Only Strange People Go to Church (27 page)

Maria has heard her sing this at least three times a day, every day, for the last month. She knows the words at least as well as Fiona does, but until now she didn’t feel the loneliness and grief and longing.

With each verse she feels it stronger.

It was probably too much to expect of one person. Dezzie was her religion. She should have known it couldn’t be true.

Fiona finishes her song and receives the applause with a modesty and dignity Maria didn’t know she was capable of. She is also generous; in her moment of triumph she claps and stretches her hand out to indicate the orchestra, sharing the glory with them. The audience are clapping and whistling, Fiona is smiling graciously, majestic and effulgent. Hexton’s own Susan Boyle, the audience love her. Her talent shines from her, every inch the star, a hundred times more gifted and graceful than the synthetic celebs she worships in the magazines. The show is a runaway success. Blue Group have been the icing on the cake, they’ve topped the bill and stolen the show.

But it’s drawing to a close. Fiona leaves the stage and suddenly it’s the finale. The orchestra begins playing
Nessun Dorma
. The choirgirls file onstage from each side, followed by the primary school kids. They stand, sit and kneel on benches, raked rows of young heads like a tidy field of cabbages, their heads only just visible to the parents who squint to pick them out.

The Hot Steppers can be heard before they’re seen, beating the floor with their metal clad feet as though it owed them money. Blue Group come on, Jane pushing Brian’s chair, Martin holding Brian’s arm out victoriously, Fiona elegant and modest. Two lines of Golden Belles in their Moulin Rouge costumes high kick their way onstage from opposite sides in a pincer movement. They earn a laugh from the audience because dangling at each end of the silk and feathers line up are two very under-rehearsed men. Ray and Aldo cling on, kicking when they should be knee bending and hopping ignominiously. The audience scream with delight and this buffoonery only highlights the smooth professionalism of
the Belles. Ronald leads on the solo artistes who, except for Magic Marshall, try to outdo each other for applause.

The audience are on their feet and clapping feverishly. Mums and dads gush proud tears. Light pulses in the darkness as cameras and phones flicker and flash.

Martin, unable to restrain himself, begins to sing along with
Nessun Dorma
. He doesn’t know the words but at this stage his exuberance far outweighs his professionalism.

‘Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah,’

The jubilant audience need no encouragement to join in. They don’t know the words either but ever since this song became a football anthem everyone is well-acquainted with the tune. In the absence of a libretto, well punctuated
nah nah nahs
suffice very well. The orchestra must play louder to match the passion of the congregation as the church sings with one voice. Everybody’s here, except of course Dezzie.

When
Nessun Dorma
ends Marianne walks to the front of the crowded stage and gives a formal vote of thanks. Still struggling with her dilemma, Maria isn’t paying attention. Suddenly Pastor McKenzie is at her side.

‘Come on, Maria,’ he says, ‘everyone’s waiting for you.’

Dazed, Maria lets herself be led on to the stage. Here she receives from Blue Group an enormous bouquet accompanied by hugs and wet kisses.

‘As I’ve said,’ says Marianne, ‘without the stubborn efforts of Miss Maria Whyte there would have been no show.’

From here on stage the applause sounds different, a frightening crashing noise, a noise that demands everything of Maria but what else has she to give?

‘Tonight you’ve heard how, under the auspices of the Diva Extravaganza, a community café and youth club have been established. Well, I am very pleased to tell you that, thanks to the incredible generosity of Mr Ray Emmanuel, Mrs Alice Boyd, the ladies of Autumn House and other members of our community, the café and youth club will continue to run. Of course, all are welcome, ‘come one come all,’ as it says outside, but we are particularly
keen for volunteers – male and female – to get involved in the new five-a-side football group.’

Maria’s breathing has just about returned to normal. Thank God Marianne didn’t expect her to make a speech.

‘Of course, given the tremendous success of tonight’s show, we are hoping that Maria will consider running it as an annual event. Maria,’ says Marianne, putting her on the spot, ‘what do you think? Will you produce an annual community show for Hexton?’

