The Rapture

by Claire McGlasson

  ‘At the trial. Edgar was … Emily had the knife.’

  ‘Oh God,’ she says. ‘What did she do? By the time I had unpacked his things and walked back, they said Peter had taken him in a taxi. I must have passed them on the way. Did she hurt him?’

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. I had to get out.’

  ‘When I got back,’ she says, ‘Emily was standing in front of the sitting room mirror, just staring at her neck. There were scratches of dried blood and her blouse was torn around her throat. Octavia said she had done it to herself … Emily said she couldn’t remember.’

  ‘I didn’t go back in,’ I say, starting to panic again. ‘I’ve missed dinner. They will wonder where I am.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she says, reaching out for my arm. ‘They thought you were unwell. I told them I had checked and you were asleep in bed.’ She looks past me, to the room behind, and sees Edgar’s chair, still lying on its side. One of the legs is broken. ‘What did she do?’ Her voice is slow and deliberate now. ‘Dilys. Tell me.’

  ‘She said Edgar was under the control of Satan. She said he had to be freed.’

  Grace’s attention turns to the scraps of paper on the floor. She bends slowly, and nudges the pieces with her fingertips.

  ‘Letters,’ I say. ‘Between Edgar and Donald.’

  ‘Screwed up, torn to pieces …’ Her hand recoils; she takes a sharp breath and she looks at me. She wants me to mirror her shock, she wants to see it on my face, reflecting back at her, but I don’t feel anything. When I think of what I saw it’s as if I am watching a silent film, black and white memories sandwiched between crimson curtains. I can’t hear Edgar sobbing or Emily crying out, not if I concentrate and chew the side of my mouth to stop the tears from spilling over.

  Looking down, I see my hands are in hers now, they are shaking, she is trying to hold them still. But I don’t deserve her tenderness.

  ‘I didn’t stop her,’ I say, jerking them away. ‘I didn’t tell her to stop. She said he was unnatural, abhorrent …’

  ‘Try to breathe,’ she says. ‘Dilys, please, try to calm down.’

  ‘Edgar said it was love. He thought it was from God.’

  She takes my chin in her hand, tilts my head up towards her own, and with her eyes she holds me still until I find my breath. ‘And what do you think?’ she says.

  ‘Perhaps it was. Isn’t love the Lord’s gift to us all? Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.’

  ‘Oh Dilys,’ she says, closing her eyes and falling silent for a moment. ‘If they even heard you speak like that. Think about what they have done to Edgar …’

  ‘I know.’ They would never understand. They couldn’t.

  She takes my hands again. ‘If this is how it is going to be I just … I don’t think I can stay here …’

  I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

  It is all my fault. I should never have invited her to visit that first day. She could have lived a life of ignorance, a life outside the Garden. And the Lord would have forgiven her. She couldn’t have been damned for denying the Truth, if she had never heard it. But I am selfish. I wanted us to be trapped in this together.

  I still do.

  ‘We can’t go on like this,’ she says. ‘Broken chairs and knives. What if they found out … what if they knew we’d been meeting like this?’

  ‘It is all Emily’s doing. She’s taking over.’

  ‘But Octavia is letting her.’

  ‘Octavia struggles,’ I say. ‘All this … She has a heavy burden. When I was growing up … I remember … I saw the torment that She suffered.’

  ‘And what about you, Dilys? What about your torment? All this is making you ill.’

  She talks as though I have a choice. ‘We have to stay,’ I say. ‘It’s too late. You have made your vow to follow Octavia. If you turn your back on Her, you turn your back on God.’ And on me, Grace. You turn your back on me. ‘You can’t leave. Promise me you won’t.’

  ‘Dilys. Calm down. You’re hurting my hand. Your nails are digging—’

  ‘Promise me you’ll never mention it again.’

