Three days after he made his declaration to Rain outside the school, the nephew holds up his arm and walks slow and upright so that the old aunt at his side can shuffle, pigeon-toed, along the dusk-damp sidewalk towards the Tabernacle. Inside, the lights are low to assist the outpourings of the soul, and if anything the hubbub is noisier than before. As soon as he catches sight of Rain, seated on the other side of the great mahogany horseshoe, Harrison sizes up his best vantage point. ‘No, not there, Aunty,’ he says, ‘in here.’ And so he insinuates his aunt and himself into a row right at the front and directly opposite the gorgeous girl and her parents. The zappings and babblings are well under way now and the dingy light gives him greater freedom to sound his soul, and in among some ‘Yessirs!’ he now floats up a few ‘Well, rights!’ and even an ‘Alleluia’ in response to the minister’s rantings. And when Crystal pushes herself to the gangway at the end of the row and hits the floor twirling, he inches himself just to the edge.
