The Cure of Souls (34 page)

‘So who sits in the Bull pew now?’

‘Nobody. People are so superstitious, aren’t they?’

She felt the car slow and turn, and when she opened her eyes the road had become an alley between rows of short wooden pylons. Entwined around them, luxuriant growth seemed to be surging towards the awakening stars.

It was Lol who was shivering. He pushed his compact body back into the seat to stop it, but she felt the tremor and she knew his hands were tightening on the wheel.

‘Time to abandon The Prince of Wales Guide to Making
Stupid Conversation, I think.’ Merrily caught some ash in the palm of her hand. ‘What haven’t you told me?’

Lol watched the road winding between the hop-yards, put on his headlights. ‘So exactly how long have you
been
a vicar?’ he said.

She recognized the church, embedded in shadow, fusing with the bushes above the river bank. There was a light on in the vicarage, just one. It was the kind of light you left on when you went out for the night, to create an illusion of habitation.

The Astra crawled through the village, if you could call it that. There were several cars on the forecourt of the pub. One was a station wagon with its rear hatch flung up, a man pulling out a black tripod.

‘Didn’t take them long, did it?’

Lol drove slowly past. He even managed to give the man a suspicious glance, like a true local in his battered old car. Subtle.
There are rooms at Prof’s studios
, he’d said.
It’s not finished yet, but it’s quite respectable
. Who else would be there?
Only me, in a loft, out in the stables
.

The road curved out of the village, up a slight incline and down again. The Malvern Hills disappeared and reappeared, undulating with lights like gems mounted on a jeweller’s velvet tray.

‘Is this going to help?’ Merrily said. ‘Us coming here?’

‘Trust me, I’m a drop-out trainee psychotherapist.’

‘Well,
I
’m not any kind of psychotherapist.’ She squeezed out her cigarette, turned to look at him, her back resting against the passenger door. ‘But I’ve learned enough about your little ways in the short time we’ve known each other to know that when you’re at your most facetious it usually means you’re also kind of scared.’

Lol turned through a gap in the hedge, went very slowly downhill and eventually came to a stop. She could see the humps of buildings but no lights. What had she expected:
The Prof Levin Studios
, in neon?

‘You’re obviously not scared of the dark, though,’ Merrily said.

‘No, I like the dark.’

‘Yes, you would.’

Lol switched off the engine. ‘When…’ He hesitated. ‘When I first came here… I went out for a walk in the dark. Well, actually, it wasn’t that dark, bit like tonight. I walked down there.’ He pointed through the windscreen to a line of poplar silhouettes. ‘Over the river bridge, then I picked up a path and wandered into a wood. Then I got a bit lost.’

‘Your thing, being lost,’ Merrily said softly.

‘Is it?’

‘But it’s produced some lovely songs. Ask Jane.’

‘She’s just being kind.’

‘She’d take that as a serious insult. Go on – you went for a walk. You got lost.’

‘And then I came to this abandoned hop-yard. Everything cleared or dead, with the poles and the frames naked.’ He paused. ‘And a woman – Stephanie Stock. She was naked, too.’

Merrily stiffened. The summer night gathered around the old car, opaque now like November fog.

D
OWN PAST THE
inn, at the edge of the old harbour, there was a stony footpath, and if you followed it for about half a mile you came to a fairly secret cove. Or at least it
seemed
secret at night; there was probably an oil refinery beyond the headland.

‘You
can’t
.’ Eirion stood with his back to a millpond sea. There were just the two of them on the beach. One of the great things about Pembrokeshire was that you could still find lonely beaches in July.

Jane climbed onto a rock so that she was looking down on him. Post-sunset, the sky was luminous, almost lime green.

‘
What?
’ Hoping her eyes were glittering with an equally dangerous intensity.

Eirion backed off, the heels of his trainers almost in the water. ‘Well, yes, all right, of course you
can
.’ He would always start to sound Welsh when he was agitated. ‘You can do what you want. You’re free, you’re sixteen years old, you’re—’

‘English.’

He moaned to the brilliant sky. ‘Don’t start that again! Please,
please
, don’t hit me with that racism stuff again. They’ve just been brought up to be proud of their language and their culture.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Jane. ‘Their
culture
.’

