Hook, Line and Single

Chapter 4

4

‘I have a plan,’ Sam announces as she comes through the door. Samson and I are curled up together on the sofa. He’s fast asleep and I’m nearly halfway through a thriller that I was hoping to give a ‘Ruby’s Recommendation’ for in the shop. So far, it’s pretty turgid, so I’m glad of the distraction.

‘For what?’ I ask, inserting a bookmark and putting the book on the coffee table. Samson’s reaction to her arrival is a luxuriant stretch, but I’m not sure he even opened his eyes.

‘For meeting a man who isn’t a total dickhead. It’s so obvious, I’m frankly amazed it’s taken me this long to come up with it.’

Given that it’s only been a few days since the Threesome Pete debacle, this is a quick bounce back, even for her.

‘Go on,’ I tell her.

‘Church.’

‘What?’

‘I’m going to go to church.’

‘You think you can just rock up on a Sunday morning, ask God for a nice man and he’s going to drop one in your lap? I’m not sure I’d rate that in the top ten of master dating plans, Sam.’

‘No, silly. I’m thinking about the other people who go to church, specifically single men. They’re not allowed to be dickheads, are they. It’s practically in their constitution.’

‘Aren’t they all octogenarians though?’

‘No. Sasha at work was telling me about this church her cousin is part of. It’s a super-church or somesuch. Apparently, it’s full to bursting with people our age, and a lot of them are single. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel, according to her. Anyway, I thought I’d go along on Sunday and see. You could come with me.’

‘Uh-uh,’ I tell her firmly. ‘Sunday mornings are sacrosanct for me, as you well know. Plus, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re going to my parents’ for lunch.’

‘Come on. I’m not sure I could walk in there on my own, and the service starts at ten, so we should be done in plenty of time to get to your mum and dad’s.’

‘Sorry, Sam. Sacrificing my Sunday lie in and lengthy bath to sit in a hard pew and listen to someone bang on about hell and judgement is not my idea of a good time.’

‘I think they have chairs.’

‘Still not coming. You’re on your own for this one.’

‘Please?’ she wheedles. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’

‘How?’ I laugh. ‘You already owe me dinner.’

‘You might meet someone yourself, you never know.’

‘I don’t want to meet anyone. I’m happy as I am.’

‘When did you get so jaded?’

‘I’m not jaded, I’m just perfectly happy with my life as it is.’

‘It was Olly, at uni, wasn’t it? He broke your heart, and you’ve never got over it.’

I’m momentarily floored. Neither of us has mentioned Olly for years and she’s far too close to the truth for comfort. After what happened with him, I made a promise to myself that I’d never allow myself to be that vulnerable with a man again. The break-up with Olly and the events that followed are the only secrets I’ve ever kept from Sam.

‘First, he didn’t break my heart,’ I tell her firmly, trying to throw her off the scent. ‘I think you’ll find it was the other way around. And second, I was already over him, which is why I finished with him, as you well know.’

‘So you say, but there has to be more to the story. Otherwise why would you be single for so long afterwards?’

‘There really isn’t,’ I tell her, keen to shut this down. ‘I got bored with him. The male ego is so fragile, isn’t it? I’m frankly amazed that most of them manage to function as adults at all.’

‘For someone who has had so little to do with them, you’re very down on men as a sex, you know that?’

‘For someone who has had so much to do with them, all of it disappointing, I’m frankly amazed that you manage to be so optimistic about them.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh. I just don’t want to be match made.’

‘Fair enough. Come to church with me though?’

I sigh. ‘You’re not going to let this go, are you?’

‘I wasn’t planning to, no.’

‘Let me just recap your plan. You march in there, dragging me along as your emotional support buddy, and what? You think the single men will form a queue?’

‘No, but I looked at their website. The service runs from ten until half past eleven, and then they have a social time with coffee.’

‘Can’t we just go for the social time then?’

‘No, because what if my future husband asks about something that happened in the service? I need all the facts.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’

‘Well, for my sake really,’ she quips. ‘But I assume God will be there too.’

‘Fine. I’ll come. But this is a one-time deal, OK? If you decide you need repeat visits, you’re strictly on your own.’

She kisses me lightly on the cheek. ‘You’re the best friend a person could wish for, you know that?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I grumble.

* * *

Sam’s friend Sasha was not wrong. When we pull into the car park on Sunday morning, we find ourselves outside a building that looks more like a warehouse than a church. No sooner are we out of the car than a middle-aged woman in a polo shirt bearing the church logo approaches us.

