The Woman who Loved an Octopus and other Saint's Tales Read Online Free

black and silver and blue, greater than anything we can imagine.
    I prayed, and I listened, and I was filled with joy.

    â€˜There she is,’ the shepherd said the next morning. It was very early, the air sharp and cold, not long after sunrise, the grass still wet with dew. I was on my way to chapel. He whistled to his dog, then moved his head to indicate a figure walking towards the chapel. ‘Another believer, by the look of it. You’re going to meet her now. I would have thought it was you, if it hadn’t been for the clothes!’
    I looked.
    There was a woman; not young, and stockily built, her grey hair pulled back into a plait. She wore a long skirt of brightly coloured material, red and orange and purple; some ethnic jacket. She walked, head bowed, with measured strides. The thought came to me that she was trying to look like her idea of a devout person.
    Another believer, indeed. A tree-hugger, more likely.
    I gave her a nod when I entered the chapel, and was relieved when she just returned my greeting without attempting to talk.

    â€˜I hear you’re spending all summer here,’ she said after the service, when we were walking away from the chapel. Her earrings jingled as she walked.
    I nodded.
    â€˜I’d love to go on a real retreat.’ Her voice sounded wistful. ‘I went for a week last year, a Buddhist retreat near St David’s; only a week is not the same, is it? I just haven’t got the time. Or the money.’
    â€˜Then make time,’ I said, breaking my silence. ‘For God. What could be more important?’
    â€˜The Goddess is in all of us,’ she replied. It sounded like something she had learnt by heart. ‘Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She is there for us.’
    I said nothing.
    She sighed. ‘And some of us have to earn a living.’
    I inclined my head; the gesture saying as well as any words could, that the birds of the air neither sow nor reap, and yet God feeds them.
    We arrived at the fork in the road. I gave her a nod and went on my way, towards the house for breakfast and then the mountain and the hermit’s cave.
    The sky arched over the island, its brilliance singing in my eyes. The sunlight dazzled me. I took a breath and tasted beauty on my tongue. I was wrapped in the blue of the Virgin’s mantle. Even when I closed my eyes I saw nothing but blue. I gave praise to God. I closed my eyes and I opened my ears, and I prayed.
    I prayed, and I listened. But my ears were not opened. I sat and I prayed and I felt like a vessel stoppered up, so that nothing will go in and nothing come out. I sat with my eyes closed and my hands folded in my lap, and I called upon God to open up my ears, but He did not answer. I sat and I prayed, and when I opened my eyes the air was flooded with gold and copper and the sky streaked with green and blue and yellow, and it was evening.
    A road of light stretched from where I was sitting: it went across the waters of the Sound to the mountains of the mainland, wound itself round the hills. I closed my eyes and opened them again, but not before I had seen two figures walking on the road of light, walking away towards the mainland.
    I shook my head like a dog just out of the water.
    Now all I could see was the sunset.
    There was a chill in the air. I got up. Time for evening service.
    She was there again, but this time she did not try to talk to me. We prayed together, and afterwards walked home in silence. She smiled good night as we reached the fork in the road; nodded, and was gone.

    The waves breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. I blew out my candle and went to bed.

    There was a voice in the dark, and it spoke to me. Follow the road I have laid down for you . I stood on a hill overlooking a valley and steeply rising mountains beyond. Ragged grey clouds moved swiftly across the sky. The air was cool and damp. Build my church here , the voice said.
    With that I woke up. The room