Hungry Moon (17 page)

^{He stepped forward inadvertently, bumping into two people in front of him. The rope jerked beneath the clouding sky, and every jerk might worsen the flaw in the rope. 'Let's pray,' one of Mann's watchers by the pitons said. Brian stepped back, trying to pretend he hadn't moved. As the prayers began, he joined in fiercely, almost shouting, and then he glanced sideways at June. His body stiffened, prickling, although the sun had clouded over. If he hadn't glanced at her like that, she might have told herself that he'd only stumbled, but now he was sure that she knew.}

^{TWENTY SIX}

^{Late that afternoon Diana found she could no longer bear the waiting. She'd walked the length of the empty town twice, listening to hymns that drifted from the moor, telling herself that as long as the rally was singing, nothing could be wrong. She'd looked into the church and rung the presbytery bell, but there was no sign of Father O'Connell. She rather hoped he'd thought of someone in the church hierarchy to consult, though she suspected he felt bound to stay to see what happened. It seemed that Delbert's warning had come too late.}

^{Delbert had left them with Mann's vision of the calendar and sidled out of the presbytery, glancing fearfully about to make sure that nobody saw him. 'He did say he'd needed psychiatric treatment,' Diana had commented, but she'd seen in the priest's eyes that he didn't think the warning could be explained away so simply, any more than she did. 'All we can do for now is keep watch,' he'd said.}

^{Her frustration dogged her through the deserted town and sent her at last toward the moor. The hell with being told to stay away - she couldn't bear not to know what was happening. The ashen sky was growing darker; clouds like veils of sooty cobweb drifted across the grey, seemed to cling overhead. Above the path the sun was a blurred patch of white, a spider's cocoon embedded in the clouds. Wind flaked ash from charred stumps of heather. She was intensely aware of the moors, the unchanging lonely slopes stretching beyond the horizon to the roads where traffic might be passing, unaware of Moonwell. Perhaps nobody knew it was here any longer. She wished she'd called Nick to remind him. Surely it would still be here tomorrow.}

^{The charred path was trampled black as oil. The closer she came to the sound of praying, the more of an outcast she felt. Couldn't they all be right, and Diana mistaken? After all, there was a word for people like her who were convinced they knew some truth that nobody else could see - but the trouble was that she would be happy to be proved wrong, hardly the attitude of a schizophrenic. She crept up to the edge of the stone bowl and peered in.}

^{'Though you walk through the valley of darkness you needn't fear any evil,' the crowd that surrounded the cave was praying. Diana glanced about for Mann, hoping that she couldn't locate him because he hadn't arrived yet - and then she saw the ropes hanging slackly into the dark.}

^{The sight dismayed her even more than she could have predicted. If it was so easy to climb down there, why had nobody done it before? Surely not because climbers had been turned away until the time was right, yet the sight of the cave growing darker under the darkening sky filled her with a sense of dreadful imminence, until she could hardly breathe. The crowd, the children especially, looked vulnerable, too close to the edge, too close to flee if anything rose from the dark. Her panic sent her around the bowl, craning her neck to see more of the ropes, of the gaping cave. She didn't realize how visible she was until the crowd turned on her.}

^{Their hostility felt like a blast from the cave. The children's faces were the worst, all of them wishing her away as if she had no right to be there, even Sally blinking through her precarious spectacles at her, even Ronnie, who'd clasped his hands together as if he'd rather hide them in his pockets. Perhaps she really shouldn't be there, she thought, retreating awkwardly toward the path. Perhaps all she was doing was undermining their prayers. It was St John the Baptist Day, she reminded herself, not Harry Moony's - and then she remembered what John the Baptist's fate had been. She stared about at the blackened, lifeless slopes, and realized something that she needed desperately to feel: she wasn't entirely alone. There was still Nathaniel Needham.}

^{She left the burned slopes behind as quickly as she could, but that wasn't especially reassuring. Green slopes glowed sullenly around her beneath the stifled sky, and she was uncomfortably aware of the dozens of abandoned mineshafts, the maze through which she was picking her way. They led her thoughts straight to the cave through which Mann was venturing. She could almost see the dripping walls, shifting as the light from his helmet swayed; she could almost feel how his feet slithered on the mud that coated the floor of the passage. She let out a gasp of relief at the sight of Needham's cottage.}

^{He was standing in the doorway, his knuckly hands gripping the stick that supported him. His long, wizened face was upturned, listening. As she approached, it swung toward her, his stick pointing at her like a dowser's rod. 'Who's there?' he cried.}

