JOSIAH PYKE AND THE YAWNING CHASM

The time has come for Josiah Pyke to grow up a little.

Two things were due to happen during a particular April week four years or so after Josiah finished at University. The first thing was it was Easter week and he was conducting services in Goosebury’s church instead of the vicar because that august Christian had suddenly lost his faith and gone on a period of reflection by withdrawing to a quiet place surrounded by a few monks. It was the kind of retreat he knew he would hate, but it was also where he hoped he might rediscover that faith whilst simultaneously being unavailable to his harridan of a wife.

In truth, of course, that harridan had stolen his faith and the fact that her beautiful daughter had absconded to live with his own curate was proof, if proof were needed, that the good Lord had it in for him. It was yearning for the good old days of housekeepers and their attention to his manly needs that sent him skedaddling to the retreat. He knew that he needed to sort himself out.

The second thing due to happen that week was that Josiah, quite out of the blue, intended to get married himself. It was all arranged for the afternoon before Good Friday and his intended was the daughter of the very woman that the Reverend Simeon Crow was intent on escaping from, the acerbic Mavis Crow. But Ophelia was nothing like her mother. She was possibly the incarnation of perfection, tolerance and owner of the biggest heart in Christendom.

It had come as a bit of a shock when Ophelia had proposed to him. After all, it wasn’t even a leap year when the female of the species are allegedly able to propose marriage to the men of their dreams. But Ophelia had taken the bull by both horns, so to speak, made it quite clear that she wasn’t getting any younger and that if he felt they had a future together he’d better legitimise their non-existent but generally assumed closeness by sliding a golden ring onto her finger and muttering I do.

He did feel that they ought to have a future together, so he allowed things to take their course under the careful guidance of his beloved.

The Reverend Michael Stocks was to conduct the service and everyone in Henstooth was as happy as happy could be. Josiah was a popular figure in the village and the fact that his faith took him daily to the church in the neighbouring Goosebury didn’t dampen any spirits.

“It’s be nice being married,” smiled Ophelia, who had done the impossible and become even lovelier than she had hitherto been. This may, of course, had more to do with her rosy cheeks than the brevity of her skirts, but the utter truth was she was the owner of spectacularly wonderful legs.

“I’m looking forward to it,” agreed Josiah, hoping that he did. But he was a fistful of uncertainties, especially when it came to the more intimate side of married life. He’d reached the broad side of his twenties in blissful and total ignorance of a few rather important things that he really should have picked up en route to adulthood.

“What we ought to do,” she, advised him, her eyes twinkling in that special way that he loved, “is check that we’re compatible.”

“But we are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve always thought you to be the most beautiful of creatures, and surely that’s all the proof we need.”

“There’s more to compatibility than beauty,” she warned him.

He frowned. “I don’t think I understand,” he murmured, shaking his head, because he didn’t. How it had came to pass that a young man had grown to his age with no concept of what the realities of marriage really entailed might be beyond most people, but it was the truth. Josiah Pyke was an innocent in the world.

“I will tell you a parable seeing as you seem to like little stories with a sting in the tail and a lesson for the unworldly to learn,” smiled Ophelia, and the smile was so sweet he began to worry about the strength of his trousers to contain his appreciation of it. That was one puzzling department where his ignorance was possibly not quite so complete, but then, it required no conscious thought.

“I like parables,” he purred, “there are lots in the good book.”

“Then consider the story of the old woman who bought a new lamp,” grinned Ophelia. “She saw that lamp in a shop window and really wanted it for her parlour. She had exactly the right spot for it, and as she gazed in the window she could imagine exactly where she would put it and how she would love sitting next to it and reading her favourite books with its light shining onto their pages. So she went into the shop and bought the lamp with shining eyes and the certainty that her life’s treasures were now complete.

“When she got home she carefully took the lamp out of its packaging and equally carefully placed it in the alcove where she knew it would look splendid. But when she went to switch it on and admire its white shining brightness she found it had a very different plug to the socket on her wall. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t fit in, and she was sadder than she’d been for years. So what do you think she did?”

“Found an electrician to change the plug?” suggested Josiah.

Ophelia nodded. “Exactly,” she said, “and an electrician did exactly that. An electrician made her beautiful lamp work and she was suddenly happier than she’d been for years.”

“What’s that got to do with being married?” asked a puzzled Josiah.

“What do you know about the facts of life?” asked Ophelia, who was already well aware of her beloved man’s naivety.

“The good Lord created us,” Josiah told her. “During that first burst of creation at the very beginning when all the worlds we can see and all the stars in the sky and everything everywhere were created. Those are the facts of life...”

“I meant, what would you and I do if we wanted a baby between us, to love and share and cuddle and feed?” asked Ophelia.

And Josiah simply didn’t know. He didn’t even associate it with his trousers.

“What were you doing when the school teachers taught your class about birth and procreation?” asked Ophelia, shaking her head rather sadly.

“I didn‘t understand it,” was his simple reply.

“Well,” she said, looking as enticing as she could, which was a simple thing bearing in mind the minimum that she was wearing in addition to her many natural charms. “Do you remember that little packet I teased you into buying when you had your hair cut that time?”

He nodded.

“Well, bring it with you and we’ll go to my room and I’ll show you what to do,” she said with a mixture of determination and affection on her face and as if she was teaching a vital new lesson to a small child. “Let’s see if you need to change the plug!”

With little idea what she might possibly mean he followed her, and his education began beyond a very closed door, and somehow a yawning chasm inside his holy head was bridged.

© Peter Rogerson 1.4.18