by Marion Leigh
‘You think your hare-brained scheme will work?’ Florian sneered.
‘A darn sight better than your feeble attempts to restore a balance in this country. If you did some proper work instead of messing around with that priest and indulging your appetites, you might have some success.’
‘You don’t get it do you, old man? People with vision are the only ones that count. I have no time for you and your kind. Get one of the bloody slaves to help you with this thing!’
Florian stomped off and for a minute there was silence. Then Petra heard Tony’s footsteps moving away. She waited another few minutes before checking that the coast was clear and leaving the storeroom. As she walked back to her bedroom in the lodge, she replayed the conversation in her head. What the hell were the Brosellis involved in?
Chapter
17
The slave lodge was well removed from the manor house, the guest accommodation, and the estate’s frequently used buildings like the tasting centre and the stables. Father John parked his golf-mobile outside, unlocked the door and went in. The air was cool but stuffy. Reaching up, he opened two small windows and looked around.
At one end of the room stood a rough-hewn table. At the other end, a brown curtain hung wall to wall from brass rings on a wooden rod. In between, he counted six rows of benches and nodded to himself. A few minutes’ preparation and everything would be ready.
He checked his watch and went to the door. Florian pulled up in another of the estate’s golf carts.
‘Where’s Julia? You were supposed to bring her.’
‘I can’t find the bitch. Someone said she felt sick during lunch, but she isn’t in her room. She’ll show up.’
‘She’d better.’
‘You can’t conduct your charade without her, is that it?’ he said with a mocking smile.
‘Don’t be so antagonistic, my boy. The routine works, you know that. Of course we can do it without her, but she inspires confidence in the others.’
Florian shook off Father John’s hand. ‘And now she’s leaving. Where’s the logic in that?’
‘It’s better than having her turn on us. Go and fetch the group.’
‘Don’t forget to close the windows.’
Petra brushed her teeth to get rid of the taste of garlic and checked her face in the mirror. She hadn’t caught the sun during her morning wander round the estate. A pity Carlo had skipped lunch and gone off on a mission somewhere. She would have to tell him about Tony and Florian later.
She decided to walk to the slave lodge instead of using the transport arranged by Sandrine. On an impulse she took off her cross and put it in the safe. Father John would have no excuse to get too close.
As she approached the lodge, a figure emerged from behind a row of trees. She recognized Julia and waved, but Julia ignored her and went in. Petra followed.
Father John, wearing his standard black robe, was standing in front of a table covered in a red cloth, facing Julia. ‘There’ll be no way out for you if you refuse. This is your last chance to prove yourself. I guarantee you’ll regret it …’ His mouth fell open as he spotted Petra standing in the doorway.
He recovered himself quickly. ‘Miss Minx, welcome. Miss Broselli, our beautiful bride-to-be, is filled with panic at the thought of what lies ahead. I have been telling her she need not worry. With my help and the help of you all this afternoon, she will do her penance and prove herself worthy to make her marriage vows tomorrow.’
Before Petra could process Father John’s words, the door opened and Florian came in leading seven women: Gina, Betta, Julia’s school friend Roz, Ana and Raquel, Pam and Joanna. They broke into smiles when they saw Julia.
‘Welcome, ladies, to my humble tabernacle. Please take a seat,’ Father John said. ‘Julia, our chief penitent, will sit here at the front.’
Petra debated whether to sit near the front where she would be close to the action or at the back which would give her a good overview of the proceedings. She decided on the latter.
Father John positioned himself behind the table in the middle of which stood a carved casket with a domed lid. He opened his arms wide as if to embrace all the women at once and began to speak.
‘This is an important afternoon: the prelude to tomorrow’s ceremony in which I will unite this young lady, Julia Broselli, and Max De Witt in holy matrimony.’ He pointed at Julia’s bowed head.
‘Julia has come here today to cleanse herself in preparation for tomorrow’s sacred rite. To do this she needs you to accompany her on the path of righteousness. I call on you all to give her your complete support and to obey her commands.’
Petra noted that Gina was the only one besides herself who was paying any attention to Father John’s carefully scripted words. The others were watching Florian who was letting his eyes move slowly from one girl to the next. He deliberately made eye contact for a few seconds, making each member of the group feel special.
Father John opened the casket, took out what appeared to be an incense burner and began to swing it in a wide arc. The rather sickly smell reminded Petra of her childhood. Then, as the scent filled the air, she began to detect more complex layers beneath the incense. She closed her eyes and drew a few deep breaths, trying to distinguish the various aromas in the heady mix.
After a few more swings, he handed the incense burner to Florian. He drew himself up to his full height and began to rant like a fire and brimstone priest. ‘Who is ready to support Julia? Who is ready to confess? Who is ready to join the true penitents? Are you? What about you? And you?’
With each question, he pointed his finger at one of the girls.
‘Many of you, I can see, are ready and willing to take the next step towards enlightenment. Some are still hesitant,’ Father John continued with a blazing look at Petra.
Annoyingly, she felt herself blush. What the hell?
Gina jumped to her feet. ‘I’m ready, Father John.’
