Redemption Song

by Wilkinson, Laura

  My blood sugar must be low, that’s why I’m so irritable. I’ll treat myself.

  The pricing was such that it made no sense to buy only one, so Rain purchased ten doughnuts, pledging to eat one or two and take the rest to Mr Harrington’s. The sound of the merry-go-round lured her onto the pier itself and she drifted along, surreptitiously munching on the doughnuts as she went.

  She paused before the Punch and Judy kiosk, all boarded up, faded lettering across the top, and wondered what children made of it. They probably loved it. All that chasing and thumping and hitting and mayhem. Children, especially boys, loved violence. Slapstick violence. In Matthew’s last email home, he’d sounded quite distressed. Villagers were afraid to visit the mission for fear of reprisals from extremists in the region. Some of the stories he’d heard were horrific. She longed for him to come home but knew that he wouldn’t. Not yet. It was too soon, too many reminders. He’d lost his father and their last words were bitter and cruel. But hiding wouldn’t solve anything, would it?

  Isn’t that what you’ve done?

  Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer. She remembered the words from Revelation.

  She dropped the bag of doughnuts, some of which rolled out onto the wooden boards. Gulls squawked and swooped down, pecking and snatching at the cakes, the now empty bag. She recoiled, covered her face with her forearms, frightened by their screams, flapping, and hooked beaks.

  ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ She curled further into herself, the squall of the gulls intensified.

  ‘Reverend? Are you all right?’

  She unfurled, slowly, embarrassed, brushing away sugar from the corners of her mouth.

  ‘Cheeky devils. They’re pests, they are. Saw one snatch a lolly from a kiddie just the other day. Lucky he didn’t lose his hand. What do sea birds want with sweeties, I ask you?’ He turned sharply and snarled at a lone gull perched on the railings. ‘Get away with you!’

  ‘Thank you. They startled me, that’s all. Made me jump.’ She could hear the blood thumping at her temples, though she noticed it was slowing too. Eifion, he had that effect on her. So calming. So kind.

  ‘And the greedy beggars have ruined your snack.’

  She noticed his work clothes, the sawdust in his hair, and remembered his shop. And that Saffron had said she was helping him and Ceri that morning. Blast. Saffron would think she was spying on her, which wasn’t the case at all. She’d clean forgotten. Saff was so secretive these days. Rain blamed JJ.

  Eifion continued, ushering her forward. ‘Come and join us for some coffee and biscuits. If you’re very lucky there may even be a few butties left. We’re just along here. Saffron and Ceri and Joe.’

  ‘JJ?’

  Eifion nodded. ‘He prefers Joe. Probably too polite to tell you.’

  She looked ahead and saw them, sitting on the bench, all scrunched up together, very cosy. As they approached, Rain expected Saff to leap up, but she didn’t. JJ stood and offered Rain his seat, which made her feel ancient and less amiable rather than more so. She refused, politely. JJ remained standing.

  ‘Surprised to see you here, Mum. Haven’t you got visits or something?’

  ‘Cup of coffee?’ Eifion held the flask aloft.

  Rain shook her head.

  ‘She won’t drink instant,’ Saffron said.

  ‘It’s not that. Not that at all. I’m full of tea.’

  ‘Jam buttie? Or perhaps I can tempt you to a bourbon?’ Eifion smiled and offered the Tupperware box with one hand and a pack of biscuits with the other.

  ‘Thank you, no. I’m fine.’ She addressed her daughter. ‘I felt like a breath of fresh air after Mair’s place. You know what it’s like.’

  Saffron nodded. She’d complained about the heat herself the last time she’d visited Mair. Rain knew then that it wasn’t just her; Saff was incredibly cold-blooded, and if she said it was warm, it must be tropical. She had no meat on her, that’s why she felt the cold so much. Though as Rain studied her daughter, sitting on the bench on the pier, she noticed she’d gained weight. It was difficult to tell what was going on under all those baggy layers, but it showed in her face. There was a softness in her cheeks Rain hadn’t seen in almost two years. Typical Saff to be so contrary. Most girls lose weight in the first flush of love, not gain it.

  Rain looked at JJ. Could she detect if Saff’s feelings were reciprocated? Not that Saff had actually told her anything about her feelings yet. He was impossible to read.

