by Lulu Taylor
She felt so sorry for her friend, and so desperate to do whatever she could, yet there didn’t seem to be any way to help. She tried to be practical, finding a place for Kate to live – a tiny modern house on the estate just outside the town – and helping to get her settled. She offered to go to the old house and see what was left to salvage and Kate blinked at her as though she didn’t know what Caz was talking about. The police investigation was completed when they were satisfied there had been no crime. After the insurance people had done their assessment, Rory and Caz collected up the remnants and Caz brought around boxes of what had been saved from the house.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Kate said, her eyes lighting on a box that held what had been taken from the playroom: some books and toys that had survived the deluge of water from the fire hoses. ‘I’m going to need those.’
Caz looked about the room and thought then that if she hadn’t known Heather was dead, she would have imagined the little girl was still here. A small blue coat covered in white stars hung on the peg in the hall, with a pair of boots underneath it. On the table was a plastic plate with a ham sandwich on it, and a peeled satsuma in a bowl next to it.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she asked Kate.
‘Yes. I’m fine.’ She seemed remarkably okay in many ways. If one didn’t think too much about her refusal to see Ady. ‘But Rory came round again last night.’ Her eyes filled with coldness. ‘I wish he’d just leave me alone. He must know it’s all over. He’s on and on at me to see a counsellor. That’s what he calls it, but I think he means a psychotherapist. I don’t see the point. I’d be fine, if I were left alone to get on with things in my own way. I just need some time. Some space. Maybe some time away.’
‘Really?’ Caz ventured. She could see a row of pill bottles on the windowsill in the kitchen. ‘Would that help?’
For a moment, she looked like the old Kate again: the vivacious, pretty, energetic woman Caz loved, before the horror drained her of everything and left the dead-eyed automaton in her place. ‘I think it would,’ she said. ‘I really think it would.’
‘How long would you need?’
She shrugged. ‘A couple of months.’ Then she leaned towards her, her eyes intense, with more emotion in her than Caz had seen for a long time. ‘Caz, I know I can do it. I can get away. But Rory doesn’t want me to – and he’s got all of them on side. The doctors. My mother, my sister. They want to keep tabs on me, maybe even get me on a ward or in a secure unit. I can’t cope with that, Caz. I absolutely can’t. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. I’ve got a plan but I’ll need some help with it. I need someone I can trust. Will you help me?’
She must have known Caz would. She was desperate to help. She understood that Kate’s agony was only just beginning, and that she needed to get through this strange, disconnected stage so that she could begin to accept what had happened and come to terms with it. She had to do it before they brought Ady round. He would need her when she came back.
‘Of course I will.’
And that was when she committed herself to Kate’s escape.
But now everything has changed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Letty cannot quite believe she is celebrating her own wedding when the community makes its way back to the house for the feast in honour of the Beloved’s union. The Angels have been busy and have conjured up a magnificent banquet, set out on a huge trestle table in the hall, where everybody sits, the happy couples in the position of honour.
It is strange to see Arabella at the Beloved’s side, Sarah now moved a few places away. The Beloved himself looks invigorated by his marriage ceremony, and often glances at his new bride, who appears flushed and happy, almost at ease in her place as consort. Of course, in many ways, she has held the position already. As owner of the house and the Beloved’s favourite, she has always been accorded a high status. Now, though, she has no challenge to her role as the most important woman in the community. There is a deference from everyone that wasn’t there before. And Sarah, while still treated with every courtesy, has the unmistakable air of the dowager about her.
Letty sits beside her new husband, and next to him are the Kendalls, happy in a bewildered way at the turn events have taken. Their son is now the spiritual brother-in-law of the Beloved, and surely this will bring him truly into the fold. Letty can see it in their eyes: the desire that this honour will help soften Arthur towards the Beloved, and give him a status in the community that makes it more appealing to him. She can guess that they yearn for his soul to be saved along with theirs.
Arthur, though, doesn’t appear to be softening very much at all. His demeanour is no different to what it has been over the weeks since his arrival: reserved and taciturn, with a touch of sulkiness about his mouth and the air of someone wishing he were somewhere else.
Letty wonders how many marriages begin in absolute silence, with the groom unwilling to look at his bride.
‘May I pass you something?’ she asks in as friendly a way as she can. ‘The pressed tongue is excellent. You should try it.’
He grunts and takes the plate she offers, forks some tongue onto his plate and passes it on to his mother on his other side.
She leans towards him and says in a low voice, ‘I had no idea that this was the will of the Lamb. I’m as surprised as you are. But it cannot have been ordained without purpose. I’m sure that if we pray and persevere, we shall begin to understand the plan.’
He turns his cool grey gaze upon her and says, ‘You can’t honestly believe that we’re married. The little farce we’ve all just been through doesn’t mean a thing. I might as well have married the table.’
She gasps and pulls back, reddening. Then she remembers herself. Her role is to bring this lost soul to the fold. He is going to resist, that’s obvious. She must learn not to take what he says personally, and to forgive him if he is brusque or insulting.
‘The union is a spiritual one,’ she reminds him. ‘So you’re right in a way. I hope you might, in time, come to understand, though, that it is more precious because of it.’
