The Running Grave, page 59
‘You just have to study,’ he said dully.
Wondering whether he was being less opinionated because his eyes were bothering him, or for some deeper reason, she said,
‘So you’ve been here for four Manifestations of the Drowned Prophet?’
Will nodded, then said,
‘But I can’t talk about it. You’ve got to experience it, to really understand.’
‘I feel as though I got a kind of preview,’ said Robin, ‘during my Revelation session. Daiyu came to the temple. She made the stage tip up.’
‘Yeah, I heard about that,’ said Will.
‘I know I deserved it,’ said Robin, ‘so I suppose I should be glad it happened. It’s like you said to me on the vegetable patch, there’s no “in trouble”, is there? It’s all strengthening.’
For a moment or two Will was silent. Then he said,
‘Have you been in the library yet?’
‘I searched it for Mazu’s fish,’ said Robin. ‘I haven’t used it properly.’
Though beautifully appointed, with mahogany tables and brass reading lights, the library contained few books, and half of them had been written by Jonathan Wace. The rest of the stock comprised holy texts of all major religions. While Robin would have welcomed a quiet hour in the library, she doubted she’d be able to concentrate long on the Guru Granth Sahib or the Torah without falling asleep.
‘Have you read the Bible?’ asked Will.
‘Um… bits,’ said Robin cautiously.
‘I was reading it yesterday. John, chapter one, verse 4:1: “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world.”’
Robin glanced at him. She might be mistaken, given his reddened, puffy eyes, but she thought he looked worried.
‘Oh Lord, I’m going to need help,’ said a loud female voice. Robin and Will looked round. Noli Seymour had just entered the kitchen wearing a pristine white tracksuit, and was making a comical expression, hands pressed against her face. ‘I’m an awful cook!’ she said, looking round. ‘Some of you experts are going to have to help me!’
If Noli had imagined a stampede to assist her, or that the kitchen workers would be charmed by her admission of helplessness, she’d miscalculated. Tired and sweaty, none of them smiled, although Sita handed her an apron. Robin had a presentiment about what was about to happen, and sure enough, one of the older women pointed Noli to the pile of onions Robin and Will were tackling, doubtless thinking that this was where she could do least harm. Noli was enough of an actress to fake enthusiasm.
‘Great… um… have you got gloves?’
‘No,’ said the woman, returning to the large vat containing a gallon of tinned tomatoes bubbling on the stove.
‘Hi, I’m Noli,’ said the actress to Will and Robin. ‘Have you got—? Oh, thanks,’ she said, as Robin passed her a knife. ‘So what are your names?’
They told her.
‘Rowena, wow, that’s so funny, I played Rowena in Ivanhoe at drama school,’ said Noli, looking sideways at the way Robin was slicing her onion, and trying to copy her. ‘It was kind of a challenge, actually. I much prefer playing characters with substance, you know? And Rowena’s basically just, you know, beautiful and kind and noble,’ Noli rolled her eyes, ‘and I’m like, “Um, wouldn’t it be easier to use a mannequin or something?” Oh, God, I hope you aren’t named after Lady Rowena!’ Noli added, with a peal of laughter. ‘Were your parents fans, or something?’
Before Robin could answer, Will, whose streaming eyes were still fixed on the onion he was chopping, muttered:
‘Materialist possession.’
‘What?’ said Noli.
‘“Parents”,’ said Will, still not looking at Noli.
‘Oh – yeah, right,’ said Noli. ‘You know what I mean, though.’
‘No, I wasn’t named after Lady Rowena,’ said Robin.
‘I just get typecast, you know?’ said Noli, who was doing her best to touch the onion she was chopping as little as possible, holding it steady with her fingertips. ‘I’m constantly saying to my agent, “Just once, can you get me a character with character?” I’ve been feeling that so much more since joining the church,’ she added earnestly.
The threesome chopped in silence for a little while until Will, after wiping his irritated eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt again, glanced at Noli and said,
‘Are you really going to make a film about the Drowned Prophet?’
The actress looked up at him, startled.
