Irony In The Soul

Chapter 5

FIVE

‘If it’s the Holy Ghost then we already have one,’ Mandy giggled into the intercom.

‘Mandy?’ a squawked reply.

‘Jo-Jums? I was expecting someone else,’ harrumphing at Jack making a funny face.

‘Clearly, can I come up?’

‘Of course, do you have cotton wool and a pointed stick?’ Mandy replied, giggling at Jack’s now perplexed face, poking around the kitchen door.

‘Pardon?’ Jo squealed.

‘You will need the cotton wool for your nose, Jack’s been in the loo for the last 45 minutes, and a stick to poke your eyes out, he’s in his pants in the kitchen.’

‘Too much information.’ Mandy pressed the buzzer, and as Jo pushed the door into the entrance lobby, Father Mike slipped in. ‘The Holy Ghost if I’m not mistaken.’

‘Holy?’ Mike hemmed, as they waited for the lift.

Jo-Jums, never reticent, ‘What're you doing here?’

‘I’m Jack’s confessor and make house calls.’ Mike hemmed some more, was that Onward Christian Soldiers or Postman Pat Jo thought, as the lift rose.

Mandy was at the door of her flat, her hand at her forehead, deflecting a blaze of sunlight penetrating the corridor that made a shuffling Mike and Jo-Jums look like an approaching celestial apparition. Mandy had rapidly dressed into jeans and T-shirt, bare feet, her hair mussed, knowing Jack liked that; he was a funny fella.

Jo-Jums was Jack’s nickname for Detective Inspector Josephine Wild, also called Mumsey, which she was. A woman with an assertive nature and a terrifically sharp brain. Jack would say, “Wild by name, smart by nature”; nobody understood, and he steadfastly refused to explain himself. Mandy thought it was likely a past mistake, now maintained, as if it was either terrifically witty, or an acute insight that eluded the dim witted; everyone else. Jo was dressed as normal, large flowing dress and cardigan, sensible shoes, brown hair, bobbed. She had four children, still at school, and the way she dressed and looked was practical working Mum with a serious job. Her husband, Tanner, fortunately, had a job, long may he keep it in these straightened times, where he could step in to collect or distribute kids when Jo had a call of the policing kind; probably like this morning.

Mandy stood waiting for an explanation for this unusual meeting of unlikely characters.

Father Mike, a Catholic priest, had recently replaced his horn-rimmed Harry Palmer glasses with wire frame specs that suited his age, which had to be late fifties. Mandy had never enquired, then she had asked virtually nothing of this man so important in Jack’s life, but if he had been a fast friend to Jack for so long, he had to be at least of a comparable age. He was tall, like Jack, and a strong build, a bit like Jack, silvering and well-groomed thinning hair, an oval, lined face at peace with itself, and a podgy nose well on its way to being a beetroot; communion wine she presumed. The thing about Mike O’Brien, that Mandy had only recently learned, was he was Jack’s MI5 conduit, although how Father Mike could possibly be confused as a drainpipe she could not see.

Mandy held the door as Father Mike allowed Jo-Jums to enter, then waited for Mandy; he would close the door. She thought, what is it with men of his era, think they need to hold doors and do the manly thing, had they not heard of women’s Lib? This is exactly what Jack does, and she liked it. She thought, it must be Father Mike that gets up her nose, which would be convenient, because Jack had not left the fan going, and to exacerbate matters, had left the bathroom door open.

‘Suppose you fink that’s funny,’ a squeezed aside from Jo-Jums, pinching her nose as Jack came bouncing out of the bedroom, boxer shorts, shirt secured with a token few, misaligned buttons; what on earth do I see in him, Mandy thought?

Jack saw Jo looking to the bathroom, ‘Give that a week or two if I were you Jo-Jums, girl. Coffee, tea, monkey or girl grey?’ Mandy nodded she had Earl Grey as she did his buttons, she’d got it for Jack; a subtle tea for an unsubtle bozo.

‘Coffee for me, strong as it comes,’ Father Mike said unnecessarily. Jack had moved in a new mocha pot; the only thing he had contributed to Mandy’s flat to make himself feel comfortable when he stayed over, otherwise, he seemed happy camping. Jack’s coffee was so strong Mandy had to dilute it if she shared a pot with him. Father Mike had similar tastes, then they had been drainpipes together for a very long time.

‘Monkey tea,’ Jo said, referring to PG Tips tea and their monkey adverts, and nothing like the delicate taste of the girl grey.