  AUTUMN

  The Voice of Jerusalem the Divine Mother … set the seal upon Octavia’s faith and works in a wonderful way. We were shown that the more we could lay our worst sins on Satan the better, for by our endeavour against him he was about to be cast out … Emily Goodwin, never knowing what we said, voiced the Mother’s answers and judgement, condemned us for what we had no idea was so rooted in us … [and] exorcised them from us – à haute voix. The victim generally collapsed in a flood of truly penitent tears which ‘The great Mother’ literally wiped away

  Rachel Fox, The Sufferings and Acts of Shiloh Jerusalem

  THE TEN COMMANDMENTS IN THE SPIRITUAL COURT

  (1) Thou shalt have no other Gods than Me.

  Idolatry will include devotion to one’s idea of how to do a thing, or to one’s own tastes or opinion.

  (2) Thou shalt not make unto thee any Graven Image.

  This will be taken to mean the imagination in regard to illness, fear, private interpretation in regard to the Divine Mother’s admonitions etc. must be overcome viz.: ‘I thought you meant so and so.’

  (3) Thou shalt not take the Name of the Lord Thy God in vain.

  By resenting reproof … or by bringing up trivial things.

  (4) Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

  To cause discomfort owing to lack of tact. Under this heading come unpleasing manners, unnecessary noises, high voices, humming, singing, ugly table manners, lack of courtesy and politeness etc.

  (5) Honour Thy Father and Thy Mother.

  Obeying behests of this mission and all Divine Commands in connection with it.

  (6) Thou shalt do no murder.

  Be a kill-joy: show temper – or pour forth complaints from a crooked or cantankerous disposition, moodiness, depression etc.

  (7) Thou shalt not commit adultery.

  You have definitely endeavoured to marry yourself to Holiness and Goodness, do not create grounds by which you may be divorced. Why pray ‘Deliver us from evil’ if you insist on trying to bring your own evil into the Kingdom?

  (8) Thou shalt not steal.

  To give way to jealousy and try to win praise which belongs to another, or to secure work for yourself which they should be allowed to do, will be counted as stealing or fraud.

  (9) Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

  Care must be taken by the Plaintiff to state their case fairly in the Divine Mother’s Court.

  (10) Thou shalt not covet, etc.

  It is useless to covet what has been a predestined position.

  There is no forgiveness in the new kingdom – all must be altered, not forgiven.

  The New World

  Octavia says we have entered a new era. Emily told Her so, or the Divine Mother did; sometimes even She finds it difficult to know which of them is speaking. But either way She is convinced the Lord has sent His Holy Spirit to wield the rod of correction. Emily has issued new rules and made it clear there will be consequences if we don’t follow them. She does not say what the punishments will be and no one dares to ask. Questions of any kind are no longer permitted. Edgar’s treachery has proved that those who doubt are led from the righteous path. That’s what Octavia told the congregation the day after his trial.

  ‘I hear there have been whisperings,’ She said, ‘from those who heard a commotion in the chapel or saw him leaving here in a taxi. I ask you to ignore rumours and listen to the truth – sordid though it is to hear.’

  Her candour about how and where the two men had ‘shared seed’ was rewarded with gasps of shock and modesty. ‘Edgar came bursting in … and the Divine Mother saved me,’ She said, smiling down at Emily who was sitting on the front row. ‘She took up the knife …’

  More gasps.

  ‘… God revealed that she
would be an instrument for the Holy Spirit … She said “send the man to New York, there he shall die.”’

  At this the room fell silent, the only sound a frantic tapping: the heels of Emily’s shoes kicking against the floor as she jerked in her chair.

  ‘Have you come?’ Octavia said. ‘Have you come with a message for your children?’

  ‘I am the Divine Mother,’ a voice said when her body had stilled. ‘I say again. Do not question. The serpentine line with its dot below is a devilish sign implying doubts on fundamental matters. There must be no “buts” or “if nots”.’

  And Octavia said, ‘Amen.’

  Afterwards, at supper, Peter told Emily her voice had been so strange it sounded like she was speaking from her eyes. She shook her head and said she couldn’t remember a thing about it.

