The food was still abundant, having been rationed into twelve daily portions, and all Linda had to do was heat it up. Chicken biryani tonight, with rice and vegetables. Reverend James was already in his usual place at the head of the table. Suzanne brought out a steaming bowl of white rice, and Linda the curry. But no one touched it. The ghosts of form and ceremony were all that held us together. We sat in our usual places, opposite the empty places of the murdered, and avoided staring at the macabre display of their death mementos on their place settings.
Alison refused to sit with us at the table. She sat by the fire on the carpet, her legs up to her chin, her arms clasped around her knees.
Suzanne called to her. ‘Come and join us, Ali.’
She did not respond. Although she was crouched with her back to the group, I could see her in the mirror. She was shivering, likely from the cold terror inside her. She had been pushed too far, I could see that. Linda walked over and tried to put an arm around Alison’s shoulder, but she pushed her away.
‘It’s a test,’ said Reverend James to all of us, but directed at Alison. ‘A test of our faith. Like Job in the Old Testament. He lost everything, and still clung to his faith. Satan tried to make him renounce his God. He threw everything at him – death of his family, pestilence, wild weather, disease, and still he remained steadfast. This is the same. We have to withstand Satan’s fiery darts, keep faith and then everything will be restored tenfold as it was to Job.’
‘Amen,’ said Linda, filling each plate and passing it around the table.
I snorted. ‘Restored tenfold? So Glen, Stephen, Mike and Danny are going to miraculously rise from the dead on your command?’
Emily nudged me under the table. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Sorry. But we need to talk about what’s really going on here. What are the remaining days of Christmas?’
Reverend James recited them. ‘Six geese a-laying, seven swans a-swimming, eight maids a-milking, nine ladies dancing, ten lords a-leaping, eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming.’
‘So each of us was assigned a different day, and we’ve been targeted in that order. We need to know who is next.’
He gave me a dirty look. ‘No one is next,’ he said.
I glared back at him. ‘I meant, who was assigned the sixth day of Christmas? I know I’m the eight maids a-milking. So if the murderer continues his plan to eliminate us all, I can expect an attempt on my life in two days’ time. Who’s today?’
‘I am,’ called Alison. ‘I’m six geese a-laying.’ She pulled the card from her pocket and threw it into the fire.
Reverend James called across to her. ‘No one else is going to die, Ali,’ he said. ‘I will make sure of that. We’ll stick together.’
She ignored him. He turned back to me and I pointed my fork at him. ‘Nevertheless, the killer is playing by some strict mathematical logic. He or she has assigned a death for each of us corresponding not only to “The Twelve Days of Christmas” but to saints martyred on those days.’
Emily nodded. ‘So if we want to stay one step ahead, we have to think like the murderer.’
Suzanne turned the curry and rice on her plate with her fork. ‘But there are only… were only ten of us.’
Linda, who had been silent, now could not contain her fear. ‘He said he had murdered Sean and Jack before we arrived here. He’s out to get all of us, the entire Twelve.’
Reverend James patted his wife’s arm. ‘Then he’s lying. They each died in a car accident.’
I took a mouthful of curry and regretted it. My stomach turned. I chewed and swallowed. ‘Let’s assume the murderer was speaking the truth. That he, or she, killed Sean and Jack. That he is out to get us all. The question is, who is next?’
‘I’d rather die in the snow out there than… here in that torture museum,’ said Alison.
‘We’ll look after you,’ I said. ‘Even if the killer is among us, we’ll make an arrangement so we’re all safe. From one another.’
‘The only way to do that,’ said Reverend James, ‘is if we stay up all night.’
‘Or one of us keeps guard,’ said Emily.
‘But who?’ said Suzanne, looking around. ‘Who can we trust?’
We stared at one another.
I shook my head. ‘Let’s abandon trust and faith. I propose mutual mistrust. This is how the world works. Expect the worst of people. It’s an ugly principle, but one that works. Why do we have disclaimers and preventative measures in place in almost every aspect of our lives? Why the rule of law? To stop us doing harm to one another. We’re all monsters and it’s only the rule of law that keeps us from each other’s throats. So I propose we go back to each sleeping in separate rooms. Barricade ourselves in. No one goes out or in. Trust no one. How does that sound, Ali?’
