Read Online Midwinter of the Spirit by Phil Rickman - Free Book Online
Authors: Phil Rickman
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slowly and diplomatically,’ Mick Hunter said. ‘Dobbs won’t go until he’s too shaky to hold a cup of holy water, and as long as he’s here he has the support of the Dean’s cabal. Well, all right, he can still be an exorcist if he wants. That doesn’t prevent me appointing a consultant to, say, prepare a detailed report on the demand for Deliverance services.’
Merrily said, ‘I don’t like this.’
‘Merely politics. I’m afraid I’m quite good at politics.’
She sighed. ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about, Bishop.’
‘Mick.’
‘Could I have some time?’
‘To pray for guidance?’
‘Yes,’ Merrily said, ‘I suppose that’s what I’ll do.’
‘Call my office if you’d like another meeting.’ Mick stood up, zipped his purple tracksuit top.
‘Er… if you can’t get an office in the cloisters, that means I’d be working from home then?’
At least she wouldn’t have to see the rather scary Dobbs.
‘Oh no.’ Mick grinned. ‘The Dean doesn’t screw me so easily. I told you I’m quite good at this. I’m going to put you in the Palace.’
In the car going home, Merrily put on Tori Amos’s From the Choirgirl Hotel because it was doomy and gothic and would keep Jane quiet. The kid would want to know what the Bishop had been so keen to talk about, but first Merrily needed to work it out for herself.
It certainly wasn’t what Jane had imagined, a clandestine return to witch-hunting, sneaky rearguard action by a defensive Church. There was no sign of New Age, Old Enemy paranoia in Mick Hunter. He was simply enfolding the Deliverance ministry into his campaign to project the diocese further into the new millennium as a vibrant, caring, essential institution. Was that so wrong? But what did he see as the enemy?
… paranoia, psychiatric problems, loneliness, isolation, stress, post-millennial angst…
Clearly, the Bishop’s liberalism did not extend to the supernatural. Merrily suspected he didn’t believe in ghosts, and that for him the borderline between demonic possession and schizophrenia would not exist – which was worrying. To what extent was healthy scepticism compatible with Christian faith? And what did he mean: Put you in the Palace ?
‘… little record shop in Church Street?’
‘Huh? Sorry, flower.’
Jane reached out and turned down the stereo. Merrily glanced across at her. Jane turning down music – this had never happened before.
‘I said, who do you think I ran into in that poky little record shop in Church Street?’
It was almost dark, and they were leaving the city via the King’s Acre roundabout, with a fourteenth-century cross on its island.
‘Close. Lol Robinson.’ Jane said. ‘You do remember… ?’
‘Oh,’ Merrily said casually. There was a time when she could have become too fond of Lol Robinson. ‘Right. How is he?’
Jane told her how Lol had just started renting this brilliant flat over the shop, with a view over the cobbles and two pubs about twenty yards away.
‘Belongs to the guy who owns the shop. His sister used to live there but she’s moved out. Her name’s Katherine Moon, but she’s just known as Moon, and I think she and Lol… Anyway, he looks exactly the same. Hasn’t grown, same little round glasses, still wearing that black sweat-shirt with the alien face on the front – possibly symbolic of the way he feels he relates to society and feels that certain people relate to him.’
‘So, apart from the sartorial sameness, did he seem OK?’
‘No, he was like waving his arms around and drooling at the mouth. Of course he seemed OK. We went for a coffee in the All Saints café. I’ve never been in there before. It’s quite cool.’
‘It’s in a church.’
‘Yeah, I noticed. Nice to see one fulfilling a useful service. Anyway, I got out of Lol what he’s doing now. He didn’t want to tell me, but I can be fairly persistent.’
‘You nailed his guitar hand to the prayerbook shelf?’
‘Look, do
Merrily said, ‘I don’t like this.’
‘Merely politics. I’m afraid I’m quite good at politics.’
She sighed. ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about, Bishop.’
‘Mick.’
‘Could I have some time?’
‘To pray for guidance?’
‘Yes,’ Merrily said, ‘I suppose that’s what I’ll do.’
‘Call my office if you’d like another meeting.’ Mick stood up, zipped his purple tracksuit top.
‘Er… if you can’t get an office in the cloisters, that means I’d be working from home then?’
At least she wouldn’t have to see the rather scary Dobbs.
‘Oh no.’ Mick grinned. ‘The Dean doesn’t screw me so easily. I told you I’m quite good at this. I’m going to put you in the Palace.’
In the car going home, Merrily put on Tori Amos’s From the Choirgirl Hotel because it was doomy and gothic and would keep Jane quiet. The kid would want to know what the Bishop had been so keen to talk about, but first Merrily needed to work it out for herself.
It certainly wasn’t what Jane had imagined, a clandestine return to witch-hunting, sneaky rearguard action by a defensive Church. There was no sign of New Age, Old Enemy paranoia in Mick Hunter. He was simply enfolding the Deliverance ministry into his campaign to project the diocese further into the new millennium as a vibrant, caring, essential institution. Was that so wrong? But what did he see as the enemy?
… paranoia, psychiatric problems, loneliness, isolation, stress, post-millennial angst…
Clearly, the Bishop’s liberalism did not extend to the supernatural. Merrily suspected he didn’t believe in ghosts, and that for him the borderline between demonic possession and schizophrenia would not exist – which was worrying. To what extent was healthy scepticism compatible with Christian faith? And what did he mean: Put you in the Palace ?
‘… little record shop in Church Street?’
‘Huh? Sorry, flower.’
Jane reached out and turned down the stereo. Merrily glanced across at her. Jane turning down music – this had never happened before.
‘I said, who do you think I ran into in that poky little record shop in Church Street?’
It was almost dark, and they were leaving the city via the King’s Acre roundabout, with a fourteenth-century cross on its island.
‘Close. Lol Robinson.’ Jane said. ‘You do remember… ?’
‘Oh,’ Merrily said casually. There was a time when she could have become too fond of Lol Robinson. ‘Right. How is he?’
Jane told her how Lol had just started renting this brilliant flat over the shop, with a view over the cobbles and two pubs about twenty yards away.
‘Belongs to the guy who owns the shop. His sister used to live there but she’s moved out. Her name’s Katherine Moon, but she’s just known as Moon, and I think she and Lol… Anyway, he looks exactly the same. Hasn’t grown, same little round glasses, still wearing that black sweat-shirt with the alien face on the front – possibly symbolic of the way he feels he relates to society and feels that certain people relate to him.’
‘So, apart from the sartorial sameness, did he seem OK?’
‘No, he was like waving his arms around and drooling at the mouth. Of course he seemed OK. We went for a coffee in the All Saints café. I’ve never been in there before. It’s quite cool.’
‘It’s in a church.’
‘Yeah, I noticed. Nice to see one fulfilling a useful service. Anyway, I got out of Lol what he’s doing now. He didn’t want to tell me, but I can be fairly persistent.’
‘You nailed his guitar hand to the prayerbook shelf?’
‘Look, do
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