Free Cricket by Anna Martin

could see Nell, sitting in the front row, wearing her hat and lace gloves, with a neat leather handbag perched on her knees.
    She looked like a queen and graced him with a demure nod when he lifted a hand in greeting.
    “Sing along, stand up in the right places, and pretend to listen,” Ryan said under his breath as they slid into a pew. “And trust me.”
    He did as he was told: singing, standing, sitting, and pretending to listen for the relatively short forty-five-minute service, entertaining himself by studying the architecture, the stained-glass windows, the embroidered cloths hanging from the stone walls.
    Despite the fact that Henry wasn’t particularly a fan of the whole Christianity thing, as a sociological experiment it was fairly interesting. Having a Jewish mother meant he’d never sat through a Christian service before, and although some of the readings had a familiar cadence to them and the songs tugged at his subconscious, it was entirely new.
    Although he had absolutely no intention of admitting this to Ryan, as an experience, he hadn’t hated it.
    As they dutifully filed out of the church, Henry was more than slightly surprised when Ryan, instead of shaking the pastor’s hand, enveloped him in a tight hug, laughing.
    “Alright, mate?” Ryan asked.
    “Yeah, not bad. Not bad.”
    “This is Henry Richardson,” Ryan said, gesturing to Henry. “Nell Richardson’s great-grandson. He just moved here and is going to renovate Stretton House. Henry, this is Paul Aster. We went to school together.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” Henry said, shaking the pastor’s hand.
    “Pleasure,” Paul echoed. “Sorry I can’t stop to chat. You gonna be at the Dog for lunch?”
    “Stella’s doing beef. See you there,” Ryan said with a cheeky smile.
    They walked back to the car in silence. Henry got in, buckled up,
    “What the fuck was that about?” he demanded as they pulled out of the parking lot. “You know the guy?”
    “Yeah. Like I said, we went to school together. It’s the only reason I go to this church. Paul being there makes it slightly more bearable.”
    “This is fucking crazy,” Henry muttered.
    Ryan snorted. “Look, the guy went to university. He has a master’s degree in theology. He has spent the past decade dedicating himself to both study and prayer. If nothing else, you have to admire his devotion.”
    “Is he homophobic?” Henry demanded.
    “Not at all,” Ryan said. “I promise you now, that man knows more about scripture than you and I combined. He can preach for days on the inconsistencies in the Bible. He doesn’t gloss over them, or pretend they’re not there, because it’s clear to anyone with half a brain what they are and where they are. He did this sermon once about how the Bible has been changed over time—bits have been chopped out and changed and rewritten. He says his job is to find the meaning behind the text, find the truth and the faith in it, and preach that.”
    “I thought you said you weren’t religious.”
    “I’m agnostic,” Ryan said, signaling to turn back into the main part of the village. “All I’m saying is, you don’t need to worry about Paul starting a lynch mob to burn you at the stake for being gay. He’s not that type of man. Give him a chance.”
    Henry was silent.
    “That,” Ryan added, “and he’s my friend. We play cricket together, and he will definitely buy a round at the pub.”
    Despite himself, Henry laughed.
    “Okay,” he said. “I’ll give him a chance.”
     
     
    T HEY headed straight for the Dog and Duck and parked in the small lot at the back. The beer garden, as Henry had learned it was called, sat adjacent to the parking lot. It was a fairly small area, with a clutter of picnic benches under bright red and white umbrellas. Farther back, away from the road, there was a children’s play area—a huge adventure playground type thing, complete with a drawbridge, slides, a rope swing that looked enticingly