Road To Discovery

 

What a terrible winter evening it was that day when Father Ignatius had to visit Theodore Luxton-Joyce at his mansion.

It was about six o’clock in the evening, it was dark and it had been raining all day. It was that kind of annoying drizzle that you get for hours on end sometimes in England. Father Ignatius was glad to be indoors in the warmth when the phone rang and Theodore’s butler asked him to come over urgently. There had been some sort of emergency which he was “not at liberty to discuss on the telephone”, as the butler put it somewhat pompously.

The priest put on his coat and went out driving in the dark and in the rain. Something which he hated to do immensely.

Half-an-hour later he’d arrived at Theodore’s mansion and he noticed a police car parked outside.

The butler opened the door and said “let me take you to the library where all will be explained to you!”

Father Ignatius nodded and said nothing, following the butler and leaving a trail of water dripping from his coat and wet shoes.

Theodore was in the library with two policemen and a man in civilian clothing. As soon as he saw the priest the man in civilian clothing got up and signaled Father Ignatius out of the room again. “May I have a word Sir?” he mumbled as they walked out of the room.

Once out of the library the man asked, “Are you Father Ignatius?”

“Yes … I am” said the priest.

“It’s good you’re here Sir,” said the man, “I am Detective Chief Inspector George Drayton … we’ve been called because Mrs Luxton-Joyce has gone missing.

“She left here at about lunchtime to visit some friends down South. She drove her own car and has not phoned her husband to say she’s arrived safely, as previously arranged.

“Mr Luxton-Joyce should have heard from her two hours ago. He phoned her friends and they say she has not arrived.

“He’s in a bad state Sir … he refuses to see a doctor and he’s asked for you.

“We’re pursuing our enquiries with other police forces and hospitals … at this stage we’re keeping an open mind on what may have happened.”

“What do you mean?” asked the priest.

“Well … him being very rich and all that … anyway. I’ll keep a policeman on the premises should you need to contact us urgently …”

“You don’t mean …” Father Ignatius hesitated, “you don’t suggest she’s been kidnapped?”

“Well Sir … at this stage we have very little to go on … there would have been a phone call by now had she been abducted … we’re tracing all phone calls. I should be grateful if you could calm him down a little … in case anyone phones.”

As they entered the room again the detective nodded and the two policemen got out leaving the priest alone with Theodore.

Father Ignatius said a silent prayer in his mind, a habit he’d developed long ago, and approached Theodore quietly and placed his hand on his shoulder. The man looked up from his seat and said “Where is she Padre … why has she not phoned?”

His eyes were red albeit he maintained his composure.

“I pray it will be all right Theodore …” replied Father Ignatius gently.

“I’ve been praying too Padre … I’ve been praying so much I’m tired of praying … I doubt God is listening …”

“He is … just keep believing Theodore,” said the priest, “would you like some tea?”

Theodore shook his head.

“I couldn’t have anything … I’m so worried Padre … I couldn’t live without her … not after losing my first wife … if anything happened to her I’d die …”

“Hey … hey … hold it right there!” said Father Ignatius firmly, “you’re running ahead of yourself Theodore … just take a deep breath … that’s right … hold it there … now exhale gently. Do it again a few times.

“Let us trust in God … let’s keep calm … the police are doing all they can and they’ll let us know as soon as they hear something …”

“Yes … sorry Padre” mumbled Theodore, “but … what if she’s been kidnapped … I’d give everything to have her back …”

“Don’t even think about that for now …” interrupted the priest, “let’s keep calm shall we …”

Theodore nodded and said nothing for a few moments, sitting there staring at the telephone and willing it to ring.

“She’s changed my life since I met her …” he said eventually. “I never thought I’d meet someone else again … not after my first wife died and at my age … then Rose came into my life and changed it …”

Father Ignatius said nothing, preferring to let the man speak and perhaps calm down a little. Theodore continued.

“I so hate to be away from her … I have to travel sometimes for business and it’s hell being away from her …

“When I’m in a hotel alone I go crazy just thinking of her … when I’ve finished my business meetings and I go to my room … I dread it … I dread being there without her … I sit there and close my eyes and imagine she’s with me … I hold out my hand and it’s as if she’s there … I feel her love … I feel her presence near me …

“We may be miles apart … and when I phone her I can see her smile right there as we talk …

“And when we finish talking I just sit there in my room … I close my eyes and I’m with her … I could almost touch her … I love her so much Padre.”

Father Ignatius smiled gently.

“That’s wonderful …” he said, “have you ever told her how you feel?”

“Good Lord no …” replied the elderly man, “you don’t talk like that to a woman old boy … she’d think you’ve gone soft in the head … you must be strong old boy … expected of you and all that … what?”

Father Ignatius smiled again noticing that Theodore had rediscovered his usual impetuous character of speaking spontaneously without thinking.

“I believe you should tell her how you feel about her …” said the priest, “I’m sure Rose will love to hear what you’ve just told me … and how much she means to you …”

“But … but … it goes without saying old boy … she should know how I feel … there’s no need for me to spell it out …” blurted Theodore forgetting for a moment the situation they were in.

“No Theodore …” said Father Ignatius gently, “it does not go without saying … it needs to be said … and repeated often …”

“Sheer nonsense …” interrupted Theodore, “amorous words and lovey dovey affection is for young people … not for the likes of me and Rose …”

“That is not so …” continued Father Ignatius gently, “there is no age limit on love …

“Love is like a delicate flower which needs to be nurtured and cared for tenderly to help it grow and develop …

“I have met many couples in my days as a priest who love each other deeply … yet they never say it … they leave things unsaid … and perhaps take things for granted …

“Until sometimes it’s too late …”

The priest bit his lip as he realized he’d perhaps said too much. Theodore looked up at him as if awakened from a nightmare.

“It’s not … It’s not too late … is it Father?” he mumbled, his lip trembling uncontrollably.

