by Laura Marney
The old ladies work fast and rhythmically to prepare the café food. In the same way that they dance together, the Golden Belles now cook together as if performing a ballet. One moves forward to the cooker as another steps back to the sink. Onions and cabbages are lobbed and caught over synchronised ducked heads. Within half an hour they are on the stage tying on their tap shoes.
Maria is left in charge of the simmering soup pots but she can see the stage from the kitchen door and she stands leaning against it with her arms folded. Her mobile phone isn’t holding a charge though she had it plugged in overnight. She turns it on again to check for any missed calls. There are none so she turns it off again to conserve energy. As more performers arrive she now concentrates on looking for Ronald. Watching. Watching everything, every little move and gesture of everybody. Waiting, for someone to say or do something that will expose what the hell is really going on in this church.
‘Don’t bother with costumes, we haven’t got time,’ says Alice. ‘There’ll be a chance to get the full kit on at the dress rehearsal.’
As she says this she hitches up her dress and overall and tucks them into the legs of her knickers, creating a puffball skirt effect. Alice has a fantastic pair of legs and she can certainly move them. She taps out a complicated rhythm as she flies across the stage. From this distance, with her long white ponytail and red lipstick, she could be thirty. It’s only up close that the damage the cigarettes have wreaked is visible.
Ray emerges from his office and directs a tremendously loud and exuberant wolf whistle at Alice.
‘It’s the Can Can Grans!’ he shouts.
This sets off other whistles from the gathering performers. Alice holds her hand up to acknowledge receipt of the compliments but she’s concentrating on her feet. Every so often she stops and privately instructs one of the other dancers on a particular move.
Jean Scott, the seamstress, sidles up to Maria.
‘They’re great, aren’t they?’ Maria says enthusiastically.
‘Oh yeah, so they are. Mind you,’ says Jean, ‘it’s not necessarily the best dancers that get picked for the Golden Belles. It’s only those and such as those.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Och, it’s just her pals she picks. I mean, that Betty McAuslan, look at her!’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s rolling her bottom set around her mouth like a Mint Imperial, d’you see her?’
Now that Jean mentions it, Maria notices the hypermobility of Betty McAuslan’s bottom teeth and once she has noticed it she’s unable to take her eyes off it.
‘Yeah, I see what you mean. It does kind of spoil the effect.’
‘It’s nerves with her. She’s not cut out for the stage.’
Maria forcibly drags her eyes away from the grotesque yet fascinating Betty McAuslan and fixes her stare on Ray’s office. Aldo is still in there as far as she knows. He didn’t come out with Ray. What’s he doing in there?
‘That’s why Alice has got her at the back like that,’ Jean explains.
Aldo now appears from out of the office. He’s smiling. He wasn’t smiling before he went in there; in fact he seemed quite nervous. He’s more than smiling. He seems calm and happy, almost ecstatically happy and – of course, that’s it: he’s on drugs. He’s actually taking drugs in the building, around children and vulnerable people.
‘Oh, would you look at that,’ says Jean, indicating with her eyes the blissed out Aldo. ‘That’s what I call serene.’
‘Serene?’
‘Aye, look at him. I wouldn’t mind a bit of that myself. But I can’t get near him. He’s got his favourites as well.’
‘Aldo you mean, Jean?’
‘No, not Aldo, not that big numptie. I mean Ray. I can’t get an appointment; it’s only his favourites he’ll see.’
Well, now Maria has heard everything. This is almost unbelievable. So Ray’s involved in the drugs thing as well. And not only involved, he’s doing great business by the sounds of it. He’s so busy peddling drugs he has to operate an appointment system.
‘Wee Maggie saw him last week with her back and she said he was marvellous. All the years she’s been attending the doctor and paying a fortune every month for an osteopath. She’s in there five minutes with Ray and comes out prancing around like a young thing. He said she was a particularly good subject, very suggestible apparently.’
‘Wait a minute Jean, slow down. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘Well, he’s tried to keep it quiet, they all want it.’