‘And me, take me!’ Betta shrieked, imploring Florian.
Ana and Raquel were next, then Roz. Finally Pam and Joanna stood up. To avoid drawing attention to herself, Petra got to her feet as well. Julia was still sitting with her head bent low.
Father John began to chant in cadence. Florian continued to watch the women and swing the incense burner. The chanting coupled with the repetitive motion of the incense burner and the heavy perfume was becoming hypnotic.
Then Father John started to holler: ‘Children of sin, the time has come to cleanse your minds. Look at me. Watch my eyes. You know what guilty pleasures you enjoy. Think of them now, every one of them, food, love, sex … The more you can visualize the objects of your desires and explore in detail the feelings they arouse, the easier it will be to achieve absolution.’
His tone was so melodramatic that Petra found it hard not to laugh. At the same time, the picture of a large box of dark mint chocolates imprinted itself on her brain and she turned the laugh into a cough.
Then unbidden came a series of images like hallucinations as she remembered Romeo and other boyfriends over the years. Yet more thoughts followed – sensual, erotic even – thoughts of swimming naked with Don León in Spain, of responding to James Freedy’s advances the previous summer, then of Florian who looked like an angel and could kiss like the devil arousing just the kind of feelings and desires Father John was asking them to evoke. What the fuck was happening?
Petra shook her head and sneezed twice. She could have sworn there was a charge in the air that hadn’t been there before. Gina appeared to be in a trance; Betta and the rest of the girls were swooning over Florian like groupies at a rock concert. Just as she expected them to storm the stage, Father John took a leather-tipped gavel from his box and turned to strike a heavy brass gong that hung on the wall behind him. The sound reverberated around the room for several minutes.
He swung round with a face like
an avenging Fury. ‘God has expressed his anger at the nature of your thoughts. Yet he is willing to forgive you through me.’ Once again he pointed at Julia. ‘Child of sin, arise. Bring these your handmaidens robes of purity that they may enter the fold.’
Petra stared at Father John in disbelief. How much longer was he going to keep up this pantomime? And why was Julia going along with it?
Julia got up and walked down the aisle between the benches. She vanished behind the curtain and reappeared carrying a pile of pale blue robes. As she returned to the front, she handed a robe to each girl. The last one she kept for herself.
When she reached the altar, she put her robe on the bench, crossed her arms and stripped off her T-shirt in one rapid movement. Underneath she was naked. Quickly, she pulled the robe over her head. Then she addressed the group for the first time.
‘So that we may receive absolution, take off your sullied garments as I have done.’ She spoke in a monotone and kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
Despite the lack of enthusiasm in Julia’s voice, the girls shed their tops almost as one. Reluctantly, Petra followed suit. She was wearing her bikini under her clothes, thus denying Father John and Florian even a glimpse of lacy underwear or naked flesh. In any case, she knew that wasn’t their game. Power and domination, yes; voyeurism, no.
It wasn’t over yet. Father John placed a hand on Julia’s shoulder and said, ‘Bring your handmaidens to me.’
Like an automaton, Julia reached for the two girls closest to her and pushed them towards the altar. She beckoned to the remaining five who shuffled forward. When all the girls were lined up, she indicated that they should kneel.
To avoid being singled out for special treatment by Father John, Petra hurried to join them. In any case, she wanted to see what the self-styled priest was going to do.
First, he waved his hands over the line of girls and intoned a few words in Latin that he might have borrowed from a traditional Catholic service. Then he approached each one in turn, lifted her up and hugged her to his chest. Petra was last in line. He picked her up and held her close. A frisson went through her as Florian caught her eye over Father John’s shoulder and puckered his lips.
Suddenly Petra had the urge to hoot with laughter. The whole afternoon was a farce.
Chapter
18
The Higher Ground tour was into its fourth day. Henny knew because he was counting the hours until he could unload the English girls, Megan and Hilary. Fucking menaces. He wished he’d never set eyes on them at Cape Town Airport. Never had he had so much trouble with a Higher Ground group. It’s not my fault, he assured himself. He had applied exactly the same principles as on previous tours.
For the first couple of days, he let the girls help him and the South African driver with the chores if they wanted to but didn’t insist. He dished out smiles and praise, and kept as calm as he knew how. Then he stepped up the pressure. As soon as he did, it was clear that Megan and Hilary weren’t going to play ball.
‘We haven’t paid good money to work our butts off,’ Megan snapped.
‘You’re the roadie. We’ll offer our help if and when we feel like it,’ Hilary added.
When they reached the Namibian border, Henny sent the driver back to Cape Town by bus, on the pretext of a family emergency. With no one else to help, they’d have to muck in.
The establishment of a daily routine that would keep tour participants fully occupied was the first step in a carefully orchestrated plan to reduce their independence until they reached a sublime state of subservience to the cause. Henny believed as fervently as the Master that this was the only way to restore hope for the future.
After checking them into the Fish River Canyon campsite, he had called a meeting and spoken to them about teamwork. His plan was to create two teams of three, with Megan and Hilary on different teams. Each team would be given specific tasks.
