Hungry Moon (15 page)

^{'We forgive you,' Mann said, 'We'll pray for you.' Some of the crowd nodded and fell to their knees, but even they looked disgusted and appalled until they rearranged their faces into piety. When Eustace stumbled forward inadvertently, a woman shrank away from him as if she couldn't bear the thought of his touch. 'What did I say?' he wanted to demand, but he didn't dare ask. As Mann started to pray - 'We ask Your forgiveness, O God, for this sinner' - Eustace lurched toward the path to the town. In the midst of the chorus of prayer that followed him across the moor, he thought he heard dry, croaking laughter.}

^{TWENTY TWO}

^{The thing in Needham's story was like Br'er Rabbit, Diana thought. At least you had to wonder why the Romans were supposed to have thrown it down the very cave where it had been wont to receive its sacrifices. You might suspect that it had influenced them to do so, like a subtler version of Br'er Rabbit's pretence that he didn't want to be thrown into the briar patch. You might wonder if it had been able to blot out the memory of Lutudarum and of all that the druids used to do. You might think a whole lot of damn fool things, Diana reflected, and there didn't seem to be much else she could do while she was refused access to Godwin Mann.}

^{He'd no time now to talk to unbelievers, his minions had told her at the hotel. She might have gritted her teeth and pretended to accept his faith if that would let her in, but then she realized how little that was likely to achieve: she needed more than the old man's story to confront him with. She'd driven to the library in Sheffield and spent a day pouring over books.}

^{She'd come away with a great deal of information and a sense that parts of it could be put together to prove all sorts of things, the way you could claim to show that God came from space or that the end of the world was near. Take Guy Fawkes Night, which it had been illegal not to celebrate in Britain until 1859. Of course it celebrated the failure of the Gunpowder Plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, but the bonfires people lit to celebrate were at least as old as Samhain. That was the druid festival marking the death of the sun, and it is known as Halloween now. Their other major festival was Beltane - May Eve, Walpurgisnacht, the date of Hitler's death. Beltane had celebrated the return of the sun with huge bonfires and human sacrifices. Men had passed firebrands from person to person, and whoever was holding the brand when it went out had had to go down on all fours and have his back piled with rubbish. That reminded Diana of the man in the moon with sticks on his back, just as the guy on top of the bonfires sounded like the man who wasn't a man who'd been burned at the cave. Even Mann couldn't stamp out Guy Fawkes Night, she told herself.}

^{As for the moon, it had always meant magic, often black. Worshipping the moon had been condemned as evil at least as far back as the Book of Job. Lunacy, lycanthropy, and mooncalves, inhuman things that grew in the womb, were all blamed on the moon. Hecate, goddess of the witches, had originally been a moon goddess with three faces, who had been accompanied by a pack of infernal dogs. Witchcraft was supposed to be the remains of shamanism, and apparently the druids had been shamans, wearing pelts to communicate with those species of animal. Shamans were led away by dreams into the wilderness to meditate and experience many lives, life out of the body, visions, ecstasy. The Satan of the witches was identified with Cernunnos, god of the druid underworld. It seemed odd that his name was so like Cerberus, guardian of the Roman underworld, a dog with three heads, three being the magic number of the druids. The pentacle had been involved in druid magic, which was why it was nicknamed the druid's foot. How far might the druidic influence extend? Perhaps it had something to do with the three wishes in fairy tales, but surely not the three persons of God or the three victims on Calvary. There were too many questions and glimmering connections; she felt stifled, unable to think. She stepped out of her cottage, to breathe.}

^{Patchy clouds lumbered across the sun. The sky flickered like a smoky fire. The broken promises of brightness made Diana feel frustrated, impatient to do something, but what? A phrase of a hymn drifted down from the moor, together with a smell of ash. It wasn't worth her trying to confront Mann now. She ought to be visiting the Booths, to reassure them that someone didn't believe the nonsense they were being accused of.}

^{Nothing but a sluggish breeze moved in the High Street. Windows of shops and cottages gleamed emptily at her; a pig's plastic head stared at her from the butcher's. With nobody about to disapprove of her, she felt a touch of that sense of homecoming she'd experienced the first time she'd seen Moonwell, yet she felt as if she'd forgotten why she was needed here or didn't even know. The streets seemed to ache with the absence of children, the silence where there should be shouts, the sounds of play. It didn't matter what they were led to believe so long as they were happy, she tried to tell herself; they'd grow out of it, some of them anyway. But she wasn't convinced they were happy, didn't want to imagine how school might be for them now. Her thoughts shut off the streets from her, and so she was halfway across the town square before she noticed she was being watched.}