Under this kind of interrogation Maria can only nod blindly. She’s not lying, of course she’ll consider it, but she has one or two more pressing matters to consider at the moment.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in giving Maria our vote of thanks and ratifying our support for an annual event.’

The audience are happy to ratify.

Ratify all you like, Maria thinks all the while nodding and smiling, I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, please feel free to stay behind and join us for refreshments served by the ladies from Autumn House. I hope you enjoyed our show as much as we enjoyed performing for you and it only remains for me to say thank you very much for your support, safe home and we hope to see you here again next year.’

The orchestra, for the final time, play a brief reprise while the curtains close. Marianne is shouting instructions for people to leave the stage in an orderly fashion. Blue Group are given priority and everyone stands aside to let them pass. The Hot Steppers are impatiently pawing the floor. Everyone is pushing forward, keen to get front of house and receive their own bouquets and plaudits. All of Blue Group quickly make their excuses and go and join their families.

‘Can Brian come with me?’ asks Martin.

Maria nods, too tired to argue. It’s not until they’ve gone that she realises she hasn’t had a chance to tell them how great they were.

The Golden Belles are exiting and Alice is barking out instructions.

‘Right girls, show’s over, get your tutus off and your aprons on, there’s customers waiting to be served!’

Maria is still holding her bouquet, like a bride jilted at the altar, she stands alone on the empty stage, expectant but hopeless. She goes back to the dressing room and dumps the flowers in six inches of water in the sink. Outside there is an excited hubbub of performers in the hall, congratulating each other as they pass. Perhaps another quick meditation, thinks Maria, but try as she might to summon them, Nelson and Arlene have deserted her. Bastards.

Now, when it’s important, when she
really
needs them, they’ve melted away. They’ll be back tomorrow, no doubt. Whether she’s in a cheap B and B with Dezzie en route to London or alone weeping in her flat, they’ll be back to tell her she’s made the right decision.

Maria knows, she’s always known, that Nelson and Arlene aren’t reliable. The only person she can completely rely on is herself. Not that she’s ungrateful. In the same way that praying to Jesus helps the Pastor and his flock, Nelson and Arlene have helped her. But she knows, she’s always known, that in every challenge she faced pulling the show together, it was her alone who made it happen. And now, when she has this important life-changing decision to make, it’s her, and her alone, that has to make it.

No point in sitting here doing nothing, might as well get changed and get organised. As she pulls her jumper over her head she remembers her engagement ring dangling around her neck. She takes it off and looks at it. It’s so beautiful. Dezzie paid an awful lot of money for this ring, much more than he can afford. What the hell is she going to do? Crying might not be a practical solution but at the moment it’s all she can do.

The dressing room door flies open.

‘Oh sorry, I didn’t know you were still here, Maria.’

It’s Alice. Maria tries to hide the ring and the fact that she’s crying but as she’s facing the mirror Alice has a pretty good view.

‘Are you okay, love?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just a bit of post-show anticlimax, I think.’

Which is a stupid thing to say because Alice obviously doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about and now she’ll have to explain herself further. But Alice doesn’t seem to be listening.

‘To be honest,’ says Alice in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I’m in here for a quick smoke, it’s raining heavy outside now, d’you mind?’

Maria hesitates, ‘Well.’

‘Cheers love,’ says Alice as she takes her cigarette purse from her apron. ‘Bliddy Ray, he’s become a born again non-smoker. Nobody’s allowed a fag now that he’s given up.’

‘Has Ray stopped smoking?’

‘Aye; pain in the arse. He says we’ve to set a good example. There’s no smoking in or outside the building anymore, that’s it finished. Bliddy pain in the arse.’

Alice takes a deep draw of her cigarette and blows out a long stream of smoke.

‘Here, I’ve got a juicy bit of news,’ says Alice, ‘the Headmistress has copped of with the Pastor. It’s official, he gave her a big bunch of flowers and snogged her right in front of everyone in the cafe. Been on the cards for a while, apparently.’

