by Ivan B
“He’ll see you now, but he’s only got ten minutes,” she said rolling her eyes as if to say that he probably had all afternoon.
Peter walked in and did not realize that he was already clenching his fists.
“Hello Peter old man” said Freddy with his usual false bonhomie, “What can I do for you?”
Peter didn’t sit down.
“I’ll come straight to the point. There’s no easy way of saying this, but if you took advantage of Jo when you got drunk together you may have Chlamydia”.
“Not now,” sneered Freddy. “I did have Chlamydia, but I got rid of it.”
“And you didn’t tell Jo?”
“Why should I? Her life is her responsibility; I don’t know how many men she sleeps with do I?”
If he’d stopped there Peter may have been able to control himself, but Freddy ploughed on.
“And if you’re thinking of sleeping with her you’d better wear a wet suit old boy…”
Freddy didn’t finish the sentence because Peter hit him. Peter had never hit anyone in his life, but he hit Freddy, and hit him hard. He knocked Freddy clear over his desk and into the corner. Freddy just lay on the floor clutching his bloody nose and swearing a series of profanities one after the other. Peter heard a movement behind him and turned round; it was his secretary; Peter was right, when she smiled she was indeed pretty.
“It’s about time someone did that to him” she said.
Freddy whined from behind his desk.
“He hit me, he hit me, and did you see that he hit me!”
“Must’ve fallen over” sniffed the girl; “You drink enough.”
“You’re fired,” Freddy shouted.
“Too late” she replied, “Have you forgotten I’m working out my notice, I don’t like being groped and I don’t like being groped by a toad like you.”
She looked at Peter.
“They don’t call him Freddy the philanderer for nothing!”
Peter had nothing further to say to Freddy so he followed her out of the office.
When he had closed the door the girl said to him.
“I’d like to know which church you’re from”
“Why?”
She laughed, “If that’s your method of pastoral visiting your sermons must be a wow.”
“They bring the house down,” he replied.
Peter went to leave, but a sudden thought struck him.
“Did Kimberley work here?” He asked.
“Not here, she worked on reception, but old Freddy in there used to leer at her as if she was his personal piece of totty.”
“Excuse me,” said Peter, “and walked back into Freddy’s office, firmly closing the door behind him. Freddy had been on his way out, but seeing Peter he quickly retreated behind his desk. Peter walked up to the other side of the desk and leaned over, sometimes being tall gave you an unfair advantage. Freddy looked at him apprehensively.
“Going to hit me again? Well I’m not going to turn the other cheek.”
He picked up a paper knife.
“And then there’s Kimberley,” Peter said menacingly,
Freddy did his best to smirk, but somehow the blood running from his nose spoiled the effect.
“You’re guessing. Just because some young tart in reception gets pregnant I get the blame.”
Peter said through clenched teeth.
“Fancy a paternity test?”
Freddy laughed.
“She’ll never ask for one.”
“I guess not. I suppose you threatened that you’d get Damian the sack.”
Freddy just grinned. Peter thumped the desk.
“But I suspect your wife would want to know.”
“You leave her out of this!”
They glared at each other across the desk. Eventually Peter said in an even tone.
“You are right, I am just guessing, and if Kimberley won’t name you I can’t really do anything.”
Freddy relaxed, Peter went in for the kill.
“But I might share my guesses with a few people down the local supermarket unless I see that you really want to do the best for your staff.”
Freddy was completely lost. “Eh?” Was all he could manage.
Peter smiled what he hoped was a sinister smile.
“For instance, I noticed the other day that the warden’s house by the old almshouses in the old town is currently empty. Wouldn’t it be a nice gesture on your part if it were offered to Kimberley at a reasonable rent?”
Freddy laughed, “Not in a million years.”
Peter sighed.
“At least I tried. Goodbye. Oh, do you need any shopping; I’m going to the supermarket on my way home.”
Freddy glared at him.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Care to try me?” said Peter.
“I’ll sue you for slander.”
Peter smiled again.
“Do you really fancy a court case and a mandatory paternity test?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Peter walked to the door.
“Don’t think about it too long, I go shopping on Fridays.”
He stopped at the door.
“And when I say a reasonable rent I mean reasonable for them on a nice long term contract that is not tied into Damian’s employment.”
“Don’t want much do you?” said Freddy trying to belatedly show some bravado.
Peter wagged a finger.
“Be sure, your sins will find you out. It’s your choice: let me air your sins or provide some recompense,”
As he opened the door he detected a slight movement, but when it was fully open, and he opened it slowly, the secretary was behind her desk looking intently at her computer screen. Peter walked to his Land Rover and sat in the driving seat. He could not believe that he had both just hit a man and then blackmailed him into giving Kimberley and Damian cheap accommodation. What sort of vicar was he turning into?