It was the first time Theodore had addressed the priest as Father instead of the usual Padre which he was accustomed of using. It punctuated perhaps the seriousness of the situation and the depth of despair which Theodore had reached.

At this very moment God must have intervened, because before Father Ignatius had time to reply the door opened and the police inspector came in.

“We have some news …” he said, “Mrs Luxton-Joyce’s car was found half-an-hour ago in a ditch in a secluded country lane. It appears she took a detour on her way to her friends to avoid road-works. She lost control of her vehicle in the rain and slipped in the ditch causing her to lose consciousness. She’s been taken to hospital in an ambulance …”

“Is she all right?” shouted Theodore standing up.

“Yes sir … she appears not to have been hurt seriously … I have a car waiting to drive you to the hospital.”

Father Ignatius drove back home with a thankful heart that fateful evening when God heard his prayers once again.

And Theodore discovered for the first time not to keep his love silently hidden within his own heart.

SINGER - LEO SAYER

 

The story above is an excerpt from my book

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Road To Discovery

What a terrible winter evening it was that day when Father Ignatius had to visit Theodore Luxton-Joyce at his mansion.

It was about six o’clock in the evening, it was dark and it had been raining all day. It was that kind of annoying drizzle that you get for hours on end sometimes in England. Father Ignatius was glad to be indoors in the warmth when the phone rang and Theodore’s butler asked him to come over urgently. There had been some sort of emergency which he was “not at liberty to discuss on the telephone”, as the butler put it somewhat pompously.

The priest put on his coat and went out driving in the dark and in the rain. Something which he hated to do immensely.

Half-an-hour later he’d arrived at Theodore’s mansion and he noticed a police car parked outside.

The butler opened the door and said “let me take you to the library where all will be explained to you!”

Father Ignatius nodded and said nothing, following the butler and leaving a trail of water dripping from his coat and wet shoes.

Theodore was in the library with two policemen and a man in civilian clothing. As soon as he saw the priest the man in civilian clothing got up and signaled Father Ignatius out of the room again. “May I have a word Sir?” he mumbled as they walked out of the room.

Once out of the library the man asked, “Are you Father Ignatius?”

“Yes … I am” said the priest.

“It’s good you’re here Sir,” said the man, “I am Detective Chief Inspector George Drayton … we’ve been called because Mrs Luxton-Joyce has gone missing.

“She left here at about lunchtime to visit some friends down South. She drove her own car and has not phoned her husband to say she’s arrived safely, as previously arranged.

“Mr Luxton-Joyce should have heard from her two hours ago. He phoned her friends and they say she has not arrived.

“He’s in a bad state Sir … he refuses to see a doctor and he’s asked for you.

“We’re pursuing our enquiries with other police forces and hospitals … at this stage we’re keeping an open mind on what may have happened.”

“What do you mean?” asked the priest.

“Well … him being very rich and all that … anyway. I’ll keep a policeman on the premises should you need to contact us urgently …”

“You don’t mean …” Father Ignatius hesitated, “you don’t suggest she’s been kidnapped?”

“Well Sir … at this stage we have very little to go on … there would have been a phone call by now had she been abducted … we’re tracing all phone calls. I should be grateful if you could calm him down a little … in case anyone phones.”

As they entered the room again the detective nodded and the two policemen got out leaving the priest alone with Theodore.

Father Ignatius said a silent prayer in his mind, a habit he’d developed long ago, and approached Theodore quietly and placed his hand on his shoulder. The man looked up from his seat and said “Where is she Padre … why has she not phoned?”

His eyes were red albeit he maintained his composure.

“I pray it will be all right Theodore …” replied Father Ignatius gently.

“I’ve been praying too Padre … I’ve been praying so much I’m tired of praying … I doubt God is listening …”

“He is … just keep believing Theodore,” said the priest, “would you like some tea?”

Theodore shook his head.

“I couldn’t have anything … I’m so worried Padre … I couldn’t live without her … not after losing my first wife … if anything happened to her I’d die …”

“Hey … hey … hold it right there!” said Father Ignatius firmly, “you’re running ahead of yourself Theodore … just take a deep breath … that’s right … hold it there … now exhale gently. Do it again a few times.

“Let us trust in God … let’s keep calm … the police are doing all they can and they’ll let us know as soon as they hear something …”

“Yes … sorry Padre” mumbled Theodore, “but … what if she’s been kidnapped … I’d give everything to have her back …”

“Don’t even think about that for now …” interrupted the priest, “let’s keep calm shall we …”

Theodore nodded and said nothing for a few moments, sitting there staring at the telephone and willing it to ring.

“She’s changed my life since I met her …” he said eventually. “I never thought I’d meet someone else again … not after my first wife died and at my age … then Rose came into my life and changed it …”

Father Ignatius said nothing, preferring to let the man speak and perhaps calm down a little. Theodore continued.

“I so hate to be away from her … I have to travel sometimes for business and it’s hell being away from her …

“When I’m in a hotel alone I go crazy just thinking of her … when I’ve finished my business meetings and I go to my room … I dread it … I dread being there without her … I sit there and close my eyes and imagine she’s with me … I hold out my hand and it’s as if she’s there … I feel her love … I feel her presence near me …

“We may be miles apart … and when I phone her I can see her smile right there as we talk …

“And when we finish talking I just sit there in my room … I close my eyes and I’m with her … I could almost touch her … I love her so much Padre.”

Father Ignatius smiled gently.

“That’s wonderful …” he said, “have you ever told her how you feel?”

“Good Lord no …” replied the elderly man, “you don’t talk like that to a woman old boy … she’d think you’ve gone soft in the head … you must be strong old boy … expected of you and all that … what?”

Father Ignatius smiled again noticing that Theodore had rediscovered his usual impetuous character of speaking spontaneously without thinking.

“I believe you should tell her how you feel about her …” said the priest, “I’m sure Rose will love to hear what you’ve just told me … and how much she means to you …”

“But … but … it goes without saying old boy … she should know how I feel … there’s no need for me to spell it out …” blurted Theodore forgetting for a moment the situation they were in.