He looks at her with something like pity. ‘You are happy to be given away without being consulted or offering your consent?’
‘It’s the will of the Lamb,’ she says. Surely he can understand that her consent or consultation is nothing compared to that. The will must be accepted, embraced. It is an honour to be chosen for holy work.
Arthur shrugs. ‘Believe it if you want to, it makes no difference to me.’
The Beloved gets to his feet and calls for quiet, then begins his bridegroom’s speech, a rousing oration on the nature of a spiritual union. He reminds them that their purpose no longer includes the need to procreate, when the Day of Judgement is so close at hand. He quotes from the Bible: ‘For, behold, the days are coming, in which they shall say, blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the paps which never gave suck.’ He tells them that this holy community, chosen for endless life, shall not know death and therefore does not need to know birth either. He praises them for their acceptance. ‘You are blessed. For I am among you! I am working out my plan. The day is coming soon when I shall be known and accepted in truth, and the world will marvel.’
An expectant silence falls. There is the sense that the Beloved is about to say something that will change everything for them, make it all fall into place. But he does not. He leads them in a group prayer and declares that the party must go on. The evening ends with a singsong around the piano of the community’s favourite hymns. Then, at last, it is time to retire. Letty bids goodnight to her husband, and makes her way to the little dressing room where she is still sleeping on the camp bed. Arabella comes in while she is undressing.
‘Congratulations!’ She hugs Letty hard and stands back, beaming. ‘Who would have thought we’d be married on the same day, at the same hour!’
‘Yes. I had no idea!’ Letty smiles back. It seems a little strange to be married when nothing has chang
ed. Here they both are, getting ready for bed as usual.
‘I’m sorry Arthur cannot join you tonight,’ Arabella says lightly, unpinning the veil from her head.
Letty looks up at her, surprised. ‘What do you mean?’ Arthur has gone up with his parents, as he has every night. She expected no different now.
‘The Beloved says that when the cottage is ready in a couple of days, the Kendalls will move there, and you can return to your own room. Arthur can join you then.’
Letty gapes at her, and says, ‘But I don’t understand. Why would he join me? The marriages are spiritual ones. The Beloved has said from the start that there is no union, no physical union. So we don’t need to share a room. Why would we?’
‘Sometimes you’re very dense, Letty,’ Arabella says, looking exasperated. ‘Here, help me unbutton my dress, won’t you? I can’t reach. What’s the point of renouncing the flesh if you are not tempted? Where is the triumph over the Devil in that? The Beloved has explained it all to me. We’re only doing truly holy work if we allow temptation near us and resist it. It’s obvious when you think about it.’
Letty stands very still, but her face flushes bright red. ‘You mean . . . you will share a bed with the Beloved?’
‘Yes,’ Arabella says airily, and Letty cannot tell whether she is as insouciant as she pretends or not. ‘That’s right. And you’ll share with Arthur. In time.’
Letty cannot speak as she unbuttons Arabella’s dress, and watches as she wanders out to the bedroom, but as soon as she is gone, Letty shuts the door and leans against it. She breathes fast, feeling a little ill. She had no idea she would be expected to share such intimacy with that young man. He is a stranger to her, and he has no affection for her at all. For a moment, she feels a flash of indignation, and she thinks of Arthur asking if she is happy to be given away like this. A surge of rebellious anger goes through her. Then she exerts her will, pushing it down and saying to herself, It’s only because I don’t understand the plan properly. If I obey, it will be made clear. The Beloved cannot do wrong. Whatever he decides must be right.
That night, she lies on her camp bed and wills herself to go to sleep, but she cannot. Despite the heavy door between the dressing room and the bedroom, she can hear sounds from Arabella’s room. At first, it is Arabella padding about, and then a long stretch of quiet when she must have climbed into her four-poster bed. Letty squeezes her eyes shut in the darkness and tries to summon sleep, but it will not come.
After about twenty minutes, she hears a door open and close, and footsteps across the floor. She hears the low murmur of the Beloved’s voice and knows he is there, with her sister, in her bedroom. She tries not to picture Arabella in her nightdress tucked under the sheets and the Beloved in his nightshirt, climbing in beside her. She waits for the noise next door to stop as they go to sleep, but it does not subside for some long time. There is the squeak of a spring and the creak of wood, murmured voices, and a cry that is quickly stifled. Letty pushes her fingers into her ears and listens to the loud rush of her own breathing and the thud of her own heartbeat. When at last she pulls them out, all is quiet.
It is three more nights before Mr and Mrs Kendall move out of Letty’s room and go to the cottage that has been made ready for them. It is a signal mark of favour that they have been accorded their own place to live, and Arabella remarks idly that it is because Mr Kendall has made a huge donation to the cause, and has promised more.
Letty scans her sister’s face for signs of any change since her marriage to the Beloved, but there is nothing obvious. She seems much the same as ever, healthy and serene. But each night is the same: the creaks and groans that come from Arabella’s bedroom, lasting around ten minutes at most, that Letty can only suspect are sounds of married love. This she can scarcely believe. It is against all that the Beloved has proclaimed about spiritual unions. It makes no sense at all.
