Millie's Game Plan

by Rosie Dean

Everything he said made sense, but it was frightening how vulnerable I felt. All the adrenalin had now dissipated and the full horror of what could have happened began to dawn. I started trembling, and the trembling accelerated to shaking until I was juddering like an old washing machine on spin cycle.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Josh said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and squeezing my hand. ‘You’re okay. We’re both absolutely fine. And we’re safe.’

  I’ve already mentioned one of his most appealing qualities is his voice, but it became particularly soft and soothing as he continued to talk me through my fears until, gradually, I calmed down. I leaned into him and absorbed the warmth and safety of his arms, and focused on his hand wrapped around mine; the slightly squared nails, and the curved muscle at the base of his thumb; the tone and texture of his skin more weathered than mine. How might those hands feel, touching other parts of me? As I felt my insides begin to melt, he said, ‘The worst thing that can happen is spending the night in St Saviour’s crypt.’

  ‘True.’ My voice came out thick and croaky.

  ‘And how bad is that?’ Right at that moment, not bad in the slightest. ‘It’s a listed building. You could do worse. At Romwick, you’d have to listen to the traffic on the by-pass, all night.’

  I giggled. He was right. There were far worse things than having a warm strong arm round your shoulders and absolutely no risk of Sacha or Serena muscling in to take the limelight.

  Serena. That brought me back to reality. In any case, Serena or no Serena, I was not intending to form an alliance with a vicar. No matter how he might be making me feel at that moment.

  I edged away from him a little. ‘Thanks. I think I’m getting a better perspective on it now.’

  ‘Good.’ His arm slid away from me and he gave my hand a final squeeze before letting go.

  I stood up and began to investigate our surroundings, which were pretty much what you’d expect in a crypt. My greatest discovery was a fire bucket full of sand…I hoped it wouldn’t become essential but it beat peeing in the corner. Josh had slumped back against the wall, eyes closed. He was breathing steadily so I decided to let him sleep. He needed to rest…for a while, anyway. If he was still out when it got dark, I would rouse him for another medical check.

  I bunched up the petticoats and skirt behind me for cushioning, and sat next to him. Through the gate I could see the evening sunlight playing on the carvings of the font. It was nearly six-thirty; the orchestra would be tuning up, the pink champagne flowing and, with any luck, Lex and Serena would soon be starting to worry.

  In sleep, Josh’s face was relaxed. I studied the angular line of his jaw and the faint shadow of stubble beneath. Tilting my head, I checked his scar. Cluedo analogies apart – if they’d hit him harder or a bit lower…I shuddered and swallowed down the realisation. My hand strayed to the crook of his arm and settled there, drawing comfort from its warmth.

  After a few minutes of contemplation, I switched on my phone, selected Patience from the Games menu and began to play.

  On a clear summer’s evening, the light can last till about ten o’clock, so when it dimmed dramatically, I checked the time. It wasn’t even eight o’clock so maybe the trees were blocking out the light. Suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightening nearly shot me from my skin and seconds later, a deep rumble of thunder resonated through the building.

  ‘Whoa!’ I yelped, thrusting my arm through Josh’s and huddling up against him.

  He groaned and grimaced as he lifted his head away from the wall, rubbing his neck with his free hand. ‘What…what’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a thunderstorm. And we’re still locked in the crypt.’

  He squinted at me through sleepy eyes. Two fine lines briefly gathered between his brows then softened. Despite this disturbing moment under his scrutiny, I couldn’t look away. Finally, he murmured, ‘Don’t like thunder, hey?’

  Anxiety had driven me to snuggle up to him. Now, the intimacy was unnerving me in a totally different way. My response was whispered. ‘Normally, I don’t mind. But in the context of a Transylvanian tomb, thunderstorms have a whole different significance.’

  He looked around the crypt as another flash illuminated the chamber with fleeting silver rays. I jumped at the clap of thunder which followed and he instinctively clamped my arm to him and put a hand over it.

  As the sound rumbled away, he said, ‘Some people would pay good money to do this. Look how popular ghost walks are.’

