Jack and the medieval mystics Chapter 7

A spot of bother

The town was heaving and we did the round of our favourite places — me in the best of moods, even before the alcohol kicked in. It was getting near time to call it a night and I had bored them both with a blow by blow of my time with Alice. That was her name — Alice. It didn’t really go with the purple hair but I was starting to get used to it.

She was amazing! Very bright but not in a heady way. She was doing Art — textiles were her thing. But she was interested in psychology too — not in that superficial way some people are, who think they know what makes people tick. I even told her a bit about the mystics experiment and she didn’t freak. She listened and then at the end, she asked questions, really unexpected questions that made me see it in a different way. She agreed to see me again. I told Jem and Kipper all this — but without going into the mystics much.

Kipper was good at holding his drink. It just made him really mellow and a bit emotional, so he was holding forth on what good friends we three were and how he’d never had mates like us and never would again. We were an odd bunch really: a lawyer, a psychologist, and an engineer. Jem (his real name was Jemoiya) was from Kenya and he was doing mechanical engineering. You wouldn’t think we’d have much in common but we shared the same house in the second year and we got close then.

It was pissing it down when we left the last place and none of us fancied the walk home, so we headed for the station where you could catch a bus to any part of town, even the campus. Jem was living in halls again this year — a senior resident, they were called, where they got a subsidized rent in return for advising the first years. As an engineer, he was really good with people. I could see him being a counselor one day. Whereas I, the psychologist, used to run a mile if people started telling me their problems.

Jem and I had just peeled off to our different bus stops — Kipper had decided to go and pick up his motorbike after all — when I saw them. Or rather heard them, first off. A lot of raucous shouting from this mob outside the station. Somehow they didn’t sound like students and then I saw the shaved heads, the paramilitary crap. It was a bunch of far-right twats, probably changing trains on their way back from some march in London.

I kept my head down — just a quick glance up to see who was in the queue with me at my bus stop. There was a couple and a black guy. He looked quite big and as if he could handle himself if anything kicked off. But then I heard a shout, closer now. It was one of the hard men.

‘Oi, you!’

There was no mistaking the challenge and I began to feel sick. I looked up and saw that he was walking towards Jem’s bus stop and a couple more were following him. Jem was the only person at the stop — well, except for two girls in sleeveless tops and high heels, who backed away out of the streetlight.

I couldn’t move. The alcohol was slowing down my brain but then it came into its own, dulling the fear. Jem was just standing there, looking very alone and very black as the far-righters came on. I glanced at the big guy at my stop and he gave a little nod. As he stepped forward with me, I saw that he was 6' 3 at least and it was obvious that he worked out. Odd how the brain works in these moments but I was suddenly back in the gym, on the cross trainer, the mantra from that morning going through my mind: ‘loved and known, from all-time,’ ‘loved and known,’ ‘loved and known.’

The two of us crossed to Jem’s stop and faced up to the twats. Now we were closer I could see they were not young — maybe even in their forties.

‘Aye, aye,’ the first one said to his mates. ‘This monkey a friend of yours, is he? I think you should mind your own business.’

But I saw him sizing up my new friend from the bus stop and he didn’t go any closer to Jem. Meanwhile, I heard someone at another bus stop nearby making a call. The police? We might just be OK as long as more of the racists didn’t decide to get involved.

Then came a familiar sound. I would know that engine anywhere. Kipper’s Kawasaki was roaring across the tarmac of the bus station. He must have caught wind of what was happening somehow. The far-righters looked up in surprise as Kipper screeched to a halt beside them in his leather jacket. Even I have to admit he looked impressive.

‘Jem, my friend,’ he said, looking through the hard guys as if they were invisible. ‘Do you fancy a lift home?’

He revved the engine as Jem climbed up behind him and then roared off.

The mob over by the station started heading back through the station doors — maybe their connection was due. Our ‘friends’ must have seen the movement — they were looking back, uncertain. The black guy beside me stepped forward and, sensing the balance had changed, the leader of the far-righters put up his hand.

‘OK. Back off, son. You won’t be so lucky another time,’ he said, as they turned and headed for the station, trying to look threatening even in defeat.

I nodded to the tall guy beside me but it was obvious he had been on a mission of his own and didn’t need my thanks.

When I got home I texted Jem — he was OK. It sounded like he and Kipper were having a celebratory drink. I suddenly realized I was ravenous and made myself some toast in the kitchen, then went to bed. It took me a while to get to sleep. I kept going over what had happened. What if the black guy hadn’t been there, or if Kipper hadn’t shown up? Odd that — how I found myself thinking about being loved right in the middle of everything. Maybe it was talking to Alice or maybe it was really having some effect on me, reading this God stuff. I dug out the book again and found the page I’d first read, in the bookshop. Angela of Foligno: ‘How, being lodged within the soul, God worketh alike upon the understanding, the affections and the will.’

But how can something that’s not true be helpful? It’s a lie. Deceiving yourself — putting your head in the sand about the true shittiness and randomness of things. But then, does it matter whether it’s true or not if it makes things better?

I was feeling sleepy at last and closed my eyes. It felt like there was some way still to run with this thing.

Thank you for reading. Links to all the chapters can be found here: https://readmedium.com/jack-and-the-medieval-mystics-introduction-53069e57e23

More information about the medieval mystics can be found here: https://christianhistoryinstitute.org/magazine/article/women-in-medieval-church-mystics