Fisher of Men

by Pam Rhodes

  “Probably, but it didn’t do much good, did it? Where was God when John was playing Mr and Mrs in hotel rooms with some other woman?”

  “And for you? Is having God in your life important to you?”

  She turned to look at him as she considered her answer.

  “I’d like it to be, but I don’t feel God’s done me any favours lately.”

  “The trouble is that, as human beings, we are both blessed and cursed with our own free will. God doesn’t make our decisions for us. He leaves that to us – and what a mess we get ourselves into!”

  “Well, John didn’t decide to be ill. That wasn’t down to his free will, was it? It wasn’t his fault – and I certainly don’t hold with that daft idea that illness is some sort of punishment. If John needs any punishment for what he’s put us through, then the boys and I are the ones with the right to decide on that. But honestly, I don’t think he’s being punished and I don’t think it’s his fault – or mine. So, if there is a God, it must be down to him!”

  “It seems to me,” said Neil, “from the little I know, that cancer is very much an illness of our time and lifestyle. Of course it’s not John’s fault – but I don’t believe it’s God’s fault either. It’s just one of those dreadful things that happen. No warning, no blame…”

  “And apparently no hope either!” she finished bitterly.

  “Is that what the doctors have said?”

  “No, not really. They wouldn’t be that black and white, would they? But John’s done a lot of reading, and so have I. The future doesn’t look very rosy right now.”

  “Well,” said Neil gently, “I think that it’s when life doesn’t seem fair, when we’re hurting and lost and in despair, that God is right there with us. You may not agree with that right now, but from all I’ve heard from other people and all I’ve learned along the way, I really do believe that’s true.”

  “I hope so.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I do hope so, because if God is real, and if all we’re taught about him loving us is true, then I need him to do his stuff for us right now. We need a miracle.”

  Her eyes shone with tears as she spoke. “So if you’ve got a hotline to him, let him know that, will you? We need a miracle, and we need it now.”

  “I need a woman in my life.”

  Graham took a gulp of beer, then set the glass down.

  “I’m thirty-one years old, and if I’m ever going to be in my prime, then this is as good as it gets!”

  “Are you talking about finding a life partner – a wife?”

  Graham grinned at Neil. “Well, given my track record, anything lasting more than a few weeks will seem like a life partner to me! I’d like a deeply meaningful relationship, of course – at least that’s what I’ll put on the application form – but honestly, any half-decent girl who’s prepared to spend an evening in my company would seem pretty meaningful to me right now!”

  “Application form?” queried Neil, taking a mouthful of his own beer.

  “On the internet. I’ve found a site that looks quite good. Dream Partners, that’s what it’s called.”

  “I think I’ve seen the advert for that on telly. Is that the one that doesn’t just go on appearance, but looks for deeper compatibility?”

  “Nothing deep about it. It’s free, that’s why I like it. And it’s a looker I’m after. Can’t be doing with all this compatibility rubbish! Either we fancy each other or we don’t!”

  “Then you’re probably talking to the wrong friend here. It’s the compatibility bit that I’d advocate, along with the ‘loving and cherishing till death do us part’.”

  Graham nodded with understanding. “Yes, you’re a man of the cloth, so I knew that’s what you’d say – but I’m a man of the world, and I could do with a good mate who’s not listening with his dog collar for the next five minutes.”

  “OK, try me.”

  “Well, this bird has sent me a message – and I don’t know what to say.”

  “Had you contacted her, then?”

  “Yes – well, not exactly contacted her. I saw her picture, so opened up her profile online. Apparently, that flags up to her that I’ve been showing an interest – and she’s practically bitten my hand off! That must mean she’s keen, mustn’t it?”

  “I reckon so. What did she say?”

  “She said her name is Gemma, she’s twenty-three…”

  “So quite a bit younger than you.”

  “… but she sounds very mature, and I think I’m young for my age, don’t you?”

  Neil chuckled into his beer.

  “She’s a beautician,” Graham continued. “They’re always gorgeous, aren’t they? She works in one of the big department stores in Oxford Street.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “About ten miles from here, that’s all. Nothing, really!”

  “So? Are you going to meet up with her?”

  “Look, I’ve printed off her profile sheet so that you can see for yourself.”

  He pulled out a neatly folded piece of A4 from his inside pocket, and spread it with a flourish on the pub table.

  “Feast your eyes on that!”

  A man of the cloth he might be, but Neil’s eyes practically popped out on stalks when he saw the glamorous, scantily clad girl who posed provocatively in the picture.

  “Wow!” he said at last. “I don’t think she’s a girl you’ll be taking home to meet your mother.”

  Graham picked up the paper to peer at the picture closely. “Looks to me like she’d have a good bedside manner.”

  “Have you replied to her yet?”

  “No! That’s why I need your help. What should I say? Should I play it cool? Should I spin her a line to make myself sound more interesting?”

  “You are interesting. You are a highly intelligent and respected member of the teaching profession…”

  “I’m thirty-one years old, two stone overweight, and my hobbies are drinking real ale, playing rugby and watching cowboy films.”

