Gertrude: The Sequel to Eminently Respectable Capers

By Tony Brennan

Well, the old cardinal, Charles Cardinal York, is off again on a series of helter-skelter escapades which nearly drive his one-time secretary, Bishop Sammy Spotels, crazy.

The bishop, with the new responsibilities he has with his promotion, has no time to spare, but Charles shows no signs of slowing down and involves the long-suffering bishop in a series of roller-coaster adventures, this time involving a whole convent of Sisters.

Charles, with his unusual pet, is a difficult man to topple but, this time, with Mother Angelica, who has a black belt in Karate, he might – just might – have met his match.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925952124

Tony Brennan

Tony Brennan, a clergyman and a tertiary lecturer, in both English literature and abnormal psychology, says of his writing, 'I have a penchant for zany and weird ideas which end up as stories. I never know what the end is going to be, so am constantly surprised, and a little worried - perhaps therapy might help?'

Book preview

ACCOMPLISHMENT!

THE LEAP OF FAITH

Well, when do we leave Darumbuljka, then? the elderly cardinal asked brusquely. Bishop Sammy Spotels looked up from his writing; he smiled at the ‘we’.

"Well, I leave in a fortnight; I’m not sure about you, though."

Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll be leaving when you do, so make sure you have all the arrangements made for the two of us. And, listen to me, sonny, don’t think I’m falling for that outrageous camel ride through the desert trick that you forced me into when I first came out here. We’ll fly, and that’s that!

Sammy went to speak; Charles interrupted him swiftly. And, talking about flying, I hope this doesn’t mean that our parachute jump will be cancelled. We can easily fit that in.

The cardinal, aware that the younger man was beginning to marshal his protests, spoke quickly. We are definitely still going to do the jump; there’ll be no more discussion about that. And, remember that means you with me on your back, as we practised!

The old cardinal dropped his hectoring tone, putting his hand on the bishop’s shoulder. Sammy, humour an old man, will you? I’ve always wanted to make a parachute jump and now I have the opportunity…you will go ahead with it, won’t you?

The bishop of Darumbuljka, His Excellency Samuel Spotels sighed.

Eminence, Eminence, Eminence, you’ll be the death of me; one way or another, he said wearily. "Listen, do you really think we’ve practised enough? And, will you absolutely promise me not to touch anything you shouldn’t touch on the harness? Or change any rule whatsoever? …And, one more thing you have to promise me: you do not complain when it all goes wrong—as it inevitably will with you on board."

Charles, Cardinal York, was incensed.

What a dreadful thing to say! Of course, I won’t touch any silly thing and I also promise not to complain. He lowered his voice, crossed his fingers behind his back, closed his eyes, and whispered, "…much!"

OK! Let’s make it tomorrow; we’ll get the damn thing over and done with. I’ve got enough on my plate getting ready to leave my Diocese, without doing stupid parachute jumps with you.

The bishop stood up. Now, Eminence, just buzz off, will you? I’ve a ton of things to do. I’ll see you at dinner tonight. All right? Sammy got up from his desk and prepared to leave the room.

All right, agreed Charles, except for one thing. As we are going back home to somewhere out in the wilderness—the ‘wild west’, you called it—do you know anything about it at all? Should I start learning how to ride a horse or how to start a camp fire by rubbing two sticks together…? He looked around the room and found he was speaking to an empty room. The bishop had fled.

Charles, Cardinal York was disappointed. Sammy had changed a lot since he had come to this Diocese in the middle of the desert. The young bishop was growing too serious altogether. That would have to change, the cardinal decided. He was only a young man—well, compared to him, Sammy was a young man—he needed to laugh more. Charles would have to work on that, he decided. If he didn’t, Sammy would turn out to be one of those grey-headed, boring old men he’d met at Conferences.

The cardinal pondered this situation for a little while then, to divert himself from the problem, went to visit his pet.

Rafik, the stableman, Charles’ close friend, and conspirator, had kept their secret from Bishop Spotels, as he had promised. This had kept Sammy from erupting…but now, it was a problem.

His Eminence, Charles, Cardinal York, retired Cardinal Prelate—presently presiding in the beautiful city of Darumbuljka, amid the never-ending sandy deserts of Southern Jordan—had to find a way to get his secret pet back home, now that the bishop had been recalled…for some reason, which even Sammy didn’t seem to know.

Charles met Rafik near the stables. As soon as the Arab saw his old friend, he hurried forward, his finger to his lips. Charles tiptoed to a small cage which held a very young camel named Gertrude. The cardinal whispered:

She’s beautiful, Rafik, absolutely beautiful. The grey-headed stableman smiled and agreed enthusiastically.

