The Night Watchman Said The Chapel Bell Rings For Him, Not For The Dead

The cemetery chapel has not held a service since 1998 and the bell has been out of use since before that. The rope is tied off at head height and the door is padlocked and I have watched a council man test both.

Twice a year, at three in the morning, it rings once.

Not a peal. Not a clang. One clear ring, the way a bell rings when somebody has pulled it deliberately, once, and then held the rope to stop it swinging back.

I did nights there for four years. I heard it eight times.

The council's official position is that it is the wind. I have stood inside that chapel, at three in the morning, in a gale, and the bell did not move, because the rope is tied off, because I tied it, because I checked it, because I am the sort of man who checks.

I asked the old watchman, who did the job before me for nineteen years, what he made of it.

He said: "It's not for them. It's for us."

I asked what that meant.

He said, "Have you noticed when it goes?"

I had not, and then I did, because he made me look.