For himself, he
wants something better.’
‘Cutting your
own toes off and eating them is better? What kind of a cockamamie crock of shit
is that?’
‘Just listen to
yourself
,’ M. Musette said. ‘Listen to the sound of
your own voice. You are a man of impulse and vulgarity, a man with no
spirituality whatsoever. You have spent your whole life in the empty pursuit of
something you can never find, which is yourself. Those endless meals you eat,
those endless miles you drive, you are looking for something which you left
behind with your wife and your son. Your soul is what I am talking about, Mr
McLean.
Your spirit.’
He paused briefly, and then he
said, ‘Your son came here because he didn’t want the same fate to befall him.
He has accompanied you on your travels for only a few days, but he has already
seen the tragedy of your life. It was you who precipitated his decision to come
here, not I, nor any of my Devotees.’
‘This is bull,’
Charlie retorted. ‘If it hadn’t been for Harriet Greene and that damned dwarf
of yours, he never would have known about
Le
Reposoir
.’
‘Oh yes,
dearest Harriet,’ said M. Musette. ‘Harriet has wanted to join us ever since I
first employed her as a waitress. A little too enthusiastic, I’m afraid; a
little too talkative. She never should have mentioned our name. And of course
David was waiting to collect her from the Iron Kettle and bring her here. He couldn’t
help noticing such an obvious candidate as Martin.’
‘Who’s David?’
Charlie demanded.
‘The one you
call the dwarf. David was a Devotee, too; but at the very height of his
initiation, he decided that he could no longer continue. It was impossible for him
to return to the outside world, of course; but to atone for his lack of faith
he acts as our gofer. His punishment for doubting the reality of heaven is the
lifelong humiliation of having to live in that part of his body which he denied
to the Lord.’
‘And Velma?
You got me involved with Velma deliberately,
didn’t you, so that Martin would have time to escape?’
‘Nobody obliged
you to get involved with Velma, Mr McLean. You did it of your own free will.
You put the
beastly desires of the flesh before your spiritual involvement with your son,
and that is why he left you. If you had stayed with him that night, then the
chances are that you could have convinced him that you are not the man he
perceives you to be. You might have won his heart for ever. As it is... he is
here now, and he is preparing himself for a physical and spiritual journey
whose end is glory.’
‘Take me to
him, now,’ said Charlie. ‘This is your last warning.’
‘He has no wish
to see you.’
‘I don’t give a
damn. He’s my son, he’s a minor, and I’m legally responsible for him. I’m
taking him away with me, and what’s more I’m going to make sure your ass is
thrown straight into jail, for kidnap, and unlawful imprisonment, and unnatural
practices, and anything else that the law can throw at you.’
M. Musette
laughed out loud. ‘Very well, you can see him if you want to. What else can I
do, but bow to such a terrifying threat? Let me call my wife, she will take
you.’
He went across
to a rococo-styled telephone and picked it up. ‘Aimee, this is Edouard. Yes,
that’s correct. I have Mr McLean with me, and Mr McLean is anxious to see
Martin before he leaves.’
M. Musette’s
familiar use of Martin’s Christian name was not lost on Charlie. Nor was the
implication that Charlie would be leaving alone.
‘My wife will
be with you directly,’ said M. Musette. ‘I hope very much that you will not be
excessively angry with us, my dear sir. Our beliefs are deeply rooted, and
tenaciously held, but we always do our very best to live in peace with those
who do not revere the body and blood in the same way that we do.’
He opened his
case and took out another cigarette. Charlie watched him in fascination and
loathing. M. Musette seemed so single-minded, his view of the world seemed so
complete; and Charlie felt that M. Musette had tipped open his brain like a
worn out carpetbag cluttered with fear and prejudice and stubborn odds and
ends. M. Musette lit his cigarette placidly, and returned Charlie’s grim stare
with the most courteous of smiles.
After a minute
or two, the doors opened, and Mme Musette stepped into the room. Charlie had
been right. She was indeed the beautiful fingerless woman in the black cloak.
Now, however, she was wearing a watered silk day dress in misty blue, and she
looked even more beautiful than before. Her eyes were startlingly wide; her
skin glowed; her lips were infini-tesimally parted in unconscious sensuality.
