The Cure of Souls (24 page)

‘Mmm.’

‘She’s an intelligent girl, but she’s got away with too much at home, which is why she expects to get away with the minimum of work at school. Swans around the place under this thin veneer of disdain at having to spend her days with children. You getting the picture?’

‘A bully, would you say?’

‘Not in the physical sense, far as I know. To be honest, I don’t think she’d lower herself. I think she can be intimidating enough, without resorting to physical violence. I mean, she’s quite…’

The line went quiet. Jane’s word had been ‘sinister.’

‘Something you’re thinking about, particularly?’ Merrily pulled her sermon-pad into the lamplight, reached for a fibretip. ‘Something which might save us both some time?’

She heard him breathe down his nose. ‘I’m thinking, inevitably, about the Christmas Fair we held at the school last year. Did you come?’

‘No, I was… a bit busy before Christmas. And Jane was off school, she wasn’t very—No, we didn’t come.’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘I can tell you we were all quite surprised, to say the least, when Ms Riddock volunteered to take part in the fund-raising – a Christmas Fair being something she might normally consider well beneath her. What she did, she approached the teacher in charge of the event and volunteered to set up a fortune-telling stall.’

‘Oh, did she?’

‘Yeah,’ he said ruefully. ‘I thought that might get you. Made a few of the staff sit up when she appeared on the day in full gypsy costume.
Very
exotic – and very expensive, too, according to my wife. Long, low-cut black dress, big gold earrings – gold, not brass. Black hat with a dark veil. All very mature, very mysterious, just a bit sinister, I suppose – but that may be hindsight.’

She always looks… tainted, somehow
, Jane had said. Merrily lit a cigarette.

‘Some of the staff had reservations from the start,’ Morrell said. ‘But as it was the first time in anyone’s memory that Layla Riddock’d shown any enthusiasm for anything apart from burning rubber outside the gates, they weren’t inclined to push it. So they set her up in the hall, back of the stage, behind a curtain. Somebody painted a sign –
Gypsy Layla
– and, as all the other stalls were fairly routine, people were queuing up to cross her palm with silver. Men, too, once they’d seen her.’

‘She’s
very
attractive?’

‘I suppose you would say she exudes a certain hormonal something. Something you don’t often find at school Christmas fairs, anyway.’

‘And was she good at telling fortunes?’

‘She was bloody good at frightening people,’ Robert Morrell said bitterly. ‘Wouldn’t have frightened
me
, as you probably realize by now. But I accept that a lot of people are taken in by that kind of rubbish, against all their better instincts. Anyway, I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but I gather that the usual routine is to tell the customers they’re going to cross the water, or come into some money, live long and happy lives, have lots of children.’

‘What was she using? Crystal ball?’

‘I wouldn’t know. She was certainly reading palms at some stage. Anyway, the staff started to notice that very few people were coming out actually smiling. And the ones who did, their smiles tended to be rather strained. Then some granny emerges
very white-faced and almost fainting. One of the female staff sits her down, brings her a cup of tea, learns that Layla’s looked at her palm and advised her to start getting her affairs in order because she
ain’t… got… long
.’

‘Oh.’

‘Quite. There were several others, we found out later. One pregnant woman, for instance, had been told to prepare for the worst. Or, as Layla apparently put it, “I see a withering in your womb.” ’

‘You found this out on the night?’

‘Not all of it. Some of the stories came out over a period of days. But, I suppose, the atmosphere on the night itself… well, as Christmas Fairs go, it’s fair to say there was gradually less of an ambience of comfort and joy than one might have wished for.’

‘She wasn’t stopped?’

‘Oh, she
was
stopped. Eventually. One of the parents had been kicking up about it long before it became widely known that she was taking people’s money for predicting death and sickness. The guy was objecting on religious grounds. Eventually, to my shame, we had to use that as a way of bringing it to a close.’

‘Anyone talk to Layla afterwards – ask her why she was doing this to people?’

‘I had Sandra – the deputy head – haul her in on the Monday morning. Waste of time. The girl pretended she couldn’t understand what the fuss was about – she was simply passing on the information she was picking up. Psychically. She claimed there was a long line of gypsies on her father’s side – her real father. I wanted to make her an appointment with the schools psychiatrist…’

Merrily wrote down:
Gypsies – ask J
.

