Authors: Anthea Fraser
‘They mean a great deal to you, don’t they?’
‘Everything,’ he said simply.
‘If you had to state your beliefs, Daniel, exactly what would they be?’
‘I believe in a new heaven and a new earth. That’s our basic creed. In the early days of the Movement we were known as the Neo Celestians.’
‘But a new heaven and earth where?’
‘Here — heaven on earth, a new world, where God and man live together.’
‘And woman!’ Nina said with a smile.
‘As it says in legal documents, “Man shall embrace woman”! I’m so thankful you found us, Nina,’ he went on more seriously. ‘We need people like you — I knew it at once, and Brad confirmed it.’
‘Brad?’
‘He’s a psychologist, didn’t you know? He screens potential recruits for us and advises us to reject those he thinks unsuitable.’
‘But I thought you wanted everyone you could get?’
‘Up to a point that’s true, but sometimes we get people who are unstable, or who aren’t genuine and want to make trouble. With Brad’s help, we can root them out before they infiltrate. And he also picks out those he thinks capable of becoming leaders. The vast majority never will, but that’s not important. They’ve been saved, and they bring in others. Noah’s ravens and doves, we call them.
‘You, though, have an air of authority; people would follow you unquestioningly. Brad thinks you could rise as high as Pastor or even Prelate.’
Privately and — with some relief — Nina doubted Brad’s judgement. He’d not spotted her as an infiltrator, which she’d undoubtedly been in the beginning. Or had he seen beneath initial suspicion to a deeper commitment? The thought made her uncomfortable; though she admired the Movement, she was not ready to commit herself. She therefore threw a pebble into his certainty.
‘I thought God promised there wouldn’t be another Flood?’
Daniel remained untroubled. ‘That’s an inaccuracy in translation. And as I explained, it won’t be total devastation this time. Thousands of us around the world will survive, with the majority of animals.’
Nina remembered Webb’s suggestion of water-wings. ‘How? The animals, I mean?’
‘It’s not for us to question, Nina, simply to accept.’
‘And what about the millions of people who’ll perish?’
He shrugged. ‘We’re giving as many as possible the chance to join us, but the Devil’s had it his own way for too long; the majority have drifted into his camp.’
Nina paused to look behind her at the sun-bathed landscape. It seemed odd in such a setting to be talking about the Devil and all his works.
‘You must meet a fair bit of hostility,’ she said. ‘Does it bother you?’
‘In a way it makes things easier, by showing up the Devil’s agents.’
Nina said incredulously, ‘You believe that everyone who opposes you works for the Devil?’
He looked surprised. ‘Of course. I should have thought that was obvious.’
She opened her mouth to protest, but perhaps fortunately Alice’s voice reached them as she came running back to ask if it was lunch-time, and the moment passed.
Having collected the picnic hamper from the car, they found a hollow out of the wind and settled down to enjoy their lunch. But Nina, only half-listening to her daughter’s chatter, was still considering Daniel’s statements of belief. When expounded by Noah Bellringer they had seemed acceptable, even convincing; now, on this sunlit afternoon, they appeared suddenly full of threat.
When the meal was over, Alice took her skipping rope to the far side of the hollow and embarked on a complicated routine.
‘It could be a scene out of the past, couldn’t it?’ Daniel commented, leaning on his elbow as he watched her. ‘A little girl called Alice and her skipping rope — part of an older, safer world.’
‘What was the little boys’ equivalent? Marbles?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not much of an authority on childhood, since I never really had one.’
Nina lay back on the warm grass. ‘How so?’
‘I was illegitimate, and the fact that I came from “a good family” made it worse. After a year or two my mother married an American and went to live in the States.’
‘Leaving you behind?’
He nodded, his eyes still on Alice’s flying legs.
‘But what happened to you?’
‘My grandmother brought me up. She was kind enough, but I always felt I was a nuisance. When I was eight I was sent to boarding school, where the other boys teased me because I didn’t live with my parents like everyone else. It wasn’t a particularly happy childhood.’
‘You never felt part of a family?’
‘Not till I joined the Movement. That was the turning point, for the others as well as me. We’re all damaged in some way, but being together gives us a sense of worth, of belonging. Nothing and no one, Nina, is more important than the Captain and his vision of a better world. Never forget that.’
Nina, who’d been watching his face during this speech, saw the feverish gleam in his eyes and was disturbed by it. Faith, she thought, was one thing, fanaticism another. And as though to underline her unease a cloud suddenly raced across the sun, plunging their hollow into shadow and switching the warmth to a sudden coolness which presaged autumn.
