A Crown of Lights

by Phil Rickman

  ‘There you have it, then,’ Sophie interrupted. ‘Your next port of call must surely be the, ah, Goshawk Talon.’

  ‘Does that mean it’s in a place called Goshawk?’ Jane wondered.

  ‘Doesn’t matter, let’s just put it in,’ Eirion said.

  ‘ “Found”. Some stuff on birds of prey. And... “The Goshawk Talon and Marshall McAllman”... OK.’ Eirion clicked, waited. ‘Oh.’

  The file you are seeking is unavailable.

  Jane’s face fell. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘A technical brick wall.’ Sophie sighed. ‘Hard to imagine how we survived for so long without all this.’ Then she did something most un-Sophie-like – stamped her foot. ‘Phone them, child! They presumably have telephones in Goshawk, Tennessee. If this publication still exists, it shouldn’t take long to find the number. If it doesn’t, we shall have to think of something else. Get on to international directory enquiries.’

  ‘I don’t know how.’

  Sophie sighed in mild contempt. ‘Leave it to me.’ She stalked out.

  ‘Wow,’ Jane said. ‘The turbo twinset.’

  Eirion smiled his Eirion smile. It did things to her, but this was not the time. There never seemed to be a time. The sudden urgency manifested by Sophie made Jane quite tense. What if someone was ringing home with information far more important than anything they could hope to find on the Net, and she wasn’t there to relay it. Paranoid, she rang the vicarage answering machine. One message for Mum to call Uncle Ted. Sod that.

  ‘We seem to be drifting a long way from Kali Three,’ Eirion said. He started to key it in.

  ‘No, don’t.’ Jane leapt up and stood at the window, staring down at the woodpile below. There was a sense of being very close to something, but it was too indistinct, ghostly. She felt that invoking Kali Three would somehow bring bad luck. She turned back to the room.

  ‘We have to go there.’

  ‘Old Hindwell?’ Eirion said. ‘I’m not sure about that. Why?’

  ‘We just do.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Sophie was in the doorway.

  ‘Sophie, there’s some really heavy—’

  ‘Don’t you think your mother has enough to worry about? Sit down and speak to the man from the paper. Or would you prefer me to do it? Perhaps it might be better if I did.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Eirion said. ‘She’s going to sound so much more authoritative than either of us. Especially to Joe-Bob McCabe, of the Goshawk Talon.’

  ‘Ah sure lerve your accent, ma’am,’ said Jane. The only person from Tennessee she’d ever heard talk was Elvis.

  ‘The man’s name,’ said Sophie, ‘is Eliot Williams. He’s busy at the moment, but his editor’s getting him to call me back. I think he rather senses a story.’

  ‘Wow,’ Jane said, ‘you’re, like, incredible.’

  But Sophie had already returned to her office, where the phone was ringing.

  46

  Nine Points

  A DARK, VICTORIAN living room. Merrily imprisoned in the lap of a huge, high-sided leather armchair, coat folded on her knees, cup and saucer on top of that.

  Judith Prosser was adept at disadvantaging her visitors.

  ‘And since when is religion a matter for the police, Mrs Watkins?’

  ‘When it’s sexual assault.’ Merrily drank some of the coffee. Perversely, it was good coffee.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ Judith’s own chair put her about a foot higher than Merrily. ‘I’ve been enquiring about you, and do you know what I think? I think that Father Ellis has dared to intrude into what you consider to be your back yard. He is doing what you think only you should be doing.’

  ‘You think I’d do—?’

  ‘How would I know what namby-pamby thing you would do these days, when the Church is like a branch of the social services?’ A withering contempt for both.

  ‘Now we’re getting to it,’ Merrily said.

  ‘Are we, Mrs Watkins?’

  Merrily tried to sit up in the chair. She felt like a child. Around the walls were dozens of photographs, mostly of men wearing chains of office, although a group of more recent ones showed boys with motorbikes and trophies.

  ‘What are “we” getting to?’ Judith leaned back, arms folded.

