League of Lilith, The: A thriller with soul

by Sugrue, Rosalie

  The words come at Pauline in slow motion. They ring through her ears as if spoken in a vast cathedral. Fish is still expounding his theories but all she hears is … it’s a man’s world — there’s your proof. She snaps out of it in time to hear Fish’s summation.

  “That whole world was men. Men doing man stuff, that’s how they think and how they act. That’s the way men did things. Women were just there for seeing to their needs, sex and babies, and doing the cooking and clean-up stuff. We’re a bit more civilised these days … not much, but a bit. And I guess you could say the ladies,” he shakes his head in affectation, “Laaaadies … have dragged us into a softer world — what da ya reckon, love? Are you softening us up? I bloody hope so. I don’t want to be cooked up for dinner and have my head shrunk. Blaarhhhh,” he pulls a ferocious face and pushes it into Pauline.

  She laughs and hugs him. They have arrived at the cars and necessity divides them. The story-telling is over but the story leaves something profound in Pauline’s heart. The sex, the land, the brutal story … it has something to do with that old conversation with Sarai. What had she been on about?

  ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~

  Jen looks at her husband and wonders what they used to talk about. Mealtimes used to be chatty occasions. “I went to antenatal today.” She had been hoping Wilkin would ask, but it seems he has to be reminded.

  Wilkin looks up from his fresh fruit parfait and focuses on his wife. They say pregnancy makes a woman bloom and it does, he decides. This gorgeous woman is carrying his son. An ultrasound has proved it. He saw with his own eyes, his son. “What did they have to say?”

  “Everything is fine but …”

  Wilkin’s eyes narrow. “But what?”

  “Nothing,” Jen smiles. “Truly I’m fine, but I am in the category of ‘older first birth’. The midwife said it’s wise to have a hospital bag packed from five months, just in case there is an emergency. I thought we could go shopping tomorrow. It will be fun.”

  “Tomorrow, I need to slip into the office for a while, but yes, Jen. If you need a packed bag you must have a bag to pack. We can go shopping in the morning, lunch in town, and then I’ll go to the office. We’ll go in our own cars.”

  Carbon footprint, thinks Jen, but doesn’t say it. Spending a couple of hours in town with Wilkin is a rare pleasure these days. She kisses the top of his head as she clears his plate away.

  “I’ll stack the dishwasher and make coffee,” says Wilkin. “You put your feet up.”

  ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~

  A sky-blue overnight bag caught Wilkin’s attention in the mall but Jen was able to steer him to a maroon sports bag with a discreet blue trim. Very suitable, she appraises, and useful. The bag occupies the chair beside her. Wilkin has dashed off to his precious office and she is lingering over a herbal tea in the food court. The maroon bag bulges with other purchases doubly concealed in plastic bags. She itemises from memory: two front-opening nighties for herself, four baby gowns, hats, booties …

  “You must be desperate for company,” chirps a cheerful voice. “No matter how hard you listen that bag is not going to speak.”

  “You can’t know that for sure,” returns Jen.

  Keith from uni is standing beside her with a coffee in his hand. “You are alone apart from your silent friend here?”

  “Yes, pull up a pew. Lovely to see you, Keith. Are you going away for the holidays?”

  “January isn’t a holiday for me, parsons take the month off and the workload falls to lay preachers and theology students. I’m already doing supply work and enjoying it thoroughly. How about your holidays?”

  “Wilkin is only taking the week off over Christmas and New Year. We’ll spend most of it with my parents in Mosgiel.”

  “I’ll be spending Christmas with my parents too. It will be quiet.”

  “It won’t be quiet at my parent’s place. All the family will put in an appearance. We’re the only ones without kids — but that is about to change.”

  “I’m pleased for you, Jen. It must be exciting. We had hopes of a family but it wasn’t to be. That’s why marriage didn’t work out for us.” He was going to leave it at that but Jen’s expression is total empathy. “Turns out I haven’t got the goods. Lisa needed children more than she needed me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” responds Jen, thinking of Wilkin and wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t got pregnant. “The urge to have children is obsessive for some people, I’m sure they can’t help feeling the way they do.”

  ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~

  27 — Litha Sabbat

  Wednesday, 16 December

  Pauline takes her handwritten Book of Shadows from its shelf in the study and carries it to her conservatory. She pauses to survey the mass of satisfying colour and vigour that is her summer garden. Familiar stalks through the open ranch-slider and weaves himself between her legs. “No, I’m not picking you up. It’s too hot to have you on my lap and I have to get on with organising the Litha Sabbat.”

  She opens the heavy journal, spreading it firmly across her knee. The book contains spells, quotations, rituals, Sabbat instructions, and general Wiccan information. It is uniquely hers. Sarai gifted the blank journal a decade ago and Pauline has delighted in filling it. She turns to the Sabbat section and has a moment of unexpected doubt. Usually her preparations are underway weeks before the event. Could she be losing her enthusiasm for Sabbats? “The trouble is,” she tells Familiar, “in the antipodes the deluge of Christmas and end-of-year festivities make Midsummer a non event. I have to remind myself what Litha is about.”

  Familiar spreads himself to sleep on a sunny tile with limbs splayed as far apart as he can stretch. “If you are that hot you could move to a shady spot,” Pauline admonishes. He flicks an ear to dislodge the nonsense the woman talks. Pauline turns to her book.

  The Summer Solstice is a time of fulfilment of love. True, affirms Pauline, thinking of Fish. Ten days ago they were fulfilling love at Akaroa. She reads on: The Lord of Light has fought the powers of darkness, and is triumphant, ensuring fertility in the land. But in doing so, he sows the seeds of his own death. The Wheel turns and the Dark God begins to wax in power as the Light God wanes.

  She loves Fish madly. She would do anything for him. And has! Just two days ago she transferred a loan of $150,000 into his bank account. Fish had shown her a delightful little place in the Fendalton shopping area that would be perfect for a studio and small gallery. It is linked to an upmarket café the tenant is keen to display paintings — couldn’t be more ideal.

  The Goddess reaches out to the fertilising God at the height of his powers. Summer seems a carefree time, yet in the knowledge of life is the knowledge of death, and beauty is but transitory. The Goddess dances her dance of Life and Death. The God of Light loves her and dies of his love. She presides over the death of the God.

  Is the love Fish makes a transitory thing? She knows it is. They have made no commitment, no ties. The loan is a business transaction, an investment. A business partnership is a stand-alone, separate thing that can exist without intimate relations. For a moment she fancies herself helping out in the gallery, encouraging buyers, making sales. She dismisses the vision. He would see it as intrusive. No, she is just happy that she had the means to help him get set up in a permanent business.

  Pauline is unexpectedly transported by thoughts of physical intimacy. The sheer pleasure and transcendent experience of sex with Fish overwhelms her — just thinking of his masculine desire and intent sends waves of pleasure through her body … unsettling waves. Could it be guilt, her old programming sneaking in and admonishing her promiscuity, her pleasure? No, definitely not! On odd occasions she has felt hints of the old voice but is always able to put it in its place. She has journeyed well beyond those blinkered views. No, this feeling of unease is grounded in her personal honesty. But what is it? The feelings are not clear. She places the book on the coffee table and interlocks her long fingers over her soft tummy. Her brother’s words
come to her: never let yourself be overwhelmed by problems, work through them methodically and believe in yourself. She allows her thoughts to wander to being 21 and alone in a world that was foreign to her; finding work in a Lancaster library; searching for Matthew; finding the Green Woods Garden Centre at Cambridge; happily following him and his partner Euan Green as they established a chain of Green Woods Garden Centres, the last one in Bristol; her work at the Bristol library; Matthew and Euan gently encouraging her to make friends, enjoy life to the full, and explore the complex world of intimate relationships — something she didn’t manage successfully until after they’d gone. Had Matthew been on hand she may not have made the initial wild mistakes she did. But she got herself sorted — of that she is sure.