She shivered. There wouldn’t be many more picnics this year. By mutual consent they gathered their things together and set off back to the car.
On the drive home, Nina remembered that wild moment of happiness up on the ridge, but it was as though it had happened to someone else.
*
‘Hannah! Bless you for coming.’
Dilys seized her arm and drew her into the house. ‘She’s out with the baby at the moment but they’re always back by four-thirty. He has half an hour’s “playtime” before his bath, after which he’s fed and put down at six. I can set my watch by it.’
‘I thought such rigorous time-keeping was out of fashion.’
‘Fashion or not, he’s the most contented baby I’ve ever come across.’
‘Which,’ Hannah teased, ‘isn’t saying much. Does he sleep through the night?’
‘So Susie maintains. Certainly I’ve never heard him.’ Hannah settled herself on the sofa. ‘Well, tell me about the girl. What’s worrying you?’
‘For one thing she’s so self-contained and secretive — like an automaton, almost. Totally unapproachable.’
‘And that’s a problem? I thought your main concern was that she’d get in your way?’
‘Don’t rub it in, Hannah, I know I’m being illogical. But I did at least expect a friendly smile if we met on the stairs.’
‘Which you don’t get?’
‘No, just a cool nod as she hurries past.’ Dilys paused. ‘Mind you, I probably got her back up the other day, when I went to her room.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘To see what she was doing,’ Dilys said bluntly. ‘Though I made the excuse of offering her coffee.’
‘And what was she doing? Stirring toads’ eyes into a cauldron?’
Dilys smiled sheepishly. ‘Working, as Susie said. The dressing-table was being used as a desk and there were papers and text books everywhere. She said she was writing a treatise.’
‘And she suspected you of spying on her?’
‘Quite probably.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘I still don’t get it. She keeps out of your way — no doubt obeying Susie’s stringent instructions — the baby doesn’t disturb you, and you say she’s marvellous with him. Why can’t you just relax and get on with your book?’
‘You think I’m making excuses, don’t you?’
‘Aren’t you?’ Hannah challenged her.
‘Not really, though I confess the block’s still there. But dammit, when I agreed she could come to the house, I did at least expect a human being!’
There was a tap on the door and Peggy came in with the tea-tray. As she left the room, Hannah nodded after her. ‘Any friction there?’
‘None whatever, but Peggy’s enslaved by the baby. I even overheard her begging to be allowed to bath him.’
‘Well, I honestly can’t see what’s worrying you.’
Dilys poured tea from the silver pot. ‘Wait till you see her, then you can decide for yourself. And if you think I’m going round the twist and she’s a perfectly normal young woman, then I’ll abide by what you say and swallow my misgivings. In the meantime, let’s talk of something else. What about that member of staff you were worried about?’
‘Don’t ask!’ Hannah said darkly, taking her cup and saucer. ‘I braced myself to have a talk with her, and she has looked marginally neater since. Then, yesterday, she collapsed in class.’
‘Good grief! What caused that?’
‘Nervous exhaustion, according to John Templeton, accentuated by malnutrition. I told you she hardly ate a thing.’
‘But what’s the matter with her?’
‘Lord knows. A complete breakdown, 1 shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Mental, you mean?’
‘And physical. Why did this have to happen while Gwen’s away?’
‘Where is she now?’
‘In the san.’
‘So what happens next?’
‘I wish I knew. We’ll wait and see what John advises.’
‘Perhaps,’ Dilys said rallyingly, ‘it’s nothing serious, and a weekend in bed will put her right.’
‘Let us devoutly hope so.’
The sound of the front door reached them, and Dilys tensed. ‘There they are now.’
She stood up quickly, rocking the small tea-table as she hurried to the door. Hannah heard her say with false brightness, ‘Miss Baines, would you bring the baby into the sitting-room? I have a friend here, and she’d very much like to see him.’
Hannah caught only a murmured reply but when, a moment later, the young woman followed Dilys unsmilingly into the room, the baby in her arms, she felt a jolt of surprise. It was the woman she’d seen talking to Miss Hendrix outside the library.
As Dilys introduced the nanny, she wondered whether to mention this, but decided against it. Instead, she said pleasantly, ‘I’m delighted to meet this young man. His mother was one of my star pupils at Ashbourne.’
Sarah Baines smiled fleetingly, coming forward so Hannah could see the baby more clearly. He regarded her with the disconcerting gaze of the very young, and Hannah, while talking to him and stroking his smooth round cheek and dimpled fist, unobtrusively took stock of his nanny.