^{'It's Diana Kramer, Mr Needham.'}

^{'Did you come past the cave? What are they doing there?'}

^{'Praying and singing hymns,' she said, and with an effort, 'Waiting for Godwin Mann to come back up.'}

^{'He's done it then, has he? The damned fool. What kind of a preacher is he if he doesn't even realize he's putting his own soul at risk? Who does he think he is?'}

^{'I'm not quite sure what you mean.'}

^{'Didn't I tell you one reason the druids feared the moon so much was that anyone they sacrificed to it would never go on to the afterlife? Didn't I tell you they'd be part of that thing down there for ever?'}

^{‘Well, no, you didn't,' Diana murmured, rather wishing that he hadn't now. 'But then he's not a sacrifice.'}

^{Needham gazed blankly at her. If she could read terror in his eyes, perhaps it was her own. 'Just about everyone in town is up there praying for him,' she said. 'That must count for something.'}

^{Needham's eyes flickered nervously. 'Not enough.'}

^{A phrase of a hymn came drifting, blurred as mist, across the slopes. Nothing could have changed yet at the cave, but the sound, thin and lonely on the moor, made her shiver. 'I wish I knew what he was doing,' she blurted.}

^{'Then you should be there watching, not bothering me.'}

^{'Mann doesn't want anyone there who isn't totally for him.'}

^{'They'll blame you anyway,' Needham said with a doleful smile. 'Are they all up there? Hasn't anyone gone down with him?'}

^{'No, it's just him and his miner's helmet and all the faith he can carry.'}

^{'Thinks that's enough, does he? Happen he thinks he's God,' Needham said with a furious contempt that she thought concealed fear. Or perhaps she was projecting her own fear, because she was wondering how she could know Mann was alone or what he was wearing.}

^{'At least I imagine he's on his own,' she said, reminding herself that it was just the impression she'd had on her way across the moor. The trouble was that the more she tried to deny it, the more real it seemed. 'If he gets into difficulty, I'm sure someone will go down after him.'}

^{'Bloody useless if they do, and they won't like what they find.'}

^{'What might that be?'}

^{His face seemed to shrivel. 'I reckon we'll all see soon enough.'}

^{He was making her feel worse. 'Well, I just came to let you know what was happening,' she lied. 'I should be getting back.'}

^{'Aye, someone ought to be there who can see what's really going on.'}

^{The wind had dropped. Layers of cloud that looked progressively blacker were gathering over the moors. The dimness made the green slopes appear to tremble, to start forward as if the earth were shifting. On the horizon the mountains had begun to disappear into the clouds. It was early evening, but it felt more like dusk. She made her way between the open shafts as quickly as she could for fear of being trapped by the dark.}

^{The sky sank toward her as she descended the slope. The clouds were so dark now that she couldn't see their movement; the mass of blackness seemed to have stopped overhead, filling the sky. The lurid glow of grass and heather made her eyes ache. The restless mouths of shafts led her thoughts back to Mann. She couldn't help reluctantly admiring him: if she felt so vulnerable in the dark up here, how much worse must it be for him? He was alone with his light down there under the moors, the light groping toward whatever had been thrown down there, and what would happen when the light found it? She ground her knuckles into her lips, for she could see the light swaying on the roof above her, not of clouds but of rock.}

^{She glared desperately at the dimming slopes. She had to go home, lie down. The silence and darkness might just be the threat of a storm, and surely the light had been lightning. Her mouth was parched, her skull felt soft and throbbing. The moors shuddered whenever she glanced at them, as if the ancient rock were shaking off its vegetation, breaking through. Whatever happened at the rally would have to take place without her. But she was congratulating herself on having found her way between the shafts and back onto the path when she heard a shout from the direction of the cave.}

^{Over there the clouds piled above the jagged rock were almost black. A movement bright as knives against the clouds made her start, but it was only a flight of birds, three of them above the cave. Silence held her unable to stir, and then she heard the voice again. 'Are you all right down there?' someone was shouting.}

^{It was nothing to do with Diana, they'd told her to stay away - but she began to run toward the cave, her feet skidding on the ash. She wished she knew where the sun was behind the overcast. The stone bowl was so silent that she thought the rally had broken up. But no, the cave was still surrounded, the crowd peering down into the mouth that was even darker than the sky. Movement drew her eyes to the near edge, where several of Mann's followers were hauling on one of the ropes. They were pulling someone up out of the dark.}