All that betrayed her involvement with the Celestines was the gloves she wore:
wrist-length cotton gloves in blue to match her dress.
‘Mr McLean,’
she said softly, and inclined her head. ‘Our security people have found your
car. If you will let me have the keys, they will return it to the front
entrance for you, so that you may leave here in comfort.’
Charlie reached
into his pocket and handed over his keys. ‘Just don’t be too anxious to get rid
of me, Mme Musette. I’m not leaving here without my son.’
‘Well, we shall
see,’ she said. ‘Would you care to come with me? Your son is upstairs, where
all our new Devotees stay.’
‘Please,’ said
M. Musette, and indicated with a smart click of his heels that Charlie should
follow his wife.
Mme Musette led
Charlie across the echoing marble-clad hallway. A thin youth with close-cropped
hair and a suit that looked as if it had once belonged to Buddy Holly stood at
the foot of the stairs. Mme Musette handed him Charlie’s car keys. The youth
gave Charlie a quick, insolent smile that Mme Musette either failed to notice
or ignored.
She mounted the
stairs and Charlie followed close behind her, smelling her perfume. He couldn’t
identify it. It wasn’t anything as modern as Obsession. It could have been
Chanel No. 5, but on Mme Musette’s skin it seemed to have acquired a flowery
aura all her own. Halfway up the stairs, Charlie said, ‘Are you a Devotee,
too?’
‘I was; but Edouard
decided that I could better serve the order if I were to assist him.’
‘So you stopped
at a few fingers, is that it?’
Mme Musette
turned her head and glanced at him. ‘That’s it. You have it exactly.’
‘Are you all
headcases or what?’ Charlie asked her.
‘I don’t know
what you mean, headcases.’
‘I mean are you
mad? In my book, self-mutilation is the act of a lunatic. As for eating
yourself, that’s so far out I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Didn’t Edouard
explain our beliefs to you?’
‘Oh, yes, sure
he did. But I notice that Edouard hasn’t started making himself into
Edouardburger yet, whatever he says about his beliefs. And he stopped you
before you got to the best bits.’
‘You cannot
make sport of us, Mr McLean,” she replied. ‘Edouard is our Supreme Guide, and
like all of the Guides in the Celestine order it is his duty to remain whole
until the end of his natural life. It is a duty – not a privilege. The truly
privileged members of the Celestines are those who manage to devour so much of
themselves
that there is scarcely anything remaining to make
a meal for their mentors.’
They had
reached the landing. Charlie said, ‘You know something? If any of this is true,
it’s criminal and it’s maniacal and it’s totally disgusting. I thought James
Jones was nuts, but you people are unreal.’
‘Come see your
son,’ said Mme Musette gently. ‘But may I warn you not to upset him? He is in
the early stages of self-preparation, and if you try to bully him into leaving
Le Re-posoir you may cause him lasting psychological damage. You will certainly
lose his affection for ever.’
‘Don’t let’s
make any mistakes here,’ said Charlie. ‘That boy is coming away with me right
now.’
He was angry;
but he still wished that he didn’t sound so much like Archie Bunker. The
Musettes were bringing out his blue-collar Indiana background and there was
nothing that he could do to stop it.
They walked
down the same corridor to which Velma had taken him, all the way down to a door
at the end. Mme Musette raised her deformed hand and knocked. There was a short
delay, and then the door opened and a girl’s face appeared.
Dark,
Latin-looking, with unplucked eyebrows.
‘This is
Martin’s father,’ said Mme Musette. ‘He wishes to speak to Martin before he
leaves.’
The
Latin-looking girl glanced quickly at Charlie and then shook her head. ‘It is
not possible, madame. He is already preparing himself.’
Charlie stepped
forward and pushed the door. ‘Come on, honey, just get out of the way will you?
I want to talk to my son.’
The girl tried to
resist him, but Charlie gave her a sharp dig in the breast with his elbow, and
she released her hold on the door. Mme Musette cried, ‘No, Mr McLean!’ but
Charlie ignored her and barged into the room.
A white cotton
blind had been drawn across the window, so the room was dim. There was a plain
bed, covered by a white cotton sheet, a tubular steel chair, a white-painted
bedside cupboard with a Bible on it, and that was all. Martin lay on the bed
staring at the ceiling. He was naked.