  *

  We have gathered on the lawn, this evening. Though the Garden’s leaves have started to rust, summer’s heat still lingers in the airless chapel, and there were too many of us to sit in there tonight, so we carried chairs outside. All of the resident members are here, except Ellen of course; even Grace was told to prepare a cold supper so she could be spared from her duties in the kitchen. She is not sitting beside me. We are very careful to keep our distance when we are with the others now. Emily has been watching us and always seems to be nearby; quick to interrupt if I step into the kitchen with a question; ready to hurry Grace along if she lingers with my tray. We have to be careful, Grace said.

  Careful is what we are being.

  ‘There are those of you who seem to have forgotten what is expected,’ Emily says. ‘But in the new world it will become criminal to annoy, to distress, to depress or to irritate.’ A single burnished leaf lands by her feet, one of the first to drop. Soon the Garden will be stripped of its colour. And its dignity. Yggdrasil, already blushing at the thought, will watch its threadbare gown slide to the floor. And then no one will stop to sit on the bench around its trunk: it is too dangerous. The winds come and tear away loose twigs and branches.

  When Adrian was a boy his head was split open by a falling bough; Octavia said it was God’s punishment and insisted he confess his crimes. He always had a scar after that.

  I suppose he still does.

  *

  Kate Firth hands a stack of papers to Rachel Fox on the end of the front row; she takes a copy and passes it on.

  ‘Be warned,’ says Emily. ‘I shall not stand by and watch the Daughter suffer for your thoughtless behaviour. These are the new commandments. Failure to follow them will not be forgiven.’

  ‘She is right,’ Octavia tells the gathered congregation. ‘I have been too gentle, indulged you, but the time has come to mete out retribution. As Jesus said: Those whom I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore and repent.’

  Just like Edgar must do.

  This evening Octavia shares the news that the Divine Mother’s instructions for him have been followed. His ship has set sail. ‘Gone,’ She says. ‘As we speak he is crossing the Atlantic. He will trespass in this country no longer.’ She does not mention that Emily had to put him on the train to Southampton herself. He’d been terrified to leave the house alone since she’d told him about the ‘pleasant chat’ she’d had with the Chief Constable of the police. ‘I told Edgar the matter was settled,’ she said when she returned from his lodgings, ‘but that if any constable saw him out on the streets, he would be asked to accompany them to the station.’

  She checked on him every morning after that, and brought him a daily dose of the Water. That’s something else Octavia doesn’t mention to the congregation; I only know because I heard them speaking on the landing. ‘Do you need more squares?’ Octavia said. ‘I’ll call Dilys. She can get some from the linen room.’

  ‘No, no need to trouble her. I have a bundle in my desk,’ I heard Emily say.

  ‘I suppose it is only right that we make sure he is well enough to travel to Southampton.’ It sounded almost like a question.

  ‘We must prepare him body and soul, Octavia. You told me Yourself the words the Lord’s Spirit spoke through me. We must send him back to America.’ Emily paused, then said: ‘He will get what he deserves. I will make sure of that.’

  I wonder if she gave him a supply of blessed squares for his suitcase; I wonder if he is drinking the Water right now; whether he has a porthole in his cabin and whether he sits and thinks of Donald still.

  *

  After the meeting, we return to Number 12 for supper.

  ‘We are delivered from him at last,’ Octavia says, as Grace carries in a platter of cold meats. ‘But no sooner is one enemy vanquished than we must turn to fight another. So long have men ruled the Earth that they think they have sovereignty over us. But they shall be defeated …’

  Peter looks down and adjusts the napkin on his lap.

  ‘Except you, Peter,’ She says, pouring a little milk into Her teacup. ‘You are hardly like a man at all. If only others could share your piety.’ She pauses to pick up the teapot. ‘In fact, I think Peter should be part of the squadron you are assembling, Emily.’

  ‘What squadron?’ he says, reaching for a slice of cured ham.

  ‘To take on Harry Price. Though I hoped the sorry saga would pass over without attention, it seems that the newspapers have fallen for his trickery. He has announced to the nation that he will open the box this Friday evening in Westminster.’

  ‘How can he open it if he doesn’t have it?’ Peter says. But as soon as he asks the question he dips his head again: bracing himself for censure.

  ‘He can’t,’ Octavia says. ‘He is just as I said – a fake, a charlatan—’

  ‘A mountebank!’ says Emily, looking proud of the fact that she has managed to slip in another Shakespearean reference.

