Free The Main Cages by Philip Marsden Page B

herring-coloured sea. Parson Hooper lowered the sash of his bedroom window, looked downriver and prayed for them to clear. By midday it had worked – a westerly breeze had driven away the clouds.
    On the Town Quay the three ministers stood with their backs to the sea. They each clutched a prayerbook to their chest and their robes rippled in the wind. The Town Band assembled beside them. In front, on the broad apron of the harbour, gathered a sizeable crowd. A group had come by boat from Porth and they stood apart from the others.
    Whaler Cuffe gripped Jack’s arm as he followed his stick along the cobbles. ‘Here, Jack … or there – what’s up there?’ They tried several places before finding the right one, wherethe sound of the band and the singing would be exactly in balance.
    At 2.30, Parson Hooper stood on Parliament Bench and spread his arms. The low winter sun shone on his face and gave it a look of glowing innocence. The crowd fell silent beneath him.
    ‘We are gathered together in the sight of the Lord to celebrate the coming of His Son. Lord, you bestowed on us the great gift of Your Only Son and sent him into the world for our sins. We will begin by singing “Once in Royal David’s City”.’
    After that was Thomas Merrit’s ’Lo He Comes, the Infant Stranger’ and then Major Franks read from St John’s gospel. They sang ‘Hark the Glad Sound’ and with each carol the singing grew stronger.
    Parson Hooper climbed up again on Parliament Bench to make the first address. As he began to speak a few clouds drifted in over his head.
    ‘Last week,’ he announced, ‘I discovered in my study the unpublished tract of my late predecessor, the Reverend Winchester. It is a most interesting document and contains a passage on the coming of the New Year. He likens us at the beginning of each year to the captain of a ship sailing under sealed orders. Those orders tell him the course to steer, but he is commanded not to open them until he reaches a certain latitude. In 1936 we have every reason to suppose that even if we are sailing blind, our orders will be favourable. The world has pulled itself out of its recent mire and we are all stronger for it! So enjoy what you have. I have been in Polmayne only a short time but already I look around me and see an enchanted place and think of it – and we who live here – as somehow blessed …’
    The United Methodist minister, the Reverend Brendan Jones, followed. ‘When we wish each other “Happy New Year”, what do we mean? It is not so much a wish as a right of each and every one of you. We have no sympathy withthose who frown upon pleasure. We do not hold that the world is worse because it laughs …’
    Mr Pawle stepped forward for the Bible Christians and said: ‘… I am not expected to be the peddler of intellectual confectionery or the retailer of sweet nothings. It is no use harping about the New Year when nothing in its opening seems worth the wishes spent on it …’
    Everyone but the ministers could see the coming squall. It dashed in across the bay in a skidding acre of dark water. When it reached the quay, they had just begun ‘While Shepherds Watch’. It toppled the music stands of the euphonium and cornet players. The cap of the band leader spun from his head and went wheeling across the quay. Major Franks made a lunge for it, dropping to his knees to try and reach it – but it fell over the edge of the harbour and into the water. He stood and brushed the dirt from his suit trousers. ‘Never was much of a slip fielder!’
    Then came the rain. It hit the company with a cheek-stinging fury. The fourth verse collapsed. The band was reduced to a series of tumbling squawks as the members ducked. When the rain turned to hail everyone ran for shelter. Major Franks escorted Mrs Kliskey. Parson Hooper tried to make an announcement but no one could hear him. Whaler Cuffe stood his ground: ‘Don’t go, please! It’s only a shower!’
    The squall