  Feeling awkward and unsure what to do, Rain checked her watch. ‘Well, must dash. Things to do, people to see.’ She looked at the hut. ‘And I can see you’ve got your work cut out.’ She turned to Eifion. ‘It’s a lovely shop. Absolutely charming. There’s something so cheerful about rock. Looks lovely, all laid out. I used to spend hours as a girl choosing sticks for friends and family as presents from holiday.’

  ‘Certainly makes dentists cheerful,’ he replied, laughing, though she could tell her comments had pleased him. He glowed with pride. ‘You be all right getting off? Had a friend with a bird phobia once.’

  ‘I’ll be absolutely fine. But thank you. You’re very thoughtful.’

  She began to walk away, then turned back and spoke to JJ. ‘You’ll be wanting to be paid and then you can collect the rest of your tools from the chapel?’

  ‘You don’t pay me. It’s not my company, I’m just a hired hand. But yes, I’ll collect my things if you need them out of the way. There are a few jobs left but they won’t take long. Tyson should finish them this afternoon. I’ll swing by later. There’s the meeting,’ JJ said.

  Blast. She’d forgotten about the ballroom meeting. Was he meaning to come? To get involved?

  ‘That would be good. Nice to get back to normal. No offence,’ Rain said.

  ‘None taken.’

  She smiled at Eifion. ‘Thank you for your help earlier. Much appreciated.’ She walked towards the end of the pier, deciding to take a look at the shops before moseying down to Mr Harrington’s.

  Saffron was furious with her mother. She didn’t buy that horseshit about needing some fresh air. Rain knew Saffron was helping Eifion and Ceri this morning; she’d only mentioned it over breakfast. What was she doing? Checking up on her? Possibly. But what was much more likely was that she was sniffing round Eifion. The work on the chapel was finished so he’d have no call to be up there again, not unless Rain had managed to rope him into running yet another Boys’ Brigade session, or the ballroom campaign. Rain had wanted to see Eifion.

  And she was verging on downright rude with Joe. Saffron could hardly believe it. Rain was nice to everyone. Everyone. What the hell was going on?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The manse was empty when Saffron returned home after her shift at Wynne’s, the silence punctuated only by the leaking tap in the downstairs bathroom. Saffron ground the tap round as far as she could and wondered if Joe knew anything about plumbing. There was a note from Rain on the kitchen table explaining that there was a ballroom campaign meeting in the hall and she would see Saff around eight thirty ‘assuming you’re home’. Saffron drifted to the cooker, lifted the lid of the pot sitting there and turned up her nose. Yet another stew.

  She made a pot of tea and wandered upstairs to the study. Joe was busy that evening; he had to see his boss, pass on some invoices for materials, talk over the final work done on the roof, return with the final bill for Rain. She’d asked what he might do for work now the chapel contract was complete; if he would move away. ‘Not if I can help it,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll spend time working on some sculptures – the shed should be warm enough now.’

  Prospectuses lay scattered across the desk. She preferred to read hard copies, flick through the pages. She couldn’t make a decision without holding something real, substantial. ‘How old fashioned, Saffy!’ Rain had said. Saffron ran her fingertips across a glossy cover, reading the embossed lettering of the university hospital as if it were braille. She knew she must apply soon; her time in Coed Ma
wr was drawing to a close. Barts, Kings, UCL. They were all so very far away. What did Bangor, or Wrexham, have to offer? Were they an impossible commute from Coed Mawr? Her mind raced.

  It would please Rain if she didn’t return to London. Or would it? Her insides shrivelled. Perhaps her mother was healing faster than she thought. And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?

  Saffron felt bad about her uncharitable thoughts. Her mother deserved to have friends of her own age, male or female. Stretching over the desk to the shelf, ignoring the brochures, Saffron picked out a novel instead, blew the dust from its top, and lay on the small sofa staring at words on a page without absorbing any of them. Her eyes felt heavy.

  Saffron jumped, disorientated. She must have fallen asleep. The air was fuzzy with sunlit dust motes. She checked the clock; it was only a little after seven; she’d not slept for long: fifteen minutes at most. Stretching, she pondered what to do.

  I could go to the meeting, show my support. Mum would like it.

