by Susan Lewis
She laughed softly. ‘Look,’ she said, stopping in front of an elaborately decorated grave. ‘It’s so small. I wonder what the lettering says. According to the dates he or she was only eight years old.’
‘It was a he,’ he told her, leaning forward to ease some flowers aside. ‘There’s his picture.’
Laurie’s heart stirred as she looked at the cheekily smiling face. ‘I wonder what happened to him,’ she said.
Nick squeezed her hand and turned to walk on, winding a path through the exquisitely sculpted Greek crosses and cherubs, admiring the urns bursting with flowers and the brass lanterns and chalices for burning incense and candles. Reaching the end of a pathway he stood between two towering conifers and gazed out at the view. ‘They might be dead,’ he said as Laurie joined him, ‘but they’ve got one of the best spots on the island.’
Laurie gazed out to the tranquil yet dazzlingly vivid blue sea and sky, up over the giant grey rocks with their sparse coating of gorse and trees, and back down to the tiny specks of houses huddled in the bowl of the bay. It was as still as a painting, as sharp as a photograph. Nothing moved, except the sunlight on the water.
‘No boats, no people,’ Nick murmured. ‘No birds. No sounds.’
‘Because all sane creatures are taking a siesta,’ she responded, looking back as she heard the jangling of a donkey bell. She smiled to see a young priest in a tall black hat and black robes riding side-saddle along the track towards the cemetery wall. He gave a friendly wave, so she waved back and watched as he dismounted and came in through the gate.
‘I keep meaning to ask Rhona what the difference is between Greek Orthodox Christianity and our own,’ she said, as the priest disappeared into the shady gloom of the church.
Nick was about to answer when the sound of running water made him turn round. A woman in a black headscarf was rinsing her vases under a tap. ‘I didn’t realize anyone else was here,’ he remarked.
‘Maybe she was praying inside the church.’
They watched the woman carry her vases to a grave, then kneel down to arrange the flowers she’d brought.
‘Do you feel as though we’re intruding?’ Laurie whispered.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied, looking around. ‘Cemeteries are strange places. Beautiful, but scary.’ He winked, and taking her hand he led her to stand in front of a big old family sepulchre.
‘Whenever I look at these,’ she said, ‘it makes me think of waking up to find you’ve been buried alive.’
‘That wouldn’t be a good start to the day,’ he commented.
Laughing, she strolled on to the next grave, which was barely visible beneath a blanket of white lilies. The scent made her think of Sherry and wonder what she was doing now. Hearing the tread of Nick’s footsteps on the gravel, moving along to another grave, she recalled their lovemaking last night and again this morning. When she was with him she could lose herself totally in the pleasure they shared, and she felt a tremendous affection towards him for understanding what she needed and being generous enough to give it. It wasn’t serious for her though, which made what she was doing to Sherry so much worse. How selfish she’d become in her heartache, how shallow in the use of her friends.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Nick asked, coming to slip an arm round her shoulders.
‘Sherry,’ she answered.
He made no reply and she wondered how troubled his conscience was too.
‘I need to go back to London,’ she told him. ‘I have responsibilities there, and I can’t do this to Sherry any more.’ She turned to look up at him. ‘I know you say you don’t have the right feelings for her, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have them for you, or make what we’re doing right.’
‘Excuse me,’ a voice called from behind them.
They turned round to see the woman in the black headscarf coming towards them, the sunlight behind her.
Nick squinted as he tried to make out her face. ‘Isn’t that who took the photo, down at the café?’ he said.
‘I think it is,’ Laurie replied, starting to smile. ‘Hello,’ she said, as the woman drew closer.
‘I see you here,’ the woman said, beaming with delight. ‘I remember you and I want to show you the picture I take. I have it here.’ She was reaching into a big black canvas bag.
‘Already?’ Laurie commented, impressed. ‘That was quick.’
‘Boom, bang,’ the woman chuckled.
