THE GREEN GREEN GRASS

�Despised by architects, ignored by guide books, too briefly mentioned in directories, these variegated conventicles are witnesses to the taste of industrial Britain. They try to ape nothing. They are anxious not to look like the Church which held them in contempt; not like a house, for they are a place of worship, not like a theatre because they are sacred piles. They succeed in looking like what they are � Chapels � so that the most unobservant traveller can recognise a Chapel from any other building on the street�.

JohnBetjeman'First and Last Loves.' John Murray 1969.

Thomas Evans looked along the yew lined pathway towards the familiar weathered building. On either side, were moss covered gravestones, some at an angle now, their engravings the briefest reminders of past lives. He was early, very early. He followed the path and entered the Chapel through the open double doors. Inside, shafts of sunlight shining through the plain windows onto plain walls and dark wooden benches made artificial lighting unnecessary. He glanced towards the pulpit, and memories of the Reverend James standing there, veins standing out on his neck as he put his heart and soul into the sermon filled his head. In a past life, sometimes those benches would be comfortable, as the Reverend�s words would lift Thomas�s spirit, giving inspiration and direction in a world with so many pathways. At other times he would squirm as words describing the temptations faced through life would boom out and it would be as though the Reverend�s eyes were locked into his own, almost as if accusing.
The Chapel had been an important part of his life. He had attended from a very early age, starting with Sunday school, where through pictures and gentle words, he learned about the scriptures and the presence of a higher being as well as rights and wrongs. Later in youth, he had been allowed to sit beside his parents and though at first he did not understand every word uttered from the pulpit, the power and direction of the text influenced his life. Of course, it wasn�t all deadly serious and he had happy memories of Chapel summer outings to the seaside with picnics, delicious sandwiches, homemade cakes and cool lemonade. There, fathers in their Sunday best would run their fingers around collars, their necks unaccustomed to the constraints of ties, whilst mothers would busy themselves with food preparation. There would be constant chaperoning of the young girls, whose natural beauty would shine through despite their modest dress, attracting admiring glances from boys about to become men.
Thomas had met his wife through the Chapel. The families had been regulars in the congregation for as long as he could remember. Thomas and Sarah had known each other through junior school and exchanged glances across the Chapel aisle. In their teens, helping out at Chapel functions allowed opportunity to get to know one another, and with their parents consent, a relationship blossomed. Thomas didn�t follow his father down the mine, opting instead to continue his education. His parents were proud; their son was the first family member to attend University. Absence makes the heart grow stronger and this was certainly true of Thomas and Sarah. After graduating with a degree in Accounting, Thomas returned to the village and was lucky to find employment with a local firm of accountants.
He looked around the Chapel and recalled the day when Sarah and he were joined in matrimony. He could see it as though it were yesterday; the congregation, their proud parents. The moment they became as one; it was so simple, so right.
Thomas and Sarah had rented a small cottage and spent the next few months getting to know one another, discovering each others little habits, and learning to live in harmony. Life settled into a routine of work, home and Chapel. Sarah ran the Sunday school, and Thomas, after work had finished, helped out where he could.
The opportunity to move came via an advertisement in a trade magazine, and following an interview, Thomas became a junior partner in a firm of accountants in Bristol. �It�s just across the bridge,� Thomas had told Sarah, �Only an hour�s drive away.�
Thomas settled into his new surroundings straightaway. The job was challenging, the firm had several junior partners; he made lots of new friends. They bought a big house, furnished it from the big department stores in the city; the bathroom and kitchen were straight from the glossy magazines Sarah had only dreamed about when they lived in the valleys. She should have been happy, but it wasn�t home.
They found a Chapel nearby, and although the Minister was friendly, and they were made welcome by the congregation, it wasn�t the same. City people led busy lives there wasn�t the same commitment, and there were more distractions.
Thomas worked long hours and Sarah would notice he sometimes smelled of smoke and drink when he came home. �Everybody goes for a drink after work.� He dismissed her, seemingly unaware of how unhappy she was becoming. After a while,he stopped going to Chapel. �Too much work to do and I don�t fit in�. The excuses shocked Sarah who felt a need to go to worship, even if it meant going on her own. They were gradually drifting apart, though Thomas was so engrossed in city life, he failed to notice. He came home one night to find a note from Sarah; she was so homesick and she was going home to her parents. They attempted to reconcile on several occasions but the gap that had grown between them was too large.
Thomas, without the influence of Sarah, drifted into a life of heavy drinking, clubbing and inevitably, there were other women; one night stands mostly; there were always plenty of takers for a rich young accountant.
Life moved on. The divorce when it came was amicable. Thomas accepted his faults and agreed to the modest demands from Sarah�s solicitor. Some time later, he was pleased to learn that Sarah had met someone else. Brian, a tradesman in the village and a regular member of the chapel congregation had lost his wife to an illness some years previous. His faith had given him the strength to carry on with life and he had met Sarah through the various Chapel functions. Sarah had kept in touch with Thomas; she still regarded them as friends.
Sarah�s news, contained in a letter which also updated him about the village prompted Thomas to consider a visit home. He would visit his by now ageing parents and take a present for Sarah and Brian. He set off early the very next Saturday morning. The journey took less than an hour, Thomas�s 3.6 litre Jaguar eating up the miles between Bristol and the valleys as he blatantly ignored all speed limits. He visited Sarah in her cottage; she had changed little but seemed more content now she was back home. His parents were pleased to see him. Father�s hair had gone from grey to pure white and he was somewhat stooped. Mother welcomed him with tears in her eyes, and mildly chastised him for his portly appearance. They didn�t enquire too much as to his private life; the visible signs of his wealth were obvious. He was doing well,his life wouldn�t have suited them, but he was a grown man, their son, and they were proud of him. Thomas looked around. He felt a sense of belonging, but he was a city person now; he may return to the valley, one day, but not just yet.
He made his excuses as the weather deteriorated. The grey drizzle so much a part of valley life, turned to heavy rain, and visibility in a darkening sky was poor. It was just before the motorway when it happened. The drains could normally cope, but this downpour was just too much and dark water formed a puddle across the road. Thomas�s car aquaplaned before plunging down the steep slope and into the river. He didn�t stand a chance.
They were coming now, a silent procession. The plain wooden coffin being carried on the shoulders of six village men dressed in black suits. He could see his parents, colleagues from the office and following up, Sarah; she had come to say goodbye. Their parting had been a mistake, but maybe in another life�
The Minister was waiting, the service about to start. He looked down at the brass plaque on the coffin � Thomas Evans � 1958 � 2006. Rest in Peace. He was too late to return in body, but in spirit he was back here forever.

THE END

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