The Peacock 955

 As we are putting on our shoes to go out, Carl asks Francois, "While at the abbey, did you also hear confessions from other priests?"

"Are you ready for your hair to stand on end for the rest of the day, lose your breakfast and lunch, have no appetite for dinner then wake up crying all night like a teething infant?"

"No, not exactly?"

"Then ask me again later in the week.  None of it is pretty, and now that I am free from the bastards I could even write a book about it and get away with it."

"Okay", says Carl  brandishing his car keys.  "Let's go!"

The Peacock 954

 Do you think they'll leave you alone?" say I.

"The Roman Catholic Hierarchy is composed of snivelling, odious little cowards that would sacrifice our Blessed Mother herself in order to keep hidden from public view their sick and perverted agendas.  His Grace the venerable Abbot will not dare bother me again.  Now that I've left the church they have no power over me."

"Now what are you going to do?" says Carl.

"I will say this much.  Ever since your sister rescued me from pope Douglas, I finally feel the presence of God in my life.  I can only move forward, and I really want it to be with you guys.

"Even after you've found a nice job?" say I.

"Will you still love me tomorrow", sings Carl.

"As far as getting a job is concerned, it's going to be wait and see.  But for me, that is the responsible thing to do.  But the outcome is not in my hands but in God's."

"True words, Brother Francois", says Carl, "Very true words."

"Should we get going?" say I.

"Yes", says Francois.  "It's almost two thirty.  We're meeting her at three?  Then we'd better get moving..."

The Peacock 953

 

"What is the plan for after our meeting with Carl's cousin?" says François, as Carl slips into the kitchen to wash our dirty dishes.

"I think a neighbourhood walk would be appropriate, especially to help you guys get oriented.  We could also include a bit of the forest if you like.

"Suits me fine." He is reading something on his laptop screen and his face becomes rather sombre and dark.

"News?" say I, and Carl just now is coming back.  He retakes his chair, and I can see already that each appears to be laying claim to their seat in the living room: Francois will always have the couch to sprawl on, and I of course am glad to be back again in Dad's recliner chair.

"From the monastery", he says grimly.

"What, are you excommunicated?" says Carl.

"No, not yet anyway.  The abbot wants me to come in to answer some questions."

"About..." says Carl.

"That miserable Hutu bastard who came to me for confession.  Apparently he has filed a complaint that I threatened him and they want to hear my side of the story.  After that they'll excommunicate me."

"What are you going to do?" say I.

"First, let me ask you a question, Carl, if I may please."

"Fire away."

"If worse were to come to worse, could I count on you to help fund me for legal counsel."

"Of course."

"Thank you, Brother Carl."  And now he begins to type.  We both watch silently.  When Francois is finished he reads to us: "My dear abbot.  1.  I have left the monastery.  2.  I have left the priesthood.  and 3. I have left the Catholic Church.  Any further contact from any of you people I will treat as criminal harassment and will have you prosecuted to the full extent of the law and beyond.  Do not ever under any kind of circumstances contact me again!

Francois Bernard

The Peacock 952

 "So", says Carl between mouthfuls of sandwich.  "Cynthia wants to meet us in the next hour or so, so we should get ready to go pretty soon."

"Cynthia?" says Francois.

"That cousin of mine several times removed.  She wants to talk with me about my family history."

"Could be interesting", Francois says, now looking up from his computer. "Where does she want to see us?"

"She mentioned a coffee shop in the Downtown Eastside, corner of Hastings and Cambie.  Coming?"

"Yeah, I guess I could join you.  But would I be welcome."

"You lived in my house for the past year or so.  It's affected all of us.  You are entitled to know these things, Francois."

"Glad to know I'm entitled", he says, laughing.  "you said she works with survival sex workers."

"Something like that."

"Do you plan on sharing with her your resume?"

I can tell Carl finds this comment neither funny nor pertinent, but decides to let it pass...