Perhaps then, she reasons, it is not what she thinks, but something else. Perhaps it is in fact the Beloved and Arabella resisting temptation – praying together, embracing as they fight the urges placed in them by the Devil. That’s what it must be, she tells herself. And it is a stain on her that she might even think otherwise.
She and her new husband have little to do with one another. She makes a point of greeting him politely but he only grunts a response, although once or twice, she thinks she sees a look of something like pity in his eyes. When she suggests they pray together, he is resistant and refuses to join her. Letty is embarrassed that the other community members, watching with interest, see her rebuffed but she comforts herself with the reassurance that in time she will prevail with him. Sometimes, when she looks for Arthur, he is nowhere to be found, and then she sees him coming in through the front door in his coat and boots.
‘Just out for a walk,’ he says when she asks him where he has been. ‘Getting the air.’
It’s not surprising a young man needs exercise. She understands. When she offers to join him for a walk around the grounds, he refuses, and hurries away to his room.
My room, she thinks. At least, it was and it will be again soon.
Mr and Mrs Kendall are almost overly polite to her, eager to be friendly and to make excuses for their son’s recalcitrance.
‘You will be the making of him, Miss Evans,’ says his mother, grasping her hand when they meet over tea in the drawing room.
‘Please, call me Letty.’
‘We know you’ve been chosen to save his soul,’ says his father. ‘You have our eternal gratitude.’
‘I will do my best,’ Letty says. ‘I can do no more.’
She expects Arthur to resist when it is explained to him that he will be expected to share the blue bedroom with her, now that his parents are moving out of it. She imagines he will be furious and demand to be given his independence. He will want to go to the cottage, where there is a bedroom he could have as his own. But, on the contrary, he is docile and seems happy to go along with it.
At this, Letty feels her first flicker of hope. He has given her an opportunity to make friends with him, and surely from that will come the path to salvation. After all, can they share something so intimate as a bed without growing close to one another? Surely not.
The night she is to return to her room, she gathers up her things to take back there. Kitty comes in to help her.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks, seeing Letty’s white face.
‘Oh yes.’ She smiles bravely. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Nervous, are you?’ Kitty looks sympathetic as she loads cushions into her arms from the camp bed. ‘I’m not surprised. You don’t even know him, do you?’
‘Yes. It will be a challenge.’ Letty hopes she sounds more courageous than she feels. ‘I know it won’t be easy. But this is the first step on the way.’
‘All right,’ Kitty says laconically. ‘Just you make sure he understands the terms. The Beloved was clear. This is a marriage of spirits. If he tries it on with you, you let me know, that’s all.’
Letty blushes. She can’t help thinking of the sounds that come from Arabella’s room at night. ‘We will resist all temptation,’ she says quickly. ‘We will pray together that we escape the torments of the flesh.’
Kitty gives her a sideways look. ‘Yes. You do that. But if you find he wants to do more than pray, don’t be afraid of shouting out and letting us all know. He’s not a true believer, that one. We’ve all noticed it. We don’t know why the Beloved puts up with him. Talk about the viper in the bosom.’
‘The Beloved wants to save his soul,’ Letty reminds her.
‘Or for you to.’ Kitty sniffs. ‘It’s not for me to question the will, but I’m still puzzled, that’s all. I can’t help it, I’ll be quite honest about it.’
‘You must try, Kitty,’ Letty says gently. ‘Try and accept. As I have.’
‘You’re too good,’ Kitty replies, shaking her head. ‘A pattern to us all.’ She turns to take her pile of cushions away. ‘Just look out for yourself, t
hough. Don’t let yourself get taken advantage of.’
‘I won’t,’ Letty promises, but she feels more afraid than before. Why would the Beloved put her in the position of making herself vulnerable to a man who doesn’t love her? I must not question. He knows all. He would never put me in danger. I am under his protection.
The hands on the clock take flight, and spin outrageously fast. Before she feels in the least ready, the bell is ringing for dinner and they are all in the big dining room, the Angels serving up the plentiful and wholesome food: roasted chicken, three types of potato, garden vegetables and thick, aromatic gravy. Letty can barely swallow a mouthful. She is only aware of Arthur at her side, as he always is now. He seems larger than ever, a great broad shape that dwarfs her own – what can it be like to take up so much room in the world? – and large, long-fingered hands. As he cuts up his food, she can’t help watching them and wondering what they would feel like on her body. She banishes the thought at once.
You see how quickly the Devil works! I have no desire for him at all and already my thoughts are polluted!
She darts her gaze around, hoping that no one has seen her look at Arthur’s hands, as if fearful that they can read her mind.
Does she have no desire for him? She has given no thought to it, aware only that life here in the house means shunning the flesh. She is ready for a different kind of bliss – if married relations are bliss. Cecily once said, in a moment of candour, that it was something to be endured – not pleasant and not dignified but necessary for a man – and so she has felt that she must be lucky to be spared it at the same time as guaranteed a place in paradise in the near future. Now she is forced to think about it, and she is confused. And scared.