“No Theodore …” said Father Ignatius gently, “it does not go without saying … it needs to be said … and repeated often …”

“Sheer nonsense …” interrupted Theodore, “amorous words and lovey dovey affection is for young people … not for the likes of me and Rose …”

“That is not so …” continued Father Ignatius gently, “there is no age limit on love …

“Love is like a delicate flower which needs to be nurtured and cared for tenderly to help it grow and develop …

“I have met many couples in my days as a priest who love each other deeply … yet they never say it … they leave things unsaid … and perhaps take things for granted …

“Until sometimes it’s too late …”

The priest bit his lip as he realized he’d perhaps said too much. Theodore looked up at him as if awakened from a nightmare.

“It’s not … It’s not too late … is it Father?” he mumbled, his lip trembling uncontrollably.

It was the first time Theodore had addressed the priest as Father instead of the usual Padre which he was accustomed of using. It punctuated perhaps the seriousness of the situation and the depth of despair which Theodore had reached.

At this very moment God must have intervened, because before Father Ignatius had time to reply the door opened and the police inspector came in.

“We have some news …” he said, “Mrs Luxton-Joyce’s car was found half-an-hour ago in a ditch in a secluded country lane. It appears she took a detour on her way to her friends to avoid road-works. She lost control of her vehicle in the rain and slipped in the ditch causing her to lose consciousness. She’s been taken to hospital in an ambulance …”

“Is she all right?” shouted Theodore standing up.

“Yes sir … she appears not to have been hurt seriously … I have a car waiting to drive you to the hospital.”

Father Ignatius drove back home with a thankful heart that fateful evening when God heard his prayers once again.

And Theodore discovered for the first time not to keep his love silently hidden within his own heart.

Excerpt from the book 

THEODORE LUXTON-JOYCE - THE LOVEABLE ECCENTRIC

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Theodore's Boxing Day

It had been a busy year for Theodore Luxton-Joyce the eccentric millionaire businessman and he hadn’t been in touch with Father Ignatius for some time. So it was a surprise for the priest when the phone rang early on Boxing Day, the day just after Christmas, and he heard the familiar voice.

“Is that yourself Padre?” asked Theodore.

“Yes … it is. Merry Christmas Theodore to you and Rose …”

“Yes quite … jolly good …” interrupted Theodore, “I was somewhat concerned at getting that other French priest on the phone. You know the one … you’ve had him visiting lately …”

“Yes … Father Gaston. He has gone back to Paris”.

“Jolly good I say … what? Never liked the French … Father Gaston being an exception of course … he was rather quiet and said very little … just as I like the French to be … what?”

Father Ignatius smiled and said nothing whilst Theodore continued totally unaware of what he was saying.

“Right … now that I’ve got you on the phone rather than that French fellow, I need you urgently to help me out! Terrible spot of bother … old boy … terrible I say!”

The priest frowned fearing the worst. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“Well … Rose and I had arranged a quiet after Christmas get-together for this evening and we’d invited the Mortimers … you know them? He’s a businessman working from the US most of the time. No … Of course you don’t know the Mortimers. Have you ever been to America Padre? I’m sure the Vatican has opened a few Branches over there …

“Anyway … back to the Mortimers. They’re over here right now for a few days … visiting family … that sort of thing … Rose and I thought we’d invite them for a spot of dinner this evening … Disaster old boy! Disaster I tell you!”

Father Ignatius smiled again.

“Well, as it happens …” continued Theodore never stopping to pause for breath, “the Mortimers can’t make it tonight. Jolly bad show don’t you think? We’ve got most of the food prepared and all … well Mrs Frosdick the cook and her staff have everything prepared anyway … And the Mortimers can’t make it for dinner. They’re stuck up North because of the terrible snow storms we’ve been having over Christmas. Totally snowed in and cut off from civilization and a drop of whisky I shouldn’t wonder!

 “So I thought of inviting the Hendersons … now I’m sure you know them Padre. They live about a mile or so from us, just up the hill. I thought I’d introduced them to you some time ago. Not Catholics you know … but decent people all the same. Better than many Catholics I know, I should say! Anyway … dash it all … they’ve decided to spend Boxing Day with the in-laws. Now what kind of nonsense is that? I tell you … Who’d wish to spend Boxing Day with the in-laws? It’s just like being in Purgatory I imagine … what?”

Father Ignatius smiled once more at Theodore’s continuous rant and wondered what all this was leading to … and then it came.

“Well Padre … as neither of them can make it tonight, I thought of you. Would you care to join us for a quiet spot of dinner this evening? We’re having a goose and Brussels sprouts you know … traditional fare for this time of year sprouts … and I’ll be playing the latest musical instrument I’ve mastered … the harmonica … much less stressful than the bagpipes. I can now play Chopin’s piano concerto on the harmonica as well as the pipes!”

The priest was amused at being the third choice as guest at the millionaire’s luxurious mansion in the country, but he knew that Theodore meant no malice by it.

“It’s so nice of you to think of me …” he said quietly, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline too. The problem is that this evening St Vincent’s Church hosts the annual Christmas Dinner and get-together for the old folks of the Parish. We bring them to the Church Center and Father Donald and I and a few of the nuns from the Convent prepare a Christmas meal …”

“Bring them along too …” interrupted Theodore with no hesitation, “we’ll make a party of it … we’ve plenty of room over here …”

Father Ignatius knew that there was little point resisting Theodore’s generosity and enthusiasm; so plans were hurriedly changed to reschedule the venue of the Parish Christmas Dinner to the mansion on the hill.

And so it was that about fifty people including the nuns from the Convent went to the millionaire’s house to enjoy Theodore’s and his wife’s genuine kindness. They all gathered in the grand dining room which had been festively decorated at short notice where they enjoyed the best food and drinks sumptuously prepared by the catering staff.

Theodore dressed up like Father Christmas to give each guest a gift and then he entertained them with a sing-along which featured him playing his repertoire of the classics re-arranged for the harmonica!

