Now I Know by Aidan Chambers Read Free Book Online

he says with relief.
    He picks up a large dog-eared vol. from a stool beside his chair. (Underneath the dog-eared vol. lies The Times folded at the crossword puzzle, mostly finished.)
    He flips dog-eared pages and says: The dictionary tells us, let’s see: Belief. Noun. One: a principle, idea, et cetera, accepted as true or real, especially without positive proof. Two: opinion, conviction. Three: religious faith. Four: trust or confidence, as in a person or person’s abilities , et cetera. There you are.
    Thumps book shut, replaces on top of The Times .
    Silence except for heavy breathing from Old Chum. Vic bends forward and pats him. Decomposing doggy pong rises like a gag.
    I gag. Cough. Try not to breathe. Fail. Say: Might need a bit more, if you wouldn’t mind. I mean, how does belief feel?
    Vic, looking startled, sits back in chair and says: Feel! Good lord! Can’t say one honestly feels anything. Rather . . . that is . . . one does not feel belief . . . one . . . accepts it.
    I stare at him. He toys with a pen lying on the stool at his side and stares at Old Chum. Old Chum pluffles in sleep.
    Selah.
    Vic is not a man in a hurry. Eventually looks up, smiles, says: Warned you it was a tricky subject. I don’t mean one doesn’t feel anything about one’s beliefs, only that one doesn’t feel belief.
    Silence. Stares at pen as he toys with it.
    Then goes on: One decides that God is, by and large, bad. days taken with good, more likely to be than not. This . . . one believes.
    Pause.
    STOCKSHOT :   Canst thou [Vic says] by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?
    He looks up at me. Says: If you understand me.
    Pause. I stare at him.
    Not quite, I say.
    Vic says: No, thought you mightn’t. He sighs (sounding so like Old Chum I wonder if Vic ventriloquizes the dog, or maybe even vice versa. Then also realize they look pretty much alike as well, except Vic doesn’t have the watery eyes yet). He slumps further into his puffy chair and his own bulgy waist.
    Silence again. Vic stares between his hillocky knees at Old Chum’s hillocky body for so long I think he’s forgotten me or eternity has begun without me noticing.
    But then he stirs himself, glances up, says: Look, er . . . Nik? What’s all this about? Thinking of asking for confirmation?
    I explain. He laughs. Quite revived, he seems for a minute. (Old Chum lifts his head at the sound of Vic’s laughter, takes a bleary glim, and flops, comatose again. The millennium is not yet.)
    Vic: How splendid! A reluctant Jesus in search of belief in himself! That does appeal, I must say!
    I’m laughing too, because it is pretty funny.
    Don’t be upset, says he, I’m not laughing at you, dear boy.
    (I love the dear boy bit.)
    I say: It’s okay. I think it’s a pretty stupid idea myself.
    Not at all, no no, says he. Then, perking up even more: You don’t happen to play goff, do you?
    Sorry? say I.
    Pity, says he. You know . . . Nik? . . . what I’d do if Our Lord walked through that door this minute? After the required pleasantries, of course.
    I shake my head.
    Vicsays: I’d say, My Lord, will you honour me with a round? And, you know, Nik, it has always seemed to me that He would reply, My dear vicar, I’d be delighted. Or words to that effect.
    I say: Maybe we can make that a scene in our film. (I’m only half joking, I realize as I say it.)
    You could, Vic says in all seriousness, do worse. Better than pretending to perform miracles. More likely. More real. More to do with belief, in fact.
    But, I say, how would you know he was Christ?
    Ah! says he, now there you have it, you see. That’s what belief is. I’d know because of believing. It doesn’t feel like anything. It’s just