‘Well, you just see that she doesn’t,’ Father Matthew continued, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze.
‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ said Ryanne, nervously smiling once again as she basked in the man’s attention.
‘Now, off you go,’ said Father Matthew, with a gentle smile. ‘Oh, and if you see Brother John could you let him know I’m looking for him.’
‘Of course, Father Matthew,’ replied Ryanne almost glowing with pleasure that the man before her had entrusted her with a task, albeit a very minor one. ‘Brother Mark,’ she continued, nodding a polite acknowledgement to the man sat next to Tom.
For the briefest of moments, Ryanne’s eyes turned to the only other member of the religious order in the room, Brother Christopher.
‘Brother Christopher,’ she said, somewhat a little less cordially.
‘Ryanne,’ Brother Cristopher nodded slowly in reply, a look of strange uncertainty on his face before the woman turned and left the room.
Picking up on Ryanne’s odd tone, Father Mathew’s eyes pointedly followed her as she left the room before returning to a bemused Brother Christopher.
‘Don’t worry about Ryanne,’ he said, trying to reassure Brother Christopher, ‘she always was a little on the brittle side, who knows what’s upset her now.’
‘So you knew her before? Ryanne, I mean?’ asked Fran, allowing herself to be led over to the long refectory table.
Of course there was no need for anyone to clarify ‘before what’, there was only one event in living memory that was any real reference point these days; when the Dead arrived, or as Father Matthew referred to it, ‘the Fall’.
‘Oh, yes, most of those who managed to get here in those first hours were people who had worked here,’ Father Matthew replied, gallantly pulling away from the table two chairs for Jane and Fran. ‘Odelia and Ryanne had manned the gift shop together here for years… unfortunately Odelia has the habit of forgetting she’s not Ryanne’s boss anymore.’
‘And you, Father Matthew?’ asked Jane, taking the empty seat next to Peter. ‘What did you used to do here?’
‘I was the building manager,’ he replied, waiting for Fran to take her seat, ‘which was just a posh way of saying caretaker if you ask me.’
As she slipped into her seat next to Jane, Fran wondered just what had led Father Matthew from humble caretaker to saviour of his community and more importantly what was it about him that caused even the likes of Mrs Odelia Weaver to accept him in this new role.
‘Well, someone scrubs up well,’ came Tom’s not very quiet whisper from across the table, bringing Fran’s attention swiftly back to those around her.
‘What? Oh, shut up,’ mumbled Fran embarrassingly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention Tom’s comments had thrust upon her.
‘No, no,’ began Father Matthew, placing his hands on the back of Fran’s shoulders in a surprisingly parental gesture. ‘The Lord saw fit to give you that face so there’s no point pretending it’s something it’s not. No, I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept it, Fran, under all that grime and gore you’re quite an attractive woman.’
Instinctively and almost against her own control, Fran glanced over to Kai to find his eyes were already locked on hers.
‘No wonder your young man here is so tongue tied most of the time,’ Father Matthew continued, chuckling as he gave Kai a friendly wink to show he meant no harm.
Despite the less than polite reference to his stammer, Kai found it hard to hold any malice against this cheerful bear of a man who, after giving Fran’s shoulders a friendly shake, walked to the head of the table laughing all the while at his own joke.
No sooner had Father Matthew lowered himself into his seat than a doorway, smaller and far less ornate than the one they had come through, swung open and two young women entered carrying large trays of scrambled eggs, boiled greens and hot steaming potatoes.
‘Ah, there you are,’ smiled Father Matthew, welcoming the two women, one of which was black while the other was almost ghostly pale in complexion with her thick red hair hanging in a heavy braid down one shoulder, ‘and what miracles have you managed to rustle up for our visitors?’
‘Just eggs and potatoes today, Father, I’m afraid,’ replied the young black woman, as she placed a plate onto the table in front of Peter and Dave.
‘And some boiled cabbage… and seaweed,’ the red haired women added almost apologetically, looking disapprovingly from the bowls of steaming greenery she carried over to Father Matthew.
