‘Blackmailed? What do you mean?’
‘What I say. A thousand pounds says that Aaron’s still in touch with Lucy and Penelope, if only indirectly. They are high-profile people with families and business partners who know nothing about their pasts, and they’re keen to keep it that way.’
‘But how would he …?’
‘Oh, he runs a charitable fund so people can contribute to his “great work”,’ I could almost hear the air quotes her hands were making, ‘The Society for Spiritual Enrichment. One of his little toadies was around here a few years ago, suggesting that I start chipping in if I knew what was good for me, and I sent him away with a flea in his ear. After all, what would our Magus have done? Told people I was in his spiritual sex cult?’ Again that dark chuckle. ‘Sophia, I tell people that every single day. For God’s sake, it’s printed in the introduction to our cult outreach services.’ She paused. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I would never name and shame the others, but I’ve never hidden my personal involvement.’
‘You think he blackmails the others? Really?’ I tried to imagine the terrifying Penelope Longman, QC, tolerating such a thing, and failed.
‘Oh yes. It’s easy to overstate how much Aaron made as a musician as there was never another successful record. If you’d had to sit through any of his dreary solo projects, you’d understand why.
‘I do know, with my cult outreach hat on, that he strips the assets from the current members as well – but even so, he’s a man with expensive tastes, no conscience and a long memory.’ She sighed. ‘Oh yes, he’s blackmailing the old guard. I’m sure of it. And I don’t know if you know this, but a lot of what went on was on film.’
Of course it was on film. And, as Wolf had observed to my mum at the time, that would have huge consequences.
‘Yes. I read that. In fact, I was wondering about what happened to Wolf,’ I said. ‘Max hasn’t been able to find him. Do you know where he is?’
She sucked her teeth contemptuously. ‘No, and I’ve no interest in finding out. He was like Peter, another leech. He was our “cameraman”. I can’t even remember, to this day, how Aaron got us to agree to it.’ That chuckle again, only gentler. ‘But we did. We always did.’
I was astounded by her attitude. ‘How can you be so calm about all this? What these people did to you …’
‘Do I seem calm to you?’ She seemed genuinely surprised. ‘Hmm. I suppose I must. But if I am, it’s because I’ve spent decades trying to make sense of my hurt and anger. I had so much anger, Sophia. After Morningstar I went to some very dark places.’ I had a sense she was fading out, gazing backwards into some well of unpleasant memory. ‘Sometimes you have to live through the darkest hour before dawn. I gained things from it, though. I found my purpose. I found God.’
‘Is this your purpose, then? What you do with the cult outreach?’
‘Yes.’ She was animated again now, talking about her work. ‘We run something called the Free Minds Shelter.’
‘And you help people escape from cults?’
She sighed, as though considering. ‘ “Cult” is such a loaded word – not every non-mainstream religious movement is a cult in the way you and I would describe it. Generally, though, when we counsel people here, we say “cult” when we mean something dangerous and “NRM” – New Religious Movement – when we don’t.
‘We each have specialties; particular movements that we know well and keep tabs on. Ebele is all about Christian and charismatic cults – this is a huge problem in London so she’s always busy. Mine is self-counselling and lifestyle, Eastern mysticism – there are lots of cults building up around mindfulness lately. Alex deals in pressure selling and commercial outfits – get-rich-quick schemes, pyramid selling, etc. He’s a lawyer so he can give advice to people.’
‘Pyramid selling? That’s classed as a cult?’
‘Oh, you bet it is.’ She was clearly absorbed by the subject. ‘It’s an epidemic.’
‘I’d never thought about it that way,’ I said, pondering. ‘I thought a cult was … religious in some way.’
‘Oh no, no, you don’t need to be remotely spiritual to be taken in. All you need to be is manipulated into a position where you surrender your control. And if that’s your definition, we all brush up against cult behaviour all the time. Have you ever had a job where the company culture was to work around the clock, even though you were never offered overtime? Had a boss that used to give presentations exhorting you to do more, constantly offering a programme of non-optional events you feel you have to attend to fit in? Ever felt guilty about leaving before eight, nine or ten o’clock at night? Or later?’
