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Marty Mayvor is added to the list.
Note Chapter 8 is very short
Chapter 7
Absent Minds
Tony’s caseload fluctuated. Thirty five cases were as much as he could take on comfortably. Some cases required several sessions while others were over in a matter of half an hour, particularly if the GPs had proscribed appropriate medication and patients were returning home with support. Ages ranged from eighteen to eighty. The CAMHS service (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) attended to juveniles while the dementia clinics and geriatric counsellors attended to the over eighties. The demography was as distinct as the left from the right hand and it held professionals as well as unemployed individuals and those in every kind of occupation and relationship both established and transient. It was not surprising that Tony detected another case with a clerical perception when it came along.
Marty Mayvor fell into the Baha’i religion by chance. It was in her final year of university that she encountered this peace loving, understanding and all-embracing religion. She came from a sheltered Irish family drenched in Catholicism but found the harmonious and multi-ethnic tenets of the new faith rewarding. It welcomed her and she thought she had found her new home. Two months after her mathematics graduation, she began to work at a secondary school. Life was bringing its rewards and her mind began to focus on finding a husband and being a mother.
As the school Christmas Pantomime gave its last performance, Marty walked home to prepare a Christmas atmosphere in time for her parent’s arrival from Brazil. But an unmarked police car approached her home. It turned into her drive, parked and the doors opened. Two police officers approached the front door.
‘Miss Mayvor?’ asked Sergeant Karen Scott.
‘Yes, officer,’ said Marty observing two nervous police officers.
‘May we come in? We have some sad news for you.’
Marty fumbled with her front door latch. Her fingers shook uncontrollably. Her heart was racing. She could not accept that bad news could be coming. She invited the officers to enter her lounge. She put the light on and closed the curtains.
‘Please have a seat,’ she said as she herself sat down on a hard backed chair hardly placing any weight on it. It began to tip forward.
‘Your parents, Owen and Hilary Mayvor were in Brazil?’ asked Inspector Brian Fox.
‘That’s right. They work for the White Fathers in Brazil. They are responsible for all the financial side of their work,’ said Marty in staccato words as a veil seemed to descend and reality hit her.
‘It’s my parents. They have been killed haven’t they? Haven’t they, well?’
Both officers nodded simultaneously.
‘I am sorry. It seems that they were flying in a two-seater Albatross L60 monoplane,’ said the Inspector as Constable Karen Scott approached Marty and placed her hands on her shoulders.
‘Yes, I know that’s how they travel between stations, but....what else...’
‘Last Friday there was a storm, lightening too, apparently. It seems they came down in the Mato Grosso between Guiratinga and Diamantino. That was where they left from and .....were heading for,’ said the police officer in a quiet responsible voice.
‘But it’s just that the plane is missing perhaps?’ Marty said with hope in her voice.
‘I’m afraid not. Wreckage was sighted and there was no sign of life. I am truly sorry Miss Mayvor, both your parents died.’
That was two years ago. Since then she had travelled to Brazil and met many of her parent’s former colleagues. They flew her to where the plane came down and Marty saw the remains of the wreckage. She walked though the fuselage and turned over some of the wreckage which had never been removed. She bent down and found a sandal she recognised as her mother’s. She placed it in her bag. She spent a total of seventeen days in Brazil before returning home.
That Christmas no decorations were on display in her house. Marty descended into a deep depression lasting the five days of the Christmas holiday until the first few days of the New Year. The very same thing happened the following year and found her in a far deeper place from which she had no energy to escape. Her deputy head called to see her and met her in a slurred daze. He wasted no time. His assessment was of meeting a very ill colleague. He suspected alcoholism. He called for an ambulance.
And so in due time, Marty appeared at Tony’s surgery. When they met, there was no sign of depression, or alcoholism.
‘The two episodes, they are seasonal, not so?’ he asked.
‘Yes that’s right,’ she agreed clinging on to her orange handbag.
‘No illness throughout the year?’
‘Nop, just at Christmas.’
Tony contemplated her defensive Nop as unexpected, out of character so far. ‘It was a terrible time to lose your parents.’
‘I know. I had been so much looking forward to seeing them that year. I had not seen them for three years.’
‘What will you do next Christmas?’
‘Next Christmas? That seems so far away. I cannot say if this will be a recurring depression,’ she said smiling with optimism in her cheeks.
‘I think I can. Unless we break this cycle, the pattern will be established. Tell me, your notes show you are a Baha’i follower. Is that right?’
‘Yes, that’s true.’
