‘The bastard,’ Jo exclaims.
‘Quite,’ Malcolm says, with satisfaction.
‘And that was it. I saw the work, the endless problems; but most of all I saw myself as this person that people felt they could make comments about; someone whose letters they could read; drawers they could rifle through. What was worse, I knewwhathe would find in my bedroom drawer. It wassohumiliating.’
‘You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,’ Jo assures her.
‘Oh, you know so much,’ and despite herself, Ruth starts to laugh again. ‘I suppose it was quite a compliment.’ There is a long pause and a covering of snow slips from a nearby tomb with a swoosh and a thud. ‘The thing was, Stan had quite a thing for my … well … for my breasts.’
Jo can’t help it; she is grinning openly now.
‘He wrote me a poem, and I was pretty certain Colin would have found it and I … couldn’t bear it.’
Jo is no longer smiling, ‘Of course not. Thebastard,’ she says, with real venom.
They sit in silence and then Ruth says, much more cheerfully, ‘Want to hear it?’
‘Yes!’ is the immediate chorus from both Jo and Malcolm.
‘Oh, well, in for a penny,’ Ruth says, reaching for her phone. She scrolls through some photos, ‘I took a picture of it,’ she explains. The graveyard is quiet and then the Reverend Ruth Hamilton speaks formally, as if addressing a congregation.
The cassock you wear with so much pride
Covers perfections, you should not hide.
Your breasts are a wonder, beyond compare,
I thank the Lord for the joy found there.
Who knew that we would find such bliss,
In the intimacy of our first kiss.
Now is the agony of being apart,
For you and your breasts have stolen my heart.
They do laugh, but they also squeeze tight to the Reverend Ruth. ‘I think that is rather marvellous,’ Malcolm declares. ‘You clearly inspired the man.’
‘What happened next?’ Jo asks. ‘After you saw Colin in your house?’
‘I just … turned around and started walking. I got down to the dual carriageway out of town and a lorry stopped and gave me a lift. It was an Italian driver, so I suppose henever saw the news story. After that, I just … couldn’t bear to go back.’
Jo nods her understanding and remembers Malcolm’s comment:Ah, going back, finding the will to do that, now that is a much more difficult endeavour.
‘So has anything happened since? I mean, have you heard from Stan?’
‘Oh, no, that’s all over.’
‘And the press?’ Jo asks.
‘Well it’s a pretty old story by now. But my bishop and I came up with an idea and a week ago I gave a press conference about my disappearing to the local media.’
‘I haven’t seen anything in the news,’ Jo says.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t,’ Ruth chuckles.
‘What?’ They both ask this.
