29.
Kissing on a Gravestone
DRESSED in silver trainers, white socks, pale blue jeans, a grey hoodie and his green rain-jacket, Yo-yo carries his tartan rucksack out to the car and heaves it into the back. Venus Periwinkle is wearing a stunning, slinky creation in scarlet and black and a fabulous matching hat. The COZEE NOOK residents gather outside to say their goodbyes. Uncle Reefer brushes both Yo-yo and Venus with his bushy moustache whilst Aunty Latch crushes them both in a smothering hug. She sheds several tears.
''It's been lovely having you here,'' she tells Yo-yo. ''You must come again.''
Lily is blushing. ''You will write, won't you?'' she lisps through her braces.
''Sure,'' says Yo-yo, pecking her swiftly on the cheek.
''You will come to the wedding,'' Katze insists. ''We'd love to have you there.'' His fiancée is feeding Baby inside the house.
''Of course,'' says Yo-yo. ''I wouldn't miss it for the world.'' On an impulse he touches the ring on his chest. He looks at his mother who smiles graciously so he unhooks the chain and hands it over. ''This is a gift from us to you. Give it to Lolly and look after it well.''
Katze's lower lip trembles and his eyes fill with tears. ''This is too much,'' he mutters, ''Far too much.''
''It's only a ring,'' says Venus Periwinkle, ''Only stuff, you know?''
''Where did you get it?'' mumbles Uncle Reefer through his Nicorette gum.
''It came from a jewel mine in central Sri Lanka,'' explains Venus Periwinkle. ''It was a wedding gift to my husband and I from Honeysuckle Moon so it is right that the ring now becomes a wedding gift to you and Mrs Lollipop.'' She kisses Katze on the cheek. ''Look after her, Katze.''
''I will,'' he says solemnly.
As they load their bags into Katze's Rolls-Royce, Venus Periwinkle turns to her son. ''That was a beautiful thing you just did.'' She kisses the top of his head.
''It's no big deal,'' shrugs Yo-yo, ''But it will make them happy.''
They have a couple of hours before their train so, because it is another bright, sunny day, Venus Periwinkle elects to shop for clothes in Laura Ashley's, Brown's and Cult whilst Yo-yo goes for a walk by the river. He stands on Micklegate Bridge and gazes over the brown water at the King's Arms pub which he had flooded only the day before yesterday, at the cobbled King's Staithe where the people of York had set up their ducking stool and plunged Martin Mizzenmast into the drink, at the middle of the Ouse where Death and Sigurd had crashed their time-car into the bed. What a weekend it had been. Strange to think he would never see Gillworthy again. He would have to go to retrieve his belongings, say goodbye to Orderly Henze and the few friends he had made, Prepuce Tom, Cassiopeia, Muff and Zee, and move back to a home he had not seen for half a lifetime. It would take some adjustment.
''Hello, Yo-yo,'' whispers a sultry voice in his ear.
''I wondered where you'd got to,'' Yo-yo says crossly. ''I'm going home today. My mother's in town. I might not see you again.''
''Let's go to the abandoned churchyard,'' says Rue, gripping his elbow, ''Where we won't be disturbed.'' Despite the warm sunshine, she is dressed in a brown fur coat that reaches her ankles and has a furry, box-shaped hat perched on her head. Yo-yo knows what lies beneath and cannot help quivering with anticipation.
The redundant Church of St Martin-cum-Gregory is halfway up the ancient street of Micklegate. It is mentioned as the church of St Martin in the Doomsday Book and the present building was probably built in the twelfth century. Certainly parts of the wall date from 1150, although the red-brick tower and large circular clock in black and white iron are certainly more recent adornments. John Trousbutt, the Rector in 1230, added aisles to the interior and in 1585 the parish joined with that of St Gregory's in Barker Lane to form the present 'small parish', which, according to a battered, moss-dotted metal plaque screwed to the gate, 'has contributed an archbishop (of Armagh), 25 sheriffs, 28 lord mayors, 3 county sheriffs & 3 Mps for the city'. Notable features include the tower plinth constructed using masonry from the Roman temple of Mithras which had stood, long ago, on the other side of the road. The crypt is now filled in but there is a priests' chamber at the north-east end, a floreated child's grave to the west and a sculpted Roman monument. Black Jacks (ancient fire buckets) are arranged under the south-west window. The church is well-known for its medieval stained glass and is the burial place of William Peckitt, the most famous glass-painter of the eighteenth century. Born in Husthwaite, Peckitt (1731-1795) painted the central sunburst motif in the Minster's Rose Window as well as the Alma Mater window in the library of Trinity College Cambridge and windows for Oriel and New Colleges Oxford, Lincoln Cathedral, Ripley Castle and Holkham Hall. Interestingly, the windows of this church are mainly made of colourless glass with some simple stained devices discreetly situated in the centre or round the edges. The parish registers date from 1538 and contain records of the Great Plague's devastation of the city. This church of Martin-cum-Gregory is a true repository of history. However, it is not now used and has become a gloomy, dark and empty shell with a damp and musty smell and an atmosphere of forlorn loneliness.
