Flux

speaking to Graham, could I have your telephone banking number please?”
    “I don’t have one.”
    “You do need that sir, for security reasons.”
    “Can’t I please just speak to somebody?”
    “Not without your pass code I’m afraid. Do you want me to post you one?”
    “No, I want to speak to somebody about my account please.”
    “Well, I’m afraid I can’t divulge any information without the code.”
    “Are you a robot?”
    “No sir.”
    “Well you sound like one,” and then, “Never mind.” Iain hung up before reaching the point of shouting and swearing into the phone.
    He didn’t know where he was going to turn and felt desperate, unable to cope with the mounting pressure. Iain needed to speak to someone without jeopardising his chance to earn some money; it also had to be somebody who could keep a secret. He couldn’t speak to his friends; they would worry and nag him to tell the doctor. He found himself thumbing Tim’s card. Turning, he made his way back through the doors in search of the clergyman.
    The chapel was deserted and silent. The silence was a blessing, as intended; it was a place of rest and quiet contemplation. Iain took a seat at one of the pews, it was only a small room, with daffodils in vases around the walls, and a small altar at the front, which held a book of condolence and a bible. On the front of the altar was a cross made of dark polished wood. Iain sat, not really thinking of anything, and enjoying the fact that no thoughts sprang into his mind.
    The room started to spin around him; with an audible pop, the cross on the altar spontaneously burst into flame. Shocked, he sat, transfixed; he could feel the heat on his face as flames licked the ceiling and the crucifix blackened and split. He thought he could see faint and grotesque figures dancing in the fire. A noise from behind snapped him from his trance.
    Spinning around, he saw Tim had entered the room. With mouth half open but no words forthcoming, Iain tried to signal to the fire, wondering why the clergyman wasn’t reacting. When he turned back, all was as it should be, quiet and serene. No sign that there had ever been flames shooting from the altar.

Chapter Fourteen
    False Start

    “Hello there. Can I help you with anything?” Tim’s voice was soft and kind.
    Iain snapped shut his gaping mouth, like a fish. Wide eyed, he was speechless.
    “Iain isn’t it?”
    “Erm, yes.”
    “Do you want me to leave you in peace for a while?” already backing towards the exit. Iain must have looked terrible, like the man in turmoil he was.
    “No, please stay,” not knowing quite where to start.
    Tim said nothing.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Go ahead.” The clergyman slid onto the wooden bench, next to Iain
    “Is anything I say to you in confidence?”
    “Of course it is.”
    “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    Iain took a deep breath, and started. He told Tim everything, from waking up in hospital, his encounter with Bert, and again in the high street. The ghosts he saw, the nightmares and everything else in-between. All the time Tim sat listening without interruption.
    “So, what do you think it all means?” Iain asked when he’d finished.
    “I think you should tell the doctor.”
    “I can’t.”
    “I’d strongly advise it.”
    “Seriously, if I do, I’ll end up on the street.”
    “I wouldn’t have thought it’d come to that, there are places which can help.”
    “I can handle it.”
    “You’re not handling it very well so far if you don’t mind me saying so. Something might be seriously wrong.”
    “Or it might be real? You believe in such things”
    “Hmmm. But I’ve never witnessed anything, and from what I see, you’ve not experienced God’s influence.”
    “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He didn’t mean it, sharing had lifted a huge weight from his shoulders.
    “Yes, you should. I just wish you’d speak to the doctor. Let me do it?”
    “No, you promised.”
    “I know.”
    They’d reached the natural end of the conversation. Iain checked the time, he’d been in the chapel for over an hour.
    “I have to go and get my letter now,” he said.
    “Well, if you need to talk again, then please don’t hesitate to call me.” Tim reached to get a card.
    “I already have one of those.”
    And with that he got up and made his way back to the neurology department, picking up the letter from the prim lady behind the desk whose puckered mouth looked like an anus.