Friends of the Dusk (50 page)

When the camera was connected, Athena let the laptop boot up on the altar then pulled out a chair, set it in the aisle and sat on it, arranging her skirt.

‘Take your seats. Don’t… don’t worry, you won’t be viewing his death. Although it would not, in all honesty, worry me in the slightest.’

‘Anthea—’

‘Do sit down, Owen. Watkins, would you mind awfully… operating the thing for me. It seems to be a… Mac. Or something. I’m more used to Windows.’

‘Athena, are you—?’

‘Just
do
it.’

Merrily crouched to one side of the altar so she could reach the laptop’s pressure pad without blocking the view. Huw Owen
pulled up a chair next to Athena’s as a man’s white-shirted midriff came up on the screen. White. He would be in white, wouldn’t he?

‘Stop it there for a moment,’ Athena said. ‘I should tell you the circumstances under which this was filmed. This morning, he came looking for me. He left his room to come and find me. I saw him coming along the passage, looking faintly disoriented in the sunshine.’

‘How did you know he were looking for you, owd lass?’ Huw said gently.

Athena scowled, her eyes near-black in the dull light of the autumnal dusk through tall leaded windows.

‘I tried the nearest door – unmarked – and it opened. It was a white-tiled room containing just a chair and a table and a hospital trolley. I had a sense of death, I suppose. Perhaps an intermediate storage place for people who died in one of the lounges. It had a frosted window. I put my bag on the table, hoping to God the camera was pointing the right bloody way, and waited. He came in, and I leaned against the trolley. Oh, I felt quite dizzy for a moment, I said. Coming on with that sort of dithery, old-person nonsense. He looked quite disoriented, out of his quarters.’

Merrily said, ‘Why did he come looking for you? If that’s…’

Athena White did her tiny squeaky laugh.

‘Because I’d gone to him, the night before. I probably suggested to you, rather boastfully, Watkins, that I do it all the time. In fact, I can’t remember the last time, so it was much harder than I’d expected, performing to order. I was quite nervous – hadn’t expected that.’

Merrily looked at Huw. He’d put on his reading glasses.

‘Found it surprisingly difficult,’ Athena said, ‘holding the peripheral state between sleep and wakefulness. And then allowing the vibrational stage to continue for long enough to achieve separation.’

‘Oh,’ Merrily said, dismayed. ‘I see.’

It had come back to her, from that afternoon at The Glades with Hurricane Lorna on her tail.

Don’t trivialize breathing. I enjoy my breathing, in all its infinite varieties. Along with occasional astral tourism, it’s all I have left.

‘It’s not an exact science, Watkins. And I’m hardly a master or a yogi. It was simply a matter of letting him know that
someone was here.
There’s always a low-level paranormal vibe in old folks’ homes. He’d pick that up. Question of rising above it to a level he’d notice. I’d visualized his quarters, his door with the number on it, the smells, the ambient sounds, the general atmosphere. Awoke this morning quite exhausted, with an unlikely memory of a huge bed, entirely out of proportion to its surroundings. Anyway, he’d come. What an extraordinary-looking man he is. Face like wood.’

Merrily didn’t look at Huw. Anyone here could have told Miss White about the bed.

‘And you talked?’

‘Oh, yes, as you’ll see. Dementia is not a perpetual condition. There are moments of clarity. I’d even wondered, as I’m sure you had, if
his
dementia might have been something of a misdiagnosis. Or even a scam. One can be labelled as demented by one’s GP, especially if it’s not Alzheimer’s. Hospitals and scans and all that are very easily avoided.’

‘It’s true,’ Huw said. ‘A doctor can make a diagnosis based entirely on clinical findings, memory and cognitive tests. Especially if he’s your mate.’

Athena shook her head.

‘No, I do think it’s the real thing, Owen, if less advanced than one might have imagined – I’d expected him to have the responses of a radish, but no. There was a kind of electricity. The only way I can describe it. I think, from what Owen told me, that you noticed that, Watkins. Anyway… observe.’

On the screen you saw him sitting down, but he was quite close to the camera so the top half of his face had been cropped.

‘Who are you?’
his mouth said.

‘Athena, my name.’

‘Goddess.’
His mouth twisted into amusement.
‘Goddess? You’re
an old bag.’

