A Crown of Lights (50 page)

‘Menna,’ Merrily said. ‘What about Menna?’

Judith brought her arm slowly down to her side, stiffening ever so slightly.

‘Judith, did Menna herself go to Father Ellis and beg for exorcism, to get rid of the molesting spirit of Mervyn Thomas?’

Judith was silent.

‘Or was it J.W.’s idea? In his role as husband. And father figure.’

Judith said, eyes unmoving, ‘How do you know she was cleansed?’

‘Wasn’t she?’

‘Is that any business of yours or mine?’ First sign of a significant loss of cool. ‘What would
I
know about the private affairs of Mr and Mrs J.W. Weal? Was I supposed to be her guardian and her keeper
all
her life?’

‘You were obviously still concerned about her. You went to visit her regularly. You were still, by all accounts, her only real friend. You were the best person to realize she was... still a victim.’

‘He loved her!’

‘He
suffocated
her, Mrs Prosser. When she was in hospital, he tended her, he washed her, hardly let the nurses near her. I saw him with a bowl of water, as if he was baptizing her all over again. As if he was somehow confirming and reinforcing what Father Ellis had done.’

‘You see everything, don’t you?’

‘Look, I just happened to be there, with Gomer the night his Minnie died. J.W. was like a priest, giving his wife the last rites. But she was already dead. Ellis said at the funeral that he’d baptized them together. Was that a public thing? Were you present?’

Judith came away from the fireplace. There was a large, iron coal stove in it, closed up. She walked to the small window and stood looking out. She was thinking. And she evidently did not want Merrily to see her thinking.

‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘No, I was not there, as such.’

‘Am I right in thinking that Menna was still felt to be... possessed, if you like, by her father?’

‘He was not a pleasant man,’ Judith said.

And did you get Menna on the Pill from an early age because you were afraid that what happened to Barbara might happen to her, too?
Merrily didn’t ask that. It perhaps didn’t need asking, not right now.

‘You couldn’t
really
be sure that Merv was leaving her alone, could you?’

Judith didn’t reply.

‘And whatever he was like, she was still dependent on him. Dependent on a strong man? Which Weal realized, and lost no time in exploiting.’

Judith kept on looking out of the window. ‘He was too old for her, yes. Too rigid in his ways, perhaps. But she
was
a flimsy, delicate thing. She would always need protection. She was never going to have much of a life with Jeffery, but she would at least be protected.’

‘Like a moth in a jar,’ Merrily said – and Judith turned sharply around. Merrily met her clear gaze. ‘When exactly did you begin to think that J.W. Weal, in his way, might be as bad for Menna as her father had been?’

‘It was not my business any more.’

‘Oh come on, you’d known that girl all her life. Did it really not occur to you that Weal might think he was somehow still in competition with the dead Mervyn Thomas for Menna’s affections? If that’s the right word? That maybe he didn’t think he was getting... everything he was entitled to.’

Judith came back to the fireplace. ‘Who is this going to help now?’

Merrily thought back to Barbara Buckingham.
Possession is nine points of the law.
Perhaps there was still a chance to help Barbara.

But that wouldn’t matter much to Judith Prosser.

‘Menna,’ Merrily said softly. ‘Perhaps it will help Menna.’

And so it came out.

The big room at the back of the house. The dining room in which probably no one ever dined. The bay-windowed room with rearing shadows. The room facing the mausoleum.

‘This was where it was actually done?’ Merrily said. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I watched, of course. I stood in the garden and I spied, just as you did on the night of Menna’s funeral. I was in our yard when I saw Father Ellis’s car go past slowly. I followed on foot. I saw him enter the old rectory with the medical bag he carries for such occasions. It was towards evening. I saw Menna dressed in white. I saw Father Ellis. I did not see Jeffery.’

Something had snapped. Something had fallen into place. Perhaps something which, even to a
local person
, was no longer defensible.

Merrily said cautiously, ‘And did what happened bear comparison with what took place at the village hall yesterday?’

‘I don’t know,’ Judith said. ‘It was not possible to see what was happening below the level of the window.’

Merrily’s palms were damp. ‘You’re saying she was on the floor at some point?’

‘I’m saying she wasn’t visible.’

‘When was this?’

‘About three... four... weeks ago? I can’t remember exactly.’

‘Not that long before she had her stroke, then.’

