Only Strange People Go to Church (13 page)

At Maria’s front door there is confused hesitation. It looks like Dezzie isn’t going to kiss her. She’s given him every opportunity. After thanking him for a lovely night she leaned towards him and looked into his eyes. He doesn’t say he’s had a lovely night or we must do this again sometime or do you have plans for next week end, all the things she had creatively visualised him doing. He just stands there. Not smiling, but not frowning either. She’s done everything but close her eyes and pucker up. Why did he walk her to her door if he isn’t going to kiss her? So, with a sigh, she turns to put her key in the lock.

Dezzie takes a step towards her. She can feel his breath on her neck. He gently touches her arm and this is all the encouragement she needs. She turns swiftly and clamps her mouth to his. For one horrible millisecond it occurs to her, what if he wasn’t about to kiss her? What if he only wanted to say
cheerio; mind how you go.
But he responds; he’s a good kisser. Maria feels an immediate moistening.

Sometimes, alone, under the duvet, she likens her excitable body to a fruit. She used to think of herself as a peach, to imagine a man pushing at her, opening her like a ripe peach. Sometimes, when she’s had an ugly day, when a character on TV has made some cruel remark about a female character being unattractive, she can only think of herself as a pear. A pear that, left for very much longer, will turn to a dry grainy mush. She throws her arms around Dezzie’s neck and kisses him hard.

Dezzie puts his hands on either side of her waist, elbows bent, holding her as though he’s about to hoist her up in a romantic ballet move. They hold this position for several minutes until Maria
breaks, looks into his face, smiles, and then hugs him tight. Dezzie returns the hug, tenderly rubbing his arms across her back. They are cheek to cheek and Maria kisses him, closer and closer to his mouth until they are snogging again. This time Dezzie’s hand slides down and across Maria’s bum. Instinctively she pushes in towards him.

She has decided, after a long consultation with Arlene and Nelson earlier, that she will not be sleeping with Dezzie tonight. Despite Arlene now being officially dead, she is no less lively in Maria’s mind.

‘Whoa! You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, Missie,’ said Arlene. ‘Who says he’ll want to move things on to a physical level?’

But she was teasing.

‘Who am I kidding; he’s a guy, isn’t he?’ she laughed.

Although Arlene and Nelson enjoyed a bit of sport at Maria’s expense, their advice was unequivocal.

‘Always leave them gasping for more,’ said Arlene, ‘it’ll raise your stock.’

Arlene and Nelson often gave conflicting points of view, that was why she liked them, to get both sides of every story, but for once Nelson concurred.

‘Relationships between men and women should be about mutual respect. People should not be in such a hurry to drop their drawers,’ he said.

Arlene had laughed.

‘That’s rich coming from you, you old goat!’

Nelson laughed too. They were both having a great time tormenting her. Meditation was supposed to be relaxing.

‘But he’s right, Maria. Men don’t want a wife who’s a slut.’

‘Hen,’ said Nelson gently, ‘you keep your hand on your half-penny.’

Maria fully intends to do so. It would be unseemly for her to jump straight into bed with Dezzie, he’s a colleague and more importantly, the man she hopes to marry. She doesn’t want their first date to be marred by memories of how she behaved like a slapper.

Still and all, the kissing is so delicious that she can’t bear that it should end just yet. But, if she was to invite him in, would he understand that it didn’t mean sex? Surely he knows her well enough by
now to know that she’s not like that. She tilts her pelvis up, getting closer to his and he answers by fondling her buttocks. Dezzie’s a gentleman, she’s sure of it.

‘Do you want to come up for…’

Kissing has caused all the blood to run to her groin, she has forgotten the word. What’s the word she’s looking for? And then she remembers.

‘For a coffee?’

She has taken too long to find the word and now they’re both embarrassed. Dezzie probably thinks she means it as code.

‘Just a quick one.’

Dezzie looks alarmed.

‘I mean a quick coffee!’

He looks away.

‘I better get back,’ he mumbles. ‘I’ll need to give the car a bit of a sluice out, get rid of the smell.’

This is the first time either of them has mentioned George’s rich aroma.

‘Jan’ll go mad, she’ll never lend me it again.’

Maria struggles to disguise her bafflement. He was squeezing her buttcheeks a second ago.

‘Yeah, the car, of course.’

‘But next time, eh?’

So there’s going to be a next time. She breathes a sigh of relief.

‘Okay,’ she says softly, ‘that’ll be nice. I’ll look forward to it.’

