Henry and Cato by Iris Murdoch Page A

Gerald asked him if he would like to join in. That had been a year ago; and the ‘Mission’, as the local people called it, had come into being. In the original plan there were to have been three resident priests and a visiting Sacred Heart nun. The third priest, an eccentric called Reggie Poole, was present during the initial period of house-renovation and settling in, but afterwards mysteriously disappeared and was later said to have been sent to Japan. The Sacred Heart changed their mind about sending a nun, perhaps as a result of something which they had heard about Reggie. Gerald and Cato ran the Mission very haphazardly, each with his own kind of zeal. Cato in fact found it rather hard to get on at such close quarters with his brother in Christ, who was far from efficient and never stopped talking. However, after the Mission had existed for some time and was certainly a going concern, Gerald too disappeared from the strength after a punch-up with a penitent, an incident obscure in origin which landed Gerald in hospital with a broken jaw. After this it became clear that the enterprise must be either rescued or abandoned. The local authority conveniently decided about this time that it wanted to pull down the whole street, so the project was able to end without any awful stigma of failure.
    The Mission had indeed, for all that it existed in a state of unparalleled muddle, not been entirely unsuccessful. ‘They’ll love us!’ Gerald had shouted. Cato had thought it more likely that they would be ignored or mocked. But, whether because Gerald and Reggie were so picturesque or because Cato was more experienced, the priests found themselves quite popular. There was a great difference between visiting a poor area and going home to a clean book-lined room, and living in a poor area night and day. It was now impossible to escape from people. The Mission became a centre not only for Catholics but for all sorts of people who were in trouble, wanting spiritual or temporal advice, or a chance to sponge on somebody or steal something. The simple worldly possessions of the Mission, saucepans, crockery, cutlery, linen, blankets, transistor sets, even books, began to disappear during the first two months. In the early days, on principle, they never locked the door; later on they took to locking up simply in order to preserve a kit for survival. Cato, forced to be a one man citizens’ advice bureau, became expert on all sorts of practical matters concerning supplementary benefits, rent rebates, tenancy agreements, hire purchase, legal costs, insurance and how to fill in tax forms. He had felt disappointed at first that so little time seemed to be spent talking seriously to people and getting to know them. He would have liked to bring the reality of Christ to those whom he saw sunk in misery or upon the slippery edges of crime. Later he was too busy and too tired to worry about such matters or to seek to make opportunities for such ‘serious talk’. He went on hearing confessions but now did not experience the worries he had confided to Brendan. He celebrated mass every day, sometimes almost alone, at a side altar in the big local church. His time came to be spent, especially after Gerald’s departure, more with atheistic social workers and less with fellow catholics or ‘devotional’ people.
    During this year Cato had felt himself changing. He felt like a plant growing yet not able to be conscious of what the changes were which were daily taking place in its form and texture. He began to feel more independent, more individualistic, less, in his relation to the Church, like a child. He took to wearing a cassock all the time, unusual for a Roman priest, arguing to Brendan that if Reggie Poole could go about looking like a hippy, he could at least sport a black robe if he pleased. He felt independent, but, amid his many clients, solitary. ‘You’ll miss us’, Brendan had said. He did.