by Colin Davy
Debbie shook her head. “Don’t be so reticent, Maria. The truth is, Gary, she doesn’t approve of my friends, especially my closest friends.” Beside her, Maria’s lips tightened again as her sister’s voice rose in volume. “Because she has no friends herself, she thinks my friends aren’t committed to a long-term relationship …” She paused, as if gathering her breath. “She also thinks they’re the wrong sex.”
“Because they’re males?” he asked.
“No, because they’re females.”
“Debs,” Maria said softly. “He doesn’t need to know your murky secrets.”
“Why not?” she said. “If you’re asking his advice, you may as well tell him the whole backstory.”
Gary said nothing
“There’s such a thing as discretion,” Maria said before turning to Gary. “She likes to shock,” she said. “As well as exaggerate, but we all know it’s mostly her imagination.”
“Oh,” Debbie said. “Keith might disagree.”
“Keith?” he asked. “Your vicar?”
They both frowned, but it was Maria who answered. “Pastor is the word,” she said. “But it’s the congregation we’re concerned with.”
“They’ve stopped doing what they ought to,” Debbie said quickly. “Maria’s always been a worrier, and if things don’t go the way she thinks they ought, she worries it’s …” She gave an apologetic smile. “She thinks evil forces are responsible.”
“Not always,” Maria said. “Something is seriously wrong, but maybe we’re too close to the problem.” She stopped to give a brief smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, it worries me, but Debbie wouldn’t see anything amiss if it bit her on her rather ample bum.”
He didn’t smile. Debbie’s rear-end was on the generous side, but comments might only be allowed from close female relatives. “Maria, I can’t advise about your congregation when I don’t know anything about them. What are Pentecostals? Is it a branch of the happy-clappers?”
She blinked rapidly and shook her head. “It’s not your religious knowledge I need,” she said. “It’s your knowledge of the dark side.”
That makes slightly more sense, he thought, although he wasn’t sure it sounded complimentary.
“We’re not happy-clappers,” Maria said firmly. She sighed at his ignorance, finally lost for words, but he was partially reassured. He could eliminate a psychotic; she definitely wasn’t that. Perhaps religious and a little neurotic, but that was all. And her allusion to the dark side suggested she knew her knight had failings, so weaning her off stalking shouldn’t be difficult. Maybe he wouldn’t need his sickness excuse after all? “What exactly is the problem with your congregation of new dwellers?” he asked, finding the phrase just as strange as when Maria used it.
After glancing at Debbie, Maria seemed to come to a decision. “They’re disappearing,” she said. “From the face of the earth, disappearing without trace.”
Chapter Four
“That’s not true, Maz,” Debbie said loudly. “Our numbers are growing.”
“But the regulars are disappearing,” Maria said, the fire back in her eyes. “The more dependable ones are going, the ones who wouldn’t go without saying why.”
Debbie sighed before glancing at Gary. “I’ve told her already,” she said. “But when Maria sees things she can’t understand, she assumes everything is hurtling out of control. It’s her character. I’ve tried to explain, but she won’t have it, and it’s affecting her sleep.”
“Where did the missing people go then?” Maria asked.
Gary decided it was safe to intervene in the sisters’ argument. “They’re a naturally transient population, surely,” he said to Maria. “Predominantly female, young and in the process of making a life for themselves in a new country. If, lacking roots, they become unsettled, they can up-sticks at short notice.” He was guessing at the ‘predominantly female’ line, but it seemed a fair bet.
“It is surprising,” Maria said emphatically. “They’re dedicated, it’s not a hobby for them, it’s their life.”
“It might be your life,” he said, “but it might not be theirs.” It wasn’t the advice she wanted, but it seemed logical. And although, it also sounded simplistic, it could easily be the truth.
“You’re wrong,” she said. “So wrong.”
When the ring of a mobile interrupted them. Debbie rummaged in her purse and brought out a phone. Seeing the number, she looked up quickly before answering it. “I’ll take it in my bedroom,” she said. Turning on her heel, she headed there. In the sudden silence, he turned to Maria. “Have you thought your sister might be right?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Debs must sometimes be right, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
He shrugged. “I can only tell you what I think.”
“I know,” she said. “And for that I’m grateful.” But she didn’t sound grateful, she sounded petulant.
“Thanks,” he said, but when he rose to his feet, she looked shocked. “You’re going?”
“Well,” he said. “I do seem to have served my purpose.”
She stared for a second before rising too. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’ve a train to catch.” After giving a shout of farewell to her sister, she rose and headed for the door but was intercepted by her sister. Gary watched as the sisters embraced, before Maria turned back to him and motioned him to the door. Was that it? With one bound, he was free? It seemed too good to be true.
“Thanks for coming.” Debbie called to them. “Have fun.”
Maria closed the door behind them and pulled him down the corridor. “There’s something you don’t know,” she said softly.
“There’s a lot I don’t know.”
She frowned. “I couldn’t tell you with Debs there,” she said. “But I received an e-mail a couple of weeks ago from one of her friends.”