The expression on Maria’s face must adequately reflect the confused state of her mind because Jean, at last, elucidates.
‘It’s Ray I’m talking about. He doesn’t want everybody to know but he takes people – only his favourites – he takes them in there and he zaps them. He’s done it for a few, he says it’s only pain control but they all rave about it. He does it to some of them three or four times and some only the once. He says it depends on your frame of mind. God knows what Aldo’s frame of mind is like because he gets zapped all the time. He’s never out that office and every time he comes out he’s like that, on cloud nine. It makes you sick. Aldo is his special project and the rest of us can’t get near him.’
‘What does he do when he zaps them?’
‘Well this is the thing. None of them’ll tell you. They just say that they’re ‘under’ and all they can remember is a nice wee story. Then they wake up and feel great, like they’ve had a great sleep.’
‘A nice wee story?’
‘Aye, that’s what they say.’
This only makes things more confusing but Maria hasn’t time to dwell on it because something much more pressing is happening.
The hall is filling up now. Marianne Bowman has arrived with the choir and Pastor McKenzie with his group. She scans the Victory Singers looking for a redheaded man. There are three redheads but the youngest of them is carrying a clear plastic suit bag over his arm. Inside the suit bag is what looks like a conical bra outfit. And that’s not all. As he turns around she can clearly see the red strawberry birth mark on the boy’s face. This zapping business will have to wait.
‘Excuse me a minute would you, Jean? Oh, and could you keep an eye on the soup for me?’
As Maria crosses the floor she slows down, unsure as to how to proceed. First of all she has to establish that the Madonna impersonator, Ronald, and the man who exposed himself to Blue Group several months ago, are one and the same person. But short of asking him, how else can she find out for sure? She thinks back to what McKenzie said about him yesterday; some sob story about him being an outsider and very lonely since his mother died. Ronald has an ugly purplish skin tone and the look of a boozer. Surely this is not the guy who looked so amazing dressed as Madonna yesterday? If so he must be able to work miracles with a pan stick.
Chapter 50
Ray is showing off his card tricks. He has a crowd of Marianne’s choirgirls round him and he’s turning ordinary-looking playing cards into cards bearing bouquets of flowers. The girls titter as, with an elaborately gallant flourish, he hands one to Marianne.
If Pastor McKenzie knows he has a pervert in his midst he’s remarkably casual about it. He’s chalking a pool cue and laughing with some of his followers. Maybe yesterday he was trying to hint at Ronald being a pervert without actually saying so. Perhaps, like Maria, he’s sworn to client confidentiality. But he’s a man of God and therefore bound to tell the truth.
‘Pastor, could I have a word?’
McKenzie puts down his cue and follows her to a table in the café area. As she passes Ronald she stares him down. Ronald, who had previously been smiling, has stopped. Unable to meet her gaze, he gathers up his suit bag and scurries off out the church.
‘Pastor, I want you to be honest with me.’
Pastor McKenzie says nothing.
‘About Ronald.’
He looks at Maria. He seems to be trying to read her but s
he’s set her face to neutral.
‘Okay,’ he says after a pause.
Maria waits, but through another long pause McKenzie does not expand.
‘Does he have any tendencies that you know of?’
‘Ah. You know about his conviction.’
‘No Pastor, I don’t know about his conviction, you failed to mention it yesterday, so I think you’d better tell me about it now, don’t you?’
‘Okay. Ronald has a conviction for lewd and libidinous behaviour.’
‘And you didn’t…’
‘I know what you’re thinking, Maria, but it’s a spent conviction, for a crime he committed two years ago. He brought me a letter from his lawyer. Legally he’s not obliged to disclose anything, but he wanted to. He came to the Victory Mission seeking forgiveness from Jesus. I believe him to be sincere. He has a good heart.’
‘And you just forgive him, do you?’
McKenzie opens his hands wide, palms down; a Jesus gesture.
‘That’s the business we’re in.’
