The Cure of Souls (29 page)

He felt useless – worse than that, faithless; he didn’t believe this exercise was helping anyone, least of all the murder victim. He didn’t know why they were here at all, what Stock was after.
He felt superfluous and embarrassed, an extra. He felt Merrily was being made a fool of – joke vicar. He felt an irrational and unusual urge to put a stop to this melodrama, demand an explanation – what Prof Levin, with style and finesse, would have done ages ago.

Only two people were taking this seriously now, pressing on.

‘Stand up,’ Stock said tiredly to his wife. ‘Please.’ It was clear to Lol now that, whether Stock believed in the power of the Holy Spirit or not, this was something he still very much wanted to happen.

Stephie came languidly to her feet, stood by the bed. Merrily moved into the centre of the room, and they formed a small circle, the boards creaking.

‘Lord God, our Heavenly Father,’ Merrily began, ‘you, who neither slumber nor sleep, bless this bedroom…’

Water flying again like a handful of diamonds. The bedroom formally cleansed and blessed, but nothing, for Lol, seemed to have changed. At the end, flask in hand, Merrily stood at the top of the stairs. Her forehead was gleaming. She faced the bed.

‘Lord God…’ Her voice was louder now, Lol sensing defiance. ‘Holy, blessed and glorious Trinity.’ With her right hand, she made the sign of the cross. ‘Bless…’ Another cross. ‘… hallow and…’ again. ‘… sanctify this home, that in it there may be joy and gladness, peace and love, health and…’

The noise came out of her surplice. She drew a wretched breath and closed her eyes, carried on.

‘… goodness, and thanksgiving always… to You, Father, Son and…’

It didn’t stop; it shrilled and shrilled, piercing the prayer like a skewer, over and over.

‘… Holy Spirit,’ Merrily’s voice shook. ‘And let Your blessing rest upon this house and those who…’

With a peal of pure joy, Stephanie Stock reeled back on to the bed. A shoulder strap slipped all the way down, half uncovering a breast, with two livid scratches forking up from the nipple.

‘I think you’d better answer that, vicar,’ Stephie squeaked, convulsed. ‘It might be God.’

The minutes after midday. A brutal sun. Global warming: so un-British.
Christ
. Merrily pressed her back against the ouside brick wall. She’d pulled off her surplice, and she buried her face in it for a moment.

‘I’m so… so sorry.’

‘These things happen.’ Stock was beside her, sour with sweat.

‘I switched it off. I was sure I’d switched it off. I distinctly remember switching it
off
.’

‘You don’t understand.’ He leaned his face into hers, suddenly almost aggressive, his eyes red and squinting in the full sun. ‘These… things… happen
here
. They happen. I thought you
knew
this stuff.’

In a pocket of Merrily’s cassock, the mobile phone went again.

‘Answer it,’ Stock said. ‘Go on… answer it. There’ll be nobody there. I guarantee there’ll be nobody there.’

‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘
You
don’t have to go.’

Skirt hitched up, shoes kicked off, she was squatting at the top end of the bed, her head back against the wooden wall. She raised a hand. A double click, and two of the bulkhead lights went out, leaving only the one over the bed still on. She was very much in shadow now, and there was no doubt at all any more. She was from his dreams.

‘Look.’ She was reaching down now, to the side of the bed, then underneath. A rustling. ‘Remember…’

Merrily had left very quickly, making the sign of the cross, then almost stumbling down the stairs, with her phone still screeching; she couldn’t seem to switch it off. Stock was right behind her, Lol making to follow, until Stephanie had called him, sultry siren in a slippery tennis dress, slipping off. She glanced down at it, then back at Lol, blinking hard as if trying to wake up. ‘He won’t come back,’ she said rapidly. ‘He’ll see the
vicar off and then he’ll go to the pub, drink himself stupid, come crawling home in the early hours. Collapse on the couch, like the sad pig he’s become.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What’s to be sorry about?’ She lifted a forefinger, crooking it at him. Baring her teeth. She said something he didn’t understand, which began with a sibilance. ‘
Usha
…’ He didn’t like it. He started down the wooden steps. It was the sound that made him look back – he had to – and he saw her haloed under the utility lamp, fingered by the slitted sunlight.

Garlanded again.

‘…
A kam mangela
.’

She was breathing hard, her breath surrounding her, it seemed, like a chilled mist.

