Loving God

Loving God

     by Douglas the Divine

I liked what I saw. 

        There was Joe, the oldest. He leaned against the fireplace, his pipe in his hand, talking to his dog. The family fortunes had been dealt a death blow and they were all standing in the kitchen of the old manor house for the last time. The last of the horses, heavy Percherons, being led away by new owners, swayed and thumped, shod hooves slipping on the cobblestones of the courtyard. 

        "Yer won't be getting such as this much longer, will yer?" Joe sang out to the small dog lying by the fender. He held out a rind of bacon from his empty breakfast plate. His drooping, horsey features and bowed head spoke of defeat. He was engaged to the neighbouring estate owner's daughter, Doris. He would marry, step into harness and go to work for her father. The others, Joe thought, especially Mabel, were not as fortunate as he. 

        "What are'ter going to do with yourself then?" he said to Mabel as she bent to clear her brothers' plates from the table. She spoke no word nor acknowledged him with a look. 

        "Yer can't sleep on the streets that's sure," he added, but Mabel said nothing. "Might be yer could keep hoose fer aunty crost toon. Till yer find anither place as'll hav ter." 

        Henry, the middle brother, kept quiet until he noticed Dr. Ferguson coming up the drive. 

        "There's the doc," he said leaning out to see the front step in the courtyard. 

         "Is he turning in?" asked Malcolm the youngest. He said little. He felt less concern than the others. He was young and stood a better chance of making his mark than they. 

          "Yes. Here he is." Henry went to the door as the doctor knocked. Mabel nodded to the visitor as he entered and then left the room.

        "Sulkiest bitch that ever trod," Henry said, shaking his head in the direction of her disappearing back. "What should we do tonight? The Tap and Spyglass? Jill and Denise at least will be there." The doctor nodded and smiled. He took the drop of whiskey Joe held up to him and raised his glass in a toast. 

          John Ferguson practiced in the countryside far from Liverpool where he'd been educated because once here he had grown to like the rough and ready people. They were suspicious people, unwilling to see a doctor except when death made it preferable, and they were in every way difficult to meet. Yet, he would not have traded this lonely, unwelcoming place for the city. 

        He passed the cemetery and was startled to see Mabel kneeling at a grave. She looked up at him then, seeing him too, and stared at him with dangerous eyes. They mesmerized him, leaving him weak. Where before this moment he had felt light and free, now his spirit sagged under the weight of her powerful eyes. The oppression passed the moment he moved out of her sight, but it took some time before lightness returned to his step, to his heart.