‘I can’t believe how irresponsible you religious maniacs are. There are young and vulnerable people here, what about them? What about the risk to them?’
‘Please Maria, calm down. Above all we need to maintain confidentiality. If word gets out Ronald’s life could be in danger. Certain elements in Hexton might make a very ugly mob indeed.’
Thinking back to Brian’s dad and brother, Maria would be inclined to agree if she wasn’t so furious with McKenzie. She drops her voice to a whispered snarl.
‘Well, they might be interested to know that your boy’s recently been waggling his willy again! I want him out of my show.’
‘That’s your prerogative, Maria.’
‘If he ever sets foot in here again…’
‘I’m afraid that’s not.’
‘What?’
‘Whether he comes in here or not is Ray’s call. Ray has a come one come all policy, there’s a sign outside.’
Maria is speechless and despite what he’s just said, McKenzie is trying to be placatory.
‘Don’t worry. I promise you no one is at any risk. Ronald has agreed to be escorted by myself or Ray at all times throughout his involvement with the show, for his safety as well as others. I can assure you, he’s quite harmless.’
‘Ray knows about this?’
‘Well, yes…’
‘But you never thought to tell me?’
‘It was purely a political decision, Maria. Ray’s a respected figure in this community now, the most respected.’
‘The Godfather,’ Maria snorts.
‘Well, yes, if you like. Under Ray’s patronage Ronald won’t come to any harm.’
‘Pastor McKenzie, you’re an intelligent man,’ says Maria, trying to curb her sarcastic tone. ‘Have you ever stopped to think why that might be? Why everybody has such tremendous respect for Ray?’
‘I have, actually. For my own professional reasons I’ve made a study of Ray. I know that, unfortunately, he seems to reject Christianity. I know that, like the rest of us, he’s an ordinary sinner, but it cannot be denied that his goodness, and the goodness he fosters in others, is divine. I know he’s an unlikely messiah but he’s offered every person who’s walked in the door a chance for redemption.’
Maria had hoped that Pastor McKenzie might be an ally but it looks like he’s partisan. The Pastor has the evangelic lust in his eye he usually has when he mentions Jesus.
Chapter 51
The revelations have come thick and fast this morning. It’s all so shocking. Maria’s worried about Ray, no doubt about it. In the world of social work where transparency is so important he’s now beginning to seem a dangerously opaque character. There are too many unanswered questions. Why has he, along with Pastor McKenzie, shielded a known sex offender? What exactly is his relationship with Aldo and is he involved in drugs? Why is this community held so in thrall by Ray and his ‘zapping?’ Maria’s beginning to feel that there may be a more sinister tinge to his charisma.
She, like everyone else, likes him. It’s hard not to like him, but she must decide what to do. Should she call in the police? McKenzie’s right, Hexton parents would be up in arms: a convicted pervert, a drugs ring and God knows what else? There could be serious trouble. She has to be careful and think this through properly. She needs to speak to someone.
She waited and waited but Dezzie didn’t call last night. She’s trying not to worry about it but this is the first time they haven’t spent Friday night together since they started dating. She’d hoped he’d call today to make arrangements for tonight but of course now she’s agreed to take Fiona to the pictures. She checks her phone again. Still no calls.
If ever she needed to speak to Dezzie it’s now. Right, that’s it. This is no time for pride. This is an emergency. She turns her phone on and hits the speed dial button. Dezzie’s number briefly shows on the screen before the light in the phone dies. It’s turned itself off. She turns it on again and redials. The same again, the battery is completely flat. And then she has a brain wave.
She’ll ask Ray if she can use his office phone. He won’t refuse her and with a bit of luck she’ll be unsupervised. Maybe she can gather some evidence of drugs involvement, something concrete that she can go to the police with.
The café has opened now and most of the tables have been taken. It takes Maria a minute to locate Ray. He’s sitting alone, apparently engrossed in playing his guitar. As she approaches him, now with everything she suspects, she’s pressing her hand to her chest to contain the shaking.
