My favourite Psalm

Psalm 139

New International Version (NIV)

For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.

¹ You have searched me, Lord,

    and you know me.

² You know when I sit and when I rise;

    you perceive my thoughts from afar.

³ You discern my going out and my lying down;

    you are familiar with all my ways.

⁴ Before a word is on my tongue

    you, Lord, know it completely.

⁵ You hem me in behind and before,

    and you lay your hand upon me.

⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

    too lofty for me to attain.

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts,^[a] God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
¹⁸ Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

¹⁹ If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
²⁰ They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.
²¹ Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
²² I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.
²³ Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴ See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

The next day (part 5)

“Come on, let’s go.” Delta stood up and motioned for Oscar to do likewise. “I’m taking you to Lady Amelia now. She’ll be able to explain better than me.” And she marched off towards the double doors. Oscar stood motionless for a moment, until Bristol said, “Go on then!”

In the lift, Delta pressed the number five. She was quiet, watching the numbers go up on the screen above the door. When the doors opened onto another pink corridor, she marched off to the left and Oscar hurried to keep up. At the end of the corridor, she knocked twice on a dark, wooden door and waited to hear “Enter” from within before opening the door.

The lady who was seated behind the desk looked a little taken aback when she saw Delta and Oscar appear at the door. She had clearly been writing and had stopped when she looked up, her pen still in her hand, now held up in the air, her elbow resting on the desk.

“Delta,” she said politely.

“Lady Amelia,” Delta said. “This is Oscar Thornton, who I was telling you about earlier.”

“About whom you were telling me,” Lady Amelia said, not unkindly. Delta gave a slight nod and ushered Oscar forward. Lady Amelia rose, set down her pen and came out from behind the desk to shake Oscar’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Oscar said nervously as he took Lady Amelia’s hand. It was cool but soft.

“Likewise,” Lady Amelia said. “Delta has told me a little about you, about how you met and why she brought you here. We thought it best that I explain where you are and what is going on. Delta, will you be joining us?”

“Um, no, I have things to be doing.”

“Very well. Oscar?” Lady Amelia indicated two armchairs in the corner of the room, to the right of the door, a small coffee table between them and a drinks cabinet behind. Oscar gave a little wave as Delta left, then joined Lady Amelia in the corner.

“Would you like a drink?” Lady Amelia asked when Oscar sat down.

“Coffee would be nice.”

A few moments later a waitress appeared as if from nowhere with cups and saucers on a tray, along with a coffee pot, sugar bowl and delicate jug of milk. The crockery was in keeping with the décor of the room: mostly white but embellished with pale pink roses. It was quite elegant and suited Lady Amelia very well.

“I have much to tell you,” Lady Amelia said when they both had cups of steaming coffee in front of them. “Why don’t we start, however, with you telling me what you have experienced over the past 24 hours?”

The next day (part 4)

Oscar’s supremely relaxing bath-time was finally interrupted by a door slamming and a familiar voice calling, “I’m home!”  This was followed, after a few seconds of silence, with Delta calling “Oscar?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” Oscar replied.  “I’m in the bath,” he added as the door knob started to turn. Delta stopped turning the door knob and instead stayed in the sitting room and spoke to him through the door.

“It’s time to go down to lunch,” she said. “So get out of the bath and get yourself dried and dressed. I’ll  be waiting out here.”

“Can I use one of your towels?” Oscar asked as he started to sit up and get ready to get out of the bath.

“My towels? Why don’t you just use the drying room?”

“The drying room?”

“Behind the curtain. It’s a shower but also a drying room. Make sure you press the right button.”

Oscar looked over his shoulder to the curtained-off cubicle. He shrugged, got out of the bath, put a towel around himself to mop up the drips, then decided to give the drying room a go.

Behind the curtain, he felt very much like he was about to have a shower. The curtain was drawn, with the towel thrown over the rail. He stood in the middle, facing the buttons on the left-hand wall. It wasn’t hard: one said ‘shower’, the other ‘dry’. He reached out and pressed ‘dry’. He felt immediately warm and cosy. The warm air wasn’t really blowing on him the way it does from a hand dryer, but he was aware of it being around him. In a matter of seconds he was completely dry, including his hair. He wrapped the towel around himself again and collected his wash bag on the way to the door.

He tentatively opened the door a crack and peered through. Delta was sitting on the sofa opposite the bookcase, reading a magazine. He stepped through the door and crept over to collect his clothes from his suitcase. Delta didn’t look up as he took his clothes back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Once dressed, Oscar joined Delta in the sitting room.

“Let’s go then,” Delta said, setting the magazine down on the coffee table. “I’m starving.”