Maria closes the door and listens for his footsteps walking briskly down the hall. What was all that about? Does he not fancy her? He said there was going to be a next time so presumably he does. Maybe he, like her, felt it was too soon. Maybe he’s thinking about the long term too. He’s a sensitive guy, and probably not one to let his prick dictate. They have so much in common. As she’s brushing her teeth she makes another decision. She won’t do anything about the moistening. Out of respect for Dezzie, her hand won’t stray to her halfpenny tonight.

As she’s pulling her nightie on over her head, a loud insistent banging starts at her door.

Maria puts the chain on and opens the door the six inches the chain allows. It's Dezzie. She quickly closes the door again, takes the chain off and opens the door properly. He rushes into her arms and kisses her passionately there in the doorway. It's a matter of half a minute before they're on the bed and he's pulling her nightie over her head. In the hurried fumblings she hasn't had a chance to unbutton it and gets snagged, her head bagged inside, breathless, until she can undo it.

Despite this initial clumsiness, Dezzie is a great lover. Much better than Dirk ever was. He has her naked and is kissing all over her body with light butterfly kisses that drive her crazy.

He touches her breasts, her back arching with the delicious coolness of his fingers. He lightly strokes the sides, the slopes, the undersides of her breasts; teasingly avoiding her nipples, though she writhes and sighs.

She opens her eyes to find his mouth and kiss him but as soon as she does, she becomes embarrassed. Dezzie is staring at her breasts. Then, faint as a breath, he kisses her nipple.

‘You're beautiful, Maria.'

These are magic words. They transport Maria to a place where there are no pimples or bad smells or squelchy noises, a place where there exists only pleasure.

Maria wants to touch Dezzie, to let him feel something of the ecstasy she feels, but every time she puts a hand on him he gently removes it. He's concentrating only on her satisfaction.

‘What do you want me to do? What do you like?' he whispers.

And he continues to whisper until Maria, shyly, tells him.

‘There, down there,' she murmurs.

This seems to excite him and he moans with pleasure as he explores her.

Dezzie's so different from other men she's slept with, never mind the proper boyfriends she's had. He's a hundred times better than her Dirk. Dirk was too controlling. He hated it if she tried to tell him what to do. Once, when she asked him to touch her a little more gently he shouted, ‘Don't tell me how to touch a woman's tits, I know what I'm doing!'

This was embarrassing enough, but there were other people in the train carriage and they must have heard him.

Maria has reached the point where she has to have Dezzie inside her or else she'll explode. She pulls at his trouser pockets, feeling his slim hips underneath. For the first time it strikes her that he's still fully clothed.

‘Take your clothes off,' she says, pulling at his belt.

He resists at first.

‘Please,' she begs.

Dezzie has nothing to be shy about. His penis is beautiful, not as big as Dirk's but much nicer looking. The skin of his foreskin is pale and creamy, like the skin of a baby.

‘Please Dezzie, please put it in me.'

He lies on top of her and puts his penis inside her. His fingers are splayed on the sheet, his elbows locked as he supports his weight, something Dirk never did. He rocks to and fro, in and out. His breath is fast and shallow. She wraps her arms and legs around him and feels his body clench. Waves of euphoria wash over her.

‘Oh my God,' she says.

She keeps on saying it, ‘oh my God, oh my God,' she says over and over again until the waves recede. And then she cries.

Dezzie holds her tight, wiping and kissing her tears.

‘Are you okay?' he whispers.

‘Yeah,' she gulps, ‘I'm fine.'

‘Was it okay?'

‘It was fantastic, Dezzie. Was it good for you?'

Dezzie smiles.

‘Fantastic.'

‘Thank you. Thank you Dezzie, that was amazing.'

Maria is beginning to nod off, she has been faintly aware of him moving on the bed but now she realises that he's putting his clothes on.

‘Dezzie?'

The significance of this hits her. He's not staying the night, he's not going to fall asleep cuddling into her and wake up beside her tomorrow. He got what he wanted and now he's leaving. He probably feels dirty: he's made a mistake, had a one night stand with a workmate and can't bear to face her. Dezzie leans over and kisses Maria, an automatic, see you later, kiss.

‘Aren't you going to stay?'

‘I have to get Jan's car sorted out.'

‘You don't have to go now,' she says, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. ‘We could clean it in the morning. We can get up early and give it a good scrub; I can set the alarm an hour earlier, two hours if…'

‘I've got to go Maria, I'm sorry.'

‘Okay.'

‘Bye bye.'

Maria sees him to the door and then pulls her nightie back on. She's too relaxed and sleepy to let the grief begin now. Plenty of time for grief and humiliation tomorrow.

Three hours later she's opening the door again. She hasn't put the chain on this time.

‘I got it valeted. All night carwash in Westwood,' Dezzie explains, ‘cost a bloody fortune.'

