‘Do you think there’s a body in there?’ Baz asked. He held his pocket knife with both hand, blade pointed downwards as he scratched ‘Baz woz ere’ into the breast plate of the knight carved onto the tomb. Goria pursed her lips and swung her legs. From her perch on the railings around the pulpit she had a pretty good view of both the knight and the top of Baz’s head. She considered spitting on it.
‘Don’t know,’ she shrugged, feet thudding against the wood. ‘Suppose she’d be all dust by now anyway.’
‘She?’ snorted Baz. ‘Knights ain’t girls Gor. You gotta be a man for that sort of thing.’
‘She so is a girl, look! You’re leaning on her f’ing boob you moron.’
Baz paused and pulled away.
‘Huh, guess you right. She is a chick.’
Gloria sighed and hauled her legs up to her chest.
‘Hurry up and let’s go,’ she said, turning around so she could climb back out of the pulpit. ‘Your mum might realize you’ve got her key.’
‘Not likely, she went Tescos today. Picked up a bottle of Bacardi.’ He clicked the blade closed and pushed it into his back pocket. ‘She’ll be halfway through the bottle by now.’ He dived for the pulpit steps and pinned Gloria to the banister. ‘She won’t notice if we’re out all night.’
Gloria smirked at the oomph noise he made as he knee came up squarely between his legs. She watched him crumple sideways.
‘Have some respect Baz, we’re in a church, and you know you’re not my type.’
Baz keened a little and rose to his knees.
‘Can’t blame a guy for tryin’,’ he wheezed.
‘Yeah actually I can,’ she snapped. ‘It’s the only way you’ll learn what trying actually means you prick.’ She kicked him in the shin for good measure. ‘Come on.’ She stepped past him and into the aisle. ‘Let’s see if we can snag whatever’s left of that Barcardi. If we’re lucky your mum’s passed out by now.’
‘Probably,’ Baz agreed, still scowling at the bruises on his shin and balls. ‘You wanna split?’
‘No you moron. Of course I don’t want to split.’