yellow and purple light that stream through the stained glass. Thin parings and planings of wood, pale yellow curls, lie on the floor like a baby’s first haircut.
‘Hello!’
He’s small for a man, the same height as her. He has a manly broad-shouldered walk, but light-footed, careful, like an animal. He must be strong; he’s carrying planks of wood as lightly as if he were carrying a snooker cue. A young fella, maybe forty, not handsome but good teeth, clean brown hair, nice arse. But married, big wedding ring on his finger. You don’t see that so much nowadays.
Nice that, old-fashioned.
‘Nice to see you.’
Forward, cheeky, fancies himself as a charmer. She’s never seen him before in her life.
‘Do I know you?’
That stops him in his tracks but he’s still smiling.
‘Don’t think so, but you’re welcome to come in.’
‘You’ve decimated this place.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I used to come here.’
‘They told me it was unused for the last six years.’
‘Did you get it from the council?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you a joiner?’
‘Yes.’
‘My kitchen cupboard door is hanging off.’
‘Sorry love, not that kind of joiner, I don’t do homers.’
He turns back to his planks of wood. He’s making a dresser, big old-fashioned thing, lovely piece of wood.
‘So, where’s the tea?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Nice cup of tea it says outside.’
‘Oh right, I’ll just put the kettle on. Sorry, but I’ve no biscuits, I only stuck the sign up ten minutes ago. I wasn’t expecting anyone as quick as this but that’s great, come away in. What’s your name?’
‘Alice.’
‘Ray. Pleased to meet you.’
He goes off through the vestry into the kitchen and leaves Alice alone in the dismantled church.
Underneath the sawdust, it still feels like a church. Except for the pews being moved everything is still here, all present and correct. The oak pulpit is still intact, all its carving preserved, the windows still in one piece. It’s amazing, in the hell hole that Hexton has become, that the church hasn’t been stripped or set on fire.
He comes back with the tea.
‘I don’t know what you take.’
‘Milk and two.’
‘Same as me.’
He smiles again. Does he fancy her? There’s more than twenty years between them. Maybe he has a thing for older women. He offers a cigarette. How does he know she smokes?
‘Is it okay to smoke in here?’
‘It’s not a church anymore. They de-blessed it, or whatever it is that they do, six years ago. Don’t worry, we’re not desecrating it.’
She lets him light her ciggie.
She said decimated. Alice is embarrassed at getting the word wrong but he doesn’t show any signs that he remembers.
‘So if it’s not a church you could have a snooker table in here,’ she says, blowing a stream of smoke past him.
‘Could do.’
With the cigarette in his mouth he pulls out a pack of cards and shuffles them. He spreads them out and offers her one.
‘Pick a card, any card.’
Alice is reluctant but he thrusts them at her until she takes one.
‘Don’t look at it. Just hold it.’
He touches her hand, restrains her from looking at it.
‘Now, think of a card, just picture it in your mind.’
The Jack of Clubs is the first card she thinks of. That’s what he’s expecting her to say.
‘Now, what’s the card you’re thinking of?
She has to try to think of another one quickly.
‘The Queen of Hearts.’
He takes her hand and turns the card over. It’s the Queen of Hearts.
‘Good trick.’
Alice doesn’t know what else to say. She says nothing and he shuffles his cards. Time passes. They both finish their tea.
‘So, what’re you selling?
‘Nothing. This is my workshop.’
‘Are you trying to save souls?’
Ray smiles.
‘Nope.’
‘Then why did you put the notice up? Why do you want people to come in?’
‘I’m going to be in here myself all day, working away. I’ll get lonely.’
‘Will you?’
People, even people Alice’s age
‘Hello!’
He’s small for a man, the same height as her. He has a manly broad-shouldered walk, but light-footed, careful, like an animal. He must be strong; he’s carrying planks of wood as lightly as if he were carrying a snooker cue. A young fella, maybe forty, not handsome but good teeth, clean brown hair, nice arse. But married, big wedding ring on his finger. You don’t see that so much nowadays.
Nice that, old-fashioned.
‘Nice to see you.’
Forward, cheeky, fancies himself as a charmer. She’s never seen him before in her life.
‘Do I know you?’
That stops him in his tracks but he’s still smiling.
‘Don’t think so, but you’re welcome to come in.’
‘You’ve decimated this place.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I used to come here.’
‘They told me it was unused for the last six years.’
‘Did you get it from the council?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you a joiner?’
‘Yes.’
‘My kitchen cupboard door is hanging off.’
‘Sorry love, not that kind of joiner, I don’t do homers.’
He turns back to his planks of wood. He’s making a dresser, big old-fashioned thing, lovely piece of wood.
‘So, where’s the tea?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Nice cup of tea it says outside.’
‘Oh right, I’ll just put the kettle on. Sorry, but I’ve no biscuits, I only stuck the sign up ten minutes ago. I wasn’t expecting anyone as quick as this but that’s great, come away in. What’s your name?’
‘Alice.’
‘Ray. Pleased to meet you.’
He goes off through the vestry into the kitchen and leaves Alice alone in the dismantled church.
Underneath the sawdust, it still feels like a church. Except for the pews being moved everything is still here, all present and correct. The oak pulpit is still intact, all its carving preserved, the windows still in one piece. It’s amazing, in the hell hole that Hexton has become, that the church hasn’t been stripped or set on fire.
He comes back with the tea.
‘I don’t know what you take.’
‘Milk and two.’
‘Same as me.’
He smiles again. Does he fancy her? There’s more than twenty years between them. Maybe he has a thing for older women. He offers a cigarette. How does he know she smokes?
‘Is it okay to smoke in here?’
‘It’s not a church anymore. They de-blessed it, or whatever it is that they do, six years ago. Don’t worry, we’re not desecrating it.’
She lets him light her ciggie.
She said decimated. Alice is embarrassed at getting the word wrong but he doesn’t show any signs that he remembers.
‘So if it’s not a church you could have a snooker table in here,’ she says, blowing a stream of smoke past him.
‘Could do.’
With the cigarette in his mouth he pulls out a pack of cards and shuffles them. He spreads them out and offers her one.
‘Pick a card, any card.’
Alice is reluctant but he thrusts them at her until she takes one.
‘Don’t look at it. Just hold it.’
He touches her hand, restrains her from looking at it.
‘Now, think of a card, just picture it in your mind.’
The Jack of Clubs is the first card she thinks of. That’s what he’s expecting her to say.
‘Now, what’s the card you’re thinking of?
She has to try to think of another one quickly.
‘The Queen of Hearts.’
He takes her hand and turns the card over. It’s the Queen of Hearts.
‘Good trick.’
Alice doesn’t know what else to say. She says nothing and he shuffles his cards. Time passes. They both finish their tea.
‘So, what’re you selling?
‘Nothing. This is my workshop.’
‘Are you trying to save souls?’
Ray smiles.
‘Nope.’
‘Then why did you put the notice up? Why do you want people to come in?’
‘I’m going to be in here myself all day, working away. I’ll get lonely.’
‘Will you?’
People, even people Alice’s age
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