Angels and Men Read Free Page A

asked himself ‘Where were we?’ Dr Mowbray said, ‘I’m so sorry. This is John Whitaker. Training for the ministry here at Coverdale Hall.’
    Mara turned at last to look at him. He made no effort to stand, merely gave a slight ironic salute and smiled at her. She stared briefly, then looked back at Dr Mowbray. Good God. Not my mental picture of an ordinand.
    â€˜If ever you’re locked out of your car, John’s your man. I’ll get that book for you.’ Dr Mowbray walked towards a shelf and began to run his finger along the spines.
    What’s this? thought Mara. An ordinand with a shady past? She couldn’t prevent herself sneaking another glance at the young man. He was ready for her, and winked. She looked away again, flushing angrily.
    â€˜Do you have enthusiasm?’ asked Dr Mowbray.
    Enthusiasm? ‘In my way.’
    â€˜The book – oh, ah yes. Very good. Touché .’ He handed her a volume. Enthusiasm , she read on the spine. Ah. She bit on a smile. This was going to be one of the problems with having read English and not theology. She had done as much frantic reading as she could over the summer, cantering briskly through centuries of church history, slowing to a trot over rocky doctrinal countryside, collapsing at last in despair in the vast trackless wastes of German liberal protestantism. Despite all this, parcels of unexploded ignorance lay concealed on all sides. Even the most innocent-seeming question – Who is so-and-so? – could go off in your face. You might be asking the equivalent of ‘Who is Shakespeare, exactly?’ Or, on the other hand, the unknown theologian might be an obscure Restoration dramatist, as it were, that nobody could expect you to know about. Dr Mowbray continued to hand her books. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she could see the young man grinning. Maybe he had seen through her. Or maybe he was amused at the number of books she was now holding. This thought seemed to strike Dr Mowbray.
    â€˜Well, I’m sure that will keep you going for a few days.’ He smiled. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
    â€˜No thanks.’ She began to make a move towards the door.
    â€˜Sure? Well, give my regards to your father when you next speak to him.’
    When they serve ice-cream in hell. She gave a nod. Why wouldn’t he let her go? He was like the person who keeps raising points of information when other people want the meeting to finish.
    â€˜And to your mother, of course.’
    Another nod. Yes yes yes.
    He walked with her towards the door. ‘Does your father still have his legendary violent temper, I wonder?’
    Her hand was on the handle, but this brought her back sharply. ‘No,’ she said in astonishment.
    â€˜Really?’ He seemed surprised himself. ‘He had the worst temper I’ve ever come across.’ The words ‘present company excepted’ seemed to hang in the air unspoken. Mara’s glance darted involuntarily towards the man on the sofa again. He was lighting a cigarette, and appeared to be paying no attention.
    â€˜I’m afraid Morgan-baiting was something of a college sport,’ went on Dr Mowbray. ‘To see how quickly he could be made to explode. He was always so passionate about everything.’
    Mara stood as still as a stone. Why was I never told this before? Why have I always been made to feel like a changeling? In her mind she heard the adult voices: Why can’t you be nice like Hester? . . . What a face! . . . Dear me, what a naughty temper. I don’t know where she gets it from.
    â€˜I’ve never heard him raise his voice.’
    â€˜Well, people change,’ said Dr Mowbray. His tone had a summing-up quality.
    â€˜Thanks for these.’ She made a gesture with the pile of books.
    â€˜You’re welcome. If there’s anything else . . .’ She had the door open. ‘It’s been good to meet you,