Sunday, September 7, 2008
Much sunnier today, I’m pleased to note, although the rain has left the fields with a high water table. I got splattered with mud just by Felicia running past. I can see myself having to find a different walk when the weather worsens.
Since it’s Sunday, I took my usual jaunt around the two churches. How interesting to see the regular churchgoers when their sins are painted like tattoos over their skins.
I left Frank to his memories and let myself out of his house. At least the rain had subsided, although the clouds were an oppressive steel grey that I didn’t like the look of. I wondered if someone up there was watching me, tracking my investigation into the mystery of St Marples’ and ready to let loose a thunderbolt or two. I know from my dealings with the angel Sansuriel that the subject of the Antichrist was on the Banned List.
I got as far as the gate before Frank called me back. “Wait,” he said. “I’ve got something for you.”
I’m always up for a present, so back I went. He rummaged in the cupboard under the stairs* and produced something three feet long wrapped in a piece of authentic seventies curtain material. “This is his sword,” he said. “Take it. The damn thing has only ever brought me bad luck.”
I nodded. “Thanks,” I said. “This will go some way to clearing your guilt.”
“Yes,” he said. “Perhaps not I can remember Matt as the kind soul who always put a sandwich in my hand and a pound note in my pocket.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But mostly you should remember him as the violent young man who tried to cut up a five year old boy. Good day to you.”
The door slammed before I’d even got half way down the path, so for sheer devilment I knocked his satellite dish out of alignment.