Limbo (20 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ Joy murmured. ‘That sucks.’

‘Yep, cancer’s a bitch,’ he muttered as he scooped up the current batch of bacon and eggs, placing them in a foil tray sitting on the edge of the barbecue. ‘Can you take this and your pile of toast over to Dad?’

Joy nodded, picking them up and delivering them as requested. She looked at the line, smiling at the elderly man at the front. It didn’t seem to be showing any signs of getting any shorter.

‘Thanks,’ Stan said to Joy as he placed a steaming scoop of thick porridge into the proffered bowl.

‘Thank you Father,’ the man said. ‘Mighty good of you.’

Stan smiled at the old man. ‘More where that came from. Seconds if you like. Help yourself to bacon and eggs.’

The man shuffled off and Joy watched as he headed into the main area of the church, towards one of the pews where people were eating their breakfast. She supposed some people would frown upon turning a church into a picnic ground but it seemed like just the right purpose to her when it was five degrees outside.

‘Aren’t you worried about dried egg yolk on your floors?’ she teased him in a low voice as the next person stepped up.

‘Nah. They have to sleep out there in it, I’m not going to make them eat in it too. Besides,’ he grinned, ‘it’s Lance’s job to mop.’

A younger woman presented her bowl. She was wearing a pair of high silver platform sandals, thin tights over her beanpole thighs, a pair of short shorts and a too-small, too-thin jumper that fell short of covering her arms. Her bony wrists stuck out, exposed to the cold.

Her lips were the same purply blue Joy was used to seeing on corpses. ‘Morning,’ she murmured at them, her teeth chattering slightly. She was obviously freezing her ass off.

Joy’s nipples practically snap froze just looking at her.

Stan smiled at her and heaped her bowl full of porridge, running through the same patter as he had with the man before, only this time he added, ‘There’s some nice warm coats in a box down near the altar, why don’t you grab one before you leave? Some are even quite stylish.’

The woman smiled meekly, cradling her hands around the hot bowl of porridge as if it were a warm fire. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and Joy caught a glimpse of moisture in her eyes before she turned away.

‘Joy? Toast’s up,’ Lance called from behind her.

‘Coming,’ she said. She leaned in towards Stan. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ she murmured.

He chuckled. ‘You are, however, in the right place. And it’s even still standing, Joy.’

Joy looked at the ceiling. ‘Don’t count your chickens.’

***

An hour later the line had been served and Stan was moving about the pews checking on everybody, stopping to chat to whoever was keen. Joy and Lance were sitting side by side in the pew second from the front, talking about music in those hushed tones people seemed to adopt inside churches. In fact, they were surrounded by the low murmur of everyone speaking in hushed tones — except for Stan, of course.

Considering it was the least church-like gathering Joy had ever witnessed, it was almost comical. More like the Breakfast Club from the 80s movie.

‘Thanks so much for the help this morning, Joy,’ Stan said, his voice booming across the pews as he approached them a few minutes later.

‘What can I say, Stan,’ Joy said with an exaggerated shrug. ‘The spirit moved me.’

He grinned as he took a seat in the pew in front of them. ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’

She nodded solemnly and placed a hand over her heart. ‘Hallelujah,’ she murmured.

His laughter boomed out. ‘Praise the Lord.’

‘Absolutely, Stan, PTL,’ she grinned. ‘PTL.’

Lance shook his head at both of them. ‘Dude,’ he said, looking at Joy. ‘Don’t encourage him.’

‘Er…excuse me f…father?…er…Stan?’

Joy glanced behind her to where a young woman stood hesitantly, a sleeping baby in her arms. Behind her stood a guy, his hand placed protectively on her shoulder, his calloused-looking thumb gently stroking the side of her neck.

They looked like life had been harsh and neither of them were too far out of their teens.

Stan stood and smiled at them. ‘Yes. Everything okay? Something I can help you with?’

The woman hesitated, looking at Joy and Lance then back at Stan before plunging on. ‘I was wondering…that is
we
were
hoping
you might be able to christen our daughter? We’re very transient right now, living out of our car, travelling around trying to find work for Danny and everyone we’ve asked so far said no because we don’t belong to their parish.’