This evening they’d been to the movies, to a cinema in Fishguard. Well, not actually a cinema, a cinema
club
. Where
they’d seen this thriller, with not-bad car chases and a couple of half-hearted love scenes and a leading actor who Jane recalled from TV and who was moderate totty, in his fresh-faced way.

It had actually helped that it was in Welsh and that snogging had been rendered impractical due to two small girls sitting in between them with their chocolate ripples. It had allowed Jane to contemplate the terrible turn events had taken, and the element of guilt she could no longer reject.

An unexpected wave hit Eirion’s ankles and pooled into his trainers. He groaned. ‘Jane, please don’t do this to me. Stay until the weekend, at least, then we can think of something.’

‘I’ve thought of something. I’ve thought of a taxi. I’ve thought of the nearest station. I’ve thought of… lots of things.’

‘But there’s nothing you can
do
there!’ Eirion sat down in the sand and took off his trainers to empty the sea out of them.

‘I let her down.’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I dumped her in it.’

‘That’s ridic—’

‘Because I didn’t have the guts to say to Riddock, “This is naff, this is dangerous, this is
wrong
.” ’

Jane came down from her rock, and began to ramble up the beach – but slowly, always keeping Eirion in sight. People here still talked about that couple who were murdered years ago on the Pembrokeshire coastal path and nobody was ever caught. English couple, as it happened, on holiday.

‘Jane, we’re all—’ Eirion picked up his trainers and ran barefoot along the sand towards her. ‘We’re all braver after the event. She’s not going to hold it against you. You think she doesn’t understand how hard it is? You think she was never in that position herself, of having to keep her street cred at school?’

‘Huh?’

‘Plus, she’s your mother. Plus, she’s a – you know – a Christian. And also a very nice woman.’

Jane stared at him in pity. ‘Irene, did I even
mention
my mother?’

‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ Eirion said. ‘I’m a stranger on your planet.’

‘OK.’ She stopped. ‘This evening, when I went up to change before we went to see the film, I pinched the cordless from the sitting room – leaving three quid in the dinky little box marked
ffon
, I hasten to add – and I locked myself in the bathroom and found the number from directories, and I tried to ring Amy Shelbone.’

‘Ah.’ He sighed. ‘I did wonder if you might.’

‘She’d fitted me up, Irene. She’d lied. She was supposed to either put that right or give me a bloody good reason why not. She wouldn’t talk to Mum but she’d have to talk to me. Also, I was gonna tell her what a disgusting old slag Riddock was and how she should tell her to piss off out of her life. Try and put her right, you know?’

‘All right.’ She felt Eirion’s hand close around hers. ‘That was a reasonable thing to do, but why’d you have to be so secretive about it?’

‘Wasn’t anything to do with anybody else.’

‘Thanks.’ Eirion had trodden on an old bottle in the sand, and let go of her hand to rub his bare foot.

‘I didn’t mean you. I’m sorry, I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch… Anyway, she wasn’t in. I got her mother, and I said like, when
will
she be in? I didn’t say it was me, of course, just a friend from school. But then her mother, she’s just like… screaming at me: “
Don’t you go claiming to be one of her friends, she hasn’t got any friends, just enemies
.” And then she goes, “
You’re evil, you’re all evil! But you won’t hurt her again, she’s not going back to that school
.” And I’m like…
what
? Gobsmacked, obviously. I mean, come on, let’s get this thing in proportion, you know? Oh, for Christ’s sake, Irene, put your bloody shoes on!’

She walked up a couple of steps, where the beach joined the stony path, and waited for him to pull on his trainers. She could see a light far out in the bay. This was such a romantic place.

‘And then it came out,’ she said. ‘ “
As if you didn’t know
,”
she’s screaming. ‘ “
As if you didn’t know, you Godless wretch!
” ’

‘Know what?’ He reached for her hand.

‘Amy tried to top herself.’ Jane pulled away. ‘Overdose of aspirins.’

‘Oh, dear God,’ said Eirion.

‘Yeah.’ Jane picked up a big pebble, pulled back her arm as if to hurl it at the sea, then let it drop by her feet. ‘Could you live with that?’