‘I warn you,’ he heard, ‘don’t say no to me now.’

The voice came rolling warmly out of the phone, so loud Merrily had to pull it away from her ear. Stock heard and
hmmmph
ed and walked away, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets.

‘Merrily! Wasn’t sure I’d get you. Knew you couldn’t be in church, this time of day. Least, I
thought
you wouldn’t.’

‘Charlie?’

‘You had lunch yet, Merrily?’

‘Charlie, listen, I’m with somebody right now.’

‘Oh, I
am
sorry,’ Charlie Howe said. ‘Just that I’ve got some information for you, my dear. Talking to Brother Morrell last night about this sad business with the Shelbone girl, and a couple of things rather clicked into place, and I thought…
I
thought you ought to know about them, that’s all. And, of course, I also thought you might like some lunch.’

‘Well, thanks, but… actually, I don’t feel too hungry. I was thinking of—Well, it’s been a complicated morning.’

‘A coffee, then. I’ll be here for an hour or so yet.’

‘Where?’

‘The Green Dragon in Broad Street? If you don’t manage to show up, look, give me a ring tonight – though I’ll be out till
quite late. But you might find it worth your while, I’ll say n’more than that.’

‘All right. Thanks. That’s very good of—Charlie, how did you get this number?’

He laughed. ‘That Sophie Hill’s a hard one to crack, but her armour’s got its weak points, like everyone else’s. My, you do sound a bit subdued, girl. Nothing else going wrong in your life, is there? Can’t take on
all
the troubles of the world.’

‘No.’ She saw Gerard Stock walking back towards her and realized how badly she wanted to get away from here. ‘I’ll try and get over there. I’ll do my best.’

Gerard Stock had made an irritable circuit of the yard and, as he came beefing back, she saw the change at once and got in first.

‘Gerard, would you do something for me?’ He looked suspicious. ‘If I give you some prayers, would you be sure to say them?’

He stared at her.

‘I’ve got some appropriate ones printed out in a case in the car,’ she said. ‘I’d like you to say them at specific times. Both of you, if possible. If not… one of you will do.’

‘That going to help, is it, Merrily?’

For the first time, he was challenging her. Was this because she’d quite clearly messed up in there? Or was it because his wife was no longer with them?
So where is she? And where’s Lol?

‘It
will
help,’ she assured him. ‘But I’d also like to come back again. I think this may need more attention. And more preparation than we were able to give it today.’

‘You and liddle Lol?’

She sighed. ‘Like I said, I’ve known Lol Robinson for some time, although I didn’t know he was living here. He’s somebody I can trust, that’s all.’

‘He’s a bloody psychotherapist. That why you brought him? Just tell me the truth.’

‘No. Really.’ She shook her head. ‘And he’s not yet officially a therapist, anyway.’

‘So what was it that made up your mind?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What I’m asking’ – he tilted his head, scrutinizing her sideways – ‘is what happened, liddle lady, to make you decide I wasn’t after all just a scheming townie trying to shaft his neighbours?’

‘I’d never decided you were.’

‘Because something
did
happen in there, didn’t it?’

She took a breath. ‘All right, something happened.’

‘So tell me. I’ve got to go on living here.’

‘Tell
me
something. What does sulphur mean to you?’

‘Why?’

‘Is there anything around here that might… or might once have… released sulphur fumes?’

‘Not now. Not any more.’

‘Meaning what?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll show you.’

She followed him back into the kitchen. The gloom seemed at once oppressive – or was she imagining that? He went straight to the wall where the implements hung, brought down a short pole with what looked like an ashpan from a stove or grate attached. He sniffed at it.

‘Can’t smell anything now.’ He thrust it towards her. ‘Can you?’

‘What is it?’

‘Was known, I’m told, as a brimstone tray. Used for feeding rolls of sulphur into the furnace.’

‘Why’d they do that?’

‘Some sort of fumigation. It also apparently made the drying hops turn yellow, which the brewers preferred for some reason. Made the beer look even more like piss, I don’t know. I don’t think they do it any more.’

‘Would sulphur have any special interest for Stewart Ash? Can you think of—?’

‘You’re saying you smelled sulphur.’

‘Quite powerfully.’

He tilted his head again. ‘Fire and brimstone… Merrily?’

‘That was what it smelled like. Could be argued it was subjective, I suppose.’