"No need to worry, Brother Carl, No one but you is going to volunteer any of your personal information."

"And for saying that, Father Francois, you are not far from the kingdom of heaven."

The Peacock 951

 Francois is sprawled on the living room couch with his laptop.  He has heard us come in and looks up with a rather perplexed expression on his face.

"Where'd you guys get to?" he asks, almost demands.

"Chris just took me on a hike in the forest.  Beautiful place", says Carl.  "and the little spoilsport refuses to take me to Wreck Beach."

"Where?"

"It's Vancouver's infamous clothing optional beach", say I, slipping off my running shoes.

"Nude beach", Carl corrects.

"And why  would you want to go there?" says Francois.

"Go figure, Sherlock.  Oh, that's right.  You're a priest."

"Was a priest", rebuts Francois.  We both take our seats in the armchairs

"How goes the job search", say I.

"Slow start.  Very slow.  Could be a few weeks before I land an interview."

"What are you looking for?" says Carl.

"Mental health worker.  Community."

"Starbucks might be hiring."

"Joke", says Francois. "Ha-ha."

"Shall we have lunch?" says I.

"I just had a peanut butter and jam sandwich", says Francois.  I left the stuff on the counter if you guys are hungry."

"Thanks", say I.  "I think I will.  "Carl?"

"Sure", he says, getting up.

"No, stay where you are.  I'll make them and we can sit out here with Francois."

"As you both ought".says he, and now I can tell he is a bit miffed that we went off without him.  Though he did want to stay here for his job search.  Sheesh!

The Peacock 950

 The trees of the ravine are resplendent with the fresh, fiery green of May. A young woman has just passed us with her black lab dog but otherwise we are here alone.  I know what is happening.  Carl and I are becoming bonded.  Something undissolvable is now binding us both to each other.  I knew this was going to happen, and I suspect he has been working overtime to help mastermind the process.  It doesn't matter.  I only wonder how Eric is going to fit here when he arrives, because he seems to think to have a prior claim on me.  I don't know. And now we are three with Francois, who seems in his way just a little bit detached, and small wonder.  This has nothing to do with his race.  He simply wants order, movement and method in his life.  And he is so full of good common sense.  We both seem to be looking to him as an anchor.

"Francois, you mean?" wonders Carl and I am shocked to realize I have said this out loud.  "This is such a beautiful place here.  We have to return."

"I can teach you the route."

"It's nicer if you're here with me."  This has to be unmistakable love talk.  I'm not ready for this.  Carl is not ready for this.  I suppose he wants to hug me, but I really don't want to be touched right now, not even by Carl.

"Is Wreck beach nearby?" he asks.

"Maybe.  But don't expect me to show you how to get there..."

The Peacock 949

 To call this too much information would be a bit of an understatement.  I am struggling right now to get my head around a father who has been so inadequate, so cruel, brutal and perverted as to utterly erase in his children any sense of filial love or affection for him.  I who never ever once had to do without everything that I needed in a father.  A man who raised me with care, diligence and affection, a man who never would have dreamed of doing or hinting at anything at all inappropriate to his child, a man on whose lap I could sit even when I was a child of twelve, whom I could hug and kiss and cuddle next to.  That anyone with a father should have to be deprived of love and affection from the very man who sired them!

"Are we going to tell Francois?" says Carl suddenly.

"Do you want him to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"He no longer hears confessions."

"Doesn't matter.  He's part of this now with us.  He is entitled to know  He has a right to know."

"Okay, but you are the one who is going to set it up with him."

"Please, Chris", says Carl, pleading, "Please be there for me."

"I will..."

948

 The RCMP never suspected us, and for some reason, even with tracking dogs, were unable to locate the body  and we were already back in Amsterdam before this thing hit the news.  They never found us out."

To say I am gobsmacked would be an understatement.  But I have to ask this question.  "Have you told your mother?"

"She is never going to find out."

"What did you do with the weapon, you said I think it was a shotgun.  Surely you must have buried it with him."