  “So tell her that. If she doesn’t like what she hears, you can keep looking online to find a girl who does want someone just like you.”

  “Look, Neil, you know what they say about a bird in the hand. This girl has shown an interest in me. This is the girl I’d like to meet.”

  “So what does she know about you?”

  Graham’s expression was suddenly sheepish. He pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it towards Neil.

  “But this picture looks nothing like you!”

  “It is me – well, it was! That photo was taken five years ago at my sister’s wedding.”

  “But you were five years younger then…”

  “…. and a stone lighter!” finished Graham. “Neil, mate, can you imagine a bird like that taking a second look at me as I really am? Slightly balding, pot bellied, with a taste for takeaway kebabs and curries. So I just spiced up my description a bit…”

  “Interests,” quoted Neil, “Reading, youth work, films and sport.”

  “I do play rugby and I enjoy a good DVD.”

  “Reading? Youth work?”

  “I read the riot act to the little blighters at school, and if you don’t call sorting them out ‘youth work’, then I don’t know what is!”

  “Non-smoker,” continued Neil.

  “I can take it or leave it. Well, I could probably leave it for a few hours while we went out. She probably wouldn’t notice.”

  “Income bracket – sixty to eighty thousand pounds?”

  “I’ll get that if I ever decide to become a headteacher.”

  “Have you applied to be a headteacher?”

  “And be buried in paperwork? Not likely!”

  “Hello, Neil! How nice to bump into you like this!”

  Both men looked up with a start as a warm, amused female voice cut into their conversation. Neil smiled to see it was Wendy Lambert from the music group.

  “Wendy! What a pleasant surprise.”

 
; “Come on, let’s go and sit over there by the window.”

  The girl who spoke was carrying two glasses of white wine as she appeared beside Wendy. She stared good-naturedly towards Graham as she went on, “I get enough of my next-door neighbour at home without having to spend time with him down the pub too.”

  “Neil, you know Debs, don’t you?” gushed Wendy. “She plays the flute with the music group whenever she can get to church on Sunday mornings.”

  “I’m in the police,” explained Debs. “Shift work.”

  “And you were making a right noise starting up that bike of yours at the crack of dawn yesterday morning!” moaned Graham.

  “I have to be on duty at six.”

  “Can’t you get a nice quiet car, then – or a push-bike?”

  “Need your beauty sleep, do you?” teased Debs, sitting down beside him. “Go on, shove up! I’ve changed my mind. We’re joining you.”

  Neil’s nose twitched as Wendy’s sweet, musky perfume drifted in his direction as she eased herself into the seat beside him.

  “What’s that?” said Debs, grabbing towards the internet details Graham had been showing Neil.

  “It’s nothing!” snapped Graham, snatching the paper up and stuffing it into his pocket.

  “Give it here,” demanded Debs. “I want to see it.”

  “Look, it’s nothing to do with you, so mind your own business!”

  “You’re trying internet dating, aren’t you?”

  Debs’ eyes danced with humour as she looked at him.

  “Well, you’re going to have to spruce yourself up a bit. You didn’t say what you really look like and what your personal habits are, did you?”

  Graham squirmed with embarrassment. “Debs, you’re a pain! Push off and take your drink somewhere else!”

  “You didn’t tell them how you still live with your mother, never walk anywhere, only shower every other day…”

  “How do you know that?” asked Graham indignantly.

  “Because you sing in the shower. No, I take that back – you bellow in the shower – so I guess the whole street knows you only shower every other day. To be honest, we couldn’t cope with any more.”

  “You two sound just like my brother and me,” interjected Wendy.

  “Our families live next door to each other,” agreed Debs. “Our mums always looked after each other’s children without thinking too much about who actually belonged where. So Graham feels as much like a big brother to me as my real brother, Darren, ever did.”

  “You’re still living at home too!” accused Graham.

  “I’m twenty-four, and saving up for a deposit on a house. You’re thirty-one – and you’re drinking your deposit.”

  “Perhaps,” suggested Wendy, “he’s looking on the internet for a sugar mummy who will provide him with a roof over his head, and see to all his worldly needs?”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” grinned Graham.

  “And what about you, Neil?” asked Wendy as she gazed at him fondly. “Are you looking for love too?”

  Neil’s cheeks immediately reddened. “Ah, not really – I mean, not at all. Well, I wouldn’t mind if I came across some nice girl who was willing to take me on – but I’m not really looking…”

  “You look terrified!” laughed Debs.

  “Aren’t we all?” agreed Graham. “You women are terrifying.”

  “Well,” said Debs, “if you’re serious about wanting to find the girl of your dreams, we’re going to have to give you a helping hand.”

  “A haircut.” Wendy nodded in agreement as she looked Graham up and down. “And a new wardrobe. A fitness regime, a strict diet – and eyebrow shaping. Your brows practically meet in the middle!”

  “I’m not going on a diet,” said Graham moodily.

  Debs took his chin and turned his head towards her so that she could look at him in critical close-up.

  “You’re a mess, Graham – but with a bit of work, there may be hope for you.”

  “Thanks a lot,” was the grumbled reply.

