CHAPTER 12
I rode into the school yard, looking at the surprisingly small number of bicycles in the stands. This was yet another of those schools that had decided that they preferred dozens of cars fighting for space outside the gates to children arriving healthily under their own steam, all in the interests of “road safety” as they saw it. Bizarre.

I smiled at the thought, remembering Naomi’s comment about motherhood. Perhaps I was getting broody, after all. That day’s duties were a general chat on stranger danger, followed by a postcode marking exercise on whatever bikes had made it into the yard past the beady eye of the head teacher. It was getting very close to Christmas, so I was adding little touches about strange fat men in red and white furry suits, which may sound more than a little “bah, humbug” but was triggered by the discovery that one of the store Santas already working had been a little economical with his past history when applying for the job, and it was only a very delayed CRB check that had brought up some of his more interesting previous activities. Nothing huge, just supplying alcohol to people rather young, but enough to get him removed. I had thought of Shan’s experiences at that point with a shudder.

“Hello children, Miss Hodges, my name is Sergeant Annie Price, and I am here to talk to you about how to be safe”

Half an hour later and we were out on the tarmac of the playground, as I fettled a number of bicycle-shaped objects into something resembling roadworthiness. The boys wanted to look over the S&W, and all the usual questions followed.

Could I do stunts?
Where did I carry my gun?
Did I have to make a flying dive from the saddle when arresting someone?
How fast could I pedal?
Could I turn on the blue lights? (Yes)
Could I do wheelies, and did I want to see selected boys do them?
Did I have a boyfriend? (Ring shown)
Was I going to have a nice dress?

And then…”My dad says you are a pervert. Wossa pervert?”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Wayne. Wayne Kerr”

Oh dear, oh dear. “Wayne, sometimes people can be a little different to others, and that makes people not like them. That’s silly, because they are still people. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sandeep. He hasn’t got as good a bike as me”

“So, you hate him because his bike isn’t as good, aye?”

“Course not.”

“There you are. Now, all you need to tell your dad is that you met a lady police officer who gets married in September. See what he says.”

“Is he a nice man?”

“Who, your dad?”

“No, silly! Your boyfriend!”

I smiled at Wayne, trying to see just how his eight year old brain was working.

“Wayne, I think he is a very, very nice man, otherwise why would I marry him, aye?”

More schools, same basic drill. Classroom, lecture, playground, all preceded by a discussion with the Head to dig out any local issues of concern to him or her. It was amazing the level of security that some of them had installed, with cameras at all angles. One rather formidable woman explained how she had two members of staff dedicated to trawling through the recordings looking for regular ‘visitors’ to the playground railings. It turned out that they had a contract with the Woods for their security equipment, so I reminded the good harridan that Naomi could probably do her a deal with some facial recognition software. Whatever happened to a solitary teacher with a bell? Then again, Darren had suffered horrendously whilst supposedly in a place of safety, and as for Chantelle…

Merry arrived on the twentieth of December, just as I was returning home with a full set of panniers from the supermarket. Her car looked odd in our drive, used as we were to having most visitors arrive by bike, and that was as true that day as ever.

“Cooee, Annie!”

Before I could finish getting off the Surly I was engulfed in a tsunami of Ginny, followed by Kate and Shan. One solo, one tandem and Merry’s little Nissan.

“I suppose you want the kettle on, Ginny?”

“Fu…er, I mean yes please!”

She dropped her voice a little. “Puts the dampeners on free expression, girl, having the prewoman along, yeah?”

“The what?”

“Oh, Shan found some old uberfem literature we had lying around. Usual crap, lots of good stuff in it, you just need to set your BS filters to stun. TEA!!!!! NOW!!!”

I looked over to the slim figure standing lost between two suitcases. “Merry, love, I did warn you we could be a little unconventional! Ginny, give her a hand while I unlock the door. Shan, want to help with the groceries?”

Twenty minutes later, and my living room was full of women, tea at hand, and I made the introductions. Merry was as direct as ever.

“Ginny, you are the one that brought this girl to us, yes?”

“Sort of, yeah, still needs some polishing, still a bit lardy. Don’t you look at me like that, Annie, Tabby told me about those kebabs the other night!”

