by Colin Davy
When she merely smiled, he guessed it had been for appearance’s sake. Unless she had a very good memory.
“Yes,” she said. “You can see me again if you like.”
“What? I don’t remember asking,” he said, trying to be firm without being insulting. For some reason, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings; her hard shell might conceal a soft centre.
“But you will ask me,” she said firmly.
“Will I?
She only smiled. “Oh, yes,” she said. “So, you may as well ask now, and the answer is yes.”
He pretended to consider it seriously. Was she on the game? A very unusual street girl if so, yet there was something intriguing about her. An actress? She’d denied it, but she probably would if she were acting a part for some reason. “I’m glad I could help,” he said finally. With a quick wave, he pulled away and turned around in the road, trying not to catch her eye. But he couldn’t resist a quick glance in the rear-view mirror as he drove off.
On the pavement, she smiled and waved slowly.
Chapter Two
The phone call came when Gary least expected it.
He’d almost forgotten the strange girl until Scott’s wife, Sophie, brought up his weekend adventure. Sitting in the Old Oak Tavern the following Tuesday evening, they waited for Scott to return from the bar. “How did your social media baptism turn out on Saturday night, Gaz,” she asked. “Did your internet Wonder Woman live up to expectations?”
He tried not to appear too dismissive, it had been her husband’s idea, and he liked Sophie Sinclair. At thirty-six, she was six months pregnant with her first child and gloriously cheerful. Slightly chubby and proud of it, she treated him like a younger brother who needed guidance, but she never pressed the advice too firmly. A knack he suspected she’d learned from her job as a teacher at the local secondary school.
“So-so,” he said finally.
Taking the tonic from her husband’s hand when he appeared, she sat back with a frown replacing her usual smile. “That bad then?”
He wondered how honest to be. “I wasn’t in the right mood for romance,” he said. “I felt off-colour the next day too.”
“Hangover?” Scott asked, dropping his heavy frame into the chair and passing a beer across.
Taking a sip, Gary gave an appreciative sigh. “No, I think I caught a twenty-four- hour bug on Saturday night,” he said. “Anyway, I wasn’t at my best.” The bug seemed to have lasted, and it was only today he’d begun to feel better. Work had been a trial, especially with the two-day course on something or other. During one of the monotone talks, he remembered feeling very tired.
‘Statistics show hypertension kills more people …’ He woke abruptly, nearly falling off the chair. It wasn’t something to drop his blood pressure he needed, but something to keep him awake. The weather today hadn’t helped his mood - the warm, oppressive temperatures seemed set into the next millennium.
“So, you couldn’t score in a brothel?” Scott asked. “That must be some sort of record?” Although his friend sat forward eagerly, Gary was in no hurry to explain.
Instead he glanced round and considered his options. He could tell Scott to keep his daft ideas to himself in future, but that was unfair. He hadn’t been forced to go ahead with his suggestion. Even Sophie had advised caution, but he’d ignored her, taking it instead as a challenge. “Consider your options carefully,” she’d advised. “Does it suit you?” Frowning, she’d shaken her head ominously. “Sometimes you should examine them all and do none.”
No, he decided, being totally honest now would be far too embarrassing. “I don’t think she fancied me,” he said. “After one look, she lost interest.”
Sophie took another sip from her tonic and shuffled to get comfortable. She looked warm and he wasn’t surprised. Wearing a long dress with what she called ‘wriggle room’ to disguise her baby bump, he wondered why she bothered at all about her appearance. Having been overjoyed by the pregnancy, she now wanted to hide it. He’d never understand women, but her advice generally proved accurate, even if he did ignore a lot of it. “Never mind,” she said. “It happens to us all.”
Despite her fatalism, he doubted it was an experience she encountered too often. She’d struggle to find work as a fashion model, but with intense green eyes to go with bronzed skin, courtesy of a Jamaican grandmother who’d also bequeathed the curvaceous body, she’d never struggle for compliments. Perhaps now she’d put on weight, she’d seen the downsides to pregnancy. “I’ve grown BWs,” she’d confided a week before.
“BWs?” he’d asked.
“Bingo wings,” she’d laughed. “But who cares?”
She didn’t really mind, he decided, and Scott certainly didn’t. Mind you, her husband remained easy-going and scruffy to a fault, committed to wearing a brown tie and white shirt which was always flapping free. Alongside an untrimmed moustache he could have found in a jumble sale, he was no advert for sharp dressing.
“What made you think it was dislike at first sight, Gaz?” Sophie asked.
Oops, here comes the psychoanalysis. “She drank herself into a coma,” he said. “But only after speaking incessantly about her ex-partner.”
“Hmm …” she said. “That’s a clue, but she might have had partner issues anyway.”
Scott laughed lightly. “She probably thought she’d enough demons without adding one more.”
“Shh …” Sophie hissed, before turning to Gary. “Put it behind you and move on,” she said softly. That’s as near as she’d ever come to saying ‘I told you so.’ “There’s always more fish in the sea,” she continued. “Not all will be beautiful mermaids.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “But I don’t see a crop of Disney princesses queuing up to meet me.”