As Dilys had said, there was a standoffish air about her which might possibly mask shyness. She was tall and pale, her hair severely pulled back, her dress plain and without ornament. Like a Quaker, Hannah thought. But the look of almost yearning tenderness with which she regarded her charge was strangely moving. Dilys was right there; whatever else this strange young woman might do or not do, she would never harm the child.
Sebastian, who had stoically withstood Hannah’s attentions, became bored with them and turned his head away. Sarah said quietly, ‘I’ll take him upstairs now,’ and with a nod at the two women, carried him out of the room.
‘Not “if you don’t mind” or “if that’s all right”, you notice,’ Dilys commented, returning to her cooling cup of tea. ‘Just “I’ll take him upstairs.” Well —’ she looked steadily at Hannah — ‘what’s the verdict?’
Hannah said, ‘She’s different, I’ll grant you that.’
Dilys was watching her closely. ‘And?’
‘A rather strange coincidence. I saw her in town a week ago talking to Miss Hendrix, the member of staff who’s collapsed.’
Dilys gave a bark of laughter. ‘So your problem and my problem are connected. How tidy!’
But Hannah wasn’t smiling. Because Miss Hendrix, too, seemed set apart from the rest of them, the very quality that had disturbed Dilys in the nanny. And now it appeared they knew each other. Had their strangeness evolved from the same source?
Dilys said quietly, ‘I wasn’t imagining it, was I?’
‘No, I don’t think you were, but there’s nothing you can do. If Susie’s satisfied with her and she’s good with the baby —’
‘She raises the hairs on the back of my neck.’
‘Ignore it — you have to. Go back to your book and shut everything else out of your mind. If you don’t think about her she’ll go away — in two weeks, if not before. And now,’ Hannah said firmly, as Dilys started to protest, ‘perhaps I could have another cup of tea?’
WDS Sally Pierce looked helplessly at the weeping woman across the desk. Probably the claustrophobic atmosphere of the interview room was intimidating, but there was nowhere else to take her. The two little girls, aged roughly four and six, hung on to their mother’s coat and surveyed Sally with wide, frightened eyes.
‘Mrs Palmer,’ she said gently, ‘please try to stop crying. It’s upsetting the children.’
‘But I don’t know what to do!’ the woman sobbed. She raised her head and made an ineffectual attempt to dry her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve kept going for months now, hoping it would all come right. Today I’ve had to face the fact that it won’t.’
‘Try to tell me what happened,’ Sally prompted.
Mrs Palmer was continuing with her own line of thought. ‘What I can’t understand is Trevor being taken in by these people — believing in them, I mean. He’s an intelligent man, he has a degree and is — was — a partner in his computer firm. But these last months he’s changed unbelievably. He gave up his job and spends all his time going round trying to convert people before it’s “too late”. And worst of all, he seems to think I’m evil.’
She started weeping again. This time Sally let her continue until she herself made an effort at control.
‘They seemed so nice at first,’ she said then, ‘friendly and kind. But when they realized I didn’t want to join them, they changed completely. They told Trevor I’d been sent by Satan to deflect him from the true path to God. Satan!’ she repeated hysterically. ‘I didn’t think people talked like that any more. And now Trevor’s withdrawn all our savings, and made it over to them, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it! All he can talk about is this Noah Bellringer, who’s coming over here. I wish I could get my hands on him!’
Sally repeated the conversation to Webb later. ‘I gave her that address that’s on the board, Guv. Do you think they’ll be able to help her?’
‘More than we can, at any rate.’
‘But surely she’s exaggerating? It seems amazing that in this day and age —’
‘This day and age is the whole trouble, Sally,’ Webb said heavily. ‘People feel let down by accepted religions and they’re desperate enough to believe anything.’
‘But he’s an educated man, Mr Palmer, he’s not —’
‘They’re the ones most at risk. These cults are very convincing, you know; they appeal to people with a social conscience, who are “caring”, in the modern jargon. But if anything conflicts with their raison d’être — which is what their religion is — they can be as ruthless and single-minded as any other fanatics. Because that’s what they are, Sally, make no mistake. They’re fanatics, and very dangerous.’
Sally said helplessly, ‘But can’t we do anything?’
‘Not unless they break the law. Mrs Palmer’s right there; if her husband wants to give up everything and join the Revvies, there’s nothing either she or we can do to stop him.’
