April Flash Tale #2 | "Belief"

St Mary’s Church

Hendon, Northwest London

Ralph picks a quiet time to drop off the toys. He doesn’t want to make it a big deal. In and out. In, out, and then home. Okay, home after picking up a chicken schnitzel and chips from the Sunny Hill café.

Ralph sighs. He has a lot of takeaways these days. Of course, he had soup for lunch, but does two minutes in a microwave count as home cooking. Better than nothing, maybe. And isn’t that how Ralph feels these days? He’s not the worse. He’s not rock bottom.

He enters the church and walks down the hall. There’s no one in the office. Perfect. He puts down the two bags. Both are Tesco ‘bags for life’. 30p these days, but everything’s more expensive now. Everything is on the verge of being out of reach.

He turns to go, and there, as if from nowhere, as if from a hole in the ground, is fifty-something women in a rainbow-striped jumper.

Ralph puts a hand to his chest. He laughs. “You gave me a fright, Maureen.”

She smiles, points at the Tesco bags. “What you got there.”

“Just some old stuff of Suzie’s. Baby toys. I saw you were looking for donations.”

Maureen smiles. “I suppose she’s too old for them now.” She bends down, pokes around in the bags. “Mmm. They grow up so fast. I haven’t seen your Suzie at playgroup in…” She straights up. “Ages.” She looks Ralph in the eye. “Haven’t see you in ages.”

“Busy,” he says. Which is true. Which is not an honest reason for staying away from St. Mary’s. The real reason is belief. The lack of it. The loss. After all that’s happened, Ralph isn’t interested in being thankful, he has no desire to be with people.

She reaches for him, pats his arm. “You lost weight, Ralph?”

He nods. The divorce-diet. And there’s something in Maureen’s expression – isn’t there always? – that makes Ralph confess.

“To be honest with you, Sheila and me have split up. Suzie’s living with her mum.”

To say those words out loud. Funny how it can feel like a slap in the face. Ralph can feel a heat in his ears, in the back of his neck. It’s shame and rage and grief all mixed into one.

Maureen changes the arm pat to a hand squeeze. “I heard, Ralph. I’m sorry.” There’s something so intimate about a woman like Maureen holding his hand. Not sexual, but…it has an effect. It’s personal.

“Some of those toys are from a while back,” Maureen says, swinging Ralph’s hand back and forth in a way that manages to be odd and soothing at the same time. “Baby toys.”

Ralph nods. “Had a good clear out,” he says. “Should go to a good cause.”

“Thank you,” Maureen says. “You know how important young people are to the parish. And they need looking after, don’t they.”

Ralph nods.

Maureen smiles at him. “And you need looking after too.” She laughs softly. “Need fattening up.” She nods at him. “Come home with me, I’ll make your dinner.” She squeezes his hand.

Such kindness. Isn’t that how Maureen has always been? Something about her. Maternal. Ralph imagines letting her hold him, wrapping her arms around him. He could let it all out.

“Better get going,” says Ralph, clearing his throat.

Maureen shakes her head lightly. “Come home with me. Time to let me take care of you.” She smiles. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Ralph’s eyes fill with tears. But he won’t cry. He won’t fall to pieces. He’ll say his goodbyes to Maureen, he’ll pick up his dinner from Sunny Hill, he’ll eat off the folding table in the sitting room. He’ll watch Heartbeat on ITV3. He’ll watch Midsomer Murders. Something about those old repeats that helps him breath, helps him carry on.

He clears his throat again. He wipes his nose. He lets go of Maureen’s hand. There, on the floor, his car keys. He picks them up, jingles them. “Careless,” he says, smiling. “I’m all right,” he says, heading back into the hall.

He walks to his car. “I’m fine,” he says. “Getting back on my feet. It was hard, but I’m okay.” He stands by the car, grips the keys. “You don’t have to…”

Maureen laughs. “I want to. I’m going to.” She points at Ralph’s shir and makes a tutting sound. “Look at you, got a stain.” She shakes her head. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

An unbelievable conversation. Ralph doesn’t need anything except to be on his own. He’d love the world to forget he ever existed.

Ralph looks down and blushes. “Just a bit of soup.” Tomato, like the colour of his cheeks.

“Messy boy,” says the woman softly. “You need me.”

“Careless,” he says again. Because he can’t even manage to feed himself without making a mess of it. And isn’t that why Sheila left, isn’t that why Suzie is better off without him?

“Going to fatten you up,” says Maureen. “Going to dress you up.” And now, she puts her arms around him, holds him tight. “Going to make it all better, sweetheart, you better believe it.”

Tears finally spill from Ralph’s eyes. How embarrassing. How inevitable. He must have known, showing up at St Mary’s like this, Maureen would be waiting for him. Because she has always had a sense about h er, she’s always had this effect on him.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” replies Maureen gently. “Time to go home.” She whispers in his ears, “Time for Mummy to take care of her little boy.”

Before it can be true, Ralph grips the keys in his hands. Sharp metal, it will wake him up, it will break the spell.

No. He’s too late. The keys aren’t sharp, they are chunky and made of plastic. Ralph looks down wide-eyed at the baby toy in his hands. He gapes at it, and then he giggles.

Maureen laughs. She hugs him. “Silly boy,” she says sweetly.

Ralph nods and giggles some more. What a silly boy. He’s such a silly boy for Mummy. Now, he believes.

Maureen beams at him. She takes his hand and leads him back into the church. She picks up the Tesco bags. Perfect toys for a little boy like Ralph.

THE END

He only went to the church to donate some of his daughter’s old toys. Now he needs to try and escape the mothering woman at the playgroup - Waynee