Jack and the medieval mystics Chapter 4

Family matters

The psychology department was pretty quiet and I got my photocopying done without being bothered by other people waiting for the machines. On the way out, I cast an eye over the notice board, half wondering whether I should find another house. It seemed like Freddie was planning on staying.

There was a new notice, about something called the Evan Williams Prize. Open to final year psychology students. I read the small print. It was offering cash and the chance of peer review and publication for the best experiment, devised and conducted solely by the student concerned. And it had to be in an innovative area — something that was pushing the envelope a bit.

I leaned back against the radiator, kind of shocked, thinking of my experiment. Was I psychic or something? Had I picked up on some paranormal frequency and started working for the prize without knowing it existed? I noted down the web address to download an entry form and left the building. Suddenly my mind was buzzing. I cycled to the bookshop. Twice in two days!

I scanned the psychology shelves for the book but it wasn’t there. It had obviously been re-shelved in the proper place. But where would that be? The girl behind the counter had to look it up and thankfully I remembered the title: Mystical Writing of the Middle Ages.

‘It’s in the medieval literature section,’ she said, giving me an odd look as if to say, ‘what’s a guy like you doing with medieval literature?’

I found it easily and took it to the counter, quite looking forward to getting another surprised look. She was all right really.

Back at the house, I settled down to read the introduction. Pretty soon it became clear that I’d been wrong about Julian of Norwich. He was a woman! Apparently she’d lived in a room attached to St Julian’s Church, and nobody knew her real name. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. People like Julian would agree to be sealed into these tiny rooms and never come out, dedicating themselves to prayer and nothing else. It seemed that she had nearly died — it was the time of the Black Death after all — and had had a sort of near-death experience and it was after that she shut herself away to contemplate what had happened to her. I turned to the chapter on Julian with renewed interest and started reading.

My phone went — a call this time — and I picked it up, my eyes still on the book. I looked at the screen. Oh God. It was Mum. I almost turned it off but then felt bad. She’d been emailing me like crazy.

‘Hi Mum,’ I said, trying to sound like it was a surprise to hear from her, and a nice surprise.

‘Jack — I’m sorry to ring, I know you don’t like it. But I sent you three emails and I didn’t hear from you. Are you OK?’

‘Yeah — I’m fine. You OK?’ I spoke lightly but my eyes were screwed up in a grimace. Of course she wasn’t OK. When had she ever been OK? Not since Dad went and not before that, come to think of it.

Thinking of Dad made me tight inside with anger. Why the fuck did he think he could bugger off and leave me to look after her?

‘It’s probably nothing, love,’ she was saying, ‘but my medication doesn’t seem to be working like it used to. I don’t know whether to ring the doctor. What do you think?’

I took a deep breath, everything in me wanting to get away. I heard the front door slam. I could say someone had come to see me.

‘And Sharon’s been round. She wants me to look after the dog when she goes away and I don’t know what to say. You know how allergic I am — but I can’t say no, can I?’

I said nothing. It was better to let it all wash over me. But maybe that was a bad move.

‘Jack? Are you there?’ Her tone changed, becoming more pathetic. Pathetic, but also barbed. ‘I expect you’re in the middle of something. Don’t worry. I don’t ever want you to worry about me. You need to live your own life — you’ve got nicer things to think about than me and my problems.’

OK — so why not call her bluff, then? ‘Yeah — I’m in the middle of some work, Mum. I’ll be in touch.’

I ended the call and threw the phone down on the bed. I felt like screaming. Odd, really, but it wasn’t Mum I was mad at — you can’t be mad at someone so weak and needy. Too busy feeling guilty for not giving her what she wants. No — it was Dad. How could he just swan off with his new bit of stuff and leave us?

I needed to get out of the house. Throwing some stuff in my rucksack, I picked up the mystics book. Further down the page, these words appeared: ‘We see deeds done that are so evil, and injuries inflicted that are so great, that it seems to us quite impossible that any good can come of them.’

Yeah, I thought. You’re not wrong. So what did Julian hear God saying about that?

‘You will see for yourself that every sort of thing will be all right.’

Oh yeah? Sounded like bullshit to me: ‘there, there, it’ll all come right.’ But then I read on: ‘He would have us more at ease in our minds and more at peace in our love, and not be concerned with those storms and stresses that stop us from truly enjoying him.’

That was more interesting. It wasn’t saying the storms and stresses would go away, just that maybe we could be happy despite them. I remembered that the experiment was about changing what went on inside your mind, not what happened outside.

I needed to give this some more thought.

Thank you for reading. You can find Chapter 5 here

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