The Chrysalid Conspiracy (6 page)

“Hello Rayn with a ‘y’. I’m Lucille with three ‘L’s’, call me Lucy.”

“Hello Mrs Jaxson,” replied Rayn, taking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Don’t be too sure of that yet,” interrupted Amelia. “She has the uncanny ability to spot other people’s faults, especially mine.”

Rayn laughed. The apprehension she had felt at meeting Amelia’s mother melted away and she began to relax.

“Did Amelia tell you about this?” Lucy asked, indicating the electric wheelchair she was sitting in.

“Er, yes she did,” said Rayn, slightly caught off guard.

“Good. Most people don’t know what to say the first time they see me – which usually puts me at an advantage.” She turned towards the French doors leading into the house as she said, “Come on. Let’s get you two sorted out. Any questions just fire away. By the way, does your mother know that you’re here?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Rayn, Are you okay?” Amelia almost shouted in alarm. Lucy caught the urgency in her daughter’s voice and turned quickly, taking a little more paint off the door with her footplates.

Rayn, completely mesmerised by the kaleidoscope of colour and fragrance she was in was trying to take in the whole spectrum of potted plants, cut flowers, and shrubs and bushes that mingled with beautifully-made bouquets. There was even a small water feature, all expertly laid out to complement the shrubs around it and draw the eyes on a magical journey of sensation.

“I’m sorry,” said Rayn, “I didn’t know. I can’t believe I’ve been standing here for five minutes and not noticed. It’s beyond beautiful. It’s awesome.”

“That’s very kind of you my dear, but please don’t frighten us like that again,” reprimanded Lucy.

“Sorry,” Rayn repeated. “I’ve never seen anything like it. When mum and I go for walks we’re usually looking for plants and shrubs we can eat. We tend to live off the countryside a lot. Most of these I’ve never seen before in my life.”

“This time of year most of them are flown in from exotic locations,” Amelia explained.

“By people who have the good sense to have warmer weather,” cut in Lucy. “Come on, I don’t plan on opening a vegetarian restaurant.”

“We’d probably make more money,” suggested Amelia.

“Yes, but think of all that washing-up?” countered her mother with a grin. “Anyway, I prefer trees.”

“Really?” enquired Rayn.

“Of course,” said Lucy. “I’m firmly convinced that animals look up to me and humans look down on me, but trees – well, trees treat me as an equal. Now, come on, phone your mother and get those wet clothes off. Amelia, put the kettle on, find yourselves something dry to put on and get those clothes in the washing machine. Rayn, I like my tea strong and sweet. Amelia, I’ll get the shop,” she finished, hearing the brass bell above the shop door summoning her.

Rayn walked submissively into the kitchen “She sounds just like my mother. If there is a God, he or she really, really hates me.” She called out to no one in particular.

Amelia came downstairs, went into the kitchen and, trying not to laugh told her that the customer in the shop was the local vicar.

“Give me a break,” wailed Rayn. “Thank God I’m an atheist!” she said, even louder.

Amelia was nearly crying with laughter while they made the tea. She took a cup in to her mother. “Hello Vicar. Would you like a cup?” she asked, ignoring the look from her mother promising pain beyond endurance.

“No thank you,” he replied, to everyone’s relief, and the tall thin man of God continued, “I’m afraid tea is an occupational hazard in this profession,” he smiled. “I have nightmares that I’m on the Ark. All the animals are tea cups and we are adrift in a sea of tea, quite frightening, really.” tragically failing in his attempt to be humorous,

‘
Try one of mine,
thought Amelia,
you’d never sleep again’.

Finishing their drinks Amelia introduced Rayn to the shower room. Rayn, accustomed to the limited facilities of caravan life was completely overwhelmed.

“Wow! I’m moving in,” she exclaimed, dropping her school bag on the floor of the corridor. Amelia picked it up and put it on the stairs.

“Sorry,” said Rayn. “I didn’t think.”

“That’s okay,” said Amelia. “It takes some getting used to, I suppose. But I’m afraid different rules apply with the disabled.”

“It must be annoying for your mum when someone does that,” Rayn said.

“Oh, it’s not mum I’m worried about,” said Amelia. “It’s just that if she sees it in her way she’ll run over it and shred it. That chair’s like a battle tank.”

“Are you sure she’s your mother and not mine? Or is the whole world crazy?” shouted Rayn.

