The Running Grave, page 54
‘Tidy yourself up,’ he told her. ‘There’ll be a clean tracksuit on your bed. The minibus leaves in half an hour.’
Robin had become used to casual mention of lengths of time that were impossible to measure for ordinary church members, and had learned it was safest to assume the instruction meant ‘do it as quickly as possible’. In consequence, she gulped down the rest of her porridge rather than trying, as she usually did, to make it last.
When she entered the dormitory she saw fresh tracksuits laid out on their beds, which were no longer scarlet but white. From this, Robin deduced that the church had now moved into the season of the Drowned Prophet. Then she spotted Emily, who was pulling off her red top.
‘Oh, you’re coming too, Emily?’ said Vivienne in surprise, when she entered the dormitory a couple of minutes after Robin. Emily threw Vivienne an unfriendly look as she turned away, tugging on a clean sweatshirt.
Robin deliberately left the dormitory alongside the silent Emily, hoping to sit beside her on the minibus, but they’d gone only a few yards when Robin heard a male voice calling, ‘Rowena!’
Robin turned and her spirits plummeted: Taio had returned to the farm. He, too, was wearing a clean white tracksuit, and appeared to have washed his hair for once.
‘Hello,’ Robin said, trying to look happy to see him, as Emily walked on, head down, arms folded.
‘I chose you to come out with the fundraising group today,’ Taio said, beckoning her to walk with him across the courtyard, ‘because I’ve been thinking about you while I was away, thinking you should be given a few more opportunities to demonstrate a change in thinking. I hear you donated to the church, incidentally. Very generous.’
‘No,’ said Robin, who wasn’t going to fall into the kind of trap the church elders regularly set for the unwary, ‘it wasn’t generous. You were right, I should have done it earlier.’
‘Good girl,’ said Taio, reaching out and massaging the back of her neck, causing gooseflesh to rise on Robin’s back and arms again. ‘On the other matter,’ he said in a lower voice, his hand still resting on her neck, ‘I’m going to wait for you to come to me, and ask for spirit bonding. That will show a real change of attitude, a real abandonment of egomotivity.’
‘OK,’ said Robin, unable to look at him. She saw Emily glance back at the pair of them, her face expressionless.
Boxes of UHC merchandise and collecting boxes bearing the UHC’s heart-shaped logo were already being loaded onto the minibus by Jiang and a couple of other men. When Robin got on the bus she found Emily already sitting beside Amandeep, so chose to sit next to Walter, with Emily directly across the aisle.
It was still very early and the sky overhead had a pearlescent glow. As the minibus drove down the drive and out through the electric gates, Robin felt a surge of elation: she was as excited about seeing the outside world again as she’d have been boarding a plane to a fabulous holiday. Emily’s right leg, she noticed, was jumping nervously up and down.
‘Right,’ said Taio, speaking from the front of the bus, which his brother Jiang was driving. ‘A word for those of you who haven’t yet fundraised for us. Some of you will be manning the stall selling merchandise, and the rest will be using the collecting boxes. Any interest in the church, give them a pamphlet. Today’s take will be divided between our young people’s drop-in centre in Norwich and our climate change awareness programme. We’ve got posters, but be ready to answer questions.
‘Remember, every single contact with a BP is an opportunity to save a soul, so I want to see lots of positivity. All interactions with the public are a chance to show how passionate we are about our mission to change the world.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Walter loudly; he was far thinner than he’d been on joining the church and his skin now had a slightly grey tinge. He seemed neither as confident nor as talkative as he’d been on arrival at Chapman Farm, and his hands had a slight tremor.
Almost an hour after it had left the farm, the minibus passed over the River Wensum and entered the city of Norwich. Robin, who’d only ever seen the city while travelling to Chapman Farm, noticed more flint-covered walls and many church spires on the horizon. The colourful shopfronts, billboards and restaurants brought a double sense of familiarity and strangeness. How odd, to see people in normal clothing going about their business, all in possession of their own money, their own phones, their own door keys.