Now Carl is quiet, suddenly, and the only sound right now is the sonorous croaking of an overhead raven.  Cearly an omen.

"There was no shotgun", Carl says suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We didn't do it.  Melissa and me.  We didn't shoot our father.  But yes, Chris, I made up the part about the suicide.  Our father was shot to death, but not by himself, and not by his own kids.  I am truly sorry for lying to you about this  We think it might have been either that blonde guy that might have been Lindstrom, or maybe that other guy who visited him just the night before and got into an argument with him.  We didn't hear everything, but this guy, he spoke in an accent, maybe Italian or Spanish, I can't remember, but he did say one thing to our dad that still rings in my ears.  He said that if you don't shut up about it then you had better be prepared for the consequences.  And there will be consequences...

The Peacock 947

 "But the proximity of the old bastard was having a toxic effect on us.  Melissa was becoming really withdrawn and at times near catatonic.  And me, when I turned sixteen, my outlet, while home in Holland, became a life of renting out my young body in Amsterdam.  And snorting enough coke to kill a herd of feral stallions.  You know, Chris, when Mel and I first discovered the old bastard's still cooling corpse with half his head blown off, we did something that we, or I anyway, am   now very ashamed of.  You know what we did, when we saw his prone body now already gathering flies out by the southern magnolia?" and now both his voice and his tone are rising into a heightened pitch of emotion.  "Do you know what we did?"

I am now really afraid of where this might be going, and against my better judgment I reply, "Tell me."

He lets out a profound sigh, as though to cool his head, then he says, "We kicked him.  Both of us.  We wanted to know if he was really dead.  Then we kicked him again and again and again.  Then we knew he was really gone, he was really dead.  So, spontaneously we high-fived each other.  And we were both suddenly laughing.  And that was the first time I had ever heard my sister laugh.  .Because now he could no longer hurt her, or hurt me  And you know what else we did.  And this is something really terrible and now I am going to have to confess that I have been lying to you."

"Okay.  Tell me, please."

"we went back to the house, brought back with us a couple of shovels, and we buried him..."

The Peacock 946

 "So then your father must have had some kind of love for his children."

"I wouldn't call it love.  He considered us his property, and he simply wanted  to assert his property rights over us.  But he couldn't do it anywhere in or near the Netherlands because the authorities and Interpol were both after him, not only for his crimes against his kids but for some other nefarious financial dealings that never really saw the light of day with us.  He knew he was a rat backed into a cornier, so there really wasn't a lot more harm he could or would do us."

"I don't imagine that his conscience might have kicked in about his filial duties towards you guys."

"Conscience?  Christopher, have you ever considered a career as a standup comedian?  I think you would do very well."

"So, what did you guys do there?"

"We were free labour.  He put us to work every day clearing the bush, helping him put in the gardens, and cutting trails in the forest.  Standard work for a ten year old girl and her fifteen year old brother.  But we actually came to like it there.  The forest was wonderful for hiking and playing games in, plus we almost never saw the old bastard..."

The Peacock 945

 "And Ahmed was your stepfather whom your mother tracked all the way to Stella's where she found you sitting at her kitchen table."

"That's correct."

"Tell me something, please, Carl.  Why did your parents divorce?"

"Mom became aware during the last year of the marriage of some of the things our father was doing to me and Melissa.  She was horrified.  She wanted to rescue us.  She did.  We really owe her a lot."

"But, I don't understand something here.  Why then, after the divorce, would she allow you both, two vulnerable kids, to have to go and spend time with your father at the mansion every year, unprotected.  Out in the wilderness?"

"It was blackmail.  Dad said that if any of us were going to have any of his coin in our pockets then we would have to comply to his demands."

"And he never touched you again?"

"Mom had already notified the authorities in Holland about what Dad had done to us.  The deal was that if she heard of even one single inappropriate act or gesture directed by him towards either one of us, then she would launch an international manhunt against him, fortune or no fortune.  He abided faithfully to her terms...