Joy thought she saw a slight tightening in Stan’s mouth before it broke into a broad grin. ‘Of course,’ he boomed, opening his arms. ‘What a perfect way to christen this old girl,’ he gestured around the grand space, ‘by christening your little girl.’

The woman smiled, her shoulders sagging, but it was short lived. ‘I’m sorry, we can’t…pay you anything.’

The quaver in her voice squeezed hard at Joy’s gut. The woman may have been young but she was standing tall, squaring her shoulders again. She obviously had her pride and it was difficult to admit they didn’t have two cents to rub together, difficult to ask for charity.

‘We have no spare money but Danny could do some odd jobs around —’

Stan interrupted her with a quick wave of his hand. ‘No money required in the eyes of the Lord. Jesus didn’t ask for money when he went around the countryside baptising people did he?’

The woman shook her head and Joy caught a fleeting glimpse of profound gratitude in her gaze. They obviously hadn’t caught a lot of breaks.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her voice suddenly thick as she placed her forehead against her sleeping daughter’s, her partner squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. ‘Thank you.’

‘How about we do it right now?’ Stan said.

The couple looked at each other. ‘C…could you?’

‘Of course,’ Stan assured. ‘We have the minister,’ he poked himself in the chest with his thumb, ‘the church,’ he raised his arms and gestured around him again, ‘and we even have a congregation.’

He turned to the pews where the breakfast crowd was still sheltering, enjoying some respite from the cold. ‘Who wants to witness a christening?’ he announced.

There were smiles and nods and general murmurs of assent. ‘That’s settled then,’ Stan grinned, looking at the still unsure couple. ‘Come on up to the front.’

Without any further ado, he ushered them up and in less than a minute he was performing a ceremony that was simple yet somehow holier than Joy had ever seen.

There was no fuss or trim. No fancy white dress, no preening godparents, no written order of service with specially selected hymns and readings. Just a sleeping baby, two parents who believed and a priest.

Joy was surprisingly moved when Stan trickled water over the baby’s head and she gave an indignant little cry at being awoken so rudely. He’d altered the ceremony to reflect those present; a bit like Joy did when she hadn’t liked the ending of a book and just made up a different one, a better one, in her head.

Joy had a feeling that Stan was used to doing that when required, probably another reason he hadn’t been that popular.

At the end of it, Stan turned them around to face the congregation and said, ‘Please welcome Tahlia Jean into God’s family,’ and that was something that no-one could take away from her, or her determined parents.

The ragtag congregation of street people burst into applause and then a moment later, from down the back, a voice of pure, unadulterated quality started to sing.

Jesus loves me this I know,

For the bible tells me so…

Goose bumps pricked at Joy’s arms and she, along with everyone else, turned to see who the voice belonged to as the notes rose to the top of the vaulted ceiling and pirouetted there.

An old Aboriginal woman with skinny arms and greying hair stood in her spot and sang. Her eyes were closed, her face was raised as Lance’s had been that day Joy first met him and her hands were held out in front of her, palms up.

Slowly the rest of the congregation joined in, turning back to face the now quiet, contemplative baby as they crooned through the simple lyrics of the well-known children’s hymn.

It was an utterly beautiful moment, almost suspended in time, and Joy knew as long as she lived she would see few things more pure and powerful than what she’d just witnessed in this place.

This, she thought, was what religion should be.

Joy stayed behind after everyone drifted off and helped Stan and Lance clean up. She still had an hour to kill before she was due at Dash’s to take Katie shopping for a castle.

‘I think we’ll make a Christian out of you yet, Joy,’ Stan mused as he scraped the barbecue down while Joy wiped the table.

She laughed. ‘Don’t go holding your breath.’

‘Oh come on, admit it,’ he said. ‘You were moved today.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded, turning to look at him. ‘I was. It was very beautiful. And when that woman started to sing —’

‘Margery,’ Stan interrupted. ‘Her name is Margery.’

Joy nodded. ‘That was just…’ She rubbed at her arms as they started to goose up again. ‘It gave me the shivers.’

‘Yes,’ he said, laying his scraping tools down and folding his arms. ‘I’ve been thinking about that ever since.’

‘Oh?’

Stan didn’t answer her query for a bit. He just raised two fingers to his mouth and tapped them against his lips, eyeing her carefully.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘What?’