As they went into the shower room Lucy heard her daughter’s reply. “Well, you know what they say, ‘in the world of the witless, the halfwit rules. I’ll leave you to it then, take your time.” And went upstairs in search of her tracksuit.

***

As Bridie Mgee walked into ‘Heaven Scent’, Tether’s End village flower shop she was wondering what her daughter had got her into this time. A pretty, well-dressed woman was sitting in a wheelchair next to a large display of wrapped bouquets, each one a work of art. Bridie guessed her to be about her own age – late thirties early forties, but her view was partially blocked by a tall, thin man in a black suit who stood with his back to Bridie.

“If Mrs Atkinson could pick them up about nine o’clock tomorrow,” he was saying. “Would that be all right?”

“Yes of course, any time,” smiled the woman, in an articulate and educated voice. The woman looked toward Bridie. “I’ll be with you in a moment. You must be Rayn’s mother?”

“You noticed the hair then,” said Bridie with a grin. The two women locked eyes and Bridie felt as if she had just reached the end of a very long journey. Lucy was trying to control the grin on her face. Apart from that there was no indication they’d ever met before.

The man turned and Bridie saw the white clerical collar he was wearing. Her intuition told her that he was much older than he looked and that he had adapted his behaviour and language to that younger age. Her ability to see through people had been developed through the many years she’d spent as a gypsy traveller, living on the fringes of legality and dealing with all types of deception.

She felt sorry for him. He had obviously discovered the bigotry and corruption that seemed to be endemic in all walks of life, but he looked to have adapted well and was confident with it.

He smiled, gave her a nod and turned back to the woman. Bridie recognised the move. He needed to work out who and what this red headed stranger was to enable him to adopt a style that would appeal to her.

“Now,” he said to Lucy. “You must pop over to the church tomorrow, after the wedding, and see how good Mrs Atkinson is at the flower arranging. She’s quite amazing, what with her arthritis.”

“I doubt it, Vicar,” Lucy smiled. “Saturday is very busy, and I’m really not fond of weddings.”

“Well,” he replied, “perhaps Sunday then?” His voice rose slightly on the word Sunday to emphasise its significance. Bridie could detect that Lucy’s smile was under pressure, but she remained silent.

“I told you Vicar,” she replied and indicated the surroundings. “This is my church; my customers are my congregation and the only thing I worship is my daughter.”

The vicar smiled and, not recognising defeat, continued. “Hmm, well, perhaps one day. Just getting you through the door would be a minor success.”

“Vicar, you don’t even have a ramp, and I’m supposed to be Catholic.”

“Oh come on Mrs. Jaxson, we’re in the twenty-first century now. The churches are almost one big happy family.”

Bridie felt the lie like a physical pain, remembering her early years with her naive and pointless work for the IRA, all in the name of religion and so called patriotism.

“I’m still working on that ramp.” The Vicar responded, oblivious to the rising hackles his conversation had inspired, “But my people want to put one at the back door. That’s not a very good idea, is it?”

“Positive discrimination,” Lucy accused. Her smile had faded but her face was holding its own.

“They certainly don’t seem to be aware of their responsibilities,” responded the vicar, agreeing with her. “There was one other thing, while I’m here, Mrs Jaxson,” he continued.

“What’s the problem, Vicar?” the woman asked warily.

Bridie cringed inside as she began to recognise how good this man was. After carefully initiating an atmosphere of sympathy for his ‘struggle against his people’, he had pressed the right buttons and moved in to take the advantage. And this woman was walking right into it.

“Well, I was wondering if next Saturday – after you’ve closed, of course – you could let me have any old stock you may be throwing out.”

“Next Saturday is Halloween. What are you up to now, Vicar?” asked the woman.

Bridie, who’d been standing quietly listening to the conversation (with a secret admiration for the vicar’s polished performance) had become intrigued.

“Well, I thought I’d spruce the church up a bit. I’m holding a little service and a concert to…er…you know…” he looked a little sheepish as he went on, “to make a show of fighting off the demons, or something.” Bridie was glad she hadn’t intervened to get the woman off the hook. She smiled to herself and wondered where this was going.

“You’re going to celebrate Halloween?” exclaimed Lucy, trying not to laugh.

“No,” he said quickly. “Oh, I know Halloween is just a bit of fun, but you never know, do you? I just thought we could have a bit of fun making a show of fighting back. What do you think?”

Bridie couldn’t help laughing out loud. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Vicar,” she said, “but I think the demons have already won.”