  ‘The question of Old Hindwell preferring to do its own thing. Which is kind of admirable in one sense, I suppose.’

  Judith reared up. ‘It is entirely admirable, my girl. This is an independent part of the world. What do we need with the mandarins in Cardiff and London and Canterbury? The English. Even the Welshies... they all think they can come out yere and do what they like. When Councillor Prosser was on the old Radnor District Council, they used to have to employ young officials, trotting out their fancy ideas – hippies and vegetarians, half of them. It was, “Oh, you can’t build there... you have to use this colour of slate on your roofs... you can’t do this, you can’t do that.” Well, they were put in their place soon enough. The local people, it is, who decides. We know what’s needed, we know what works. And Father Ellis, even though he’s not from yere, is a man with old values and a clear, straightforward, practical approach, based on tradition. He understands tradition.’

  Merrily was tired of this. ‘How many people has he exorcized so far?’

  ‘I can tell you that all of them have come freely to him and asked for it to be done.’

  ‘Like your son?’

  A pause. ‘Gomer Parry again, I suppose.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter where it came from. I just wondered if your son actually went along to Ellis and asked to be cleansed of the taking-and-driving-away demon.’

  ‘His parents took him.’ Judith scowled. ‘Another problem in today’s world is that parents don’t take responsibility. We took him to Father Ellis, Councillor Prosser and I. It was our duty.’

  ‘And you really think he had a demon inside him that demanded the full casting-out bit?’

  ‘Oh... Mrs... Watkins...’ Exasperated, Judith stood and went to lean an arm on the high mantelpiece. ‘They all have demons in them, whether it’s mischievous imps or worse. In the old days, the demons were beaten out of them at school. Now, if a teacher raises a hand to a child, he’s in court for assault, and nothing the poor magistrate can do to help him.’

  ‘I see.’ There was an awful logic to this: exorcism as a tool of public order. Evidently the local women had decided that the wanton demon in Marianne Starkey – which perhaps made some local men a little restless, a touch frisky – should be eradicated before it led to trouble. Marianne’s reaction to the male witch adding a piquantly topical flavour to the exercise.

  ‘Menna,’ Merrily said. ‘What about Menna?’

  Judith brought her arm slowly down to her side, stiffening ever so slightly.

  ‘Judith, did Menna herself go to Father Ellis and beg for exorcism, to get rid of the molesting spirit of Mervyn Thomas?’

  Judith was silent.

  ‘Or was it J.W.’s idea? In his role as husband. And father figure.’

  Judith said, eyes unmoving, ‘How do you know she was cleansed?’

  ‘Wasn’t she?’

  ‘Is that any business of yours or mine?’ First sign of a significant loss of cool. ‘What would I know about the private affairs of Mr and Mrs J.W. Weal? Was I supposed to be her guardian and her keeper all her life?’

  ‘You were obviously still concerned about her. You went to visit her regularly. You were still, by all accounts, her only real friend. You were the best person to realize she was... still a victim.’

  ‘He loved her!’

  ‘He suffocated her, Mrs Prosser. When she was in hospital, he tended her, he washed her, hardly let the nurses near her. I saw him with a bowl of water, as if he was baptizing her all over again. As if he was somehow confirming and reinforcing what Father Ellis had done.’

  ‘You see everything, don’t you?’

  ‘Look, I just happened to be there, with Gomer the night his Minnie died. J.W. wa
s like a priest, giving his wife the last rites. But she was already dead. Ellis said at the funeral that he’d baptized them together. Was that a public thing? Were you present?’

  Judith came away from the fireplace. There was a large, iron coal stove in it, closed up. She walked to the small window and stood looking out. She was thinking. And she evidently did not want Merrily to see her thinking.

  ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘No, I was not there, as such.’

  ‘Am I right in thinking that Menna was still felt to be... possessed, if you like, by her father?’

  ‘He was not a pleasant man,’ Judith said.

  And did you get Menna on the Pill from an early age because you were afraid that what happened to Barbara might happen to her, too? Merrily didn’t ask that. It perhaps didn’t need asking, not right now.

