in our childish games was the start of a long and caring relationship. I never had any qualms about being cuddled, you see, which is why I have great sympathy for Kevin's needs. We're not all tough as nails. Some of us can be quite soft-centred, and when you consider the domestic violence that goes on these days, I'd say any tendency towards gentleness is no bad thing! I'm sure you realise, there's a world of difference between rampant sex and the kind of loving tenderness Liz and I once enjoyed! I miss that so much."
Betty didn't know how to comment on that revelation, so she deftly changed the subject by picking up a family photo album.
"Peter, it's most important that you write on the backs of photos who these people are," she advised. "Otherwise their identity is lost for eternity. Do you have any pictures of Liz? I'd love to know what she looked like."
Peter turned a few pages and stopped at a black-and-white portrait of himself with a delicate but attractive young woman at his side. Behind him stood two familiar figures - Dan and Moira Wright.
"That's probably the best," he said softly. "You'll recognise my in-laws standing guard at the back. We had that picture taken to celebrate our engagement. It used to be my favourite."
Instinctively Betty laid a comforting hand on his arm, and his own hand folded over hers.
"If you want to see how Liz looked ten years earlier," he added sadly, "there's a living miniature upstairs. It answers to the name of Karen."
Betty could see the likeness at once, a very familiar likeness.
"I'm reminded of my own Karen too, though not the one who appeared yesterday."
Peter nodded. "Yesterday I'm sure we were visited by Aunt Elsie - it was the way she spoke, as if reading one of her poems. She always had this flair for iambic pentameters."
"She said something about her work being finished. Does that mean we've reached the start of a new chapter?"
Echoing from upstairs came the sound of happy childish laughter.
"If we're talking about Kevin," said Peter, closing the album, "I'd say he's already into a whole new book. If you're referring to someone else, I can only say it's best to turn each page as it comes." He put the album back on the table. "We can't relive the past, Betty, but it's good to have a few visual souvenirs."
Peter took down from the walls several old picture-frames and added their contents to the album, while selecting others to put up in their place. With several empty frames left over, an idea occurred simultaneously to both Peter and Betty - a surprise gift for Karen's adorable grandfather.
That evening the children helped Betty to restore the blue party dress to its former condition, and at Kevin's insistence Karen wore it the following day. From then on, he could scarcely take his eyes off her.
"You know," he remarked publicly. "It's almost as if our Karen has come back again! And this time she's real!"
"I trust both my children have now found peace!" his mother added in a private thankful prayer.
The week passed quickly. Betty provided meals and thoroughly cleaned the house, while Peter was kept busy dealing with his aunt's affairs. On their last day together, all four of them went for a trip on the railway, where they made another surprising discovery. If, as now seemed likely, Karen were to attend a new comprehensive school nearby, then by some curious chance she already possessed the correct uniform.
The following Sunday they were back in Rushbury. Peter proudly mounted the pulpit in the United Reform Church, while his daughter sat contentedly in the front row, sandwiched between Betty and her new admirer who promised on his word of honour that he wouldn't fidget.
"This," said Peter as he began the sermon, "has been a memorable week for me and my daughter - a week of ups rather than downs, and I hope to round it off by making this a most memorable Sunday. On my journey back from Shropshire an idea came into my head - an idea so fitting that I decided I had no option but to share it with you all. I must therefore ask you to excuse me for just one moment."
With a mysterious glint in his eye, Peter descended the steps and disappeared through a small side door. A buzz of expectant whispers swept rapidly through the congregation until he reappeared, bringing out an elderly blind-folded gentleman whom he guided to the pulpit. After ensuring he was safe, Peter left him and came to sit between Karen and Betty in the front pew.
Dan Wright stood for a moment while everyone else waited in silence. Then he cleared his throat and spoke with a warm lilt to his voice as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"You know, my friends - I confess it's good to be standing here. I expect you've all heard the wildest of stories and speculation about my eyesight and the mischief I've been up to during the past fortnight. So I've come today to give you my version, because I claim it to be the best. I'm assured by my specialist that when these bandages come off next week, I'll be able to see objects more than a million miles away. And if I see the sun shining in a clear blue sky on Wednesday afternoon, I'll know he's right. In fact, even the darkest of storm clouds would be a welcome sight. However this handicap does enable me to prove one point to my sceptics, that I can still preach a reasonably good sermon without the aid of notes."
There came a generous ripple of laughter which erupted into warm applause as he made a pretence of fumbling about for invisible papers.
"Many of you may remember, two weeks ago, a little girl who stood up in the middle of my sermon. Well, that little girl is with us today, though I have to tell you that her earthly body lies in a grave somewhere over in Allentown. But her spirit still attends this church. How do I know this? Because I've spoken to her. Oh, yes, I hear the skeptics thinking - not only blind as a fruit-bat but batty as a fruit-cake! But think on this, my friends. Why ARE we gathered here today? Is it primarily for a chat? Do we assemble in this glorious place to swap recipes for fruit-cake or to exchange jars of home-made marmalade? Or do we come simply to show off our Sunday clothes? We are here, I trust, because somewhere deep in our hearts, we're sure that there's more to life than a mere four-score years of unpredictable weather, unpunctual trains and unscheduled TV programmes. We hope and believe in some all-seeing, divine purpose beyond our earthly life, a loving, guiding spirit whom we choose to call God. And what is God? Who is she?"
He uttered one of his infectious chuckles. "There! I said it, and it rattles the pews every time - oh! yes, I admit I get a kick out of shocking people. But why? Because it makes us stop and think. If He or She is listening, God will probably admit He's not a bearded old Englishman in a voluminous grey robe. God is neither man nor woman, white nor black, British, Jewish nor Zulu. To ask what God looks like is as absurd as asking what music looks like, to know the shape of wind, to try and paint the colour of love. All right, with music we can see dots on a stave, and we see trees bending in a gale, but these are only the symptoms, the symbols, the effects.