“What kebabs?”

“The ones I was guessing about and that blush just confessed to”

Merry looked a little puzzled. “Tabby?”

I smiled across the room. “Jessica’s replacement. They are both in the bedroom. No, Ginny, don’t even think about it”

The dynamics were complex, as Merry struggled to keep track of Ginny’s random mental leaps, Kate wrestled her grin down, Shan just giggled and the red-haired one carried on regardless. I smiled again at Merry.

“As you can see, sanity is only an occasional visitor to our house. Sure you are happy staying here?”

Merry’s answering smile was melting. “All I have seen and heard here has been born of love and friendship. How could one ever object? Now, tomorrow is Sunday. I need to know more of your church. Annie, will you honour me by accompanying me on the Lord’s day?”

I looked over at the others. “How long are you stopping, girls? Fancy a sing-song tomorrow?”

Kate looked at her wife. “If you have room, love?”

“Three beds and a sofa? Shan?”

“I was gonna, like, go over to Daz’s place…”

One phone call, half an hour of waiting, and his bike was in the garage with the others. I dug a coke out of the fridge for him.

“Darren?”

“Yeah?”

“Lipstick…it’s Shan’s colour, not yours”

Still she settled better among women, still she had problems around men other than the closest members of our odd extended, extending family, but the teenaged girl almost beaten out of her was clearly alive and well, thank all the gods.

“Darren, would your Granddad and Nan want to come to church tomorrow? With all of us?”

“Dunno, lahk, want me to ask?”

“Please.”

We had pizza that night, after Eric got in and Darren had been seen off home by a girl who got more alive every day, and I was truly grateful he had had the maturity he had shown in Wales. So pretty, still so fragile.

Why had I set an alarm for a Sunday morning? Ceasing shift working had left me relishing the fact that I got to lie in bed with my man on a regular basis, but some bloody relative was insisting I get up and formal on one of those mornings, the cow. Ginny, Kate and Shan were going in lycra, so why did I have to get all done up in dress and heels? I started to laugh as I dressed, and Eric asked why.

"Just tickled me, love. Here I am, getting dressed up in a way I could once only dream of, and I am resenting it because I can’t go by bike!”

“Want me to undress you later?”

“As ever, but we have company, so no noises of animal lust, aye?”

“Arsebollocks”

“Eric, love, you realise we are even sharing swearwords now? You’ll definitely have to marry me! It’s expected, aye?”

The girls rode to St Nick’s, as Merry drove Eric and myself, and under her disapproving glare I attached a spare hat she had brought along. Bloody stupid thing, but it was Merry’s morning. We sang, and we repeated the prayers, and Merry and the Woods went forward to take their Communion meal as we poor hypocritical atheists stayed back. The sermon was a Simon classic, based on the parables of the beam and the mote and the widow’s mite.

He was in full throttle, condemning those who sought to find the smallest error in others, to shout their own piety, and once again I realised that–no, not for good or bad, apart from his religious beliefs I could not differ with him–I realised that he was absolutely true to his faith and to what he saw as doing the right thing. There was always something behind his eyes, and the only word that could begin to describe it was ‘love’

His treatment of poor Melanie showed that at its finest. The sod almost had me in tears with his passion, and I had to remind myself that I was an atheist, pure and simple, several times. But the songs were wonderful.

“Good to see you again, Annie. When will you next play for us? Christmas carol service? I have been nagging Steph to get out for it, and you two do play so well together”

I looked at Eric. “Interested, love?”

“Why not? I rather feel Merry will drag us along anyway, so we might as well have some fun”

Simon looked over to my cousin.

“You are…?”

“Merry, Miriam, my cousin, Simon, our sort-of-vicar”

He grinned. “Your sort-of-presiding-at-your-wedding-vicar, Annie!”

There is only one phrase that could describe Merry at that point: a rabbit in headlights. Oh dear me, and was that the hint of a blush? Eric tugged my arm.

“Annie, can you have a quick look at Kate’s tandem?”

As we left the porch, he whispered “Give them five minutes…you devious cow”

I put on my most innocent face. How could he possibly make such accusations?