  ‘Don’t say that word.’

  ‘You believe in them, then?’ he asked, those two brow lines lifting as he looked me in the eye.

  ‘Yes.’ I hissed. ‘And on a scale of one to ten, I’d say this location rates about eleven for probability of manifestation. So let’s not tempt any.’

  ‘Have you ever seen a ghost?’ he asked with irritating persistence.

  ‘No.’ I raised my voice, ‘And I’m happy to keep it that way.’

  He nodded slowly, like he was weighing me up.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Josh, you can laugh if you want, but I’m relying on your celestial connections to protect me from restless spirits, okay?’

  I leaned away from him and got up, on the pretext of wanting a drink. As I lifted the bottle to my lips, a simultaneous flash and thunderclap shook the foundations and me with them – jolting a hefty splash of water up my nose. After the shock, I began to laugh – at the absurdity of our predicament, at my voluminous skirt, and at a man in a long black dress sitting on the floor, who was laughing with me and drawing me in with his charisma.

  That sobered me up. Apart from already being taken, he didn’t…I mean he couldn’t…well, he wasn’t right for me. I’d had a basin-full of religious dogma in my life, I didn’t need a future full of it with him. And in any case, Lex ticked all my boxes.

  I wiped my face and looked away, in case I might reveal what I was thinking because, despite my reasoning, I was fast-forwarding through a scenario where I was down on that floor and snaking my body along his; planting my lips on his mouth; peeling off both our dresses and not letting go till I was thoroughly satiated. Clearly, Lex had revved me up to such a pitch, I’d jump anyone’s bones.

  ‘Millie.’

  I turned. He was holding his hand out to me and – well, you know how it goes – there was a split second between me making a complete arse of myself, and realising that what he actually wanted was the bottle of water. A vision of how he would have reacted if I had taken his hand and straddled him – right there, right then – made me blush. I passed him the water bottle and sat on the steps by the gate.

  The storm lasted about twenty minutes, no doubt leaving in its wake some very soggy concert-goers and a host of ruined barbecues. ‘Think of all those poor people at Clavering,’ I said, imagining Serena and Lex huddled together under an umbrella.

  ‘I told you it could be worse,’ he said, with the hint of a smile.

  ‘Fancy some music?’ I asked, switching on my phone and selecting audio player.

  We sat listening to my eclectic playlist – from Mariah Carey, through Snow Patrol to South Pacific. When I sang along to Bali-Hi, he joined in with an impressive harmony, so for my next selection, I skipped to All That Jazz from Chicago, and he joined in on that too. We had a hoot, warbling away to a rather tinny-sounding accompaniment. The acoustics were amazing and it sure beat talking about Clavering and all we were missing there.

  Finally, the battery gave up the ghost, so-to-speak, and we were left in the silence and the dark to contemplate another eight or nine hours together. Despite our enthusiastic singing, not a solitary soul had tried the church door.

  Faint moonlight illuminated the church but its rays barely reached further than the gate. I could just make out Josh’s features. Singing and occasionally making silly dance moves had kept me warm. Now, with no sunshine and the humidity of a brewing storm long-gone, I shivered and tucked my knees up under my skir
t and wondered how much colder it might get.

  ‘You cold?’ Josh asked.

  ‘No.’

  He got up and stretched, touching the ceiling as he did so. As he walked over to the gate to look through it, he brought his warmth with him. I must have reacted, because the next moment, he was touching my arm with the back of his hand. ‘You are cold, Millie. Here,’ and he began unbuttoning his dress.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to take off your…’

  ‘Cassock. And yes, I do. I’m not cold.’

  ‘You will be if you take that off.’

  As the cassock opened, I could tell he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. His perfectly shaped legs were lit by the moonlight – athletic and not too hairy. As he undressed, he released all the potent scents of a warm, healthy, virile man – blended with the clean, citrus notes of cologne. The universe really wasn’t playing fair with me. I couldn’t not look at him.

  ‘What if you get cold?’ I asked.

  ‘Then, we can share it. Here,’ he said, offering a hand to help me up.

