Arthur & George

Arthur fears to bring the matter up with Touie, in case it upsets the preternatural calm of her existence. She has, he knows, a simple trustingness in matters of faith. She presumes that after she dies she will go to a Heaven whose exact nature she ca

It is harder still for him that he ca

Once he tries recounting, with some tentativeness and a conscious suppression of zeal, his experience at a séance. Almost at once he notices a look of the sharpest disapproval come over those lovely features.

'What is it, my darling?'

'But Arthur,' she says, 'they are such common people.'

'Who are?'

'Those people. Like gypsy women who sit in fairground booths and tell your fortune with cards and tea leaves. They're just… common.'

Arthur finds such snobbery, especially in one he loves, unacceptable. He wants to say that it is the splendid lower-middle-class folk who have always been the spiritual peers of the nation: you need look no farther than the Puritans, whom many, of course, misprized. He wants to say that around the Sea of Galilee there were doubtless many who judged Our Lord Jesus Christ a little common. The Apostles, like most mediums, had little formal education. Naturally, he says none of this. He feels ashamed of his sudden irritation, and changes the subject.

And so he has to go outside his iron-sided triangle. He does not approach Lottie: he does not want to risk her love in any way, the more so as she helps nurse Touie. Instead, he goes to Co

He visits her one afternoon when Hornung is away; tea is served in her little upstairs sitting room, where once she heard him out about Jean. Strange to realize that his little sister is now nearer forty than thirty. But her age suits her. She is not quite as decorative as she once was, she is large, healthy and good-humoured. Jerome was not wrong to have called her a Brü

'Co

She looks at him sharply. Is there bad news about Touie? Is the Mam not well?

'It is a general enquiry,' he adds, sensing her alarm.

'No,' she replies. 'At least, very little. I worry about others dying. Not about myself. I did once, but it changes when you are a mother. I believe in the teachings of the Church. My Church. Our Church. The one you and the Mam left. I haven't the time to believe anything else.'

'Do you fear death?'

Co

Arthur gives a brief shake of the head. 'So your position could be summed up as Wait and See?'

'I suppose so. Why?'

'Dear Co

'What a strange thought.'

Co

'When I was a lad at Stonyhurst, I had a friend called Partridge. He was a little younger than me. A fine catcher in the slips. He liked to bamboozle me with theological argument. He would choose examples of the Church's most illogical doctrines and ask me to justify them.'

'So he was an atheist?'

'Not at all. He was a stronger Catholic than I ever was. But he was trying to convince me of the truths of the Church by arguing against them. It turned out to be a misconceived tactic.'

'I wonder what has become of Partridge.'

Arthur smiles. 'As it happens, he is second cartoonist at Punch.'

He pauses. No, he must go directly at things. That is his way, after all.

'Many people – most people – are terrified of death, Co

Co

'As I say, I believe what my Church teaches,' she replies. 'I see no alternative. Apart from atheism, which is mere emptiness and too depressing for words, and leads to socialism.'

'What do you think of spiritism?'

She knows that Arthur has been dabbling in psychic matters for years now. It is mentioned and half-mentioned behind his back.

'I suppose I mistrust it, Arthur.'

'Why?' He hopes Co

'Because I think it fraudulent.'

'You're right,' he answers, to her surprise. 'Much of it is. True prophets are always outnumbered by false – as Jesus Christ himself was. There is fraud, and trickery, even active criminal behaviour. There are some very dubious fellows muddying the water. Women too, I'm sorry to say.'

'Then that's what I think.'

'And it is not well explained at all. I sometimes think the world is divided into those who have psychic experiences but can't write, and those who can write but have no psychic experiences.'

Co

'But I said "much of it", Co

'I distrust metaphors, Arthur.'

'So do I. So do I. That is why I mistrust faith, which is the biggest metaphor of all. I have done with faith. I can only work with the clear white light of knowledge.'

Co

'The whole point of psychical research,' he explains, 'is to eliminate and expose fraud and deceit. To leave only what can be scientifically confirmed. If you eliminate the impossible, what is left, however improbable, must be the truth. Spiritism is not asking you to take a leap in the dark, or cross a bridge you have not yet come to.'

'So it is like Theosophy?' Co

'Not like Theosophy. In the end, Theosophy is just another faith. As I say, I have done with faith.'

'And with Heaven and Hell?'

'You remember what the Mam told us – "Wear fla

'So everyone goes to Heaven? Si