‘Hi,’ she says brightly. ‘I’m Maddie, one of the welcome team. Forgive me, as I have a terrible memory for faces, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Is this your first time here?’

‘That’s right,’ Sam tells her. ‘I’m Sam and this is my best friend Ruby.’

‘Wonderful to meet you both!’ Maddie says in a tone that implies that our arrival has made her day. ‘Come along inside and I’ll introduce you to some people.’

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the comparative gloom indoors after the bright sunshine outside, but when they do, I can see the place is packed. Sam is right too; although there are a number of older people, I would estimate that at least half the people in here are our age or younger.

‘I’ll take you over to say hi to Geoff,’ Maddie yells over the din of conversation. ‘He’s our adult and young families coordinator.’ We follow her round the side of the auditorium until she spots her target, which isn’t hard, to be fair. Geoff must be well over six feet tall, with sandy-coloured hair and glasses. He’s wearing another branded polo shirt but, where Maddie’s is black, his is bright green.

‘Geoff,’ Maddie says brightly. ‘This is Sam and Ruth. It’s their first time, so I thought you might like to look after them and show them the ropes.’

‘Absolutely,’ Geoff beams as Maddie hurries off, presumably to welcome other people. ‘Welcome, Sam. Welcome, Ruth.’

‘It’s Ruby,’ I correct him.

‘Ruby, I do apologise. Maddie does get a little muddled up with names sometimes. Did she tell you I’m the coordinator for the adults and young families? We tend to sit together, unless there’s a baptism or something. I’ll show you where the others are.’

As we follow him into the thick of the crowd, I can’t help wondering whether having Maddie as a welcomer, with her self-confessed poor memory for faces and inability to remember names, is a good idea. I’m just about to say as much to Sam when Geoff speaks again.

‘This area here is where we all sit. I know it looks a bit bare now, but the service is going to start in a few minutes, so it’ll fill up pretty quickly. Do you mind me asking what brings you here today?’

As Sam tells him some cock-and-bull story about searching for meaning in her life, a large countdown timer appears on screen and a voice comes over the PA system asking people to take their seats. Sure enough, barely a minute later, all the seats around us have filled up. Geoff is obviously popular, as many of them greet him enthusiastically. The seats next to me are taken by a young, earnest-looking couple.

‘Ruby, this is Taylor and Ben,’ Geoff tells me, leaning over Sam. ‘This is Ruby, guys, and her friend Sam. They’re new.’

‘Lovely to meet you both,’ Taylor says, extending her hand to shake ours.

‘Taylor and Ben met each other right here at church,’ Geoff tells us enthusiastically, causing Sam to raise her eyebrows at me in an ‘I told you so’ way. ‘They were married last year and had their first baby three months ago. How is Reuben?’

‘He’s just a blessing every day,’ Taylor tells him. ‘We’re so looking forward to his welcome service next month.’

‘Is that like a christening?’ I ask her, curious in spite of myself.

‘No. In our church, we practise adult baptism. Have you dedicated your life to the Lord?’

‘Umm, not exactly, no.’

‘That’s fine. There are people here at all stages of their spiritual journey. We run a number of courses that you might find interesting. I’m sure Geoff will give you all the information. Anyway, once someone has reached the stage where they’re ready to say “Yes” to Jesus, we prepare them for baptism. For babies, we have a welcome ceremony, where we welcome them into the church and pray for them. It’s really moving.’

Thankfully, before Taylor can probe any further into my Christian faith, or lack of it, the countdown clock reaches zero and the band walk out onto the stage. A couple of loud guitar chords sound and the audience whoops delightedly. For the next twenty minutes, it feels almost like I’m at a rock concert. The atmosphere is very similar; the audience are on their feet, waving their hands and swaying in time to the music. Only the song lyrics and bursts of prayer between songs remind me that I’m in a church. I have to admit, as productions go, it’s pretty slick. The band leader gives the appearance that he’s deciding which lyrics to repeat purely on the spur of the moment, but the way the band are effortlessly going along with it makes me think that this surface spontaneity is in fact strictly choreographed and rehearsed. Just as I’m starting to feel sensory overload coming on from the loud music, the lights and the images projected onto the huge screens, the band leader wraps things up in a final thundering crescendo and the audience erupts with cheers and shouts. Someone on the other side of the hall yells, ‘Yeah, thank you, Jesus,’ at the top of his voice, and a chorus of ‘Amens’ rattle around him like machinegun fire. It’s exhausting.

Once everyone has finally taken their seats, someone else comes onto the stage to read a passage from the Bible. I recognise it from school as the story of the battle of Jericho and, as soon as the reading is done, a glass lectern is positioned and a man in his mid-forties, wearing chinos and a light blue shirt, strides out, holding an open copy of the Bible in his hand.