  I wondered if he had any idea how much he was affecting me. Then I noticed the lower half of a tattoo on his upper arm. Well, that settled it. Tattoos were an absolute no-no on my wish list. They made a person look so untidy. Any one with leanings towards self-mutilation and body art was never going to father my children.

  He handed me the cassock and, as I pulled it around me and felt his warmth in the fabric, I nearly moaned. ‘Thank you, that feels…really cosy.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Pleasure… I sat back down. Just the word alone conjured up some unsettling images. So to take my mind off them I blurted out, ‘Why did you become a vicar?’

  He sat on the step next to me, elbows resting on his knees, hands linked loosely between them. ‘I don’t suppose you’d let me get away with saying it was a calling, would you?’

  ‘That’d make it a pretty short conversation, and we’ve got hours to kill.’

  He nodded and began to tell me his story. There’d been no soft upbringing, no indulgent parenting or a long line of religious ancestors. His mother had been killed in a car accident when he was six, and his father died of cancer four years later. His grandparents had taken him in but not been able to handle the anger and frustration that erupted when he reached adolescence. He’d hung around on the fringes of youth crime, drinking and smoking dope at every opportunity, and skipped any lesson he didn’t like, which only left PE, English and Music. In his own words, he was ‘one screwed-up kid.’ As a last resort, his grandfather had arranged for him to go on a month’s outward bound course, where he’d figured taking Josh away from his mates and putting him through the strict, physical regime, might sort him out. Instead, Josh had slipped out of camp to look for something more exciting in the nearest town, only to get involved with an even worse crowd.

  ‘I went away for a month and disappeared for a year.’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Where’d you go?’

  ‘Nowhere. Just moved from one squat to another. The longer it went on, the worse I felt about myself. The worse I felt, the less incentive I had to go home.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  He turned and smiled at me. ‘I saw a ghost.’

  ‘Kidding?’

  ‘Not just any ghost…my mother.’

  ‘Didn’t you think it was the drugs messing with your head?’

  ‘I didn’t care. She was standing on the steps of a building in the town. Whatever state I was in, I wanted to get close to her. When I did, she smiled and walked into the building. Instinctively, I followed.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  He shrugged. ‘I went in. She’d gone, of course, but an old guy called Lucas greeted me. I’d walked into a homeless shelter. He made sure I got a meal, a shower and slept in a proper, clean bed. I slept for two days.’

  I imagined I might do the same myself, once I got out of the crypt. ‘Did Lucas contact your grandparents?’

  ‘No. I told them I had no family. I was a mess – and ashamed. Lucas and the shelter team sorted me out. They were really good people and as I cleaned up my act, I wanted to know why they were so good – you know, what made them want to give up their spare time to help wasters like me.’

  ‘So, you started going to church with them?’

  He chuckled. ‘No. I started giving them a hard time, too. Testing them. And always, they treated me in the same calm way. They treated me with love – until eventually, I wanted to know where this love came from…and then I went to church with them.’

  ‘And that was it?’

  ‘No. Eventually, I went home on my seventeenth birthday. Re-did a year at school to get my GCSEs; went on to sixth form college and signed on at Southampton University…I felt I owed it to my grandparents to stay local.’

  ‘They must have been so pleased to have you back.’

  ‘Most of the time, but I could still be a pain in the neck.’

  ‘And you became a vicar, because...?’

  ‘Because…’ he drew a deep breath. ‘I went to Uni, and life there was an absolute blast; parties on every corridor, cheap drink nights in town, binges in the park…and believe me, I was lapping it all up – although common sense kept me off the drugs. I’d seen a friend die from a bad dose, I didn’t want to go the same route. Anyway, in my second year, I found myself at a party where nearly everyone was off their faces on something. I got up, walked out and the next day, signed up as a volunteer to help at the local night shelter. And it brought back everything Lucas had done for me. So then I started going to church again and decided the Big Guy upstairs had done so much for me, I wanted to use my life to help other people.’

  ‘Did you ever see your mum again?’

  He said softly, ‘I don’t think I needed to.’