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A Guinea Christmas

A couple of days ago I was invited at my boss's house out in the country for "a little bite to eat and a festive drink", as he called it.

He lives in one of those big mansions that posh people have, you know, just like the one where Theodore Luxton-Joyce lives.

He had invited a number of people from work as well as a few of his friends and golf-playing pals and a number of people from his gentleman's club. It was mainly a stand-up affair where everyone stands in this large room mingling and talking whilst a multitude of waitresses come round offering you hors d'oeuvres, canapes and small little bites you would not give your dog; and a number of waiters offer you various drinks, mainly alcoholic rather than a good pint of lemonade, or a cup of tea.

Anyway, I had been invited and it was not the kind of invitation you would turn down. More a three-line whip as they say in political circles. 

As it happens, just before I set off from my office I got a phone call: "Could you pick up Bertie the guinea pig from the vet please? ... Please ... Pretty please ... We'll be ever so grateful for the rest of the year ... All twenty or so days that are left ... Please!!!"

Why can't they pick up their own stupid pets? Anyway, at the vets the nurse said that Bertie was still a little sleepy from the anaesthetic and will be so for the rest of the day. Have I got his little carrying cage?

Have I heck? I said yes and took the little creature and put him in my brief case to keep him warm.

At the party, whilst everyone was mingling and being ever so polite and upper-class, don't you know, what? Jolly good old chap. And all that. Someone noticed my sleeping Bertie walk along the wall. He must have woken up and got out of my case when I went to fetch the Marketing Report for my boss and forgot to close the case again. 

Now normally, any sane person would have said there's a guinea pig about.

Just point at the creature and say: "By Jove, there's a most magnificent specimen of the guinea pig variety, don't you know ... what?" Now isn't that something you have often said at parties?

But NOOOO. On this occasion some idiot from the golf club said: "There's a rat here, a damn big rat!"

"A rat?"

"Yes ... a rat!"

"Where?"

"Over there!"

"Where over there?"

"It was there. He's now gone over there I think ..."

"A big fat ugly rat ..."

"It's now ran over there ... look out ... he might bite!"

"Rats carry the platonic plague, you know ..."

"Yes, it's in their teeth. One bite and you're a gonna!"

"I don't want it to tear my 15 Denier nylon stockings ..."

"Don't be silly, man. Why are you wearing nylon stockings anyway?"

"Because I couldn't buy nylon tights to fit me!"

"Over there ... I've seen the rat over there ... it's big and furry ..."

Pretty soon there was pandemonium in that room. My boss's wife was mortified as well as mummified at the thought of having rodents in her house. 

"We don't have rats in this house, have we Luis?" she asked her husband.

"No ... there's quite a few at work though ..." he replied referring to his employees.

Everyone was running here there and everywhere in no particular direction trying to avoid and escape a non-existent rat who happened to be my sleeping Bertie taking a walk. 

Women, including the waitresses in their mini skirts, suddenly jumped on top of chairs, sofas, armchairs or whatever furniture of height, like the table at the end of the room, and held their skirts and dresses up high showing off their un-mentionables.

What is it with you ladies? What is the point of standing on a chair with your skirt held up high? Do you think the rat, or any other creature, would climb up your legs? The very sight of you screaming would most probably send him to apoplexy. 

I noticed there was even a wimp of a man standing on a chair and holding tight to a young waitress. On second thoughts, maybe he was taking advantage of the situation.

The butler came in with an assistant and tried to find the rat and kill it with a heavy shovel in his hand.

Luckily, I noticed Bertie cowering in the corner just by the grand-father clock. I quickly bent down, picked him up and put him in my trouser pocket. The stupid animal thanked me for saving him from certain death by biting my finger. He then proceeded to tumble and somersault in my pocket in a most embarrassing display which I wouldn't want you to imagine right now!!!

Luckily, no one saw him or his acrobatics in my trouser pocket. And the rat was not found or seen ever again.

The party continued in a most subdued manner, and I noticed no one was eating the hors d'oeuvres.

Theodore Luxton-Joyce

Father Ignatius and Father Donald welcomed a visiting Franciscan priest, Father Randolph, to the Parish for the weekend to lead the Marriage Renewal Seminar.

The Seminar was held on the grounds of the Parish Gardens providing plenty of time for the participants to spend time together re-assessing their married life, in preparation for a Renewal of Vows Ceremony to be held after Mass on Saturday evening.

The two Parish priests were pleased that they managed to get twenty married couples to attend the weekend event and looked forward to a successful Seminar for all involved.

The same cannot be said however for Theodore Luxton-Joyce, the eccentric friend of Father Ignatius and very generous benefactor of St Vincent Church.

Theodore preferred to be well away from “organized love-ins”, as he called the Seminar and would not have attended for one moment had he the choice. But his lovely wife, Rose, convinced him otherwise and he, being an old romantic, albeit he hid it well, acquiesced to her request.

After lunch on Saturday the group met at the Church Hall and was addressed by Father Randolph.

He spoke about the necessity of working at a marriage to make it successful, and explained how very often couples tend to drift apart because of the pressures of modern living and having to work hard just to keep body and soul together. He went on to stress the importance of “being aware of the other person in your life”, the importance of “listening” to their feelings, and “showing love” by saying something nice every now and then, by holding hands, giving a hug every so often and not taking one’s spouse for granted.

“Love doesn’t end after the honeymoon” declared Father Randolph, “it’s a precious flower which needs nurturing and feeding every day if it is to flourish for a lifetime!”

At this point Father Randolph noted Theodore Luxton-Joyce raising his eyebrows and looking in the distance out of the window, no doubt wishing he was anywhere else but here.

“What do you think Theodore?” asked the visiting priest, “Do you think it’s important to tell your wife, Rose, that you love her?”

“Every day?” asked Theodore.

The Group laughed and Fathers Ignatius and Donald, sitting at the top table, looked at each other silently.

“Yes … every day … why not?” continued the Franciscan priest after the laughter died down.

