kettle and poured the tea. Tessa came back and sat on the edge of the armchair .
‘What did Mary say at the prayer group?’ I asked her.
Tessa said, ‘She felt that God was sending her a special message. She said that whatever anyone else said, she knew when she saw this man’s face that it was the face of our saviour. She said that she was a little hurt that you didn’t really believe her.’ Tessa paused, looking at her hands. ‘She said that you thought it might have been the man’s brother.’
Then, as I sat with the warm mug of tea in my hands, I realised that something very odd had happened. It hadn’t occurred to me at all that Mary might have had some kind of vision. Instead, I had taken it as a statement of absolutereality that Mary had seen a man who looked like the dead man. I felt myself going hot all over with a kind of embarrassment.
‘What’s the matter, Richard?’
I sipped my tea. ‘Oh, I was just thinking that I hadn’t handled Mary very well, that’s all. I must think about it, and have a talk with her.’
Tessa got up from her chair, put the empty mug down on the tray, and came over to me. She put her hand on my arm and squeezed it gently. ‘Oh, I’m sure you handled her much better than I did,’ she said. ‘But do write that article. Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’
She took her hand off my arm, and hovered in the room for a moment. The faint aura of some perfume hung about her, and I was reminded for a moment of Harriet. I looked up at Tessa and smiled. Then she suddenly said, ‘I must go,’ backing away from me and nearly colliding with the coffee table. She was gone in an instant, leaving me to my thoughts, and for some reason which I couldn’t understand I felt abominably uncomfortable.
T he Incident in the Rose Garden
On Saturday it was fine so Harriet and I had the afternoon off and took the children to Clissold Park to ride their bicycles. As always, when we’d fed the ducks, looked at the peacocks and deer and been to the playground, we went for a cup of tea for us and an ice-cream for the boys at the café.
The children ran off in the sunshine and went to play a game jumping off the wall down into the shrubbery. I glanced over at the rose garden, then turned to Harriet, about to tell her what Mary had said to me the other day.
Harriet was staring very oddly in that direction. I turned and followed her gaze. There was a gardener there, dressed in old clothes and dirty gardening gloves, pullingout the weeds. He was bent over and I couldn’t see his face. Harriet turned her head away and went back to drinking her tea without saying anything. Then she excused herself and went off to the loo.
I sat and waited for a few minutes. Then I got up and walked down from the terrace to enter the rose garden. The man was a few feet from me, bending right over. He looked up when I stood there and straightened up, putting his hand in front of his eyes to shield them from the sun.
I didn’t say anything. I was incapable of doing so. My throat felt dry, my legs felt numb and my heart began to thump in the most alarming manner. It was the same man. There was no doubt in my mind at all. I turned round and walked away from him at once, running up the steps, looking for Harriet. She wasn’t there, and her bag had gone from the chair. Unreasoning terror swept over me; I went round behind the café to the loos but she was not there either. I ran back on to the path; neither the children nor Harriet were in sight. They had vanished.
I felt a panic sweep over me that I had felt only once before, when Thomas had gone missing for twenty minutes in a crowded market on holiday in France. I looked around, began to run. As I hurtled down the path I heard a voice calling me, ‘Dad, Dad.’ I turned round. Thomas was waving to me. They were all standing further down the path, Thomas, Joshie and Harriet, waiting for me.
We got back to the car. My heart was still pounding and I felt sick.
‘What did Mary say at the prayer group?’ I asked her.
Tessa said, ‘She felt that God was sending her a special message. She said that whatever anyone else said, she knew when she saw this man’s face that it was the face of our saviour. She said that she was a little hurt that you didn’t really believe her.’ Tessa paused, looking at her hands. ‘She said that you thought it might have been the man’s brother.’
Then, as I sat with the warm mug of tea in my hands, I realised that something very odd had happened. It hadn’t occurred to me at all that Mary might have had some kind of vision. Instead, I had taken it as a statement of absolutereality that Mary had seen a man who looked like the dead man. I felt myself going hot all over with a kind of embarrassment.
‘What’s the matter, Richard?’
I sipped my tea. ‘Oh, I was just thinking that I hadn’t handled Mary very well, that’s all. I must think about it, and have a talk with her.’
Tessa got up from her chair, put the empty mug down on the tray, and came over to me. She put her hand on my arm and squeezed it gently. ‘Oh, I’m sure you handled her much better than I did,’ she said. ‘But do write that article. Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’
She took her hand off my arm, and hovered in the room for a moment. The faint aura of some perfume hung about her, and I was reminded for a moment of Harriet. I looked up at Tessa and smiled. Then she suddenly said, ‘I must go,’ backing away from me and nearly colliding with the coffee table. She was gone in an instant, leaving me to my thoughts, and for some reason which I couldn’t understand I felt abominably uncomfortable.
T he Incident in the Rose Garden
On Saturday it was fine so Harriet and I had the afternoon off and took the children to Clissold Park to ride their bicycles. As always, when we’d fed the ducks, looked at the peacocks and deer and been to the playground, we went for a cup of tea for us and an ice-cream for the boys at the café.
The children ran off in the sunshine and went to play a game jumping off the wall down into the shrubbery. I glanced over at the rose garden, then turned to Harriet, about to tell her what Mary had said to me the other day.
Harriet was staring very oddly in that direction. I turned and followed her gaze. There was a gardener there, dressed in old clothes and dirty gardening gloves, pullingout the weeds. He was bent over and I couldn’t see his face. Harriet turned her head away and went back to drinking her tea without saying anything. Then she excused herself and went off to the loo.
I sat and waited for a few minutes. Then I got up and walked down from the terrace to enter the rose garden. The man was a few feet from me, bending right over. He looked up when I stood there and straightened up, putting his hand in front of his eyes to shield them from the sun.
I didn’t say anything. I was incapable of doing so. My throat felt dry, my legs felt numb and my heart began to thump in the most alarming manner. It was the same man. There was no doubt in my mind at all. I turned round and walked away from him at once, running up the steps, looking for Harriet. She wasn’t there, and her bag had gone from the chair. Unreasoning terror swept over me; I went round behind the café to the loos but she was not there either. I ran back on to the path; neither the children nor Harriet were in sight. They had vanished.
I felt a panic sweep over me that I had felt only once before, when Thomas had gone missing for twenty minutes in a crowded market on holiday in France. I looked around, began to run. As I hurtled down the path I heard a voice calling me, ‘Dad, Dad.’ I turned round. Thomas was waving to me. They were all standing further down the path, Thomas, Joshie and Harriet, waiting for me.
We got back to the car. My heart was still pounding and I felt sick.
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