  We sat in silence for a moment or two. ‘You had a tough time. Thanks for telling me.’ I put my hand out to touch his arm. ‘Jeez! Now you’re cold.’ I exclaimed, completely shattering the atmosphere. ‘Here, it’s your turn for the cassock.’ Now there was a phrase I never thought I’d say. I stood up and took it from around my shoulders. He stood too.

  ‘That’s just daft. You’re going to get cold now.’

  ‘Maybe we can wrap it round us both?’

  We tried, but there wasn’t a lot of cassock to go round two people.

  ‘Let’s try this,’ Josh said, sitting on the floor against the wall. ‘You sit here,’ he patted to the space between his parted legs. ‘I’ll wear the cassock and then you lean into me, and I’ll keep you warm.’

  I looked at the space…and his legs…and tried not to think about what was at the junction of them. The option was to spend many hours being miserably cold.

  Tough choice.

  Before I sat down, I shuffled out of my huge satin and net underskirt. ‘We can bunch this up to sit on.’

  And that’s how we spent most of the following hours. It actually became quite cosy. If it hadn’t been for hunger, thirst and a backside totally devoid of feeling, I’d have been pretty reluctant to move. It was so easy to chat, leaning up against Josh, with his cheek resting against the side of my head. I discovered he wasn’t a full-time vicar but in the week, ran a programme for homeless and disconnected youth in London. So, even if Sacha and I had scoured every pub in the locality, on weekday nights he was usually in the city. ‘So, how come you do weddings and live in the vicarage – if you’re not actually a vicar?’

  ‘I’m what they call a Non Stipendiary Minister. I’m qualified, I just haven’t opted in to full ministry yet.’

  ‘So, did you study theology at Uni?’

  ‘First time round, I did music.’

  ‘Instrument?’

  ‘Saxophone.’

  ‘Geddaway.’

  He chuckled. ‘Someone has to.’

  ‘I’d love to hear you play.’

  ‘Well, first weekend in August we’re running a charity jazz festival. It won’t be up to Clas
sics at Clavering standards – more of a real ale do – but you could bring a bunch of friends along.’

  I noticed he didn’t suggest Lex.

  We talked about everything, from pets and cooking, to homelessness and our families – particularly my dad. ‘He was only fifty-eight when he died…felled by a massive and unexpected brain haemorrhage while invigilating a GCSE exam in the school gym.’ I could feel a familiar ache binding my throat. ‘He was such a comedian, half the kids laughed till they realised he wasn’t clowning around.’ I tried to smile. ‘He would never have wanted them to witness…’ and that was it. The blubbing started. Josh just held me tighter and told me what a privilege and a blessing it was to have had such a great dad. When I sniffed, he gave my head the lightest of kisses, which fuelled my libido and seemed to melt my bones. I’d been so long deprived of a man, I might do anything. It was all very confusing.

  ‘How long have you been going out with Serena?’ I asked – it being the closest I’d get to giving myself a cold shower.

  His head lifted away from mine. I guessed his conscience was pricking him. ‘Serena isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my cousin.’

  ‘Oh.’ Oh! So, whilst she was no obstacle between me and Josh, much worse, there was absolutely nothing to stop her using her abundant charms on Lex. I could just imagine them; two tall, beautifully elegant people – who already knew each other – getting reacquainted at Clavering. And I well remembered Lex’s low opinion of Josh. Damn! I shifted slightly, loosening Josh’s grip on me. ‘I assumed you were an item.’

  ‘Understandable. We’re pretty close. When she doesn’t have a date, she calls on me – which is why I was at Dominic’s dinner.’

  ‘I’m amazed she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s so gorgeous. Is there nobody on the horizon?’ Was there any risk of her pinching Lex?

  ‘Right now, I think she’s more concerned with her business.’

  ‘So, you were all in the same crowd at Uni…’

  ‘Not exactly but I knew them. Serena knew them better.’

  I remembered Lex saying Josh wasn’t his ‘kind of chap’. And it seemed Josh would say exactly the same about Lex. ‘What was Lex like, back then?’