“I don’t see the point …” replied Theodore, “Rose knows that I love her very much … (then looking at his wife) … you do know that don’t you?

“What’s the point of all this adolescent childish talk … it goes without saying that I love her … what?

“I wouldn’t have given up a weekend of good fishing and come here, if I didn’t love her … don’t you think old boy?”

The Group laughed again.

“Fifteen – love …” Father Donald whispered quietly to Father Ignatius.

But Father Randolph was not to be beaten so easily.

“No … it does not go without saying …” he responded quietly, “it is important to tell your wife, or husband, that you love them. That they are not taken for granted. It is important to say it … and say it often. It’s important to be nice and to compliment one’s spouse every now and then.

“Very often I’ve seen couples drift apart yet deep down they do really love each other. They just don’t bother, or don’t have time, to say it. With time, they forget what first attracted them to each other. And every time we forget … love dies a little!

“Let me challenge you Theodore if I may …”

“Fifteen all …” Father Donald whispered softly under his breath. “A good return from the visiting priest!” Father Ignatius sat quietly and said nothing.

“I want you to answer quickly without thinking,” Father Randolph challenged Theodore. “Are you ready? Without thinking … what first attracted you to your wife Rose?”

“She makes a decent steak and kidney pie … what?” declared Theodore.

The Group broke down into hysterics.

“Thirty – fifteen to your eccentric friend!” Father Donald said to his colleague Father Ignatius.

Father Randolph was astute enough to continue with his talk rather than get into a pointless debate with Theodore. Minutes later he asked the Group whether anyone had personal knowledge or experience of marriages breaking down after a long period together. He called them “mature divorces”.

Theodore raised his hand.

“I bet you regret inviting him …” Father Donald whispered to Father Ignatius.

“Years ago … when I was in the military, one of my people got divorced after twenty years of marriage …” said Theodore.

“I asked him why … and he said his wife was violent what? Apparently she threw things at him in an argument … Anything … Cups … saucers … cutlery … crockery … anything that came to hand.

“Turns out she threw things at him throughout the marriage … twenty years of it.

“I asked him why he took so long to decide to leave her.

“He said her aim was getting better … what?”

The Group burst into laughter to the embarrassment of Rose, whilst Father Randolph tactfully decided to call a short tea break.

“Game … set … and match!” declared Father Donald as he got up from his seat.

The rest of the weekend proceeded without further difficulties for Father Randolph, albeit Theodore was the most popular member of the Group.

As they drove back home he asked his wife, “You don’t think it necessary to say ‘I love you’ every day … do you?”

“It’s nice to hear it every now and then…” she said, “It’s reassuring you know. Women like reassurance!”

“Tell you what old girl …” he replied, “I’ll write it down big on a piece of paper. You can read it as often as you want when you need reassurance … what?” he chortled heartily.

She smiled; knowing full well that he was the world’s biggest romantic, yet his up-bringing did not allow him to show it.

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A Guinea Christmas

A couple of days ago I was invited at my boss's house out in the country for "a little bite to eat and a festive drink", as he called it.

He lives in one of those big mansions that posh people have, you know, just like the one where Theodore Luxton-Joyce lives.

He had invited a number of people from work as well as a few of his friends and golf-playing pals and a number of people from his gentleman's club. It was mainly a stand-up affair where everyone stands in this large room mingling and talking whilst a multitude of waitresses come round offering you hors d'oeuvres, canapes and small little bites you would not give your dog; and a number of waiters offer you various drinks, mainly alcoholic rather than a good pint of lemonade, or a cup of tea.

Anyway, I had been invited and it was not the kind of invitation you would turn down. More a three-line whip as they say in political circles. 

As it happens, just before I set off from my office I got a phone call: "Could you pick up Bertie the guinea pig from the vet please? ... Please ... Pretty please ... We'll be ever so grateful for the rest of the year ... All twenty or so days that are left ... Please!!!"

Why can't they pick up their own stupid pets? Anyway, at the vets the nurse said that Bertie was still a little sleepy from the anaesthetic and will be so for the rest of the day. Have I got his little carrying cage?

Have I heck? I said yes and took the little creature and put him in my brief case to keep him warm.

At the party, whilst everyone was mingling and being ever so polite and upper-class, don't you know, what? Jolly good old chap. And all that. Someone noticed my sleeping Bertie walk along the wall. He must have woken up and got out of my case when I went to fetch the Marketing Report for my boss and forgot to close the case again. 

Now normally, any sane person would have said there's a guinea pig about.

Just point at the creature and say: "By Jove, there's a most magnificent specimen of the guinea pig variety, don't you know ... what?" Now isn't that something you have often said at parties?

But NOOOO. On this occasion some idiot from the golf club said: "There's a rat here, a damn big rat!"

"A rat?"

"Yes ... a rat!"

"Where?"

"Over there!"

"Where over there?"

"It was there. He's now gone over there I think ..."

"A big fat ugly rat ..."

"It's now ran over there ... look out ... he might bite!"

"Rats carry the platonic plague, you know ..."

"Yes, it's in their teeth. One bite and you're a gonna!"

"I don't want it to tear my 15 Denier nylon stockings ..."

"Don't be silly, man. Why are you wearing nylon stockings anyway?"

"Because I couldn't buy nylon tights to fit me!"

"Over there ... I've seen the rat over there ... it's big and furry ..."

Pretty soon there was pandemonium in that room. My boss's wife was mortified as well as mummified at the thought of having rodents in her house. 

"We don't have rats in this house, have we Luis?" she asked her husband.

"No ... there's quite a few at work though ..." he replied referring to his employees.

Everyone was running here there and everywhere in no particular direction trying to avoid and escape a non-existent rat who happened to be my sleeping Bertie taking a walk. 

Women, including the waitresses in their mini skirts, suddenly jumped on top of chairs, sofas, armchairs or whatever furniture of height, like the table at the end of the room, and held their skirts and dresses up high showing off their un-mentionables.