“OK,” Oscar said, and followed her from the room.

He realised that he didn’t know what he was going to see on the other side of the door. He knew the he had come up in a lift and walked a short distance on soft carpet, but that was all.

Through the door, Oscar followed Delta the short few steps to the lift. As they waited for the lift to come, Oscar looked the other way up the brightly-lit though windowless corridor. The carpet did indeed look soft – it was the same as the one in Delta’s sitting room. The short corridor had three other white doors leading off it, which Oscar assumed led to other rooms like Delta’s.

In the lift, Delta pressed G for the ground floor and lift started to move.

“Which floor were we on?” Oscar asked, looking at the panel to see how many numbers there were.

“Four,” Delta replied. “Oh yeah, you didn’t see anything last night, did you?” Oscar smiled at her. “I’d forgotten you haven’t seen any of the headquarters yet. You are going to love it,” she said decisively.

The ride down to the ground floor was pleasant enough. Oscar had a quick look at himself in the mirror in the lift, wearing suit trousers and a shirt without a tie. He hoped he was appropriately dressed. Delta was still wearing her black dress and white cardigan so he thought his plain white shirt probably was suitable.

The lift doors opened to reveal a pale pink lobby with modern paintings on the walls. Through a tall window on the left, Oscar saw a small, paved courtyard, surrounded on all sides by high stone walls. There was a garden bench down there, and a round table with four chairs around it.

Delta led the way to a set of double doors opposite the lift. She pulled open the right-hand door and held it for Oscar go through first.

Oscar blinked and stifled a ‘wow’. This was where she had lunch? White, linen cloths covered the many tables, around which sat all sorts of people, some smartly dressed like Delta, others wearing more casual attire. Above them a sparkling, crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Light also came from the full-height windows which gave magnificent views of a sloping lawn and glistening lake with trees beyond. There was a grand piano on the far side of the room; although no-one was playing it, Oscar was still deeply impressed.

Delta touched Oscar’s elbow, whispered, “Shut your mouth,” and led him over to an empty table. He hadn’t realised he’d be staring open-mouthed and hoped no-one had been watching him. As soon as they sat down a waiter in a grey waistcoat set two cake stands on the table: one with three plates of cakes, the other three plates of sandwiches. Delta thanked him and he bowed as he moved away.

“Help yourself,” Delta said as she herself took three sandwiches with one hand and put them on the plate that was in front of her. Oscar obeyed and started to eat. He didn’t want to talk about the place or ask too many questions while there were so many people around so he ate silently. Delta seemed happy with this – she’d clearly not been lying when she said she was hungry.

The waiters in the grey uniforms moved seamlessly between the tables, taking away empty plates and bring out more towers of sandwiches and cakes. Some carried trays of drinks which they distributed to various tables. Bottles of fruit juice were brought to Delta and Oscar. Delta nodded her thanks as her mouth was full. Oscar simply smiled, lost for words. The drink was yellow like orange juice but smoother and sweeter like mango.

The level of chatter was generally quite low, although a group of young men at a table nearby were talking passionately about a game they were crowded around a laptop watching their friend play. At a table near the piano, someone had just taken a guitar case off his back and he sat down to join his friends, many of whom were trying to persuade him to go and play the piano. Oscar’s attention was then drawn to two girls who had entered. They both had long hair down around their shoulders like Delta’s. One wore a knee-length dress not dissimilar to Delta’s, the other tight jeans with boots and a loose-fitting, striped jumper. They approached Delta and Oscar’s table.

“Delta!” the one in the trousers called, her arms out for a hug. “When did you get back?”

“Late last night,” Delta  said as she wiped her mouth on her napkin. She stood up to hug her friends, then invited them to join her and Oscar for lunch.

“How was your trip?” the other friend asked. “What did you bring me? Apart from this piece of eye candy,” the friend added, nudging Oscar. Oscar blushed and took a gulp of juice.

“This is Oscar,” Delta introduced him. She had sat back down opposite him. “He was also working in Salzburg. We were on the same flight coming home yesterday. Oscar, this is Bristol.” She indicated the blonde on her left, who had just sat down and helped herself to a sandwich from the new stack the waiter had just brought them. “And this is Cordelia.” Oscar’s new admirer grinned, waved and seated herself next to him, opposite Bristol.

“So, how come I haven’t seen you around here before?” Cordelia asked.

Oscar cleared his throat. “Well, because I haven’t been here before,” he answered. “I only arrived yesterday.”

“I can show you around if you like,” Cordelia suggested.

“No need,” Delta interjected. “He’s going to see Amelia after lunch.” This was news to Oscar.

“Lady Amelia?” Cordelia asked.