But Megan and Hilary refused to be separated. He had almost concluded that their bitching and moaning was not worth the advantage to be gained when suddenly they saw the light. Now he realized he had been outsmarted. Instead of two manageable teams, he had two pig-headed team leaders who wouldn’t comply, and he couldn’t watch both of them at the same time.
As he led the six girls along a narrow trail at the bottom of the canyon, Henny scratched his head. The fifteen days to go before they reached the village where the girls would begin their induction into African tribal life stretched ahead of him like a river flowing endlessly to the sea. For the first time since he had joined Higher Ground, he felt like throwing in the towel.
Chapter
19
Carlo was lying on his bed, his arms behind his head.
‘Ah, the confessee returns! All sins washed away, I hope,’ he said as Petra walked in.
He wrinkled his nose and sniffed like a bloodhound. ‘Do I detect cloves, cinnamon, spice? A perfumed candle shop perhaps? No, something more like marijuana with a hint of incense. Am I right?’
‘Sometimes, annoyingly, you are.’
‘Not always?’
‘No, I’d say about fifty percent of the time, but today you’ve hit the nail on the head. Father John and Florian had an incense burner that definitely contained something much headier than incense. I’ve just been to one of the weirdest ceremonies ever. You won’t believe it.’
‘Try me.’
Petra sat on the edge of her bed and launched into a description of Father John’s afternoon-long charade. She was conscious how far-fetched it sounded and waited for Carlo to interrupt her with facetious remarks. Instead, he listened intently until she came to the part about Father John lifting up all the girls and embracing them.
‘You’re blushing, cara! Is there something else I should know?’
She had no intention of telling Carlo how Florian had kissed her down at the folly, nor how catching his eye that afternoon had made her feel. Instead she said, ‘I’m sure Father John had nothing on under his robe.’
‘The old so-and-so!’
‘Gina likes him.’
‘Does she now? Well, there’s no accounting for taste. What happened after that?’
‘Florian kept swinging the censer. Father John delivered a few prayers for our well-being, blessed us fervently, proclaimed that our minds were now clean and pure, and that we were ready to take the next step, whatever that means. Julia indicated that we should pick up our clothes. Then she led us behind the curtain to change. At the end it was all very decorous.’
‘How did the girls seem?’
‘Somewhat subdued and lethargic, maybe embarrassed. There was no excited chatter or discussion of what had happened. I’m feeling tired too. It was a crazily intense experience.’
‘What about Julia?’
‘As soon as she had changed, she walked straight out the door. Neither Florian nor Father John tried to stop her. Florian drove us all back in the buggy and reminded us not to be late for the rehearsal dinner.’
‘So how would you describe the afternoon?’
‘Witchcraft and group therapy mixed with sexual suggestion.’
‘A bit like my afternoon.’
Something in the way Carlo said the words rang a warning bell in Petra’s head.
‘Oh?’
‘Sandrine hauled you off for your dress fitting this morning then had me help her with a few errands. While we worked, she told me something of her family’s history. After that it was nearly lunchtime. I went looking for you at the manor house and found Uncle Tony preparing a speech for tomorrow. I suggested a few improvements, shared a sandwich with him, and tackled him about Julia.’
‘Good. What does he think?’
‘He agrees that she’s been out of sorts for the last few weeks but feels that once she gets away on honeymoon with Max, everything will be OK.’
‘Just what I’ve been sayi
ng. Where are they going?’
‘To Europe, starting with Italy of course. Sandrine has arranged everything.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘Right. Now comes the witchcraft part of my story.’
‘I’m not sure I want to hear this. I presume Sandrine is the witch.’
‘Witch, wizard, and everything in between. She told me one of her forebears built a folly and used to hold candlelit séances there. I was curious and you weren’t around, so I borrowed a golf cart and went to see it. It’s a strange structure …’ Carlo’s voice tailed off.
‘And?’
‘Sandrine said she was going to swim there this afternoon and I figured it might be an opportunity to make her laugh as I promised I would.’
Petra groaned. ‘I thought it would be something like that. Carlo, sometimes you’re despicable!’
‘Not me, cara. Somebody beat me to it, although he wasn’t making her laugh – at least not until I showed up.’
‘What do you mean? Who?’
‘Diego.’
‘Ugh!’
‘My sentiments exactly. A beautiful body like Sandrine’s exposed to the ministrations of a Neanderthal. I could hear him grunting as I walked down the ramp.’
‘Enough! I don’t want to know.’
‘You haven’t heard the best yet! There she was gloriously naked, lying on her stomach on a stone bench that was covered in a white towel. Diego was concentrating on her buttocks …’
Petra covered her ears.
‘No, not like that. I admit he was naked too, but he wasn’t doing anything with it. In fact, it seemed rather insignificant. He was busy drawing circles and weird symbols on her backside with a black pen.’
Petra took her hands away from her ears.
‘He turned her over and drew circles round her breasts …’
‘With his pen?’
‘No, with his fingers. Then he clasped his hands together and ran them down to her navel. It was like some sort of ritual. He massaged her stomach and moved on down. That’s when Sandrine saw me watching from the archway and shouted at me to join them. In her book, two is better than one.’