“I expect they don’t need glasses,” Scott said. “But Sophie’s right. After all, tomorrow is another day.”
He suppressed a groan. Scott had an annoying habit of slipping in film quotations, although they were usually more cryptic. “Maybe so,” he said. “But I met an even stranger woman the following day.”
“Oh?” Sophie perked up. “How come?”
“I picked up a hitch-hiker,” he said. “On the motorway.”
Scott frowned. “A sex worker?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“It didn’t feel like that, she was just strange.”
Scott sat back and peered at him. “Was it you or she who was odd?”
It sounded like odd phrasing but with Scott being an English teacher, he suspected he’d have it correct. “She was the one hitching a lift from the hard shoulder,” he said.
“Fair enough.” Scott looked across at his wife. “What do you reckon, Sophe?”
“I think-”
The ring of Gary’s mobile cut across her reply, and after picking it up, he saw the number was a new one.
“Is that Gary, please?” the voice asked when he answered. He recognised it instantly, it was the girl from Southport, the one with the international accent.
“Yes,” he said cautiously. After a quick glance at his companions, he rose to his feet. “I won’t be long,” he whispered with his hand over the mobile. Before they could reply, he moved to the window and turned his back.
“Is it convenient to talk?” the girl asked.
She obviously knew he’d recognised her voice. What was her name? Marcia? No, it was Maria. Shit, he should have given her a wrong number, but he hadn’t thought it through. “Well … not that much,” he said. “Is it important?”
In the short pause, he could hear her hurried breathing.
“To me, it is,” she said.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Sinclairs making no effort to hide their curiosity. “Look,” he said softly. “It’s a bit awkward at the moment, can I get back to you?” To emphasise the point a group of drinkers entered and the noise levels increased threefold.
“Wait,” she called, as if fearful he m
ight hang up. “I’m seriously worried about something and I need advice urgently. Apart from my sister, there’s no one else I can talk to, and she might be involved. You’re the only one who can help.”
The only one? He was caught in two minds. Although she sounded worried, how stable was she? “What’s it about?” he asked.
“The Church.”
He was confused. “What church is this?”
“The Pentecostal Church of Southport.” she said. “We call it the Pentecoastal Church because of the location, and to distinguish it from others.”
Better not comment, he decided, it might be side-splitting mirth for them. “I’ve never heard of it,” he admitted. “Is it new?”
“Very new,” Maria said. “And based so far on new dwellers.”
“New dwellers?” He waited for her to go on but she didn’t. “Do you mean immigrants?”
She gave an intake of breath. “I prefer the term ‘new dwellers’,” she said. “Mostly Aussies with a few Americans.”
“Are you part of the official Pentecostal Church?” he asked.
“Not officially,” she said. “It’s more of a loose association.”
He frowned. “Loose in the sense that that only you know about it?”
She said nothing.
“Where is your church?” he asked.
“We haven’t constructed an actual building yet,” she said. “We’re collecting alms.”
“As in money?”
“Yes.”
“Surely that will cost millions? You’ll need large cheques, not a collection plate of loose coins.” Did that count as advice? He hoped so.
“We know that,” she said with a hint of annoyance. “For now, we meet in members’ houses, and that’s where Keith’s been so helpful by letting us celebrate at his house. He has great plans for us.”
“Keith?”
“He’s the pastor.”
“Is he the problem?”
“No.” When he didn’t comment, she carried on. “It’s the congregation.”
“The congregation at your church?”
“Of course, I mean our congregation,” she said impatiently. “I’m not an ecclesiastical pub-crawler.”
He had to think about that for a moment.
“I can’t tell you any more over the phone,” she said. “I need to explain the background in detail first. Please help me.” The last phrase resonated in his mind but he needed time to think. “Maria, I will ring back, I promise, but I can’t do it now. Sit tight and I’ll ring you back in half an hour at the latest.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll wait for your call.”
After she’d rung off, he walked slowly back to the table, deep in thought. He could see only two options - block any more calls from her, or do as he had promised. Well, the female equivalent of Sigmund Freud might be useful here, even if her husband wouldn’t be.
“Sophie,” he said when he’d retaken his seat. “I may have cocked up.”
“Oh?” She sighed. “What have you done?”
“I’m not sure.”
She glanced at her husband before replying. “Is it about that phone call?”
Gary nodded.
“And?”
“It’s from the girl I gave a lift to at the weekend.”
“Ah,” she said. “It wasn’t to give you belated thanks then?”
“No.”
“What did she want?”
“She wants advice,” he said.
When she gave a brief frown, he wondered why. “She claims she has serious problems,” he said. “Apart from a sister who can’t help, because she might be involved, she has no other relatives here. They’re both new to this country.”
“This help,” Scott asked. “Is it financial?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure?”
“I think so.”
“And she’s asking you?” His face and tone both betrayed his incredulity. “You? Gary Maddison?”