‘How on earth did you know about that?’
‘Are you?’ said Will, his reddened eyes fixed on his work again.
‘Well, not just about – nothing’s definite. I’ve been talking to Papa J about maybe doing a film about him. How on earth did you know that?’ she added, with another little laugh.
‘I was the one serving you your potatoes when you were talking about it to Papa J,’ said Will. ‘In the farmhouse.’
The kitchen workers in their immediate vicinity were now listening to the conversation. Some had deliberately slowed down in their tasks, so as to make less noise.
‘Oh, of course you were, yes,’ said Noli, but Robin could tell Noli had no memory of Will at all. ‘Well, it’s just something I think could be really interesting. We could make sure a big cut of the profits go to the UHC, obviously. I think it would be an incredible way to bring awareness of the church to a wider audience. Of course, he doesn’t think anyone would watch a movie about him,’ she said, with a giggle. ‘That’s the funny thing about him, he doesn’t realise what he is, does he? He’s so modest, it’s one of the things I really admire about him, it makes a really nice change from the people I meet in my business, I can tell you.’
‘Would you be Daiyu, in the film?’ said Will.
‘No, of course not, I’m too old,’ said Noli. ‘I’d quite like to play his first wife, because he’s told me a bit about her, and she sounds like a – well, she was no Lady Rowena, put it that way.’
‘D’you think it’s strange,’ said Will, still dicing onions, ‘that Papa J married twice and nobody in the church is supposed to marry?’
‘What?’ said Noli. Her knife slipped off the onion she was mangling.
‘Will!’
One of the older women had spoken, her tone a definite warning. The kitchen workers around the onion choppers seemed to have come back to life: there was a resumption of the usual clanging and clattering as they moved away.
‘Of course it’s not strange,’ said Noli. ‘His first marriage was before he even – anyway, it’s a Higher-Level Truth, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’ said Will, still looking at the onion he was chopping.
‘Papa J and Mama Mazu, you can’t – it’s not the same. They’re, like, our parents – all of our parents.’
‘Materialist possession,’ muttered Will again.
‘Oh, come—’
‘Have you read the Bhagavad Gita?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Noli, clearly lying.
‘Lord Krishna talks about people of demonic nature. “Self-conceited, stubborn, intoxicated by pride in wealth, they perform sacrifice in name only, with ostentation.”’
‘Ohmigod, there are so many people in acting like that,’ said Noli. ‘The last show I did—’
But her voice was drowned out by another. Somebody outside the kitchen was screaming.
72
Nine in the third place…
The woman carries a child but does not bring it forth.
Misfortune.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
The kitchen door banged open to reveal Penny, whose once-green hair was now straggly and brown, and the front of whose sweatshirt was stained with what looked like blood.
‘It’s Lin,’ she wailed. ‘In the women’s bathroom. She’s – oh my God—’
Robin and Will were the first to move. Robin followed the younger man at a sprint, her apron slightly impeding the motion of her knees, and behind her she could hear some of the older women also running. They dashed down the pathway into the courtyard, but at the dormitory door, Will checked. Men weren’t supposed to enter the women’s dormitory. Robin pushed him aside, ran through the empty dormitory and through the bathroom door.
‘Oh Jesus,’ she said aloud.
There was a puddle of blood seeping from under one of the toilet cubicle doors. She could see Lin’s bloodstained legs, which weren’t moving.
‘Lin,’ Robin yelled, pounding on the locked door, but there was no answer. Robin dashed into the neighbouring cubicle, jumped up onto the toilet seat, seized hold of the top of the partition and pulled herself over it.
‘Shit,’ said Robin, landing and slipping in the blood surrounding the teenager, who sat slumped against the toilet.
She’d expected suicide, but saw at once that the blood, of which there seemed a terrifying amount, seemed to be issuing from Lin’s vagina. Her tracksuit bottoms were sodden and she was wheezing, while her neck, face and hands were covered in an angry red rash.
‘Lin,’ said Robin, ‘what’s happened?’
‘Leave m-m-me,’ whispered Lin. ‘J-j-just leave m-m-me.’