Now, for the first time, Robin truly appreciated the bravery it must have taken for Kevin Pirbright, who’d lived at the farm since the age of three, to break free and walk out into what must have seemed to him a strange and overwhelming world of which he didn’t know the rules, with hardly any money, no job, and only the tracksuit he was wearing. How had he managed to get himself a rented room, small and shabby though it had been? How challenging had it been to find out how to claim benefits, to get himself a laptop, to set about writing his book? Glancing at Emily, Robin saw the woman transfixed by all she was seeing through the window, and wondered when was the last time Emily had been permitted to set foot outside one of the UHC centres.
Once Jiang had parked the minibus, the merchandise was unloaded and three of the younger men shouldered the heavy components of the stall they were about to set up. The rest, including Robin, carried the boxes of plush turtles, corn dollies, posters and pamphlets. Taio carried nothing, but walked ahead, occasionally exhorting the rest of the struggling group to keep up, the metal poles of the stall clanking in an army kit bag.
Once they’d reached the junction of three pedestrianised streets, which would be a busy thoroughfare once the surrounding shops opened, the experienced younger men set up the stall in surprisingly quick time. Robin helped set out the merchandise and pin glossy posters of UHC projects to the front of the stall.
She’d hoped to be given a collecting box, because that would give her most freedom; she might even be able to slip into a shop and check a newspaper. However, Taio told her to man the stall with Vivienne. He then informed those departing to collect money so that members ‘averaged’ a hundred pounds a day. While he didn’t say so explicitly, Robin could tell that the collectors got the message that they shouldn’t come back without that amount, and she watched in frustration as Emily and Jiang, who’d been put in a pair together, walked out of sight.
Once the surrounding shops had opened, the numbers of people passing the stall increased steadily. Taio hung around for the first hour, watching Robin and Vivienne interact with customers and critiquing them between sales. The cuddly turtles, which were popular with children, were the biggest draw. Taio told Robin and Vivienne that if people decided not to buy a turtle or a corn dolly, they should still be offered the collecting box for a donation to the church’s projects, a strategy that was surprisingly effective: most of those they asked donated a few coins or even a note to escape the awkwardness of not having bought anything.
At last, to Robin’s relief, Taio left to check how those with collecting boxes were getting on. As soon as he was out of earshot, Vivienne turned to Robin and said, in her usual would-be working-class voice that lapsed when she forgot herself,
‘I can’t believe ’e let Emily come.’
‘Why?’ asked Robin.
‘Don’t you know abou’ what happened in Birmingham?’
‘No, what?’
Vivienne glanced around, then said in a lower voice,
‘She got into a CR with a guy up there.’
This, Robin knew, meant a relationship anybody outside the church would consider unexceptional: a monogamous partnership beginning in mutual sexual attraction, which the UHC considered an unhealthy extension of the possession instinct.
‘Oh, wow,’ said Robin. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not all,’ said Vivienne. ‘She told the guy a ton of lies that made ’im question his faith, and he ended up talking to a church elder about it, which is why she got relocated to Chapman Farm.’
‘Wow,’ said Robin again. ‘What kind of lies?’
Again, Vivienne glanced around before speaking.
‘OK, don’t spread this around, but you know ’ow she and Becca knew the Drowned Prophet?’
‘Yes, I’ve heard that,’ said Robin.
‘Well, it was stuff about Daiyu, apparently. Just utter shit.’
‘What did she tell him?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Vivienne, ‘but it was so bad, this guy nearly left the church.’
‘How d’you know all this?’ asked Robin, careful to sound admiring of Vivienne’s superior knowledge.
‘I got talking to one of the other girls who got relocated. She told me Emily and this guy were, like, sneaking off together and refusing spirit bonding with anyone else. It was pure materialism. The girl thinks Emily was actually trying to make him go DV with her.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Robin.
‘I know,’ said Vivienne. ‘Apparently, they had to drag her onto the minibus. She was shouting “I love you” at the guy.’ Vivienne’s expression was disgusted. ‘Can you imagine? But thank God he just walked away.’
