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I stared at him. “Bloody hell, things must have relaxed a bit since I last parked my arse in a pew.”
“Let me say that when I was with the army I witnessed things that made me realise that Satan is busier now than he’s ever been, and what you’ve just so bravely disclosed today only serves to reinforce that belief. I’m never going to take my place in the Vatican and personally, I’m now of an age and an inclination where as long as two people love each other and do their very best not to hurt each other, I’m not going to start poking the situation with a stick; I’ll just assume the pair of you have separate rooms and leave it there if that’s okay?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” I grinned, and the priest laughed at my obvious and slightly bashful relief. That only left one more burning question. “Father, you mentioned that you owed Lili a favour. Could I ask what that was?”
“Oh that.” The priest grinned. “Sure. So every two years Santa Marita hosts a community triathlon: swimming, cycling, then a run to finish you off. For charity, you know? Teams come from all over the area: the college, local businesses, churches, the mosque in San Alejandro. Every time Santa María Magdalena would put in a team and every time we would get our asses kicked. Especially by the mosque guys – their imam’s a serious marathon runner. He was nearly in the Olympic team when he was at university, apparently.
So this one time, I remember seeing this young woman running past the church every morning without breaking a sweat and I think that maybe she can give us some advice. You know, a few training tips, how not to die of a heart attack, that kind of thing.” The priest gave a snort of laughter. “Instead she spends the next three months training me and four of my ministry team like she’s our sergeant major then joins us herself. Our secret weapon.”
“Really? This is my Lilith, right? The one who refers to God as ‘the Great Sky Fairy’ if she’s feeling generous?”
The priest nodded. “Oh yes. She shared her views with me the first time I talked to her. Apparently the fact I’d recently irritated half the town council by supporting plans for an asylum seekers’ hostel balanced out my psychiatric impairment. Oops. No offence.” He cast me a guilty glance.
I smiled. “None taken. So what was the outcome?”
“Well, we came eighteenth out of twenty teams in the previous competition. That year we came fourth.”
“And the team from the mosque?”
Father Baroja attempted a pious expression. “Ah, that shouldn’t matter. We were purely in competition with ourselves and our own imperfect bodies, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. But?”
He gave a mischievous grin. “Fourth. We kicked their asses. It took months before the imam would sit next to me at an interfaith meeting, and all thanks to your Lilith, bless her heathen soul.”
Chapter Eight
Finn
As the weeks passed, I healed. Not all at once, and certainly not completely, but with every day I became stronger in mind and body. I attended every session of counselling, CBT and physio that had been timetabled, and swallowed the contents of each little plastic cup that was placed in front of me. As a result, the bad days became fewer in number and I slept longer. Most of the time I didn’t even shriek like a harpy if I did wake up in the small hours.
Finally, eight weeks, three days and eleven hours since my admission, Luis sat on my bed and watched me throw my clothes into a holdall. “You sure I can’t tempt you to book in for another week or so?” he asked.
I grinned. “I can’t fault the room service, but I think I’m going to have to pass on that if it’s all the same.”
Luis clutched his chest. “Oof, right in the feels. That hurt me, man.”
“It’s nothing personal.” I put my earbuds back in their little case and packed it carefully into the end pocket of my bag. “Just reckoned I should give this ‘life’ business a try, y’know?”
Luis sighed and passed me a t-shirt. “Ah well, had to happen sometime, I suppose. Okay, so one last exam.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ah c’mon Luis! I’ve passed every test you’ve thrown at me so far, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, but this is the theory. You only got through the practical.”
“Er, with flying colours, if you remember.”
Luis’ ‘practical’ had involved a series of increasingly lengthy trips away from the Clinica to a local café, presumably to see if I was going to start biting the furniture. Or the proprietor. On the basis that I hadn’t disgraced myself, I had finally been allowed to progress to this next round: freedom.
“Humour me here, okay?” he asked. “You’ve travelled a million miles these last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to have a few rocky days to go with the good ones. You ready?” he asked.
Luis came a close second to Lilith when it came to wearing a man down. I did the sensible thing and surrendered. “Go on then.”
Luis cleared his throat. “Okay. So if you have any concerns at all, any worries, any Uh oh, I’m not feelin’ so good here moments, even if it’s three in the morning, what you going to do?”
“Call you,” I recited.
“And if by some ridiculous chance I’m actually not at my post?”
