The next day, Monty found that his back hadn’t improved despite the rest he had had. He got up to let John outside and then sank back into his beloved arm chair to wait for his friend’s return instead of straining his aching muscles. On the table beside him were the items he had brought back from the shops including the letter. He picked it up and finally began reading,

“ Dear Mr Creek,

It has come to our understanding that you have got the real Turin Shroud in your possession and would like to make you an offer of three million pounds for it.

This item means a lot to our church and we are certain that a reasonable man such as yourself would be happy to take us up on our offer. We will visit you tomorrow evening to collect it.

God bless,
Sir Graham Forrest, a friend of the church”


Monty laughed at the inventive money making scam; he’d seen television shows exposing these “too good to be true” deals and he certainly wasn’t going to fall for this one. He threw the letter away without much further thought.

However, later that day when Monty was tidying his frames the scrap of cloth inside his newest addition did look a lot like the Turin Shroud... He prized the clasps off the back of the frame and removed the panel. Then he let the cloth slide onto his table. As he unfolded it, it became very obvious that this fifty pence piece of fabric was indeed the Turin Shroud. It was too big to fit on the table and so he spread it out across the floor of his home. The more Monty gazed at the figure on the cloth, the more it looked like Jesus Christ. The old man scratched his head and gathered up the sacred sheet of linen. He felt like he should wash it or something but then considered that not to be the best idea. John sniffed it and shrank away as a result. Not being a religous man, Monty decided to put it on the top shelf in his bedroom and then continued to arrange his picture frames. But the new frame had lost its charm when it was empty so Monty fetched the shroud and returned it to the state he’d bought it in.

In the evening, after watching the news, Monty finished his book on snails and settled down to have a nap before bed. However, just as he’d found a comfortable position in his chair there was a startling knock on the door. The old man heaved himself to his feet and unlocked the the paper-thin entrance. Standing outside was a tall man wearing a pinstripe suit and holding a large briefcase.
“Mr Creek? I’m here about the shroud.” He asked, his voice clear and well-spoken. Monty stopped to consider what he meant and suddenly it hit him.
“Are you Graham Forrest?” Monty croaked – his elderly vocal chords letting him down.
“I am indeed. I trust you recieved my letter?” Graham replied, straightening his jacket.
“Yes. I suppose you’d better come in.” The old man said, stepping aside to pull up an extra chair for his guest.

Once inside, Graham explained that the shroud meant a lot to his employer – a high up member of the Catholic church – and that Monty should recieve three million pounds in exchange for it. Monty said nothing and gazed at the cloth. Actually, he quite liked the shroud and the way it looked on his wall and he told Graham so.
“I see,” The tall man said politely, “Do you mind if I make a few calls and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Monty nodded as Graham left and continued to stare at the cloth. It sent a shiver down his spine which soothed his muscles. He didn’t take his eyes off it and it wasn’t long before his back was no longer aching. When Monty realised what he was doing, he considered the healing powers of the shroud and thought that it could be a very nice object for an old man to have until his dieing day.
“I’m on the phone to my employer now and he would be willing to let you name your price for the shroud!” Graham said, poking his head through the door frame.
“No thank you, Graham. It was very nice to meet you but I’m an old man – I have no intrest in money.” Monty said proudly, shutting the door and bolting it easily without pain.

For the rest of evening, it was obvious that Sir Graham Forrest wasn’t prepared to return to his boss empty handed and shouted offers repeatedly through the thin walls of Monty’s mobile home. But there was nothing that he could say which would change the old man’s mind and Monty went to bed at the usual time, ignoring Graham almost blissfully.

Wednesday morning came and Monty woke up fresh and bright. When he let John outside, he was pleased to see that Graham was gone and so he walked to town with his four-legged friend with a spring in his step. The pair went straight to the post office where there was a good handful of letters waiting for collection. And when Monty went to the charity shop and bought a book on Sea shells, the old lady at the counter even gave him a bag.

But when he came home, not only was Graham waiting for him, but he had brought along a few friends. Monty didn’t have to be religious to tell that the group of people outside his little mobile home were bishops and the pope – robes and all.
“He insisted on being flown over immiediatly to talk with you.” Graham started. However, John was not impressed by the invasion of territory – Pope or not - this was his land. The huge mutt put himself between the Pope and Monty and growled, curling his lip and glaring through his glassy eyes at the important man.
“It’s alright, John,” Monty said, patting the dog on his head, “I won’t be selling the shroud and so these men won’t be bothering us today. Or any other day for I won’t change my mind.”

Now John was a very obedient dog but he didn’t like the look of the Pope one little bit so he continued to growl at him. It was hard to tell who was more astonished; Monty and Graham stared at John aghast. The Pope, however, seemed quite touched that the animal payed him so much attention. He reached out and scratched John’s nose and the dog softened, his growl turning into a moan.
“What a beautiful dog!” The Pope exclaimed, now using both hands to stroke and pat John.
Monty smiled down at his friend and looked at the Pope sadly.
“I’m afraid that I’ve become very attached to shroud.” Monty said, disappointed at letting down the nice man.
“I understand that.” He replied kindly, “It can make quite an impression on people.”
“But it made me feel so young again. I’m an old man – I’ve got just weeks left. Feeling good means so much. And giving John his walks without having to sit down for hours to recover is too important to sell.” Monty said weakly, avoiding the Pope’s eye out of embarressment.
“Of course. Mr Creek, the shroud is yours to enjoy. Have a lovely evening – I’ve heard about the most beautiful sunsets around this area.” The robed gentleman said, patting John the sort of pat considered as a farewell.

Monty watched the party walk away but knew that they had come a long way...
“Please, stay for the sunsets – they are indeed very beautiful. I could make us tea to take to the beach.” He said, smiling at the first human in years.

And although the Bishops had mass to attend and Graham had a flight to catch, the Pope stayed with Monty and John for the whole evening. It turned out that they had a lot in common; they both loved snails and shells and dogs. Monty felt alive again as he chatted about things that didn’t even matter.

When the Pope eventually left, Monty returned home with John. As he stepped inside, the stillness hit him like a cold wind yet he still had a smile on his face. Before bed, he decided to read through his post. All but one of them were junk. He opened the one to find a familiar piece of printer paper with a typed message.

“Dear Mr Creek,

Apoligies for my early departure; I would have loved to stay for tea on the beach. But actually the nature of my letter is to inform you that the cloth on your wall has gone. I didn’t take it; it just travels to wherever it’s needed.

I’m sorry for your loss. I understand that it meant a lot to you – it must have done! Maybe you should have accepted the money for it when you could. But as you said, money wasn’t what you wanted.

I hope you have got something out of it and God bless,
Sir Graham Forrest, a friend”


And sure enough, when Monty looked up, it was gone.