‘Yeah,’ said Robin. ‘Thank God.’
Vivienne turned away to serve a mother whose small child had dragged her over to look at the plush turtles. When they’d departed, the little boy clutching his new turtle, Vivienne turned back to Robin.
‘You know Papa J’s been in LA?’ Her voice softened as she said ‘Papa J’; clearly, Robin’s companion was now as thoroughly smitten with the church’s founder as most of the women at Chapman Farm, and indeed some of the men. ‘Well, he’s coming back next week.’
‘Really?’ said Robin.
‘Yeah. He always comes back for the Manifestation of the Drowned Prophet… Have you spirit bonded with him?’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘Have you?’
‘No,’ sighed Vivienne, her longing quite evident.
Taio came back several times over the next couple of hours to check how much money was in the strongbox underneath the table. On one of these occasions, he arrived chewing, and brushed flakes of what looked like pastry from around his mouth. He neither suggested that the other two eat anything, nor brought them any food.
Hours passed, and Robin started to feel light-headed by what she knew, from the position of the sun, must be mid-afternoon. Inured though she was to hunger and tiredness at the farm, it was a new challenge to stand on one spot for so long, having to smile, make cheerful conversation and proselytise for the church while the sun beat down on you, and without even the usual meal of sloppy noodles and overcooked vegetables to sustain her.
‘Robin!’
‘Yes?’
She turned automatically towards the person who’d spoken her name, and one second of icy horror later, realised what she’d done. A little boy who was holding a plush, red-breasted bird in one hand, and introducing it to the turtle his father had just bought him. Vivienne was looking at Robin strangely.
‘It’s my nickname,’ Robin told Vivienne, forcing a laugh, as the father and son walked away. ‘It’s what my sis—I mean, one of my flesh objects calls me, sometimes.’
‘Oh,’ said Vivienne. ‘Why’s she call you Robin?’
‘She had a book about Robin Hood,’ Robin invented wildly. ‘It was her favourite, before I was born. She wanted my parents to call me Rob—’
She broke off. Taio was running down the street towards them, red-faced and sweaty: heads turned as he galumphed past shoppers in his white tracksuit, his face both angry and panicked.
‘Problem,’ he panted, on arriving at the stall. ‘Emily’s gone.’
‘What?’ gasped Vivienne.
‘Fucking Jiang,’ said Taio. ‘Give me the strongbox and pack up the merchandise. We’ve got to find her.’
66
DECREASE combined with sincerity…
It furthers one to undertake something.
How is this to be carried out?
One may use two small bowls for the sacrifice.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
When Taio had run off clutching the strongbox, Robin and Vivienne stripped the stall, leaving the metal frame standing.
‘Just leave all that,’ said Vivienne in panic, as Robin stuffed the last of the turtles and corn dollies back into their boxes. ‘Oh my God. What if she’s gone DV?’
The collecting box rattled in Robin’s hands as she and Vivienne set off at a jog up Castle Street. Robin wondered at Vivienne’s total, unquestioning acceptance of the fact that a grown woman choosing to break away from the group was dangerous. Did nothing about Vivienne’s own panic make her ask why such strict control was necessary? Apparently not: Vivienne was darting into every shop they passed, as alarmed as a mother might be on finding out her toddler had gone missing. In their matching white tracksuits, with the noisy collecting box clutched to Robin’s chest, the pair drew more startled looks from passers-by.
‘Is that her?’ gasped Vivienne.
Robin saw the flash of white Vivienne had spotted, but it turned out to be a shaven-headed youth in an England football strip.
‘Wait,’ panted Robin, jogging to a halt. ‘Vivienne, wait! We should split up, we’ll cover more ground. You check down there –’ Robin pointed at Davey Place ‘– and I’ll keep going this way. We’ll meet back at the stall if we haven’t found her in an hour, OK?’
‘How will we know—?’
‘Just ask someone the time!’
