Hungry Moon (14 page)

^{'I don't know what I saw, and I don't want to know.' He slowed the van and clenched his hands on the wheel as if that would quiet him. 'But I'll tell you one thing - I wouldn't have a child of mine buried there if it was the last graveyard on earth.'}

^TWENTY

^{June was full of righteous anger when she came back from the Christian shop. 'Hazel didn't want to say much, but I got it out of her. He found them dancing on the graves and throwing the wreaths about. Either they thought they could get their own back on the town that way or they were high on drugs. I've never heard anything so pathetic'}

^{Brian blinked at her from where he sat hunched behind the counter. 'I hear they're planning to move.'}

^{'Good riddance. They'd better not try to say goodbye to Andrew.' She glanced around the shop. 'Why are you sitting dreaming in the gloom like I don't know what? You'll have people thinking we're shut.'}

^{When she switched on the fluorescent tubes, the interior of the shop jerked forward, closed around him as the street under the padded sky fell back. 'Sitting in the dark like an old spider,' she said, and brushed away a star-shaped web between two stoves in the window. 'What's been wrong with you these past few days?'}

^{'Some kind of summer germ, I expect. Maybe I need more fresh air.'}

^{'You can collect the boy from school, then. He was saying you don't any more just yesterday. Take him for a walk if you like, while I've time off from the other shop. And if you don't feel any better, go to the doctor. Even Godwin does.'}

^{Brian closed his eyes, but her voice probed the nervous orange dimness where he was trying to hide. 'You'd tell me if there was anything else, wouldn't you? Godwin says we mustn't keep things to ourselves. Bring them out into the open where they can be dealt with, that's what we're supposed to do.'}

^{'I know what he says,' Brian mumbled, feeling as if she kept dragging him out of a long, dim tunnel that was himself. If only he could go all the way down there, he might stop remembering for at least a little while.}

^{'You aren't blaming me, are you? I know you must be frustrated. It's only that I'm afraid Andrew might hear us. And I still think he's backward because God was punishing us for what we used to do.'}

^{The shop bell rang. Brian's eyes twitched open. A young woman wearing a loose overall with a crucifix stitched on the front was striding up to the counter. 'Mr Bevan? Godwin says would you come and see him now if you don't mind.'}

^{Brian thought of hiding in the tunnel of himself, of hunching himself up so tightly that they wouldn't be able to ferret him out. Once they went for help he could make a run for it, onto the moors. But June was watching him, not knowing whether to be proud of him or nervous, and it seemed he could only do what he was told.}

^{He followed the young woman into the street. Her overall sketched her body, and he felt his groin stirring until the sun broke through the clouds. He had almost to close his eyes as she led him to the hotel. He could feel his skin stinging wherever it wasn't covered.}

^{The relative dimness of the hotel felt like ointment on}

^{his skin, soothed his eyes. The young woman announced them at the reception desk, then took him up to Mann's room. At the moment when he had to leave the rickety lift, Brian's steps grew heavier, as he remembered all that he'd done and felt and would have to confess.}

^{'Okay,' Mann called when the young woman knocked at his door. She stood aside for Brian, who stumbled into the room more quickly than he meant to. It must have been one of the smallest bedrooms in the hotel, just a single bed and a sink under a mirror bolted to the wall. The bareness made him think of an interrogation room.}

^{Mann was sitting on the bed. His angular face looked thinner than ever, tight and ready as a fist. He sat forward, blue eyes gleaming. 'Close the door, Brian. I'd appreciate your help.'}

^{This was so unexpected that Brian had to lean against the door. 'What can I do?'}

^{'I need rope, all you have. Better still, rope ladders.'}

^{'You'd be better off with the mountain rescue people. They'd be able to see you were safe, as well.'}

^{'They don't want me to do what I have to do. They say it's too dangerous. Seems like they don't trust in God as much as they should. Won't you do this for God? I'll pay for everything you provide.'}

^{Brian wanted to help, yearned to if that would relieve him of his guilt, but it wasn't that simple. 'I haven't any ladders at the shop. I'd have to order them.'}

^{'I'd need them early next week.'}

^{'I could drive over to Sheffield.' If Mann trusted him so much, perhaps he wasn't as guilty as he thought he was.}

^{'Would you do that? I'd be most grateful, and you don't need me to tell you God would be.' He glanced down at his clasped hands, then at Brian. 'I want to ask you one more favour. Don't tell anyone what you'll be doing for me, okay? I don't want our enemies to learn of it and try to stop me.'}

^{'Stop you doing what?'}

^{Mann gazed at him until Brian wished he hadn't asked, felt as if he'd betrayed himself by asking. But Mann was only deliberating, apparently. 'I mean to take God down into the cave,' he said, almost to himself. 'Whatever is there is nc match for God.'}

^{His eyes focused sharply on Brian. 'I told you that because you'd agreed not to say anything. I'll see you Sunday at the rally,' he said with the hint of a warning in his voice, 'or before then if you get to Sheffield first. Here, let me give you a hundred pounds, and if you spend more, just show me the bill.'}