  ‘You couldn’t really be sure that Merv was leaving her alone, could you?’

  Judith didn’t reply.

  ‘And whatever he was like, she was still dependent on him. Dependent on a strong man? Which Weal realized, and lost no time in exploiting.’

  Judith kept on looking out of the window. ‘He was too old for her, yes. Too rigid in his ways, perhaps. But she was a flimsy, delicate thing. She would always need protection. She was never going to have much of a life with Jeffery, but she would at least be protected.’

  ‘Like a moth in a jar,’ Merrily said – and Judith turned sharply around. Merrily met her clear gaze. ‘When exactly did you begin to think that J.W. Weal, in his way, might be as bad for Menna as her father had been?’

  ‘It was not my business any more.’

  ‘Oh come on, you’d known that girl all her life. Did it really not occur to you that Weal might think he was somehow still in competition with the dead Mervyn Thomas for Menna’s affections? If that’s the right word? That maybe he didn’t think he was getting... everything he was entitled to.’

  Judith came back to the fireplace. ‘Who is this going to help now?’

  Merrily thought back to Barbara Buckingham. Possession is nine points of the law. Perhaps there was still a chance to help Barbara.

  But that wouldn’t matter much to Judith Prosser.

  ‘Menna,’ Merrily said softly. ‘Perhaps it will help Menna.’

  And so it came out.

  The big room at the back of the house. The dining room in which probably no one ever dined. The bay-windowed room with rearing shadows. The room facing the mausoleum.

  ‘This was where it was actually done?’ Merrily said. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I watched, of course. I stood in the garden and I spied, just as you did on the night of Menna’s funeral. I was in our yard when I saw Father Ellis’s car go past slowly. I followed on foot. I saw him enter the old rectory with the medical bag he carries for such occasions. It was towards evening. I saw Menna dressed in white. I saw Father Ellis. I did not see Jeffery.’

  Something had snapped. Something had fallen into place. Perhaps something which, even to a local person, was no longer defensible.

  Merrily said cautiously, ‘And did what happened bear comparison with what took place at the village hall yesterday?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Judith said. ‘It was not possible to see what was happening below the level of the window.’

  Merrily’s palms were damp. ‘You’re saying she was on the floor at some point?’

  ‘I’m saying she wasn’t visible.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘About three... four... weeks ago? I can’t remember exactly.’

  ‘Not that long before she had her stroke, then.’

  ‘I’m making no connection, Mrs Watkins.’

  ‘Do you believe she was possessed and needed exorcism?’

  ‘I think she needed help.’

  ‘Was Dr Coll there?’

  ‘I have no reason to think so.’

  ‘So just Ellis and Menna.’

  ‘I imagine Jeffery was somewhere in the house. His car was there anyway.’

  ‘But you didn’t see him in the room?’

  ‘No. What do you want, Mrs Watkins? How can you knowing any of this possibly help Menna now?’

  ‘She haunted Barbara,’ Merrily said.

  ‘Haunted?’

  ‘I’m using the word loosely. Like memories haunt, guilt haunts.’

  ‘Yes, we know all about that.’

  ‘And spirits haunt.’

  ‘Do they really?’ Judith said. ‘Do you seriously believe that?’

  ‘Wouldn’t be much good in this job if I didn’t.’ What did Judith herself believe? That Ellis was an effective psychologist or an effective and useful con man?

  Merrily said, ‘Barbara wanted me to do a kind of exorcism in reverse, to free Menna’s spirit from Weal’s possession. Possession of the dead by the living.’

  ‘Do you seriously believe—?’

  ‘She believed. And I believe we may have a tormented and frantic... essence which can’t find peace. Like a moth in a jar, except—’

  ‘A moth in a jar doesn’t live long.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s the difference.’

  ‘And how would you deal with this, Mrs Watkins?’ Judith placed her hands on her narrow hips. ‘How would you deal with it now? How would you go about it? Explain to me.’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be an exorcism, because this is not an evil spirit. If we think of her perhaps as still a victim, needing to be rescued. Which is normally done by celebrating a Requiem Eucharist in the appropriate place, in the company of people close to the dead person. In this case it could be you. And Mr Weal, obviously.’

