Day's End

By George Coombs

The book concerns a series of events and how these impact on the lives of the people involved. The prominent people are Rosalynd Taylor, her daughter Samantha, widely known as “Sam” Father George Kolbe a Roamn Catholic Priest, Alan, the full time Prison Chaplain, George's Bishop Dermot Kelly, Father John, Dean of the group of Churches that includes George's Church, Lee, a Deacon who is ordained toward the conclusion, Michael Moore, a young man from George's Church who is hoping to become a Priest.

While in his local park George find the body of “Sam”-she has been murderes. He calls the police, attends for an interview the next day. Jonathan Smith, a very occasional Church attendee comes to the Church for 'confession with George during which he reveals that he killed Sam. George advizes surrender to the police which he does. He is charged and remanded in the local prison. George is involved with Sam's funeral and supporting Rosalynd.

George is a witness at the trial and subsequently visits Jonathan in prison; he becomes close friends with Alan the full time chaplain and begins going over to the prison every Thursday as the official Roman Catholic chaplain.

In her flat Rosalynd has a framed photographs of Sam on the wall, she is sitting before it and has a sense of Sam's nearness, Sam appears before her then and on other occasions.Toward the end of the book George also sees her.

Rosalynd becomes George's housekeeper. They become very close and eventually marry; in time Rosalynd also becomes involved in the prison work. They share many experiences together. Eventually, George and Rosalynd marry, he leaves the priesthood on very good terms with one and all. After their wedding they go to a reasonably local monastry where George is well known. Alan drives them over. Some of the monastic community meet them in the nearby village. Alan watches them walk away, sees a light following them, he knows to be Sam.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665588218

George Coombs

George Coombs is a retired lecturer, and currently a resident in Hove on the South Coast of England. He has been writing for much of his life, poetry, stories, and this is his second novel. He also draws and paint. This is his fourth book with AuthorHouse where the art work is also his. He hopes, as you follow Rosalynd and George through the changes that come in their lives you will enjoy it and, in some way, perhaps be helped by travelling with them.

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© 2021 George Coombs. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/14/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8820-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8819-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8821-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1   The Beginning

Chapter 2   Finding the Path

Chapter 3   Along His Path

Chapter 4   A Continuation

Chapter 5   Friends

Chapter 6   More Discoveries

Chapter 7   The Following Thursday

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PART ONE

THE BEGINNING

1. Day’s End

A scatter of Gulls alive in the vast overarching sky. Heralds of the sea, reminders to look upward in hope of safety and a way forward. The sea is a place to be still, think and feel the way things are. The shore a welcome place to be quiet, think and feel. A slightly cold nip in the air. Samantha, like many, loved the sea. Often, after school she would walk to the shore, pause, and gaze outward.

Samantha, widely known ‘Sam’ Taylor was glad of the Duffle Coat, Scarf and Gloves that were her mother’s gift at Christmas. It was good to be alone at times, stop and enjoy silence. Good to listen to one’s feelings. Sam was well laden with homework. Important exams soon, diligent and focused studies progressed well giving rise to cautious optimism regarding her future. Rosalynd Taylor, her mother, glanced at the kitchen clock and smiled. Time mattered so much to her Since the pain of an abusive relationship with Tim, her former partner, time was joyfully full of Sam, her only child, who she loved dearly. Their comfortable bungalow was purchased with money Rosalynd’s parents had left her. Rosalynd and Sam had supported each other through all the distressing times. Their pure love was healing and restorative.

Things looked well for Sam, she was on the right path. Light and shadow were wise companions giving insight about life, her dear mother and herself. Discovery of who she was came slowly and surely. Gradually she was discovering who she really was. The sea was a real place of refuge.