^{Brian stuffed the notes deep into his pocket. Mann was already sinking back on the bed, folding his hands on his chest, his face relaxing a little, perhaps as much as it ever did. Brian closed the door quietly and strolled along the corridor, the wad of notes brushing repetitively against his thigh. It seemed a token that he could redeem himself, or even that he'd been judged and found worthy. Surely Mann could tell if anyone could.}

^{He hadn't meant her to fall, he reminded himself. .He wished he could believe he'd dreamed her fall, as he'd dreamed the other night of going up to the cave and creeping behind Mann's sentry there. Perhaps that dream was a symptom of the fever he'd caught, some midsummer illness worse than hay fever, for even the thought of the dream made his skin crawl. He still felt in danger of confessing if he didn't keep tight control of himself, and if he confessed to making the young woman fall he was sure he'd be suspected of far worse. At least there would be only one more rally before Mann went down the cave.}

^{Clouds had closed over Moonwell again. The subdued light allowed him to step confidently into the square. He'd take Andrew for a walk on the moors. He waited by the main door of the school while the children swarmed out. The last few came out by themselves, their faces sullen or smiling at a secret or bright with faith. Brian kept glancing up in case the clouds were about to break, and so he didn't notice Andrew until the boy had walked past him to Katy at the gate.}

^{Katy spent most of her time at the Christian shop now, perhaps atoning for having stolen from the Bevans. Her presence at the school made Brian feel as if June didn't trust him. 'Here, Andrew,' he called. 'It's your dad. Here I am.'}

^{Andrew turned clumsily, his schoolbag bumping one scabby knee. 'It's all right, Katy,' Brian said. 'I'll take him.'}

^{'Mrs Bevan said I were to bring him home. She said you had to go and see Mr Mann.'}

^{'He needed my help,' Brian said defensively, and reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to tell. 'You can say to my wife I took the lad. We're going for a walk. You'd like that, wouldn't you, son?'}

^{Andrew nodded so feebly that Brian could almost have hit him for making Katy think he didn't like to be with his father. 'The rescue man said it were going to be misty on the moor,' Katy said.}

^{'I didn't say we were going there, did I?' Brian felt found out, as if he were the criminal, not her. 'All right then,' he muttered at Andrew, 'we'll go home.'}

^{'I'd better come,' Katy said. She must be afraid that June would think she wasn't to be trusted even to collect Andrew, but it seemed to Brian that she was making sure he didn't go on the moors with Andrew. What business was it of hers? The boy had to do what his father told him. Brian was tempted to take him up anyway, except that she would only go telling tales to June, upsetting her. He walked faster instead, making Katy pant and stumble to keep up as he dragged Andrew along by one hand.}

^{'Thanks anyway, Katy,' June said. 'I'm sorry, I didn't realize.'}

^{She sounded to Brian as if she were apologizing for him. 'I'll be going to Sheffield tomorrow, if you're interested.'}

^{'What are you going there for?'}

^{'On Godwin's behalf.'}

^{He'd expected that to drive her doubts away, but she was still trying not to frown. 'Why?'}

^{'I'll tell you later,' he said, and thought of another way to justify himself to Katy. 'Listen, Andrew, you tell your new teacher that if she wants a bit more room than she's got at Mrs Scragg's, we'd be happy to have her.'}

^{The moment June nodded he realized that would give them even less opportunity for sex. He felt as if he'd tricked himself. At least June's doubts should vanish once she knew what Mann had asked of him, but when he told her after Andrew was in bed, she still looked dubious. She must be worried on Mann's behalf, not suspicious of Brian's story. He was glad to go to bed, to hide in his sleep for a while, until he woke shaking uncontrollably because of what he'd seen: the moon's new face, hatching.}

^{It was more than a full moon. It was swollen and trembling, almost filling the sky and touching the moor. It had more than one face, it had three, one of which vanished before he could glimpse it as the white globe began to turn. It wasn't just trembling, it was cracking open, hatching three shapes the colour of the moon, shapes that unfurled their wings and glowed brighter as they flapped away across the moor. He could still see the new face as they burst forth from it, the face that had been hidden until the familiar markings turned away. The new face was his own.}

^{Of course it was the dream that was making him shiver, not the frosty light of the remnant of moon outside the window. All the same, he felt as if the light were making his body uncontrollable, hardly recognizable. He was tempted to go to the mirror to prove to himself that he didn't have the moon's face, however unfamiliar it felt, but he would be bound to wake June. Here on the edge of nightmare he felt vulnerable again, at the mercy of whoever might find out about him. If}

^{Mann found the hiker's body, he would never be able to keep from confessing. But Mann needn't find the body -at least, he needn't be able to tell anyone about it. His safety would be in Brian's hands.}

^{TWENTY ONE}

^{'Bit summery today, isn't it?'}

^{'Too bloody summery by half. And there'll be more of it before the year's over.'}

