Such Men Are Dangerous Read Online Free PDF

about that afterwards.”
    “You see, it’s hard to tell now what we noticed at the time and what we pieced together later, by comparing notes.”
    “Because it was really what he said that mattered.”
    Simon drew a deep breath. “All right, then.” He looked slowly from one to the other. “Now what exactly did he say?”
    “Who do you want to hear it from?” asked William.
    “Whichever you like. Why not you?”
    “Okay. We can both remember it off by heart.” He paused. “Well, after he’d asked if we’d pass on a message for him, the first thing he said was that God’s pretty cheesed off with the world, and now more than ever…”
    Here Simon noticed that William’s eyes were closed.
    “‘Don’t you see? You have the know-how, you have the means. If you’d wanted, you could have put an end to such quantities of suffering. All it needed was the one ingredient which your so-called realist dismisses as naiveté but which we describe as love. That’s all it still needs. But only look around you. What do you mostly find? Grab, grab, grab on the part of the big fry; helplessness, or an equal lack of concern, on the part of the small. This can’t go on. You’ve got to learn, all of you, you’ve got to learn to let go. To have faith. To care about one another. It’s really not so hard and it even feels good, too. But it is urgent. People have to be made to realize, wake up, take action. To move forward generously, insistently and without fear. In the name of the Lord. It can be done, you know.’”
    William opened his eyes.
    Michael had been gazing at his brother, Dawn had looked flushed and shiny-faced with pride. Simon’s own eyes had been directed mainly at the carpet.
    There was a lengthy pause.
    “And then he…just disappeared?” asked Simon, finally.
    “Yes. He ruffled our hair, said, ‘Well, good luck, see you both again someday,’ and was gone. It was over. We realized we were in the car park behind Tiffany’s.”
    “Feeling what?”
    “Tremendous.”
    “We haven’t squabbled at all since then, not once,” Michael said. The brothers looked at each other with affection.
    “Uh-huh. Let’s hope you can keep that up.” Simon bit his lip. “Do you think one of you could write me out a copy?”
    “We already have.” Michael had taken a piece of lined paper out of his dressing-gown pocket. It was folded into four.
    “Thanks.”
    Simon then spoke as much to the mother as her sons.
    “Look. For the present I don’t want to make any comment. I need to think this whole thing over, quietly and alone. But I’ll be back before the weekend. In the meantime I’d suggest you try to keep it all very much to yourselves.”
    He paused.
    “And, William, Michael, if anything else occurs to you…well, of course you’ll let me know.”
    But driving home he wondered if it would have been better simply to come out with it: “I can’t believe in this. How could you expect me to? A message so incredibly banal!”
    Then, on impulse, he made a small detour. He stopped the car outside the church.
    Yet the half hour which he again spent before the altar, on his knees and in the dark, supplied no sense of certainty or calm.
    When he arrived back at the vicarage it was after twelve. He went into his study, poured himself a large whisky and telephoned the hospital.
    “Can you tell me how Mrs Turner is tonight?”
    “Oh, yes, Reverend Madison. She was allowed home after supper. Dr Patel thinks the baby’s going to be fine. Naturally, she’ll need to take things easy for a while.”
    “What, with a baby in the house and two young children to see to already? And a mother-in-law who—even when she’s around—has a problem with the drink? Still,” he said. “Thank heaven for Dr Patel.”
    He wished the sister a peaceful night but didn’t feel that he himself would have one. On his desk there stood a framed photograph. He picked it up and for a moment merely stared at it. Then he kissed the glass.