^{It was the sound that alerted her, a faint soft tearing mingled with snarling. She couldn't locate it in the square or the empty streets. The hotel and the ponderous clouds stood over her. She took another step, and then she happened to glance past the side of the hotel, down the alley that sloped steeply past the kitchen. Six eyes met hers.}

^{She saw the eyes and teeth first, the jaws ripping at a piece of meat as red and bloody as the lolling tongues. There must be three stray dogs in the alley, Alsatians with matted fur and dangerous reddened eyes, but she could see only the heads watching her over the slope of the alley. If she moved, she thought, they would come leaping, and she would see if they really had three bodies or only one. The thought was so absurd that she stepped toward the alley to see.}

^{As soon as she moved, the three heads began to snarl in unison, baring their gums like charred grey plastic, their stained yellow teeth. She mustn't back away, or they would attack. She'd halted, willing them to slink away so that she could watch, when the clouds parted overhead. Instinct made her step forward as the sun blazed straight in their eyes. They flinched back, whimpering, and fled down the alley.}

^{Diana reached the alley in time to see them turn the corner, three stray dogs. She'd known all along that they were, she told herself. But her chest was tight, her heart was jumping. Maybe she'd be able to laugh at herself when she reached the bookshop, cheer up Geraldine and Jeremy. She hoped they would be there. Moonwell felt like a ghost town just now, forgotten by the world.}

^{The thought stopped her breath for a moment. 'My God,' she whispered, staring along the empty High Street, wondering which way to run, who to tell. It was true, then. It was happening again, and nobody had noticed. Perhaps she had realized too late.}

^{TWENTY THREE}

^{That Sunday evening Vera was leafing through a will when she said, 'Something's wrong.'}

^{Craig put down the
Telegraph
and reached for his pipe. 'I thought it seemed like a straightforward legacy.'}

^{'I don't mean this, I mean Hazel. I feel something's wrong.'}

^{He bent over his pipe and thumbed tobacco into it, feeling as if someone had pinched his stomach. 'Go ahead and call her. She won't want to hear from me.'}

^{'You know she does,' Vera said fiercely, and hurried to the phone. She must be anxious because she hadn't spoken to Hazel since they'd left Moonwell. If she blamed Craig for that, she was concealing it well, but he wished he'd never had that argument at Benedict's. He'd come away disliking not only Benedict but his own daughter.}

^{At breakfast on his last day in Moonwell, Hazel had turned on Craig, accusing him of leading Benedict to expect a loan and then letting him down - of doing so because he didn't care for Benedict and his faith. 'Faith that we'll bail him out, you mean? Faith that people won't have heard about his shoddy workmanship?' Craig had managed not to say, but the sight of Benedict looking injured yet forgiving had proved too much for him. Hazel was just looking for a substitute father, wasn't that so? Someone to tell her what to do, forgive her when she confessed she'd done wrong, make her feel safe from the world? 'If that's the kind of father you want you're welcome to him,' he'd growled, stalking upstairs for the luggage. Only when she wouldn't look at him as he climbed into Benedict's van had he realized how he'd injured her, and the worst of it was that he'd experienced no surge of love for his hurt child, he'd disliked her for not being able to cope with the truth.}

^{It wasn't up to him to judge her. They'd always encouraged her to be herself, and now she was. She wasn't their little girl any longer. After she was married, her room had felt like a wound in their house that had taken months to heal, and when Benedict was courting her, Craig had grown impotent with Vera - fathers often went through that, apparently - but they'd adjusted to all that, or thought they had. Now parenthood seemed to have all the anxieties with none of the rewards, and he hated himself for taking out his feelings on Hazel.}

^{Vera was dialling. When she'd failed three times to make the connection, she called the operator. 'Moon-well,' she explained, and had to repeat it twice. 'Look, never mind the name, I've given you the area code. Don't try to tell me there's no such place.' She beckoned Craig, her voice shaking. 'You speak to him.'}

^{But when Craig took the receiver, the phone at the other end was ringing. As Vera sank into her chair, one hand over her eyes, a voice said, 'Peak Homecare.'}

^{'Hello, Benedict. Is Hazel there? Her mother would like to speak to her.'}

^{'Not just now.'}

^{Craig tried to keep the stiffness out of his voice. 'Will she be home soon? Could you ask her to call then?'}

^{'She won't be home till late. She's out praying.'}

^{For a moment Craig heard that as 'playing,' as if Hazel were indeed a child again. 'They're holding a prayer meeting at the shop,' Benedict went on. 'I wouldn't be surprised if they go on all night.'}