^{'Look at them all grinning like idiots. You'd think the sun was shining just for them.'}

^{'More like they think it's shining out of Godwin Mann's arse.'}

^{'One of them won't be grinning when we've finished with them. Are you ready then, Mr Gloom?'}

^{'Let's join the happy throng, Mr Despondency.'}

^{Eustace stepped out of his cottage when he saw that the crowd was thinning. A few stragglers hurried along the High Street on their way to the cave. Hardly anyone chatted to him on his rounds since the fiasco at the pub. Maybe they'd rather God delivered their letters. 'Like pigeon post, only holier. Pentecostal post,' he muttered as he closed his gate.}

^{He made his way through the deserted streets and climbed toward the sky. Large white clouds unfurled across the sun and drifted onward. An old man who lived in Kiln Lane was struggling up the last few yards before the moor. When Eustace offered him a hand, he grumbled, 'I can manage.' For years Eustace had been Moon-well's unofficial social worker, checking that old people didn't need help while he was on his rounds, but now some of them wouldn't even open their doors to him. No wonder someone must have been delighted to make him deliver the letter to Phoebe Wainwright - but before today's rally was over, he'd blow their halo off if he could. He owed Phoebe that much.}

^{The choir was singing as he stepped onto the charred moor. He followed the path of blackened stubble through the ash to the stone bowl. All of Mann's followers, which seemed to include virtually the whole of Moonwell, stood above the cave. 'About time you joined us, Eustace,' Mrs Scragg said loudly from where she stood, watching the children as if their parents weren't with them.}

^{'Mr Gloom to you,' he almost said. She'd always told him he was slow at school, the old bitch. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if Phoebe didn't deliver so many children for the Scraggs to cow, but he still meant to expose the writer of the letter. He walked faster, staring at hundreds of faces he'd seen at their front doors in answer to his knock, every one of them sealed into the same pious blankness now. 'Just enough masks to go round for God's matinee . . . ' Even the dressmaker's look of contemptuous triumph as she realized he'd come to the rally seemed preferable, though he would have liked to spit in her face.}

^{He came to rest opposite Mann as a large mottled cloud closed over the sun. Though he was beyond the crowd, he felt unsettlingly close to the cave. Perhaps he'd walked around the bowl too fast; the crowd seemed to be turning in a slow dance, a whirlpool whose centre was the cave. He closed his eyes to try to regain his balance, to be ready to prowl in search of faces that looked guilty when Mann started urging them to confess. He'd know which one to stare at until they couldn't keep quiet any longer, he was sure he would. But he was still trying to settle himself when the choir fell silent. In the stillness, which the faint sound of church bells was too distant to trouble, Mann said, 'I won't ask anyone to confess here today.'}

^{Eustace's eyes snapped open. 'I know you're all here because you believe,' the evangelist was saying. 'God's love is in every one of us now, and we've only to try our best to be worthy of it. He loves you for offering this place back to Him. Now I want to ask you all to do Him one more favour. I want you all to join me here at noon on St. John the Baptist Day to help me make this God's place forever.'}

^{His voice echoed from the monotonous bare slopes and resounded in the cave. 'I know that ordinarily it would be a day for trading, but I want to ask you as you love God to close your shops that day and join me here. All you'll have to do is pray. I'll do the rest. My faith tells me I can.'}

^{Eustace remembered what Mann had said to him the day they'd met on the road into Moonwell: that Mann was facing his greatest challenge. He struggled to control his dizziness, his sense of being drawn down toward the hub of the whirling. He was afraid to walk in case he fell over, but he still had to search for whoever didn't want to be noticed.}

^{'I guess there are still a few people in Moonwell who aren't with us,' Mann said. 'A very few. There's surely no reason for them to be up here St. John the Baptist Day, and I'd appreciate it if someone who knows them would tell them so.' Without more ado, he sank to his knees. 'And now-'}

^{Now, Eustace thought, there would be prayers and hymns, and he would have lost his chance. Rage shuddered through him at the thought of the letter-writer hiding in plain sight, praying. His head was swimming so much that he didn't realize at first he was speaking aloud. 'There's someone here who's not a Christian,' he said.}

^{Every face turned to him. He had the largest audience he'd ever had, and it froze him, his mouth hanging open, his body swaying uncontrollably as it fought to keep its balance. It took him a moment to realize what they were all thinking. No, he tried to say, I don't mean me, I'm not the one who has to confess. But their gaze and their feelings - contempt, encouragement, impatience, reassurance - sucked him in, and he was falling into the dark.}

^{At least, his awareness was. His body was still standing, and he could hear his voice, distant and unstoppable. He didn't know what he was saying; all he knew was that the only way out of the dark was to fight his way back to his voice. Now he could almost make out what it was saying, and he was suddenly desperate to stop it. But when at last he struggled out of the dark and back into control of himself, back to feeling the ashen wind in his face as a cloud dragged across the sun, the look of the crowd told him it was too late.}