Lucy laughed, grateful for the respite. The vicar was at a loss for words and to hide his embarrassment she quickly interjected. “Okay, Vicar. It will give me a chance to have a good clear out ready for Christmas, as long as you don’t mind what you get.”

“No, no, that would be… er… great, great,” he blustered. The intervention of this tall, red-headed woman had thrown him. He made some attempt to reorganise his thoughts and regain the initiative.

“Right,” Lucy continued. “If you can get someone over here a week on Saturday, about four o’clock, we’ll close early. And yes, I’ll put an advertisement for your event in the window. What’s the entertainment, by the way?”

“The choir from the local primary school are singing, and I’ve provisionally booked the Warem Down Comprehensive, if I can get transport.”

“Vicar, book your bus and send me the bill, and you can have all the flowers I can manage. Okay?”

“Oh, thank you Mrs Jaxson. I don’t know what to say.”

“That must be a first,” Lucy replied. They all laughed, though the vicar was flustered and unsettled. He shook hands with Bridie, leaned across the wheelchair and kissed Lucy on the cheek, shook hands with Bridie again and left, muttering, “Bless you, bless you, bless you,” over and over again.

Well, I’m damned! He got exactly what he wanted, but he sure didn’t like losing,
thought Bridie. Holding the door open for him.

Bridie said something to him, she was smiling and seemed quite friendly. Lucy couldn’t hear what she said but she saw the reaction. The reverend West’s face froze just for a moment. Saying nothing he peered at Bridie with fresh eyes then turned to look directly at Lucy. Those fresh eyes seemed to go right through her and the half smile he released was full of some obscure triumph, as if he’d just found an important piece of a puzzle. Lucy’s heart sank as Bridie closed the door behind him.

“That was an expensive visit,” said Lucy, quickly regaining her composure and redesigning the conversation, “but I had to get rid of him. He’s a pleasant enough guy, but a bit devious. Actually, he’s a pain in the neck, but I have to go along with him. We get an awful lot of business through the local church.”

“You saw it coming then?” said Bridie, relieved.

“Oh yes. It costs me every time he walks through the door. Oh well,” sighed Lucy.

“Anyway, I’m Bridie Mgee and I think you’ve kidnapped my daughter, again.”

“Lucy Jaxson. It’s nice to meet you again, too. Belfast University Hospital wasn’t it? I was on a course there and you were carrying some bullet holes and a baby if I remember. I think the girls are in the shower at the moment.”

“Together?” exclaimed Bridie.

Lucy gave a shrug, palms up. “I shouldn’t think so, knowing Amelia. But don’t worry, it’s a big walk-in shower, there’s plenty of room. Come on through. Oh, could you flip the closed sign over and push the bolt? I’ve had enough for today.”

“I must compliment you on this display,” said Bridie. “It’s absolutely stunning. How do you get the colours so bright? The fragrance hits you as you walk through the door.”

“Well,” said Lucy, “it’s mostly smoke and mirrors. I am, after all, a botanist, not to mention a micro biologist as well, so I have some secrets, plus a little magic.”

Lucy led her through the double doors into the house. She turned right and powered her way down the long corridor. “Whoa!” called Bridie in a bid to catch up.

“Sorry,” said Lucy. “This way,” they passed the stairwell and turned left into the sitting room.

Bridie was surprised at the size of the house. It hadn’t looked so big from the front. She remarked on it and Lucy explained.

“This old shack is falling to pieces. There’s only one usable room upstairs and Amelia’s in there. This part looks small against that huge arch with double doors and the building next to it. That’s where the old coaches used to pull in. There’s a huge stable round the back but Amelia’s got that done out as a gym. The building on the other side of the arch is the old tap room and what’s left of a waiting room. It’s all unusable now and not worth fixing up.”

“I know the feeling.” Bridie joked.

The living room was long but widened out at the far end into a dining room. Bridie saw a dining table larger than her and Rayn’s entire caravan living space.

The table had only five seats, leaving one end free for Lucy’s chair. A flat screen television adorned one wall; another one boasted an overloaded bookcase and several potted plants that blended well with the quiet, tasteful decor. Under the larger window stood a large music centre with the largest speakers Bridie had ever seen. The shelves were full to over flowing with vinyl records and hundreds of CDs, all of classical music. Bridie offered up a silent prayer that she and Rayn could avoid the potential threat to their sanity.