Free The Memory Tree by Tess Evans Page A

career.’
    Godown snorted. ‘Choice of career? Choice? Don’t you see I’m black? What choice you think I got?’ He held Hal’s embarrassed gaze in his own. ‘Even at the Garden, they only want me for my muscles.’
    Hal turned away and began to poke at the fire. ‘I’m sorry . . . didn’t think,’ he mumbled. What Hal meant was, he didn’t notice. He saw that Godown was black of course, but it made no difference to him at all and it pained him that it might make a difference to others. My grandfather was a straightforward man, genuinely unable to imagine why skin colour should be an issue. He listened courteously as Godown continued.
    ‘You know why I can’t do the Lord’s work properly? One— I’m a lone black man in a white city. And two—I work in a brothel.’
    Hal was intrigued. ‘But you invite the punters in. How can you square that with God?’
    ‘The Lord tells me to give to Caesar that which is Caesar’s. The Garden pays me, and I owe it to them to do a good job.’ He grinned conspiratorially. ‘Don’t stop me from tryin’ to convert some of them girls, though.’
    They sat in companionable silence for some moments, then Godown looked shrewdly at his host. ‘I’m sensin’ somethin’ sad in your life, friend,’ he said. ‘Offer your sorrows to the Lord. He’s a truly lovin’ Father.’
    ‘So they say,’ said Hal drily. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed it myself.’
    ‘You can’t say that. Let me help you, friend.’
    ‘Hal. Please. Hal.’
    ‘Hal. Let me show you the ways of the Lord. Let me unlock the springs of your sorrow.’
    Hal had never heard anyone speak this way in normal conversation. It was so rhythmic and soothing it sounded like poetry. Or a song. The resonance of Godown’s voice made his words a song.
    From that moment, Hal placed his trust in Pastor Godown Moses. He told him how he had built this house for his bride. How they had two precious children. How they had lived happily, but not ever after.
    ‘I’ve tried to reach her—I’ve tried to reconcile with God. But she moves further away every day. I’ve let her down and she’s moving further away from me.’
    ‘She’s waitin’ for you, Hal. When your time in this vale of tears has passed, she’ll be there, waitin’ to lead you to glory.’
    This notion of a kindly God. Hal knew it was all rubbish, of course. No different from Father Murphy when you thought about it. But he had seen faith and hope in this man’s eyes. What if it wasn’t rubbish? What if this stranger knew, really knew that the universe made sense? That the loss of a loved one was a temporary state? What if he actually knew the one thing that Hal wanted to believe?
    Hal’s voice was low, so low that Godown had to lean forward to hear him. ‘How can I know? What can I do?’
    The pastor’s eyes shone. ‘You have to know the Lord to understand his ways.’
    ‘Tell me about him.’
    Godown could recite whole passages of the Bible by heart. ‘In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth . . . Now what does that tell you, friend?’
    Hal had never thought much about the meaning of the scriptures and was largely unfamiliar with the Old Testament.
    ‘A bit more,’ he said. ‘I can’t get anything out of a few words.’
    Leaning forward, Godown grasped his hands. ‘But you can. Just think. First there was nothin’ and no-one ’cept God. And what did he do? He created places—homes for us, Hal. For you and me. God created heaven and earth .’
    ‘How do we know he created them for us? Maybe he wanted them for Himself.’
    ‘Because He didn’t need no place for Himself. He was already there . Logic, Hal. He created them places for somethin’ outside of Himself. Us.’ He emphasised his words by tapping his own then Hal’s chest. ‘Me ’n’ you, Hal. Me ’n’ you.’
    Hal was impressed by the other man’s certainty. He refused to question the spurious argument because he wanted so much to believe. If there was