^{The shout jerked at her heart. One of Mann's helpers was leaning down toward the cave, so precariously that she was terrified she would see him fall. 'Godwin, are you all right?' he shouted.}

^{The hollow croaking must have been Mann clearing his throat, for the next moment they heard his voice. It sounded gigantic in the cave. 'Never better,' it called up. 'It's done at last. Praise God now as much as you like.'}

^{Someone began to sing 'Jesus Loves Me,' and the crowd took up the hymn. Their voices sounded muffled by the black sky, cut off by the stone bowl. They ignored Diana, who watched Mann's helpers hauling on the rope, the pile of it behind them writhing slightly. There couldn't be much left to haul, she thought, just as a dark object rose into view over the edge of the cave.}

^{It was Mann. He was wearing an overall and boots, but nothing else that she could see: no helmet, no rucksack. How long had he been without a light down there? The front of his overall was bulging and muddy; whatever had been stitched on it was indistinguishable. He turned his head, surveying the rally as the hymn gave way to cheers and deafening applause, and Diana saw that his eyes were almost shut. Perhaps even the darkness up here hurt them after he'd been down in the utter dark. He began to smile - she saw his teeth glint - as his helpers pulled him up to the edge, and then the rope gave way.}

^{The crowd screamed. Those nearest the cave surged forward, and Diana was terrified that some of them would fall. They stumbled back to safety as they saw Mann grab the edge and haul himself lizardlike up the last few feet of rock, out of the cave. Perhaps he bruised his chest in doing so, for he was clutching it as he stalked away from the edge, gazing across the mouth to that part of the crowd where Andrew and his parents stood. Diana told herself that it was only the growing dark which made his smile look so ominous. The crowd was silent, waiting to be sure he wasn't injured. They began cheering again as soon as he said, 'Don't you worry about me. I'm back.'}

^{TWENTY SEVEN}

^{Some of the oaks below Moonwell were so old they had taken root more than once. Branches thick as Craig's paunch had stooped to the soil and rooted themselves. He and Vera spent the afternoon strolling through the tangled woods. They felt more like a church to him than a church would have, especially since the foliage cut off the sounds of gullibility from the moor. Eventually he sat with Vera on a rock upholstered with moss beside a stream that ran through the roots of oaks. The calls of birds pierced the hushing of leaves. When Vera had gazed into the water for a while, he said, 'Remember Hazel didn't know when we were coming back.'}

^{'I know I shouldn't feel they were trying to make sure there wasn't room for us. But I do.'}

^{'They were just being Christians, taking in the homeless.'}

^{'Then why didn't Benedict say they had when you rang him?'}

^{'Maybe he realizes we wouldn't want to be reminded of his priggish friends.'}

^{Mel and Ursula had been staying with the Eddingses since the fire on the moor had driven them out of their tent. Vera had learned that, and other things she liked no better, from Hazel yesterday. 'Well,' Craig said, 'this is very pleasant, sitting here like this by the babbling brook, but it won't get our work done. I'm ready to leave whenever you are.'}

^{'I want to have one more good talk with them first, without anyone losing his temper. There has to be something to like about him or our Hazel wouldn't have married him.'}

^{'He probably feels the same about us. Listen, while I was recuperating yesterday I thought of something we might do for them. See what you think,' Craig said, and told her.}

^{Vera's eyes widened in the growing dimness. 'We could, couldn't we? Why didn't we think of it before? Come on, let's see if they're back yet.'}

^{In any case, the gathering dark would have driven them out of the woods. There must be a storm on the way, and Craig told himself that was why he felt nervous, in case lightning struck the trees anywhere near. They picked their way through the gloomy woods that were growing silent and chill. Roots that he couldn't see tripped him. He hadn't noticed on the way into the woods that so many trees were overgrown with mistletoe; he kept feeling he'd lost his way, especially since they'd strayed out of sight of the road. The soft dim ground hindered him and Vera as they climbed between the looming trees, but surely climbing must lead them back to Moonwell. At last they emerged from under the vault of foliage, two fields distant from the road.}

^{They followed the drystone wall to the road as soon as the aches in their legs began to ease. They climbed the road to the first sight of Moonwell, and Craig experienced a hint of panic he'd suffered while driving. Darkness was thickening above the town as if it were flooding there from all directions at once. It seemed to shrink the buildings, huddling them together, small and fragile under the oppressive sky. The rally was over, for they could see a crowd on the charred edge of the moor.}