The Peacock 944

 We have encountered, perhaps . two other solitary hikers in the half hour or so we have been here in this forest.  It is unusually solitary, unusually tranquil and already the sacredness of this forest is beginning to overwhelm me.

"You know", says Carl, "It was really Stella more than anyone or anything else, who helped me get out of that life."

"What did she do?"

"Well, after a few months of seeing the impact my coke addiction was having on me, she strong-armed me into treatment.  She had connections and got me into a day-tox centre, where I could attend five days a week for groups, therapy and workshops.  It worked marvelously, so that I not only lost the desire for cocaine, but also ran out of interest in selling my body.  Stella was both mother and father to me."

"What about your own mother?"

"Mom was too preoccupied sorting through the details and trauma of the divorce, and so she spent all her time with her Christian friends, and then of course she met Ahmed and suddenly she was never there...

The Peacock 943

 This is something I am simply unable to respond to.  I don't know what to say or do.  It would be so hugely inappropriate to ask him for details, but as we are walking here flanked by salmonberries and ferns, I have to say something.  Something lame, because no matter how kind, how timely, how beautifully crafted the reply, it is always going to come off as lame, inadequate, inappropriate.

"What...happened?" I stammer.

"My father.  When I was a kid.  He diddled Melissa as well."

"How old were you?"

"young.  Small.  Please, I really don't want to go there right now."

"I'm sorry.  I understand."

"You don't really.  That's okay.  There's nothing to understand.  It isn't your pain to carry."

"But, can I help in some way?"

"Ever since you came to the mansion on retreat one week ago, Chris, you have been helping me.  Way more than you could ask or imagine."

"I never would have known."

"That's okay.  You know now."

"Is this why you and Melissa are close?"

"In a word, yes.  Where does this trail go?"

The Peacock 942

 "How did you get into sex-work?"

"You mean prostitution  No politically correct euphemisms, please.  Remember Sarah's friend in Melbourne?"

"Oh, yes.  And of course, I did also hear plenty from Kenny.  He says he didn't think he could ever rise completely above the degradation, that it would stay with him for the rest of his life."

"Why do you think I have been so keen on us reading his diary?"

"Cathartic?"

"Yes.  Very."

But you come from a rich family.  I can't accept that you were just doing it for the money."

"There were lots of factors involved.  There was my coke addiction. Dad was very parsimonious about child support when mom took us away from him, despite his hundreds of millions, and only after farming us out to him at the mansion did he relent and decide to write us into his will, effectively leaving us everything.  But, Chris", Carl adds, rather halting and portentous sounding, "Do you know what all ho's really have in common?"

"Tell me."

"We were all sexully abused as children..."

The Peacock 941

 "They weren't as hardline as some conservative Christians, and I think Father Griffin had an influence there.  He did really a very deft job of striking a healthy balance between repentance and self-acceptance.  He counselled us not to forbid homosexuals, and even to open our minds a bit about same sex marriages, though we didn't really move very far beyond don't ask, dont tell."

"How did that impact you?"

"I wanted to completely retreat from my sexual identity.  I was resolved to be a good Christian boy, squeaky clean and wholesome as all get-out.  I even got me a girlfriend, Katrina, who became my fiancee.  We never slept together, and she quickly caught onto my game and dumped me like a bag of shit."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not.  She saved us both from living together what would have been a very sad and pathetic lie."

"Did you find yourself a boyfriend instead?"

"I never found anybody.  Three years of selling my teenage body along the canals of Amsterdam did more to put me off sex than all the horror stories about the clap combined."

"And so you became celibate?"

"Asexual.  You and I are a lot more alike than you realise, dear Christopher."

