Jo and Malcolm look up at her.
‘On the way here, I walked behind a young man smoking a really powerful spliff. I wassoannoyed,’ she says. ‘He went so quickly that I had to walk really, really fast to keep up with him.’ She breathes in deeply, smiling, ‘And now,’ she concludes, with a sway from one foot to the other, ‘I’m feeling rather mellow.’ Ruth turns to the laughing Jo. ‘So lay it on me, Jo. Why did you want us to meet up?’
Now they are here, Jo finds it difficult to start. Malcolm pulls her arm through his and pats it encouragingly. He already has some idea of what is coming next from the texts that he and Jo have exchanged.
‘Well, I suppose it’s about you, Ruth,’ she starts.
Ruth stops swaying and studies her.
‘It’s just that you have done so much for us, and Malcolm and I wondered if there was anything we could do to help you?’ When Ruth doesn’t say anything, she adds, ‘I mean, what about your ghosts? Do you want to tell us about them?’
Jo isn’t sure why she is putting so much faith in the ghosts of Highgate Cemetery but now, sitting surrounded by the frost-covered tombs, it feels right to trust in them. They haven’t let Malcolm and her down. And, she reasons, didn’t vicars and cemeteries go together, like … well, like blood, poo and vomit?
Ruth starts to pace up and down in front of them. ‘Idowant to tell you about Karl Marx and Hutch. And I have found some inspiration for what they might chat about on Christmas Eve. I think mine came because I’ve been thinking about my own life rather a lot recently.’ She turns to face them. ‘In particular, my family.’
Jo can feel Malcolm squeeze her arm.
‘But, oh …’ Ruth pauses, and twists her foot into the gravel. ‘I feel like I’ve been keeping a secret from you,’ she eventually declares.
You and me both, Jo thinks.
But it seems Ruth is not following the same line of thought as Jo. ‘The thing is, it has been so much fun investigating these people.’ Ruth turns abruptly towards Malcolm. ‘It really has, Malcolm. It has been a Godsend.’ She smiles, and Jo is glad to see her anxiety lift a little. ‘I might as well make a clean breast of it,’ she proclaims. ‘I didn’t like Karl or Hutch. In fact, I grew to really dislike them.’
Jo laughs with relief, and Malcolm cries, ‘Now, why would that trouble you so? We cannot like everyone we meet.’
‘I wanted it to be enjoyable, in the way it was when you spoke about your ghosts,’ Ruth says, a little wistfully, ‘I know it was hard to get there, but when you talked of Issachar and George Eliot strolling through London, it sounded such fun.’ She half smiles. ‘But you get what you’re given. And, in the end, I believe I was given what I needed.’
Is that how it works? Jo wonders. Is she being given what she needs? Right here and now?
She almost misses it when Malcolm repeats, ‘But, Reverend Ruth, we can’t like everyone.’
‘I know that, but I have a different perspective to you. If I mention it, I know what you’re going to say, Malcolm,’ Ruth says, ruefully.
‘Go on,’ Malcolm responds.
‘It is important to me to find the good in them because I try and see the face of Christ in everyone I meet.’
Malcolm stays quiet, which Jo thinks is taking some effort on his part. But he cannot stop himself from shaking his head.
‘You see,’ Ruth says, almost cheerfully.
‘We are never going to agree on this, Reverend Ruth. I see what goes on in the world and it convinces me there is no God.’ He opens his palms outwards in mute appeal. ‘I read history and it is plain to me where religion has emerged from: circumstance, need, and the desire of the powerful to keep the weak where they are.’ Malcolm glances towards Karl Marx’s tomb.
‘I think there is a lot we might agree on,’ Ruth says thoughtfully, ‘but I don’t want to talk about it now. And, Malcolm, I probably never will.’
Malcolm looks taken aback, and Jo is reminded that Ruth is not the one who usually starts talking about religion. She certainly has never tried to convert them. But at the same time Ruth does not shy away from saying what she believes. Jo is torn – Average Jo – caught in the middle. She agrees with what Malcolm says, but there is also something alluring about Ruth’s faith and her belief in people.
Ruth goes to speak, but Malcolm interrupts, ‘I do think we should look for the best in everyone.’
There is silence. In the distance Jo hears a cracking sound. A stone contracting with the cold? Someone stepping on a fallen branch, deep within the cemetery?
Ruth’s smile is slow and warm. ‘You see, we’re agreeing already,’ she says, and then swings around to continue her pacing.
‘Do unto others?’ Malcolm muses.
‘Exactly. I have two things I try and live my life by. That is one of them,’ Ruth says, over her shoulder.
‘What is the second?’ Malcolm asks.