‘He can open the doors electronically,’ said Linda. ‘There’s nowhere safe.’
This made everyone stop eating. She was right. Alison crumpled into a ball. Suzanne swallowed hard. Even Emily did not know what to say here. The curry burned down my throat. No one else ate, but I forced it all down. I wanted strength to fight this killer. I needed clear thinking. Logic.
‘I feel sick,’ said Suzanne. ‘Sorry, Linda, I can’t eat anything.’
‘At least drink. Keep hydrated.’ I poured glasses of juice for everyone.
Alison took the glass of fruit juice Linda passed to her and drank it in painful gulps.
Suzanne turned to the Reverend. ‘Six geese a-laying. What does that mean, Reverend James?’
He took a deep breath. ‘The six days of creation. God created the heavens and the earth and on the seventh he rested.’
‘And?’ I said.
Linda answered for him. ‘He made man in his own image and gave him dominion over the other creatures.’
I mulled over the word dominion, scrambling for a sinister interpretation, one involving murder.
‘He also created the creatures that creepeth upon the earth,’ she added. The Reverend nudged her to be silent.
I was thinking furiously. The murder was always connected to martyrdom. ‘Reverend James, perhaps you can tell us who was martyred on the sixth day of Christmas, and how. This may give us a clue.’
Reverend James furrowed his brows. Picked up the Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. ‘I prepared a sermon here on steadfastness in the face of persecution. But don’t think, please, that I had any intention–’
I tried to hide my impatience. ‘Just tell us what you found out.’
He swallowed. Darted his eyes about the room. ‘Let’s see. Christmas Day is the first day of Christmas, so the sixth day of Christmas is…’ He leafed through the book. ‘December 30th, the sixth day of Christmas, the year ad 304.’
All eyes were on the Reverend now.
‘St Anysia was a wealthy woman from Thessaly, Greece, who was martyred by a soldier who tried to drag her to a pagan sacrifice.’
‘How did she die?’
He shook his head. Looked across at Alison.
‘Tell us, Reverend,’ said Alison. ‘I need to know this.’
He swallowed. We all waited. He closed his eyes as he spoke as if the words were painful to get out. ‘A Roman soldier stabbed her in her face six times with his sword.’
The silence was punctuated with the crackling of embers exploding in the fire. Alison sat rigid, her back to everyone. Suzanne held her throat with her hand as if she was choking, and Linda pressed herself against her husband, who sat rigid in his seat. Emily mouthed a silent ‘wow’.
I stood. ‘It’s not going to happen. So here’s my plan. We lock ourselves away, barricade the door, trust no one, and meanwhile I will interview everyone in turn. Look for motive, means and opportunity. I have a few clues, but none of them make sense. I need more information. If I can talk to each of you, get a picture of this–’
‘Yes, Mr Poirot,’ said Suzanne.
Alison now turned, her face red. ‘Why you? Why not our pastor? He’s the leader. He should do the investigation
. We don’t trust you.’
Reverend James nodded. ‘I have already taken this on. I have prayed and God has told me–’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t trust you.’
His eyebrows knitted in thunderous disdain. Linda wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. ‘Who do you think you are?’
I walked around the table as I spoke. ‘A philosopher, a rational thinker. I’m trained in logic and rational thinking. Philosophy is a systematic discipline. It deals with evidence. Fact. Not faith. Not prayer.’
‘Faith,’ said Reverend James, ‘is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’
‘How can faith provide evidence?’ I said. ‘The things unseen here we find out by deductive logic.’
‘We’ve all read your blasphemous book,’ said Linda, still holding on to her husband as if she would fall over if she didn’t.
‘God is Dead,’ said Alison, using air quotes. She stood now and joined the group, behind Linda and the Reverend. Together they formed one faction, the anti-Rafe faction, I realised. I was flanked by Suzanne and Emily, but whether they were the pro-Rafe faction, I did not know. I certainly did not trust Suzanne, but at least she sat in solidarity with me.