He didn’t go directly home, or to the supermarket, but drove to a little garage outside Woodbridge that specialized in Land Rovers and other 4x4s. He explained what he wanted and drove away in a Suzuki Vitara. When he eventually got home, Jo was busy in the kitchen; she’d raided the freezer and was cooking them a stir-fry for two. Danielle was apparently already in London with Louise. Over dinner Peter told her about hitting Freddy and she told him about Philip. They talked for about two hours by which time she knew all about his family and his call to the priesthood, and he knew about her struggle to bring up Danielle as a surrogate single mum. He dropped her home at about eleven in the evening. Before she got out of the car he cleared his throat in a sort of apprehensive manner.
“Are you working tomorrow? With Danielle away I wondered if you, I mean we, could have a sort of holiday at home. I could easily clear most of my weekday diary.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“I’ve got to work tomorrow, but I can get Janice to cover for me the rest of the week, so yes”
“Tomorrow night” said Peter somewhat shyly; “There is a double bill of Humphrey Bogart on at Aldeburgh cinema, the African Queen and Casablanca.”
He didn’t finish as she nodded.
“Have to pick you up about six OK?”
“Fine” and she hesitated, “What’s happened to the Land Rover?”
“It’s being serviced, this is just a courtesy car” this was stretching the truth somewhat, but the Land Rover was having a service and anyway she would see the results in due time.
He escorted her to her door, and they kissed goodnight. It took some time.
Chapter 16
Decision Time
The following morning Peter was back in the church for a very special service - Muriel and Roger’s wedding. They were adamant that they wanted a quiet mid-week no frills wedding. So there was only himself, Muriel and Roger, Bryan, Mark, and Henry present. There were no hymns and no music. Peter read through the wedding service slowly and steadily. Muriel and Roger were o
bviously very happy that their relationship was now being put on a firm footing. The whole wedding took less than thirty minutes. Afterwards Muriel and Roger took Peter and Bryan to the Felburgh Hotel for a wedding lunch. The afternoon was spent re-arranging his diary, there were obviously some things he could not shift, like council meetings, but what he could move or dump he did. That evening Peter arrived outside Jo’s at exactly six o’clock. Jo appeared at the door almost instantly and walked down the path. Peter could not believe what he was seeing. She was wearing a pink dress with a white cardigan and high-heeled pink shoes. As she got in the car he couldn’t help but notice that nearly all the face jewelry had gone; just four pieces were left; a pair of drop earrings, a high earring in her left ear and a small nose stud. They kissed briefly and he took her to Aldeburgh. They ate on the way at a small restaurant and arrived at the cinema just on time. Aldeburgh only has a small cinema, but it has character. One of the features is that the back row consists of double seats; Jo and Peter chose one of these and enjoyed the nearness of each other as they watched the films. It was soon apparent to Peter that the films captivated Jo and apart from putting his arm around her he didn’t try anything else. During the break, as they were eating their obligatory ice cream Peter noticed someone staring at them. It took him sometime to place her, but in the end thought that she was the Major’s sister in law. He thought to himself ‘the jungle drums will be beating tonight’. They took their time on the drive home and sat for a while parked up on the heath. They did canoodle for a time, but mainly they held hands and talked.
As Peter finally drew the Vitara up outside Jo’s house it had begun to rain.
“Don’t see me to the door Peter” she laughed “There’s no need for us to get soaking wet”.
Peter kissed her goodnight, but instead of letting her go he held her hands.
“Jo remember we said total honesty”
“Yes.”
“I can’t let you go without asking; the jewelry?”
Jo looked at him.
“It’s no big deal.”
Peter looked at her.
She said quietly.
“If I’m going to be a Vicar’s moll I thought I’d better look respectable.”
“Respectable by whose standards?” Asked Peter. “I don’t want you to change to conform to what other people impose on us, and I don’t want you to change because you think I want you to change. I just want you to be you and be comfortable being you.”
Jo was quiet for a while.
“Remember I told you my face jewelry and make-up was my mask. I don’t want to need that mask with you and I don’t want to embarrass you either.”
“ And remember that I said I’d be proud to have you on my arm anywhere,” Replied Peter. “There are no conditions to that. If you turned up covered in Zulu paint I’d still be proud,”
“I must try that sometime,” Jo chuckled and then she became more serious; “I’d like to try a few combinations. I’ll probably wear it all during the day at work, but this week with you I’d like to try a few combinations.”
She looked at him full in the eyes.
“I believe you when you say it doesn’t matter to you, but how a girl looks and feels is important to her. I want to feel I look right and be right in how I feel.”
Peter kissed her and she leapt out the car and scurried up the path.
The following morning when he called for Jo. she told him that it was time she took him to her world and led him to her little shop near the sea front. Between the town centre and the sea at Felburgh are a number of small alleyways; Jo’s shop was in one of them. There was actually a small parade of three shops with Victorian shop fronts which Peter had not seen before, probably because you could not drive or cycle past. The shop nearest the town was a small hairdresser and in the window were the usual pictures on different styles. There was also a small sign, which read ‘We do not undertake ear or body piercing; but the shop next door does; we prefer to leave it to the experts.’
Jo saw Peter reading it and said softly.