Five G.C.S.E.’s had been achieved when she reached thirteen. Sam was widely liked as, indeed, was her mother a former library assistant who now had a part time job in a local antique book shop. They were well thought of by Sam’s school and neighbourhood as well as Church where their Parish Priest, Father George Kolbe was minister, counsellor and friend to all. During the break up of Rosalynd’s relationship he had been a source of insight, comfort and strength for them both and was glad Roslaynd had been able to purchase her Bungalow with money bequeathed by her late parents.

Sam had a voracious appetite and would eat anything. Rosalynd knew that Vegetable La Sagne, Chips and Beans would be well received. Church attendance and trying to live their faith mattered to them. They both were regular communicants at Sunday Mass and frequently during the week. Father George was always delighted to see them and, as with other parishioners, he would telephone from time to time to ask if all was well and if they needed him in any way. Father George constantly cared for his people.

Mumsy Wumsy I’m home!

Rosalynd grinned, she loved Sam’s long standing cheeky pet name for her. The door robustly opened and closed. Sam unceremoniously dumped books, and coat in her bedroom then ran headlong into her mother’s waiting arms. They held each other. There was a joyful silence before Rosalynd spoke.

Had a good day my dear?

Yes thanks Mumsy, fine, and you?

Excellent thank you, I’ll pop some music on

Ok Mumsy, go for it

Choral music filled their flat. Like Rosalynd’s younger sister Jayne they both shared a love for classical music especially sacred music and opera. There was also a love of knowledge and learning. Rosalynd held a first class honours degree in Humanities and Sam’s G.C.S.E.’s would, in due course, hopefully lead ‘A’ levels and a University place.

What’s for tea my little Mumsy Wumsy, I’m starving

That’ll be the day when you’re not starving my girl

Who me?

Yes, you

Mumsy, I’m a growin’ girl y’know, gotta keep me strength up

They held each other close; an expression of all that is precious and could enlighten the darkest places encountered on one’s journey through life.

Love you so much.

Love you too darling, got much homework?

Yeah, sure have, absolute avalanche of it but you know me Mumsy, grub first

Oh you are a naughty girl!

Who me?

Yes, you

Sam scuttled off to her room giggling loudly. This was her very special space. Books scattered everywhere. Art posters, both modern and classical adorned the walls; she had her own desk, C.D. Player and laptop computer. Having unpacked Sam was organised for what she had to do. It was mainly Sociology, a subject with what seemed like voluminous required reading and, perhaps more importantly, a subject that made you think. For Sam, that was a good thing. In her way she was deeply concerned about people, society, the world in which she lived and the direction in which life seemed to be moving. quietly and thoughtfully, she planned a required essay.

Come and get it!

Ok

Sam charged into the kitchen. The bungalow resonated with her life and love. As always, they said grace then enjoyed music that gently filled the place where they shared their lives. Rosalynd was, herself, a soprano and sang in the church choir. The Schubert setting of ‘Ave Maria’ touched them both, they loved it.

Father George

Standing on the Church steps he glanced upward. The sky was calm and pleasant. Father George Kolbe was involved another day of ministry to his congregation Two confessions had been heard. The 10.00am Mass had been celebrated and a final blessing given, the last congregants made their way home. George noted that Rosalynd and Samantha were absent. At Church they were often among the last to leave. Prayer and seeking were vital to them. They shared a devotion to The Virgin Mary. Father George appreciated their loyalty. Church attendance was declining locally and nationally.

George and ministers of other denominations together with many lay people, knew this. However, they carried on. There was a national shortage of ministers from all denominations. In George’s Deanery the clergy all helped each other. A comforting silence within the church when he was there alone. George loved being with people, he also often wanted solitude and safety on his own, space to pray, read write and think; he was known as a scholarly man with a concern for humanity and the direction humanity seemed to be taking. Was the Church really needed or relevant, did it meet people where they truly were? Furthermore, was religion, any form of religion, really important? Did any religion have a monopoly on the truth? These questions had frequently occupied his mind. He longed for authentic Christian unity and, for that matter, for the world religions to work and share wisdom in order to create a safe and beautiful world for people to live, grow and eventually die in.