“Don’t be so disbelieving?” Sophie said. “Beneath that gruff exterior beats a romantic heart, even if it’s well-hidden.” She pretended to peer closely. “He’s handsome in a quirky way,” she continued. “I suppose you could call it a kind face.”
“Kind of ugly,” Scott said. “I expect women like that sort of rugged look. But advice? Gary?”
“He’s right Sophe,” he said, “Why ask me?”
Scott smiled. “Exactly.”
“I hardly know the girl,” Gary said. “A forty-minute drive during which we said very little.”
Sophie sat back and her eyes narrowed. “I think you need to tell me what happened during this short ride.”
“Fine,” he said, but it wasn’t fine. Going over the details of the short car ride, it seemed even more peculiar than it had at the time. “When she got out and asked for my phone number, I gave it without thinking,” he said.
“That was brainless,” Scott said.
“Possibly,” he admitted
Scott nodded. “At least you didn’t give her your address.”
“Ah,” he said. “I did mention I lived at the Duncan docks, but no more than that.”
“Hmm …” Scott wasn’t impressed.
“She claims her sister lives there.”
Scott’s smile showed his doubts. “So, what about this latest call?” Scott asked. “Did she give any clue as to the nature of this advice?”
“Only briefly,” he said. “She didn’t want to discuss too much over the phone.”
“What did she say?” Sophie asked.
“It was to do with some odd Church,” he said. “Or rather the congregation. She thinks something funny is going on, and I think she wants me to check it out.”
Although Sophie’s eyes narrowed, he could tell she was interested; possibly the Church connection had piqued her curiosity. “What Church is this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s a new one, some sort of cult, I expect.”
She frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Not really,” he admitted.
She shuffled again, moving her hips as if her underwear was too tight. “She wants a complete stranger to help?” she asked. “One who knows nothing about the Church or its people?”
“It’s what she said.”
“Tread carefully, Gaz.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to.”
“Good,” she said. “Did she give you any more clues?”
“No, she said she needed to tell me more, but not over the phone.”
Sophie nodded, as if this made sense. It might do to her, he thought, but not to him. “And she has only the one sister and no friends?” Sophie added.
“That’s what she said.”
Scott made a disbelieving noise in his throat, “It sounds suspicious,” he said and shook his head. “Once you gave her a lift and your telephone number, you became her knight in shining armour. Bad move, she’s got you down as gullible.”
Sophie’s brow wrinkled. “You may have to meet her, Gaz,” she said. “You’re given her your number. If you’re not careful, you might end up with a stalker. Have you thought about that?”
“No,” he said. “But thanks for the good news.”
“Assuming it isn’t a scam,” she continued. “The girl might be very vulnerable. Would you sleep soundly knowing she might do something silly if you refuse to meet her ….” She left the sentence unfinished.
“Of course, he would,” Scott said confidently. “It’s her problem, not Gary’s.” He turned to Gary. “Have nothing to do with her, mate.”
“Shush.” Sophie clearly wasn’t impressed with his analysis. “Gary,” she said, “Consider this carefully. If you meet her, do it on your terms.” When she called him Gary, and not Gaz, he knew she was being deadly serious. “Whatever you do, don’t give her your exact address. Go and see her, but take someone else with you.” She noticed the expression on
his face. “No, not me, I’m busy with other things as you can see. And not Scott, he’ll only make matters worse. Take that posh scally mate of yours, the one who claimed he went to Cambridge, he’ll be fine. I don’t like him but he's hard-headed and practical.”
“You mean Raif?”
She nodded. “Whatever he calls himself, he’s the one.”
He nodded “I’ll ring back and see if I can put her off gently.” He sighed. “But why me, I still don’t understand that.”
Scott smiled briefly. “It’s because you’re here, lad, no one but you.”
At his frown, Scott’s smile widened. “You’ve not seen the film?” he asked.
“Not as far as I know.”
“It’s from ‘Zulu’.”
Gary nodded. “I’ve heard of it,” he said. “Nineteen sixty-four or thereabouts?”
“Spot on, Gaz.”
“It’s before my time.”
Scott shook his head. “That’s not allowed.”
Gary rose to his feet and finished his pint. “I’ll get home and ring the girl from the flat. She’ll be fretting until I do.”
“Then ring her now,” Sophie said firmly. “Use the beer garden, it should be quiet.”
Why not? “OK, I’ll ring you later to let you know the result.”
“Make sure you do,” she said, leaning forward and waiting until he kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Bye, Scott” he called and left, walking quickly towards the beer garden. As Sophie had predicted, it was empty, and after finding a chair, he rang the girl’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Gary?” She sounded breathless.
“Yes,” he said. “Are you alright?”
“I am now you’re returned my call.”
She sounded upset. “I said I would call,” he said. “I’ll try to pop over to Southport when I can, but I can’t promise.”
“Please try,” she said. “I waited as long as possible to call you.” Her sigh echoed down the line. “I know I shouldn’t have bothered you, but this is vital.” He was relieved to hear her more even tones. “I wanted to ring you earlier,” she added.
“Oh?”