  Her eyes drift the path of the triune Celtic knot embossed on the cover of the journal until the endless journey takes her to nowhere. Something is not right in the sex, comes a voice. It is the sex act itself that has complications. Memories of Akaroa come effortlessly and vividly. She was wanton, abandoned to lust, but abandonment is fine. There is pleasure in surrender. She had fully surrendered herself to the pleasure.

  A question bites at her conscience. Did she surrender to pleasure or did she surrender to Fish? It is not her adolescent self that nags, it is her middle-age activist, the wise-woman feminist. At Akaroa she became what she despises in the gender sexual roles: she allowed herself to become Fish’s play thing. She recalls the best things about her feminist days — the passion of the community, the sisterhood, the sense of belonging. Feminist ideals providing a platform from which a better life could flourish — the ideals liberating and the relationships profound, the intimacy, connection, sense of belonging. “The one-ness,” she utters aloud. Familiar is unmoved but something shifts in the air. The one-ness she repeats internally and releases all thought.

  “Nooeow, nooeow, nooeow!” demands Familiar, in his plaintive unfed voice.

  Pauline rouses slowly from her meditation, luxuriating in the pleasantness it brought. She puts a generous serving of Feline Gourmet into Familiar’s bowl and watches him hoe into it.

  “How long have I been leading the coven?”

  Familiar marks time with padded front feet while Pauline reckons up. “Almost nine years! I am becoming a power freak.” To spare Familiar’s feelings she doesn’t articulate, with all its masculine connotations. “Leadership must be shared,” she states aloud, and her thoughts spin to Fish. The sex has moved me somehow. Who would have thought such worldly pleasures could bring such profound spiritual revelations. My yearning for Fish is palpable, I want him. I want that connection. Such obvious and simple attachment … but I won’t judge myself for it, I will rejoice in it.

  “Meow,” offers Familiar. He pads over and sits under her chair.

  “Pussy-cat, Pussy-cat, what have you seen? It wasn’t a mouse and I’m not a queen!”

  “Yeowl,” whines Familiar in disgust and proceeds to wash himself.

  I suppose the girls think of me as the Queen Bee. I must step down. I’ve been in charge for too long. But … am I giving up the coven leadership to release more time for loving Fish? No! Loving Fish has opened me to releasing my control.

  Shirley would make an ideal priestess. She’s creative, has an eye for detail, and is easing herself into retirement. She has relinquished her position as a ward supervisor and is nursing only three days a week, filling in where needed. The Midsummer Sabbat would be an ideal time to pass the coven to her leadership. Must invite her around for a chat.

  ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~

  Kat transfers from bus to train at Greymouth. The Tranz Alpine is definitely more comfortable than the Intercity coach when one is eight months pregnant. Even so it is a long trip. She’s looking forward to being home. Home — an interesting word, she considers, as the train glides round the Grey River. Until last year she had called Ross home, but having poured her energies into getting her rented cottage ready for Baby she now has her very own home.

  All things considered the visit to Ross for Christmas and New Year had worked out as well as could be expected. The train plunges into a tunnel and Kat chuckles inwardly, recalling Grandma’s reaction when she got off the bus. Her face went from light to dark to light as swiftly as the train emerges from the Brunner tunnel. Kat had read pleasure, shock, anger, sadness and love. Her grandma’s words were, So, I have a second great-grandchild on the way. Are you all right, dear?”

  But recriminations had to come. A baby means goodbye to seeing the world. Vonnie has a husband, how are you going to cope? Kat had prepared herself for this and assured Grandma that she had everything under control, suitable accommodation, enough money to provide for the baby’s needs, and good friends who would support her at the birth. And as for travel, it can wait a while.

  Kat observed first-hand what little practical help cousin Veronica’s husband actually gave when it came to crying and nappies. But he did have a steady job and was reasonable company, if the conversation centred on sport and cars. As for Vonnie, she had no conversation topic beyond breast-feeding and burping.

  “A child needs a father,” Grandma had scolded, “but it is better to be single than marry a man who isn’t willing to be a father. You girls are so lucky that you can be financially independent. It wasn’t always like that,” she had added darkly, pursing her lips.