Eirion said, ‘It doesn’t mean—’

‘It does, Irene.’

‘It’ll all come out now, though, won’t it? There’ll be an investigation.’

‘You reckon?’

‘Probably.’

‘Proving what? Gonna nail Riddock, are they? Not a chance. Her old man – her mother’s husband – is one of the fattest fat cats in the entire county. It’ll
never
come out, unless…’

‘Oh, shit,’ Eirion said.

Jane glared at him. ‘How do we know there aren’t other kids being terrorized? I think it was actually you who said the other night that when you’re nine, an eleven-year-old could seem like Charles Manston.’

‘Manson.’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ hissed Eirion through his teeth.

‘What kind of holiday do you think I’m gonna have, dangling my toes in the ocean, listening to Sioned trying to teach me the complete works of Taliesyn and all the time thinking about the evil that slag’s wreaking?’

‘And what could you do if you
were
back home?’

‘Loads of things. I could speak out about it for a start. I know this woman, Bella, at Radio Hereford and Worcester. I could go on there live and talk about it and I could just like name names before anyone could stop me.’

‘They’d pre-record you,’ Eirion said. ‘And then they’d edit out the names.’

‘I could do
something
. I could get that slag. I
will
get her.’

They both stood looking at the light out at sea, Jane thinking,
What a magic night, what a magic place to make love. What an incredible memory to have for the rest of your life
.

Too late now. It was all soured.

L
OL WOULD KEEP
pausing, glancing at her to see if she believed him. As if she might be thinking he’d invented these two bizarre, creepy and sexually provocative encounters with Stephanie Stock, both of them ending with him walking away. But this, in fact, confirmed it: walk away was what Lol would do.

Of course she believed him. But what was it all supposed to convey, apart from that Stephanie had been as mad as Gerard?

As she followed Lol across the yard, a sensor switched on two lamps projecting from the stable wall, revealing the cottage in front of them. She could see it had originally been quite small, a typical Herefordshire farmworker’s timber-framed home: two up, two down and a lean-to. There was a brick extension, probably nineteenth century, longer and taller than the original dwelling.

‘Just the four bedrooms at present.’ Lol had a long key for the cracked and ill-fitting front door. ‘But there’s scope for conversion of a few more outbuildings, if Prof can get listed-building consent.’

Merrily thought that with David Shelbone around this could turn out to be more of a problem than Prof might figure.

Unexpectedly, she discovered she was starting to feel less depressed. It was clear that the case of Gerard and Stephanie Stock had several dark and, as yet, unprobed levels, was more complex than either the police or even she had imagined and
went deeper than a violent rage inflamed by a botched Deliverance.

If she could be convinced of this, it was a start. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself – as an exorcist, a priest or a person – if she thought anything she’d done had led, however indirectly, to the slaughter of Stephanie Stock.

‘It’s a nice idea, in principle,’ Lol was saying. ‘Musicians can come and stay, no real time limit, and help out generally around the place when they’re not recording. Van Morrison on orbital sander – that’s yet to happen, but people will do all kinds of things for Prof.’ He pushed open the front door and put a hand inside, feeling around for light switches. ‘This is the living room. It’s still a bit, er…’

Merrily stepped inside, looking around by the harsh light of two naked bulbs. She saw several wooden packing cases, a bubblewrap mountain, an inglenook full of CDs, a TV set on a tea chest, two deckchairs and one padded garden recliner in the middle of an ice floe of polystyrene packing.

‘Lol, this is a dump.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s, er… that’s one way of—’

‘It’s the only way, Lol.’

‘The bedrooms are tidier,’ Lol said.

Which was true. Merrily chose the smallest of them, which contained just a tiny porcelain washbasin, a rag rug and a bed. It was in the old part of the cottage but had recently been done up – fresh plaster between the beams. The three-quarter bed had no headboard, but there was a new duvet lying on it, still in sealed plastic.

It was stuffy in here. ‘It was supposed to be my room.’ Lol prised open the window – one pane, eighteen inches square. ‘But for some reason I keep going back to a camp bed in one of the lofts over the stable.’

Yes, he would do that; he’d need the feeling of impermanence
.