The Peacock 940

 "I really noticed something similar in Switzerland, not so much in our community, but the church we were attending.  It was a fairly progressive calvinist church, if you can imagine such a thing, but there always seemed to be a split between progressives and conservatives,  The progressives all had big mouths, proclaiming and parroting the importance of tolerance, diversity and accepting people from all races and sexualities and political beliefs or whatever, but they were also the most egregiously selfish hypocrites whenever it came to lifting so much as a finger in order to help people in need or distress.  It was our community and the many friends we had, that did all the heavy lifting, and a lot of us, Mom included, were also very conservative in their theological thinking."

"I should also imagine", say I, "That they probably looked down on the rest of you."

"That's putting it mildly."

"What was the attitude in your mom's community towards gay people?"

The Peacock 939

 "How did he get to be a deacon?"

"Yes", says Carl, "Tell me.  How did he?"

"Anglican church, you know?"

"What is it with Anglicans!"

"Besides that they have brought religious hypocrisy to its unprecedented apogee, I don't know what else to say.  You tell me."

"How did your father cope around those clowns?"

"Often he didn't. Or not very well.  He even went through a period of silent binge drinking.  On my insistence he went and got professional help and joined an AA program.  That was just after Kenny died.  The pressure was too much for both of us.  Somehow it didn't really affect our relationship.  I think because we always seemed to know when to leave each other alone.  And it was a difficult time for the church.  There were open discussions about homosexuality and same sex marriage, which, I think only on a theological basis, Dad couldn't really accept.  And then in 2002 came that big split in the church when the bishop of the day declared as holy writ the so-called same sex blessings.  Dad went for six months with the rebel parishes, but then he returned and was reinstated at St John's, not entirely repentant, but silently and grudgingly accepting the inevitable.  Honestly, he was not homophobic, but very traditional, and very evangelical in some of his thinking.  But that was okay, because on the balance of everything, his love and kindness and compassion for others, for the less fortunate, the drug addicts, the mentally ill and the homeless, really put all that entire brood of vipers to shame...

The Peacock 938

 The forest isn't far from here, just one block.  I appreciate now more than ever how spoiled I have been growing up in this neighbourhood.  Francois has stayed behind at the house to inaugurate his job search. Carl and I step onto the forest trail leaving the houses behind.  Everything is vibrant with the fresh green of spring.  We appear, for a while anyway, to be the only humans present.  There is a racket of singing birds, and now a raven is calling from somewhere overhead.

"I didn't know there are ravens in the city", he says.

"Eagles too.  And Canada geese.  They're everywhere."

"You seem to know these trails rather well."

"I've been walking them since I was a kid."

"What is your take on our visitors this morning"

"I should ask the same of you, given your past with Deacon Jenkins."

"Oh, that too", says Carl, "That too.."

The Peacock 937

 They are not going to allow me to lift so much as a finger.  But it is rather pleasant watching them work while seated at the kitchen table, and I think I am almost resigned to the idea of my two friends, in a way, taking care of me  while we are together here.  But we are all needing care.  We are all three of us right now incredibly fragile, and this thin thread of new friendship is already indelibly binding us together.  But it could easily break, and so I am on my guard.

"What do you guys make of the Reverend", says Carl.

"Karen Wilson", I reply.  "It's hard to say".

"Enigmatic is a very mild word for her", says Francois.

"I can only imagine the conversation they must be having in the car right now", say I.

"Robert's black Mercedes.  I don't think I would want to be a fly on that windshield."  His phone is ringing and quickly he dries his hands to answer it.  "Hello?..Oh yes, hello...Fine thanks...Yes...I think we could, let me check with the others.  Just a minute please...That is my distant cousin Cynthia on the phone right now.  She wants to know if we would like to meet with her today.  What do you guys think...?

"At what time?" says Francois.

"At what time?" echos Carl on the phone.  "Two."

"Can she make it for three?" says Francois.

"Would three work?...Yep, she's good for three..."

The Peacock 936

 "So", says Francois with a wide shit eating grin, "Who was the stupid fucking asshole?"

"You have three good guesses.  The first two don't count."

