‘Well, okaaay.’ Ben’s suspicion was almost endearing. Then he smirked. ‘Everyone is paying a hundred quid. Beforehand.’ He held out his palm. ‘Like now.’
‘Seriously? You want me to pay you to—All right! I do not have it on me. Maybe you’ll be kind enough to stop at a cash point?’
‘There’s one in Cathedral Yard.’ Ben snatched the keys off him.
‘Excellent. All set then?’
Aleksey settled himself comfortably into the passenger seat. Ben skidded the Merc a little on the gravel whilst turning, something he always did, and observed with some noticeable snark, ‘We should opt for sleeping in the cathedral. Seeing you’re too old to lie out on grass all night now.’
Aleksey smiled privately, staring out his side window. ‘Good. You had no issue with the bishop then?—getting permission.’
He sensed Ben’s gears turning. ‘No, it was really weird. He said at first it was impossible—health and safety reasons mainly—but then yesterday he called Squeezy and said we were all welcome… That he’d be absolutely delighted to host it… Huh, almost as if someone in high places had had a word with him.’
‘Well, he does presumably chat to God.’
‘You bugger. Phillipa.’
‘Ack, I’ve told you, Ben: never burn your bridges.’
‘You’ve never said that to me in your life. This mysterious Harry of yours won’t be there—yeah, it’s taken me a while, but I’ve got there. I told you, Squeezy saw him off.’
‘Well, I met him after that incident, and he appeared to harbour no animosity towards him at all. He was very…hmm, what is that concept? We don’t have it in Russia. Zen. Yes, he was very Zen. Or on drugs. I wasn’t sure.’
‘That’s what my top says, so you must have it in Russia. Emmy told me: Live Zen.’
He kept his smile to himself. ‘It was very kind of Babushka to buy it for you.’
It was precisely this incident with the moron that Aleksey wanted to clarify with the old man, and why he was leaving his very comfortable bed for the night. If Harry wasn’t there, he assumed one of the other homeless men would know him. Or Snodgrass. There was always that.
Cathedral Yard was a place they both knew only too well. One of Ben’s favourite, and much frequented cafes lay in its cobbled precincts. Aleksey could not recall that he’d ever been inside the actual church though. It was an impressive building; he had to give the Christians that.
He could hear a certain little boy’s voice chiming in his head, asking him if he knew that it had the longest uninterrupted medieval stone-vaulted ceiling in the world. Well he did know this. He knew a lot about buildings. He found it hard to comprehend though that the church had been founded before the Norman Conquest—had, in fact, a Roman site beneath it. He wondered idly if Rachel had explored this vast monument to belief and thought she probably had.
Cathedral Yard and Cathedral Close formed two sides of a green, which in turn fronted the impressive stone building. Now, the grass was thronging with people, most of whom appeared very well-to-do and were clutching rugs and picnic baskets. They were glancing around with trepidation, more as if they were soldiers parachuting into enemy territory than people just sleeping in their own city.
There was a tiny BBC film unit setting up on the grass, presumably from the local news channel, and Ben made towards them. Squeezy was nowhere in sight. Aleksey stood for a moment, assessing, and then went over to lean against the side of a bookshop, closed at this hour, which had a little cobbled alleyway next to it. He now had an excellent view of the entire area and settled in to wait.
It got dark.
He was getting extremely puzzled. Most of the worthy citizens of Exeter had moved into the cathedral itself once the daylight started to fade. No one else seemed to be appearing. He had expected something very different to this—small campfires, huddled groups of men, a soup wagon even. But there had been none of this.
Eventually, he levered himself off the wall, which he felt almost affixed to, and went to track down Sunny Boy.
It took a while. He got distracted.
As he went in through the double doors of the cathedral, he almost staggered and lost his breath. He remembered what he’d admitted to Rachel: I have trouble not believing. If anything would lead a man to contemplate his own spiritual nature, then he supposed this building would. The ceiling soared above him, hundreds of feet high and so long he could barely see the end. The pillars arched; the stones held. Softly illuminated here and there by candlelight, it was beyond magnificent, and was a testament to something he felt, but chose not to name. The beauty and serenity of the space, however, was not enhanced, in his humble opinion, by the people lying around on the floor making it untidy. If it were his church, he’d keep humans out.
He trod carefully over the huddled bundles and eventually found Ben in a choir stall, stretched out to his full length, ankles crossed, looking annoyingly comfortable and reading a book by the light of a small torch.
Aleksey shoved his legs off, sat next to him and hissed, ‘Where’s the moron? I cannot find him.’
Ben, apparently annoyed at losing his place, muttered back, ‘Where the fuck have you been? I was looking for you everywhere.’
‘Do not swear at me. I have been helping everyone and being useful as always. Where are the homeless people? I cannot find them either.’
‘What homeless people?’
Ben was rummaging in his pockets and produced a Mars Bar. By now, Aleksey had learnt his lesson, and had it off him and snapped in half before Ben could react. He ignored Ben’s fury and demanded, ‘What do you meanwhat homeless?’