A quiet corner where, after genuflecting before the tabernacle, he sat and engaged with the mid-day Office. This was a devotion that, he was obliged, as a Priest, to carry out everyday, in no way did he mind or object to this, it was as if The Divine Office and, indeed, the Church were a vital part of the person he was, living and serving, in the seaside community of Littleton. Yet, he was also a person seeking growth in understanding for himself and indeed, for the Church and all mankind. The Church community consisted of mainly elderly people many of whom who had retired to the town. Also, like many churches, a place where people labouring under many daily life problems could find peace and hope. Following the office and five decades of The Rosary he felt the need of a walk.

In The Park

Putting on the old, grey coat he was fond of George made his way to the park. A robust crowd of seagulls punctuated the air with loud, insistent cries. Here, there, they floated, swooped, soared and called to all who might listen. It was a continual knocking on a door within creation that, he sensed would open one day. For George, one of the many blessings of his life in Littleton was this park. A place where to walk, sit, think and quietly link with nature in all its colour, diversity and beauty. Somewhere to find one’s space, to feel at peace in existence and with oneself. George left his Presbytery in deep thought. Occasional Gulls continually called their cry was loud and beckoning as he slowly trod his way people he knew said Good afternoon Father.

Good afternoon, bless you

How are you Father?

Fine thank you, and you?

Very well.

Excellent!

People were always pleased to see him and he them. The air was like an anointing hand touching him. Sometimes he had felt awkward at being addressed as ‘Father.’ The Diocesan Bishop, The Right Reverend Dr Dermott Kelly, a wise and caring man had helpfully suggested in his rich Belfast accent Always remember George, ‘Father’ is an instruction from all God’s holy people. George, in common with other priests, loved his Bishop who was a profoundly learned man and a very real father figure to his priests, a good, holy listener, someone you could approach with anything knowing he would always help and guide however uncertain the future might seem. The Bishop was also very forward looking in his thinking, he greatly encouraged efforts toward Christian unity and for the Church to always be there for anyone at all in their time of need.

Sometimes made surprise visits and attended Mass as one of the congregation insisting on just being there with his people, serving them and caring for them. The Bishop was no remote figure at all, he was always wanting to be with people sharing in their lives while never being intrusive in any way.

The park greeted him with a beautiful gentleness. The grass smelt fresh. Crocuses for spring had been planted. A solitary man was walking. The man waved, George, recognised him as an occasional church attender, smiled and returned the wave. It was good to be a priest of the people; someone one could talk to. He welcomed this. George approached a cluster of bushes and paused. A cold shock pierced him, he felt motionless and numb. The body of a young girl had been abandoned. George gasped "Oh No! he knew her. It was Samantha Taylor

Police

George called the Police from his mobile phone. Kneeling on the grass he made the sign of the cross over the body then took out his Roseary and began praying. Police were soon with him.

Father George?

Yes, I am

Detective Inspector Elvin, Detective Sergeant Alan

George established with them that the dead girl was Samantha Taylor widely known as Sam, daughter of Mrs. Rosalynd Taylor whose partner deserted her some years ago. They attend George’s Church of St. Thomas The Apostle and were well liked by all who knew them. The following day, after Morning Mass, George attended the nearby Police Station to give a statement. For this he joined the officers from yesterday in Interview Room 1.

How long have you been the Priest at St. Thomas Father? asked the Inspector.

Four years

Are you the only Priest there?

I am now sighed George, When I first came there was another Priest, now deceased, with the shortage of Priests I am now on my own. I have good parishioners who help yet, there is so much that only a Priest can do like consecrating the host at mass, hearing confessions etc.

Where were you before St Thomas’s? asked the Sergeant. George replied that he had been at the Church of St. Jude in Wolverton which is in the same Diocese.

Why did you move?

