At the table, Seed asks the sisters to shuffle around a little to make room for our guests, and she explains that today is a special day, because, on a visit to the Elders’ dorm this afternoon, she found Fern well enough to join us for tea in the dining room. Among our number, words of gratitude are shared, but this joy is lost on our dear old founder, who sits in her assigned seat at the opposite end of the table, her posture a little slumped as she casts docile eyes about without understanding. We give thanks for the gifts we have received.
‘Sisters,’ Seed says. ‘Firstly, let me apologise for my absence over these past two days. The loss of our sister Robyn hit me hard, and I needed time to reflect and repair. These have been the most troubling of times, for every one of us here at Two Cross Farm. But I believe our fortunes are about to turn again, for providence has sent us Pip and Olive and Beebee.’
I glance over at Regine, who is suddenly pale-faced, shocked into silence – as am I. I want to shout out, no! I want to save Seed from herself, for she’s surely taking leave of her senses, making reckless decisions that will affect every one of us. Whether it’s intentional or not, Seed does not look in my direction at all, but instead gestures towards the tiny family, like Jesus casting his hands over the loaves and fish, and it occurs to me that now, for the first time in many weeks, every place setting, every cross, is occupied.
A new thought appears to cross Seed’s face, and she asks, ‘Pip, tell me, how old are you?’
Pip raises her eyebrows, surprised by the personal question, I think. ‘I’m thirty-three,’ she replies, and Seed smiles, widely and brightly, like a child presented with a longed-for gift.
‘And we are thirty-three once more,’ she says. ‘We are at full strength, my sisters, and together we will flourish!’
Regine and I lock eyes again, and when I turn back to Seed the euphoria in her open expression sends terror to the very core of me. With a jolt, I recall a dreadful time when I’d seen that expression once before.
It was almost thirty years ago, right before she threw herself into the flames.
36. CELINE
Present day
After an hour’s surveillance, hiding out in the riverside hedge at the back of Two Cross Farm, Una gives the nod, and Celine drops down at the side of the large greenhouse, careful to stay in the shadows.
She’s still twitchy, Celine knows, having left countless messages on Aston’s phone, knowing that he’s unlikely to respond for a while, tied up as he is interrogating Harry Glass.
‘You know we’re breaking the law, trespassing like this,’ Una whispers beside Celine, passing her the small binoculars. ‘Dave Aston will never ask me to help out again.’
Celine raises the binoculars and trains her vision on the rear windows to the commune’s main living room, where the curtains are only partially drawn. Through the open French doors, Celine can see the fire is lit, despite the mild evening, and they know Seed and Pip are in that room, because they’ve already spotted them entering with a tea tray before vanishing from view behind the curtain panel. As far as they can tell, the two women are alone, the lights of the upstairs landing having gone on some time ago. Where are Olive and Beebee now? Have they already put them to bed, or are they in the living room too, out of view behind those pulled drapes?
‘Aston will understand,’ Celine hisses. ‘This is an emergency. We couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, Una. Pip and the girls could be in danger. If I’m right about Seed—’
Una brings a finger to her lips. Edging around the greenhouse now, past compost mounds half-shrouded in moonlight, Celine feels a tug on her arm as Una cautions her once again to go slow, not to rush in.
‘We don’t want to blow it now,’ she whispers. ‘With any luck Dave will have picked up my message – and, if he has, he’ll be on his way. Just hold back a minute, OK?’
Celine snatches her arm away, fear making her prickly. ‘You’ve already made me wait long enough!’ It’s taking everything in her power not to break into a run and just launch herself through the crack in the door, to wrestle Pip and the girls out of that place for good. Yes, Aston has Harry Glass at the station; yes, it looks as though Vanessa’s killer has been found. But that’s not what’s at stake here. If Seed is as unhinged as Celine believes she could be, they may all be in danger – not just Pip and the girls but every woman under that roof. ‘It’s gone ten,’ she says, trying to keep her voice level, her focus fixed on the back of the house. ‘You know they all turn in at nine o’clock. We should rush them now! Take them by surprise!’