Alison continued. ‘We examined it at Bible study one week. And in many sermons. Reverend James showed us the folly of your depraved arguments.’
Reverend James pulled Alison into a bear hug with his left hand. Linda still clung to his right shoulder. ‘We had to meet it head on,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t let it fester in the minds of our congregation.’
‘I’m flattered!’ I said. ‘I should have been there to listen to what you had to say.’
Alison jabbed her finger at me, emphasising every word she said: ‘The fool hath said in his heart there is no God. That’s what God says about you in the Psalms. You’re the fool. We made a big mistake inviting you here. Inviting the serpent into paradise.’
Reverend James made a motion to quieten her. Linda joined the chorus. ‘I can’t believe you wrote that book, Rafe. You said some terrible, unforgivable things against the Church. I didn’t want to read it.’
‘Some members of the congregation suggested burning it,’ added Alison.
‘Girls, please,’ said the Reverend, but his attempt to stop their outpouring of vitriol against me was half-hearted. I could see these were his words, his hatred, echoed back now.
Linda clung to him for support. ‘Reverend James said we needed to gird our loins against the fiery darts of Satan.’
I held up my hands in mock surrender. ‘Oh, so you think I’m Satan too now?’
‘An agent of–’ said Alison, glowering.
Reverend James raised a hand. ‘You attacked me personally in that book, Rafe. Personally. But I forgave you. I am wearing the armour of God. The belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith which can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit.’
Linda could not hold herself back now. ‘Rafe, you made many enemies with that book. It was hard to forgive you, hard to be with you at this retreat, and we know that you have brought evil among us. You did this. You brought on this terrible situation. Demons trailed behind you, and we let you all in.’
‘You want to destroy us, and our faith,’ said Alison, again jabbing her finger in the air at me from the safety of her Reverend’s embrace. ‘It’s obvious you came here to destroy us.’
I walked over to their side of the table. Both women shrank back as if I was going to attack. ‘Wait a minute. I was invited here by Reverend James. It was someone else’s agenda, not mine. If what you say is true, then let’s look at who organised this retreat. The obvious suspect is Reverend James.’
‘You’re still accusing me?’ Reverend James let go of the two women and walked over to face me. We stood a metre apart, sizing each other up.
I stared down at him and spoke as calmly as I could. ‘You planned this trip. You’re the one using the song and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs to structure each day. Ergo, you are the killer.’
Alison slapped her palms on the table. ‘No.’ Her face was so red she looked as if she might explode. ‘You, Rafe, saw the opportunity, knowing we were all gathered together and you could pick us off, one by one. That’s how much you hate us.’
I spread my arms out. ‘I don’t hate anyone–’
‘Stop it!’ shouted Suzanne. ‘Enough! This is ridiculous. We need to calm down.’
Alison slumped into her chair. ‘I’m feeling so sick, I need to go to bed. But I’m too terrified to be on my own.’
I spoke softly. ‘Well, let’s stick to our plan, okay? Lock your door. Barricade yourself in. And if you hear someone trying to push the door open, you yell out. Make sure the window is closed tight. If you want me to check out your room to make sure it’s safe before you go to bed, I will.’
But this did little to soothe her. She pressed her hand against her chest. I feared she was having heart palpitations. ‘Asking a murderer to check my room?’ she said. ‘Like asking a fox to look after a henhouse.’
Reverend James, who had stood his ground against me, now turned to the door. ‘Please excuse me too.’
‘Where are you going?’ I said.
He pushed the door open. ‘I don’t have to account to you for everything I do.’
‘We should stay together. The plan–’
‘You obviously don’t think we do. You do as you please.’ Reverend James walked through to the hallway, and then I heard him stomping to his room.
Linda guided Alison out of the room too.
I checked around at the others, who looked stunned. ‘So much for sticking together.’
Emily shrugged. ‘So much for your philosophical investigations. We have two factions now. Us and them.’