Rue leads Yo-yo through the gate in the black iron railings, up the path and round to the graveyard. There are several slab-stones. ''Sit,'' she says, choosing one under a window. ''Sit and let's talk.''
''What's under your coat?'' Yo-yo says breathlessly.
Rue arches an eyebrow. ''My, aren't we a hasty little puppy today?''
''I told you,'' he says, ''I'm leaving today.'' The clock above his head chimes the quarter-hour.
She puts her hand on his knee. ''Do you have the ring?''
''Yes,'' he lies, gulping as the hand moves up his thigh. ''I love you, Rue,'' he blurts, twisting on the grave-slab to kiss her. She smiles as their lips meet. Yo-yo closes his eyes and loses himself in the moment. Rue smells of sandalwood and lavender, and her lips taste of honey.
''Give me the ring,'' she says softly, ''And you can have this forever. You can be my naughty little sex-slave for the rest of your life.'' He gulps at the vision of himself spread-eagled and tied on Rue's bed naked but for the vanilla ice cream. ''We will live and play together …'' She kisses him again, long and lingering. Their lips part, tongue-tips touch…..he shuts his eyes again, lost in the vision.
Mister Truss looms from the shadows in the graveyard corner. His suit is creased, greased and tattered. His collar sticks out at strange angles and his tie is a rag. His face is soot-stained black. His remaining hair stands up stiffly like a chimney-sweep's brush. He is holding a gun. The cocking of its firing mechanism resounds metallically. Yo-yo and Rue spring apart, Rue somewhat less startled than the boy. Truss points the Walther PPK at Yo-yo's heart.
''So, Yo-yo, we meet again.'' His voice is low, controlled, a hate-filled grate.
''We were only snogging!'' says Yo-yo defensively. ''It isn't a crime.''
''Although she's about twenty years older than you,'' sneers Mister Truss.
''I don't care about that,'' says Yo-yo wildly. ''We love each other.''
''Love.'' Truss spits the word. ''I have been to hell and back because of you. You destroyed my circus, my livelihood, and now I have nothing, not even the knowledge that, when this story is told, I will be the main villain. People will remember Mister Vanilla and Doctor Molasses, but not Truss the circus manager. Oh no. They'll talk about Rue and Mistress Thyme, and Catkin Silver and the Lettuce Brothers, but Truss, who brought them all together, will be forgotten.''
''What do you want?'' Yo-yo keeps his eyes firmly on the Walther PPK's single black eye. ''Immortality? I can give you that….''
''I want the ring,'' says Truss.
''No,'' says Rue, ''It's promised to me.'' She stands up. ''He promised it. You promised it. The ring is to be mine.''
''So sorry, my dear,'' Truss waves the Walther again. ''You think I would give it up again?''
''But I brought him here, I brought him to you…..'' She claps her fingertips to her lips,
so recently kissed.
''What?'' It is Yo-yo's turn to stand up.
''Ha ha,'' laughs Truss, ''She brought you here and with a Judas kiss she hands you to me. How wonderful, how spiteful, how eternally wounding is a woman's betrayal.''
''Is this true?'' Yo-yo confronts her. ''Is it true that all you wanted was my ring?''
Rue lowers her gaze and says nothing.
Yo-yo feels his heart ripped from his body by a pack of rabid dogs.
''Give me the ring,'' snaps Truss.
''I haven't got it,'' Yo-yo mumbles, choking back the tears. ''I gave it away.'' He looks at Rue, half-blinded. He tastes salt. ''I lied to you.''
''Search him,'' says Truss.
Rue shakes her head. ''Search him yourself,'' she says.
Truss bares his teeth. They resemble a broken fence. ''Into the church,'' he snarls, waving the Walther, ''And then we'll see.''
Crying quietly, Yo-yo steps through the door into the cool interior. Blinking in the sudden gloom, he ……
So how does it end? The story thus far is what Yo-yo has told me. But how does it end? He told me one story, Constable Kipper said something different, and as for Rue, she said something quite different again. These are the versions as told to me, and I'll leave you to decide which one is true.
Yo-yo's Weekend Page 39