Had I ever. She was talking about Amity. ‘I … yes. Yes, I definitely know about that.’
‘Precisely. And if you think about abusive relationships, exactly the same is true. Have you ever had a conversation with someone you know is in a bad place in their relationship and you ask them why they don’t leave, and they tell you that you don’t understand, their partner is actually very thoughtful and kind sometimes? And they love them?’
I was silent, thinking.
‘And yet,’ she continued, warming to her theme, ‘you see that the abusive person cuts their victim off from friends and family, constantly belittles them in public, and seems intent on destroying their independence. And you think, how can they stay in that relationship? And you also think, why do they stay in that relationship? You may even get quite angry at them and blame them, wonder if they’re stupid, or maybe even mentally ill.’
‘I …’
‘You see, Sophia, it’s not about logic. The mechanism is the thing – not faith, or politics, or love, or work, or money, or self-improvement. Those things are all incidental. Once you internalize somebody else’s will as your own, the mechanism works exactly like a trap – easy to get in, very hard to get out.’
I sighed. I realized I was just going to have to admit it. ‘I’m having trouble with this. I don’t understand how someone could get mixed up in something like this, like my mum did.’
Like you did.
Again, that cracked laughter. ‘It seems very odd, yeah? What people don’t tell you is that when you join, it’s the loveliest, fluffiest thing in the world. Everyone’s so happy. Everyone’s your friend. You have so much in common with them. You feel as though you’ve found your real family. And once it changes, well, it’s too late to leave. You’ve bought in; lock, stock and barrel.’
I yawned, rubbing my bleary eyes with my free hand. I was so tired, and yet I didn’t want this conversation to end. It felt good to talk to someone who understood. ‘All of this must have been such a burden to my mum. She never even told my dad she was in this thing.’
‘Oh, Sophia, I know it’s hard to understand. Really, I do. Please don’t feel bad about it. But also, please don’t feel that something was intrinsically wrong with Nina.’
‘I guess.’ I sat for a minute, deep in thought. I was beyond exhausted now. There would be a chance to talk to Tess again, I realized, and it was late. I should let her go to bed.
‘I just have one more question,’ I said. ‘Well, the main question, really. What do you think happened to Peter Clay in the end? My mum seemed to think he was murdered.’
It was a stupid question, insensitively put. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would never have asked. And, of course, it seemed impossible that this lovely woman, this pastor who was reaching out to me, would have had anything to do with that.
Didn’t it?
The change in atmosphere, even through the phone, was palpable.
Tess fell silent for a long moment. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said, but her voice was suddenly clipped, as though she didn’t want to talk about this. ‘I woke up to Lucy telling me to pack my bags the next morning.’ She snorted. ‘I never saw Aaron or Peter again. In person, at least.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘it’s very late and I’m keeping you up – is it OK if we talk again at some point? I think Rowan and Kayleigh will stage
an intervention if I try to go in to work tomorrow, so I’ll be available here if you are.’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, and the warmth was back again in her voice. ‘You’ll have many more questions, I know. Call me anytime you need to talk. I mean anytime, Sophia. All right?’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Goodnight, Tess. And thanks.’
‘Sleep well.’ She was gone and I was alone, on Brigit’s pink bed.
I had really liked Tess.
I had liked how she’d spun the straw of her exploited, miserable Morningstar experience into a new gold of helping people. I had liked how she had tossed away her girlish trappings and transformed into somebody quite kickass.
But I had also read the notebooks, in which my mum had implied it was Tess who discovered Peter’s body – ‘He’s dead, he’s dead! Someone’s killed him!’ – and I was convinced I had caught Tess in the middle of an outright lie.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I woke up again with full daylight streaming in through the windows, and a small person crawling over my back with deliberate movements, as though they’d dropped a tenner around here somewhere and were looking for it.
