A "The room."

Prologue.

I suppose that St. Oswald's was very similar to any other rural church,
an old building, (usually on a hill) an average congregation of people,
mostly it could be said, were getting on a bit. I suppose that the
local populace, who didn't attend on a Sunday morning, had the usual
idea that the people who did, were simply there for insurance purposes.
Well maybe there is something in that, but what does it matter why one
goes to church? - But I digress.

The vicar calls the first hymn, the people stand and the organist
starts up, usually on a bum note! and proceeds to play a well known
hymn to a tune that nobody but the choir has heard of before. One can
always tell that others are having difficulty, because of slight turn
of heads and the slight nod in response. The bum notes by the way are
always blamed on the state of the organ, hence the ongoing organ
fund.

The choir always sings their hearts out and cannot be criticised; it is
not their faults that only one or two can sing, bless them for trying.
The service proceeds and the vicar rises to give his sermon. It usually
only takes a few seconds to realise the political affiliations of the
vicar, and then to listen to tales of "The walls of Jericho" or "The
tower of Babel". Why he is reluctant to talk about subjects that people
would be interested in I can never understand, but it wouldn't matter,
as most people are asleep anyway.

The Church committee and helpers are usually to the fore, and after the
service are usually huddled together in a corner like the corporation
from "The pied piper" i.e. not to be interfered with!

I suppose all rural churches have a "magazine" of some sort, and I
suppose they are all similar to St. Oswald's-- an opening predictable
page from the vicar, usually a couple of very silly poems, (but I have
to say far superior to a lot of modern poetry). Some daft quotes, and
usually an article by some idiot wanting to put the world to rights,
with a few adverts that nobody is interested in, and the obligatory
instruction for making "Jam tarts" or growing "Daisies".

Church magazine editors are usually retired teachers, and ours is
obviously asleep when it comes to editing the magazine, but I don't
suppose it matters though, because I suspect most of them [magazines]
go straight in the bin without being read. You will now realise I am
sure that St.Oswald's is just a normal country church probably quite
similar to all the others in the country, and maybe similar to
yours.

Now the scene is set, and what happened next is very strange!

I am sure you have realised that up to now this tale has been just a
little tongue in cheek, but I can assure you that it is now about to
become deadly serious.

THE STORY STARTS

I now have to take you back a number of years, to the time I became
involved. This particular Sunday morning after the service, I had just
had a quick coffee, and was trying to get out of church before somebody
collared me, however I wasn't quite fast enough! Why the vicar (I shall
now refer to him as Walter) decided to call after me was certainly
unusual, because he hadn't said anything to me apart from hello or
goodbye for ages. Maybe he had had no reason to. Walter was obviously
upset, and asked me if I would be kind enough to wait whilst the others
had gone, to discuss something with him. I wasn't in any particular
hurry, and although the old lad was a bit eccentric, I did quite like
him and so I agreed.

You probably are aware that many churches, maybe all of them have what
is referred to as a cold spot. St. Oswalds's was no exception, and I
think all were aware of its presence. When everybody had gone, Walter
took me to the space at the side of the vestry where our cold spot was
known to be. Covering this area was a large piece of oak trellis, which
had been part of the original altar screen; it had been there as long
as I could remember. Walter now told me that he had an idea that the
piece of oak could probably be worth a bit, and had contacted the local
joiners to see if they were interested.

The boss at the joiners had duly called round was delighted with his
find and made a generous donation to the church funds. It was during
this inspection that the trellis was moved away from the wall. The
joiners had not been to collected it yet, and Walter now asked me to
help him move it once more.

When the oak was away from the wall it was plain to see that the wall
had been plastered over, and an impression of a doorway was clearly
visible. You will be aware that any new plaster cannot hide original
access points, there is always an outline visible, however slight.
Walter had the idea that I would help him to investigate. I asked him
why he had chosen me. Walter had been doing some homework on me and
explained his reasons. They did have a little logic I suppose, but I
felt instinctively that I was the wrong person.

Elgar, was a large crossbred Alsation, (named after the composer) we
were not very often apart, and so I decided he should accompany me to
the church for our excavations. I tied him to the form outside the
church where he had been many times before, and he settled down.

Walter was waiting for me and was clearly keen to get started. I asked
him what he expected to find, and was he sure he wanted to continue.
Yes, he wanted to continue, and he had no idea what he would find, but
felt he had to go ahead. It was not difficult to chase the plaster away
and after about an hour a large wooden door was visible.

It was at this point that Elgar started to bark, and three gentlemen
from the church committee joined us. They had seen Walter and I talking
earlier, had seen my arrival with the dog, and obviously knew something
was afoot. We had no alternative but to tell them the story, and that's
how there came to be five of us there when we pushed the door
open.

Continued-----