‘I’m making no connection, Mrs Watkins.’

‘Do you believe she was possessed and needed exorcism?’

‘I think she needed help.’

‘Was Dr Coll there?’

‘I have no reason to think so.’

‘So just Ellis and Menna.’

‘I imagine Jeffery was somewhere in the house. His car was there anyway.’

‘But you didn’t see him in the room?’

‘No. What do you want, Mrs Watkins? How can
you
knowing any of this possibly help Menna now?’

‘She haunted Barbara,’ Merrily said.

‘Haunted?’

‘I’m using the word loosely. Like memories haunt, guilt haunts.’

‘Yes, we know all about that.’

‘And spirits haunt.’

‘Do they really?’ Judith said. ‘Do you seriously believe that?’

‘Wouldn’t be much good in this job if I didn’t.’ What did Judith herself believe? That Ellis was an effective psychologist or an effective and useful con man?

Merrily said, ‘Barbara wanted me to do a kind of exorcism in reverse, to free Menna’s spirit from Weal’s possession. Possession of the dead by the living.’

‘Do you seriously believe—?’

‘
She
believed. And
I
believe we may have a tormented and frantic... essence which can’t find peace. Like a moth in a jar, except—’

‘A moth in a jar doesn’t live long.’

‘Exactly. That’s the difference.’

‘And how would you deal with this, Mrs Watkins?’ Judith placed her hands on her narrow hips. ‘How would you deal with it
now
? How would you go about it? Explain to me.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be an exorcism, because this is not an evil spirit. If we think of her perhaps as still a victim, needing to be rescued. Which is normally done by celebrating a Requiem Eucharist in the appropriate place, in the company of people close to the dead person. In this case it could be you. And Mr Weal, obviously.’

‘Then it will never be done, will it?’

Merrily heard Eileen Cullen, with the echoes of hospital clatter.
Swear to God he knew it was there. Twice, he looked back over his shoulder.

‘He
won’t
let her go.’ She sank into the chair, clutching the
bundled coat to her chest. ‘That’s what this is about: possessing her in death as he never fully did in life. And knowing that... how can I let it go on?’

‘Suppose...’ Judith’s voice had risen in pitch. ‘Suppose I could get you into that house, into that room – or into the tomb – to perform your ceremony? You wouldn’t be doing it with his compliance, but you wouldn’t be doing it against his will either, since he wouldn’t know about it. Wouldn’t that be better than nothing from your point of view, Mrs Watkins?’

‘How could you fix that?’

‘I have keys, see – keys to the house and also to the tomb. Menna was often taken unwell, so Jeffery gave me a key to get in and attend to her. When she died, he needed someone to let the masons in, to work on the tomb.’

‘Why would you want to risk letting
me
in?’

‘Perhaps,’ Judith said, ‘it’s a question of what is right – the right thing to do. I cared for Menna when she was alive. Perhaps it’s the last thing I can do for her.’

‘But it’s not right for
me
to go into someone’s house without permission.’

‘Well...’ Judith shrugged. ‘That’s your decision, isn’t it?’ She bent over and released a valve on the iron stove; there was a rush of air and a slow-building roar of fire. ‘I was about to say, Mrs Watkins, that Jeffery won’t be there tonight. It’s his lodge night. He never misses it, unlike Councillor Prosser. It’ll be even more important to him now. Always a great comfort to a man, the Masons.’

Merrily said, ‘Perhaps it’s a job for Father Ellis instead.’

Judith looked at her with severity. ‘Does that mean you are afraid, Mrs Watkins?’

When I looked for good, then evil came unto me; and when I waited for light there came darkness... I stood up and I cried in the congregation... I am a brother to dragons and a companion to owls.

Book of Job, Chapter 30, v. 26–9

M
ERRILY HAD ARRANGED
to meet Gomer in the Black Lion for a sandwich around two-thirty. She was early, but the pub was already filling up with those civilized rambling-club types – anoraks and soft drinks – who seemed to constitute Ellis’s core congregation.

More of them today, substantially more. You looked at them individually and they seemed worryingly genuine: young people with a vision of a new day, elderly people with a new and healthy approach to the evening of the day. There was a buzz of energy in the dispirited, part-painted Black Lion bar, each hug, each ‘Praise God’ passing on a vibration.