‘Sophia!’ said a little voice with great urgency, right next to my head.
I did not move, nor speak.
‘Sophia!’
I kept my eyes tightly shut.
‘SOPHIA! ARE YOU AWAKE YET?’
‘Good morning, Riley,’ I grunted. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing.’ This was clearly untrue, as he was clambering up to the top of the bed, his small feet and hands leaving little bruises on my back and arm as he reached the pillow. It was impossible to resent this though – Riley is just too bloody adorable.
‘Why are you in Brigit’s bed again?’ He parked his nappy-clad backside on the pillow next to my head with a little squeak of plastic and cloth. It smelled as though it could do with a change.
‘Because I climbed in the window first thing this morning and ate your sister all up.’
His vast blue eyes narrowed at me. ‘You didn’t eat Brigit. She’s downstairs with Mummy.’
‘Oh well, then I’ll just have to eat you instead!’
I made a grab for one of his chubby little feet and made to put it in my mouth while he shrieked gaily – this was one of his favourite games. I blew raspberries against the pink, soft sole, which made him dissolve into fits of laughter.
‘Sophia?’ called Kayleigh. ‘Are you all right up there? Is he bothering you?’
‘Not at all!’ I shouted down.
‘Send him down when you like, his breakfast’s here.’
‘All right!’ I turned to my small struggling victim, who chuckled happily. ‘Go on, go down and get your breakfast, Riley. I need to get ready.’
As he toddled off, I reached over and wearily switched my phone off mute. There was a kind of slimy wetness in one corner, and I wondered whether Riley had put the tempting candy-pink cover in his mouth at one point.
There was a message from Tess: ‘Call me any time you need me. I’m serious. Tx’
I also had two new voicemails – one from Max, saying he was sorry he’d been unavailable all day, but he hoped that Tess had been in touch, and some mobile number I vaguely recognized, until I realized it was the one Tess had just messaged me on.
She’d tried to call me again at 7:38 this morning.
I hit the voicemail icon.
‘Sophia? It’s me, Tess.’ Her voice was high, nervous, nothing like I remembered her being last night. Something had rattled her. ‘Sophia, I started poking around last night and I think I’ve found Wolf. We need to talk in person, as soon as possible. Can you call me back?’
She paused, and in the background there was the crank and roar and whoosh of London; it almost made me homesick. In her sigh, I sensed her disappointment and frustration at my not answering my phone in person.
‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘God bless.’
I stared at the phone. What the hell?
The message was finished, and my phone was asking me if I wanted to call the number back – of course I did.
It rang and rang and rang. I wanted to leave a message, but there was no voicemail.
Tess had found Wolf.
She hadn’t sounded particularly happy about it. She’d also told me to be careful.
I felt cold again, and frightened.
And I had that feeling again, like I’d had in the car as I’d been drifting off last night – that sense that I was missing something very obvious, very plain. I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
* * *
Olympia at Amity was strangely upbeat when I called. Yes, of course she’d let everyone know that I was working from home today. How wonderful that my father was feeling better, what a huge relief! Naturally I wouldn’t be in the office. They’d see me when they saw me. I must take care.
When I hung up, I felt more confused than I had in weeks. Was this it, finally, the soft-shoe shuffle as they moved to get rid of me, sugar-coated in politeness to avoid even the seeming of wrongdoing as they moved my case through the belly of HR?
Benjamin was a senior architect, after all. One of James’s inner circle. I, on the other hand, was eminently dispensable.
I wandered back into the genially messy kitchen, where the kids were engaged with half-full bowls of cornflakes. Brigit grinned brightly at me, one of her front teeth missing. It had fallen out two days earlier, and I understood the Tooth Fairy had been particularly generous.