Well Sergeant, St. Thomas’s got to a point of only having one Priest. I joined the Bishop and other Priests at his funeral and the Bishop asked me if I would be willing to move, I agreed.

Thank you!, said the Inspector smiling. It’s always good to know a little about people we interview, I’m not a Church goer myself y’know, gosh! haven’t been for absolute donkey’s years.

Nor me said Sergeant Alan.

Things happen with people. Sometimes life change things. All things are in God’s time and, you both and any of your family and friends would be welcome to attend a service at any time and I would help you in any way I can.

That’s very kind of you Father, said Inspector Elvin. The two policemen looked at each other. George felt uneasy.

So, what were you doing in the park?

Walking

Just walking?

A nervous silence.

Yes, I’d had a busy day with my duties at Church and felt like a walk, I needed a little space, some air and a chance to think about things. George was asked if he had noticed anything which as unusual in the park, after a few moments thought he answered

No, I don’t think so

What other people did you notice? asked the Inspector.

Just a young man walking slowly and thoughtfully, I recognised him as an occasional church attender.

Nobody around when we came Inspector Elvin remarked

Maybe he’d gone home, George suggested.

After about half an hour of questions and comments George left. Meeting the two police officers was a tense experience. They seemed suspicious of anything and everything including, he thought, of him. Before long he was back in the Presbytery. Slowly, thoughtfully, he entered the church with his volume of The Divine Office, genuflected then began his devotions. Following the office, he prayed the Rosary saying each of the ‘Our Fathers’, ‘Hail Mary’s’ and ‘Glory Be’s’ slowly and thoughtfully. Then a period of silent contemplation. The perpetual light above the tabernacle was gently reassuring.

A Man Comes

A knock on the Presbytery door. George glanced at his watch. Nobody was expected, he opened the door to the man he had noticed earlier in the park.

Good evening Father the voice was quiet and anxious

Good evening friend

May I please have a confession?

Of course, do come in

The man entered and went to one of the Church confessionals. George vested appropriately and joined him. There was a partition with a small aperture through which speaker and listener could interact, the lighting was calm and subdued.

Bless you dear friend, may Almighty God bless you and help you to make a good confession and bring you peace George made the sign of the cross.

Well, it’s been about five years since my last confession Father, mass attendance has been more off than on.

Well done for coming,

Thank you...Well Father... My name is Jonathan…I live alone, all by myself...I’ve never been married

The words came quietly and hesitatingly. George had heard this pattern of speech many times, he knew it was best to let the man talk. People often gave background first. The real gift of this sacrament was a private and safe space.

I have wanted a friend for a long time now, a real friend who would accept me just as I am.

Well, knowing and living your faith will help, George quietly suggested.

Further tense silences permeated their interactions. The man mentioned, drinking too much, stealing then.

There was this girl in the park earlier a bit before I saw you...I was walking and... I saw her and tried to talk to her

Unwise perhaps?

I realise that now I tried to talk to her...to hold her hand...she screamed and called me horrid names.

This is not good, George suggested You should not, really, have approached he at all The man began crying

Couldn’t stand it!... the names! Her voice! I killed her...my hand just went round her throat!

Just went round...?

Without my knowing it, kind of a panic reaction I suppose.

I do know about this already, George told him I found her and called the police

What did you tell them

They asked me if I had noticed anything untoward I mentioned having seen a man who I now know to have been you.

Will you tell them about what I have said to you?

This was a difficult one for George. What he was being told was under what the church called the confessional seal and was privileged. Police and relevant others, he knew, do respect this though he may have to take advice from the Bishop at some point.

Listen carefully to what I want to say now...

George explained the situation carefully and said that, as part of an act of penance the man should approach the police, make a full confession and ask for the duty solicitor.

Will you be able to give me absolution now?

