Millie's Game Plan (14 page)

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 skirt 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 Classics 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?’

There was a pause. ‘Typical student, I suppose, except he had bags of confidence and plenty of money.’

‘He’s not changed much, then?’

Another pause before a stiff chuckle, ‘Well, I should hope he’s matured a bit. It is twelve years ago.’ He dropped his arms. ‘Are you okay to move? I need to stretch.’

We stood up and walked around the crypt, flexing our muscles. It was chilly away from his body heat but good to get the circulation going again. Despite pacing and stretching for a few minutes, I could still feel goose-pimples springing up, so I began jogging on the spot.

‘You’re getting cold, again,’ he said. ‘Here. Team hug.’

It was natural to slip my arms around his waist beneath the cassock, while he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. My head just nestled beneath his chin.

‘Small team,’ I said, to fill the silence.

‘Badminton, tennis, croquet…’

‘Darts?’

‘Yep.’

‘Tango, waltz.’

‘Do you want to dance?’ he asked.

‘Now?’

‘Why, are you going somewhere?’

I laughed. ‘No.’

‘I can only do the waltz.’

‘Go on, then.’

We stepped back into a ballroom hold. Josh counted, ‘One, two,
three…’

We did a few turns of the crypt and as soon as we stopped, I moved into hug him again. It was warmer like that. ‘Thanks for the dance,’ I said.

‘My pleasure.’

And then there was silence, and I could feel the air pressing round me as if another storm was brewing. Beneath my fingertips, I became aware of the muscles round his waist, the heat from his arms was seeping into my back and warming my soul; the length of our bodies were pressed against each other. All I knew – no – all I felt, was I wanted more. Instinctively, my fingers flattened in a caress and my thumbs stroked the firm cords of muscle in the middle of his back. I detected a tremor of response and stepped back to look into his face.

But his hands closed on my shoulders and he held me steady. ‘You know, it must be about three o’clock now. We should try and get some sleep.’

‘Good idea,’ I said, too quickly, and broke away, waiting for him to take up his position again on the petticoat padding.

He lifted the netting and shook it to create more volume, folded it and placed it back on the floor. Then he sat down, taking care to leave plenty of netting for me to sit on.

Neither of us said anything, but he held out his hand to guide me down. We resumed our cosy, interlocked position, with his arms around me and my own hands folded in my lap. Only, this time, all I could think was how close I’d come to making a pass at him, and he’d stopped me – leaving me with an insane, crashing disappointment, not to mention, waves of embarrassment.