"Does he still not know about it?" he whispered back.

Not a thing, thanks to you Rafik. Also, my sincere thanks for solving the problem of the feeding. I thought we were beaten for supplies of camel milk when the mother died. You saved the day with your powdered milk. It was the answer. She loved it. That made it all seem possible. Now, tell me again the travel arrangements for Gertrude.

Rafik looked quickly around then muttered softly. I’ve arranged for her to be sedated for two whole days. I hope it doesn’t hurt her; she’s a lively little thing. Then, when you get to that uncivilized place you’re going to, you must rescue her from the luggage—she will be marked ‘Personal Pet’. Take her home to your tent; let her wake up slowly. She’ll be very hungry, so have the milk ready but don’t give her too much at first. Let her get some down and repeat the feeding every two or three hours. She knows you well by now, so she won’t be frightened when she sees you again. She could sleep on your couch in your tent until she gets too big. OK?

"In my tent, Rafik?"

"You do have a tent, Emnense? You no sleep out on ground?" Rafik was horrified; it sounded like all his fears about Westerners had been confirmed.

"Rafik, it’s ‘Em-in-en-ce’, but never mind that. Yes, I have a big…er…tent. But you’re a genius! And, it’s all fixed up to send her separately from the bishop’s luggage?"

Definitely, she will go under the name of Gertrude York. Is that right? That’s the name of your tribe, isn’t it…York? The cardinal smiled.

"It certainly is. And from this moment, Rafik, I make you a member of my tribe. I have a special sash that I’ll give you, which means: ‘Honourable Service to Yorkers’. You will be a Yorker from today." Rafik shouted out in delight.

"So I’ll be a very new Yorker, will I? I like that. Thank you, Sir York Em-twist-emce."

For a moment, the cardinal considered correcting Rafik but decided it wasn’t worth it, so he thanked the good man again, stroked the soft and beautiful coat of his young pet and went to brush up on his parachuting: the rules for, and the rules against.

This’ll be a piece of cake, he smiled in anticipation. But, he muttered stubbornly, I’m still going to wear it, no matter what he says.

Sometimes Sammy was such a fuss-pot!

* * *

It’s freezing up here, the cardinal shouted, as he stood in the open doorway of the plane.

What in the world did you expect? came the irritated voice in his ear piece. We’re nearly 25,000 feet up in the air! There followed a snort of rage from Sammy. "I told you not to wear your cassock! It’s dangerous, as well as being too thin to cope with this cold. Well, it’s too late now, you’ll just have to put up with it. Snuggle closer to me; hold on like grim death.

Look out! The light’s on; we’re about to go!

The cardinal was, in truth, actually freezing, so he did attempt to do as Sammy had ordered. He tried to snuggle down even closer to Sammy’s back, holding on tightly, when he happened upon some lever or other that was sticking into his chest, so he roughly pulled it away from his body. The results were unexpected and vividly spectacular!

Whatttttttiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu? Sammy’s voice was lost as suddenly they both shot forty feet up into the air. The cardinal’s cassock filled, with an enormous upthrust of air, into a gigantic mushroom. He was almost torn loose of Sammy, who was now dangling from one of the cardinal’s feet, while Charles, himself, went flying up even higher.

Charles looked down in terror at the top of the plane far below them. "Aren’t we supposed to be under the plane, not over it?’ he screamed into the mouth-piece of his two-way communication system. In answer, there was a confused outburst of swearing. The old man managed to untangle some of the words: …you…damn…idiot! Why…did…you pull…that lever? …how we are going to get down now…only God…knows! ….You! …Oh, why, did I ever let you talk me into this? …Whoops! …here we go again…DEAR GOD!

There was another sudden huge draft of air from the plane as it circled around under them to check on their progress.

The experts in the plane saw the predicament the old man was in. One of the instructors leapt from the plane and was skilfully using his harness straps, with both his arms and legs, to manoeuvre himself near to the cardinal. The man knew that Sammy would work out what to do—he had an emergency parachute—but the old man….?

The cardinal looked with relief at the ‘rescuer’ as he came closer. With a gigantic wrench of the harness, Charles crashed straight into the expert, expelling the breath from the man’s body and wrapping his arms around the instructor’s legs, thereby accidentally letting go of his last hold on Sammy.

The old man shrieked again when he saw Sammy heading towards earth at a terrifying speed. Nothing could save the bishop now!

Dear God in Heaven! He’d killed Sammy!