‘What about Olive and Beebee?’ Una says. ‘If they’re in another room, any aggression on our part could put them at risk. I say we try to reason with Seed, explain that we’re here because we care about Pip – not because we fear her. This is supposed to be a peaceful community – no one’s going to make this easy for us if we use force, Celine.’
Celine breathes deeply, as she tries to rein in her fear and rage. ‘OK, we’ll do it your way. But we do it now.’
Once again, Una checks her mobile phone, and, finding no new messages, she finally concedes. ‘Right. We’re gonna stay in the shadows. See the log store at the end of the path? On my word, sprint to the far side of it. We’ll be able to make it across the lawn in one hit from there. So long as no one’s watching from the upstairs windows, they shouldn’t see us in the dark.’
Celine follows her instructions to the letter, and moments later they’re directly outside the living room, edging their way along the wall until they reach the spot where the drawn curtains run out and the French doors open on to a clear view of this small portion of the path, lit up by the interior lights. They stand, side-by-side, their backs against the living room windows, silently assessing, waiting for the right moment to make their presence known.
‘What do you feel about the place so far?’ they hear Seed ask. ‘I think you could bring a lot to our community. We have plenty of women here who would benefit from your skills; you’d be making a difference to people’s lives, young and old.’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t practised my physiotherapy for a while. I’m really rusty,’ Pip replies. ‘I haven’t worked for five or six years.’
‘But can you imagine yourself here?’ Seed asks.
There’s a short pause before Pip’s voice drifts towards them. ‘I can. I love how you and the women organise yourselves in terms of labour and hierarchy. Also that the group has you as a mentor, but not a dictator.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Seed replies, a smile in her sonorous voice. ‘There are rules, Pip. We have a very firm Code of Conduct here, and of course if you decide to stay it would be on the understanding that you subscribe to that Code.’
‘Of course.’
‘You’ll be leaving a lot behind. We don’t get to come and go here – that’s how we maintain our equality. No one woman has privilege over the next; no one gets to keep more from their old life than another. It’s a fresh start, and it’s the bedrock of who we are. Are you ready to embrace all of the rules? Because, if you’re not, that’s OK. You and your daughters will just pack up in the morning and head on your way, in peace, and we’ll open the vacancy to the next woman on our waiting list.’
Oh, she’s good, Celine thinks. Smooth. More concerning is that Pip sounds deadly serious – could she really be considering Two Cross Farm as an option, or is she simply playing the game?
‘What about the girls?’ Pip asks, her voice small.
There’s a delay in Seed’s answer, and the sound of movement in the room, of the fire grate rattling and another log being dropped on with a crackle.
‘I’ve spoken with my fellow sisters,’ she says. ‘And we have decided, in this rarest of occasions, to embrace you all. Your unexpected arrival marks our return to thirty-three at a time when we are desperate for stability. I believe the presence of children will focus our sisters, and give us renewed hope.’
‘But the rules—’ Pip starts to say, her voice growing shak
y with emotion.
‘When I say embrace you all, I mean you will be giving your daughters up to become the children of all. Here, you can’t “own” your children in the way of the outside world. Here they will have thirty-one mothers. If they stay, you would have to surrender your special status. Or you can leave them with someone outside.’
For a moment, all Celine can hear is the hiss and snap of the fire and her own shallow breathing.
‘I don’t know if I could give them up like that,’ Pip replies. She hesitates before continuing. ‘My sister is too busy. They love their aunt, but I couldn’t ask her to take them. She’s already helped to bring up one set of girls – she won’t want to take on another. It wouldn’t be right to ask her.’
The words hit Celine like a physical pain, and, afraid, she turns to look at Una. Does Pip mean that? Is she really thinking about this, or is she just reeling Seed in? Cautiously, Celine inches along until she can see a small slice of detail through a gap in the drapes. Pip is sitting beside Seed on the sofa, the only light in the room cast from the full flames of the fire. On the coffee table before them is the tea tray, but they’re drinking liquor from small glass tumblers, their contents glistening warmly in the glow. The scene is cosy, and yet, Celine senses, taut with danger.