Maria takes his hand and leads him back to bed. He's more careful with her nightie this time.

Ray has finished the sideboard. It’s taken three times longer to make than it should have but it’s a job well done and gives him pleasure. Working at this rate he’s unlikely to make any real money, he’ll hardly turn a profit but it’ll be enough. The buyer was pretty pleased with it and has commissioned two more, that’ll keep him going for the foreseeable. Ray doesn’t think beyond that. He’s bought the wood and will make a start on the next sideboard once they get the snooker table in. He decides to play his guitar while he waits for it to arrive.

Inspired by the orchestra’s performance at the rehearsal, Ray has dug out his guitar and dusted it down. He runs through his repertoire of old tunes while the metal strings bite his soft fingertips. He thought he’d never lift this guitar again. A few months ago he poured his soul into these familiar melodies, playing until his fingers cracked and bled. Now he just plays, without hope or despair, he just plays.

Alice from the OAP centre offered him the snooker table. It seemed strange, when she mentioned it the first time, that an old lady should be interested in snooker but she must have been thinking of this place as a home for it. A full-size proper slate table with balls and cues and all the gubbins, it must be worth a packet. It was a bequest to Autumn House but there’s no room for it there and they can’t sell it.

Getting it here was going to be a problem. Ray’s had to give up his works van. He couldn’t afford to keep up the lease so, once he unloaded his tools into the church, back it went. He was sorry to see it go, it was a smart van and he always liked the company name
on it in the professional livery, but what the hell. Young Bob has volunteered his dad’s van to bring the snooker table.

‘You didn’t tell me it was a fish van,’ says Alice through gritted teeth when it arrives, ‘the table’ll be stinking.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Ray says, but there’s an overpowering whiff of fish when Bob’s dad opens the back door.

The blankets thrown around the table to protect the woodwork have come off one corner and Alice is making a fuss. She is barking instructions at the volunteer driver and the crowd of youngsters who have rallied round to help bring it in. Alice doesn’t seem to like the young people who come around the church but she knows Ray’s policy.

A dozen young lads are lifting and pulling and heaving at the table to bring it out of the van. When they get it out Bob, Gerry and Aldo each grab a corner of the table. As if lifting this elephantine weight were a great honour, they fight off the others for the corner spots and keep the last corner for Ray. The others bunch together along the sides, shoving in to make a space for themselves. After a count of three they lift together but their forward progress is ragged and dangerously wobbly. The lads are rushing at it, trying to get it inside before they humiliate themselves. From experience, Ray knows what’s required. They need a beat, a slow beat.

‘Wait!’ he calls.

He’s surprised by how quickly they obey.

‘Right, let’s get it up on our shoulders, okay? One, two, three!’

They get it up on their shoulders.

‘Okay, wait. Everybody happy?’

Everybody’s happy.

‘Now, let’s move together, slow and steady as she goes, okay? Starting on the right leg, one, two, three!

‘I went down to St James’s infirmary

To see my baby there,’

Their entrance into the church is slow and metrical.

‘She was stretched out on a long white table,

So pale

So cold

So fair.’

With processional solemnity, they bring it through the church doors. Once they have safely put it down Aldo asks Ray,

‘What was that song you were singing?’

Ray is shocked by this. He’s unaware that he had been singing. He thought it was only in his head. He has to get away from this question and goes to stand outside again. Bob’s dad is shutting up the van while Alice waves a ten pound note at him.

‘Don’t be silly; put your money away, hen!’

‘No, come on now, it must have cost you something in petrol,’ she argues.

‘Listen, I’m only pleased to lend a hand. Good on you for starting it up,’ Bob’s dad says as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

Alice turns to Ray, a quizzical expression making deep grooves in her face.

‘Starting what up?’ she asks him.

Ray shrugs, as bemused as she is.

‘Give me a shout if you need any more equipment moved. Anytime. Best of luck with your wee youth club. Good on you.’

Bob’s dad gives Alice and Ray an American-style salute as he drives off. They stand and watch him pull away. Neither of them returns the salute.

When they go back into the church the young people have wasted no time. They are unpacking cues and setting the balls on the table.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ says Alice, moving quickly to the table and sweeping the balls together.

‘Ho! Wait a wee minute!’ says Aldo. ‘We humphed the fucker in here, we’re getting the first game!’

‘The
first
game!’ says Alice. ‘Who says you’re getting a game at all?’

Pandemonium breaks out at this but Alice stands with her hand on her hip. Ray decides he’s going to take a back seat on this one.

‘This table is the property of Autumn House and I’m responsible for it. I’m not having you lot wreck it.’