^{Hazel and Benedict must have gone straight to the hotel. They were waiting in the lobby when the Wildes limped in. 'Hazel thought you'd got lost,' Benedict said reprovingly, raising his sharp chin and gazing down his long nose at them. 'Let's go up to your room. We don't want to be overheard.'}

^{They all stood in the lift and watched the lit numbers that counted the floors. Nobody spoke until they were in the room beneath the eaves. Then Benedict said, 'I must say you could have chosen your time better. Things are difficult enough for us just now without Hazel being upset further.'}

^{'Oh,' Craig said heavily, 'I thought Godwin Mann had put your world to rights.'}

^{'Craig,' Vera murmured, reminding him what they'd agreed. He went over to the window, walking away from the argument as far as he could. The dark and the last of the rally were coming down from the moors. 'Your mother has something to say to you, Hazel,' he said.}

^{'Hazel, what do you want more than anything else in the world?'}

^{'Nothing for myself. Benedict's business to improve, I suppose. Things really aren't too good, Mummy, even though we're doing all we can. He's having to go further and further afield to find work.'}

^{Going where his reputation hasn't reached, Craig thought, pressing his lips together and gazing down into the square. Here came Godwin Mann, supported by two of his followers. 'Perhaps you'll benefit from some of the goodwill your evangelist is spreading, Benedict,' Vera said. 'Leaving aside business, Hazel, what do you and Benedict and, let me be honest, your father and I hope you'll have one day?'}

^{'Well, a baby, of course. One day.'}

^{'I knew it,' Vera cried. 'We've been talking it over, and we've decided that's how we want to help you financially. We'll draw up a deed, and we'll buy things for the little one as soon as we know it's on its way.'}

^{It must be the overall that made Mann look bulkier than his two helpers as they progressed along the line of streetlamps, which were lit despite the early hour. Craig turned away from the window. 'We certainly will if you'll let us. What do you say? Will you accept this as our peace offering?'}

^{'You ought to know you don't need to offer us anything except not being angry with us,' Hazel said, and pulled him away from the window so that she could hug them both.}

^{'We're very grateful,' Benedict said hastily. Craig disengaged himself from the women and went over to him, shook the man's limp, clammy hand. 'That's settled, then,'Craig said.}

^{'You must come home tonight and eat with us,' Hazel cried. 'We'd better hurry home and tell Ursula. She's making the dinner.' By now her tone was apologetic. 'I don't think she and Mel will be staying much longer now Godwin's done what he came to do.'}

^{Craig heard the lift. 'Here he comes now.'}

^{He hadn't meant to stop them talking. He wanted to ask what precisely Mann was supposed to have achieved. They listened as the doors of the lift creaked open, as the three came slowly down the carpeted hall past the Wildes' room. Mann's door closed, and his helpers took the lift down. 'We'll see you in about an hour,' Hazel said then.}

^{Craig wished there were more lights in the room. The idea that Hazel had been nervous about talking while Mann was in the corridor annoyed him, made him uneasy when, damn it, there was no reason to be. He shaved in front of the mirror above the washbowl, changed his clothes, and lay on the bed, but he couldn't relax. All he could do was resolve to have a good time, for Hazel's and Vera's sakes.}

^{He was glad to reach the cottage, even though the cloned Christ was waiting over the hearth. He was glad to be out of the thick gloom under the sooty sky, when by rights it shouldn't even be dusk for hours. He made appreciative noises over Ursula's cooking, spaghetti of various consistencies heaped with charred or almost raw lumps of indeterminate meat. He managed to smile when Mel clapped his hands at the news that Hazel meant to have a baby, cried 'Another life for Christ,' and insisted on leading prayers for the birth.}

^{When Craig raised the question of the rally, he couldn't get a satisfactory answer. 'Godwin was super, just wondrous,' Ursula told him, ladling out a second helping of spaghetti despite his protests. 'He carried God down into the cave, and God drove out the evil. There'll be some changes round here yet, and that can only be good news.' Craig caught Hazel's eye just then and was rewarded with a grimace of sympathy at the way his plate was being loaded. Maybe there was hope for her sense of humour after all.}

^{When he and Vera left, hours later, Hazel gave him an impulsive kiss over the garden gate. He remembered how she'd had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him all those years ago. The impression lingered as he made his way back to the hotel, gripping Vera's hand for fear of being separated from her in the dark that was thicker than ever, breathless as the approach of a storm, even between the streetlamps. He hoped the storm would break and relieve the sense of imminence that set his skin crawling.}