Yes, Drain Minister

“Ah, Father. Come in, take a seat. I’m pleased to say your next assignment has arrived.”

The cardinal’s demeanour is, of course, beatific. He beams like a pumpkin perched upon a cone of poppy petals as he ushers me into his warmly furnished office. I feel obliged to ask the question before events proceed any further.

“Eminence, you must forgive me for being forthright, but... this wouldn’t be another drain job, would it?”

The benevolent smile does not waver. “As it happens...”

He must see my own face fall as I lower myself heavily into the chair before his desk.

“Young man,” he says, half encouraging, half reproachful as he manoeuvres back into his own seat. “You did accept the role of personal envoy specific to my capacity as Drain Minister, did you not? A highly prestigious and specialised position?”

It was technically true, but also true that I’d been bestowed with these new duties in a public forum without any of that time-consuming consultation business beforehand, following the cardinal’s ministerial appointment to tackle some of the more... specific exorcism requests.

“Besides,” he adds, eyebrows gambolling over half-moon specs like escaping sheep, “a fine opportunity for some time away from all this hustle and bustle. Just down the coast in Terracina – a beautiful part of the country. And home to a very pious lady sorely in need of the Church’s help.”

As if reminded, he begins rummaging around on his desk for the details. I close my eyes, praying for patience if mercy is out of the office today.

“Of course, Eminence, we must help the afflicted in any way we can. But... the lady is sure that this is the Devil’s work? She has pursued all other possibilities?”

He waves a hand. “Her second cousin is self-taught in plumbing and could find nothing. Her neighbours’ pipework is also presenting as untainted. So the lady has determined that an agent of the Great Beast is at large in her home, though she cannot fathom the reason, and who are we to say otherwise?”

If he is amused, he hides it with the skill of decades.

“Very well, Eminence.” I bow my head, resisting the temptation to slump fully forward onto his desk.

“Ah, boy, don’t look so down. Your reputation precedes you. Your success at liberating the famous kitchen of Signora Conti from demonic possession last month has become well known.”

“Eminence, that was the water board. Her neighbour at the trattoria had been emptying his deep fat fryer down the sink, and over time this built up into solid deposits of–”

“Yes indeed, we use whatever methods we must to disrupt Satan’s plan.” He whips a card triumphantly from a drawer and hands it to me, emblazoned with the address of our petitioner in Terracina. “I have no doubt you will prove equally resourceful in this affair.”

Personally I have no doubt I’ll end up calling the water board again. Still, a chauffeured trip down the sun-warmed coast? A better prospect than manhandling heavy cases of sanctified drain rods through the warrens of the inner city. Some people will try to steal anything. So I urge myself to embrace the novelty until I once again find myself kneeling in wet robes on a stranger’s bathroom floor, trying to make blessings stick to stagnant water and shouting incantations down a U-bend.

“I will leave at the earliest opportunity, Eminence.” I stand and bow, the necessary formal acceptance. “Given the urgency and the distance, I expect you have already assigned a car and driver...”

“No need, the buses are quite regular.” The cardinal also stands, seemingly keen to head off any further questions. “But as you have observed, my son, we must not dawdle. Go, flush out this malign spirit. Restore sanctity to the lady’s home and respectability to her name.”

He lays an avuncular hand on my shoulder as he glides by, which has the side-effect of propelling me towards the door. “Report back in a few days. Oh! And if you can,” he adds, “pay a visit to the cathedral up in the old town. Recently restored, I’m told. Wonderful frescoes.”

Which appears to be the end of today’s consultation as I find myself back in the corridor, enshrouded in silence but for the discreet click of the padded doors at my back.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turn to shuffle after the meek clerk who materialises to escort me out.

“Yes, Eminence,” I sigh. “Wonderful.”