The youngsters surge towards her with aggressive displays of chest-jutting and noisy remonstration but Alice stays put.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ says Bob. ‘My dad brought it here. We’re not going to wreck it!’

Encouraged by Bob’s swearing at the old woman and perhaps Ray’s non-intervention, the rest of them take up the ‘fuck’s sake’ theme.

‘Well, what guarantee have I got?’ says Alice, looking to Ray to back her up.

Ray says nothing. If they’re all going to come in here then they’ll have to find a way of getting along. She’s a feisty old bird, but she’s a troublemaker as well as a chancer. Maybe the
come one come all
idea isn’t going to work out after all. If it can’t be resolved he has the ultimate sanction of having the snooker table removed, it’s not worth all this hassle.

‘I’m keeping the stuff. If you want to use the balls and cues you pay a deposit. End of bliddy story.’

Alice turns away and then back again as another thought appears to strike her.

‘Ten pounds.’

The shouting begins again accompanied by disbelieving laughter at the effrontery of the old dear.

‘Ten pound? We don’t have ten pound between us. Where are we gonna get a tenner?’ says Gerry, without rancour.

‘Well here’s a wee idea for you,’ says Alice with mock patience before yelling, ‘Away and work!’

‘D’you see any jobs around here?’ says Bob once the furore dies down. ‘You’re okay, you’ve got your pension every week and your own house…’

‘Aye,’ agrees Aldo. ‘And your wee gumsy pensioners club with fucking snooker tables you’re too fucking decrepit and gumsy to play.’ Aldo now impersonates a decrepit gumsy pensioner feebly trying to play snooker. Everyone laughs, Ray laughs and doesn’t try to hide it. Why should he? Fair play. Aldo’s a moron but he’s funny sometimes and anyway, she has it coming. She has shown them nothing but contempt, why should they be deferential? She’s a cheeky bastard as far as Ray can see.

‘Listen, you!’ Alice shouts. ‘I don’t know where you’re getting gumsy from, I’ve got my own teeth.’

To prove this she taps a long painted fingernail on her front teeth.

‘And pensioner or no, I’ll hammer any one of you at snooker. Any one of you that can raise the deposit that is.’

The kids are buzzing with the challenge she’s thrown down. They go into a strategy huddle, sharing fundraising ideas to get the money together.

‘What about this Burberry shirt, would you take that?’ says Bob, the most pragmatic of the group. ‘I paid seventy-five quid for it.’

‘Seventy-five quid! Did the shop have big windows? Because they must have seen you coming.’

‘It’s worth a hundred, it was in the sale!’

‘Listen son, what it’s worth and what you paid for it are two different things. That shirt’s no use to me, it’s not my colour. Ten pounds deposit or nobody plays.’

After a few minutes of grumbling and pocket shaking the ten pounds deposit is assembled. Alice chooses Aldo as her opponent. Not surprisingly she has no support while the rest of the assembly are firmly behind Aldo. Ray returns to playing his guitar. He should be getting on with the next sideboard but he’s interested to see who wins, stopping to watch when either of them takes a shot.

Alice it seems is all talk. Her snooker skills are minimal. Aldo is no expert either; both of them miss shots and even occasionally pot the white ball. For this reason the game takes a long time but eventually, to the jubilant delight of his cheering audience, Aldo wins. Alice takes her defeat on the chin, stoically returning the ten pounds deposit. Aldo, magnanimous in triumph, holds out his hand. With dignity and a smile playing around her lips Alice returns his firm handshake. Fair play.

After that she secures and returns the ten pounds for every game until they’ve all had a turn on the table. Later, when everyone else has gone home, she approaches Ray.

‘I was thinking, with the rehearsals going on here for the community show and all these young ones hanging about, we could start a café.’

‘We?’

‘I don’t mean you, I mean me. Me and some of the girls. We’ve got time on our hands. And you know, they’re right. In some ways pensioners have got a better deal. I was thinking about what Bob’s dad said, about a youth club. We’ve got everything we need in the kitchen here: the urn and cups and that. Maybe we could have a youth club.’

‘I think we already have.’

‘Well, about a café, what d’you think?’

‘I think that would be very public spirited of you, Alice.’

Although he doesn’t say so, Ray is surprised and pleased. Outwardly Alice is a hard-boiled old roaster but she’s obviously got a kind heart in there.

‘Public spirited, my arse. I only want this lot to come in so I can give them a good spanking at the snooker.’

‘Are you sure about that? I don’t want to hurt your feelings but you looked pretty rubbish to me.’

‘Oh, don’t let the old granny act fool you. I’m hiding my light under a bushel. Nobody calls me gumsy and gets away with it,’ she says with grim determination. ‘I’m only reeling them in, Ray, only reeling them in.