“Yes,” Delta replied. “I had my debrief this morning and Oscar’s going to see her this afternoon.”

“Who’s Lady Amelia?” Oscar asked.

“You don’t know?” Bristol set down her glass and stared at him.

“I only arrived yesterday,” Oscar said defensively. He looked at Delta for help.

“Sorry, I haven’t really seen you to tell you anything yet. Don’t worry, we’ll soon fill you in.”

“Lady Amelia runs this headquarters,” Cordelia said helpfully. “She sets the missions and debriefs you afterwards. She’s in charge.”

“Missions?” Oscar asked.

“As in when you go somewhere and do something… Delta, I thought you said you met him on a mission.”

Delta blushed. “I met him when I was on a mission. I didn’t say he was on the mission.”

“Are you even Friarrn?” Bristol asked, incredulous.

“Not so loud!” Delta hissed. “He hasn’t been to see Lady Amelia yet. He hardly knows anything about Friarr. I’m sure she’ll start his initiation soon but…”

“Initiation?” Oscar asked. There were too many new and slightly scaring words being used for Oscar’s liking.

“Nothing bad, just telling you what school you’ll be in and getting you started on your course to learn all about…”

“Look, Delta,” Oscar said, quietly enough that only those at the table could hear, but forcefully enough that Delta knew he was serious. “I have no idea what is going on. You brought me here yesterday when I couldn’t go home. You blindfolded me so I couldn’t see anything as I came in. All I have seen is your sitting room and this dining room. Now you’re talking about initiating me into something called Friarr and sending me on a course. What about the rest of my life? I have a house and a job and…” he stopped short. He wasn’t sure if he did have a house or a job any more. “And a family…” He lived alone. “And…”

The sky above the clouds

It struck me today as I was driving to work under a big, grey rain cloud that one of my favourite places to be is the sky above the clouds.  Here is a picture:

The sky above the clouds

The weather could be doing anything down there but it's always sunny up above the clouds.

The next day (part 3)

Oscar picked the correct of the two identical doors which led from the sitting room, and found himself in a bathroom like none he had seen before. A large, round bath dominated the room, on a platform in the centre, with wood panelling around the edge. It had a headrest on one side with a small screen opposite it, so one could watch television whilst in the tub, he assumed. The taps were at the side, so that they wouldn’t get in the way of the bather’s head or feet. As Oscar moved into the room, he turned to the left and found a stack of neatly-folded, fluffy, white towels on a three-tiered heated towel rail. He set his wash bag on the floor next to the towel rail, then straightened up to survey the rest of the room. At the far side was a square sink, backed by a section of tan-coloured mosaic tiles. Next to this, Oscar noticed a curtain. Again, he felt a little uncomfortable being so nosey but this was a very curious place and it intrigued him. He hesitated only a second longer before navigating his way around the bath to the clean, white curtain on the other side of the room. The curtain was cleverly hiding… he would first have described it as a shower cubicle but it was more like wet room, with space for a family of four to all stand on the wooden slatted mat in the centre. Oscar correctly guessed that behind the door in the far corner of the room, he would find the toilet. What he did not guess was that there would also be a sink in there, a fresh supply of hand towels, a wide selection of soaps and lotions, and an automatic flush.

This was all a bit too much for poor Oscar, the man who lived alone in a thirty-year-old house in need of repair. Somehow he came to the conclusion that the best thing was to have a nice, relaxing bath, where he could soak away his worries.

As the bath was filling, Oscar experimented with the knobs and buttons next to the taps. One released scented bubble bath in with the water. By the time he’d realised what it was, it was too late to stop it so he accepted the fact that he was now going to have a bubble bath. Once in the bath, put his head on the cushiony-soft headrest, which was perfectly positioned to support him as he leant back and stretched out his limbs in the spacious, circular tub, completely hidden by pretty-smelling bubbles.

Oscar tried to rationalise what had happened over the last twenty-four hours, and what was happening to him now. It was difficult. Thinking warmer water might help, he sat up a bit to find a temperature control. The button he stumbled upon did not adjust the temperature but Oscar lay back as soothing, ethereal music reached his ears. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything now. He tried to, but it didn’t work. He tried to think about the journey he should have had home. He tried to think about his house, surrounded by armed guards. He tried to think about his office, now a pile of rubble. But he couldn’t. He even tried to think about how he should probably have called his mother. But even that didn’t interrupt the heavenly relaxation he was now experiencing.

The next day (part 2)

Delta reappeared wearing a smart, black, knee-length dress with a white cardigan thrown over the top. She'd plonked an alice-band on top of her hair, which was down around her shoulders. In her arms she carried a multi-coloured folder bulging with pages.

