Fabric of Sin (29 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ Siân said. ‘A
pagan
temple?’

‘In the field where they were going to build a housing estate? Starter homes for our young people.’

Executive
homes, you ignorant …

‘Nobody can tell me that those stones were not buried for a good reason.’

‘Oh, the
stones
,’ Siân said. ‘I see.’

‘You would expect our parish priest to oppose that on principle.’

No reply from Siân. She must surely have realized by now the level of insanity she was dealing with here.

‘And if it wasn’t for the daughter …’

‘Jane?’

‘The daughter – well, that explains a lot.’

‘You’ve rather left me behind here, Shirley.’

Shirley
.

Shirley West. Mum had talked about this woman a few times, Jane
only half-listening because this had been Mum as doormat: feeling obliged to help someone whose attentions had become kind of smothering. Just another vicar-hugger, Jane had figured. And all the time, behind Mum’s back …

‘Put it this way,’ Shirley West said. ‘How often do we see the daughter in church?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

‘Never!’

Jane had to hold on to the screen to prevent herself from walking out there and going,
Not
quite
never
.

‘Believe me, Canon Clarke, she’s had a terrible time with that girl. Hated the idea of her mother becoming ordained and has just … gone out of her way to make her life a misery.
Impossible
to control, absolutely
no
respect … and this is not gossip, Canon, I’ve had this from a respected public figure. This girl and that old man who digs the graves and smokes, they were very nearly arrested for vandalizing the buildingsite in Coleman’s Meadow, did you know that? She was in a kind of hysterical frenzy.’

‘Shirley, I …’ Siân paused. ‘Regrettable as all this might be, I’m afraid you’d probably find similar situations in the homes of over half the clergy in this diocese. Most teenagers go through a period of rebellion against their parents’ values. The only
consolation
being that if children are left to make up their own minds, without being pressurized, they will often find their own way into what we still like to think of as the fold.’

‘But is it?’

‘I’m sorry …’

‘
Is
it a rebellion? Because Merrily is involved with the other business, isn’t she? Ghosts and the demonic.’

‘You mean deliverance.’

‘Which is to do with the occult. I’ve been in the vicarage, Canon Clarke, I’ve seen the occult books on the shelves.’

‘Well, she’s had to study all that, Shirley. She’s had to go into areas of study that many people would find distasteful.’

‘But does
she
?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Does
she
find it distasteful? I’ve talked to people about this. I have many Christian friends all over the country. My information is that this is a job that’s always been done by men before. She was probably the first woman exorcist in the country, that’s my information. And she’s also the first that I – or any of my friends in the church – have known to introduce this so-called meditation. This opening up of a congregation to unseen presences.’

‘I don’t think you’ll find it’s
that
uncommon nowadays. As for deliverance being a male preserve, just a few years ago, the whole ministry—’

‘
I
think we have to look at all these things together – the interest in exorcism … the meditation … the pagan temple … and the near-Satanism practised by the daughter. And see what it adds up to. I think it adds up to a terrible danger.’

The silence was so absolute that Jane could hear her own breathing. Jesus, this was not a joke.

She made eye contact with Tom Bull, his bearded face openly malign. Jane thought of the green man and Baphomet, anger giving way to a kind of fear of the unknown. Fear for Mum, out there on the unknown border, Lol gigging somewhere miles away. Their little nucleus fragmented, and she was alone here, in this supposedly sacred place, this sanctuary, watching the poison dripping into the chalice.

Shirley West said, ‘I think before Merrily goes around encouraging people to open themselves up, she needs to take a good look inside her own family. Don’t you?’

And then Siân, who so far had been displaying a reasonable attitude to this insanity … Siân blew it.

‘You’d better tell me everything,’ she said.

O
VER DINNER – RAIN
rolling down the dairy’s main window, silent as tears of old grief – Merrily asked the Murrays how much they knew about the Grays and the Gwilyms.

