‘Okay.’ Beckett couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘Any new soreness or stiffness, relating to your midnight escapade?’
‘I’ll do.’
‘We can take it easy today. There’s a new film on Netflix I thought we might like.’
Gramps furrowed his brow. ‘It’s Sunday, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Beckett was piteously pleased that he’d remembered.
‘I want to go to that funny church.’
‘Funny as in amusing, or funny strange?’
Gramps quirked a bushy eyebrow, his eye twinkling as if to say, ‘You tell me?’ and for a rare, precious moment, Beckett had his grandfather back.
When he messaged Mary, she replied instantly to say that she’d come, as she had another three costumes ready for a fitting. Beckett was well aware she didn’t need his invite or his offer of a lift, as if she couldn’t find her way there herself. But, well, it was a thing now. Besides, he’d agreed to help her with the carol-concert project, and if she was bringing along costumes then that counted. He could hardly leave her to transport them and Bob on the bus.
This week the advent theme was apparently joy, and, boy, did New Life Community Church embrace it. Even Beckett couldn’t resist tapping his toes to the exuberant rhythm of the songs. A trio of teenage boys playing brass instruments created an atmosphere more carnival than Christmas.
It felt good – great – being part of something lively and jubilant, going with the flow and rolling with the silly shepherd game everyone joined in with, the ‘New Life News’ accompanied by passionate prayers, the talk from Moses about joy-hunting in dark times.
He knew enough faces now to nod and smile at a few people, and afterwards at coffee time chatted with Jay and his wife, Rosie, while Mary was fitting three other Santas, and Gramps was having an unnervingly rational conversation with an older woman who had once upon a time worked in the same office as him.
‘So, what’s the deal with you and Mary?’ Rosie asked. ‘Whenever we drop hints, she changes the subject.’
‘Drop hints?’ Jay queried. ‘Your hints are about as subtle as Cheris and Carolyn with a stack of concert tickets.’
‘Okay, whenever we happen to politely enquire whether her and this one have graduated from the friend zone, she pretends to not know what we’re talking about and changes the subject.’
Beckett took a gulp of coffee. It was still hot, and he had to cough several times before he could reply.
‘No graduation. We’re just friends.’ At least he could blame sounding strained on the coffee.
‘Maybe stop embarrassing him by asking about it, babe,’ Jay added. ‘Or her.’
‘No offence, babe, but you can’t censor coffee-mum conversation. We don’t do shame or embarrassment. It’s a safe place to share.’
‘Isn’t it also a safe place for people who’ve made it clear they don’t want to share on a particular topic?’
‘There’s nothing to share about,’ Beckett interjected, while very much ‘doing embarrassment’.
‘Why not?’ Rosie said, turning to him, so matter-of-factly that for a second he was tempted to be honest.
Because she’s clearly not interested. Because something big and awful happened, and she’s not ready to talk about it. Because when the registrar assumed I was somehow involved, she sobbed her heart out.
Because she’s the first proper friend I’ve had in six years. The best friend I’ve ever had, and I won’t risk losing that.
‘It… just isn’t like that.’
‘Puh-lease. We’ve all seen how you look at her.’
‘Then you’ll have noticed how she looks at me.’
‘Yeah,’ Rosie conceded with a nose wrinkle. ‘She’s kind of swamped with the whole new-mum thing, I suppose.’
She gave Beckett a firm poke in the chest with a pointy nail. ‘Keep your eyes open, though. When she’s ready for more, you want to be straight in there. Don’t let some hot single dad or chatty charmer swoop in and gazump you.’
‘Babe!’ Jay took her hand before she could poke Beckett again. ‘Back out. Reverse. Shut it down. Remember, we’ve talked about where the line is between friendly concern and interfering? And, gazumped? Mary is not a house.’