‘Hmm… hardly a miraculous surprise, Kasey,’ Father Matthew replied with soft chuckle, as he waved her forward to unload her tray.
‘I… I like scrambled eggs,’ said Peter, innocently offering his comment aloud to no one in particular.
‘That’s nice,’ smiled the woman, her eyes flitting to meet Dave’s for an unspoken confirmation of her instant assessment of Peter.
‘But I don’t like boiled eggs,’ Peter continued, reaching for a large spoon to fill his empty plate, ‘they smell funny.’
‘Peter,’ Jane gently scolded, worried the young man would come across as rude or ungrateful.
‘You’re not wrong,’ the young woman replied, placing another two plates down onto the table while giving Peter a quick conspiratorial wink. ‘I don’t like them much either.’
‘Th…Th… Thank you,’ stammered Kai, as the young black woman moved one of the heavy laden plates to within his reach.
For a brief second she looked down at Kai, pausing as she wondered if he too was like the other strange but ultimately innocent young man the table.
‘You’re welcome,’ she finally said, recognising an intelligent awareness dancing in Kai’s dark eyes. ‘I’m Lucy… welcome to St Michael’s mount.’
‘K… Kai,’ he replied, moving to offer her his hand only to realise both her hands were in use carrying the tray. ‘And th… this is Fran,’ he continued, nervously nodding across the table to the beautiful woman whose eyes always seemed to draw him to her like a moth to the flame, ‘and th.. .this is T… Tom.’
‘Now, now, Lucy,’ interrupted Father Matthew, mistakenly attributing Kai’s uneasy introductions to the embarrassment he surely felt stammering in front of new people, ‘there’ll be plenty of time for all that, let’s get our guests fed… they’ll not be going anywhere for a while just yet.’
‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ Lucy replied, nodding a quick hello to Fran and Tom before placing the last of her plates on the table.
‘Oh, by the way, Lucy,’ added Father Matthew, stopping her just as she was about to follow Kasey out of the refectory, ‘how was Scott’s catch this morning?’
‘He had quite a good haul from what I saw, Father,’ she replied, placing the large tray awkwardly under one arm as she held open the door with the other. ‘Beth’s going to help gut and get them in the smoker this morning and then he’s going back out again to Foster’s Rock to collect mussels and check on the lobster pots.’
‘Good, good,’ Father Matthew nodded. ‘We’re certainly blessed to have such a skilled fisherman in that young man of yours and… and I know he was feeling the pressure when we thought we’d lost Rod back there, so you make sure to tell him I appreciate all his hard work… we all do.’
‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ she replied, a polite but all too brief smile hinting that any words of thanks from Father Matthew would hold little comfort for the fisherman.
If he could read the true meaning of Lucy’s smile, Father Matthew showed no sign of it and in fact it seemed to Fran that he returned the young woman’s gesture with nothing but a true and honest smile of his own.
‘Now,’ Father Matthew began, looking at each of the new faces about the table in turn to ensure he had their attention.
Once he had made eye contact with each of them he glanced briefly at Brother Christopher and Mark and as if an unspoken signal passed between them, in unison they bowed their heads in prayer.
‘Lord, whose love and mercy spared
us from the great Corruption,’ said Father Matthew, his palms upraised to the heavens, ‘we give thanks and praise each day in thought, action and in deed and for the given food upon our table, we thank you… What He has granted, only He may take away.’
‘Amen,’ said Brother Christopher and Bother Mark in sombre unison before lifting their heads to look upon their religious mentor with barely concealed adoration in their eyes.
‘Eat, eat,’ urged Father Matthew, smiling when he noticed Jane had purposefully restrained Peter’s hand that held the heaped spoonful of scrambled eggs until ‘grace’ had been said.
Returning his smile of mild amusement, Jane relinquished her hold on Peter’s wrist only for the young man to immediately begin hungrily shovelling the eggs into his mouth as fast as he could manage.
‘You be careful, young man,’ chuckled Father Matthew, watching Peter gorge himself, ‘you’ll make yourself sick or choke, shoving it all in like that.’