Robin heard footsteps outside the cubicle and hastily unlocked the door to reveal the worried faces of Penny and assorted female kitchen workers.
‘I’ll get Dr Zhou,’ said Sita, who disappeared.
‘N-no,’ gasped Lin. ‘N-n-not Zhou, n-not Zhou…’
‘You need a doctor, Lin,’ said Robin. ‘You’ve got to see a doctor.’
‘N-n-not him… I d-d-don’t want him… I’m fine… it’s fine…’
Robin reached for Lin’s hand, which was hot, and held it.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ she said.
‘N-n-no it won’t,’ said Lin faintly, now gasping for breath. ‘N-n-not if she g-g-gets Zhou… p-p-please…’
Robin could hear men talking outside the dormitory and a few minutes later, loudest of all, she heard Dr Zhou.
‘Get out of the way!’ he shouted as he entered the bathroom, and the women surrounding the cubicle scattered. Robin remained exactly where she was, and felt Lin’s fingers tighten on hers as Zhou appeared in the open doorway.
‘What the bloody hell have you done to yourself?’ he shouted, looking down at Lin, and Robin read panic in his face.
‘Nothing… nothing…’ wheezed Lin.
‘I think,’ said Robin, feeling terribly guilty about betraying Lin, but afraid of the consequences if she didn’t speak, ‘she might have eaten some plants.’
‘What plants?’ shouted Zhou, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
‘Lin, tell him,’ said Robin, ‘please tell him. Think of Qing,’ she whispered.
‘M-m-mug… wort,’ said Lin, now gasping for breath.
‘Get up,’ snarled Zhou.
‘Are you mad?’ said Robin, looking up at him. ‘She can’t stand!’
‘Get two of the men in here!’ Zhou bellowed at the women who’d retreated back into the dormitory.
‘What are you going to do?’ Robin demanded.
‘You, move!’ Zhou barked at Robin, who remained exactly where she was, still gripping Lin’s hand.
Now Will and Taio appeared at the cubicle door. Taio looked disgusted, Will, simply horrified.
‘Wrap a towel around her,’ said Zhou, ‘we don’t want mess everywhere. Then carry her to the farmhouse.’
‘N-n-no,’ said Lin, starting feebly to resist as Taio began to roughly bundle a bath towel around her.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Robin, batting Taio’s hand away.
Lin was hoisted to her feet, the towel wrapped around her, then carried away by Will and Taio.
‘Clean that mess up,’ were Zhou’s parting words to Robin, and as he left the bathroom, she heard him bark at somebody else, ‘You, go and help her.’
Robin’s tracksuit bottoms were soaked in the warm red liquid. She got slowly to her feet, her nostrils full of the ferrous smell of Lin’s blood, as Penny came creeping back into the bathroom, her eyes wide.
‘What happened to her?’ she whispered.
‘I think she tried to give herself a miscarriage,’ said Robin, who felt nauseated.
‘Oh,’ said Penny. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I just saw the blood under the door…’
The ramifications of what had just happened were hitting Robin. She wondered whether Lin was going to die, whether Zhou was competent to deal with the emergency. She also knew she’d reacted to the crisis as Robin Ellacott, not as Rowena Ellis, shouting at Zhou and ignoring his orders, pushing Taio away, siding with the girl who’d tried to abort her baby. Then there was her admission she knew Lin had eaten plants…
‘Dr Zhou told me to help you clean up,’ said Penny timidly.
‘It’s fine,’ said Robin, who very much wanted to be left alone. ‘I can do it.’
‘No,’ said Penny, who looked queasy but determined, ‘he told me to… you really yelled at him,’ she added nervously.
‘I was just shocked,’ said Robin.
‘I know… but he is the doctor.’
Robin said nothing, but went to get one of the stiff, rough towels the women used after showers, spread it over the blood and began to mop it up, all the while wondering how on earth she going to explain that she knew Lin had had those plants, without admitting she’d been in the woods where they grew, at night.