‘Our friends either side of the great divide,’ Teddy said.

Lifting his wineglass, as if in a toast, his silhouette a magic-lantern show on the white wall behind him in the lamplight.

‘Not that you’d know it,’ Beverley said. ‘They sound exactly the same. Not as if the Gwilyms have Welsh accents, let alone
speak
Welsh. Well, certainly not … Oh, I
never
know how to pronounce that man’s name.’

‘Sycharth, Bevvie. We’re inclined to say
Sickarth
, but it’s
Suckarth
. Yes, it’s an odd thing. If someone lives just a few yards over the border in what might seem to be a very English part of Wales they become determinedly
Welsh
Welsh. Perfectly affable chap, though.’

‘Not that we see much of him,’ Beverley said, ‘since his business has become more Hereford-based. Rich enough now to have a farm manager.’

‘And his family owned the Master House,’ Merrily said.

‘Since medieval times, I believe.’ Teddy nodding. ‘I can certainly tell you something about
that
.’

His version tied in with Mrs Morningwood’s. As a result of the sudden death of the head of the family, the house had been sold around the turn of last century. The wife, embittered at the way she’d been treated over the years, had got rid of it almost before anybody noticed.

‘Causing an awful fuss, but there was nothing the Gwilyms could do,’ Teddy said.

‘But the Master House is in England.’

‘Well, yes, Merrily, but a part of England that seems to have been more Welsh, in its time, than many parts of Wales. In religious terms, particularly. Both early Welsh Christianity and Welsh Nonconformism in the nineteenth century have their roots hereabouts. And, of course, if Owain Glyndwr’s rebellion had been successful in the fifteenth century, the border would have been redrawn, putting this whole area in Glyndwr’s new, independent Wales. You
do
know about Glyndwr’s connection with this area?’

‘He’s supposed to have retired here, after his campaign collapsed.’

It had always seemed odd to Merrily that Glyndwr should spend his last years in the border area where he’d caused maximum damage, burning down most of the major castles. You’d have thought he’d feel safer in some Welsh heartland.

‘Hidden away, more like, with a price on his head,’ Teddy said. ‘A celebrity outlaw. His daughter, Alice, had married a Scudamore from Kentchurch Court, and they might have helped to conceal him. He was never caught, he just disappeared. There
is
a legend that he once hid out at the Master House – but, then, lots of places claim that connection.’

Beverley said, ‘It’s the sort of legend I imagine some of the Gwilyms liked to pretend was actual history.’

‘And they’ve been trying to … reacquire it?’ Merrily said. ‘I mean, the Master House?’

‘Periodically, yes. I’m not sure how bothered Sycharth is now.’

‘I heard he was totally hell-bent on getting it back.’

‘Well, you
could
be right.’ Teddy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. How are your plans going, as regards, ah …?’

‘Still thinking it would be good to get the Gwilyms and the Grays under that roof. Especially as it no longer belongs to either of them. No better time to heal old wounds.’

‘Would you like me to have a word?’

‘With?’

‘The Grays, at least. They come to church – Paul in a wheelchair now, poor chap. My feeling is that
they
were more than glad to get rid of that house. Whether you believe in some sort of spiritual malaise or not, they haven’t had much luck. The question is, will they come if the
Gwilyms are going to be there? I don’t know. I’ll talk to them. I’ll do what I can.’

‘Thank you, Teddy.’

‘If I tell them someone from the Duchy of Cornwall will be there?’

‘I’ll try and talk to the land agent tomorrow.’

‘Not the, ah, Duke himself, presumably.’

‘At a rite of cleansing?’

‘Quite.’ Teddy smiled. ‘Although
that
would certainly bring both families out of their cupboards, wouldn’t it?’

‘It would also bring the Special Branch out of theirs,’ Merrily said. ‘And, on the whole, I don’t think my nerves would stand it.’

