Purged

by Peter Laws

  ‘A few times.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘A little aloof. Had that big-city London sneer, you know? You’ve got it a bit. No offence.’

  ‘None taken, peasant.’

  Miller tapped his hand on the desk. ‘I just think she used to look down at us locals. Like we’d only just learnt how to piss in a bucket and not on the floor.’

  ‘And was she the type to write kiss, kiss on a text message?’

  Miller thought about it. ‘Not really.’

  Matt ran his finger along the top of the Post-it notes, pressing them in place. ‘Either someone helped convert her. Or she didn’t even write this message, and she didn’t destroy her own paintings. If that’s what’s happened here, then I want to know why someone would go to all this trouble to make us think these two women died happy and content and at peace with God.’

  ‘You want to know what’s bugging me?’ Miller said.

  Matt nodded.

  ‘Why you happen to have had two emails with these poor girls’ faces on them when you don’t even come from round here.’

  ‘Well, you heard Chris. He says he didn’t send them.’

  Miller gave an odd little nod. ‘I heard him.’

  ‘But you’re saying you don’t believe him?’

  Miller waited for a moment before speaking. And when he finally did it was quiet and low. ‘I’m saying I’m not sure what to believe right now.’ Miller held Matt’s gaze for a beat too long, then pushed his seat back. ‘I’ll go and tell him he can go home.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Matt didn’t expect to see any cars when he got back to the cottage but sitting there, catching the falling blossom of the trees, was a red Honda Civic. The windscreen was peppered with the exploded bodies of motorway insects.

  Frowning, he swung his car to a sharp stop.

  Halfway up the path, he could already hear the muffled laughter from inside, big old booming peals of sound that felt way too harsh and deep for this setting. It grew louder and more irritating when he swung the front door wide open and headed into the lounge.

  ‘Daddy?’ Amelia said with a quick jerk of her head, clearly shocked to see him.

  ‘Hiya, Prof.’ It was Billy, sitting on the couch with one hand resting on the curve of his gut, the other waving hello.

  Matt ducked under the long wooden beam in the ceiling and scooped Amelia into his arms. Once she was settled into him, Matt nodded a reluctant greeting. ‘Billy.’

  He didn’t stand but creaked forward a little from the sofa and reached his huge brick of a mitt out to shake. He may have been a paid-up member of the Happy Jesus Gang but he squeezed like he could break fingers.

  Just letting you know I could mess you up, Prof. Just putting that out there.

  Matt slid his hand free, clammy with Billy juice.

  ‘Amelia, where’s Mummy?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Here!’ Wren hollered then appeared from the kitchen holding a flowery, plastic tray. It had a pile of cupcakes on it. She blew a little breath from her pursed lips, clearly relieved to see him.

  ‘So we have a guest?’ Matt said.

  She smiled and shrugged at the same time, setting the tray on the coffee table.

  ‘Actually,’ Billy said. ‘I’m here for little Amelia.’

  Oh, are you now?

  ‘She was at the baptisms this morning and she asked a few questions about it. Since I’m the youth worker I thought I’d pop down to fill her in.’

  Matt sat down, perching Amelia on his lap. She grabbed a cake from the table and started chewing it far more slowly than normal, as though she wanted something constantly in her mouth, so she wouldn’t have to speak.

  Matt shifted her a little on his knee and spoke gently. ‘You asked about baptism?’

  Her eyes flashed something that he didn’t often see in her. Guilt. Palpable, pulsing guilt. ‘I was just curious. That’s all. No big deal.’

  ‘Hey, now come on, little one.’ Billy slowly peeled the paper case from his cake. Sucking each finger with a horrible sounding pop. ‘You don’t have to be scared of your dad.’

  Matt glared at him. ‘She’s not scared.’

  Billy raised his eyebrows and prodded his cake towards Amelia. ‘Oh, I dunno. Maybe she thinks you’ll be angry. That she’s interested in this, I mean.’