‘Martin! For
Christ’s sake!’ said Charlie, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘Martin,
it’s
Dad here!’
He went up to
the bed and took hold of Martin’s hand. Martin’s eyes slowly turned to look at
him as if he had all the time in the world. ‘You came,’ he whispered. His voice
sounded as if he were drugged.
‘Of course I
came. What did you expect? Why didn’t you talk to me before you left? You
didn’t have to come to a place like this.’
Martin smiled.
‘This is the only place, Dad. This is really and truly the only place.’
‘Martin?’ Charlie
asked. ‘Did they give you any kind of injection?
Any pills,
or dope, or anything like that?’
Before Martin could reply, he turned
around to Mme Musette, who was standing in the open doorway and he waved his
finger at her threateningly. ‘Believe me, lady, you’re in deep trouble. Where
are his clothes?’
‘He has
renounced his clothes,’ said the Latin-looking girl.
Til renounce you in a minute!’
Charlie roared at her. ‘Just
bring me his fucking clothes!’
‘Mr McLean,’
put in Mme Musette, ‘I did warn you that it would do you no good to lose your
temper.’
Charlie ignored
her. ‘Martin,’ he said, ‘you’re coming with me, and you’re coming now. The
car’s outside. You can put on something of mine.’
‘I’m not coming
with you, Dad,’ said Martin. He seemed to be completely unperturbed.
‘Am I hearing
you straight? Do you know what these people expect you to do?’
‘I know all
about the Celestines, David told me.
That day in the parking
lot; and that night at Mrs Kemp’s.
We talked about it for hours. I know
what they do and I know why they do it and I want to do it, too.’
‘You want to
eat yourself? Are you bananas?’
The absurdity
of what his father had said made Martin chuckle. It was that chuckle that
unsettled Charlie more than anything else. His own son could lie here and laugh
because he had said something stupid; when all the time he was volunteering to
commit suicide, slowly and ritualistically and obscenely.
Charlie grabbed
hold of Martin’s wrists and tried to wrench him off the bed. But Martin twisted
away from him, and kicked him in the ribs with his bare foot, and then seized
the rails at the head of the bed and glared at Charlie defiantly.
‘Dad, this is
my life and this is my decision.’
Charlie turned
on Mme Musette again. ‘You’ve hypnotized him, right? Is that it? Am I right?
You’ve
hypnotized him!’
Mme Musette was
holding the hand of the Latin-looking girl in order to restrain her. The girl
was obviously
distressed,
and kept tugging at her hair
and mewling. ‘There is no question of drugs or hypnosis or any artificial
stimulant,’ Mme Musette said. ‘We believe in the sanctity of the body, we
believe in its purity. We would never allow anything to taint the flesh which
we ourselves must eat.’
‘Martin, come
with me!’ Charlie ordered him, but Martin’s hands remained clenched on the
rails at the head of the bed, and he shook his head in adamant refusal.
Charlie took a
deep breath. He looked at his son and could see by the expression on his face
that, for now, the Musettes had won. He couldn’t pick Martin up bodily and
carry him out of
Le Reposoir
, he
simply wasn’t strong enough. And that was supposing M. Musette and his staff
would allow him to carry Martin out of the house without any opposition at all.
‘All right,’ he
conceded.
Tm going to leave you for now.
But let me
tell you right here and now that the first stop I’m going to be making is the
county
sheriffs
office, and if necessary I’m going to
inform the FBI, too. Then we’ll see who makes a meal out of whom.’
Charlie
contemptuously brushed Mme Musette aside and began stalking back down the
corridor. ‘Mr McLean!’ she called after him. ‘It won’t do you any good!’
Til let the
sheriff
be
the judge of that,’ Charlie retorted. ‘And
one more thing – if Martin is missing even one fingernail by the time I get
back here, I’m personally going to take the law into my own hands and I’m going
to kill you.
You and your husband both – slowly!’
He ran down the
stairs, across the hallway, and out of the huge front doors. As promised, his
car was waiting for him, with its hood dented and clumps of grass still
clinging to its wheel-arches.