‘But Sandra talked me out of taking it any further. Let it go. Just make bloody sure Gypsy Layla and her crystal ball don’t get invited back.’

‘Any of the kids, the other students, go in to get their fortunes told?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Who was the parent who complained?’

‘A religious nutter. I’m sorry, I
should
say, one of our churchgoing parents, appalled that such a thing should be allowed to go on in an educational establishment, was threatening to take it up with the Director of Education. I was a bit short with him at first.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Is that important?’

‘Might be.’

‘Shelbone.’ A thoughtful pause. ‘David Shelbone. Father of – a fourth-year girl. And unfortunately he works for the council. He actually
knows
the Director of Education.’

Merrily kept her voice steady. ‘Layla know about this?’

‘Well, yes, of course, everybody did. I… the way we played it – and I’m not proud of this, but it seemed expedient at the time – Shelbone was still around, in another part of the school, so we had someone tip him off that people had been upset by the girl’s predictions. Sure enough, he comes rushing back.
In God’s name, stop this wickedness!
Embarrassing, really.’ Morrell chuckled. ‘But I don’t think anybody else went to have their fortune told after that. After a few minutes, Gypsy Layla walks away through the hall, head held high, grim little smile on her face. Crisis over.’

‘You thought.’ Merrily sat in the circle of lamplight and tried to remember if Jane had ever mentioned the incident. But she hadn’t gone back to school until the January term; probably all blown over by then.

‘And that’s all I can tell you,’ Morrell said. ‘However, if you
are
planning to take this any further, I’d offer two suggestions – one, if you’re going to take on Layla Riddock, remember you’re taking on Allan Henry, too, and he’s a man with unlimited money and with friends in high places.’

‘Not as high as mine, I always like to think.’ Merrily was starting to feel light-headed. How peevishly simple this could all turn out to be: Shelbone terminates Layla’s power-trip; Layla puts the frighteners on Shelbone’s daughter.

Morrell said, ‘My other advice is, leave Shelbone alone.’

‘You think he might try to convert me to Christianity?’

‘If you want to know about David Shelbone, talk to our friend Charlie Howe. He’ll tell you what kind of fanatic you’re dealing with – and I don’t just mean religion, which would probably never seem like fanaticism to you. The other reason not to bother Shelbone is that I’m afraid the poor guy has personal problems at the moment. I… I had a call about it earlier this evening. His daughter attempted suicide this afternoon.’

Merrily froze, the cigarette at her lips.

‘Less uncommon, I’m afraid, than it used to be,’ Morrell said, ‘especially at this time of year – children thinking they’ve done badly in their GCSEs, therefore their lives must be over. Maybe nothing at all to do with us, so I’m not going to theorize at this stage. Summer can be a stressful time for some kids.’

‘What did she do to herself?’ Half an inch of ash fell to the desk.

‘Friend of… Jane’s – is she?’

‘What did she
do
?’

‘Overdose, I believe. Taken to the County Hospital. They got to her in time, I
gather
.’

Merrily closed her eyes. The penny started spinning.

‘Always sad,’ Morrell said. Just like Merrily, he must have been putting two and two together from the moment the name Shelbone left his lips.

But he
did
have to be at the airport by seven.

‘So… if that’s all, I’ll get off to bed,’ he said.

She called Dennis Beckett; he knew nothing about Amy and an overdose. He couldn’t seem to absorb the significance. ‘But I
prayed
with her,’ he said querulously. ‘We prayed
together
.’ And then he added vaguely, ‘Perhaps she should have seen a doctor.’

‘Her parents wouldn’t.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘when
I
left her, she was spiritually calm.’

And how could you possibly know that?

Merrily asked him if he’d be visiting the parents tomorrow.
‘You are still minding the parish, aren’t you?’

‘Why
did
this have to happen?’ Dennis said plaintively.

Meaning, why did it have to happen while Jeff Kimball was on holiday.

‘What is it you want me to try and find out?’ he asked her at last, with resignation. He clearly didn’t want to have anything more to do with this case.

‘Could you find out if they’ll talk to me?’ Merrily said. ‘Both of them?’

She switched off the anglepoise and sat in the dark, watching the red light on the answering machine, wondering how she would have handled this if she’d known from the beginning about Layla Riddock.