‘Goddess of wisdom, Selwyn,’
Athena said.
‘Forget the goddess bit. But dismiss the wisdom at your peril.’

His mouth opened and you heard him breathing. It was loud and hollow, like a yawn, the almond cracks in his face stretching.

‘Freeze that, Watkins. You hear that? That’s
not
his breathing. Not
his
breath.’

Merrily felt the cold snaking around her legs like a spectral cat, moved away from the altar.

‘I can hear why you’re saying that, owd lass,’ Huw said. ‘but—’

‘We’re not going to
prove
anything here, Owen. Proof is entirely subjective. I’m just telling you what I
think.
Make it continue, Watkins.’

Merrily touched the pressure pad and Athena’s voice emerged.

‘Where were you last night, Selwyn?’

He answered at once.

‘Where I live.’

His voice was all breath now, his mouth wide open.
‘Where’s that?’

‘You know.’

Merrily wished she could see his eyes but was also glad that she couldn’t.

Athena said, ‘The phrase “phantasm of the living” is often used for a situation when someone might appear to be in two places at once. Quite often it’s no more than a longing, on the part of the viewer of the apparition, to see a particular person, loved one, whoever, and, lo, the person manifests.’

‘Aye,’ Huw said, ‘I’ve encountered that. Usually unreliable.’

‘And then there’s the question of projection.’

‘We touched on it this morning. When we were discussing the Second Death.’

‘Projection is hardly high occultism, Owen, it happens with astonishing regularity, even if some people aren’t even aware of it, or are in complete denial. Or regard it as a vivid dream. But, yes, the connection with the Second Death is obvious. It’s an intermediate state and is usually reached through one – in my case, the state on the very rim of sleep where one must hold oneself. Fall asleep and you have to start all over again.’

‘Or it could be an illusion,’ Merrily said.

‘Or could indeed be an illusion. Even a
folie à deux
type illusion. Such as might have occurred last night when I lay in my room convincing myself that I was entering his room – not wanting, I should tell you, to remain there long – and he convinced himself he’d seen me.’

The old girl smiled sweetly. Merrily said nothing.

‘Tell us what you think he does.’

‘Hard to say precisely. I would probably suggest he falls back into his own psychic construction. He’s decided that the Cwmarrow valley, with its vanished village, should be where Map’s malefactor roamed, picking off his neighbours to allow him to go on living his half-life. Because that’s all it can ever be. But half a life, it might be argued, is better than death, especially if you’re in fear of what might happen afterwards. You go on taking life in the hope of escaping retribution.’

‘Or that’s the theory,’ Merrily said.

‘I’m not going to
argue
with you, little clergyperson. You’re perfectly free to reject my opinions – as that’s all they can be, this side of mortality.’

‘I… I’m sorry, Athena. Really, I’m grateful for what you’re doing. I’m just…’

Huw came to her rescue.

‘You say a psychic construction. That he’s decided the Cwmarrow valley was the home of the
maleficus.
’

‘It might not be. It doesn’t matter. He’s spent years walking
that place and visualizing and storing it in his subconscious mind. I imagine all he has to do sometimes is close his eyes and he’s there. The sights and sounds and smells and whatever erotic extras he uses. He may always have had the ability. If you study, as I have, the accounts of astral projection you’ll notice time and time again the sexual element. He probably doesn’t even know he’s harnessing that. Especially now…’

‘What’s the bottom line? How come he can do this?’

‘Possibly through the
maleficus
itself. He becomes fascinated by Walter Map’s exercise in Hereford Gothic – a vampire story which is perhaps not fictional like
Dracula
or
Carmilla
– and he goes in search of what remains of the
evil angel
of the nameless predator. His quest is fuelled by his enormous sexual appetite. Did you know he raped a cleaner?’

‘Here?’

Merrily stepped back. The dusk had turned to night. The only light was the quivering screen.

‘Or so it’s
said
by some of the inmates. People do tend to talk to me. A young cleaner – just out of school – left the staff with a hefty lump sum.’

‘It might be nonsense. He’s a rather sinister presence. Do you want to see the rest?’

Huw opened his hands in assent. Athena activated the recording, the camera still on Selwyn-Pryce, the voice hers.