What is it with you ladies? What is the point of standing on a chair with your skirt held up high? Do you think the rat, or any other creature, would climb up your legs? The very sight of you screaming would most probably send him to apoplexy. 

I noticed there was even a wimp of a man standing on a chair and holding tight to a young waitress. On second thoughts, maybe he was taking advantage of the situation.

The butler came in with an assistant and tried to find the rat and kill it with a heavy shovel in his hand.

Luckily, I noticed Bertie cowering in the corner just by the grand-father clock. I quickly bent down, picked him up and put him in my trouser pocket. The stupid animal thanked me for saving him from certain death by biting my finger. He then proceeded to tumble and somersault in my pocket in a most embarrassing display which I wouldn't want you to imagine right now!!!

Luckily, no one saw him or his acrobatics in my trouser pocket. And the rat was not found or seen ever again.

The party continued in a most subdued manner, and I noticed no one was eating the hors d'oeuvres.

THEODORE LUXTON-JOYCE

THEODORE LUXTON-JOYCE – THE LOVEABLE ECCENTRIC

ISBN 9 781539 885795

By Victor S E Moubarak

Theodore Luxton-Joyce is a lovable English eccentric from Scottish descent who lives in a world of his own. His every thought and action are motivated by genuine kindness and generosity, yet although he gives the impression that he doesn’t think things through properly, the reality is that he thinks them through all right but he does so somewhat late, with humorous consequences for those around him. This book contains a selection of short stories about Theodore Luxton-Joyce, a man born at a time when the world was a different place altogether.

A gentle humourous book with a Christian message. An ideal Christmas gift for a relative or a friend, or just for you. 

You can obtain your copy in paperback or in Kindle (different front cover) from HERE (paperback) and HERE (Kindle).

All other books by Victor S E Moubarak available HERE.

The Millionaire

Theodore Luxton-Joyce was a millionaire widower. He inherited wealth from his father Lord Joyce and he lived in a mansion on the edge of town in beautiful countryside surroundings. He drove a very old classic car which he prized above all else – or so it seemed, and he always wore a three-piece suit made of heavy woolen cloth and a Sherlock Holmes type hat. He carried an expensive gold watch in a small pocket in his vest with a gold chain leading up to a button hole to which it was attached.

He had a thick white toothbrush moustache punctuating a clean shaven thick set jaw and square face.

He often carried a walking stick with a silver plated lion’s head for a handle. It was just for effect of course, he being a fit and truly handsome sixty year old gentleman.

He was certainly quite a sight around town in his luxury old automobile, his attire and walking stick, not to mention of course his perfect English accent no doubt taught him in the best private schools.

He was often teased by people saying he’d been born in the wrong age; and he’d fit better in Victorian times or thereabouts. He’d chuckle heartily and say “And what grand times they were for England … I’d certainly would have improved them by my mere presence …”

Perhaps he didn’t know it, but he was a real romantic at heart, not that he would admit it to anyone of course. It would probably ruin his image, he thought, as the tough talking lord of the manor with no time for such nonsense.

Deep down, however, he was a kind and gentle man and had never forgotten his beloved departed wife. He prayed for her, as best he could, and often asked Father Ignatius to celebrate Mass for the repose of her soul; on her birthday, their wedding day and on the anniversary of her death.

But secretly of course … he never announced the Mass intention in the Church’s Newsletter as was customary in St Vincent Parish. The Mass, always on a Sunday, would be posted in the Newsletter as “Private Intention” and he’d attend and sit on the front pew, and wink gently at Father Ignatius as he came out of the Sacristy and on to the Altar.

One evening Father Ignatius visited Theodore in his mansion, at the man’s invitation, for a private chat.

Father Ignatius was rather intrigued as he waited in the large library filled with books which had never been opened or read for ages. He’d never visited the mansion before, and from what he had seen so far, he understood why people suggested Theodore was born in the wrong age. He’d only been there for half-an-hour and he’d already met the gardener busily pruning the prize rose bushes, the butler who opened the front door and the maid who brought him tea served in the best porcelain and expensive biscuits which you would certainly not find at the supermarket!

Theodore claimed he lived alone, which is strictly true, if you don’t count the live-in entourage of staff to look after the house and surrounding land.

Moments later the butler opened the door and in came Theodore. He was wearing bright red tartan trousers, a dark blue open-necked shirt and a large cravat round his neck held together by a red jewel on a ring, and a navy blue blazer with the initials TLJ embroidered in gold on the lapel.

Father Ignatius did not flinch a muscle, but smiled silently deep within his soul.

“How nice of you to agree to meet me …” said Theodore, as the butler left the room closing the door behind him, “I’d like a private chat if I may … one cannot be seen visiting you in Church you understand!”

“I understand …” said the priest sitting down again.

“Jolly good … but first let me offer you something stronger than Darjeeling tea … I have the finest selection of single malt whisky … or a glass of vintage wine if you prefer …”

Father Ignatius preferred to continue with the pot of tea, whilst Theodore helped himself to some wine.

“Well …” he hesitated, “I’d like your opinion on certain delicate matters … you being such a knowledgeable individual and all that …”

The priest smiled feebly.

“It’s about my dear wife …” he hesitated again, “I really miss her … do you think she’s in Heaven?”

“I would say so …” replied the priest hesitating in turn and wondering where this was leading to, “she was a good person, and I was there in hospital administering the last Sacraments when she died … so I would say the angels were with her that night …”

“Jolly good … jolly good …” repeated Theodore as he sipped a little wine, “I really miss her … as I said … terrible thing her dying so quickly after such a short illness …”

“I understand …” repeated the priest still confused about this conversation.

“How long is it decent to mourn for someone’s death … do you think?” asked Theodore abruptly.

“Well …” Father Ignatius was taken aback by the question, “there’s no set period of decency as such … different people deal with death in their own way and in their own time. Matilda died six years ago if I remember right …”

“You remember too damn right …” interrupted Theodore, “pardon my language Father … and not a day passes by without me thinking about her and hoping she’d be with me here …”

The priest said nothing and put his cup down on the table.