*
There had been a heavy dew overnight and the grass was still drenched. Hannah walked slowly down the school drive, delighting in the shimmering spiders’ webs, studded with drops of water, which festooned every bush. Berries clustered thickly, and overhead the leaves were turning colour, deepening from yellow through rust to deepest red.
Normally, she loved this time of year but at the moment problems were pressing too heavily on her for any real enjoyment. As she was leaving her study just now, Charles had phoned to finalize the arrangements for Friday. She was still not sure she’d done right in accepting, and hoped he wouldn’t take it as encouragement. Also, the Frenches were sure to be there, and that could be embarrassing.
Which brought her back to her problems. She was not naïve enough to imagine that, with their cassettes and pamphlets confiscated, the girls would forget their experiences and revert to normal. Phone-calls and mail were monitored, but she had the uneasy feeling that such measures would prove no match for the Revvies. Somehow, they would contrive to keep up their pressure on potential recruits until they had their full allegiance.
She had reached the gate and stood for a moment, drawing in the still, clear air. Ashbourne School stood in prime position in the curve of the crescent that was Montpellier Gardens and immediately opposite its gates were the small, railed gardens to which all the residents held a key. Occasionally, when she was free and the school grounds were noisy with tennis or hockey matches, Hannah came here to read through her papers or a book, sometimes merely to sit under the trees and recharge her batteries, grateful for its green quietness. Now, however, she was on a specific errand, and turned to her right to follow the crescent round to the school boarding houses.
Austen and Bronte Houses were adjacent to each other in their own grounds, each accommodating fifty boarders, and a single-storey annexe to Austen formed the school sanatorium. It was there that Hannah was bound.
The school employed three trained nurses who were known by the title of ‘Matron’, one based in the school building and one in each of the boarding houses. Unless there was an epidemic, when extra nursing staff were called in, they shared the care of sanatorium patients between them.
Hannah turned into Austen’s gateway and walked down the drive alongside the house to the annexe at the end of it — a drive wide enough, should need arise, to allow an ambulance access. They had had their share of faulty tonsils and appendixes over the years but thankfully seldom anything more serious.
Janet Rimmer, Bronte’s matron, was on duty at the desk in the wide entrance hall, and she rose as Hannah entered. ‘Good morning, Miss James.’
‘Good morning. I’ve called to see how Miss Hendrix is.’
Miss Rimmer shook her head doubtfully. ‘The doctor’s due later today, but I’m concerned about her. She’s desperate to go home.’
‘Is she eating?’
‘A little.’
Hannah indicated the basket she held. ‘I’ve brought fruit rather than flowers, in the hope of tempting her. Which room is she in?’
‘Four, just down the passage. Shall I —?’
‘No, don’t trouble, I’ll find my own way.’
She walked down the corridor, tapped lightly on the door and, receiving no response, pushed it open. The room was small and bright, with sunshine pouring through the window. Mattie Hendrix lay like a small bird on the high hospital bed, her face as white as the pillow beneath it. On seeing Hannah, she hastily struggled into a sitting position, clutching the sheet against her bony breast.
‘Oh, Miss James — how kind.’
‘Please — there’s no need to sit up. I’ve brought you some fruit.’ She set it down on the cabinet alongside the bed and Mattie murmured confused thanks. ‘Are you feeling a little better?’
‘I’m fine — just fine. I feel a complete fraud lying here causing so much bother.’ Her thin face flushed. ‘I’m so very sorry about Friday — I can’t think what came over me. What must the class have thought?’
‘They were concerned, as you see.’ Hannah had caught sight of the large ‘Get Well’ card propped on the windowsill.
‘After all these years of teaching, to lose control like that — it’s unbelievable. I assure you it won’t happen again.’
‘I’m sure it won’t, but in the meantime you need looking after until you’re back to yourself again.’
‘But I am — I’ve fully recovered. In fact, I asked Matron if she’d have some books sent in for me to be working on, but she refused.’
‘I should think so,’ Hannah said, smiling to dissipate the sternness of her words. ‘You’re here to rest and build up your strength.’ Privately, she could appreciate Matron’s concern; there was a feverishness about the patient, a kind of urgency, which was disquieting and indicated that the reason for her collapse might be more deep-seated than they’d realized.
‘But you’ll impress on Dr Templeton that I’m quite well?’ she was insisting. ‘I so dislike being behind with my work, both for the school and my personal affairs.’
‘I’ll have a word with him, but of course the decision is his.’ And yet, thought Hannah, if the woman was fretting so much to get back, she was unlikely to improve under enforced confinement.
