Chapter 16:f

In which Carla bulges with annoyance

The microwave is a problem.

In order for it to be usable, it has to stand on the fridge top because there is no shelf low enough and no other counter. Helen is optimistically dead to the apparent impossibility of fitting another piece of equipment in the cramped space. She moves things around with great efficiency and finally pronounces herself satisfied that they can manage. Addison has already gone to bed.

‘It’s a bit of a tight fit,’ Carla says. ‘A bit like I’m getting in these clothes. No food at all would be the answer.’

Carla deliberately masks her growing unease about accepting such a large gift. She is aware of an angry bulging behind the mask. Everyone is trying to make her destiny for her: Addison has forced her hand, Steve is forcing her mind and Helen is now forcing a microwave where she doesn’t want it. The top of the fridge was a good dumping ground for all sorts of things during the day. And her own arrangement has been workable and reassuringly familiar. Something she wants to hold on to right now. Her mind needs to stay focused on strategy, not novelty. Why would Helen think she can organise her and make it impossible for her to choose not to be organised? Why will no one give her a life of her own?

The bulge of resentment is at breaking point. She backs away from the kitchenette. ‘Let’s leave it at that.’

She is allowing the threat of Steve to overshadow her thinking, and that she does have control over. The situation, from Helen’s point of view, is that Helen sees Carla occupied with Dinah and tries to offer her faster meal preparation and the other things that microwaves are supposed to do. That’s all. She has been thinking of helping Carla, not dominating her deliberately. And, of course, money will not have entered her thoughts. Rich people often don’t consider such things.

She pushes aside slight remembrances of other occasions when Helen has imposed her will. It all stemmed from kindness, and Carla is responding childishly. The meeting with Steve is taking its toll in all sorts of ways. It’s as if her normal thinking patterns have been pickpocketed and the remainder taxed.

She gives Helen a hug, more to assuage her own guilty lack of gratitude for the microwave than to reassure Helen, who is unaware of the problem she has caused. And, thinking on these lines, Carla decides that if money has not come into it, if Helen is neither throwing it around nor expecting the debt to be paid, then the bank account will stay resolutely balanced inside Carla’s head. She will not give it a further thought. Helen wanted to give and she has.

She shows her to the door. ‘I hope you enjoyed the party.’

‘I really did. Thanks. And my cold’s nearly gone.’ She pauses and fiddles the keys in her hand. ‘I’ve decided to come to the service tomorrow. You’ll need a lift after such a busy evening. What time shall I pick you all up?’

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Chapter 16:e

In which Carla makes a decision

Carla has tested the ground, pronounced it still dry and caused them all to flop down. The conversation has been about the baptisms. It’s as if someone just flipped a switch as they left the hall: new energy infused tired bodies, excitement rippled through every face. A rehearsal for the latest has been scheduled for Tuesday and every person there has been immersed except Carla, and of course Helen.

While reminiscences are recalled and swapped in a strange mixture of awe and irreverence, Carla turns to Helen and says quietly, ‘I’m worried about Addison. He’s a bit low.’

‘I noticed. Presumably that’s why he didn’t buy you a present.’

‘Neither did Rebecca,’ Carla says quickly. ‘Remember why we called her Mingy Beck at home?’

‘I remember.’ Helen blows her nose. ‘Actually, mine’s in the car so I’ll give you both a lift home and then you can use it straight away!’

‘I hate guessing games,’ Carla answers, but her eyes twinkle at Helen to soften the words. Trust Helen to be practical. ‘But Rebecca’s been a good help,’ she concedes. ‘I’m glad she came. It’d be a bit gloomy at the moment without her. Addison usually bounces back better than this.’

‘He thinks too much. He’s a bit like me in that respect.’

Carla twiddles a piece of grass from the ground and winds it round and round her finger.

‘Actually, I have almost decided to get baptised. That should help him feel better.’ She notes Helen’s reaction. ‘I know I said I wouldn’t… I was angry and I think it’s unnecessary… in fact, it’s rubbish, but I do owe him a lot and if it would make him happy––’ If it makes Dinah safe, she adds inwardly.