“Oh?”
“I could show you if you’ve a laptop available, it might change your mind.”
It sounded intriguing, but it could be an excuse to get in his room. “Is it relevant?” he asked.
She saw his expression. “I’m telling the truth,” she said, almost in a sulky tone. “I’ll send it when I get home, what’s your e-mail address?”
“Don’t you have a smartphone?” he asked.
“I’ve a cell-phone.”
“Has it got internet access?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Keith frowns on excessive use of social media,” she said. “Most of the congregation ignore him, but Debs and I made a pact when we joined that we’d only use our phones for communication, and not condemnation.”
He had a smartphone nestling in his pocket, a sinful one according to her pastor, but he was relieved she intended to go straight home - perhaps she was telling the truth about the e-mail. He could be awkward and refuse to give her his e-mail address, but that risked provoking a messy showdown for the entertainment of his neighbours. Why be awkward? When he gave his e-mail address, she nodded but made no effort to write it down. No doubt relying on her remarkable memory again.
“You’d better see me to the door,” she said. “In case it’s locked. Debs usually does.”
That made sense, and they walked down the stairs in amiable silence until they reached the foyer. A loud ‘shushing’ noise came from outside and a sudden crack of thunder revealed the source. Outside a monsoon had arrived, the rain belting onto the concrete and bouncing almost waist-high. Pausing at the entrance door with her hand on the handle, she glanced back at him.
“You can’t go out yet,” he said. “Not without a coat.” Dressed a light t-shirt, she’d be soaked before she ran five metres.
“I didn’t think,” she said apologetically.
No, and he could hardly blame her. Although the heat-wave was bound to break eventually, today had been hotter than ever. She didn’t carry a handbag either and he thought it was typical of her character.
After glancing at her wristwatch, she grima
ced.
“Moorfields?” he asked.
She glanced up.
“Moorfields station?”
“Oh … yes.”
Although the rain eased a fraction, dark clouds scurried above. “It looks to be set in for the night,” he said. Although he didn’t bother to ask, he suspected her sister would also be car-less. “Once it eases, we’ll make a dash for my car,” he said. “I’ll give you a lift home.” He’d only had the one pint tonight so he’d be safe, and he suspected she’d insist on leaving immediately.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
She didn’t mean it. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’ll be soaked through, and don’t tell me it’s warm rain.” She might not freeze to death, but she wasn’t suited to a wet t-shirt contest even with a bra under the thin material. His smile convinced her and she gave a nod of gratitude. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s brave it.” Grabbing her hand, he ran at a trot to his car. Once inside, he brushed off the worst of the rain from his t-shirt before sitting back.
Her t-shirt was damp and clung tightly to her slim frame, but she seemed more concerned with shaking her hair dry, spattering him by mistake. At his forgiving smile, she smiled back but made no apology.
The silence persisted when they headed north through the Liverpool streets, the quiet broken only by the rhythmic click-clack from the wipers. When he looked across, she seemed engrossed in watching ill-clad pedestrians trying to dodge the now steady drizzle. Suddenly aware of his gaze, she gave another brief smile.
He could break the uneasy silence by asking about her and her sister’s background. He was curious, but there were two problems. Firstly, she seemed touchy when it was mentioned, and secondly, if she opened up, it might encourage her to think they had a future together. Grabbing her hand when they’d rushed from the flat had been careless and might already have encouraged her. Although he didn’t dislike the girl, he could almost hear Sophie’s voice in his head. ‘Don’t lead her on unless you mean it.’
For now, she seemed engrossed in the rain and surroundings. “The drains aren’t coping,” she said suddenly.
“Hmm …?”
“The roadside drains,” she said. “They must be blocked by leaves, the water’s puddling on top.” Her face looked strained.
He was surprised, both by the banality of the comment and her ignorance of British seasons. “It’ll be the dust and debris from the long, dry spell,” he said. “The water will run away soon.”
She ignored him, rapt in her own thoughts and disturbed by what she saw. A small thing, but significant, and to be honest, something he sometimes found unsettling - even though he knew it to be silly. Glancing over again, he saw her fiddling with a lock of her hair, twisting it round and round. “What did this e-mail say?” he asked, to take her mind off the Liverpool drainage system.
When she turned to face him, it seemed to have worked. She became animated. “It’s from one of Deb’s friends,” she said. “One of her closest friends.” She waited for his reaction, but he only nodded. “She’s called Caitlyn Jones, and she was very worried about her.”
“Caitlyn?” he asked. “Is that Welsh or Australian?”
“A New Zealander.”
“Why is she worried about Debbie?”
She sighed. “Because she claimed to have seen Debs out on the town with Keith.”
“Out on the town?” He wondered if Caitlyn’s version might be more excitable than it was. “Clubbing, you mean?” he asked.
“Night-clubbing?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so.”
He waited for her to continue, but he should have known better. “Was it in the early hours?” he asked.
She suddenly seemed interested in the Bootle docks. “Maria?” he prompted.