‘They don’t celebrate Christmas do they?’
‘No, nor the New Year. We have a different calendar.’
‘I see,’ said Tony. ‘Perhaps if you spent some time with them over the Christmas week it might help.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’
‘I think you might also benefit from a group session I am organising. It is yet to get off the ground but I think you would be a good candidate.’
‘Oh, you think so?’
‘Yes, they are all known to me and all have a clerical background,’ said Tony looking for a flicker of reaction to his proposal.
‘I’m a busy teacher. I might not make all the meetings.’
‘I think a Monday night for an hour and a half each week should be adequate. Would you care to join the group?
‘A self help group?’
‘Yes, I think that is what it is becoming. You see clerics are all figures in their communities. They have a persona to show but an interior which is under strain. It’s good to know that others feel the same and if they don’t do anything about it, it leads to a referral after what I might call a breakdown or an incident.’
‘So it’s a crash course?’
Tony smiled. ‘Crash? No. I hope it’s a course for winners.’
Chapter 8
Ramblers Anonymous
Tony’s car was the twelfth and last car to park at the Overton village car park. Counting him, there was a good turnout of eighteen ramblers. Stuart, the leader of the group announced he was expecting no more turning up that Saturday morning. That made Tony feel he was the naughty late comer. As the grey clouds gathered above them, he welcomed a new member to the group. Karen Kane. He pointed to her.
‘You can get to know her on the walk. Don’t all come at her at once or she’ll never turn up again,’ he laughed.
A few voiced some guffaws. Tony looked at his patient. Confident, wearing a tricoloured woollen-knitted toorie on her head, she wore wine cords and under a warm navy anorak, a powder blue sweater. By far she seemed the youngest of the group and she was. He chose not to walk too near her.
It was Pam who accompanied her. Pam the retired dentist who’s silky silvery black hair was neatly cut but not styled or tinted. She had an air of confidence and seniority.
‘I’ve seen you in town. Have you been here long?’ asked Pam
‘About seven years now. I’m a teacher.’
‘No, I seem to remember you somewhere else.’
Karen chose not to rise to the church organist bait and manoeuvred her way out of the tricky questioning.
Loch Kindar emerged over a hillock’s horizon and the downward approach was both exhilarating and interesting as each step seemed to enlarge the loch.
‘I thought we were climbing Criffel today,’ said Karen.
‘We’ve done Criffel a few times and it’s now a tradition we open our flasks for morning coffee by the water’s edge. We’ll be climbing soon enough,’ said Pam striding forth with her two walking sticks.
Alex, the educational social worker was talkative. As the steam rose skyward from opened flasks, he asked if anyone knew where was Santa Fe?
‘New Mexico,’ said Karen confidently answering as Tony thought South America somewhere but both were wrong.
‘No. Santa’s fae Finland.’
A few got the joke straight away. Pam who originated from Kent took a little longer to get an ear for the Scots tongue. When it was realised, her laugh was as loud as any. It created a friendly atmosphere.
‘I’ve got a joke,’ said Karen hoping this was a good opportunity to break into the group and be heartily welcomed.
‘If you meet a bear in the woods, how do you coax him out?’
The assembled thought for a moment but blank stares ensured no answer was forthcoming.
‘Give it French cheese,’ she said but silence continued. Karen flexed a coaching index finger towards herself. ‘Come on Bear,’ she said.
‘Ah I get it. Camembert,’ said Pam and the whole group got the joke.
‘The two of you should be on stage,’ suggested Alex. Tony was pleased his patient’s medication was working well. Very pleased.
Before they reached the summit of Criffel, the over burdened clouds burst. It fell straight down onto the waterproofed ramblers. They walked closer and Tony’s thoughts turned to his patient. She had humour, intelligence, beauty and was active. It was just what his dreams created in his sleeping moments. If only she was not his patient. If only he had met her for the very first time on this walk. How different that might have been, especially as she wore no ring. His dreams created the perfect image and encouraged him in her acquaintance but his thoughts turned to the dark suited fraternity of his professional association wagging a finger over the client relationship. He had to get her off his books as soon as he could safely do so. That had to be his goal.
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Web Site:
A Clerical Murder
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I came across the Baha'i faith a few years ago and hadn't heard of it before. Very interesting, their views. I did have a brief relationship with a student once after she got her MBA and was being courted by New York Stock Exchange brokers. I was safe because she had graduated and had never been a student in my classes.
It looks like Tony is using his wits to figure out a way to put a little romance in his life. By the title of the book, I hope it doesn't backfire.
Ron