34. Farewell to Cowslip

Emma finally has enough of the weird beliefs of Barney Pickle

“A lass doesn’t expect much from a man,” muttered Emma as Barney turned his back on her in order to start dressing, “but she would like a little accidental peep at his unmentionables once in a while.”

“I think I’ve worked it out,” muttered Barney, his y-fronts neatly in place, “That boy, that Gozza Scumbag, was sent by my poor father when he was en route to Heaven, I’m convinced of it. Wasn’t I told that my father had died in the same hospital as the boy was lying in his agony after being knocked down by a car? And didn’t Gozza get a sight of hell after he died himself, quite out of the blue and unexpected? He told us he did! And his words were he’d never ever find himself going there! That was my dad using the boy as a messenger from the spirit world, keeping up the education he started when I was little more than a toddler all those years ago..”

Emma looked at him ans hook her head sadly. “I’ve heard enough of your gobbledegook,” she told him, “and you know what: I’m fed up with feeling sorry for you. But every time I think that it looks like you’re finally seeing sense you conjure up another reason to abstain from anything like normal human behaviour between a man and a woman. Now it’s the boy who mysteriously recovered after he seemed to be dead who you’ve conjured into you silly head. I’ve had enough.”

He looked at her and shook his head slowly and sadly. “I know I’m right,” he said quietly, “and I know my father was right. All the punishment I received was his genuine attempt at clearing my road to Heaven and away from Hell, and I intend to pay full heed to it. It’s a simple message that mankind has known since the very beginning since Adam covered himself up so that the evil Eve couldn’t see him.”

“And you’re sure of that?” she asked, “you haven’t made a mistake? You don’t like me any more?”

“Of course I do, Emma, but that doesn’t mean I should go flashing my forbidden parts at you! The truth is I’ve never felt more fond of a lady than I do of you, but there’s much more to liking you than condemning myself to a Satanic burning in Hell for eternity just because you want to see what my faith tells me that nobody, not even you, should ever see.”

“Then Barney, I wish to hand in my notice. I no longer work for you at your parsonage. And I have no wish to stay here a minute longer than I have to in order to be insulted. So I’m off to say goodbye to Father Teatrader and thank him for being my host, and I’m going to order a taxi and go straight back to my home and do my utmost to forget my time here with a man I could really like but who could never think more of me than a passport to an eternal sojourn in hell!”

At that she picked up a bag she had already packed and stormed out of room fourteen, making for the office of the leader of the Cowslip Retreat.

Father Teatrader was in situ there, sipping a clear liquid from a tumbler. It looked like water, but the aroma it gave off suggested something less mundane.

“I need to tell you that I’m going home,” she said, “I can’t stand a moment longer in the company of that vicar! You probably don’t know, but he’s decided that the boy whose heart stopped for a couple of minutes yesterday passed out because Barney’s father wanted to use him as a conduit to re-enforce the nonsense he tried to bully into the very young Barney years ago.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Teatrader, “It can’t have been any easy Retreat for you, my dear.”

“It would have been lovely had the silly man not been convinced I was only here as a temptress to lure him to hell in his afterlife, whatever that might be.”

“We believe there must be more to our existence than the time we spend here on Earth,” murmured the Father, “it’s the basis of all religions, or so I believe, the faith that when we pass away it’s to more than a six feet deep hole.”

“But the silly man’s convinced that even if I get the least glimpse of his male genitals he’ll be condemned for ever to burn,” she explained, “and I find the whole idea that what my eyes accidentally catch a glimpse of becomes a conduit to somewhere nasty when he’s dead has just got to be total nonsense. No. I’m off. I’ve explained it to him until I was blue in the face. Now tell, me, what do I owe you for my board and lodgings this last few days?”

“Oh, that’s all been paid for, by the Bishop’s own fund. You can go it you want to, this is no prison, but I must say that you’re a sight for sore eyes and you’ll be sadly missed.”

“Not by Barney, I won’t. I used to be his dogsbody and I’ve told him that’s over as well. He’ll have to find someone else to brave the shops and buy his underwear for him!”

“Oh dear. Well, I see you’re packed already so I’ll wish you a safe journey. And I’ll give the Bishop a ring and let him know what the situation is. As I understood it, he really did believe that you’d help the Reverend Pickle recover from the shock of being put on remand in prison for something he had nothing to do with.”

Emma sighed. “I’ve done my best, but he’s not prepared to start helping himself,” she told him, “you will keep an eye on him, won’t you? I’ve worked for him for so long, ever since he buried my late husband, and I can’t help worrying about him.”

“Of course I will, my dear,” he smiled at her, “and I’ll get one of the brothers to sit with him now and again. That might help him.”

“I hope so,” she said, “well, goodbye then, Father Teatrader. This is a lovely peaceful place and it’s a shame that Barney didn’t notice.”

At that she walked out of the office, to the main entrance which wasn’t so far away, and reached for her phone in order to call for a taxi.

© Peter Rogerson 09.05.24