Merrily found herself standing next to a white-bearded man of about sixty, one of the few with a glass of beer. She asked him where he was from. Wolverhampton, he said, West Midland Pentecostal.

‘How far’ve you come, sister?’

‘Oh, just from Ledwardine, just over the border. How many of you are there?’

‘About... what, fifty-five? Hired ourselves a coach. Luckily, there’s a lot of retired people in our church, but quite a few youngsters’ve taken a day off work.’ He grinned, relaxed. ‘It’s a question of whose work you put first, isn’t it? We’re going to walk down to this satanist place after lunch and hold some Bible readings outside the gate. I’ve not actually seen Father Ellis yet, but I’m told he’s a very inspiring man.’

‘So they say.’

‘Praise God,’ said the man from Wolverhampton.

Merrily saw Gomer coming in and pointed to the table near the door. She ordered drinks and cheese sandwiches at the bar. Greg Starkey avoided her eyes.

Gomer was wearing his bomber jacket over a grey sweatshirt with ‘Gomer Parry Plant Hire’ on it in red.

‘Three bloody coaches on the car park, vicar.’

‘Mmm. It’s what happens these days – everything goes to extremes. Fastest growing movement in the Church and, hey, they’re going to prove it.’

‘En’t the only ones. Bunch of ole vans backed into a forestry clearing up towards the ole rectory. Lighting camp fires, bloody fools.’

‘Travellers?’

‘Pagans, they reckons.’

Merrily sighed. ‘All we need.’

‘Two police vans set up in the ole schoolyard – Dr Coll’s surgery. Another one in Big Weal’s drive – the ole rectory. Makes you laugh, don’t it? Two biggest bloody villains in East Radnor, both well in with the cops.’

Merrily dumped her cigarettes and lighter on the table. ‘You find out some more?’

‘Been over to Nev’s.’

‘Your nephew, yes?’

‘Ar. Drop in now and then, make sure the boy’s lookin’ after the ole diggers. Anyway, Nev’s with a lawyer in Llandod, plays bloody golf with him. He gived him a ring for me, off the record, like. Word is Big Weal’s favourite clients is
ole
clients, specially them not too quick up top n’more.’

‘Going senile?’

‘Worries a lot about their wills when they gets like that, see. Who’s gonner get what, how it’s gonner get sorted when they snuffs it. What they needs is a good lawyer – and a good doctor. Puts their mind at rest, ennit? ’Specially folk as en’t had a family lawyer for generations, see.’

‘Incomers? Refugees from Off, in need of guidance?’

‘Exac’ly it, vicar. This boy in Llandod, he reckons Weal gets a steady stream of ole clients recommended by their nice, kindly doctor. That confirm what you yeard, vicar?’

‘Fits in. And if we were to go a step further down that road, we might find a nice kindly priest.’

‘Sure t’be,’ Gomer said. ‘Church gets to be more important, the nearer you gets to that big ole farm gate.’

Two bikers came in. One wore a leather jacket open to a white T-shirt with a black dragon motif. The dragon was on its back, with a spear down its throat. It was hard to be sure which side they represented.

At four o’clock, the ruined church of St Michael looked like an old, beached boat, waiting for the tide of night to set it afloat.

‘Going to be lit up like a birthday cake,’ Betty said with distaste. ‘You can’t spot them from here, but there are clusters of candles and garden torches all over it. In the windows, on ledges, between the battlements on the tower. It’ll be visible for miles from the hills.’

‘Making a statement?’

‘Yeah. After centuries of holding ceremonies discreetly in the woods and behind curtains in suburban back rooms, we’re coming out.’

They’d met in the decaying copse, Merrily walking from the old archaeological site, where Gomer had parked, Betty coming across the bridge from the farmhouse and joining the footpath.

The sky had dulled, low clouds pocketing the sunken sun, and you could feel the dusk, carrying spores of frost. Betty looked cold. Merrily tightened her scarf.

‘Bain still wants to do it naked?’

‘Possibly. They’ll light a small fire inside a circle of stones in the open nave. Dance back to back with arms linked behind. Not as silly as it sounds. After a while you don’t feel it. You’re aglow.’

Like singing in tongues, Merrily thought. A long, flat cloud lay over the church now, like a wide-brimmed hat. From the other side of the ruins, beyond the pines and the Sitka spruce, they could hear the sounds of a hymn: straggly singing, off-key. The Christians at the gate.