‘Comin’ up, babes,’ Jack replied, getting busy. They sat at the table while Jack waited for the kettle to boil and the mocha pot to mocha, Jack holding the gaze of Mandy through puffs of steam; on the station in Close Encounter, he thought.

‘God, have you two not got over the mooning stage,’ Jo remarked, ‘and it's Brief Encounter.’ Jo was accustomed to Mr Malacopperism speaking his thoughts.

Jack distributed the tea, put the coffee pot onto the table and Father Mike helped himself, pouring black tar into delicate demitasse cups that Jack, the enema (he meant enigma), insisted upon. ‘So, Jo-Jums, what’s occurring?’

‘I’ll let you do what you need to do with Mike first; its police business,’ Jo answered.

‘Mike, sanctity of the confessional?’

‘To be sure, Jack,’ Mike’s Cod Irish reply; a common mistake, Mike O’Brien, a Catholic Priest, has to be Irish; he wasn’t.

‘You okay with that, Mandy?’ Jo asked.

‘Jack will confess to Mike anyway, so this saves time, then you can go and we can get back to bed.’

Jo blushed, ‘Jack, has Mandy brought you up to speed?’

Mandy looked at Jack, ‘Assume I haven’t, but he’s ready,’ and she demonstrably crossed her fingers, and retrieved Jack’s iphone from her handbag.

‘My phone,’ Jack exclaimed, ‘thought I’d lost that.’ It said everything about the man, Jack had not mentioned he had lost his phone, nor thought about getting another one.

‘You have messages,’ she tapped the icons for him. He read the first:

Get well soon Jane

Round 2

Angels and Virgins

Do you know thine enemy?

Mor.

‘Mor’ Jack mumbled, ‘Norafarty (he meant Moriarty), when did this come Mands?’

Mandy noticed he had slipped into copper mode, calling her Mands; maybe he will compartmentalise? Would that be good? ‘As you were dying. There’ve been three others, all waiting for you to get better.’

Jo gestured with her eyes over her mug of monkey brew, ‘It’s a game, with you, Jack.’

‘How'd he know we called him Norafarty?’ Jack asked, chewing his bottom lip; he was hungry.

‘A weakness? Might help us track him?’ Mandy suggested.

‘Darlin’, you been thinking about this?’

Mandy put her hand on his, moved her chair so her leg rubbed his; he had coffee breath. ‘I’ve been waiting for you, sweet'ums,’ he went to red alert, “sweet'ums” could mean trouble, ‘of course I’ve been thinking about it,’ Mandy shot back, ‘I’m a copper, in case you’d forgotten?’ He gave Mandy his best kitten look, it always worked; did Jack know women?

Jo sighed, ‘Yes, well, we received a message this morning, to tell you, Jack, that an Angel is with seventy feckin' two virgins.’

Father Mike slipped into Stratford upon Avon and everyone jumped as his sonorous, sanctimonious, gobshite, angelic, butter wouldn’t melt-in-his-mouth, voice sang out, ‘Lo! Those who say Our Lord is Allah, and afterward are upright, the Angels descend upon them, saying: Fear not nor grieve, but hear good tidings of the paradise which ye are promised,’ he stopped, lifted half off his seat, and took a small bow for Jack’s benefit. ‘I’m no expert, but Muslim martyred men are reckoned to be promised seventy two virgins.’

‘Mike, you quoting the Quran?’ Jack asked.

‘Not sure it’s actually the Quran, but I understand this is what Muslim men believe?’

Jo-Jums reacted, ‘And the women?’ it was her acerbic style, and Jack was only surprised she beat Mandy to the response.

Mike answered, ‘Some scholars say the Quran refers only to women, since it is accepted a man gets a hoor, which I believe means a beautiful Maiden, in Paradise,’ Jack’s one eye raised, predictably.

‘Then what will the women get?’ Mandy asked, resigned they would likely get very little.

‘They are said to get, that which the heart has never desired, the ear hasn’t heard, and the eye hasn’t seen, inferring, I think, women will get something exceptional in Paradise.’

‘Bollocks,’ Mandy’s sceptical response.

Mike never shocked, even by Mandy’s often colourful rhetoric, ‘If that is your desire, I am sure it will be provided for you, always assuming you martyred yourself.’

‘Well, she’s practically living with Jack, that’s gotta count for something,’ Jo retorted, ‘then again, I have Tanner and eight million kids. If I get my heart’s desire, a bit of peace and quiet will do me,’ Jo chuckled.

