Free A Private Business by Barbara Nadel Page B

in Jesus, came and went frequently.
    â€œWho’s Rachel?” he asked.
    â€œRachel Cole. Another churchy type. They’re all at prayer right now.”
    â€œWhat? On their knees? On the floor?”
    â€œIn the living room. Yup.”
    The picture that came into Lee’s mind was, to him, odd. Maria, the comedian with a mouth like a bag of dirty washing, on her knees praying with dowdy women in a room that looked like it had been designed by some clueless Premier League footballer, but he didn’t share any of that with Neil. “Leave you to it?”
    â€œYeah,” Neil said. “I’m on it.” He sounded resigned. Surveillance was generally boring.
    Lee took his jacket off and began to make his way to the bathroom. That skanky shower was waiting. As he passed in front of Chronus’s perch, the bird woke up and yelled, “Goal!”
    â€œYou could actually see the moment the spirit entered the boy’s body,” Betty said as Maria put a mug of tea into her hands.
    â€œThat’s amazing.”
    â€œIt’s a pity you couldn’t be there, Maria,” the man with the long, ascetic face, Pastor Grint, said.
    Maria had been obliged to spend time with her mother. “Yes, it’s a pity,” she said.
    She gave Pastor Grint and Rachel mugs of coffee and then handed around a plate of biscuits. “But it’s really good of you all to pop in.”
    They, or rather the pastor and Betty, usually did if Maria couldn’t manage to make one of the services. Betty had been round the previous day as well. It was nice because it made Maria feel included and involved even when she couldn’t attend.
    â€œYoung Peter Randall had a terrible fight when he first came to church,” the pastor continued. “Satan had taken root in his soul and it was only due to the persistence of his mother that he is where he is with God today.”
    â€œHe spoke in tongues,” Rachel said.
    Maria saw Betty close her eyes as if in the act of wishing for the power to speak in tongues too. It was the sort of thing Maria had done when she was a child—closing her eyes and wishing for something. “The Spirit may descend upon any of us at any time provided we want it enough and are prepared,” Grint said. He looked at Maria. “I think that you, particularly, want it badly.”
    Instinctively Maria lowered her gaze. One never looked any priest in the eye back in the old days, even though she knew that Pastor Grint was very different from them. “Yes.”
    â€œOf course she does.” Betty put a hand on Maria’s shoulder and smiled.
    The sense of guilt that swept over Maria was instant. “I’m so sorry about that gig in Camden.” She began to cry.
    â€œOh, there’s no need for that. There’s no need for that.” Pastor Grint put his mug down, walked over to Maria and placed his arms around her. “You stopped. You couldn’t carry on, God couldn’t let you. He knows what you really want and he’s trying to help you to achieve it.”
    Maria put her arms around his neck and wept into his collar. Betty, who had been touching Maria too, whipped her hand away as if she’d just been scalded.
    Martin knew what the score was with those Muslims! There was a young bloke who looked like he fancied himself rotten outside the house of that smart woman whose husband had been murdered. A right preening peacock with his gelled-up hair, big silver trainers, his shiny leather jacket and his jeans so tight you could almost see his sperm. Randy shit was lurking about after that young daughter of hers. Bloody Asians! They couldn’t sniff about after women could they? Had to be little more than kids! The dead man’s wife was far more of a catch than that gangly girl was, to Martin’s way of thinking. She was a proper lady. The girl was just a bit of a kid. Pretty though … And sweet …
    But still the