  What is this? Matt thought. ‘Well, that’s fine if she’s interested. Not a problem.’ He smiled at her, and squeezed her towards him like he often did, when they sat watching astronomy shows on National Geographic. But this time, she didn’t squeeze back. ‘If you want to learn more about it, then it’s okay. I don’t mind.’

  ‘Great,’ Billy said, slapping his hand on his knee. ‘Then fire away, Amelia.’

  She chewed a little more, unable to look at Matt. Then she visibly gulped. And for one sharp buzzing moment Matt knew that Billy was right. Amelia was terrified of saying this in front of him, as though her asking about baptism was tantamount to him finding her with an eighth of cannabis in her room. Matt felt a sudden comprehensive awareness about himself. That when all was said and done, his protectiveness of his family might simply be signs that he was a selfish prick with metaphysical hang-ups.

  ‘It’s okay, Amelia,’ Matt said. ‘Ask your questions.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Why did you push them under three times?’

  ‘Aha! Great question! One for each member of the Trinity. Father, Son and Holy Ghost. And you always push them under the water. Total immersion.’ He lifted his hand and swooped it down. ‘That’s how you baptise someone. The original Greek word for baptism is Baptizo.’

  ‘Sounds like a super hero.’

  ‘It does, you’re right. It means to dip or immerse. That’s exactly how Jesus was baptised too. And everybody else in the New Testament. And do you want to know something fascinating?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s done that way because it’s supposed to symbolise going into the grave. Of us dying to our old selves. We purge the old and when we come up we’re born again. So those people who just sprinkle water on the forehead are chumps.’ Billy winked at her. ‘You don’t look like a chump to me. No, you’re very intelligent for your age. A bright little button, you are.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She looked delighted at the interest he was taking in her.

  Wren had sunk into the sofa opposite. Matt could see her cheekbones were more prominent than usual, which meant she was clenching her jaw.

  Just then Matt heard another car pulling up outside. He leant his head back to look out of the window to see a Land Rover with some teenagers from the church youth group in it.

  Wren got up. ‘Lucy’s home,’ she said.

  For some reason everyone stopped speaking, waiting for the door to open. Billy sat patiently, eyes on the door, then back to the buttercream he was licking from his fingernails. The door rattled and in walked Lucy, with a lollipop in her mouth and a book under her arm. She stopped sucking when everyone turned in her direction.

  ‘Ooo, cake.’ She reached over and grabbed one.

  ‘Did you have a good time at church?’ Billy said.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks for organising it. Pizzas were amazing.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ Billy laughed.

  ‘Mum,’ she said, heading for the stairs, ‘I just need to charge my phone. Is that okay?’

  Wren nodded, probably wondering why she was even asking permission. Lucy never normally did that. She hurried up the stairs and they all listened to the bedroom door close.

  Billy gave Matt a smile and was, he noticed, not just sitting in the chair, but lazing into it, so utterly at home that he might scratch his balls at any moment and switch on the TV.

  ‘So why not babies?’ Amelia asked. ‘Why don’t you baptise them?’

  ‘Because they wouldn’t know what’s going on. Heck, a baby doesn’t even know how to ask for a Farley’s rusk, never mind salvation from the Lord.’ He giggled for a long time after that. ‘We wait till people are old
enough to choose God for themselves, which is way more sensible. You saw today how meaningful it is to people. It can change a person.’

  Wren was sitting up now, leaning forward. ‘Change how?’

  ‘It gives them a fresh start. It fills them with the Holy Spirit. Baptism plucks you from the kingdom of darkness and plants you in the city of light. And I mean, literally.’

  Amelia’s eyes were widening a little. ‘Wow.’

  Billy nodded quickly, his triple chin expanding with each flick of the head.

  ‘I’m confused.’ Matt rolled his tongue across the inside of his lips. ‘Most Protestants see baptism as just a symbol. That the new creation stuff starts at conversion, and the baptism just shows it off to the world.’

  Amelia looked confused.

  ‘Like a wedding ring, Amelia,’ Matt went on. ‘A wedding ring doesn’t make you married, does it? It’s a symbol that you just got married. And baptism’s a symbol that someone’s become a Christian. Is that not what you believe, Billy?’