‘How did it go?’ asked Kayleigh. She was scrambling eggs they’d collected this morning from the hens out back, and that and the wholesome scent of toasting bread and melting butter was making my mouth water. ‘Were they all right with you?’
‘They were. Suspiciously so, if I’m honest.’
‘How d’you mean?’ Kayleigh snapped the kettle on and came over to the table, wiping her hands with a checked tea towel. Behind her, Riley was running in small circles with his arms out, still clad only in his underwear, and she reached and stilled him by gently resting her hand on his head, impeding his momentum.
I sighed and shrugged. ‘Oh, I dunno. They’re normally bears with sore heads when I talk to them about the situation here, and today they were super-nice.’
Kayleigh looked at Riley over the shoulder of her dressing gown. ‘It can’t be helped, Sophia. So much has happened. You need a break. You scared Rowan last night.’
‘I know, I’m so sorry.’
‘No, no, he’s fine. But we’re both worried about you. Promise us that today at least you’ll have a proper day off.’
I opened my mouth to insist that no, I couldn’t, but there was something in her pale, honest face that made me think twice. Hell, she’s always so nice to me, despite the fact that I nearly killed her husband last night.
They might even be on to something. Maybe I was overdoing it.
‘I can’t promise to do no work,’ I said. ‘But I’ll mostly be staying around here today, though I’ll probably go to the hospital a bit later.’
Kayleigh winced. ‘I suppose that will have to do. Thank God it’s the weekend tomorrow. Have they said when Jared’s coming home?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Hopefully soon. And that’s another thing. The house will have to be made ready – it’ll need cleaning. I was wondering if you knew anyone in the village who needs the work?’
‘Sure. I’ll ask around. Actually, Sophia, I meant to ask, did you ever find the … you know, what you were looking for?’ She lifted her hands and discreetly mimed pulling a trigger.
It took me a second to work out that she meant the missing shotgun.
‘The what? Oh, oh, no. No I haven’t. I found the cabinet, but it was empty.’
‘Mummy,’ said Brigit suddenly, ‘Did you tell Sophia about Daddy’s note?’
‘No, I …’
Brigit seized her chance to be a partaker in adult affairs, a bearer of tales, a mover and shaker.
‘
Sophia! Daddy left a note for you on your laptop! He said it was important and we had to remember to tell you in case you didn’t see it.’
‘Did he? Where?’
‘Brigit, let Sophia have some breakfast first …’
But Brigit was on a roll. She dropped her spoon into her bowl with a noisy clatter, splashing milk over her brother, and pointed to where my laptop lay on the counter near the microwave, charging.
‘It’s there, it’s there, look!’
‘I won’t tell you again, eat your breakfast, missy,’ said Kayleigh. She jerked a thumb at the laptop. ‘This is how you access the CCTV Rowan set up for you …’
Of course. I was on my feet, and saw on the cover of the laptop a single yellow Post-it note in his untidy print:
https://www.goldstarsurveillance.co.uk/securecloud/3D82A84B
Username: [email protected]
Password: j3h9ddgf1
‘Ah!’ I said, twitching the note off the cover and carrying it to my seat. ‘Brilliant!’
Then Kayleigh dropped a plate of scrambled eggs on toast in front of me, and I forgot all about the CCTV, at least for a little while.
* * *
The website had been a little confusing, but eventually I managed to log in, after which I found six squares on my personal page, each sporting a small whirling icon.
I waited for a few minutes, fresh coffee cooling at my elbow, and was about to give up when a dialogue box opened: ‘If this is your first time logging in to your account, there may be a 5- to 10-minute delay establishing a connection to your feed. Please be patient!’
I sighed. I was not in a patient mood, but I doubted there was any way to communicate this to my laptop, short of smacking it with a hammer.
Kayleigh had set off with the kids at ten. They were all going swimming together at Beccles Lido, then stopping for a McDonald’s, taking advantage of the summer sunshine for the day. My dad was in assessment appointments until one, when I would go over and see him.
Everything Is Lies Page 23