‘Hungry,’ Peter only just managed to say around his mouthful of eggs without spraying any on the table in front of him, much to the amusement of Riley.
‘Not with your mouth full, Peter,’ Jane tutted, tapping her fingers against his arm while silencing her son’s laugh with a single disapproving look.
As Peter began to apologise, Tom briefly watched the continuing exchange before turning to Brother Mark sat next to him.
‘I want to thank you again… you know, for opening the gate last night,’ he began, ‘I know if it had been up to that Brother Gregory bloke, Fran and I’d probably be fish food by now.’
‘I… I couldn’t let you just die,’ Brother Mark replied, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him with something that Tom could only describe as shame in his eyes. ‘There’s too much death in this world as it is and I… I thought if I... I mean if God could spare just a few more from it…’
‘Well, as I said, I’m very grateful,’ Tom interrupted.
‘I’m just sorry you won’t be staying,’ said Brother Mark, idly pushing some boiled seaweed around his plate.
‘No biggy,’ shrugged Tom, knowing that unlike Max, even if the opportunity had arisen, he would not have chosen to stay after all.
‘We have a list of houses, buildings and nearby farms,’ Brother Mark continued, briefly glancing at Tom. ‘It’s not much but you should be able to find a safe haven in one of them for a while at least... you and Max.’
‘Oh, I think Max and I will be parting company,’ said Tom, glancing across to the man angrily glaring at Father Matthew while filling his belly with the man’s free food.
‘Oh,’ said Brother Mark, turning his attention solemnly back to his meal.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Tom warily began, knowing many didn’t appreciate you reminding them of a past that had most likely been ripped violently from their grasp, ‘but what did you do before all this?’
‘Policeman,’ the Brother replied in a noticeably lowered volume, at last looking up from his plate while absentmindedly pulling at his thick beard. ‘I was a constable… Marazion had been my beat for ten years… You?’
‘Taxi driver,’ Tom replied. ‘Black cab in London.’
‘Ah,’ said Brother Mark, slowly nodding as he imagined the horrors the man sat next to him must have witnessed in his escape from the capital.
For a moment the two men looked at each other, both of them wondering just what horrific twists of fate had occurred to bring them together at this particular table.
‘But you don’t represent the law here on St Michael’s mount… not anymore?’ said Tom matter-of-factly, glancing down at his own meal to skewer some potatoes onto his fork before looking back up at the man next to him, his words clearly a statement rather than a question.
‘There is only one law on St Michael’s mount,’ Brother Mark replied, with equal certainty and conviction. ‘God’s and we follow it to the letter.’
Although he deeply doubted the reality of Brother Mark’s statement, Tom purposefully held his tongue and said nothing. He knew that to argue with such intensely held beliefs was ultimately pointless; for never had a believer or non-believer been convinced by each other’s truth, it was simply something grounded within the psyche of the individual and could not be changed by argument.
After a briefly uncomfortable silence between the two men their attention returned to their food to eat in silence. Tom was just popping the last fork full of food into his mouth when he felt Bella brushing heavily against his legs under the table.
‘Sorry, girl,’ he said, leaning back to look down at the bitch whose eagerly sniffing muzzle had appeared by his lap. ‘I’m all out... I’m done.’
‘Can’t you control that mutt of yours?’ growled Max in Peter’s direction, finishing his question with an unnecessary ‘Fucking retard’ said under his breath.
‘Max,’ said Dave, glancing from his brother to Peter and then to Jane.
‘Oh, Fuck this!’ snapped Max, standing so abruptly that he caused his chair to screech across the floor behind him in the process. ‘I need some air.’
Almost instinctively Tom began to rise from his own seat, concerned the long awaited explosion from Max was about to erupt. As he stood he noticed across the table, Fran was also tensing herself ready for action.
‘Mr Harper,’ said Father Matthew, his tone calm but firm as he too slowly rose from his chair. ‘Do not cause me question the Lord’s judgement in allowing you rest and safe harbour for a few days, I will not…’
‘Fucking crazy, the lot of you!’ shouted Max, interrupting Father Matthew as he threw his arms up in angry desperation before turning to storm out of the refectory.