  Billy pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly. ‘Maybe you should give the dominical ordinances of Jesus more credit, Professor.’

  Matt gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘So you’re saying it’s baptism that makes someone a Christian?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m saying Jesus commanded us to baptise. Matthew 28, verse 19. The great commission. It’s there in black and white. It’s not optional and never has been.’

  Wren stayed quiet, listening and sipping her tea.

  ‘So am I too young to be baptised?’ Amelia almost whispered the words. Her eyes were fixed on Billy, avoiding Matt’s eye.

  ‘Oh, you’re old enough, alright. Mature little thing like you.’ He spoke with half-shut eyes. ‘Makes sense to get baptised as quick as you can though, Amelia. You want to go to heaven when you die, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And who wants to go to hell, right?’

  Her face dropped a little. ‘I don’t want to go there.’

  ‘Er … right,’ Matt said, lifting Amelia off and standing up. ‘I reckon we’ll have to wrap this little pow-wow up.’

  Amelia raised her eyebrows. ‘What? Are we going somewhere?’

  ‘Yes we are,’ Matt said. ‘We’re going to the Monster Trucks.’

  Amelia’s head spun in Wren’s direction. ‘Mummy? Are we?’

  It would have been the first Wren had heard of it, but she nodded like she’d planned it all week. ‘Yep. Monster Trucks. Go and grab your stuff.’

  ‘I guess that’s my cue to leave is it?’ Billy said.

  ‘Yes it is,’ Matt nodded.

  Billy pushed himself to his feet then reached down towards Amelia. She wasn’t always that confident with other adults. For whatever reason she’d often turn into a timid little rabbit around grown-ups she didn’t know. But she slapped her free hand into Billy’s like they were old pals.

  ‘If you ever want to talk more about this,’ he said, ‘then here’s my card. My door’s always open. And remember. Don’t sit on the fence with baptism. You should go for it before it’s too late. You never know what might happen. Life is so, so short.’

  Amelia went to lift the card from his hand and Billy held it just out of her reach, making her stand on her tiptoes. She laughed and so did he. Wren leant in and plucked the card from his fingers, ‘I’ll look after that, thank you very much. Now go on, Amelia. Tell your sister we’re leaving in five minutes.’

  ‘Yay,’ she said and headed up the stairs.

  Billy walked towards the door, which Matt was already holding open. ‘Well, I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to talk.’ He slapped his bouncer hand against Matt’s back, hard enough to bring up a lung. Then Billy stepped out into the sun. ‘Glorious day, isn’t it?’

  To Matt’s surprise, Wren followed Billy outside, so he went out too.

  ‘Can I have a quick word, please Billy?’ she said.

  ‘’Course,’ his eyes flashed. ‘Are you interested in baptism too?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘How about you just back off a bit.’

  Her tone was matter-of-fact, but it still seemed to shock him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to come in here and start telling my daughter where she might go when she dies.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’

  ‘I’m serious. This church stuff’s new to her and I don’t want her being press-ganged into some religious ritual.’

  Billy dropped his mouth and shook his head. ‘Ritual? You think I’m talking about a ritual? I’m talking about saving her soul.’

  ‘You heard her, Billy,’ Matt said. ‘Do not threaten my daughter with hell again.’

  ‘Threaten? But she’s almost at the age of accountability.’

  Wren frowned. ‘The what?’

  Matt whistled, half in amusement and half in shock. ‘Some people think that kids automatically go to heaven when they die. Until they reach a certain age and they become—’

  ‘Accountable,’ Billy finished his sentence. ‘Amelia’s what … seven? She’s getting old enough. She’ll be a woman soon enough—’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Wren glared at him.

  ‘—and she’ll have to account for her sins when she dies.’

  Wren shook her head. ‘You’re telling me kids go to heaven when they die, unless they reach a certain age? Then they go to hell?’

  ‘Of course … unless they’re baptised. It’s not rocket science.’