‘I thought your honesty would prevent you, if it didn’t mean anything.’ Helen is not accusing but Carla feels the barb. ‘Not that I can talk,’ Helen goes on after a moment. ‘I’ve spent most of my life trying to keep the peace.’ There’s a mixture of pain and self-knowledge behind every word. ‘Now I’ve started trying to free myself… Since I met you, actually,’ she says, looking away, as if the admission might bring a rebuff.

‘I’m not sure what I’m supposed to have done,’ Carla says slowly.

‘I can’t live without you,’ Helen says. ‘You’re a sort of – well, I’m very fond of you, baptised or not!’

The lightness of the quip does not deceive Carla. She knows the conversation is going somewhere Helen may regret. She traps the piece of grass between the sides of her two thumb bones, reed-like, and blows a raucous sound through it. A moment’s astonished silence, and everyone bursts out laughing.

The effect of her diversion is rather pleasing and Carla suddenly makes up her mind to use the moment. What she will not do for herself, she will do for Addison and Dinah. And as she thinks of him, she notices out of the corner of her eye that he has at last emerged.

‘I have decided to get baptised,’ she announces in a rush before she can have a change of heart. ‘And thank you for coming and making a lovely party…’ Her intended words are drowned by the their reception, and then she notices Addison’s drawn face regarding her steadily.

So. He knows she has made this decision for the wrong reasons. Well, it was his suggestion and he will have to live with it. He meant it to wash away the nightmares, finally remove the past mess. Perhaps it will. She knows that, in her own mind, much more hinges on it. Addison will consummate the marriage, she will be irrevocably his and Dinah may be safer legally. She can think of nothing else to do to ward off the threat of violence. It’s a start but it’s hardly adequate. Carla feels as strained inwardly as Addison appears outwardly. Luckily he has no knowledge yet of Steve’s lurking presence. He’s a figure from a diary and nothing more to Addison. She cannot imagine Steve threatening him: his full focus is Dinah. He will try to take her whatever the cost.

The words of one of her father’s favourite hymns comes back to her from her childhood, from before the days of drunkenness and violence when the words would have been incongruous: God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.

She stares sombrely at Addison, then at Helen. There is certainly a need for someone to work in a mysterious way.

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Chapter 16:d

In which Stefan turns up again

Carla says she is gagging in the stuffiness of the room and wanders out behind the barn into the pleasant coolness of the evening air, eating cake and talking at the same time to those who follow her example. Most people do, and Addison pictures them five minutes from now congregated up in the meadow. He can’t face joining them. Just a moment to savour his own dismal company is all he asks. Surely that won’t be held against him? He’s beginning to expect criticism, even invite it – why else would he linger behind when he should be putting Carla’s happiness first?

As he straggles behind, he hears a noise and turns to scan the main auditorium. No one should be in there, though the young band members have the annoying habit of running amok wherever they find opportunity.

A slight movement high up on the walkway attracts his attention and he hurries in. That is no place for youngsters to fool around. He must be tolerant, but whatever will the parents say if he allows that to happen on top of his other so-called crimes?

He sees only the back view of one person. ‘Come on down,’ he calls, more sharply than intended.

‘Just taking the promised look-around,’ a friendly male voice responds immediately. ‘You did invite me, after all.’

He struggles to make out who the person is and then the suave tone registers. Of course: the young fella who gave him a lift in that apology for a Jag. His heart leaps. So – the net has tightened round this fish. He is being pulled in.

‘I’m sorry,’ he calls. ‘Thought it was those youngsters fooling up there.’ He is directly below where the man now stands, leaning nonchalently on his forearms over the handrail. ‘Dodgy place that – meant to have it removed for safety, but it would spoil the look of the old barn.’ Wanting to make up for the rude manner of his welcome, he adds: ‘Glad you came.’ He’d told him to come along any evening, after all.

‘My pleasure.’ The voice is smooth, eyes staring intently at him across the vertical distance separating their bodies. ‘You’re right. The handrail is below an adult’s centre of balance, and teenagers are always gawky. Still, I expect they’ve been warned.’

The man descends swiftly and offers Addison his hand. ‘Name’s Stefan, sir.’