‘That why you’re here Jo?’ Jack looked serious, and worried for his long-time colleague and friend. She ignored him, as did Father Mike; normal service resumed.

‘I think it’s saying you will get something you had never before thought about, or desired; Jack’s bollocks excluded of course,’ Mike tittered now.

‘Okay, Mike, I know you’re making it up. Jo, you think we’re gonna find a body soon?’ Jack asked.

‘That’s our assumption,’ Jo-Jums replied, looking to Mandy for a reaction that came from Mike.

‘Correct.’

‘What do you know about this?’ Jo snapped.

‘Jo, ease up, the Father’s here without the sustenance of the communion wine. Mike and I need to talk, can I use your study, Amanda?’

‘Of course, darling,’ back to Amanda, nice, and she smiled to show she appreciated it.

‘Yuk, Mandy, you go down in my estimation.’

Mandy beamed back, ‘And yet I remain unmoved, more coffee, Mike?’

‘No thanks, I’m up to Gail and Mickey’s after, to see Meesh. I heard about Stansted Woods and said I would meet Jackie there,’ and Jack and Mike disappeared.

Jo spoke, ‘That bloke gives me the creeps, and Jack, a practicing Catholic? Thought he was C-of-E, Church of Egypt,’ and they both giggled, recalling Mandy had registered him in the hospital as Church of Egypt. Jo’s serious face returned. ‘Is he okay?’

Mandy wrinkled her lips, ‘What Jack says, and often does…’ she shrugged. ‘I’m not sure to be honest, but I will keep a close eye. He’s promised no man-of-action stuff and we will work as a team.’

‘And what is the team called?’ both women laughed.

‘You know him well, it’s the Dynamic Duo; I’m Dobbin and he's Bat-Bat. If it keeps him in check…and honestly, I’m excited. I’ve driven a desk for tooooo long.’

‘Want to know what I think?’ Jo responded.

‘Oh yes, please enlighten me,’ and Mandy cupping her ear, mocked listening carefully.

‘I think Jack has given you a new lease of life, and it’s great to see. I love to take the piss, but he’s a good man, and a b****y good copper… I think…’ and Jo seriously pondered, ‘but watch out, things happen around him.’

‘I know, Jo, and thanks for that affirmation. I am happy, and probably for the first time in a very long time.’

‘It shows, Mandy.’

‘What shows?’ Mike and Jack were back

‘The skid marks on them pants of yours, Gobshite,’ Jo fired back.

‘I’m impressed you’ve been looking, Jo. You comfortable with that, Amanda?’

‘Yes, well I’m off to Gail’s,’ Mike said, looking uncomfortable.

‘Mike, let me know how Meesh is,’ Jack asked.

‘She’s doing alright,’ Mandy answered.

‘How d’you…?’ Jack, nonplussed.

‘I phoned.’

‘When?’

She groaned, ‘A lot can happen in the world whilst you’re ensconced in the bog for forty-five minutes, reading my Cosmopolitan magazine, which falls open at the problem page, and currently the bit on the female orgasm.’

Jack made a face, and Mandy laughed. Mike was most definitely uncomfortable, and Mandy, Jack, and Jo caught the rapidly departing Priest at the door.

‘See you at the Nick?’ Jo asked.

Before Mandy could answer Jack replied, ‘No, and you should go home too. Amanda and I are going to the pictures, Kings SSSSspeech and dinner at Maison Blanketey Blank, so feck off home, unless a body turns up?’ European kisses, which Jack found awkward, is it one or two? He had even seen three pecks on the cheek. Feckin’ Europeans, at least with Mike it was just a handshake, mind you, he was a priest; backs to the wall chaps.

Mandy closed the door and beckoned Jack with her finger, ‘Our first date, if you exclude Fatso’s trawler and a murder scene, what a nice surprise.’ She kissed him, ‘Why the Kings Speech? You’re not noted as a monarchist.’

Jack recovered his thinking head, ‘Amanda, anyone who struggles to overcome some deficiency or other, I find inspiring, plus, I hear Colin Firth is starting to look old, so any time you want to watch me jump in the deep end at the swimming baths with me shirt on, let me know.’

Mandy smiled, recalling it was Kate who had said, in response to Jack in the swimming baths, "It would be more like whale watching". She tugged the elastic of his boxer shorts, 'Bedroom, now.'