  ‘Then it will never be done, will it?’

  Merrily heard Eileen Cullen, with the echoes of hospital clatter. Swear to God he knew it was there. Twice, he looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘He won’t let her go.’ She sank into the chair, clutching the bundled coat to her chest. ‘That’s what this is about: possessing her in death as he never fully did in life. And knowing that... how can I let it go on?’

  ‘Suppose...’ Judith’s voice had risen in pitch. ‘Suppose I could get you into that house, into that room – or into the tomb – to perform your ceremony? You wouldn’t be doing it with his compliance, but you wouldn’t be doing it against his will either, since he wouldn’t know about it. Wouldn’t that be better than nothing from your point of view, Mrs Watkins?’

  ‘How could you fix that?’

  ‘I have keys, see – keys to the house and also to the tomb. Menna was often taken unwell, so Jeffery gave me a key to get in and attend to her. When she died, he needed someone to let the masons in, to work on the tomb.’

  ‘Why would you want to risk letting me in?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Judith said, ‘it’s a question of what is right – the right thing to do. I cared for Menna when she was alive. Perhaps it’s the last thing I can do for her.’

  ‘But it’s not right for me to go into someone’s house without permission.’

  ‘Well...’ Judith shrugged. ‘That’s your decision, isn’t it?’ She bent over and released a valve on the iron stove; there was a rush of air and a slow-building roar of fire. ‘I was about to say, Mrs Watkins, that Jeffery won’t be there tonight. It’s his lodge night. He never misses it, unlike Councillor Prosser. It’ll be even more important to him now. Always a great comfort to a man, the Masons.’

  Merrily said, ‘Perhaps it’s a job for Father Ellis instead.’

  Judith looked at her with severity. ‘Does that mean you are afraid, Mrs Watkins?’

  Part Five

  When I looked for good, then evil came unto me; and when I waited for light there came darkness... I stood up and I cried in the congregation... I am a brother to dragons and a companion to owls.

  Book of Job, Chapter 30, v. 26–9

  47

  Breath of the Dragon

  MERRILY HAD ARRANGED to meet Gomer in the Black Lion for a sandwich around two-thirty. She was early, but the pub was already f
illing up with those civilized rambling-club types – anoraks and soft drinks – who seemed to constitute Ellis’s core congregation.

  More of them today, substantially more. You looked at them individually and they seemed worryingly genuine: young people with a vision of a new day, elderly people with a new and healthy approach to the evening of the day. There was a buzz of energy in the dispirited, part-painted Black Lion bar, each hug, each ‘Praise God’ passing on a vibration.

  Merrily found herself standing next to a white-bearded man of about sixty, one of the few with a glass of beer. She asked him where he was from. Wolverhampton, he said, West Midland Pentecostal.

  ‘How far’ve you come, sister?’

  ‘Oh, just from Ledwardine, just over the border. How many of you are there?’

  ‘About... what, fifty-five? Hired ourselves a coach. Luckily, there’s a lot of retired people in our church, but quite a few youngsters’ve taken a day off work.’ He grinned, relaxed. ‘It’s a question of whose work you put first, isn’t it? We’re going to walk down to this satanist place after lunch and hold some Bible readings outside the gate. I’ve not actually seen Father Ellis yet, but I’m told he’s a very inspiring man.’

  ‘So they say.’

  ‘Praise God,’ said the man from Wolverhampton.

  Merrily saw Gomer coming in and pointed to the table near the door. She ordered drinks and cheese sandwiches at the bar. Greg Starkey avoided her eyes.

  Gomer was wearing his bomber jacket over a grey sweatshirt with ‘Gomer Parry Plant Hire’ on it in red.

  ‘Three bloody coaches on the car park, vicar.’

  ‘Mmm. It’s what happens these days – everything goes to extremes. Fastest growing movement in the Church and, hey, they’re going to prove it.’