‘Addison. Addison Martin. They call me the Preacher––’ Suddenly he cannot finish his normal jovial introduction of himself. The man’s hand has squeezed his in a grip that sends a shiver down his warm sweaty spine. For a moment he no longer remembers what they do call him. It’s as if the man has taken something of his and left a vacancy in his brain. Then an instant later, the feeling is gone again. He can breathe more easily and immediately tries to cover up his lapse of manners.

‘I’m off outside to join the others. I’ll walk with you – if you’re going?’

‘Sure, just popped in to spy out the place.’

He sounds amused but Addison finds nothing funny about him as he walks quickly down the drive with a wave of farewell. The last time he met someone like this – someone who made him feel oddly out of touch with what was real and what was not being said – the man landed in hospital, the psychiatric one. Some folk need more than Addison can offer. This fish has been somewhere poisoned. Why can’t anything be simple any more?

Thinking about this, he wanders towards the talking, laughing crowd and listens in from a distance.

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Chapter 16:c

In which Helen astonishes Addison

The final dance is likely to resemble a rush-hour motorway junction in Birmingham, he tells Carla. ‘There’s dancing and dancing.’ He raises his hand in a gesture of cop-out and turns away. ‘I’m exhausted already.’

Addison knows that from experience he is unlikely, at the end of the polka bits, to pass his partner to the right successor. In any case, he’s not sure he wants to mix with everyone in that way right now. He is hearing again the accusation on the brick: you bang girls while she away.

He pours himself a drink and slumps onto a chair out of sight of the majority of the party-goers. He did have girls in the house while Carla was in hospital, but only because no men came when he had been desperate for company. He hadn’t touched anyone. God knows his conscience is clear. But add that to that the present implication of wrong handling of the children and he is finished, if any of it gets out, however unjustly. His church would disappear as fast as if the rapture had occurred. He has wanted a safe intimacy with the Followers and yet managed to make a mess of even that.

From out of the general pandemonium after the dance, Helen appears and fills a glass with a mixture of lemon and whisky. ‘Ready for home, Addison?’ she chides gently. ‘I’m glad I came, that last one was fun.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

Helen offers him a crisp. ‘Cheer up. This isn’t like you. Nothing’s that bad…’ She stands in front of him, her back to the melee. ‘What did you buy Carla?’

‘Nothing yet. Next week I’ll sort something out.’

Addison is ashamed but unrepentant, a strange feeling brought about by a strange set of circumstances, he tells himself.

‘I haven’t handed over her present yet, either.’

Addison is surprised. He imagines Helen to be meticulous about such things.

Helen’s bright laugh makes him suspect she’s been drinking more of the alcohol than is proper. Possibly to give her courage with all these strangers; she must find it a facer.

‘Only because it’s hidden in my car. Shall I tell you what it is?’

Feeling as though he is at infants school all over again, he rises to the bait. ‘Go on, then. Tell me.’

‘A microwave.’

He sits up, unable to check his astonishment.

‘You’ve bought Carla a microwave?’ he repeats carefully.

Helen brushes her hair back with her hand.

‘Why not? She could use one and I’ve worked out how to rearrange things to fit it in. She’ll love it.’

‘That’s a bit… generous, surely?’

Helen shrugs as if money had no meaning, and Addison remembers they live in different worlds. He has received big gifts from the Followers, sure, but that’s different; that’s like payment for the ministry, or as a result of the love that’s grown between them all. But Helen is just a friend; they only met a few weeks ago, and she’ll be gone soon. All the more reason to mind his manners, in fact.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he says, rising and trying to make amends for his words. He tugs miserably at his waistcoat. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude or… it’s just that I’m surprised. Carla will be pleased.’

‘I know. I spend a lot of time with her.’

Addison starts to move back towards the main trestle where people are ready to cut the cake. It has been made by Sheila who did a course at the local college and has a welcome habit of testing the by-products on their gatherings. This one is a 2D bunch of flowers in a vase, resulting in a sort of fondant wall plaque. ‘Flowers would have been just fine, though’ he tells Helen over his shoulder.

‘You can’t cook in a delphinium,’ she replies tartly. ‘Not even with faith.’