"You must be glad to be out of that kind of life", say I."

"It still isn't out of me."

"I guess these things take a long time to heal."

"It never heals."

There is quite a racket coming from the basement as the cleaners tackle the mess left by our previous tenants.  I am feeling somewhat better, more settled, but also restless.  "I'm going to clean up the kitchen."

"No you're not", says Carl.  "Francois, shall we get to work now, and our good host can sit at the table and watch..."

The Peacock 935

 "I still don't understand", says Francois, clearly struggling with the facts.

"You have also been to his house."

"You mean?"

"That's right.  Robert Griffin now lives there.  Boy was it ever weird for me stepping inside that place again."

"How did this guy get to be deacon?"

Say I, "The Anglicans are very morally lax.  And, I would say confused.  My dad always had a huge issue around this, and this also brings to mind his bitter complaining about Deacon Jenkins.  He never furnished me with details but he sometimes loudly protested what he called the extremely sloppy and self-interested vetting process for approving and ordaining new clergy."

"Hence the man from Uganda", says Francois. "But Carl, it's been more than twenty years.  Can you be sure it was him"

"Oh yes.  First, he has a tiny red birthmark over his right cheekbone.  He otherwise looks just the same, just a bit grayer, a bit heavier and slightly wrinkled.  And he is still driving the same black Mercedes he picked up me and Melissa in.  With the same license plate.  I could read it where he was parked on the driveway."

"You actually memorized this guy's license plate number?" say I, now genuinely surprised.

"Part of my training from when I was a teenage ho.  This was how I kept track of a potential bad date.  And his was particularly easy to remember:SFA 424, which for me translates as Stupid Fucking Asshole, and the numbers of my birthday, April 24.

934

 "They were boyfriends.  Robert Griffin at the time was a priest here in Vancouver, and Chris could tell you a tale or two about him before he really found a place of repentance in our Christian community in Switzerland, but that's another story."

"So, they were both named Robert?" say I.

"Yep,  two gay men named Bob."

"Oral Roberts!" I shout, and we both burst out laughing.

"Can you explain please", says Francois, clearly not getting the joke.

"Oral Roberts was an American Pentecostal televangelist", say I, "Very controversial, and likely corrupt."

"Was he gay?"

"Probably not", says Carl, "But why let accuracy ruin a good joke?"

The Peacock 933

 "As you may remember, Chris, when I told you how Robert and I had a certain agreement so that he would house Melissa and I in his home in exchange for services rendered."

""Services", says Francois, incredulous, "What kind of services."

"Figure it out Sherlock.  Just months before, I was still a teenage rent boy along the canals of old Amsterdam.  So, on Robert's insistence, I returned to work, this time for him, in order to save our sorry teenage butts.  I was not, nor am I now, at all proud of what I did, but we were backed into a corner, and that was the only option that seemed to be open.  And you know what?  When one is leasing out one's body to a stranger, especially for five weeks, it is possible to get to know them very very well.  and since I had learned in the oldest profession how to gain and manipulate people's trust, you could say that I was really quite a pro."

I want to say, and you are still very good at what you do, but somehow it seems wise to hold my silence.

"I did not know any of this about you, Carl."

"Oh come on François, no need to be prissy.  You've been present already when I have mentioned my professional past."

"It must have somehow slipped my attention."

"Or your inner censor was being very vigilant.  Anyway, can you guess whose house our own Robert Griffin is presently living in?"

"Seriously? How did they know each other?"

The Peacock 932

 I am indignant and embarrassed on behalf of our guests, and I really have to control my tone of voice as I demand of Carl, "What was that all about!"

"Oh, but there is a story here, darling Christopher, and if you two gentlemen would be so kind as to sit with me right now in the living room, then let me explain to you a thing or two about one of our breakfast guests."

Francois and I are side by side on the couch and Carl directs on us from an armchair.  "Remember, Chris, when I told you about that..er..gentleman that picked up Melissa and I hitchhiking when my dad shot himself in the head twenty years ago or so."