Laurie frowned, then laughed as she realized she must be referring to the cannon that had gone off as she’d taken the picture. Glancing up at Nick she murmured, ‘Can’t wait to see this.’
His eyes were narrowed with amusement as he watched the woman search. Then a quick flash of light drew his attention to the church.
Laurie was about to take the photo from the woman when suddenly Nick’s hands slammed into her. At the same instant a deafening explosion rang out round the hillside.
Laurie was falling back. Pain shot through her side.
Nick started for the church. The old woman threw herself against him.
As they struggled Rhona came in through the gate shouting Laurie’s name.
Nick swung round.
The old woman broke free and started to run.
The priest was ahead of her, black robes flying, as he dodged through the tombstones.
Laurie blinked up at the sky.
‘Are you all right?’ Nick said, dropping down beside her.
She winced as she struggled to sit up.
‘Oh my God,’ Rhona gasped, running up to them. ‘Are you hurt? Don’t try to move.’
‘She’s OK,’ Nick said. ‘Her shoulder hit the gravestone as she went down.’
Laurie gave a shake of her head, still dazed by the shock of it. ‘What the hell was all that about?’ she demanded.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Rhona persisted.
‘Yes. What are you doing here?’ She looked at Nick. ‘I can’t believe that just happened. Who was she?’
‘I’ve called the police,’ Rhona told them, ‘with any luck she won’t get away.’
Nick was looking in the direction the woman had taken off in, and seeing the priest lifting her over a fence he said, ‘He was the one with the gun. I saw him come out of the church …’
Suddenly registering Rhona’s words, Laurie said, ‘You’ve already called the police?’
‘I got a call from Rose, about fifteen minutes ago,’ Rhona explained. ‘Apparently Eddie Cribbs is behind this.’
Laurie gaped at her, until suddenly realizing what it must mean she began struggling to her feet. ‘Sherry’s found the women,’ she declared. ‘Has anyone spoken to her? Is she all right?’
‘Apparently they’re trying to find her,’ Rhona answered. ‘Rose has all the details.’
By the time they got back to the villa shock had set in, causing Laurie to shake uncontrollably as she spoke to Rose on the phone. ‘But someone must have heard from her,’ she cried. ‘She has to have called someone, so where the hell is she?’
‘We’re all on it,’ Rose assured her. ‘The police are here now, at her flat. There’s no sign of a break-in, but they’re searching the place to see what they can find.’
‘What about Barry and Stan? Have you …?’
‘I’ve left messages for both. Apparently the porter saw her going out this morning. She was carrying a heavy bag, so there’s a chance someone tipped her off and she’s gone into hiding.’
‘Oh God, please let that be true,’ Laurie murmured.
‘I have to go,’ Rose said. ‘As soon as there’s any news, I’ll call you back.’
Laurie put the phone down and went to pick up the whisky Rhona had poured her. ‘I should never have left,’ she said. ‘It felt wrong. Oh God, if anything’s happened to her …’
‘Let’s not start jumping to conclusions,’ Rhona cut in, glancing over her shoulder as someone thumped on the door.
‘I’ll go,’ Nick said.
Laurie’s eyes went
to the phone as it started to ring. Please let it be Sherry, or at least someone letting them know she was all right.
Being the closest, Rhona picked it up. ‘Yes, she’s here,’ she said into the receiver, her eyes moving to Laurie. ‘She’s fine. I don’t know. I’ll ask her,’ and putting a hand over the mouthpiece she said, ‘It’s Elliot. Do you want to talk to him?’
Laurie felt suddenly dizzy. He was the last person she’d expected to hear from. Did he know what was happening? Was that why he was calling? Or had he remembered today should have been their wedding day? She looked round as Nick led two uniformed policemen into the room.
Rhona put the phone back to her ear. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘she’s busy right now.’
Laurie watched as she hung up.
Rhona grinned and gave a satisfied waggle of her eyebrows.
Nick was struggling with his Greek to introduce the officers.
Taking pity, Rhona came to his assistance.
