Free Angels in the Architecture by Sue Fitzmaurice

‘Do you know what’s in there?’
    ‘Ah, no. I don’t. What is in there?’
    The woman was clearly pleased with the small spectacle. She turned to Pete. ‘Actually, it’s a shrine.’
    Pete’s eyebrows rose.
    ‘It used to be a lot bigger and more ornate but was destroyed during a war once. It’s known as the Shrine of Little Hugh.’ She looked back to Tim. ‘A young boy from the Middle Ages. Quite a horrendous story. Supposedly he was crucified and then tossed down a well. His death was blamed on the Jews, although undoubtedly that wasn’t the case. Some were executed though for the crime. The boy was considered a martyr and was interred here. No one knows now, of course, who he really was or what really happened.’ She stared still at Tim and then turned back to Pete. ‘But perhaps your wee boy does.’
    Pete stared at her.
    ‘But never mind me, I like to imagine these things.’ She laughed a little, at herself it seemed.
    Pete looked to Tim and back. She was rather jolly, this woman, and open, as she smiled at them all. ‘Tim ... he knows ... some things we don’t know, for sure.’
    ‘Well , I find most small children do have some wisdom about them, I have to say.’
    ‘Tim’s autistic ,’ Pete explained.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh. Well.’ She looked intriguingly at Tim. ‘I’m Rose Draper. I’m a deaconess here.’ She turned back to Pete and extended her hand.
    ‘ Pete Watson.’ Pete shook her hand. ‘This is Jillie. We live at Nocton Fen. Jillie and I’ve been a few times to the Cathedral, haven’t we?’
    ‘Yes, I like it.’ Jillie stepped forward .
    ‘Well , I’m glad.’ She seemed genuinely delighted.
    ‘Mmm,’ Jillie responded shyly.
    ‘Well, it’s a curious attachment your Tim has to our Little Hugh.’
    ‘Oh, you know, he’s just tired really. We’ve had quite a day. And he does this thing looking along vertical and horizontal lines like this, especially when he’s tired. It’s called local coherence – when things are getting a bit much, if there’s too much going on – autistic kids will activate some little habitual behaviour they have, and it keeps anxieties and uncertainties about their environment at bay. So that’s one of the things he does.’ Pete looked at his son. ‘Looks like he’s on to something else though now,’ he said.
    Tim was smiling, wide-mouthed and wide-eyed.
    Jillie was holding her father’s hand again and also watching her brother. She could see the light again, that had come before when Tim talked to the Swan.
    ‘You know, he smiles like this – at nothing seemingly – all the time. Sometimes I swear it’s to the same vacant spot in mid-air, completely as though there’s something there that no one else can see. We’ve just been down to the lake, and he’s been having the most unbelievable little chat with one enormous swan. My wife was just about beside herself. He practically walked off with it.’
    ‘It was talking to him, Daddy. I could see it.’
    ‘Yes, well , it did rather look like it, that’s for sure.’
    ‘You know that the real St Hugh – Bishop Hugh – who rebuilt the cathedral in the Middle Ages, is the Patron Saint of swans and sick children.’
    ‘Really?’ Pete said.
    ‘So that makes for a nice little story, doesn’t it? Your wee man here chatting with swans just like a real saint.’
    ‘Oh, well ... ’
    ‘You know , I really do think some children can connect into something we can’t – as though we’ve lost it – and they haven’t yet. And there are children like Tim – I’ve seen this before – you’re right, they see things we don’t. And I do wonder about that, I really do. It gives me enormous pause to consider the ways we conceive of God, that I wonder may be quite ... well, not so useful. I don’t know. Anyway, you’re quite blessed I’m sure, Pete, to have Tim.’
    ‘Thank you. Not many people would think that. It’s nice of you to notice.’
    ‘Well, I must away. Things to