Imitating Robin, Penny too fetched a towel to soak up the blood. When most of it was mopped up, Robin dropped the stained towel into the laundry basket, went to get a fresh one and ran it under the cold water tap. As she did so, she glanced up at the high windows over the sinks again. Her heart hammered almost painfully as she imagined leaving immediately. She’d just heard the first indication that Will Edensor might be having doubts about the church, but she had no idea how to talk her way out of the trouble she’d now surely landed herself in. If only she could get rid of Penny, she might be able to climb out of one of those windows and drop down on the other side of the building, out of sight of the courtyard; then she could run for the woods while the higher-ups were distracted by Lin, raise the alarm and get an ambulance to the farm. That, surely, was the right thing to do. Her time was up.
She returned to the mess on the floor with her wet towel and began wiping up the last traces of blood.
‘Go to dinner,’ she told Penny. ‘I’ll finish up here, it’s nearly done.’
‘OK,’ said Penny, getting to her feet. ‘I hope you don’t get in trouble.’
‘Thanks,’ said Robin.
She waited until Penny’s footsteps had died away, then got up, threw the wet towel into the laundry basket too, and had taken two strides towards the sink when a white figure appeared in the doorway.
‘Papa J wants to see you,’ said Louise Pirbright.
73
We find ourselves close to the commander of darkness…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
‘I haven’t finished,’ said Robin stupidly, pointing at the floor, which was still faintly pink.
‘I’ll send someone else to do it,’ said Louise. She was holding her hands in front of her, nervously interlocking her swollen-jointed fingers. ‘You’d better come.’
It took a moment for Robin to make her trembling legs behave. She followed Louise out of the bathroom and through the deserted dormitory. For a brief moment, she contemplated breaking away, sprinting down the passage between the dormitories and climbing over the five-bar gate, but she had no confidence that she’d make the woods without being caught: there were too many people in the courtyard, some of them grouped around Daiyu’s pool to make the usual obeisance, others heading for the dining hall.
Louise and Robin, too, paused at the pool. When Robin said, ‘The Drowned Prophet will bless all who worship her,’ she felt her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. Having daubed her forehead with water, she followed Louise towards the dragon-carved doors of the farmhouse.
Inside, they passed the scarlet-carpeted staircase, then stopped at a shiny black door on the left-hand side of the hall. Louise knocked.
‘Come,’ said Jonathan Wace’s voice.
Louise opened the door, indicated that Robin should walk inside and then closed the door behind her.
The room Robin entered was large and very beautiful. Unlike Mazu’s study, there was no clutter here. The walls were covered in peacock blue fabric, against which figures of ivory and silver, most of them Chinese, stood in graceful, modern shelving cabinets, in pools of carefully directed light. A fire burned beneath a modern surround of white marble. In front of this, on a black leather couch, sat Jonathan Wace, alone, eating off a low black lacquer table that was laden with various dishes.
‘Aha,’ said Wace, smiling as he set down his knife and fork and got to his feet. ‘Rowena.’
He was wearing an upmarket version of the white tracksuits nearly everyone at the farm wore, which appeared to be made of raw silk. On his feet he wore very expensive-looking leather slides. Robin felt the colour leave her face as he walked towards her.
Wace pulled her into a hug. Robin could still feel herself shaking, and knew he could feel it too, because he was holding her so tightly her breasts were squashed against his chest. He smelled of sandalwood cologne and held her far too long for her comfort. She tried to relax, but every muscle was tense. At last Wace loosened his grip, though still holding her in his arms, so he could look down at her, smiling.
‘You’re quite wonderful, aren’t you?’
Robin didn’t know whether he was being sarcastic. He looked sincere. At last, he released her.
‘Come,’ he said again, and returned to the sofa, beckoning her to a black leather chair that sat at right angles to the fire.
‘I’ve heard how you helped deliver Mazu’s baby, Rowena,’ said Wace. ‘Thank you, very sincerely, for your service.’
Momentarily confused, Robin realised he was talking about Wan’s daughter.
‘Oh,’ she said. Her mouth was still so dry it was hard to get out the words. ‘Yes.’