  ‘Indeed, Emily,’ says Octavia with a smile. ‘I shouldn’t wonder that he has bought himself an old travelling trunk and painted “Property of Joanna Southcott” on the top. But no one will be fooled when the time comes.’

  Grace glances at me and leaves the room to refill the teapot with hot water.

  ‘He will be shown to be a fraud. And when he is, we shall give our testimony,’ Octavia says. ‘We shall tell the assembled audience about the true box. When the news spreads, then the bishops will surely agree to come. They will have to.’ She adds a single spoonful of sugar to Her tea and stirs it. ‘So what say you, Peter?’ She says, pausing to take a sip. ‘Will you be part of the battalion?’

  ‘I will,’ says Peter. ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ says Grace, who returns with a fresh pot, ‘but if you are asking for volunteers may I put my name forward? I should like the chance to spread the Truth.’

  Octavia looks up at her. ‘You would have to make sure all your work was done.’

  ‘I would, Octavia.’

  ‘Then I can’t see why not,’ She says. ‘It would be good to have someone younger present.’

  Grace walks behind me and leans across to clear an empty plate from the table.

  ‘What about you, Dilys?’ she says. ‘I’m sure you must have your name down already?’

  ‘It is out of the question,’ Emily says. ‘We agreed that Dilys must stay in.’ She turns to Octavia. ‘That newspaper man that came to the door was determined to get his story. And it is only going to get worse now Mr Price is going ahead. We agreed – Dilys could be a target for the press who are so desperate to—’

  ‘I can’t see how I’ll come to any harm,’ I interrupt. ‘I won’t be alone, I’ll be with you.’

  ‘I’m not sure you are up to it,’ Emily says, ‘you haven’t been yourself lately. At Edgar’s trial you seemed quite unwell.’

  ‘Just a bout of sickness,’ I say. ‘I want to stand alongside you, Emily. I am one of the few who was present throughout this … unpleasantness with Edgar. I have seen the works the Lord called you to perform. The others haven’t been as blessed as I.’ I look straight into her eyes, and she knows what I am saying: there
are those who are finding it difficult to believe that God has chosen her as His divine instrument. When I delivered an article to the Printing Room this morning, the room fell silent. Miss Broadbent jumped and busied herself with the typesetting, but Mrs Gillett tried to draw me in, asking for the details of Emily’s trance: whether her eyes rolled, whether her voice changed accent or pitch, whether I thought she really couldn’t remember.

  ‘I am one of the few who can give testimony to the miracles I have witnessed in you,’ I say to Emily, gesturing for her to pass the cheese board.

  ‘Very well,’ says Octavia, without looking up from Her plate. ‘It is settled. Ask Kate and Rachel, and the Keeley sisters. That makes eight – a good omen.’

  I have won.

  Westminster

  We are huddled together, eyes down, collars up; our umbrellas jostle for space, sending trickles of water down the backs of our necks. We stepped out of the tube station at Embankment, and straight into the storm. Dark clouds have robbed London of its light, and turned the afternoon to early dusk, but there are no streetlamps to guide us as we walk. They won’t be lit until eight o’clock when the exhausted sun finally gives up trying and turns in for the night.

  ‘Black over Westminster,’ Emily says, leading the way along Victoria Embankment to Great George Street, ‘completely black.’ She doesn’t say it is a sign. She doesn’t need to. It’s what we are all supposed to think. Tonight Harry Price will try to fool the world but he shall be exposed, and we shall speak the words of Truth. All eight of us have come. Kate and Rachel jumped at the chance. And Mildred and Ethel Keeley were delighted to accept the invitation. The two sisters walk together with linked arms. Their similarity is so striking they are commonly mistaken for twins, attention they encourage by wearing matching clothes. Today they arrived at Number 12 in square-necked skirt suits: Mildred in claret with a coral hat, Ethel wearing the same shades in reverse. Octavia invited them to join us in the sitting room, then sent us on our way with a sip of the Water and a stack of leaflets to hand out after ‘Mr Price’s sideshow’.