What Manner of Man: Chapter ? 🦇

Happy birthday, Victor!

SUMMARY: No chapter this week (too sick to edit.) Instead — a silly story celebrating Father Ardelian’s birthday.

Sorry everyone, I’m afraid I’ve been just too sick this week to finish the changes that still need to be made to Chapter 18. 🤒 I considered publishing it as-is, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. This is a key part of the novel and I’d hate to give it less than my best.

However! I have not been too sick to write some silly nonsense. This past Wednesday, the 21st, was not only the summer solstice, but also the birth date that I put down for Father Ardelian at some point early on in writing this novel.

So — here's what I figured. Since he's not going to have much opportunity to celebrate anytime soon at this point in the story, I decided to drop the characters into a non-canonical realm where they can be temporarily relieved of the necessities / constraints of plot, genre, time, space, etc. Needless to say, the result is utterly puerile. You should all pelt me with oranges.

(Thank you for your all your kind patience and I hope you enjoy the following nonsense. 💝)

JOURNAL ENTRY

Dated June 21, [???]

This afternoon, as I made my way through St Silvan’s Head (where I am right now, naturally,) I found the streets strangely deserted. I was in a melancholy mood, regretting — rather childishly — that everyone seemed to have forgotten this was my birthday. My destination was the boathouse by the cottage, where I had an appointment to keep with Danny.

Passing from the bright afternoon sunlight into the cool shade of the boathouse, I was momentarily blind and I blinked as I strained to make out shapes in the dark. It seemed to me that something was different about the place.

All at once, the entire space was flooded with light as a chorus of voices cried out in unison —

“Surprise!”

Practically all of St Silvan’s Head was there (the boathouse seemed to have grown strangely spacious since I had been in it last.) Danny and Sylvia rushed forward to meet me with open arms. They were all wearing colourful paper hats, one of which was bestowed upon me as I stepped forward into the room. I was embarrassed to feel the sting of tears and hastily wiped my eyes.

The whole space had been beautifully arranged; I later learned that Danny had spent all the morning setting it up. All the boats and their paraphernalia had been cleared away, leaving a wide, open space in which had been set laid out for a party with picnic tables, a dance floor, and also a really enormous cake.

I marvelled at this last — considering the difficulty of procuring such an absurdly oversized cake in so remote and isolated a fishing village, (possessing no enormous ovens that I knew of.)

Before I had a chance to remark upon the cake, Silas arrived with a young man who I didn’t recognize — a friend of his, he said, who he’d brought from the mainland. He also brought a music player of anachronistic design and soon began to play a Bonnie Tyler song — “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Looking around the room, I could not help but feel saddened to see that Lord Vane was not present among the guests. No doubt he was too busy (sailing, tending his indoor garden, brooding importantly, etc.) to attend such a frivolous gathering.

Soon, everyone had gathered around the absurdly large cake (exchanging some conspiratorial glances, I thought) and began to sing “Happy Birthday.”

Imagine my surprise when, all of a sudden, with a sound of tearing paper (the cake proved merely a paper facade) Lord Vane jumped out!

I blushed furiously to see that he was wearing nothing but a gold speedo and matching sash which read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY VICTOR” — (yet, somehow, all while remaining completely dignified.) In his hands he held a second, more reasonably-sized cake.

For a period of time, everyone mingled and ate snacks as Silas played another Bonnie Tyler song, “Holding out for a Hero” — a song which I’ve always had a particular affinity for, despite this being the year 1950.

Lord Vane had excused himself shortly after completing his emergence from the paper cake and he soon returned wearing — to my immense relief (and, to a lesser extent, disappointment) — a more complete ensemble.

I was very touched by the effort everyone had gone to. Sylvia had provided a punchbowl filled with a sweet, sparkling beverage which everyone partook of liberally and I soon found myself carried away by the fun of the party. I acquiesced to Lord Vane’s request that I dance with him, and I found him as accomplished at this as he seems at every other pastime — though I believe his behaviour during some of the slower songs was highly improper. Danny drank a little too much of Sylvia’s punch and challenged Silas to a fencing match. Everyone had a marvellous time.

Towards the end of evening, when everyone had begun to grow tired of dancing, (and we'd exhausted the playlist of eighties music) we betook ourselves outside to watch the sunset. By this time the party had narrowed to primarily those who were named characters or their very close friends.

Silas produced some peculiar, herbal-smelling, hand-rolled cigarettes. We had a very pleasant time — lying on the grassy slope beside the cottage as the sun sank low over the surface of the lake. We shared glasses of some wine that Lord Vane had provided and passed a few of Silas's cigarettes between ourselves as we watched the dying light paint the sky shades of amber and coral. I have rarely felt so completely contented.

Thank you again for your patience — and thank you, especially, to my beloved patrons, for continuing to make What Manner of Man possible. 🙏 (There is a new vignette for supporters of Accomplice tier and above!)

-St John