‘That’s Martin, our pastor,’ Geoff whispers. ‘Such a gifted preacher.’

He may be gifted, but I still have no trouble tuning him out as he talks about how the battle of Jericho illustrates how we need to be persistent as Christians. What I do notice is that the people around us, including Ben and Taylor, all have notebooks open on their laps and are scribbling copious notes. I am briefly impressed that Martin appears to be speaking without notes of his own, until I turn my head and spot something that looks suspiciously like a teleprompter at the back of the room. After half an hour or so, during which I try hard not to doze off – these chairs are surprisingly comfortable – the band starts playing softly and, in another carefully choreographed set piece, the pastor draws his talk to a close. I’m surreptitiously checking my watch. Only another twenty minutes to go, then Sam can do her social bit and we can get out of here. I wonder what Mum’s making for lunch?

At the end of the service, Taylor and Ben rush off to collect baby Reuben from the crèche, along with some of the other members of the group who also must have small children. Geoff shepherds the rest of us into another massive room, where multiple coffee stations have been set up. Everyone seems very friendly, but I’m definitely feeling overwhelmed now, as the service finished with another full-on session from the band, and the noise of conversation in here is deafening.

‘Have you come far?’ a woman that Geoff introduced as Bernice yells in my ear. Sam and I have been separated, much to my consternation, although I can see her talking to someone in a red polo shirt bearing the church logo a little way away. I guess the colours all mean something, but I have no idea what.

‘Not really, I live in Margate,’ I bellow back at her.

‘By the sea, how lovely. Richard and I often head out there to enjoy the sea air when the weather’s nice. Oh, you should meet him. Hang on.’ She turns and beckons a man to join us.

‘This is Richard,’ she says by way of introduction. ‘We’re covenanted at the moment, but we’re hoping Pastor Martin will give his blessing so we can get engaged soon.’

‘Is Pastor Martin your father?’ I ask.

‘No. Why?’

‘I was just curious why you’d need his permission to get engaged.’

‘It’s how things work in our church,’ Richard explains. ‘Pastor Martin is very worried about the divorce rate, so we take relationships and marriage very seriously.’

Sensing that this might be useful information for Sam, I decide to press him.

‘So what does that mean in practice?’ I ask. ‘I guess casual hook-ups are a no-no?’

‘Completely,’ Richard says seriously. ‘We strongly discourage any one-on-one socialising with members of the opposite sex unless you’re covenanted.’

‘What does it mean to be covenanted?’

‘If you want to spend one-on-one time with someone, you both have to sign a covenant. It’s like an agreement that sets out the boundaries of what is acceptable.’

‘I see,’ I tell him. ‘What kinds of things are covered by this covenant?’

‘We’re allowed to hold hands when we’re in public,’ Bernice explains. ‘We’re allowed to kiss on the cheek, but not the mouth. Hugging is also permitted as long as it’s A frame and doesn’t last more than five seconds.’

‘Seems a bit severe,’ I remark.

‘It’s to prevent temptation. Kissing on the mouth, bringing the genitals into close proximity, these could very quickly lead to things getting out of hand. We believe any form of sexual contact is strictly prohibited outside marriage.’

Oh, Sam isn’t going to like that at all.

‘But isn’t there a risk that people will rush into marriage so they can have sex?’ I ask. ‘I’d have thought that would drive the divorce rate up, not down.’

‘That’s why we have the process we do,’ Bernice tells me. ‘You have to be covenanted for at least a year before you can submit an engagement request to Pastor Martin, and he’ll only allow you to marry once you’ve completed the relevant courses and workshops successfully. The whole process can take up to five years, but it obviously works because our divorce rate is practically non-existent.’

Poor Sam. She’ll be climbing the walls in frustration if she has to go through this. A thought comes to me.

‘So, once you’re covenanted, you’re allowed to see each other one-on-one, right?’ I say to Bernice.

‘That’s right, yes.’

‘But who polices it? You could be bonking each other’s brains out and nobody would know.’

Bernice smiles wryly. This obviously isn’t the first time she’s been asked this question. ‘Part of the covenanting agreement is that you both attend an accountability group every week.’

‘A what?’

‘An accountability group. It’s like a self-help thing, to keep you focused on what’s important and not be distracted by temptation.’

Bloody hell. If Sam decides this is her route to true love, she’s going to need a whole drawer of vibrators to keep her from going mad. Except, knowing this lot, vibrators are probably banned as well.