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Chapter 16:b

In which Addison dances and doubts

‘I said you’d meet Helen at the gate,’ Carla reminds him quietly. ‘I think I just saw her car pass the window.’

Addison is glad to get out for a breather. Tea will not happen for another half hour and he is looking forward to engaging Helen in further conversation. He will make a Follower of her yet. Despite Malcolm. Oh yes, Pete has told him confidentially of Malcolm’s scorn and antagonism. There is nothing like a challenge to get Addison on his knees and there is absolutely nothing God cannot do when one of the Followers is persistent. He whistles as he walks down the path to the bank of poppies, and by the time he runs into Helen he is nearly his old self again.

 ***

‘Form into two lines.’

The lead guitarist is wearing a bow tie and white shirt for the occasion. His youthful grin spreads from ear to ear as he marshalls the party-goers, now replete and relaxed, into some sort of resemblance of a country gathering. He has hung red and green ribbons on his guitar’s machine-head, and the group’s drummer for the evening has arrayed the hi-hats appropriately with tinsel and bows. A placard reading ‘Happy Birthday Carla’ is propped across the bass player’s amplifier.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he raises his free arm in mock ceremony, ‘the first dance is in honour of our birthday girl, Carla, and her leading man, the Preacher himself, hip… hip… hip…’

The hooray is deafening and genuine to its last cry of speech! speech! but the music has started, fast and impelling, the fiddling of young Dave setting feet tapping and bodies limbering up. The dance begins before Addison can fully grasp the warmth of feeling that lies behind the cheering.

Four more routines follow without break and the sweat starts to appear on everyone’s brow. Breathless laughter and desperate requests for mercy bring a pause for drinks.

‘Hallelujah!’ shouts a young voice, discreetly anonymous in its wit.

Addison excuses himself to the toilet before returning to the trestle for a lemonade. As he turns to search out Carla, he notices that she is over the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Talie. The strange look on her face and the obvious serious nature of the discourse immediately brings back to him in great force the last interchange he had with Talie – on Thursday night after the children’s meeting.

Addison swallows his drink in one draft and sets the glass back on the table, his hand shaking slightly. Talie must be telling Carla about the meeting. There can be no other reason for them to have moved away from the other folk. His face flames. Talie is a friend. She should be protecting him, thinking the best, not betraying him like this and probably putting him in the worst light. Everyone makes mistakes – and he won’t let it happen again.

He swings round angrily – and knocks into Great Aunt Rebecca, who is pulling the pram behind her.

‘Dinah’s not asleep yet. She’d be better at home.’

‘What? Oh… She can just lie and listen, can’t she? It’ll be over soon.’

‘She’s getting fretful. I’ll walk her home.’

Addison objects. ‘You can’t walk home by yourself, and besides, you’re tired by now. I’ll take her myself.’ He will be glad of an excuse to leave. The place is claustrophobic and the fatigue is getting the better of him.

Pete Flowers is suddenly behind Addison’s shoulder. ‘You can’t take her. You’re the host.’

‘Why ever not?’ Addison demands. He stares straight and hard into Pete’s eyes. ‘I’m her father. It’s my responsibility.’

He knows he is rebuffing something that hasn’t yet been said, that Pete hasn’t had the guts to utter, but he can feel it burning behind Pete’s eyes, in his voice, in his offer: you can’t be left alone with Dinah, you don’t know the rules about kids.

‘You’re supposed to be here with Carla, and she’s not ready to quit yet.’ Pete’s reply is measured and quiet, his eyes humorous. There’s no hint of accusation. Addison flushes. What is he thinking? He has let his imagination blow things up out of all proportion.

Pete puts a hand on his arm. ‘Let me give Dinah and Rebecca a lift, Add. You’re already tired. And you’ll be needed to help clear up. Can’t leave it all to the birthday girl!’

Addison glances at Rebecca, then slowly nods. He can’t think straight. He doesn’t know what is what tonight. Truth and falsehood swirl round him along with the dancers who are setting off again. The movement makes him dizzy, unable to think straight.

‘The key,’ he says thickly, handing the yale from his bunch to Rebecca. ‘Carla has one, so you don’t have to wait up. And – thanks, Pete.’

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