The Stalker

.
1658 words


         The lace curtain twitched at number twenty-seven Larch Avenue. The twitcher was Eleanor Rigby, spinster of the parish. Her cottage was opposite the local cemetery and Catholic Church, St Andrews. Eleanor didn’t mind being so close to the dead, her parents were there and she had a plot ready and waiting for her along side of them.

         The reason for the curtain twitching today was because she was waiting for Father McKenzie to arrive at the church. There was to be a wedding ceremony in an hour. She knew because she cleaned the church each Monday after the weekend services. Anyway, everyone in the village knew Polly Edwards was marrying that scoundrel Terry Smith, and not before time by the look of her. Eleanor sniffed when she thought of the hanky-panky the pair had been up to. She couldn't bring herself to utter the word “sex.” Not that she’d ever had… you know, but she could imagine.


         Father McKenzie walked the short distance from the rectory to the church, he was dressed in his best cassock, ready to greet the bridegroom. He’d known young Terry since he’d baptised him eighteen years ago. The lad was a bit of a larrikin, but maybe a bit of responsibility will be the making of him and Polly was a bright girl, she’d calm him down, the cleric decided.


         Eleanor peeked from her front window as the procession of guests arrived. She saw Father Christopher McKenzie standing outside of the church with the young bridegroom and his older brother.
         She watched, fascinated by the handsome priest, dressed in his finery and sighed. He was so good looking; she thought. His dark hair had just a touch of silver at the temples and his body was still youthful. The thought of his body under the religious garments gave her a thrill down to her toes.

         Slipping her old green coat over the shapeless, shabby dress, she walked over the road to the church.

         “Hello, Eleanor. Come to wish the young couple well?” Christopher looked at the middle-aged woman and gave a broad smile. There was a definite twinkle in those blue eyes of his. Father McKenzie had a bit of the Irish charm alright.

         “Hello, Father.” Eleanor almost trembled at the sound of his lilting voice. “I just came to see the bride. Sweet Polly.”

         “Well, looks like you’re just in time. Come on young man,” he nodded towards the bridal car which was turning into Larch Avenue, “you’d better get to the altar to greet your beautiful bride.”

         They all went inside and Eleanor took her place at the back of the church.


         Polly walked down the aisle with her father and everyone’s eyes were on her, everyone’s except Eleanor’s, she only had eyes for Christopher McKenzie. She replayed in her head the words he’d spoken to her earlier. He knows my name; I think he really likes me. I can tell.

         She began to imagine being the bride walking towards Father McKenzie, but he wasn’t officiating, he was the groom. Her groom!


         After that day, she began to dream about the life they would have. Maybe she might still become a mother. After all, women these days seem to be having babies way into their forties.

She would write to him, she decided. But maybe not disclose her identity just yet. She just knew he’d guess anyway.

~~~

         Christopher walked into the rectory kitchen and shivered. “It’s time we did something about getting some central heating into this old house, isn’t it, boy?” He spoke to the black Labrador lying in his basket in front of the empty fire grate. Billy lifted his head at the sound of his master’s voice and his tail thumped heavily onto the cold tiles a couple of times.

         They both heard the morning’s mail drop onto the hall mat. Billy jumped up, barked, and ran to the door.

         Christopher followed and picked up the newspaper and the post before walking back into the kitchen, skimming through them to see if there was anything important. Besides the power bill and a dental appointment reminder, he saw a handwritten letter addressed to Father Christopher McKenzie. He opened it thinking how nice it was to receive a personal letter in these days of emails and Facebook.

         My Dearest Christopher, I know you have been noticing me. I decided to make things a little easier for you and contact you myself. Perhaps you were thinking I may not be interested in dating a man of the cloth. I know it must be difficult for you resisting the temptation to break your vows of celibacy, however be assured I would not judge you and would respect your secret.
It was signed, Your secret lover.

         Christopher was horrified. He’d heard of priests being put into difficult situations before with women who decide to show him what they’d been missing. His mind went into overdrive thinking of all the women who attended the church and who may be a likely candidate. Not once did Eleanor Rigby’s name cross his mind.


         The letters began to arrive weekly, then even more often, each one getting bolder until the latest one suggested a clandestine meeting in the churchyard late that night because, as the writer said… “It’s time, my darling, to consummate our love. I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed and pale these days. You seem to have lost weight. I know your sermons have been directed to me. I have heard your words and understood their secret hidden meanings. Let us meet tonight. The moon is new and in its darkness we can at last be joined as man and woman were decreed to be by God himself.

         “Oh Christ, this has gone too far. I need to get the police involved. The woman’s lost her mind, whoever she is.”