"This is certainly news to me", says Francois looking very grave and perplexed

"Chris already knows the story.  Melissa and I had to get out because our father's body had vanished and we feared that we could be next, so we hitchhiked on the highway, and who should give us a ride but Deacon Drew Jenkins, whom we just had for breakfast, so to speak.

"And his name was Robert", say I.

"His first name is Andrew, so not exactly an alias..."

The Peacock 931

 The cleaners, three young men of Filipino provenance, have arrived and have donned hazmat suits and masks, and have already begun to work on the disgraceful mess downstairs.    We are back on the deck, and the visit continues its tone of strain and discomfort.  not even a third cup of coffee is enough to get anyone off their guard, particularly Carl, as he surreptitiously eyes with suspicion our visitors, especially the deacon.

"By the way, Karen", say I, "I have begun reading your book.  It looks like you have a fascinating story,."

"Thank you", she says.  "In fact, if you would like, I would be very happy to read some of it with you, here if you would be comfortable."

"Yes, I would be honoured", and I see both François and Carl vigorously nodding.  The rest of the visit is taken up by inconsequential chatter, such as Anglicans tend to be tiresomely good at, and both Carl and Francois appear to be getting bored and fidgety.  I am aware now that if Carl has a problem with anyone, it is only with Drew, the deacon.  He appears warm and convivial with Karen, and she seems to invite this.

As we are seeing them to the front door, Carl suddenly says to Deacon Drew, "Well, it is nice to see you again, Robert, after all these years, twenty, I think.  I am glad to see you are doing well in your holy vocation.  I am sure this is more gratifying to you than working in a bank..."

"I beg your pardon?" he says, but Carl tersely replies,

"Oh, but it is not I who needs to be pardoned, Robert.  lovely to see you again, and yes, Karen, if you would like to make time to come over sometime in the week to read with us, please consider yourself welcome.  Ta-ta, Robert", he says as he quickly closes the door...

The Peacock 930

 "He also appeared to be unwell", says Karen, "I mean to say, mentally unwell.  He never once permitted us inside the house, naturally citing the pandemic, so naturally we met only outside in front, and we had no way of knowing the condition he would leave the place in.  But you say, he never came upstairs, not even to feed the cat?"

"I was taking care of the cat, Karen", says Drew.  "She was rather neglected, poor thing."

"She is lovely", she says, casting an eye on Sheeba who is curled up resting in the sun in our midst. "Have you decided to keep her?"

"I will be looking after her", says Francois, extending to her his hand which she sniffs, then places her head under for a caress.

"So you are staying after all".

"Looks that way."

Say I, "We're all in between things right now.  I have a friend, an ex in-law actually, coming from Europe tomorrow, and after his two week quarantine he will be staying with us at the mansion before we move back to the house here.  And Wednesday..."

"Wednesday we will have other visitors", interjects Carl, clearly trying to curtail the conversation...

The Peacock 929

 Say I, "I distinctly remember my father telling me that the archdiocese of Uganda is no longer in contact with us because of the controversy over homosexuality."

"Oh yes", says the deacon, "Your father,  he was a very dedicated priest.  So sad he's gone, Christopher, very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."  I am still not sure if Drew and I have ever met before, but I do remember my father mentioning him several times.  Usually not very favorably.  I am going to let it slide.

"we have been doing some homework", says Karen.  "it turns out he used some rather convenient parties in Uganda to help him connect with this diocese.  He claimed that he wanted an Anglicanism that was a little more liberal and open minded.  However, it also turns out that not only is he every bit as bigoted and hateful as his friends in Uganda," and here she is drawing a sharp breath, "but that it is also highly possible that he has absolutely no legitimacy as an ordinand."

"You mean, he faked it", says Carl.

"His credentials are bogus", says Drew.  "Everything was forged.  "It turns out he simply wanted an easy route to start a new life here.  He had been proprietor of a shoe business in Entebbe that went bankrupt..."