Pip is gazing into the flames with an expression of deep sadness. ‘The girls need me.’
Seed lays a hand on her forearm. ‘And they would still have you. But these women need you too,’ she says. ‘You could work wonders here, Pip. And just think: no more pleasing others; no more fear, or responsibility, or oppression. No more wondering what mood your husband will be in each night; no more trickery around money and possessions and rights. Here we only exist for the community, for each other. You want that kind of equality, don’t you? Here, you – the three of you – could have it all. You could shed your material shackles, and, at the same time, have everything.’
Una nudges Celine, holding up her mobile phone to show her the text that has just come in from Dave Aston:
Tried calling you but straight to ansaphone. Need to know – in residents book did you spot the name SANDY? Call me straight back? Also have new breakthrough from forensics – we WILL be searching 2XF first thing tomorrow. Call me back! D.
A second later, he follows with:
PS Harry Glass released – insufficient evidence to keep him.
‘What the hell …?’ Celine mouths.
‘Shit,’ Una whispers, keying in a swift reply. What about Falmer?
Dave: Still no sign of him.
Una stares at the screen for a moment, before signing off: Can’t speak now. At 2XF. Will call soon to explain.
Through the glass they see Pip knock back her drink. On the mantelpiece, an earthenware jug is filled with garden flowers, its shadow thrown large against the wall by the flickering light of an old-fashioned oil lamp, giving the room the feel of another age. Seed takes the empty glass from her, placing it on the low table as Pip’s expression crumples and she brings shaking hands to her face. Without hesitation, Seed draws her close, cradling her head against her shoulder, caressing her hair. It’s a strangely intimate, almost maternal scene, the two women lit up only by the light of the flickering flames in the grate.
A swift reply from Dave appears.
GET OUT NOW. We’ve matched an original fingerprint from Vanessa’s 2005 records to SEED.
But when Una holds it up to show Celine she can barely take in the information, so fixed is she on her youngest sister and that strange woman beyond the glass doors.
‘You know you’re safe here?’ Seed says. ‘You and the girls.’
Just as Celine decides she cannot hold back for a moment longer, there’s a creak from the inner doorway and Bramble appears.
‘Seed!’ she remonstrates, looking at her watch. ‘Why are you both still up?’
In one burst, Celine and Una push through the French doors, and Seed springs back, away from Pip who glares at them in wet-eyed surprise.
‘Get over here, Pip,’ Celine commands. When Pip shakes her head, Celine strides across the room, grabbing her sister by the wrist and dragging her to standing. ‘Now!’ she yells. ‘Where are the girls?’
‘They’re asleep in Bramble’s room – they’re only a few doors away, down the hall.’ Pip shakes her wrist free and stands reluctantly at her sister’s shoulder.
Seed is rising too, backing away, a cornered expression in her eyes. ‘What do you want?’ she asks, her fingers fumbling for the fire poker at the hearthside, which she raises in threat.
‘Seed, no,’ Bramble says, stepping towards her. ‘No. You know that’s not the answer.’
‘I thought this was a peaceful community?’ Una says, calmly. ‘Seed, you don’t want things to end like this, do you?’
‘What do you mean, “end”?’ Bramble asks, and this time it is she who looks fearful.
‘Please,’ Seed implores, lowering the poker, sinking into the fireside chair, apparently exhausted. ‘Please just leave us alone.’
Celine takes a step forward, closing the gap between the women in the room, as Una hangs back by the doors with Pip. Shadows rise and fall with the increased movement of the fire, the spring breeze through the open doors feeding its flames. ‘Pip is my sister,’ she says, addressing Seed, and it is clear from the confused tilt of her head that she had no idea. ‘Just like Vanessa was.’
