She opened the tin and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette, which she lit and blew marijuana smoke around the room. Putting the joint in an ashtray, she filled a glass with water, opened a bottle of pills from the collection of neuroleptic medications, and swallowed a small yellow pill with the water.
“Clozaril,” she said, tapping the plastic bottle top. “New wonder drug for crackpots,” she chuckled and held out her arms and showed Church. “This is all over me; I am glowing red, that isn’t normal. I thought it was the drugs giving me hallucinations until I saw you.”
Church smiled and said, “For people like us that is normal and to answer your question, I am not an angel. What you see is my aura, the same as I can see yours, it’s not red, it is crimson. I am a Keeper, so mine is multi-coloured, and this morning my grandfather Jack’s spirit visited you. You aren’t crazy Pinky, just different,” said Church reassuringly. “We are special.”
Pinky closed her eyes as she was feeling high, but juddered awake and concentrated on Church.
“What about all the voices and headaches? Jack told me some crazy weird shit, saying you would explain everything,” she said, adding, “unless it was the drugs. None of this seems real.”
Church remembered his days of confusion and fear, so he could empathise with this young frightened woman.
“Jack told you that I would come, didn’t he?” Church asked.
“Yes,” said Pinky.
“And I am here,” said Church.
Pinky thought for a moment and slurred, “Yeah.”
“Therefore, everything Jack told you must be true… I will try to explain in more detail… but first” said Church, taking her hands. Pinky felt a strange power curse through her body, like a warm wave of electricity. Her aura now glowed and she felt clarity.
“Wow! What happened?” she asked, gazing around the room. “I feel great, drug-free.”
“As I said,” said Church, “We are special and help each other as well as lost souls.”
While Sharon smiled and looked at him, Church went over to the corner of the room and fetched over a small plastic chair.
“Jack told me that once you come, my headaches and different voices would stop pecking at my head. Is that true?” She asked, and said, “That would be my best birthday present.”
“Yes, they will stop now,” Church assured her as he sat and smiled at her, “Let me explain,”
Church spent the next hour or so explaining about the gift and their edict in life, and about her auntie Heidi. Although he never mentioned she was his chosen bride.
Greta then came into the room and asked. “Is everything okay? Have you taken your medication Sharon? Would you like a cup of tea Church?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” said Church.
“Isn’t it a lovely ring Sharon? Okay. I’ll leave you to it then. Shout if you need anything, and don’t forget to take your pills Sharon.”
Greta backed out of the door, closing it behind her.
“What was that stupid woman talking about?” Pinky asked.
Church had forgotten about the ring, with explaining to Pinky about the gift and the spirit world, so told her the ring was a ploy which they could use to their advantage.
Church told Pinky that she needed more time to learn about everything and experience things, so she could get a clearer understanding. He suggested that she came to his cottage.
This came as a shock to Pinky, but she felt relieved. Although everything Church had told her seemed unbelievable, she’d trusted Church from the moment she met him.
She glanced around her sparse unwelcoming room and said, “When do we leave?” She asked, smiled, and looked at Church who frowned and appeared nervous. “What’s wrong?” She asked
Church sighed, gazed into her blue eyes, and told her about the Chosen-ones joining.
Pinky grinned as she listened to Church’s voice get croakier. When he’d finished, Pinky smiled and put her hand on his thinning hairline and stroked the top of his head “So you and I are supposed to fall madly in love?” she whispered.
Church nodded.
Pinky chuckled, slapped his head, and said, “Bah, don’t talk shite! You look like Bob Hoskins, and I certainly wouldn’t go out with him, let alone marry him.”
They stared at each other for a moment, before bursting out laughing.
“These Spirits of yours must be as bonkers as I was, are they on drugs?” giggled Pinky.
“They certainly got it wrong this time,” chuckled Church, hoping that they had.
They laughed for several minutes before Pinky looked sullen and said, “My parents got money from the government for taking care of me, so they would never let me go.”
Church showed her the ring.
“Maybe they will with this,” he said and told her his plan.
Church went into the living room. Greta and Harold sat on the sofa pouring over pictures of new cars in magazines. Harold had never worked, and after they had spent the money that he’d inherited from his grandparents many years ago, they had lived off government benefits. Pinky, although an annoyance to them, served them well, with generous carers allowance payments.
“I need to take Pinky to the facility at my cottage for treatment; she needed more help which I can provide there,” said Church.
Harold and Greta looked at one another. “Will we get extra payments?” asked Harold.
Church shook his head and said, “No, but the treatment is free.”
The Pinquist’s mumbled and whispered to each other shaking their heads.
Church and Pinky knew they weren’t about to allow their golden goose to go anywhere without an incentive. Church took the letter from the table, folded it and added, “Oh, and Sharon told me she would give you the ring if you’d let me help her. But I understand if you aren’t happy to let her come.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Harold, looking as if someone had just taken away his favourite toy. “Let’s not be too hasty, Church.” he stammered, “If you think you can help her. Sharon already seems a lot better since you arrived.”
“Yes,” agreed Greta. “Maybe for a short while will be okay, she is eighteen now, so can make her own decisions.”
* * *
“Isn’t greed great?” said Church, driving along the motorway.
“Yeah, I knew those two greedy parents of mine would jump at the chance for the money. The only problem is, what happens when they find out the ring did not belong to the Queen of Denmark and isn’t worth that much?” enquired Pinky from the passenger seat.
“Oh, that,” smiled Church.
“The ring was one of my favourite rewards. I will explain how that works later, but it was given to me by…”
“Just get on with it,” Pinky interrupted and feigned a yawn.
Church smiled and continued,
“What I said about the ring was almost true. It was from the 19th century. However, it did not belong to Alexandrine of Mecklenburg-Schwenn, nor was it made by Jensen. It’s a Sybil Dunlop ring and