Earlier, sitting on a corner of the bed at The Ridge, with the bedside lamp on, she’d called Lol on spec, a bit surprised to catch him in.

‘I’ve been back all day,’ Lol had said patiently. ‘Last night’s gig was Brecon. Thirty miles?’

‘Of course … sorry.’

‘Old hippies and young soldiers, mainly.’

‘What?’

‘Brecon. It’s a garrison town. Plus a few girls who couldn’t have been born when Hazey Jane started.’

‘Groupies?’

‘In Brecon?’

The power of bad dreams. Merrily closed her eyes. Sometimes you could punch yourself in the mouth.

Lol said, ‘Been watching Canon Callaghan-Clarke familiarizing herself with the village landmarks: church, market hall, Black Swan, Gomer Parry …’

‘
I
’m sorry. Couldn’t even let you know we were getting her. Events … overtook.’

Lol had met Siân only once, last spring, during a tense and troubling evening in Ludlow Castle, when Siân had finally been exposed to the blurred reality of deliverance. Not a comfortable night, for any of them.

‘Not a problem,’ Lol said. ‘I kind of thought you’d wind up going. Under the circumstances.’

Not a problem?
Why
wasn’t it a problem?

‘Lol, I’m sorry, it’s … I’m still a bit tired. Got up feeling lousy and wound up having foot-reflexology. From this Mrs Morningwood. It was … strange.’

‘But it worked?’

‘Something worked. I think. It’s just knocked me out a bit. After some moments of rare clarity, I’m tired and confused again, but yeah, I feel better. Don’t knock it.’

‘Merrily—’

‘Never straightforward, this job. You turn over stones, things crawl out. You ever come across Lord Stourport?’

‘Lord …?’

‘Stourport.’

‘Well, we’ve obviously exchanged nods at various receptions,’ Lol said. ‘Buckingham Palace garden parties, that kind of …’

‘You’ve never heard of him, then.’

‘No.’

Merrily took a long breath and told him, in some detail, about Lord Stourport’s time at the Master House, his supposed connections with the music industry. About Mary Linden nearly thirty years go. It was good to talk about it, to bring it out of the dreamlike fug of the day.

‘We think she was abused.’

‘Abused how?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t know anything for certain. Or even if there was an element of fantasy. Drug-fuelled. I mean, it was a very long time ago but I really,
really
don’t like the feel of it.’

‘How about I ask Prof about this guy,’ Lol said.

‘Prof. Of course. That would be … What the
hell
is that?’

Her head wouldn’t process the clamour, but its vibration brought her to her feet.

‘You OK, Merrily?’

‘It’s …’ She started to laugh. ‘It’s a dinner gong.’

And no time to hang out of the window to smoke half a cigarette.

‘A period boarding house,’ Lol had said. ‘I so envy you.’

There
was
a strained kind of formality about the Murrays. As if she was a child they were in the process of adopting.

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Merrily …’ Beverley was putting out nut roast; why did non-veggies always think it had to be nut roast? ‘… You seem rather … sleepy. I was quite worried about you this morning. Now, you don’t look unwell, but you do look exhausted. And Teddy,
please
don’t say anything about the powerful air of God’s own country.’

‘Actually,’ Merrily said, anything to get this sensible woman off her back, ‘I had some treatment today.’

Telling them about Mrs Morningwood. No reason not to. Presumably it was a legitimate business, the reflexology.

Beverley frowned. Teddy looked intrigued.

‘It was effective? Because I’ve often thought of consulting her myself. A lot to be said for preventative therapy. Beverley’s not so sure, though, are you, Bevvie?’

Beverley didn’t reply until she’d finished serving the nut roast, the onion gravy and the veg.

‘It’s nothing to do with alternative therapy, which I’m sure has its place. I just never know quite what to think of Mrs Morningwood.’

‘In what context?’

Merrily realized how hungry she was, the body craving food, even nut roast. Beverley sat down, pushing a strand of blonde hair away from an eye.