  “And I can start right now,” said Debs as she rummaged around in her enormous handbag. “Ah, here they are!” She held up a pair of tweezers with a triumphant flourish.

  “Get off me!” Graham was laughing as he pushed her away.

  “Internet dating!” snorted Debs as she put the tweezers back into her handbag. “You’d have to be desperate to resort to that!”

  “It’s the modern way to make friends, though, isn’t it?” said Neil. “When people have such busy lives, it’s a way of widening their circle of friends beyond just those they work with or live next door to.”

  “Would you ever go on internet dating, Wendy?” asked Graham.

  Wendy looked thoughtful before replying. “I’ve honestly never thought about it, but then I have a large circle of friends already – some I went to school with here, others from university, and now quite a lot through work. I don’t think I’d ever need to meet people that way.”

  “But do you have an image of your ideal man?” Graham went on. “Because if you knew someone like him in your present circle, presumably you’d have snapped him up already. So what’s wrong with a little help from modern technology when it comes to finding Mr Right?”

  “My ideal man….” continued Wendy dreamily. “He’d be about twenty-five years old, not too tall, certainly not skinny – in fact, quite broad-shouldered would be rather nice. Dark hair, curly perhaps, not too long. A good listener and well educated. And I like a man with depth of character – you know, someone who has passion and commitment. After all, we’ll be partners for life. I’m not really interested in anything less.”

  Debs looked at Neil. Neil said nothing as his face became redder.

  “Come on, Wendy!” said Debs. “We came out to catch up on the gossip, so let’s leave these boys to finish their drinks in peace and quiet.”

  And with a whiff of perfume and a friendly wave, the girls moved away.

  Neil and Graham sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks.

  “You’re in there, you know!”

  Neil raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “That Wendy fancies you.”

  “Oh no,” spluttered Neil. “She’s the leading light of the music group. We have to work together quite a bit…”

  “She’s certainly working on you, that’s for sure.”

  Not knowing how to answer, Neil fell silent as he picked up his glass. He wasn’t used to girls “fancying” him – and Wendy was a particularly lovely and talented girl. There was no way that he would hold any interest for a cultured and capable young woman like her!

  But still, he allowed the possibility to roll around in his mind for a minute or two, because if it were true, then he couldn’t quite decide if he was pleased – or scared witless.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I’ve rung you three times. Why haven’t you rung back?”

  That was his mother’s opening line when he answered the phone. No niceties. No “Hello, dear.” Not even an enquiry about the weather.

  He took a deep breath to calm his reaction to her before he spoke.

  “Hello, Mum. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

  “So they’re over-working you, are they? I told you this wasn’t the job for you…”

  “No, not over-worked, just busy in a very challenging and enjoyable way.”

  “You have a very odd understanding of enjoyment, Neil.”

  Neil’s breath hissed through his teeth. There was no reasoning with her, so he wouldn’t bother to try. Instead, he changed the subject.

  “And how are you, Mum? Is your sciatica still playing you up?”

  “It will always play me up, Neil. You could never understand the pain I go through. No one could,” she ended with a dramatic sigh.

  “Have you been to see Dr Jones again? What does he say?”

  “Nothing. He took early retirement, right out of the blue. Can you believe it? Broke my heart! T
hey’ve handed me over to a whippersnapper who’s barely out of junior school. And it’s a woman! When it comes to doctors and newsreaders, I want a man!”

  “But don’t you need more medication? You’ll have to find at least one doctor in the practice you’d be prepared to see.”

  “Oh, I’m dealing with it, Neil. I’ve made my feelings very clear to the Practice Manager!”

  Heaven help them, thought Neil.

  “How’s your dandruff?” she enquired sharply. “Are you buying that shampoo I told you about?”

  No, he thought. “Yes,” he said.

  “And are you avoiding dairy products after that very suspicious rash you developed last year? It must have been painful, bearing in mind where on your body it was…”

  “That was just stress, Mum. I was taking my final exams.”

  “Cut out dairy products. It always works for me, and you and I must have the same metabolism.”

  His silence at that point brought this line of conversation to a swift end.

  “Anyway,” she said petulantly, “it shouldn’t be me having to ring you. A boy should want to ring his mother. A fine son, you are! Got time for all your new friends down there in Dumbridge, I’ve no doubt, but when it comes to remembering the people you should be grateful to, you just can’t make the effort…”

  Her voice faded into the background as Neil’s attention was suddenly diverted towards his front garden. Surely that was his lawnmower he could hear? He pulled back the net curtains just in time to see Claire giving him a cheery wave as she walked past the window pushing the electric mower. Whatever was she doing here? This was a nice surprise!

  “… Saturday morning. I’ll let you know the train time. And I don’t want any lumps in the mattress. You know how I suffer with my back.”

  “What?” asked Neil, suddenly realizing, as he caught the last few words of his mother’s monologue, that it sounded as if she was planning to visit him – soon.

  “Sorry, Mum, can you just recap on that again? This line isn’t brilliant.”

  “Next Saturday, Neil. I’ll be at Paddington at midday. You can pick me up from there.”

  “You’re travelling alone?”