Laurie looked at the phone, willing it to ring, then reaching for it, she said, ‘I’m sorry, I have to speak to Rose again.’
‘It’s only been five minutes,’ Rose reminded her, when she asked if there was any news yet.
‘What about the women? Have you turned up anything to say she found them?’
‘Nothing so far, we’re still trying to get into her computer. I just had a call from Barry though.’
‘And?’
‘He doesn’t know where she is, but he says … I think you’d better brace yourself for this, apparently the two people he put her in touch with, the ones working for Eddie Cribbs, were killed in a car crash last night. All the evidence says it was an accident, but considering the timing …’
Laurie sat down heavily on the chair behind her. ‘He’s killed her,’ she mumbled. ‘Eddie Cribbs has …’
‘We don’t know that,’ Rose cut in. ‘Barry spoke to her last night. He said she sounded a bit strange, which could mean …’
‘That someone was there with her.’
‘Laurie, stop doing this to yourself. Whatever’s happened to her, we’re going to find her.’
‘I’m coming back,’ Laurie said. ‘As soon as we’ve dealt with the police here, we’ll be on our way.’
*
Karima couldn’t understand why it hadn’t happened yet. The emergency procedure had long been in place, she knew it almost to the letter. Whichever building was being used would be burned to the ground. Everything and everyone inside must perish. There would be no way of identifying the charred remains of the bodies, because they belonged to non-people. They simply didn’t exist. Nor was there any kind of paper trail to lead anywhere but the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, who owned the derelict two-storey shed. Burning it down would probably do them a favour, and in less than a week everyone but the insurance company would have forgotten it even existed.
So why hadn’t anything happened yet?
She’d been here for more than two nights now, and voices were starting to jabber in her head. The stench all around was as nauseating as the pig-women themselves, the air was clogged with it, the corner where they relieved themselves steamed with it. Flies swarmed in through the cracks in the wood. The floors and mattresses crawled with more bugs and vermin than any normal human being could stand. The pig-women had started to eat the bugs. There had been talk of catching the rats and eating them too. Most of the talk, though, was of the woman who’d said she’d come back to rescue them, but still hadn’t. They were at last beginning to understand that she never would. They’d been left here to die. Some thought it would be of starvation, since no-one had brought food for days, others were still terrified of being given to the men.
Earlier a vote had been taken. They’d all agreed that rather than wait and suffer, they’d take their own lives while they still could. All that remained to be decided was when. Karima, or Mota Ben as they called her, hadn’t been part of the vote. It was as though she wasn’t there. No-one even looked in her direction, but she could feel their hatred. It burned all the way into her, like flames, the flames that would eventually devour them all.
She’d never known hunger before, didn’t understand the tricks it played on the mind. It gnawed at her now, as the rats gnawed at the filth. She watched them and felt their ugly teeth chewing her insides. She was ready to grab anything from any one of the pig-women now, and stuff it into her own mouth before they could stuff it into theirs. She imagined doing it and her stomach heaved even as it craved.
The filthy child cried constantly with hunger. The Neela girl soothed her and watched Karima with her demonic eyes. Karima noticed she rarely spoke to anyone, but she saw everything and understood more. She knew Mota Ben had been sent here to perish with them. Maybe the others knew too, but only the Neela girl watched her, seeming to sense her fear.
The day moved on. Karima dozed for a while. When she woke the small bands of light that forced their way in through the boards were fading, and the women were gathered around the older one, Ekta. Something was up, she could tell by the tension in the putrid air. Her first thought was of rescue – that the pig-women’s deluded prayers for the mysterious woman to return had in some way been answered. Then, through the gloom, she saw what they were doing, and understood with a terribleness beyond all terribleness that they were deciding the order in which they were going to die.
Some were crying, some prayed and some were utterly silent. Their eyes appeared huge in their gaunt, haunted faces, their saris too copious for their fleshless bones. No-one spoke to her, it was as though they had forgotten she was even there. They wouldn’t put her out of her misery, they would leave her to starvation or flames.
