Neil at The Christening
With no living parents, reunions with Neil’s two divorced siblings, Bev and John, were becoming rare. On one of the more unexpected occasions, he arrived at Weymouth Station from London. Bev’s daughter, Becky, wanted to be baptised.
As clouds were rolling in, Neil was pleased to spot John’s car. He climbed into the Vectra, mud-spattered after its journey from Grantham. Traces of factory grime under his fingernails, John drove off, ranting about Bev’s best friend.
“Jen’s been telling me where I went wrong with my divorce. She’s driving me mad!”
Neil felt unqualified to comment, being unmarried, childless and a stranger to the legal profession. He threw John a smirk.
“You look smart, Neil!” Bev exclaimed, as they arrived at her house, Jen hovering behind her.
“Glad I’ve done something right,” he replied.
While sitting in the living room, Neil overheard whispering in the hall.
“Why didn’t you ask Neil to be a godparent?”
“Could’ve done, I suppose,” sniffed Bev.
An hour later, they trekked by people-carrier convoy to a village church, with scaffolding around its steeple and daffodils huddled in conspiratorial clusters along its gravel paths.
As the vicar called the godparents to join Bev and Becky at the font, Neil stood at the end of the pews, feeling out of place.
Afterwards, the vicar asked him, “Are you Becky’s other uncle?”
“Yes!”
His reply was so terse, the vicar walked away like a scientist stumped by his results.
As the church was emptying, they decamped to a café. John said a few words and presented Becky with a pendant.
By five o’clock, they were back at Bev’s. His walk-on part over, Neil needed help with his exit. On the sofa, Bev and John giggled and nudged each other. Neil’s bloodstream ran with thwarted adrenaline until John agreed to resume the role of chauffeur. Another short ride, not notable for its conversation, reconnected Neil with the rail network.
While travelling back to his small flat and office job, he reflected on his record of regular visits, cards and gifts, wondering why he was sliding into unworthiness.
#
On Becky’s next birthday, Neil and Bev were talking on the phone.
“We’re off to Wiltshire this weekend. Jen’s marrying a pagan. The wedding’s at Stonehenge. They’ll be dressed in purple.”
As Neil chuckled, Bev’s tone lightened. Like water bugs, they glided across a fragile meniscus.