“I'll be back before lunch,” she called to Oscar. “Make yourself at home.” And with that, she stuck her feet into a pair of flip-flops that were conveniently by the door, and left.

Oscar sat for a while, not moving, not thinking. Then he got up to make himself some coffee. On his way to the coffee machine, he caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows (the one that was showing a dark street in the snow) and saw that he still had the blindfold on his head. He pulled it off and tossed it onto the sofa.

Initially Oscar was disappointed to see the limited choices he was presented with on the screen on the front of the machine: tea, coffee, chocolate, fruit, other. Oh well, he thought, better a generic cup of coffee than nothing at all. He touched 'coffee'. The other words faded out and the word 'coffee' moved to the top of the screen. Then an array of further choices animated their way onto the screen. He could choose not only the type of drink he wanted – espresso, americano, latte, cappuccino, etc. – but also the country of origin of the beans, how he wanted the beans to have been roasted, whether he wanted syrup, how much milk or sugar he wanted, the temperature he wanted the water to be heated to. The only button missing was whether he wanted a biscuit for dipping. At the bottom there was a star and the word 'favourites'. He touched this to see what Delta had programmed in. 'Skinny latte with a shot of caramel' was the only option. He winced: that would be far too sweet! He pressed back and opted for a double-shot black americano made with heavy roasted beans from Guatemala. That would wake him up.

As he sipped his drink, he wandered about the room. He was intrigued but cautious. He didn't know when Delta would be back, only that it would be before lunch, and he didn't want to be caught nosing around her belongings.

He scanned the bookshelves. There were titles he recognised, like The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and some he didn't, like Wooing the White School, Ready for Red School and Yearning for Yellow School. Delta had mentioned something about colours and schools; these books must be related to that.

In the corner was a very old-looking mahogany desk, with shiny handles on the drawers and a leather top. A computer keyboard was on the desk; behind it sat a computer screen. Oscar peered at it: the screen, with its mahogany frame, looked as though it were part of the desk. He reached out and touched the top of it. The screen started to move: it sank down into the desk and a lid fit itself onto the slot it had disappeared through, completely hiding it from view. Now there was just a keyboard looking out of place on an antique desk.

This desk was the only clear surface. The coffee table, windowsills, bookshelves and the other desk all had an assortment of items scattered over them haphazardly: the tablet PC and the mp3 player Oscar had spotted earlier, a few books, coasters, magazines, printouts of webpages, a few ornaments. The place certainly looked 'lived in'.

On the opposite wall from the door out of the apartment were two windows. One showed the dark, snowy street Oscar had seen his reflection in; the other a bright, cool day in a large, green park. Oscar moved closer to the latter. He judged it to be mid-morning by the height of the sun in the sky. The grassy lawn was about three storeys below the window, with a path close to the building. There were a few people walking along paths which led from one side to the other, round a pond and over to the play area with no children in it. A man sat on a bench under a tree reading a book. He was wearing a scarf and hat and gloves so it must have been cold out there.

Through the other window, the Victorian Christmas-card-like scene looked to be only one floor below, which made Oscar feel a little disorientated. He knew to trust the other window because he knew it was mid-morning and not the middle of the night, but this view did look very real. He considered opening the window to see what would happen, but he didn't want to risk getting snow inside.

His coffee and tour of the room complete, Oscar sat down once again on his sofa-cum-bed. He set his mug on the coffee table in front of him, on a spare coaster between a DVD case and a puzzle book. He checked his phone: no messages, emails or missed calls. He wondered what to do with his freedom. Having a shower and changing into clean clothes might be a good start, he said to himself. Having just returned from a trip abroad, he fortunately had a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries to hand. Being a very organised person, he was fortunate enough to have a spare change of clean clothes as he always packed extra just in case. Just in case of what? he'd sometimes asked himself. Just in case of kidnapping by young woman and imprisonment in luxury apartment. He smiled to himself: this certainly was a situation he hadn't banked on getting into.

The next day (part 1)

Oscar coughed, then heard a shriek. He opened his eyes. All he could see was a white cushion. He was sleeping on Delta Foxtrot's sofa. He must have turned over in the night so that he was now facing the cushions.

Urgent whispering was coming from a short distance away. Oscar closed his eyes and pretended to still be a asleep while he strained to hear what was being said.

“But how did you get him up here?” someone asked.

“In the lift,” a sleepy voice replied. It was Delta's.

“But how did you get past security?”

“We came in through the shop.”

“You know about—”

“Everyone knows the way in through the shop.”

