HAPGOOD'S STICK
Written by Peter Bayliss
December 1995
ushing back his chair, the Rev. John Musgrave got to his feet. He put a hand up
to his mouth and coughed delicately, then turned to face the older, white-haired man
facing him. "On behalf of the parish of St. Mark's," he said, "I'd like to
express our thanks for this most generous donation." He warmly shook hands with the
church's benefactor, the two of them freezing for a moment, holding up the cheque between
them. A flashgun popped, briefly illuminating the village hall and giving John a better
view of a certain gentleman in old-fashioned clerical garb sitting alone at the back of
the audience.
Once the rector had resumed his seat, he turned to the lady next to him.
"Edith," he whispered, "who is that visiting cleric at the back? I don't
remember seeing him before."
Edith adjusted her horn-rimmed spectacles and
scrutinised the audience. "I'm sorry, vicar, I ... I can't quite see where you
mean."
He repeated the question, this time hastily pointing
to the figure. But her bewilderment soon made it apparent that she could see no one
sitting in that place.
After a moment, Musgrave nodded and smiled to
himself. "But, of course, I know who you are," he murmured to himself.
It was about a week ago that the
Rev. Musgrave had first given serious thought to Dr. Ebenezer Hapgood, a former vicar of
the parish who'd had something of a reputation as a brilliant fund-raiser. In a trunk in
the vicarage attic Musgrave had found an old silver-topped walking stick with the initials
'E H' on the side. Below it was a crucifix and a Latin inscription, which translated as
'One Good Deed Benefits Many'. He recalled old photographs of the rather eccentric Hapgood
walking with this same silver-topped cane.
"I could use some of your fund-raising expertise
now," he'd muttered to the stick. The church was in such desperate need of
restoration that unless the work started soon, the building would be too unsafe to use
anymore. His parishioners would have to join with the next parish and worship in their
church under the incumbency of their own rector. To put it plainly, he would be out of a
job. |
 |
The midwinter weather had taken a turn for the worse. A hard frost and a fresh fall of
snow during the night had made the ground very treacherous under foot, so it was for that
reason he decided to take Dr. Hapgood's stick with him as he walked to St. Mark's. John
was so preoccupied with parish matters and the problems of fund-raising that he paid
little attention to where he was going. The walk to church was so automatic, anyway, that
it normally required no conscious effort. He could have done it in his sleep, he thought.
So he was therefore rather shaken on suddenly finding that he'd been walking in the wrong
direction. In fact, he wasn't even too sure of exactly where he was. Certainly, nowhere
near the church. It was almost, he thought, as if Dr. Hapgood's stick had been sort of
unconsciously guiding him.
As the vicar looked around to take in his bearings, he
suddenly became aware of an old man about to cross the road just a few yards from where he
stood. The old fellow hadn't looked properly and was about to step out in the path of an
oncoming lorry.
"Look out!" cried John.
He rushed forward, his arm holding Hapgood's stick shooting
out in front of the old man to hold him back. It was an instinctive movement, although it
was almost [he thought afterwards] as if ... well, as if the stick had been pulling his
arm forwards. The lorry thundered past, knocking it from his hand but not touching either
of the two men.
After a moment, John's companion got his breath back.
"However can I thank you, young man? You've saved my life! But I'm afraid your
stick...," he continued, pausing for breath, "your lovely stick is broken to
pieces." Sadly, the rector realised it was true - after knocking the cane from his
hand, the lorry had run over it, smashing it beyond all repair. But it could, of course,
have been very much worse.
"Never mind about that," he said. "It's you
I'm more concerned about."
Despite John's protestations, the old man insisted on
rewarding him for his action. He was, it later appeared, a wealthy retired industrialist.
And once the rector's situation and the plight of the church became known, the old man was
willing to make a large donation to restoration funds. St. Mark's would now be saved, and
for a moment John couldn't help pondering on the stick's Latin inscription: 'One Good
Deed Benefits Many'!
John watched the audience as they filed out of the village hall
after the presentation was over. They all seemed to ignore the old clergyman sitting at
the back, but John had concluded that the figure was only visible to him.
Only when the rest of the audience had gone did the rector
see the old clergyman get to his feet. And before turning to leave the hall, he nodded and
smiled at John. As he did so, he lifted his right arm and waved a silver-topped cane
bearing the initials 'E H'.
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