“It works both ways, you’d be amazed at how many women like a full body massage and then have their hair done. We do a special double package between us.” She grinned, “We also do a special bridal package. Turn up three hours before the wedding and we’ll give you an all over massage, a superb hairstyle plus a makeover, and provide a wedding bouquet from over there”, and she indicated the back of a florists which must have had its front in the next alleyway.
They walked past Jo’s shop to the last of the three shops; it was a small jeweler.
“This is Mr. Hudson’s” she explained. “I normally call him old Mr. Hudson, but I think he’s about the same age as you!”
They looked in the window for a little while discussing the items in the window display.
“It’s been a Godsend having him here because it means I do not have to carry too much stock, Jo explained. “I can always come and get the rings and studs I need from him and settle up at the end of the month.”
She then led him across the alleyway so he could see the full frontage of all the shops. The sign above Jo’s shop displayed ‘We don’t do Men’ in large copperplate lettering, underneath in smaller writing it added ‘Body enhancement and massage for Women’.
“Is that true, you only serve women?” Peter asked.
“Oh yes, Anna and I decided that when we started the shop. Our solicitor told us that this might be illegal under various parts of European Law and that we could not display a notice that said ‘No Men’, but he also said that we could name the shop what we liked within copyright law, hence the name.”
Peter wandered over and looked in the window; there was a list of services offered and some illustrations, including a small group of eight photographs. Peter studied them and then suddenly realized what he was looking at; he’d seen three of the tattoos illustrated on Jo’ arms. Peter pointed to the photographs.
“Yes those are all me,” Jo said softly. “When we first started we desperately needed some illustrations of Anna-Marie’s work, we tried using henna but it didn’t look right. I already had two of Anna-Marie’s tattoos and three more just came over the first few months. The last three are Daphne’s handiwork”
“There’s no illustration of your work,” he said.
Jo said coyly.
“I use myself as the illustration.”
Peter looked at the photographs again; there were parts of Jo’s anatomy on display that somehow he rather weren’t, he suddenly realized that he was becoming possessive. He tore his eyes away from the photographs and noticed a sign on the door; it offered a language translation service for French, German, Italian, Spanish and Japanese.
“You didn’t tell me that you spoke Japanese” Peter remarked.
“I speak a little,” she said, but Daphne is Franco-Japanese and can speak and write it fluently.”
“Do you get much work?”
“It comes and goes, mostly goes since the arrival of the Internet and business being conducted increasingly in English. Mark you, I am thinking of offering American-English translations” she laughed. “But we have just got another contract to translate some of those multi-lingual instruction leaflets, someone’s got to do it!”
“How did you get that?” asked Peter quite amazed
“We wrote to some Japanese firms, in Japanese, telling them how awful their booklets were and saying that they marred the image of excellent products. We also included some examples of how we thought they should be.”
“And it worked?”
“We got three contracts in three months.”
Jo started to lead Peter towards the door when she stopped.
“I ought to warn you about Daphne, she can be,” she stopped to find the right words, “Quite unconventional.”
Peter looked at Jo and thought that if Jo calls her unconventional just what was he going to meet? Once inside Daphne appeared from the back. She was short, about Jo’s age, and immacu
late. She was dressed in a white dress, bordered by a lace fringe that fell just below the knees with a matching three string pearl necklace and pearl bracelet. She had no tattoos, no earrings and would have passed for a boarding school headmistress. Daphne and Jo hugged each other. Daphne approached Peter and kissed him on both cheeks.
“Hello Peter; I’ve heard all about you and wondered if Jo would ever have the courage to bring you here. Which buttock did you want tattooed?”
Peter couldn’t help laughing. Daphne grinned and went out the back to make some coffee while Jo showed Peter around. The shop floor was divided into two halves. On the left was a large make-up type dressing table with light bulbs all around the mirror and what Peter assumed was a tattooing machine beside it. On the other side was an identical dressing table, but this time on the dressing table top was a selection of studs, rings and other body-piercing paraphernalia. Hanging above this dressing table was a large portrait of Danielle. Peter glanced back to Daphne’s table, above that was a family portrait of Daphne, her husband and four children. In between the two halves was a trolley that was laden with more different colours of nail varnish and fingernail paint than Peter thought possible. In the rear of the shop was a large playpen about 8’ square and filled a good selection of clean toys. Jo led Peter down the narrow corridor of off which came two rooms containing massage tables and bottles of various liquids. At the end of the corridor there was a toilet, a small kitchen, a cupboard containing a large sterilization unit, and a cubicle containing a computer with a 17” monitor and the largest keyboard Peter had ever seen.
“It’s a keyboard for typing Japanese,” said Jo.
“I thought you were translating from Japanese,” said Peter
“Sometimes”, said Jo, “Other times we receive the original notes in French or English. Usually Daphne translates French-Japanese and vice versa and I do all the other languages.”
Peter was getting more and more astonished. It wasn’t that he thought Jo was uneducated, or inept, he just hadn’t realized that she also had a business head on her shoulders.
“Do you rent the shop” he asked.
Jo looked embarrassed.