Only Strange People Go to Church Read Free

have to do. Along the side of the van it says Bespoke Carpentry and a mobile phone number. Wasn’t Jesus a carpenter? That fits nicely. The mobile number is 07781 434…
    ‘Excuse me,’ White Van Man shouts over the noise of his diesel engine, ‘I’m looking for Hexton Church, d’you guys know where it is?’
    He addresses this to the whole group.
    People in Hexton never speak to Blue Group. Apart from the odd chorus of Spot the Loony from hooligans, the populace largely shuns them. Hextors seem to believe that mental disability is contagious, keeping their distance and averting their eyes when Maria and her clients pass by. Shopkeepers speak only to Maria, and even then, reluctantly.
    Blue Group are momentarily speechless, stunned by the stranger’s bonhomie, and then they all want to tell him at once.
    ‘It’s not in this street; you have to take a left at the top.’ ‘Left. At. The.’ ‘That church is haunted.’ ‘Top. Second. Right.’ ‘No, go back the way you came.’ ‘He has to carry on and keep turning right and then he’ll be back to…’ ‘Second. Right. Again.’ ‘I know where it is. I’ve passed it loads of times.’ ‘If you go as far as Black Street then you’ve passed it.’
    White Van Man turns his engine off and scoots across the passenger seat closer to them.
    ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you properly.’
    Maria knows exactly where the church is but with everybody jabbering at the same time she can’t think off the top of her head the best way to get to it from here.
    ‘Left. At. The. Top. Second. Right. Second. Right. Again.’ says Brian’s voice machine.
    ‘Left at the top, then second right and second right again?’ says the driver, this time directly to Brian.
    Brian lets his head fall forward and pulls it up again in a slow nod.
    ‘Cheers mate.’
    White Van Man wrinkles his nose. He has a concerned look on his face. It’s a nice face, intelligent and inoffensive. He’s quite good looking in that generic square-jawed, broad-shouldered kind of way and perhaps it’s this observation that reminds Maria of the sick stains down the front of her jacket. And Brian and Fiona’s jackets. Fiona’s face is still red and blotchy from the running and the crying. Collectively they must look a right shambles.
    ‘Is everything all right?’ says the driver.
    Fiona and Martin begin to speak in an excited rush.
    ‘There was a man.’ ‘We chased him’ ‘I was going to catch him’ ‘He was scared of us’ ‘He had his…’
    ‘Yes,’ says Maria, taking charge, ‘okay Fiona, and you too, Martin,’ she says, chastising them with a look. It’s embarrassing enough without going into it with a van driver.
    ‘We’ve had a slight upset, but we’re fine now, thanks.’
    The van driver says nothing and smiles. All of Blue Group beam back at him.
    ‘I’m Ray, by the way,’ he says. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
    Blue Group are often shy with strangers, they hang back and let Maria do the talking, but not now.
    ‘I’m Fiona, pleased to meet you.’
    ‘Martin,’ says Martin, pointing to himself.
    ‘I’m Jane, how d’you do.’
    Maria waits for Brian’s voice machine to finish.
    ‘Brian. Charmed. I’m. Sure.’
    ‘And I’m Maria, nice to meet you.’
    ‘Okay,’ he says, ‘thanks for the directions.’
    Ray slides back across to the driver’s seat and starts the engine. ‘Take care. Bye now.’
    ‘Bye Ray!’ ‘See. Yah.’ ‘Bye bye!’ ‘Cheerio Ray!’ ‘Wouldn’t. Want. To. Be. Yah.’
    Fiona and Martin wave until the van is out of sight. All of them seem to be as invigorated by this encounter as the last one. All except Maria.
    With the adrenaline receding, she’s absolutely knackered, and disheartened and embarrassed. It’s a cruel irony that the only half-decent looking man in Hexton who has ever spoken to her, did so while she was sporting a vomit-encrusted jacket. With a sigh she rounds everyone up and heads back to the centre.
    Her first priority will