“Is it right for an old man like me to be in love?” he asked, “I am 60 you know …”

“There is no set age to be in love …” continued the priest gently as he was interrupted once again.

“The thing is … I love my wife … I love her dearly believe me … But …” he hesitated once again, and the priest said nothing, now totally baffled at what was going on here.

“Ok … let’s get to the point …” Theodore blurted out putting down his glass of wine, “the thing is I have needed an accountant for the last six months or so. I don’t have a head for figures and all that … it is all Greek to me … yet the tax people want the accounts properly audited and all that … sheer nonsense I say … so I spoke to my solicitors … you probably know them … Sterling Cash and Banks in the High Street …”

The priest nodded silently, now totally overcome with confusion at what Theodore was leading to.

“Anyway …” said Theodore, “the solicitors put me in touch with this accountant … Geraldine Leamington … a lovely young lady of thirty odd years … she’s very competent you know … if ever you want an accountant to do the Sunday collection for you …

“Anyway … as I said … Geraldine has been coming here for at least six months now … she’s like a magician you know … she went through those figures like a hot knife through butter … she checked the books for the past six years … I’d made a right mess of them apparently … all Greek to me as I say …

“Ha ha …” he laughed heartily pouring himself another glass of wine, “turns out I’d made such a pig’s ear of the accounts that the tax man apparently owes me money … I’ve been overpaying for years … she managed to claim back a tidy sum I tell you … I received the check from the tax man last week …

“You don’t need her to count the Sunday collection do you?”

“No thanks …” mumbled Father Ignatius politely.

“Back to business …” continued Theodore, “the thing is … she’s been coming here for six months or so and we got to know each other and her family … and, not to put too fine a point on it, I’ve fallen in love again and wish to get married … is that all right do you think?”

“You wish to marry the young lady?” asked the priest cautiously.

“Of course not …” said Theodore getting a little red in the face, “what do you think I am? She is half my age you know … wouldn’t have the energy old boy …

“No … you’re way off beam Padre … I wish to marry her mother. She’s a widow … about my age … fifty-nine actually … but don’t tell her I told you. Women you know … they never reveal their age apparently …

“I’ve been meeting Geraldine’s mother in secret for a while … we meet in the Grand Hotel for tea … do you know it … in the High Street.

“We get on rather well … but I’m not so sure about love at my age … is it possible? And is it OK to marry again? Will my dear wife understand?”

Father Ignatius asked for a drop of vintage whisky to calm his nerves a little.

The wedding is scheduled in four months time at St Vincent Church with Father Ignatius officiating.

Theodore has still to decide on what music will be played in church on that day. Father Ignatius suggested that he leaves all decisions to his bride to be … at least then matters would be organized in time!

You can download the book "Theodore Luxton Joyce - Lovable Eccentric" FREE - yes FREE from HERE 

Read more about Theodore's wedding HERE

CHRISTMAS AT THEODORE’S

It had been a busy year for Theodore Luxton-Joyce, the lovable eccentric millionaire businessman, and he hadn’t been in touch with Father Ignatius for some time. So it was a surprise for  the priest when the phone rang early on Boxing Day, the day just after Christmas, and he heard the familiar voice.

“Is that yourself Padre?” asked Theodore in his well pronounced posh English accent.

“Yes … it is. Merry Christmas Theodore to you and your lovely wife Rose …”

“Yes quite … jolly good … what?” interrupted Theodore, “I was somewhat concerned at getting that other French priest on the phone. You know the one … you’ve had him visiting lately …”
 
“Yes … Father Gaston. He has gone back to Paris”.

"Jolly good I say … what? Never liked the French … Father Gaston being an exception of course … he was rather quiet and said very little … just as I like the French to be … what?”

Father Ignatius smiled and said nothing whilst Theodore continued totally unaware of what he was saying.

“Right … now that I’ve got you on the phone rather than that French fellow, I need you urgently to help me out! Terrible spot of bother … old boy … terrible I say!”

 
The priest frowned fearing the worst. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“Well … Rose and I had arranged a quiet after Christmas get-together for this evening and we’d invited the Mortimers … you know them? He’s a businessman working in the US most of the time. Very nice fellow and his wife too. Jolly pleasant both! But of course you don’t know the Mortimers. I've never introduced you to them.

"Have you ever been to America Padre? I’m sure the Vatican has opened a few Branches over there. Nice place America; I've visited often. America that is. Not the Catholic outlets over there.
 

“Anyway … as I was saying ... back to the Mortimers. They’re over here right now for a few days … visiting family … that sort of thing. Rose and I thought we’d invite them for a spot of dinner this evening. Disaster old boy! Disaster I tell you!”

 

Father Ignatius smiled again.

 
“Well, as it happens …” continued Theodore never stopping to pause for breath, “the Mortimers can’t make it tonight. Jolly bad show don’t you think? We’ve got most of the food prepared and all … well, Mrs Frosdick, the cook, and her staff have everything prepared anyway. And the Mortimers can’t make it for dinner. They’re stuck up North because of the terrible snow storms we’ve been having over Christmas. Totally snowed in and cut off from civilization and a decent drop of whisky I shouldn’t wonder! Terrible being without whisky at Christmas; or at any other time, I'd say!
 
“So I thought of inviting the Hendersons … now I’m sure you know them Padre. They live about a mile or so from us, just up the hill. I thought I’d introduced them to you some time ago. Not Catholics you know … but decent people all the same. Better than many Catholics I know, I should say! Anyway … dash it all … they’ve decided to spend Boxing Day with the in-laws. Now what kind of nonsense is that? I tell you. Who’d wish to spend Boxing Day with the in-laws? It’s just like being in Purgatory I imagine … what?”
 
Father Ignatius smiled once more at Theodore’s continuous rant and wondered what all this was leading to … and then it came.

