Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 737 by Angharad

“Marguerite, what do you mean, you were promised a miracle?”

We walked on through the churchyard, and down the road perhaps fifty yards when she turned into a garden path leading up to a thatched cottage. The thatch was beginning to need replacing and the garden had seen better days. I suspected it might be occupied by someone elderly. “A few weeks ago, I had a dream,” she said pausing in the gateway of the cottage. “I was being challenged on my right to continue my incumbency here by a panel of churchwardens. They were saying that I was too liberal and easy going and that they wanted to replace me with a happy-clappy evangelical priest.”

“I can’t believe that, this place looks far too sleepy for one of those.”

“Well, this was a dream and I asked for a few moments to pray before I responded. They were astonished but agreed. I went into a side room and prayed asking for help. A voice inside my head told me to fight my corner harder and that if they needed proof of my suitability, a sign would be provided. You are that sign.”

“Hang on a minute, this sounds like some deep internal conflict you have, so don’t confuse it with outer realities. And don’t expect too much for Gladys.”

“How do you know her name?” she challenged.

“You told me,” I wasn’t sure if she had or not.

“I most certainly didn’t. In fact I wasn’t going to tell you until I introduced you.”

“Must have been a guess then, I’m not sure I can do much for her breast cancer, though.”

Marguerite’s eyes widened, “How did you know it was breast cancer?”

“I don’t, it was just a guess.”

“Cathy, I don’t know what to say, but I feel more confident about this than I did before.”

“You realise, it’s the lesion in her lung which is the dangerous one.”

“What lesion?”

“She has a secondary in her lung.”

“I don’t think the doctors have spotted that.”

“They think that eighty-seven is too old to bother, except to keep her comfortable.”

“I haven’t told you her age, Cathy, you really are special. I hope you can help her.”

“How do you know I’m not from the devil?”

“Because I know you.”

“That is a purely emotional judgement. You only know what I told you. I could be anything or anyone. I might not even be transsexual, that might be just a story I sold you to make myself seem more vulnerable and get through your defences, then today I come for the coup de grace and steal someone’s soul.”

“Cathy, you’re frightening me.”

“Where’s your faith now?”

“My faith is strong, but I don’t think I like your sense of humour.”

“Show me the lady. If I agree to help her, assuming whatever it is that comes through me, manifests itself, don’t ask me to do it again. I don’t ever intend to do this again.”

“That’s your business, Cathy, but not using a gift given by God…”

“I don’t believe all that, any more than I believe in a devil, it’s all myth and nonsense. The only evil on this planet comes from the hearts of men.”

“Shall we go in?” Marguerite stepped over the threshold and into the house. I followed her in. It was dark in the front hallway, and she led me through a door on the right. Inside a room which had wainscoting halfway up its walls and thus didn’t help the light situation–the windows were tiny and the walls several feet thick.

“Hello, Bernard, I’ve brought someone to see Gladys. How is she today?”

“Not good, she’s getting a little chest pain.”

“What on breathing?” asked Marguerite.

“Yeah, I s’pose it’s the breast hurting.”

“Could be I suppose,” Marguerite agreed, then added, “have they checked her lungs?”

“Not as far as I knows, why?”

“I wondered if it could be coming from there, that’s all.” Marguerite introduced me.

I felt a sense of urgency in seeing the woman. “I have to get back Marguerite, can we meet Gladys?”

“Course, you know where she is, I’ll put the kettle on,” said Bernard and he went out to the kitchen.

I steered Marguerite into the bedroom which had once been a dining room. She tried to make me go into another room as if testing me, but I knew where she was. I could smell the cancer–I’d never done so before, but I’ve heard tell it has a peculiar odour.

“Gladys this is…”

“I know who it is,” she croaked, “I’m ready to go.”

“Go where?” asked Marguerite.

“To die, to meet my maker. Why else did you bring the angel of death with you?”