Yes and I can pray for you. I want you to attend Church here regularly, when you have been to the police come here again, we can talk further your absolution will be meaningful I would always want to help a sincere penitent in any way I can. George uttered a prayer for the man, to give him courage to do what he must do then. George heard him leave. That evening George spent several hours in prayer.

That Night

The night was long for George and dominated by the situation he had come into. The man, Jonathan, told him he was lonely; at times George had, known that experience, a sense of existence being a kind of deep solitude. Eventually, he drifted into sleep. Tuesday morning came slowly; light through a gap in curtains in his room touched his eyes as they tremulously opened. Bird songs gentle on the stillness. He got up dressed and went to the kitchen for his breakfast. The Church held a welcoming peace as he entered genuflected and sat before the altar for his morning devotions. He felt well though a little tired. Following Morning Prayer, a period of silence was interrupted by the telephone. It was Inspector Alvin.

Good morning, is that you Father George?

Yes

Detective Inspector Alvin here

Oh, Good morning Inspector

Just to let you know we have arrested one of your parishioners in connection with the girl in the park. We have him in custody.

Oh, who? asked George with concern

Well, it’s a Mr Jonathan Smith he’s coughed up everything regarding the girl in the park, a full confession.

Really

We’re holding him on remand in HMP Littleton, until his trial in about three weeks’ time he has told us he’s known to you

Yes, he hasn’t attended for some time until….

Until….

Yesterday…he said that he had killed the girl. I can tell you that but it was said under the seal of confession.

Yes, I do understand Father. We’d like to talk further with you if we may.

Pause

Father?

Pause

Yes, sorry, I was thinking. I could pop in to see you again but at around 11am, there’s something that I just have to do first.

Ok, we’ll see you later then when you’re ready, thank you for your time.

George left the Church and walked quickly. There was indeed something that he had to do first. Priests also, of course, go to confession to other priests. George attended regularly and was due today, he felt able to counsel others to do likewise from a context of personal experience often stressing that one should never be afraid to attend confession. The Church attended was that of St. Michael and All Angels. The Priest Father John Brown, was Dean of the group of Churches of which George’s was part. They had known each other seminary days. Part of his role as Dean was representing the Bishop at important Deanery occasions but no such obligation was to hand this particular day.

They regularly heard each other’s confession and often discussed things together. John was up early and, like many modern Priests, he spent the early part of his day dealing with correspondence from the Internet and through his letter box. There was the usual daily newsletter from the Bishop among his Emails. In common with George and others the Bishop had reason to appreciate the knowledge and computer skills of George’s future priestly candidate Michael Moore. Looking at the calendar on his laptop he was remanded that this was the day George usually came for confession and any discussion they might have. George rang the bell. John came to the door and greeted his friend with a warm smile.

Hello mate, come on in, coffee’s ready.

Great, said George.

They sat with coffee and digestive biscuits, the kind John knew George liked. It was a small room that John generally used for counselling and instruction as well as face to face confessions. The walls contained iconic pictures of The Virgin Mary and the Saints. George had a similar room in his Presbytery. They always had face to face confession, they knew each other well and there was a real bond of trust between them. As, what is now known as the Sacrament of Reconciliation progressed George felt well able to tell his priestly friend all he wished him to know.

A TRUSTED FRIEND

After John had given absolution they spoke about Johnathan and the situation that George had become part of.

He sounds like he’s rather disturbed, John said.

I think so, yes, said George.

Have you any idea what the outcome is likely to be? John asked. George breathed in and out deeply and thoughtfully.

I would think a substantial time in prison, he replied.

Hopefully with some sort of therapy but am not all that sure about that. He has made an early admission of guilt which will count in his favour. I believe that there’s the punishment part of the sentence, the idea that if I do this that will happen

I know what you mean John told him And one is supposed to learn from that?

Supposed to yes, if one can, pain physical and mental exacerbated by bad living conditions hardly conduces to any kind of personal improvement or authentic learning experience, George spoke in quiet and measured tones adding "A key word, for