The Peacock 928

 "Yes, unfortunately", says Carl.  "We were also wondering about the fate of the ordinand priest and his son from Uganda.  The boy left a note downstairs.  Do you have it with you; Francois?

"Here it is",he says, handing to the deacon the folded piece of paper.  Together he reads it with Karen.  Then, looking directly at me, says, "The boy is now safe."

"What happened to him?" says Francois.

"There isn't a lot I can reveal right now, to protect him, because his father is at large in London trying to track him down, and by all intents and purposes, has threatened to kill him."

"How did he get away?"

"Oliver had already texted both of us a number of times while here in Vancouver", says Karen. "he said that he was gay, and that his father on several occasions had already threatened to kill him if it ever turned out that his son is queer.  Drew and I immediately got to work at soliciting various contacts in London, where they would be changing planes.  Oliver is one clever boy.  He texted me last night, telling me that just minutes before boarding their flight at Gatwick, he excused himself to quickly use the washroom, but instead he went through customs on the claim that he had relatives waiting for him, and there our contact people met him and took him away to a safe house."

"In London"says Carl.

"That is what we cannot reveal to you", says Drew, who is also Deacon Jenkins.  The boy could be anywhere now in the UK or in Continental Europe...

The Peacock 927

 "I live in a mansion in the mountains overlooking the Fraser valley, not too far from Chilliwack.  It has been in my family since my great grandfather built it just after the First World War.  It seems to have become a retreat centre.  There is also a community living there of which Francois is a member.  Chris arrived there a week ago on retreat.  We have all become suddenly and very close."

"Yes, I see", says Deacon Jenkins.  "Would Robert Griffin be connected to this place."

"He has been very involved", says Carl.

"And you wish to leave". says Karen Wilson.

"Long story", says Carl, who clearly neither trusts our visitors, nor is about to give away for free anything above or beyond the most essential facts.  "You mentioned, by the way, that you have contracted a cleaning company to take care of the basement."

"They should be arriving in less than an hour", says Deacon Jenkins.

"Would you like to see the basement after breakfast?"

"I suppose that would be necessary..."

The Peacock 926

 "I will be turning sixty-two next month", says the deacon.

"I am sixty-one", says the priest as we all file out onto the  deck.  Francois and Carl have brought out extra chairs from the kitchen table, which they are now both portaging to hold the food and coffee cups.

"This is quite a sumptuous breakfast", says Deacon Jenkins-  "Who prepared it?"

"Communal effort", says Carl.  "Chris got the eggs ready, I cooked the French toast, then Chris prepared the fruit and Francois did the scramble eggs with cheese.  And we have all been taking turns making coffee."

"And you are planning to start an intentional community", says the Reverend Wilson.

"I wouldn't call it intentional."

"No?" she says.

"We've been all thrown together", says Carl.

"Would you care to explain, please", says the deacon...

The Peacock 925

 We have all been wearing medical masks since our guests' arrival.  As we get ready to file in for breakfast I ask, "Would people be more comfortable if we have breakfast on the deck outside.  Better air circulation and all."

"I would like that very much, if it isn't too much trouble", says Karen Wilson.

"Has everyone here been vaccinated?" says Francois as he goes into the kitchen.

"I was just given the jab last week", says the deacon.

"Ten days ago", says the priest.

"We were all vaccinated just this Saturday", says Carl as we arrange everything buffet style rather than setting the table.

"Aren't you all rather young?" says the deacon.

"There would be an age range of almost twenty years between us", says Carl, scooping scrambled eggs with cheese on his plate alongside two slices of French toast.

"I thought you were all around thirty or slightly more", says the priest, placing pineapple chunks, with banana and mango onto her plate.

"I'm forty-four", say I.

"I'm thirty-nine says Carl"

"Twenty-six", says Francois.  "Your turn", he says to our guests, bearly suppressing a grin.,