“Gladys, this is Cathy Watts, soon to be Lady Cameron when she marries Lord Simon Cameron. Why on earth did you think she was someone coming to harm you? In fact it’s quite the opposite she’s come to…”

“Please, Marguerite, just be quiet, I’d like to concentrate if I may.”

“Sorry,” was whispered back and I glared at her. After my withering stare, I turned my gaze upon Gladys. She was very old and in poor health, I didn’t think I’d be able to do much for her.

“I’m Cathy,” I said reaching out my hand to her.

“Pleased to meet you, your ladyship.”

“Let’s not dwell on ceremony,” I said. and she took my hand. Hers was icy and I felt a cold jolt through my whole body. Then a rush of energy down my arm, which got very hot then cold. The old lady gasped and closed her eyes. For a moment I thought she was dead.

The energy continued pulsing down my arm. For a moment I felt a tightness in my chest and difficulty in breathing, then it got very warm in the room and the pain in my chest went. Her hand slipped out of mine and fell onto her lap.

I stepped back. “Is she going to be okay?” asked Marguerite.

“I don’t honestly know.” I shrugged and turned to leave.

“I’ll be fine,” came a voice from the bed. “I’m going to die, I know that. I’ve got lung cancer haven’t I, Cathy?”

“I think so. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, you showed me something I never thought I’d see.” The old lady seemed brighter than when we’d entered the room. “I saw heaven, and it was a beautiful garden with birds singing and flowers in bloom. I saw the sun shining and children were playing, the one I lost, she was still born is now a little girl, we called her Emily, she was dancing around a maypole and said she’d wait for me. Thank you, my dear for showing me this, now I’m no longer afeared of dying. In fact, I’m quite looking forward to it and maybe I won’t be a useless old woman, no more.”

“But … but, Cathy … I brought Cathy here to heal you,” stuttered Marguerite, “What’s gone wrong?”

“Nothin’ my dear,” said the old lady, “I’ve had me time, Marguerite, “and now I’m quite happy to go with my Emily. It don’t scare me no more. I mean if a baby ain’t scared, how can I be?” she smiled serenely. “I told you she was the angel of death, but what a nice gift she brung me. Thank you, my dear.” She beamed at me and laying back complained at how tired she was.

We took our leave before Bernard could bring through the tea. I just wanted out, the whole experience left me feeling – I don’t know – but it felt sordid. “Sorry, you didn’t get your miracle.” I said as we walked briskly back to the vicarage.

“Didn’t I? Are you the angel of death?”

“Me? No, just some poor confused aristocrat’s girlfriend, and struggling foster mother.”

“You knew she wasn’t going to get any better, didn’t you?”

“The house reeked of death and cancer. He’s got it too, but he doesn’t know it, in the colon. He’ll be with her and their little girl, within six months.”

“Cathy, I must tell him.”

“You can’t, he’s too busy looking after her, and besides it’s too late. Make him an invalid and she’ll end up in the hospital for her last days, let him care for her, it will help him deal with his grief. He won’t suffer with his illness and it will be very brief.”

“How do you know this?”

“I don’t, well, okay, I do, but I can’t tell you how or why.”

“It’s fascinating, if a little frightening.”

“Who’s Pattie?”

“My youngest, why? Oh God, Cathy, what’s wrong with her?”

“She had a blemish on the side of her face.”

“Had, she still has, a port-wine stain, she’s very conscious of it.”

“Had. I must collect my two and go.”

We walked – well I walked, Marguerite ran and practically smashed the door down. She called urgently for Pattie, who appeared and her mother grabbed her and examined her face. She screamed and hugged the child to her. My two appeared to see what had happened. I beckoned them and they got their backpacks and we stole away.

“Why did that lady scream, Mummy?” Trish asked.

“I think she got something she wanted but wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh, was that to do with your blue light, I thought I saw some?”

“Maybe, sweetheart, just maybe.”