‘Must be strange, Selwyn, for a man like you, with a fondness for female youth, to have a son with more diverse tastes.’

No reply. Bloody hell, you had to admire her.

‘When did you first become aware of Hector’s bisexuality? Obviously, as you weren’t around when he was growing up, you wouldn’t be aware of it coming on. But surely you must have noticed his more regular visits to Cwmarrow and how they coincided with the occasions when Tristram was there. Young Trissie?’

Had she told Huw about this on the phone last night? May well have done. And he’d passed it on, perhaps very early this morning, to Athena. God, she picked up on things so fast…

That yawning breath came again.

‘He was never the same again after Trissie, was he?’
Athena said on screen.
‘The boy would have encouraged him. An influential man in Hereford. Rather amoral, Trissie. Eye to the main chance. Would’ve dropped Hector like a stone when an offer came in from the satellite TV people in London. Was that when Hector started coming to you for boys? Boys loved your books, too. And then, when he discovered Trissie had returned to Hereford and wanted to meet you all again, what did Hector do to the face which had tormented his dreams all those years ago? What’s the matter, Selwyn?’

The picture stuttered, an explosion of pixels, and then the man in the white shirt was extending an arm, his breath coming in spurts.

‘Kee, kee, kee.’

The finger pointing.

‘
Kee, kee, kee
… Athena…
White…’

The screen went black.

Huw’s voice was gentle.

‘Why did you switch off there, owd lass?’

‘I didn’t,’ Athena said.

‘Oh.’

‘I did, however, in keeping with the tradition, attempt to make the sign of the cross and found I… found I could not.’

‘Ah,’ Merrily said.

She pulled the laptop and the bag and the wire from the altar. Brought out the airline bag.

‘Will a blessing cause offence?’

‘Perhaps not,’ Athena said.

In the last of the light, a glimpse of both her veiny hands quivering in her lap.

67

Invitation

A
LL THE LIGHTS
were on now, four hanging globes.

Merrily helped Athena back to her chair. You could feel the relief coming off her like steam. Or was that imagination?

‘You weren’t expecting it, were you?’

Athena scowled.

‘Of course I was, you silly girl. I only brought you in here to make you feel at home. Little
clergyperson.
’

Her mascara had spread down her cheeks. She was trying desperately not to shake.

Laying on of hands. Probably the first time she’d ever touched Athena White.

‘OK.’ Merrily finding she was breathing hard, close to panting, but it wasn’t hollow, it was nothing like a yawn. That had been the giveaway, that had brought the cold out of the screen. ‘He hasn’t been in here, to your knowledge?’

‘Last place he’d come,’ Athena said.

‘Right. Huw?’

‘I’m convinced, lass.’

‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you, have I, about Aisha. I suppose I wasn’t sure how much of it I believed. It’s a funny time, adolescence and the years that follow.’

‘You have to believe it,’ Huw said. ‘While you’re doing it, you have to believe it totally.
You
know that.’

‘I do.’

‘It’s what he does. If he thinks he can do it, he can. It’s about will power, self-belief. Tremendous, self-generating inner
world. Like Crowley. He could do it. Love is the law, love under will.’

She told him about Aisha. What Casey had said.
Like the face of a mature woman who’d… been round the block.

‘There’s a bond now,’ Huw said. ‘She doesn’t have to be in the valley. If he wants her, he’ll find her. And he’ll make her ill. And if he keeps on wi’ it she’ll die. And after that she won’t rest and the cycle goes on.’ He lowered himself to look into her eyes. ‘That’s what you have to believe, lass, if we’re going to do this.’

She nodded. She unzipped the airline bag, took out the prayer book, the Bible, the holy water, the wine, the wafers and laid them on the altar.

‘Right then, Huw. Let’s get Lol in. And then you can give me communion.’

‘And then you want to do it.’

‘Mmm.’

‘The major E? You? Or me?’

‘Yes. Me. It’s my patch,’ Merrily said.

Athena White kept out of it. Well, you couldn’t expect her to make too many concessions. But Lol… for the first time since they’d been together, Lol knelt before an altar, as if he was at last prepared to open himself to a wider plan. He was doing it for her, of course, but that didn’t matter. He looked up and she caught his eye.