^{'Praying for what?'}

^{'Oh, there's always plenty to pray for, though I don't suppose you'd think so.'}

^{'Yes, but they don't usually go on all night, do they? Why now?'}

^{I’m afraid you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'}

^{His smugness infuriated Craig. 'Well, if you won't tell me what's going on and Hazel's mother can't talk to her, it sounds as if we'll have to come and see you.'}

^{Vera nodded vigorously, smiling. 'It wouldn't be possible just now,' Benedict said. 'I've had to move all the alarms into the spare room and store the rest of my materials in the shed. I can't afford to rent space any longer.'}

^{'I'm glad to hear you've found a way to cut your costs. We can always stay at the hotel. Don't be surprised if you see us soon.'}

^{"The hotel's full,' Benedict said, too readily. Craig dropped the receiver into its cradle. 'What do you think?' he said to Vera. 'Shall we go and see what's up?'}

^{'Oh, yes please. Shall I call Lionel or will you? I'm sure he won't mind holding the fort for a couple of days.'}

^{Lionel was their partner, who would take over the practice if they moved. 'I didn't mean right now,' Craig protested. 'I was thinking more of the weekend.'}

^{'I don't want to wait until then to find out what's wrong. You think something is too, I can tell.'}

^{'But it may not be serious by our standards. Anyway, it's really up to Lionel when we can go.'}

^{Lionel said he would be happy to fit in with whatever plans they made. 'Go tomorrow if you like.' When Craig found the phone number of the Moonwell Hotel in the AA book, having searched so hard his eyes began to ache, the receptionist told him somewhat reluctantly that a reservation hadn't been taken up. 'We'll take it,' Craig said, and immediately felt dubious. 'Hazel may not thank us for this, you know,' he pointed out to Vera.}

^{'I'll chance it. She needs me, I can feel it.'}

^{'Let's hope she realizes she does,' Craig said, earning himself a reproachful look.}

^{Later he tried to make love to Vera. At the end of half an hour his arms were trembling from supporting himself on the bed. He felt as if age had withered his penis. 'Never mind,' Vera said, stroking his sweaty forehead as he abandoned the task. 'We'll pretend we aren't married when we're staying at the hotel.'}

^{He slept eventually, and wakened refreshed. That lasted until they were a few miles out of Sheffield and he had to slow down on the tortuous road. A reservoir glared in his eyes, a sports car edged up behind him until their bumpers were almost touching, then swung round him and at once was braked so sharply at a bend that Craig almost rammed it. There wasn't a bus to Moonwell on Mondays, but he spent the rest of the journey wishing he'd insisted that they take the bus tomorrow.}

^{The sky turned grey as the road climbed through the wild fields toward Moonwell. Tension and lack of sleep must be catching up with him, for as the Peugeot coasted up the long slopes of the moors, he felt as if each crest concealed a drop. The feeling was uncomfortably reminiscent of his childhood fall into the mineshaft. Damn Benedict for making him feel this way. Even the sight of the blank sky above Moonwell gave him a twinge of panic. He willed himself to stay aware of the road. By the time they reached the hotel, his head was throbbing so much he could barely see.}

^{Their room was cramped under the eaves, its window protruding through. Craig sank on the bed, which exuded a faint smell of detergent, and closed his eyes. Vera drew the curtains and went out to the chemist's, while Craig lay listening to the quiet of the town, hardly the sound of a car. When Vera came back, she gave him a glass of water and a brace of paracetemol tablets; then she said, 'Of all the people I could have done without, I bumped into Mel and Ursula.'}

^{'Remind me,' Craig said, trying to relax so as to give the painkillers a chance.}

^{'Benedict's holy friends. They've gone to warn Hazel we're here.'}

^{Five minutes later the lift came creaking to the top of the hotel, and Hazel knocked at their door. 'Oh, Mummy, why have you come back now?'}

^{'I'm sorry we did if that's how you feel. I thought you might even have been glad, but I obviously don't know much.'}

^{'Mummy, I
am
glad. I never would have wanted us to part the way we did. But Godwin's called a special rally for tomorrow, and I'll be busy until then.'}

^{'What you mean is, unbelievers aren't welcome.'}

^{'I just mean you'll have the town almost to yourselves and nothing to do,' Hazel said unconvincingly.}

^{'We'll be going nowhere while I feel like this,' Craig growled, resting one arm on his closed eyes.}

^{'What's wrong with Daddy?'}

^{'He doesn't like driving on these roads, that's all. Just leave him alone and he'll be all right. We'll be in the bar,' she told him, and when Hazel demurred, 'I want a drink even if you don't. We've got to talk.'}