‘Yeah?’ says Maria.

It is her only response. Silence falls.

‘Post-show anticlimax, eh?’ says Alice, ‘Never mind, love, When you’ve been in showbiz as long as I have, you get used to it.’

A few more minutes pass in silence while Maria listens to Alice sucking hard, and watches the orange glow burning rapidly down the white cigarette, obliterating it, turning it quickly to cold grey ashes. There is something satisfying about it, something that just makes sense. The door opens again. This time it’s Ray.

‘I knew it! I could smell the smoke. I knew you’d be hiding somewhere having a fly one!’

‘Oh, dry your eyes, I’ve smoked it now anyway.’

‘Aye well, it’ll be your last. This is a non-smoking area as you very well know, Alice Boyd. And anyway, they’re all queueing up out there for coffee.’

‘I’m going, I’m going! See what I mean?’ she says to Maria. ‘After the feathers and sequins you always have to go back to old clothes and porridge. Nothing else for it.’

Alice smiles, tucks her fag packet purse back in her apron and is gone.

‘Old clothes and porridge, eh?’ says Ray. ‘She’s full of it, isn’t she?’

‘Mmmm.’

‘But I suppose she’s right. That’s it all over. It’s going to be helluva quiet around here.’

‘Mmmm,’ says Maria again, it’s all she can trust herself to say.

‘Are you okay, Maria?’

‘Yeah, fine.’

She had hoped that she might get the dressing room to herself to do a bit of thinking.

‘Sorry, you need some time on your own, don’t you?’

Maria purses her lips and nods, managing to not look at him.

‘Yeah.’

‘Sorry.’

Ray begins to leave and then turns back.

‘I know you’ve got things to think about, and I don’t know what to say to help, I’m not very good at this kind of thing, but, it’s just … I might as well say it now Maria, or I probably never will: I think you’re great. You don’t know the power you’ve harnessed in this wee town. And I know you’re going to beat yourself up about Brian, aren’t you? I know what you’re like by now, but don’t, okay? You can’t protect people from life. It’ll happen to them no matter what you do. Anyway, I’m talking too much but I just wanted to say that I’m ready and when – and only
if
– you’re ready, and you’d like to talk, I’m here, okay?’

‘Okay Ray, thanks,’ she says quietly as he leaves.

She takes a big breath in and holds it, steeling herself. Old clothes and porridge. She can do that.

Dezzie’s right. About one thing at least. This isn’t the end of the world. The show’s been a steep learning curve but the most important thing she’s learned is that her life is bursting at the seams with love and commitment. She believed she was missing out. All these years she’s been making it hard for herself when really it’s quite straightforward. All is not lost. Dezzie’s right, she’s young, there’s plenty of time for what she wants.

And now, suddenly, with Alice’s couthy ‘old clothes and porridge’ and everything that Ray has just said and no input whatsoever
from Nelson and Arlene thank you very much, Maria understands what she has to do.

The first thing she has to do is acknowledge her part. She’ll go home tonight and write up her report for Bert. She’ll come clean about assaulting Fiona with the crisps, after all, that’s where all of this started, where the rules were first disregarded. Everything went downhill from there: Martin and Brian drinking, the stupid anarchistic boys’ club, and of course, what Dezzie did to Brian.

Brian is going to hate her for this.

This’ll go all the way to the top, she won’t get the promotion, Mike will see to that.

With one last look at the engagement ring she puts it down on the shelf in front of her. She does it slowly, watching herself in the mirror, a witness. She’s not going to London, she’s not going anywhere. She’s staying here, in Hexton, with Blue Group. She has a last look round the dressing room to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything but there’s no hurry. The show’s over. Maybe next year the theme could be songs and routines from famous musicals, The Sound of Music, Cabaret, Chicago, that kind of thing. She’ll run the idea past Martin, Brian, Jane and Fiona once the dust has settled. For now all she has to do is get them organised with their coats and taxis and get them safely home.

THE END