He turned his gaze away and buried his head in the legs of the expert who was trying desperately to untangle the two bodies. They had to get away from the pull of the plane, but the cardinal’s vice-like grip on the man’s legs were hampering every effort he made. He finally managed to get one arm around the old man, dragging the elderly body up – away from his own legs. The cardinal was now babbling incoherently.

Harnessed to the one parachute, the two of them began hurtling towards earth at an alarming speed. Charles prayed in earnest: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace……pray for me, a sinner, now at the imminent moment of my death—which I think, could be any second now…I’m sorry…Yes, I’m sorry…even for…" Charles only got as far as that when he fainted from fear and lack of oxygen.

The rescuer kept his arms around the dead weight of the man while he tried his best, with one hand, to guide the parachute to a place where they might land without killing themselves.

Charles only regained consciousness when they hit the water of an oasis making a tremendous splash that turned the oasis into a fountain thirty feet into the air. They went down to a great depth and rose spluttering and spitting out the foul, filthy, slimy water.

As soon as they broke the surface and struggled to the shallows of the pool, the expert took hold of Charles, dragged him to shore and shook him until his teeth chattered. When he’d finished, he threw the cardinal onto the muddy banks of the pool with disgust and left him there. He then stalked off into the sands of the desert, talking wildly on his cell phone. Even though Charles knew practically no Arabic, he had a shrewd idea at what was being said.

With a cautious, swift glance, to see if the irate man had gone or not, Charles lifted his head. He saw his one-time rescuer marching off, and he sat up. Thank Goodness that unruly chap has gone—what a way to treat a guest! He’d demand that Sammy teach him a few manners in the boxing ring.

It was then he remembered what had happened to Sammy!

Oh, my God, he cried, I’ve killed him! He sat down again on the muddy bank and, filled with remorse, genuine this time, began to pray for forgiveness. Sammy was not only a good and worthy bishop, but he also was the best friend he had ever had. He had come to regard him as his own family—almost like his own son. And he had killed him!

He began to weep.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was now somewhere in a remote oasis, in a vast desert…and alone. He was totally and terrifyingly alone. There was absolute silence. No one even knew where he was! He would now die here in the mud, and he didn’t care! He deserved it. He was a pig-headed, obstinate, senile old fool. Everything they said about him was correct.

Yes, now, with no one to hear him, he could admit the fact that he was nearly always wrong!

He began to prepare for death.

He lay down on the filthy bank in the mud. Lord, he prayed, let me die now. I’ve done enough mischief…But Lord, please don’t make it a messy death, please…I’m squeamish about blood. Perhaps…if I had a little sedation first? …Perhaps, a small whiskey? …Lord…? Are you listening?

Charles fell asleep, exhausted.

* * *

Two hours later, the cardinal was surprised to discover that there were helicopters in Heaven. He had died, hadn’t he?

Good Heavens! It’s a real helicopter, and it was here, not in Heaven. He jumped up and peeped through the palm branches to look at the plane. He saw—sitting beside the pilot—Sammy who looked the picture of health and was chatting animatedly to the pilot. They appeared to be sharing a joke!

The cardinal was not amused. Here he was filthy dirty, dying of thirst and starvation, lost in the desert, and Sammy finds that amusing? That boy needed to be taught a lesson!

When the rotor blades stopped turning, Charles emerged from the oasis. He stood waiting until Sammy and the pilot had climbed out of the helicopter and came towards him.

Well, if this is how you look after a frail, delicate and sensitive elderly man, then you are utterly mistaken, My Lord Bishop! he thundered. Sammy was relieved to find the old man back to normal. He’s a tough old bird, the young bishop marvelled.

I see your little escapade in the oasis didn’t do any damage. You’re still as impossible as ever, unfortunately. Sammy came closer and looked the old man over. Nothing broken, I’m glad to see, with such a long trip in front of us. He sniffed the air. Eminence, I know it’s rude to make personal remarks, but do you think it was wise to swim in that particular oasis; I believe most of the animals use it regularly. I suggest some deodorant…

There is absolutely no need to go on and on about the water, Bishop. I endured it all without making any song and dance about it. Thank Heavens Andronicus showed up with his lion. He spoke English quite well…

The lion or the young chap?

Don’t be stupid, Sammy. Andronicus. He even brought the thorn to show me…

How very thoughtful. Must be quite an age now: I mean the thorn, not the lion.

It’s the desert air; they stay green forever…All right! The cardinal gave up. Now, no more clowning, Bishop. What happens now?

‘Now? Well, I have a surprise for you when we get back. I’ll show it to you when I take you home. Come on, get a move on. The pilot doesn’t have all day to waste, waiting for you."

I’ll have the front seat where I can see everything…

"You’ll have the back seat where you can see and