  Despite self-professed confidence, Kat isn’t as assured as she proclaims. The past couple of months have been quite lonely. The future spreads before her as an uneasy mix of exciting and daunting. Is she missing her prostitute life? There were some customers she really enjoyed. Put that thought to bed, she snaps at herself. You have a new life and a place of your own. Clambering up and down a ladder cleaning and painting is not easy when pregnant. She envies Jen, with her lovely home and husband who longs to be a father.

  ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~

  Sarai gazes round her flat. “Convenient and comfortable,” she says, aloud. “But not for much longer,” she informs the second bedroom, which doubles as her study. Luckily she has a couple of months grace to find a suitable retirement cottage. I will miss teaching, she confides silently to the blank paper on her desk, but the time has come. Age gets us all if we live long enough. My great work must be accomplished. The best thing I can do at this stage is compose a resource for my novices. “Time to write how things really are,” she tells her purple fountain pen as she makes a new heading,

  The Gospel of Sarai

  In the beginning was One-Soul and One-Soul was Wisdom and Wisdom was God and Godde. The same was Sophia and I Am and She-Who-Is. One-Soul is Spirit and known by many names and many attributes including the Ultimate One, Creator and Sustainer.

  In One-Soul was life and energy and this life was male and female in harmony. Within One-Soul male and female were complete and perfect but they comprehended it not.

  As perfection cannot be fully known without knowing imperfection wondering stirred in One-Soul’s peripheral Soul-Strands. Male and Female Strands desired to feel their separateness, to experience physical perception and know independent will.

  One-Soul is Love and Love risked all to grant what the Wonderers desired, requesting only that in separation the divided Souls stay connected to the true energy of One-Soul.

  And thus the Wondering Souls became flesh and dwelt on the earth. They remembered separateness was illusion and they created myths to ground the illusion in story.

  Males were tasked with pushing the boundaries of physical reality. Females were tasked with keeping human Souls linked to One-Soul. And all Wondering Soul-Strands were given sufficient knowledge and ego to live in the illusion and feel good about themselves.

  The illusion gradually created its own energy and appeared as reality to the earth-dwellers.

  Male and female pursued their complementary paths of perception and lived in community with each other. All was well until corruption entered earth in the form of an Alien Ego. From whence it came was a mystery and neither male nor female could be blamed.r />
  The Ego whispered you are real, you can own, control, understand, destroy and create. And the illusion manifested as absolute reality. The Alien Ego said, “You have the power to know.”

  And humans became trapped by knowledge, for knowledge is inexhaustible. The more humanity looked to science, art or understanding relationships the more humanity found to discover. There is no end to knowledge for knowledge is without end.

  Earth-dwelling females experienced the same physical desires as the males and intoxicated by physical sensation and physical perception they embraced the male path.

  One-Soul saw all, knew all and cared. One-Soul was present in all earthly joy and earthly suffering but One-Soul could not interfere in the illusion for the illusion was not reality.

  The Alien Ego said, “You have the power to be, you are an individual human being. You do not have to be Perfect, you can be Yourself.”

  Yourself became Selfish and the concept of Loving Perfection dimmed. One-Soul was diminished and the well being of the Universe was threatened.

  But a Male Remnant strove to create human perfection and male prophets urged a better way of being. And a Female Remnant continued to tend and nurture while maintaining human Soul connection to the Spiritual Energies of Wholeness and Perfection.

  Wise Souls experienced a measure of true Spirituality by their good creating and good nurturing, thereby improving the quality of the dream. And Wisdom Keepers continued to pass the Soul-Wisdom of One-ness from generation to generation.

  Wisdom Keepers communed with One-Soul, through meditation. Through the interconnected state of One-ness, Wisdom Keepers were aware of each other and drew strength from each other while living the illusion. And One-Soul diminished not.

  The Good News is this: all souls are able to feel the affirming energy of One-Soul even in the illusion of earth-dwelling. Different peoples with differing experiences, give different names and understandings to One-Soul spirituality.