  The welcome Saffron received was indeed warm. Rain leaped from her seat to grab another chair from the stack at the edge of the room. A dozen or so people, including Mrs Evans, Mair Shawcroft, and Mr Roberts, sat around trestles that had been pushed together to form a makeshift boardroom table. There were piles of paper and pens scattered around, a jug and water glasses, tea cups, and a plate of crumbs and a couple of broken Rich Tea biscuits. In front of Mr Roberts was the chapel iMac. After a cursory wave in her direction, he returned to his former position: nose almost pressed up against the screen, brows furrowed in an expression of absolute bewilderment. The others nodded and smiled in Saffron’s direction.

  Rain placed the chair next to Mair Shawcroft and Saffron sat down. ‘Lovely to see you here, cariad. We could do with some fresh blood, new ideas. The tea dance was a roaring success and raised some cash –’

  ‘Mum said.’

  ‘It was full of old farts, of course,’ Mair continued.

  A couple of people tittered and Mr Roberts looked up from the screen. ‘Now, I wouldn’t say that …’

  Mair interrupted him. ‘I would. It’s all very well getting leaflets printed outlining our case, rallying support in the town, but who in hell – sorry, Rev – is going to deliver them?’ She swept her gaze around the table.

  Mr Roberts sighed. ‘We’re not all decrepit.’ He stared at Saffron as he spoke.

  Rain spoke. ‘Indeed, we’re not!’

  A ripple of laughter.

  ‘I’d happily deliver leaflets,’ Saffron replied.

  ‘Me too,’ said Mrs Evans. ‘I’ll see if I can get Ceri and some of her mates on board. Eifion, too. He has a hut; it’s in his interest.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Rain piped up.

  She’d love that, Saffron thought, having Eifion involved. ‘How about some posters, for people to display in windows? Do you have enough money? A petition, to present to the voting councillors? After all, they hold the power,’ she said. It would be fun to get involved, something to occupy her when she wasn’t working or seeing Joe.

  Her ideas sparked an animated discussion and Saffron’s thoughts drifted. The voices became a distant burr and she jumped when the door slammed.

  She turned around to see who’d entered. Joe. He looked as surprised to see her as she imagined she did to see him.

  ‘Sorry for interrupting,’ he said, his eyes fixed on Saffron.

  What the hell? He’d said he had to go and see his boss, sort out invoices. Why did he lie? And why is he here?

  ‘It’s always good to have new members,’ Mair said, smiling.

  Rain chipped in then, inviting Joe to sit, asking if he’d like a cup of tea.

  ‘Thanks, but I can’t stay. I came to let you know that the ballroom is a bat maternity roost. Thought it might be important for the campaign, what you present to the council.’

  ‘Bats? What on earth have bats got to do with it?’ Rain said, pushing a cup of tea at Joe, despite his polite refusal.

  ‘They’re protected, by law. Any work will have to be done sensitively, depending on the time of year.’

  ‘And you can bet your bottom dollar that those bastards – sorry, Rev – who want to tear the ballroom down, wouldn’t know sensitive if it came up and slapped them round the chops,’ Mair said.

  ‘Precisely,’ Joe said.

  Mair leaned over to Saffron and whispered, ‘Clever as well as handsome, isn’t he?’ It was loud enough for everyone to hear and to her horror Saffron felt herself blushing. She dropped her gaze to her lap but not before she saw Joe flush in her peripheral vision. Fuck.

  ‘Right, well, I’ll … be off,’ Joe said.

  ‘Come again,’ Mair said.

  ‘I might just do that.’

  After the door shut behind him, Saffron counted to thirty, before standing. ‘Excuse me, I’ve just remembered something I have to do. Mum’ll fill me in.’ And with that, she walked as slowly as she could muster to the exit. As the door closed behind her, she broke into a run.

  The Land Rover was parked on the road. So he’d waited, perhaps knowing she would follow. That was a good sign, at least. As she approached she began to feel foolish. What would she say? He wasn’t answerable to her. She had no right to be cross with him. She should have stayed put. Her pace slowed, though she knew he must see her in the wing mirror.

  ‘Climb in a moment.’ He leant out of the window. ‘Let me explain.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ She coughed and tapped the toe of her boot on the pavement.