‘Father Matthew, I’m so…’ Dave began to apologise, anxiously rising from his chair to follow Max.
‘No, no, no,’ said Father Matthew, waving away Dave’s hurried words and halting the man’s departure, ‘you are not your brother’s keeper, Mr Harper… I mean, Dave,’ he continued, correcting himself and using his first name to show he bore him no malice for Max’s actions. ‘Believe me it is not the first time that we have had to deal with those churning with such fierce anger.’
‘And he wasn’t that pleasant to start with,’ mumbled Tom, lowering himself slowly back into his seat but not before he noticed the side of Father Matthew’s mouth twitch in what could only be called a smirk of approval.
‘Brother Christopher, go after him will you,’ instructed Father Matthew, nodding to the door through which Max had stomped.
‘Yes, Father,’ the young Brother replied, immediately jumping to his feet to carry out his mentor’s request.
‘He’ll calm down, Father,’ said Jane, ‘I’m sure he’s just coming to terms with the fact that this is only temporary…. for him, and anyway,’ she continued, idly tinkering with the position of the cutlery on her empty plate, ‘it’s not as if he can go too far.’
‘Your wife is a very pragmatic woman, Dave,’ Father Matthew replied, an intriguing twinkle glinting in his eye as he kept his gaze fixed on Jane.
‘Back out there, you have to be,’ stated Jane, jerking her head to an unseen mainland inhabited by hordes of the Dead, ‘just to stay alive.’
‘Of course,’ said Father Matthew, slowly nodding in agreement. ‘Anyway,’ he suddenly continued, his tone instantly changing as if he had decided the dark horrors of the mainland had no place on St Michael’s mount, not even in their thoughts. ‘How about I give you a proper tour of the island, show you the cottages you’ll be staying in and then leave you to rest up for the remainder of the day… I’m sure you could certainly do with it.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Tom, smiling as he once again rose from his seat, swiftly followed by Fran, Kai and the others while Bella, darting back under the table to Peter, barked with excitement at the sudden commotion.
Hearing that they had finished their meal, the young woman called Kasey appeared back though the doorway and began to clear away the plates.
‘Here, let me he
lp you,’ offered Jane, knowing that if she was staying she would need to build as many alliances as she could, in such a small community they were vital. ‘It’s Kasey isn’t it? I’m Jane, Jane Harper.’
‘Thanks,’ Kasey replied, with a smile handing Jane the tray onto which she began to pile the plates.
As Jane and Kasey started to make small talk, the others began to move away from the table, each politely pushing their chairs back into place; all accept Peter who was suddenly engaged in another playful tug of war with the excitable Alsatian.
‘C… Careful, P…Peter,’ warned Kai, as Bella unceremoniously bumped into a small antique gaming table upon which sat a chess board, the position of the pieces on the board telling him a game was still half way in play, ‘if you mess up the pieces you’ll ruin someone’s game.’
‘Sorry,’ said Peter sheepishly, making sure to pull Bella as far away from the table with its delicately spindled legs, ‘she didn’t mean to.’
‘Do you play, Kai?’ asked Father Matthew from across the room, noticing him scrutinising the chess board to make sure none of the pieces had been knocked over. ‘Perhaps Brandon or Kevin, will give you a game… that is if you can persuade them to take a break from their long running tournament that is. You’d think they’d get bored with it by now but no, every evening until they can barely see their hands in front of their faces, they’re sat at that table trying to best each other in their mini games of war.’
‘I used to p…play,’ said Kai quietly, almost to himself than in reply to Father Matthew’s enquiry, as he pushed a black rook back into the centre of the square it was sat on.
It was such a simple thing that triggered a torrent of memories in Kai but as his finger moved over the intricately carved piece it instantly took him back to one of the precious stolen moments he had shared with this father and even now the spicy aroma of his father’s aftershave came to him in haunting clarity. It had been during one of the rare summer holidays away from his boarding school and he could clearly see them both sat in his bedroom at the Embassy trying their best to ignore the music and soft rhythmic drumming of the Thai band drifting up from the reception below.
Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel Page 17