~~~

         Sergeant Tom Baker looked up from his desk. “Hello, Father, it’s not often you pay us a visit. What can we do for you?”

         “Hello, Tom, how’s Mary feeling these days? Tell her I’ve missed her at church.”

         “I’ll tell her you asked, Father. The doctor says she’s doing well.” But by the look on your face, you’ve not come to talk about my missus.”

         “No, that’s true enough, Tom. I have a problem. It’s a little delicate, so I do hope I can rely on your discretion?

         “Of course, that goes without saying. You’d be surprised at the things we have to deal with. So what’s your problem, Father?”

         Christopher showed him the stack of letters and explained how he’d thought if he ignored them, whoever the author was, they’d tire of the whole business.

         “But as you can see by today’s letter, she thinks I’m going to have a clandestine meeting with her tonight in the churchyard.” Christopher gave the appearance of a man possessed as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He needed a shave, and instead of his usual immaculate appearance, his shirt was wrinkled and untucked from his trousers.

         Tom restrained himself from having a chuckle at Father McKenzie’s expense until he saw how upset he was. “Okay, Father, I’ll send a constable to the churchyard tonight, just in case there’s any trouble.”

         “I’d appreciate that, Tom. This woman might get nasty when I confront her. She’s definitely unstable.”

         The two men shook hands, and Christopher left to prepare for the meeting.

~~~

         The moon was indeed just a sliver in the dark sky. Even the stars seemed to have dimmed, especially for the secret rendezvous. An owl flew across in front of Christopher, making him startle. “Christ Almighty, I’m a nervous wreck,” he whispered to the young constable Sergeant Tom had sent to escort him into the churchyard.

         There was no sign or sound of the letter writer. The church clock struck ten, the time the woman had suggested in the letter. In the pitch blackness came a flicker of light. Someone was hiding behind a huge headstone depicting a winged Angel.

         Christopher’s heart leapt when a figure dressed in dark clothing appeared from behind the Angel. The light from the torch’s beam momentarily blinded him, but there was something familiar about the woman…” Eleanor Rigby! Is that you?”

         “Of course, who else would it be, Christopher?” She answered, although there was something different about her voice, as if she was trying to speak in a husky, seductive manner.

         The priest was speechless. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he saw she was wearing nothing under her open coat. “Eleanor! What are you thinking, woman? Cover yourself.”

         The constable stepped out of the shadows and approached her. “You heard what he said, madame. You’d better make yourself decent.”

         Eleanor was shocked at this turn of events and quickly fastened her coat before a torrent of abuse came from her lips. “You bastard. You tricked me into believing you wanted me. Desired me!”

         Christopher tried to reason with her, but her cries and hateful words stopped any attempt of his to make her see reason.

         Then, as if all her strength left her body, she started to sob, “All I wanted was just the two of us to be together. Just once,” she sobbed and fell to her knees.

         “You’ll need to come with me to the station, Miss.” The police officer took her arm and lifted her up gently.

~~~

         After the court case, when she was sentenced to 100 hours of community service for harassment and stalking, Eleanor never recovered from the embarrassment. Her life held no meaning for her.


         Several weeks later, one cold and snowy morning, Father McKenzie stood by a grave and intoned the words of the funeral ceremony. He wiped the dirt from his hands and whispered, “I’m so sorry you had to die alone. Of all the lonely people, you were the loneliest, Eleanor.”

         There was no one there. She was buried alone.

Song Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles



































































.