‘My phone’s dead and I need to,’ Maria says, and then swallows a mouthful of saliva, ‘to make a call. Could I use your office?’
‘On you go,’ Ray says with a friendly smile, ‘it’s open.’
And it is. Maria is amazed to find it unlocked. Her first priority is to get a hold of Dezzie and ask him to come down here. She dials his number, both his house and his mobile but there’s no answer at either. She tries both numbers again. Of course, it’s Saturday, he must be out at the football match.
Dezzie’s number continues to ring out but she still holds the phone to her ear. On Ray’s desk, beside a large white roll of toilet paper, there’s a Celtic Football Club mug which has lost its handle. It’s filled to overflowing with pens and pencils and she moves it out of sight behind the curtain. With her heart thumping at her ribs, Maria slides open the deep drawer of Ray’s desk as quietly as she can. There are thirty choirgirls singing Bad Romance at the tops of their voices so it’s unlikely that anyone can hear her shifty fumblings but she’s taking no chances. If anyone does happen to walk in she can pretend she’s looking for a pen to write down a number.
Maria fears and/or hopes she’ll find something incriminating but all she finds is a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and some books.
There are books on professional card tricks and Spanish guitar, but are also some seriously technical manuals with heavy duty titles like Trance-formations: Neurolinguistic Programming and the Structure of Hypnosis, Prometheus Rising and Insider’s guide to Submodality whatever the hell that might mean.
This stuff is disturbing and compelling evidence that Ray’s using mind control. He’s the Derren Brown of Hexton. Why would he want to hypnotise anyone? Maria can just imagine trying to explain her suspicions to the police. I have reason to believe that the current proprietor of Hexton church is operating a drugs ring using a network of mesmerised pensioners as drug mules. It’s ridiculous. The police will never believe it; she’s having trouble getting her head round it herself. No, but think about it, Detective Inspector: why do drug pushers come to the attention of the police? Because of the dodgy company they keep! Unreliable and unwashed addicts as runners are a huge signpost that leads back to Mr Big. D’you see? He’s got spellbound OAPs making drug drops! This is flawless; Their Rainmates and erstwhile respectability are their disguise, a cloak of invisibility. And, even better, in the unlikely event that they get caught, in their zombiefie
d state what can they tell the police? They’ve been pre-programmed never to squeal. It’s the perfect crime.
The police would lock her up if she went to them with a story like that. And yet. She needs to speak to Dezzie about this, and more than anything she wants to hear his voice. If only he would answer his phone.
A bolt of panic strikes her: what if he’s deliberately not answering? What if Dezzie knows she’s trying to call and just doesn’t want to speak to her? She has to speak to him, to know that things are okay between them. She can’t split up with him, she can’t. She’s not prepared to lose her boyfriend, her future husband, because of a professional dispute over Brian drinking two pints.
She thought it had been resolved yesterday before they went for the buses but maybe he was only being professional in front of the clients. Maybe he was angry with her because she criticised him. She’s never seen Dezzie angry; no one has, it might be impossible to tell. Why does she always have to criticise him? In her heart of hearts she knows why. It’s because she’s jealous of him, because she’s scared Blue Group will love him more than they love her. She has to stop being such a control freak, it’s so unattractive. Is this why she’s checking up on Ray? Is she creating a drama just to have a good excuse to call Dezzie? Is she losing her professional judgement?
She reviews the evidence: the money changing hands, the known sex offender, the zapping, the professional hypnosis books. It stinks to high heaven but realistically there just isn’t enough to justify calling in the police. She’s going to have to rely on her instinct. It breaks her heart to think of all the hard work, the hours of rehearsal and set-building and costume-making that so many people have put in only for it to be soured by organised crime and perverts. But even without definitive proof she has a duty of care to provide a safe environment for the young and vulnerable people who come here. She has a responsibility to their parents to ensure they don’t get brainwashed, drugged or molested.