  She threw up her hands. ‘Then why don’t you just kill every kid before they reach seven and be done with it? Surely that’s the most humane thing to do.’

  Billy said nothing, just held her gaze for a while, like what she had said was perfectly reasonable. ‘All I’m saying is that your daughter must be baptised one day. She has to be. And so has Lucy.’

  Both Wren and Matt spoke the same words at pretty much the same time. ‘No they don’t.’

  Billy took a step back, looking like he’d just bumped into Fred and Rose West. ‘This is like neglect, you know? You’re depriving your child of living for ever.’

  ‘Listen to yourself,’ Wren said.

  ‘But keeping them from it. That’s like … abuse.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ Matt snapped.

  Billy’s mouth dropped a little. ‘Well, if little Amelia wants to come to my house to talk about God then you can’t stop her. My door’s always open for girls like her.’

  ‘Oh, I bet it is,’ Wren said.

  ‘What on earth is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Alright,’ Matt said. ‘Just go home, Billy. Right now.’

  Billy didn’t speak. He just looked up at the second-floor windows, then down at both of them. ‘You’re just a couple of sad lonely people aren’t you? Kings of your own little world. What’s wrong? Hasn’t life been kind to you? Oh and Mrs. Hunter? You know this won’t go well for your getting the building contra—’

  ‘Oh, fuck off,’ Wren said. ‘And stay away from my daughter.’

  The two of them turned back to the cottage and when they got inside, Matt kicked the door shut with the back of his heel. Matt went to the window to watch Billy squeeze into his Civic and drive off. Though he kept looking back at the house, driving slowly.

  Matt turned round slowly and caught Wren’s eye. ‘Well, that went well.’

  The girls were already bounding down the stairs. From the looks of it they were oblivious to what had just happened outside. Amelia had her camera slung round her neck along with a little pair of binoculars she used for stargazing.

  ‘Monster trucks!’ Amelia said. ‘Cars. Will. Explode!’

  The girls ran on ahead and started to climb into the car while Wren and Matt held back for a second on the path. Both of them a little breathless.

  ‘Can you believe that?’ Wren said. There was an undeniable trembling in her voice. ‘How he pushed that on her? She’s nine years old, for crying out loud.’

  ‘Well,
I think he got the message.’

  ‘Are all Christians like this? Were you like that?’ she said, then before he could say anything she hurried to the car and opened up the driver’s side, eyes not seeming to blink. She didn’t let him answer her question. In all likelihood, she just didn’t want to know.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Matt rolled over in the bed and pulled the pillow around his skull for a minute, as if it would help. But his ears kept on ringing. The last time they’d buzzed like this was when he’d been to a Metallica concert in his late twenties. The chest-quivering roar of the Monster Trucks had climbed deep into his head and twanged away at every cord and sinew in there. They sold ear defenders up there, but when he got to the counter the bored teen at the till told him there were only three pairs left. So he dished them out to the girls and took a hit for the team.

  So Wren had filtered out the high-pitched whine legacy and had already fallen asleep. But not him. Yet. It wasn’t just the ringing that kept him awake. The more time he spent in this cottage, this village, the less he was sleeping.

  The red digits of the clock flashed, telling him it was 1 a.m. Ears buzzed as he sank back into the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling. It was bathed in moonlight and the shadow of branches that scraped at the white plaster above him.

  He tried to filter out the voices that rode the hum in his ear. Relentless ones that asked him questions incessantly, demanding an answer now. Right now.

  – Where are Tabitha and Nicola and Isabel?

  All three-syllable names he noticed. Irrelevant perhaps, but of major intrigue at this time of night.

  – Is there a killer out there, lurking?

  Weirdly, the answer that kept coming back was in one single word that kept relentlessly tugging at him, like a kid who spotted the chocolates at the checkouts and wanted his dad to buy them.

  Verecundus.

  He whispered the word a few times to accentuate the different syllables and sounds. Then ran through the definition in his mind. To feel shame, bashful, shy or modest. Or for something to be worthy of reverence.