‘All right,’ said Vivienne, although she looked scared at being left on her own, ‘I suppose that makes sense.’
Fearing that Vivienne might change her mind if given time to think about it, Robin set off at a run again and, glancing over her shoulder, was relieved to see Vivienne disappear into Davey Place.
Robin immediately turned left up a side road, emerging onto a wide street, which ran past a huge grassy mound on top of which stood Norwich Castle, an enormous and imposing crenellated cube of stone.
Robin leaned back against the wall of a shop to catch her breath. Aftershocks at having been so foolish as to respond to her real name were still ricocheting through her. Had her explanation been good enough? Might Vivienne forget the lapse, in the shock of hearing that Emily had disappeared? Looking up at the imposing façade of the castle, she heard Strike’s voice in her head:
You’re compromised. You’ve put your real identity within grasping distance of anyone who gets suspicious of you. Get out now. One more mistake and you’re toast.
And that, Robin thought guiltily, was without Strike knowing that Lin had caught her with the torch in the woods. She could just imagine what he’d say to that, too.
Just because she hasn’t talked yet doesn’t mean she won’t. All it needs is a few people to share their suspicions.
Robin imagined going to a telephone box now, just as Niamh Doherty’s father had done so many years ago, and making a reverse charge call to the office to tell Pat she needed to come out. The thought of hearing Pat’s gruff voice, of knowing she’d never have to return to Chapman Farm, of being safe forever against the threat of Taio and spirit bonding, was incredibly tempting.
But against all of that was the job still undone. She’d discovered nothing sufficiently damaging about the church to force a meeting between Will Edensor and his family. While she had a few titbits that might be compromising, such as Giles Harmon’s liaison with the possibly underage Lin, Robin doubted her word would stand up against the might of the UHC’s lawyers, especially as Lin, born and raised in the UHC, was highly unlikely to give evidence against a Principal of the church.
I’ve got to stay, she told the Strike in her head, and I know you would, too, if you were me.
Robin closed her eyes for a moment or two, exhausted and hungry, and among the disconnected thoughts sliding through her mind was, and there’s Ryan.
Ryan, whom she thought about far less than Strike these days… but that, surely, was because she was so focused on the job… it was natural, inevitable…
Robin took a deep breath and set off again, scanning the street for Emily, though she was certain the woman was long gone. She might have hitched a lift, or made a reverse charge call of her own to some relative who might be able to come and collect her. With luck, though, the agency would be able to trace Emily on the outside…
‘What?’ Robin exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt, her eyes on a folded copy of The Times in a rack at the entrance to a newsagents. Evidently, Britain had voted to leave the EU.
She’d just lifted the paper out of the rack to read the story, when she saw a white-clad figure in the distance. Jiang was approaching from the opposite direction, his expression furious. Robin stuffed the paper hastily back into its slot, wheeled around and hurried back the way she’d come: she didn’t think Jiang had spotted her, and had no desire to meet him. Having hurried down a narrow, pedestrianised side street, she entered a covered arcade she hadn’t previously seen. Glancing behind her, she saw Jiang pass in front of the castle and disappear from view.
The arcade in which Robin now stood was old and rather beautiful, with a high vaulted glass ceiling, Art Nouveau tiles above the shopfronts and pendant lights like giant harebells. Desperate for further tidings of the outside world, Robin walked on, looking for a newsagents until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a patch of white.
Through a gap between the colourful puppets displayed in a toy shop’s window she saw the bald Emily gazing blankly at shelves of toys as though hypnotised, her collecting box cradled to her chest.
After one astonished moment, Robin doubled back to enter the shop. Moving quietly in her trainers, she rounded the end of a row of shelves.
‘Emily?’
Emily jumped and stared at Robin as though she’d never seen her before.
‘Um… people are looking for you. Are you… what are you doing?’
The resentment bordering on occasional anger that Emily displayed at Chapman Farm had gone. She was chalk white and shaking.
‘It’s OK,’ said Robin, speaking as she might have spoken to somebody disorientated who’d just suffered a physical accident.