He was looking at her pretty much the way Eve had yesterday. Speculatively. Like he was cooking up some plan involving her. At least with Stan she could be fairly certain it didn’t involve her working in a brothel.

‘What do you think about starting a choir?’

Joy blinked.
That
she hadn’t been expecting. ‘A choir?’

He nodded. ‘For the street people. I bet there are more out there that can sing just as well as Margery. Maybe even better. And even the ones who can’t probably have other musical talents nobody knows about and have probably been long forgotten.’

‘Like the Choir of Hard Knocks in Melbourne?’

‘Yes, yes, exactly,’ Stan enthused. ‘Restore some pride to a bunch of people that have long since given up on ever getting any back. Give them a sense of belonging to something, being a part of something. Just giving them something to do, something to stick around for.’

Joy nodded. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea and the Basin is the perfect place for it. You should totally do it.’

‘Ah,’ Stan smiled. ‘That’s where you come in.’

‘Me?’

‘And Lance. I reckon that’s a project you two could take on.’

Joy shook her head. ‘I don’t know the first thing about forming a choir. Or leading them.’

‘That’s okay, they probably don’t the first thing about being in one either,’ he said. ‘You can all learn together.’

***

By the time she was standing with Katie in the aquarium ornament section of the pet store (aisles and aisles as it turned out), Joy couldn’t quite believe the way the day had panned out. In fact, she couldn’t quite believe the way the last couple weeks of her life had turned out. Three years ago Dash had been an old friend of her brother’s and a very hot but very unexpected one-night stand. She’d never expected to see him ever again.

Now he was helping her find an abducted child and she was helping his daughter look for a castle through which his bored goldfish could frolic. If frolicking was indeed in Ralph’s repertoire.
And
she’d said yes to forming a choir.

About which she knew nothing.

She and Lance had been dragooned very effectively by Stan, and now they were meeting on Tuesday night to go over a game plan.

Joy still wasn’t sure how it all happened. At the moment she was having enough problems with what the dead were throwing at her without having to wrangle the living.

Stan and Eve should set themselves up in business. People Whisperers Inc. With sex
and
God on their side they’d be freaking unstoppable!

‘What about this one?’ Katie asked.

Joy shook herself out of her reverie and looked at what Katie was holding up. It was sparkly and purple with fake gold turrets. It looked like a castle fit for mermaid Barbie.

And there was only so much bling a small bowl could take.

‘I think we need to find something a little less…’
trashy
‘…purple,’ she said.

Dash hadn’t taken well to the pink gravel. Joy could only begin to imagine his reaction if they turned up with a castle as gay as a room full of pixies.

Who knew Ralph’s masculinity was an issue?

‘Okay,’ Katie said and put it back on the shelf.

Her easy acceptance was disconcerting. Joy thought kids were supposed to have tantrums if they didn’t get their way? She was either exceptionally well behaved (which she was) or she had that whole product-of-divorced-parents peacemaker role down pat.

Those kids didn’t rock the boat. The status quo was their friend.

That was why Katie hadn’t pitched a fit at another abysmal attempt by Dash to contain her hair into some semblance of order this morning. She was obviously going to have to teach Katie how to do her own hair and leave her father to his own finger-combing style.

‘What about this one?’

Katie’s second attempt was more along the lines of what Joy was pretty sure Dash had envisioned. Plastic and tacky for sure but a better
class
of castle. More miniature replica with a weathered-looking exterior and a fierce-looking drawbridge.

In other words dull, grey and boring.

‘I think Ralph needs something a little more exciting, don’t you?’

Joy thought she almost heard Katie sigh in relief as she quickly shelved it.

They walked further along the aisle. ‘What about this one?’ Joy asked, reaching for an interesting faux-redbrick castle with two shiny silver turrets like little mirror balls.

Katie eyed it carefully, turning it over and over in her hands. ‘I love the turrets,’ she said. ‘It looks like Rapunzel’s tower. It even has a window, see?’

It took all Joy’s willpower not to snatch it back as she looked at where Katie was pointing. If Katie only knew about Dash’s plan to lock her away in one of those suckers to save her from the joys of teenage boys she’d be dropping it like a hotcake too.