"As you may appreciate, it's dark in here. Total pitch blackness - trust me! Yet in the past week, I've seen God, not with mortal eyes, but with the eyes of my soul, the eyes we use when we dream. And God appears to me now as the essence of all of us here - you, me, the good, even the bad - all of us, past, present and to come. I think of God as being the pool of our common spirits. I'm not saying that God is merely a committee of dead souls, no. My message is that we - all of us - form a part, an important part, the loving part of God.
"A tiny part of God came to visit me the other day. She made a reference to my eyesight and told me I'd be well taken care of. I have to say that so far she's been proven right. Despite having to go around for a few more days looking like a cross between the invisible man and a bewildered panda, I have had the best of all possible treatment. I'm tempted to misuse an old saying, that the proof of this padding will be in the sighting. As I say - I was tempted!
"In my role as a bumbling, defenceless old man, I want to shock you again, by challenging the very words of our Lord's Prayer. Lead us not into temptation! What on earth does that mean? Keep us away from the gin and tonic? Let us not catch sight of Mrs. Webster's smalls on the washing line? What exactly is temptation?
"I was led into temptation this morning, and I'm delighted. My son-in-law who addressed you earlier tempted me to come up here today and surprise you all. Happily I fell for the idea. I'm also tempted right now to share with you the joy I feel at being here, alive and well, able to address you, and without notes too - you have to believe I was tempted to do this without notes! I dare say many of you were tempted ten minutes ago to put some of your hard-earned income into the offertory plate. I've been tempted all week to take off these blinding bandages and grab a sneak preview. Lead us not into temptation? Believe me, temptation's all around us, and some of it is great fun! So what is temptation?
"Lying in my hospital bed - occupying my mind during the brief gaps between visitors - some of whom brought with them some very wise words indeed - I was prompted to reconsider, to reinterpret our Lord's meaning. Try this on for size: Lead us into temptation by all means - but please, when you do so, deliver us from evil. Following on from what one of visitors said, I began seeing this line in a new context, like the old saying: It never rains but it pours! Never rains? Nonsense, of course it rains, especially when I'm on holiday. But when we say: It never rains but it pours, we really mean: When it rains it always pours. Never does it rain without pouring! Never lead us into temptation without also delivering us safely from evil! Doesn't that make better sense? We all pray to be delivered from evil, even me! But temptation? No, I reckon an occasional brush with temptation may be good for our souls, provided we learn to recognise it and steer our lives cautiously around it.
"You know, when I was five - which was donkeys' years ago and then some - I thought we were supposed to say: Lead us not into Thames Station! Can you imagine that? Little Danny Wright pictured a station not unlike Rotherhithe, down in the murky depths just outside Brunel's Thames tunnel. There! I didn't have to tell you that, but I was tempted. I was tempted, the other day, to get behind the wheel of Moira's car, tempted because of an urgent call from a friend in serious trouble. Was I wrong to go to her aid? I think not, even though it meant for half an hour I was a major hazard on the public highway - believe me I've thought long and hard about the wisdom of that folly! But for a short while I was again a motorist!
"This gave rise to another thought. If motor cars hadn't been invented, none of us would ever be called motorists! We are motorists only when we get into our cars. In the same way, perhaps it is only in these frail bodies that we appear as we do, as humans, male or female. The true self is something beyond human mortality. It is, if you like, a part of God.
"I say again, it is evil we must avoid, not temptation. Perhaps true temptation exists only when we fail to recognise evil. Is it evil to bind up an old man's eyes so he can't see? Yes, if you're planning to pinch his wallet; but not if you're working to restore his sight. Evil isn't a deed, it's an intention. It's in the mind - usually the mind of someone else! Someone the other day ripped up one of my favourite railway books! Was that evil? It may have been an error of judgement, even an accident, or perhaps the culprit had a fixation against rail privatisation, who knows? But I've since met the person who did it. We've all seen her. She stood up in church a few Sundays ago.
"Perhaps without evil there can be no good. In a life without sorrow, what price is happiness? If there were no rain-clouds, would we still rejoice at the sunshine? Blindfold yourselves for a day, and see how you appreciate the gift of sight!
"Turn now to each other, and smile. Go on, I'm not looking. Give one another a genuine, happy smile, brim-full of true Christian loving - do it now, and I say you're each looking at a part of God. God, we are told, is Love. Both God and Love are surrounding us today - in our hearts, in the warmth of our laughter, in the goodness of our souls. God stood up in church the other day. We all saw, yet few recognised. But he or she stood here, just as he and she stands here today, listening, caring, loving each and every one of us. Maybe she's about to stand up again - so before she does, I think I'll take my leave, if someone will give the old fool a helping hand. God bless you all. Believe me, I genuinely look forward to seeing you all next week!"
Dan was gently led away to a round of spontaneous applause.
A week later, he was back in his pulpit, telling his adoring flock how moved he felt on entering his study at home to find his walls newly adorned with six framed photographs of his favourite steam engines, once hidden in a book and rarely seen, now on full display for daily enjoyment. This became the inspiration for his next sermon, that good can often emerge from what may seem bad, and that life was far better with everything out in the open, displayed in all honesty for everyone to see and enjoy.
Four eager listeners who had previously occupied the front pew were no longer there, and would reappear only on occasions when they felt the need to renew old friendships. As Kevin said, he didn't mind how often he was drawn into temptation, as long as temptation consisted of the Severn Valley Railway, deep in the heart of Shropshire. And it was in Shropshire that Peter and Betty's hearts now felt safe and secure, two good, kind and loving hearts that no longer felt the aching despair of any loneliness.
THE END
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