 “Well Padre … as neither of them can make it tonight, I thought of you. Would you care to join us for a quiet spot of dinner this evening? We’re having a goose and Brussels sprouts you know … traditional fare for this time of year sprouts … and I’ll be playing the latest musical instrument I’ve mastered … the harmonica … much less stressful than the bagpipes. I can now play Chopin’s piano concerto on the harmonica as well as the pipes!”

 

The priest was amused at being the third choice as guest at the millionaire’s luxurious mansion in the country, but he knew that Theodore meant no malice by it.

“It’s so nice of you to think of me …” he said quietly, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline too. The problem is that this evening St Vincent’s Church hosts the annual Christmas Dinner and get-together for the old folks of the Parish. We bring them to the Church Center and Father Donald and I and a few of the nuns from the Convent prepare a Christmas meal …”

“Bring them along too …” interrupted Theodore with no hesitation, “we’ll make a party of it … we’ve plenty of room over here …”

 
Father Ignatius knew that there was little point resisting Theodore’s generosity and enthusiasm; so plans were hurriedly changed to reschedule the venue of the Parish Christmas Dinner to the mansion on the hill.

 

And so it was that about fifty people including the nuns from the Convent went to the millionaire’s house to enjoy Theodore’s and his wife’s genuine kindness. They all gathered in the grand dining room, which had been festively decorated at short notice, where they enjoyed the best food and drinks sumptuously prepared by the catering staff.

Theodore dressed up like Father Christmas to give each guest a gift and then he entertained them with a sing-along which featured him playing his repertoire of the classics re-arranged for the harmonica!

 

The following morning, Theodore Luxton-Joyce as eccentric as ever jumped into his car, despite the heavy Christmas snow making most roads impassable, and sped towards St Vincent Church.

Half an hour later he was in Father Ignatius’ office, having barged through Mrs Davenport, the housekeeper who opened the front door, mumbling about some emergency or other.

 
“Padre … we have a problem …” he exclaimed to the astounded priest sitting behind the desk, “I tried to phone you this morning but you were permanently engaged … I thought you were probably hearing some late Confessions from sinners who couldn’t make it to church because of the snow! Anyway … here I am. Got in the car and came over as quick as I could!”

“Sit down … take a deep breath. What is the problem?” asked Father Ignatius fearing the worst.

“I was in the library this morning … You know, the room annexed to the dining room where we had the old folk’s Christmas Dinner last night?”

 
The priest nodded.

“Well … just by the section where we have the books of Sir Walter Scott. You must have read him Padre! Scottish novelist, playwright and poet … you know … Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, The Heart of Midlothian and so on …

“Anyway … just by those books I found this beautiful gold necklace on the floor … what? Looks pretty expensive to me … must belong to one of the old ladies you invited to our Christmas party! Must have dropped it when they all went to the library for a spot of Darjeeling. The poor lady, whoever she is, must be beside herself having lost such a valuable piece … I’d say!”
 

Father Ignatius took the necklace from Theodore and said, “I’ll keep it in case someone phones and asks for it!”

“I’ll hear none of it …” interrupted Theodore, “the poor lady who lost it must be looking everywhere for it … under her bed … or behind the piano … or wherever old ladies hide their jewellery! We must get in touch with them all and ask them if they’ve lost this necklace!”

Father Ignatius looked up in disbelief. “There were about fifty old people there … most of them women … you’re not suggesting …”

Theodore was suggesting just that! And for the next hour or so they phoned most of the old ladies to find the owner of the necklace; with no success.

“Well that’s all of them … except these six who are not on the phone,” remarked the priest, “I’ll ask them when I next see them at Mass on Sunday!”

But Theodore’s concern would have none of it.

"I have the car out there …” he said, “why don’t we visit them right now? I also have a bottle of brandy in the car to keep us warm … always prepared what?”

 
Father Ignatius said a silent prayer in his mind seeking forgiveness for what he thought about Theodore right now. Then as a self-imposed penance he decided to accompany the eccentric millionaire on what would no doubt turn out to be a wild goose chase.

And a waste of time it certainly was. At every house Theodore insisted on accepting the invitation for tea and biscuits, or mince pies, or home made cake or whatever other delicacy the old ladies had prepared for Christmas. And at every house he regaled them all with stories about Sir Walter Scott and other Scottish writers and famous people, not forgetting to mention time and again his Highlands lineage and the fact that he could play Chopin’s piano concerto on the bagpipes!

“Where does he put all this tea?” thought the weary priest to himself, “and he hasn’t been to the toilet once!”

Eventually they returned to Father Ignatius’ office at the Parish House both very cold, dejected and exhausted.

“You don’t think we can have a drop of tea to keep us warm?” asked Theodore to Mrs Davenport as she came in to collect the empty cups from this morning.

Father Ignatius held the gold necklace in his hand and admired it pensively.

“You don’t think it belongs to one of the nuns who came to the party?” asked Theodore rather stupidly, “do nuns wear necklaces under their habits Padre?”

The priest smiled and shook his head. “It’s a beautiful necklace with a lovely little rose here in the middle …” he said, “You don’t suppose it belongs to your wife … Rose?”

 
“Dash it all …” cried out Theodore standing up from his seat, “I forgot all about Rose! That little flower on the necklace should have reminded me …
 
“I bought that necklace six months ago for Rose’s birthday in January. I hid it in Sir Walter Scott’s book Rob Roy, which I was reading at the time. I thought no one would find it there … no one ever reads the books in that library … what? The necklace must have fallen out yesterday when someone picked up the books.
 
“I’d forgotten all about it … and for the past three weeks I’ve been wondering what to buy Rose for her birthday next month. I got her a bracelet … I know that for sure … the thing is I don’t know where I’ve hidden it …old boy!”

Father Ignatius sought forgiveness from the Lord once again for what was going through his mind.

He gave the necklace back to Theodore and followed his enthusiastic rush to the car and waived him goodbye as he sped back to his mansion on the hill.

More stories about Theodore in the FREE downloadable E Book HERE