‘Bramble?’ Seed says, looking suddenly young and vulnerable – no longer the imposing creature she had seemed on that first sighting barely two weeks ago, as she confidently addressed the press crowd outside Two Cross Farm. She’s weeping now, tears streaking her cheeks, causing her scars to glisten white in the half-light. ‘Make them leave, Bramble. Please.’
There’s another creak in the doorway, and they all turn to see little Olive standing there in her crumpled knickers and vest, rubbing her eye sleepily with one fist, her careworn cuddly spider held limply in the other.
‘Take Olive and get her and Beebee ready to leave,’ Una directs Bramble, stopping Pip from reaching for her child. ‘She doesn’t need to hear this,’ she says with a shake of her head.
Celine is focused on Seed beside the fireplace, whose spirit seems so fractured, all hope apparently gone.
‘Now, please!’ Una demands when Bramble hesitates. The old woman blinks and nods, before leading the little girl from the room on hurried feet.
For a second no one speaks, as Celine studies Seed, wondering how the police force could have got this so wrong for such a long time. If she has correctly understood the meaning of Dave Aston’s text, he surely believes that Vanessa’s killer is here; that the person who took their beloved sister from them is Seed.
Unable to contain her rage for a moment longer, Celine lunges forward. ‘You murdered our sister!’ she yells as Una blocks her passage, her pleas for caution falling on deaf ears. When Seed doesn’t respond to the accusation, Celine’s anger rises further still and without thought she shunts Una aside so that she’s looming over the woman, demanding the truth. ‘You killed Vanessa! Won’t you even deny it?’
Seed appears unable to speak.
‘Step away, Celine,’ Una hisses, but Celine is lost to her rage.
‘And what about Susan? You know something about her death too, Seed, I’m certain of it!’ she shouts louder still, prodding Seed’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers, desperate for some kind of reaction.
Seed, once so dignified, now appears diminished in her fireside chair. The flames flicker brightly, making strange shapes of her shadowed face, and she lowers her gaze with an expression of – what? Shame? Guilt?
‘Did you kill Robyn too? And those other women – the other Founding Sisters? Where are they now? What have you done with them?’
As Celine leans in closer still, Una hooks a hand under her armpit, forcibly yanking her away. ‘Celine! This isn’t helping.’
She takes a staggering step backwards, only now remembering that Pip is with them, and she c
asts about the dimly lit room to see her sitting on the floor beside the sofa, her knees pulled tight beneath her chin. It’s what she used to do when she was little, Celine recalls in a hot flash of emotion, whenever she’d wake in the night and find Mum still gone. She’s scared, and Celine realises with remorse that it is she who is scaring her.
‘Why won’t you just tell us what you did to Vanessa?’ Celine demands wearily, sounding out the words slowly, regaining her calm. ‘Your fingerprints have been found on her clothing, Seed – and we know you were one of the last people to see her alive. Have you nothing to say?’
It’s as though the lights have just come on again behind Seed’s eyes, because suddenly she cries out in frustration, striking herself in the head with a closed fist, again and again. Pip flinches in shock, covering her face, releasing a low, horrified groan.
‘I didn’t kill Vanessa!’ Seed protests as she allows her hands to fall to her lap. ‘How could I have killed Vanessa? She was my friend; my dearest, kindest friend. I could never have hurt her.’
Celine steps back, to perch at the edge of the sofa, resting a hand on Pip’s shoulder and silently blinking across at Seed in confusion and sorrow.
‘Then who did kill her, Seed?’ Una asks, taking the facing seat beside the fireplace.
Seed nods her head once, as though some great decision has been reached.
‘I need Bramble,’ she says softly. ‘There’s too much to tell on my own.’ She lowers her head again, appearing to study her large, graceful hands.
And it’s then that Celine remembers the words of Sister Angelique, and her description of the young man who left that newborn baby on the night of Susan’s death. ‘I caught a close look at those hands,’ she’d said, ‘ – they were large, strong and elegant. Like a pianist’s …’
33 Women: A gripping new thriller about the power of women, and the lengths they will go to when pushed... Page 26