She stayed a few minutes more, chatting generally about school affairs, and as she left, had to promise again to put in a word with the doctor.
Janet Rimmer rose anxiously as Hannah approached the entrance hall. ‘What did you think?’
‘I agree with you — I don’t like the look of her. Would you ask Dr Templeton to come to the school when he’s seen her?’
‘Of course.’ The Matron hesitated. ‘Forgive my asking, Miss James, but did you take that business of the cassette any further?’
‘Yes, I spoke to the girls, without any notable success, and had their parents in to see me.’
‘Were they concerned?’
‘Yes, I think we can say they’re concerned. There haven’t been any further incidents?’
‘No. The girls are always in corners whispering together, but then they always have been.’
‘But none of the others seem to be involved?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
‘We’ll just have to hope we’ve nipped it in the bud,’ said Hannah, and trusted she sounded more positive than she felt.
*
When Sally had left him, Webb sat staring gloomily at the pile of papers in front of him. Statements had now been collected from virtually everyone who’d been at the King’s Head last Monday, but no further light shed on the mysterious couple with whom Kershaw had left the bar.
The rest of the feelers he’d put out were meeting with varying degrees of success. A taxi-driver based at the station remembered taking a fare to Calder’s Close around ten-thirty last Monday, which confirmed what they’d already guessed. Kershaw’s wife was being asked for the name of his solicitors; it would have been natural for him to contact them after seeing Soames.
The other French inquiries had proved negative: Kershaw had been happily married and respected in his neighbourhood. Though known in local gambling circles, he’d always met his debts and was regarded as a good sportsman.
As he reached for another pile of papers, a separate report caught Webb’s eye and he pulled it towards him. It was the lab’s analysis of Hannah’s cassette and he read through it with interest. It seemed there was indeed subliminal information on the tape, the words love, trust, salvation being inserted at regular intervals, together with sounds of rushing water. More disturbingly, disjointed words such as Satan, danger and punishment also occurred, guaranteed to cause anxiety and the desire to conform. On the face of it, there seemed no reason not to incorporate them openly on the soundtrack, but Webb conceded grimly that there was method in it: messages received subliminally had more impact, became accepted as instincts and memories of one’s own.
Still, he’d need more than that before he could touch the Revvies, so there was no point in wasting any more time on them. Nor was he getting anywhere sitting around here. He needed to be out in the thick of the investigation, wherever that might be.
‘Ken?’
‘Yes, Guv?’ Jackson appeared at the door.
‘We’re going walkabout, in search of inspiration.’
Jackson grinned. ‘If you say so, Guv.’
Webb worked out his plan as they went down the stairs. ‘We’ll go back to the solicitor’s office and retrace the route Kershaw would have taken on his way to the King’s Head. Since he doesn’t appear to have made any phone-calls, perhaps he dropped in somewhere or bumped into someone
en route
. Let’s hope something will obligingly leap up and hit us in the eye.’
The October sun shone warmly, a true Indian summer. Women were still in cotton dresses and an ice-cream van, glad of the prolonged season, sounded its carillon as it passed them.
They walked briskly along Carrington Street and turned into Franklyn Road, one of Shillingham’s business centres. It also contained two pubs well known to the men of Carrington Street, the Brown Bear, favoured by CID, at the lower end, and the Red Lion halfway down. Jackson hoped their proximity would not escape the Governor, since the lunch hour was fast approaching.
Webb came to a halt outside the offices of Culpepper, Soames & Soames. ‘Right. No need to go in. Now, Kershaw came out here and, making for the King’s Head, would obviously turn to his right.’ The two men started walking again. ‘And here,’ Webb said, ‘we come to our first problem.’
He paused on the corner of a small road running from Franklyn Road to parallel Duke Street. ‘Now, Ken. If you were going to the King’s Head, would you turn down here or go on to the end and along King Street?’
Jackson shrugged. ‘It’s as broad as it’s long, Guv.’
‘Then we’ll do both,’ said Webb inexorably.
‘Mind you,’ Jackson added, seeing his pie and pint fade into the distance, ‘if he was a stranger round here — and he was, these days — I should think he’d carry straight on — it’s the more direct route.’
‘Right, then we’ll try that first. Now, keep your eyes peeled for anything that might have distracted him.’
‘Ten to one it was someone he met by chance in the street.’
‘Not many chance encounters lead to that kind of murder. A quick stab in the ribs or a knock over the head, maybe, but not an injection with a ready-prepared syringe.’