  ‘There’s every need. You think I lied.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I’m off to Derek’s now. But I’ve been back to the ballroom – I had my suspicions when we were there, but I needed to be sure, and now that I am, I needed to tell them. I remembered your mum mentioning the meeting. I had no idea you’d be there.’

  ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to justify your actions to me.’ It was strange, speaking to him like this: him in the Land Rover, her on the pavement, though they were separated by more than a vehicle door.

  ‘You don’t trust me.’

  ‘I do. Go. It’s getting late. You’ll miss him.’

  She watched him pull away, feeling uncertain and adrift. Unsure what to do – she couldn’t go back to the meeting – she retreated to the manse study and stared at pages of the novel, without reading any of them.

  In the kitchen, Rain was stirring the stew. The table had been wiped clean, placemats set, and a bottle of red wine rested in the centre with glasses either side of it.

  ‘Take a seat. Pour yourself a glass. I’m so glad you waited. I hate eating alone.’

  Saffron didn’t like to say that she hadn’t, so merely nodded and did as instructed, pouring her mother a glass too. Rain served a steaming bowl of stew and sat opposite. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes. ‘For what we are about to receive, blah, blah.’ She opened her eyes. ‘He knows what I mean. No need to spell it out every time. Cheers! Here’s to the new roof and a new ballroom.’ She clinked her glass against Saffron’s which still sat on the table.

  Saffron stabbed at a lump of potato; overcooked, it disintegrated as she pushed the fork through the flesh. She wondered why Rain didn’t mention her sudden exit. She must have known she’d gone after Joe. ‘What about the kitchen, in the church hall? Hasn’t there been talk of it being modernised?’

  ‘It is only talk, Saffy.’ Rain was cheerful. ‘There’s other, much more crucial, work that needs doing first. The damp in the hall for one. And there’s no money left in the pot.’

  ‘For sure.’ Saffron stirred her fork round the vegetables. Fat gleamed on the surface of the gravy.

  ‘Eat up, Saffy.’

  ‘I’m not really hungry. Sorry.’ She put down her fork and sipped at the wine.

  ‘What a shame. It’s your favourite.’ Rain stretched over and squeezed Saffron’s hand. Saffron waited. Would her mum mention the meeting on the pier, apologise for her rudeness?

 
; ‘How long is the drive to Bangor, or Wrexham?’ It came out in a rush, garbled.

  ‘Goodness. I’m not sure.’ Rain looked at the ceiling. ‘Less than an hour to Bangor, traffic depending. Why?’

  ‘Joe would know for sure.’

  Rain blanched. Then, casually, she said, ‘Would he? How?’

  ‘He travels about a bit.’

  ‘I had no idea.’ Rain sounded sharp, all trace of her good humour gone.

  The conversation was not going the way Saffron had hoped. She tried to steer it back to purpose. She wanted to sound out the notion of applying to repeat her Foundation Year One somewhere closer to Coed Mawr.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about JJ?’ Rain put down her cutlery, her forearms rested on the table, fingers linked, as if she was about to say grace again.

  Saffron studied the grain of the wood. ‘Not really.’

  Tell her. What’s the problem? She knows about Ben. It’s almost two years. Just say it: I am seeing Joe. No. Big. Deal.

  ‘You’re in love with him.’

  Saffron almost choked on a gulp of wine.

  ‘Why have you kept it from me? I don’t understand. All those evenings when you said you were going out with Ceri. You were lying. Why?’ Rain continued.

  ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t like it. Look at you now.’ She ventured a glance at her mother. Rain’s eyes gleamed too brightly; she wore a fixed smile, one of pity, and it irked. Her mum had no need to feel pity for her. She was happy, happier than she’d ever been. Saffron was enraged. How dare she?

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like it, Saff. I’m frightened for you. You’re vulnerable. So easy to take advantage of.’

  ‘As are you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you do.’ Saffron held Rain’s gaze. They were like children, engaged in a battle of wills. Who would crumble first?

  Saffron watched her mother’s eyes grow redder, more watery. Then, so suddenly it made Saffron jolt, Rain clapped her hands, rolled her eyes and laughed. The laughter was high-pitched and hollow. ‘You think Eifion likes me?’