When she switched the light back on, nothing seemed any clearer and it was eleven-thirty. She called Huw Owen, who never seemed to sleep.

‘I tossed the coin,’ she told him eventually. ‘It came up tails. Twice tails: no spiritual interference, no unquiet spirit.’

‘And how did you feel, lass?’

‘Weird.’

‘Come on, talk grown-up, eh?’

‘Sorry. I felt separation. Transcendence. Little me, big God. Plus, I was in there all night, but it felt like… not so long.’

‘How long?’

‘Six hours felt like – I don’t know – less than two. And you don’t fall asleep on your knees, do you?’

‘Contraction of time, eh?’

‘And it was… profound, moving, exalting – all that stuff. But I’m trying not to get carried away, because somehow it didn’t tally with what happened afterwards, out here in the material world. It’s not been a great day for me, Huw.’

‘Bugger me.’ She heard him drawing in a thin breath, like the wind through a keyhole. ‘You’re still expecting God to make it
easy
?’

‘I should scourge myself, put Brillo pads in my underwear?’

‘What I’m thinking, Merrily,’ Huw said reasonably, ‘is if you were in the church all last night, you should be getting some sleep. Just a thought.’

‘I grabbed an hour or so earlier. Look, I’ve got a kid who tried to kill herself. What can I do?’

‘Nowt. Let this Dennis pick up the mucky end of the stick for a change. Hang back, see what transpires.’

‘What
transpires
? Hasn’t enough bloody transpired?’

‘The girl’ll be safe in hospital for the time being.’

‘And what about Layla Riddock?’

‘Aye,’ he said, ‘there’s your problem, looks like. But we’re not the police. And even if we were, what’s she done wrong?’

‘Apart from terrifying old ladies and driving a little girl to the point of suicide as an act of pure vengeance?’

‘All right, it’s a tough one,’ he admitted. ‘Needs thought, prayer.’

‘Or the toss of a coin?’

‘Get off to bed, Merrily,’ Huw growled.

She lay in bed, with Ethel the cat in the cleft in the duvet between her knees. She slept eventually. She dreamed, over and over, that the phone was ringing. She dreamed of a withering foetus inside her and awoke, sweating, and then closed her eyes, visualizing a golden cross in blue air above her, and slept again and awoke – something coming back to her from the night in the church. And she thought,
Justine
?

Awakening, stickily, into blindingly mature sunlight and the echoey squeak-and-clang of the cast-iron knocker on the front door.

Panic. Jane would be late for—Stumbling halfway downstairs, dragging on her towelling robe before she realized there was no Jane to worry about. The knocking had long stopped; she didn’t know how long it had been going on, and now the phone was shrilling. She dragged open the front door, and found nobody there. She ran through to the
scullery, saw she’d left the anglepoise lamp on all night, and grabbed the phone.

‘Oh. I was begining to think you’d left already.’

‘Sophie—? Oh God, what time is it?’

‘It’s just gone eight. Are you all right?’

‘Er – yeh. Sorry, I… Late night.’

‘You haven’t forgotten Mr Stock?’

‘Mr S—?’

‘The haunted hop-kiln,’ Sophie said. ‘You’re due there by nine, remember? I made an appointment for you?’

‘Oh
shit
…’

‘Merrily, I was ringing to warn you that we’ve had more calls from the press. The
People
asked if they could be there – exclusively – for the exorcism. We said on
no
account. We also declined to confirm that there was going to
be
an exorcism. Also, more alarming as far as the Bishop was concerned, the religious affairs correspondent of the
Daily Telegraph
—’

‘Did you know Amy Shelbone had tried to kill herself?’

‘
What?
’

‘Consequently, I need to speak to both the Shelbones. I think I’ve finally got some idea of what it’s about. Now, obviously they’re not going to want to speak to me, after what—’

‘Is the child all right?’

‘I think so. I don’t know. I haven’t had—’

‘I’ll talk to them. I’ll arrange something if I can. Merrily. Meanwhile… I hate to do this over the phone, and I did try to reach you last night but you were constantly engaged… I have to tell you the Bishop would like you to expedite this hop-kiln thing with the minimum fuss and the minimum publicity. He doesn’t want it dragged out. He doesn’t want to see you walking out of there into a circus of flashbulbs and TV lights.’