‘Oh…
subjective
.’ Stock held the wooden shaft of the brimstone tray with both hands like a spade. ‘There’s a good psychologist’s word. Why don’t we ask
Lol
what he thinks?’

‘Like you said, things are inclined to go awry in there. A few minor elements which, when you put them together, suggest a volatile atmosphere. Not necessarily connected with the murder of Stewart Ash.’

‘Volatile?’

‘I
would
like to come back, Mr Stock.’ She saw Lol in the doorway. ‘What about tonight?’

‘To do what?’

‘There are quite a few things—’

Stock hurled the brimstone tray to the stone with cacophonous force.

Merrily flinched but didn’t move. ‘—things we can still try.’

‘You don’t really know what the fuck you’re doing, do you?’ Stock snarled.

Lol walked in.

‘No… geddout… both of you.’ Stock picked up the chalice and the Tupperware box of communion wafers, shoved them in the airline bag, tossed the bag to the flags near Merrily’s feet. ‘You’re a waste of time, Merrily. I heard you were a political appointment.’

Merrily bit her lip.

‘Been better off with the fucking arse-bandit,’ Stock said.

‘Well…’ Lol picked up the bag. ‘This is actually quite reassuring. For a while back there, I was almost convinced you’d been possessed by the spirit of a nice man.’

Stock looked at him silently, then back at Merrily. He was waiting for them to go.

Merrily paused at the door. ‘I’d like to come back. If not me, then someone else.’

‘Geddout,’ Stock said.

‘M
ERRILY
!’ C
HARLIE
H
OWE
stood up, tossing his
Telegraph
to one of the tables in the hotel reception area. He was wearing a creased cream suit and a yellow tie with the lipsticked impression of a woman’s red lips printed on it, as though it had been kissed. He looked genuinely delighted to see her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he steered her into the coffee lounge. ‘What a job you’ve got, girl: devils and demons on a wonderful summer’s day.’

She’d shed the cassock, was back in the T-shirt. ‘How d’you know I wasn’t doing a wedding?’

‘Contacts.’ Charlie tapped his long leathery nose.

‘Sophie’ll be mortified.’

‘When Mrs Hill wouldn’t tell me where you were, look, nigh on forty years of being a detective told me a wedding wasn’t an option.’

‘Smart.’

‘Pathetic, more like.’ He pointed to a window table. ‘Over there?’

‘Fine.’ She followed him. ‘Why pathetic?’

‘’Cause I miss it, of course.’ They sat down. ‘Don’t let any retired CID man tell you he don’t miss it. I’m even jealous of my own daughter.’

‘
I
’m jealous of your daughter,’ Merrily said ambivalently.

Charlie laughed and patted her wrist. ‘Scones,’ he said. ‘I feel like some scones. You don’t diet, do you?’

‘My whole job’s a diet.’

‘Scones, my love,’ he called to the waitress before she’d even made it to the table. ‘Lashings of jam and heaps of fresh cream. And coffee.’

‘Just spring water for me, please, Charlie, I’m afraid I don’t have very long. I’m sorry.’

She and Lol were due to meet at the Deliverance office in the gatehouse at five. Lol had said he had things to tell her, but neither of them had wanted to hang around Knight’s Frome. It was a blessing, in Merrily’s view, that someone like Lol had been there, seen the way it had gone, the two faces of Gerard Stock.

‘We better get down to it, then,’ Charlie said. ‘Brother Shelbone.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Not wrong about that one, were you, Merrily? As for the little lass…’

‘Little lass?’

He looked pained. ‘Give me some credit, girl. This suicidal Shelbone child and that kiddie getting messages from her dear dead mother, courtesy of Allan Henry’s stepdaughter – one and the same, or what?’

‘You never retired at all, did you?’

‘I tell you, my sweet,’ said Charlie Howe, ‘the longer you live in this little county, the more you wonder how anybody manages to keep anything a secret. There are connections a-crisscrossing here that you will not believe.’

‘Really?’

‘She was very lucky, mind – the child. The version I heard, the mother only found out because she’d got a headache herself, and saw the aspirins were down to about three in the bottom of the jar. Another half-hour and your colleague over in Dilwyn would’ve had a
very
sad funeral.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘No cry for help, this one. Kiddie must’ve been messed up big-time. You were dead right, and Brother Morrell was dead wrong, out of touch.’