She watched in horror as the first woman lay down and Ekta put a pillow over her face. Someone else was holding the Neela girl’s child, while Neela held the hands of the woman about to die. Everyone was praying. The air seemed to fill with fear and choke with sorrow. It took a long time. The woman twitched and fought. The others held her down, while Neela pressed her own weight onto the pillow with Ekta’s.
Finally it was done, and everyone gazed in disbelief at the corpse. It had seemed so hard, yet now so easy.
The next woman lay down. She blessed Ekta, then gave Neela her hands as the pillow covered her face. It was the same process, she twitched and fought, but then she panicked and managed to throw them off. The instinct to live was as great as the will to die. For a while everyone sat quietly. Some were panting, others were quietly sobbing. Eventually the woman summoned her courage and lay down again. This time they were able to hold her until finally the twitching and resistance stopped.
The third woman peeled herself from her friend’s arms and lay down. Death came more quickly and quietly to her than to the others.
The fourth woman took a long time to pray. No-one hurried her, just waited until she was ready to go.
The fifth woman broke down and begged for mercy. She had lost her courage, she wanted to live.
Karima continued to watch, huddled in her corner, stupefied and terrified as one by one the women were released from the prisons of their bodies and baleful surroundings.
By the time Neela and the child lay down, Karima’s panic had grown to such a pitch that her mouth was spurting gibberish and her ears were filled by the roar of flames. She was a child again. The crowd was praying, the procession moved on. Her tiny mother was in her arms. Fire was raging up, huge red and yellow tongues, coiling around them like snakes. She could smell her flesh burning, feel it melting from her bones. She was tearing her hair. Saliva foamed from her lips, snot bubbled from her nose, excrement from her bowels. She was going to die in the fire.
Suddenly she leaped up, grabbed the Ekta woman’s pillow and lay down with it over her own face.
Neela’s eyes went to Ekta, then to Mota Ben’s quivering limbs. Shaila’s fingers were digging painfully into Neela’s neck. Terror had struck the child dumb and turned her into a vice.
Ekta looked at Neela and Neela gave
her consent. Mota Ben could die first.
There were only three other women still alive, and each one of them came to throw her weight over Mota Ben’s pillow, eager to be a part of this evil woman’s death.
Suddenly Mota Ben didn’t want to die. She raged and fought. Her body twisted and contorted. The women’s hatred overpowered her, their weight seeming to increase in their resolve to end their tormentor’s life.
After Mota Ben was dead the women kicked her body across the floor, back into her corner. One of them rammed her head against the wall, as though she were still alive and could feel it. Another lifted her sari and urinated all over her.
When the excitement was over and adrenalin started to wane, Neela returned to her mattress and lay down with Shaila again. Ekta came to stand over them. Neela’s heart was full of sadness. She had come to love Ekta and didn’t want to leave her to die alone.
‘Ambamata, Jagadambe, Mother of the Universe,’ Ekta whispered as she lowered the pillow, ‘with your kindness we have all happiness and with your blessing no fear at all …’
Neela listened and clung trembling to Shaila. Now the moment was here, the will to live was strong. ‘We are going to be with Mummy,’ she’d told Shaila earlier. ‘Mummy is waiting for us.’
The darkness was horrible, the sensation terrifying. Everything in her began a fight for air. Her hands lost the struggle to stay still, her legs rose up to protect her. Shaila fought too, and started to scream. She broke free and fled into the darkness.
Ekta looked into Neela’s eyes.
Neela understood. They would have to set Shaila free first.
When it was over Neela held her niece’s thin, lifeless body in her arms and lay down with her. Her eyes were dry, her heart shed the tears of a thousand lifetimes.
Ekta was very tired, had little strength left. The other women came to help her, terrified now, as they realized there might be no release for them.
In the end Neela went peacefully. When they took the pillow away there was no need to close her eyes, as there had been with some of the others. Neela’s were already closed.
Too weak now to help anyone else, Ekta began winding her sari around her neck.