That must have been the room they'd wound a weaving path through the previous night, the one that smelt of books and soap. A secret entrance into... wherever it was they were. Oscar wondered if he should get up quietly and sneak out. He could leave without anyone else knowing he'd been here.

“There's no way he can stay here without anyone finding him,” the unfamiliar voice said. So that idea was out the window.

“Look, it'll be fine,” Delta said. There was a rustling sound. Perhaps she was getting out of bed. “I'll speak to Amelia.”

“That's Lady Amelia,” the other voice said sternly. She'd forgotten to whisper: Oscar had heard her loud and clear.

There was movement nearby. Oscar kept his eyes shut tight and didn't dare move. He wished he weren't here.

“Oscar?” Delta said sweetly, suddenly right next to him. Oscar jumped and sat up, almost falling off the sofa but saving himself just in time. Fortunately, that gave the impression that he'd just woken up. “Good morning,” she added.

“Uh, good morning.” He nodded and remained seated.

“Delta,” the other person said from behind Oscar. He turned his head to see her, which gave him the opportunity to see the room he was in. It reminded him of a hotel suite from a brochure he'd seen on one of his business trips. He was in a fairly large and sumptuously decorated sitting room. The carpet, as he had experienced through only his feet the night before, looked very fluffy. There were two sofas, both white, both very squishy. In his sweep across the room as he turned his head, he caught sight of a widescreen TV, an antique bookcase which covered one wall (full of books, with a ladder for reaching the higher shelves) and a state-of-the-art coffee maker in one corner. The person his eyes met when he finally made it all the way round, twisting in his seat so he could see, was a nervous-looking maid. She wore a black dress with white collar and white pinny, and comfortable black shoes. Her hair was pulled severely back from her face and she was wringing her hands in front of her. Oscar missed most of her conversation with Delta whilst reacting to the rest of the room. Was this really where Delta lived? He glanced up at the ceiling: it was white with patterns around the walls and a beautiful, golden centre-piece where the light (almost a chandelier) was fitted. When he thought about it, the widescreen TV seemed out of place in the stately-home style décor of the rest of the room. Then he realised that this wasn't the only technology: screens and devices littered the many surfaces. The coffee machine in the corner sported a colour touch-screen; two windows showed different weather, so one must be screen; a tablet PC and an mp3 player resided on the desk by one of the windows. Oscar wasn't sure what to make of it all. Delta seemed to be extremely rich. Why, then, were Delta and the maid talking about whether he was allowed to be here? And who was Lady Amelia? The way he saw it, Delta owned this place, the maid worked for her and Delta could do whatever she wanted.

When Oscar tuned in to the conversation again, the maid said, “What I really came up here for was because you're late for your debrief.”

Delta snorted. “But that's not until half past—”

“Half past nine,” the maid finished her sentence. She still looked very tense. “I make it...” she checked her watch. “Nine twenty-nine.”

“What!” Delta and Oscar both said at the same time. Oscar dived for his phone as Delta rushed from the room. The maid threw up her hands then left by another door.

Oscar grabbed his phone from his coat pocket and speed-dialled the office, tapping his leg nervously with his free hand. The line went dead. That was strange. There were three lines in to the office and an answer phone. It should connect to something. He tried his direct line in case there was someone near his desk who could pick it up. It wasn't the first time the phone line into the office had been interrupted. One time there had been roadworks outside their building and a workman had cut through the wrong cable. But there weren't any roadworks going on at the moment. He opened his contacts and thought about who to call. Marcus would be best: he did almost the same job as Oscar so he would understand what the meeting was about but not have the authority to discipline him for being late today.

Oscar thanked his lucky stars as the phone started to ring.

“Oscar, what's going on?” Oscar could sense the panic in Marcus's voice.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Oscar said. “I haven't been able to get to work yet and when I rang in the line just went dead. Could you get a message to—”

“Oscar, stop talking! The office burnt down.”

“What?” Oscar leant back on the sofa, sinking into the impossibly-soft cushions. “So the meeting...” he trailed off.

“Is off,” Marcus said shortly. “There will be no presentation or meeting today for sure. We're not sure what happened. All I know is the building is just a pile of rubble. We're in Costa up the road waiting for more information. It's crazy, people with laptops and phones everywhere. Where are you?”

Oscar didn't answer straight away. How could he say he didn't know where he was? That would sound stupid. “My flight was delayed,” he said truthfully.

“Well, let us know when you're back and we can fill you in.”

“Thanks, Marcus. Bye.” Oscar put the phone down next to him and didn't move. Partly because he couldn't – the sofa was so soft it was going to take some effort to get up. That wasn't his top priority right now, though. First his home and now his office. What was he going to lose next?