She was sweeping the floor when I crept in. Sharleen: straggly blonde hair, round smiley face, freckly nose, dimples. Looking as sensational as ever in a cropped crimson top and tight skinny jeans slung five inches below her navel. I took out the pink ticket from my wallet, and a leaflet, then walked up to her altar. There was a silver bell, a tinker-bell. I rang it. She ignored me. I heard her sing of Jesus, sing so sweetly, of Jesus and Good, of God and Love, your sweet bird, our prophet,
‘Hello?’
She turned to face me, her smile radiant, her look knowing, saintly, beatific. I felt my face crack into its widest smile. We all love her, don’t we? The maiden of mystique. The damsel of destiny.
‘Oh hello!’ she beamed, ‘Sorry, I was with Him.’
‘I’m so pleased, Sharleen! Pleased that you were with Him.’
I presented my ticket. She ignored it,
‘I came to collect my husband’s…’
‘Beige chinos, short leg 29 inches, waist 36 inches. I know!’
‘Of course, you do! You know everything!’
I watched Sharleen sway her hips, wiggling her bum for me. Disturbingly, because I could only wonder at her intonation. Presently, she returned with my beautifully-pressed chinos, wrapped up in drippy polythene and labelled:
Other World Dry Cleaners.
The hangar had a shoulder made of recyclable paper, emblazoned with a sun sinking through an upturned rainbow. God’s smile?
‘There you are!’ she cried, ‘That will be five pounds, please.’
I had a note, so I paid in cash, then I said unto her, ‘I was wondering…’
She nodded at me enthusiastically, ‘You all do.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. We all do what?’
Sharleen took my firm hands in her soft ones, rubbing them gently with her thumbs as if she were anointing me in readiness for Him to forgive me of my sins,
‘Wonder at me.’
She smiled.
‘Wonder at you?’
‘Mm!’
I caught the purr of a cheeky giggle in her throat, and smiled back. She made me feel happy?
She happily explained,
‘You wonder at me. And what I know? For I am the prophet. I am his Woman, sent to this Earth to tell you all…’
I edged in to her proclamation,
‘You know, don’t you? You know how the World will end: the exact day, the time, the way, the crime, the fire, the flood, the mire, the blood, the pain, the fear, the stain, in here…’
I pointed to my heart, beating furiously, the exhaustion of my full confession draining my soul. She pressed my palm to my heaving chest, held my hand over my heart, soothed my fears. She calmed me,
‘I know, darling, He told me.’
Sharleen rolled her eyes upwards at Heaven, as if drifting into trance,
‘He told me How. But I’m not privileged to tell you until the World’s End.’
For some reason, I started to tremble and cry,
‘Please,’ I begged, ‘Tell me. How can I go on living in the knowledge that you, Sharleen, know how and when this World will End! How?’
‘That is the cross you have to bear.’
Sharleen rolled her skies of blue down until they pierced my eyes. Seemed uncomfortable, shifting: trainer to trainer, leg to leg. As if she needed the lavatory? She soon settled, releasing my hands from hers. Smartly, she accepted my five-pound note, and gave me the trousers back,
‘I think you should go home now, Becky. Go to bed. Be with your husband. And wait.’
I thanked Sharleen for her kindness unto me, turned on my heels, and left the dry cleaners. As I left the shop, I stared up at the strange purple dusk. There was a bus stop outside the shop with a thick yellow line and a black bin. Ruefully, I took one last look at my leaflet, the girl in the gas mask, Harriet-Jacqui Furl, screwed her up tightly in my fist, and threw her into the bin.
The traffic stopped. The shoppers paused. We all scanned the skies. People climbed out of their cars, and left their shopping bags in café bars, to stand and ogle the new-born stars in the Night.
And He appeared unto Us and Sharleen his Woman sat at his right-hand side, smiling down at me…
‘Is It Today?’ I asked.
‘Today, yes!’
She beamed at me from on high, her teary-sapphire eyes, twinkling gems in a New Dawn Sky, and cried,
‘God Bless Ya!’
This is different. I like how you build this and have me waiting to find out how but I know it will never be revealed. Very nice.
Thanks very much, Fia,
Sharleen is based on a real-life God-fearing woman (brunette not blonde, though) who works in the dry cleaners at my local high street in Epping, and an encounter that really took place! She could definitely sort the World out given half the chance!