Suzanne put on a brave smile. ‘I’ll make coffee.’
‘Hot chocolate would be nice. But let me help,’ I said.
I left Emily warming herself by the fire and followed Suzanne into the kitchen, propping the door open so we could all still see one another. I rummaged through the kitchen drawers while she boiled the kettle and poured boiling water into three cups. She emptied sachets of chocolate powder into each and stirred. ‘What are you looking for?’ she said. ‘Sugar is over here.’
I said nothing. But I found what I was looking for in a high kitchen cabinet, a box that contained a sewing kit. I pulled out a black cotton reel and pocketed it.
Back in the living room, we sipped hot chocolate and stared at the fire. I heard the toilet flushing upstairs. Linda returned a few minutes later, but not with Alison. Suzanne made her a hot chocolate and she sipped it gratefully. ‘How is she?’ said Emily.
Linda shook her head. ‘She’s feverish. She’s lying down in her room. Don’t worry, I locked the door behind me. She’s safe.’ She showed us the key.
I looked sceptically at it.
‘I’ll check on her in a few minutes.’ Linda directed the blame at me. ‘She’s having a bit of a breakdown.’
‘She’s not the only one.’ Emily invited Linda over to a seat by the fire. ‘You okay, Linda? You look worn down.’
Linda wiped her eyes. ‘Fine, fine.’ Emily reached out and held her hand. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’
So we waited. Listened to Reverend James rumbling around upstairs. ‘What is he doing?’ I said.
‘He’s praying in his room,’ said Linda. But after we heard a crash, she corrected herself. ‘He’s upset. He’s only always got our best interests at heart. He brought us here for good reasons. And he blames himself. He was so excited about this reunion.’
‘I think we’d all better go to sleep,’ said Suzanne, draining her cup.
‘Given the mistrust among us,’ I said, ‘it seems that everyone has tacitly agreed to go back to sleeping in their own room. Just make sure you lock your door.’
Linda pointed at the electronic lock on the hallway
door. ‘But if he can unlock and lock doors electronically…’
‘Wedge a chair behind your door, pull a chest of drawers against it, block anyone coming in.’
They followed me upstairs and along the dark corridor. I stopped at Reverend James’ door and called to him. ‘We’re all going to bed now. Make sure you lock your door and push something heavy against it.’
No response.
‘Reverend?’
A grunt.
Then we went further along the corridor, all together, to Alison’s room.
‘Ali,’ called Suzanne through the keyhole. ‘It’s us.’
No response. My blood went cold. ‘Open it. Quickly.’
Linda unlocked her door with the key she had shown us earlier. I peered in. Alison was lying motionless in a ball on the bed in her dressing gown, but it was twisted around her as if it had been used to wring her neck.
I rushed over. Saw she was staring into space, had twisted the sleeve and was sucking on it. She took it out of her mouth. ‘Go away.’
‘Phew,’ said Emily. ‘You’re safe.’
I took the key from Linda and pressed it into Alison’s palm. ‘Lock your door, Alison.’ I spied the heavy dresser and pushed it towards the door. ‘Push this against the door when you lock it, and then you can make sure no one can come in.’
I checked the window and made sure it was fastened tight. No one could get in that way. I checked for any doors that might lead out of this room, but like the others, it was a solid-brick, four-cornered square of a cell. No way in or out except by the door.
Suzanne placed her arm around Alison’s shoulders. ‘Ali?’
Alison nodded. ‘God bless,’ said Linda, squeezing Alison’s hands with her own. ‘Stay safe, Ali.’
She closed the door and we waited outside.
I heard Alison turn the key and scrape the chest of drawers across. I tried the door. It was locked, barricaded.
‘Good girl,’ called Suzanne. ‘Sleep well.’
At her door, Suzanne hugged me. The hug was longer than it should have been, and tighter. I was aware of Emily watching us. I made sure Suzanne locked her door, and heard her pulling a piece of furniture against it. We then entered Emily’s room, where she gathered her pyjamas and pointed along the corridor towards my room. I nodded. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
Twelve Days Page 15