She turned back. “They were drinking,” she whispered. “In a pub.”
He nodded. Wow! A real walk on the wild side, but he tried not to smile, obviously drinking was sin enough in her eyes. “How old is this Keith?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Sixty, perhaps.”
He sat back to consider. “Is he married?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is Debbie involved with the administration of the church in any way?”
Her lips tightened. “No, she said. “Only Caitlyn helped him with the membership lists.”
“How about the finances?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He decided to probe further. “Was Caitlyn worried about losing her job to Debbie?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “It’s unpaid and Caits is well-off anyway.”
He smiled. “You have a prosperous membership.”
That caught her attention. “What do you mean by that?”
Glancing across, he saw her eyes blazing. “Steady on,” he said. “I’m only trying to sort out the background.”
She took a long breath. “Sorry,” she said. “Yes, we tend to be self-sufficient, but Keith isn’t concerned about money.”
“He’s rich?”
When he glanced across this time, she seemed to have calmed. “He’s not poor,” she said. “But you don’t understand. He does so much for the church, both in time and money. I’m sure he’s what he seems.”
Ah, she wasn’t as naïve as she sometimes appeared. “What’s the real problem then?” he asked.
“They weren’t on their own,” she said. “Caits says John was with them, and Debs was flirting with him.”
He stopped himself from saying something he might regret. Flirting seemed to be Debbie’s natural pastime if tonight was anything to go by. As for this John, he decided not to probe further. “Why not confront Debbie?” he asked. “There could be an innocent explanation?”
She looked away. “The e-mail’s from her best friend and she’ll feel betrayed by Caits and me if she knows we’re discussing it behind her back.”
“Then bring it out into the open, don’t let it fester.”
She seemed to shrink into the seat. “I don’t like scenes,” she said softly. “I can’t handle them.”
“She’s your twin sister,” he said. “You should be able to talk openly.”
“I know, but things have been fraught between us. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“So, keeping quiet is the better option?”
“It’s the easiest,” she said. “And she might think I don’t trust her.”
“Do you?”
She looked away again.
“Surely, your sister’s night out with fellow parishioners isn’t a disaster?”
“No, but I’m worried it may be linked to the disappearances.”
Now she’d surprised him. “Perhaps Debbie’s shipping them off somewhere for a life of debauchery?”
For a brief second, she took him seriously. “Gary,” she said slowly. “You can’t trust Debs. Even if she means well, it always turns out shitty.”
He was caught off balance by her vehemence. “Do you mean that?”
“I do.”
He gave up. “Maria,” he said. “It might be easier if you told me your real concern, rather than having me coax it out of you. What do you suspect?”
“I wish I knew,” she said. “Despite her front, Debbie’s too good-natured for her own safety. She thinks she’s inviolable.”
Inviolable? An odd word, he thought, but surprisingly accurate for someone who claimed at the weekend to be unfamiliar with English phrases. Inviolable suggested honour rather than vulnerability. Was that Maria’s real worry for her sister, her honour rather than her vulnerability? Although her use of the word ‘front’ might not be the best one to use. “If Keith isn’t the problem,” he asked. “And Debbie is an innocent, who is the villain?”
“John,” she said firmly, “I don’t like him, and I’m worried she might be involved in something financial that she doesn’t understand.”
He nodded, he was gradually discovering the many f
acets of her personality. She didn’t do small talk, she was judgemental, she disliked confrontation, and she had a few other quirks. He could add, from personal experience, that that she was liable to sudden fancies combined with a poor taste in men. Looking in the mirror, he tried to work out his attraction. Nope. Dark hair, regular features and a nose a fraction large. Unremarkable, he thought. But perhaps he’d been unduly hasty on her looks. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but her eyes flared into life when she showed expression and she possessed a quiet sensuality he suspected she’d be horrified by.
Would he? If given a chance? Would he? Better not go there, he decided. “Is John an old married man too?” he asked.
She shook her head, but reluctantly, he thought. “No, he’s around our age and supposedly single.”
Ah, sex had finally reared its ugly head. “You think she’s in danger from him?”
She sighed. “Caitlyn claims there’s a sub-group in the congregation, it’s called the ‘Angels’.”
“A nice enough name,” he said. “Is Debbie a member?”
“Not yet.”
“What does this sub-group do?”
She frowned. “I don’t know.”
“A sect within a sect?”
Her frown darkened.
“Are you worried she might become a member?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s Caitlyn I’m worried about.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s disappeared.”
He held his breath for a moment, but she said no more. “I assume she’s not part of the Magic Circle?”
She shook her head.
“When did she disappear?”
She sighed. “I wish I knew.” When she laid her hand gently on his knee, he frowned. It didn’t interfere with his driving, but even if it was an unconscious action, it made him uneasy. She must have sensed this because she took her hand away and frowned.
“Sometime in the last month,” she continued. “Even though she was half-way through arranging a mortgage on a small house in Banks, she walked out and disappeared. People just don’t do that.”
“A house?” he asked. “She has a family?”