‘That’s extraordinary – or at least it would be to a mathematician. I suspect the average football supporter would be less interested!’
‘You’re quite right, of course, it is extraordinary, but only to a few. However, revealing just this one small fact would certainly turn science on its head. It would be profoundly disturbing and would fairly upset most of the world’s mathematicians, so just imagine what would happen if we started to dispel some of the more treasured religious beliefs.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
‘To try to get you to understand just how important an influence the Sisterhood has been over the centuries, how it has continually strived to promote scientific advance to counter the blinkered dogma of ignorance while at the same time attempting to ameliorate the stupidity, arrogance and pomposity of those in charge of our lives.’
‘You mean men?’
‘Well, yes. Mostly. I love men as much as the next woman and I’m blessed with a wonderful husband and son, but let’s face it, they do so often come up wanting in the brains department, especially when they get in control of a country. This two-pronged approach was decreed by Helen and we’ve been following her teachings ever since.’ She patted and preened Celeste’s hair one last time. ‘There, my lovely, I’m done. What do you think?’
Doreen had finished styling Celeste’s hair and a wonderful job she had done as well. Her burnished tresses were beautifully cut, and shone like polished copper, falling over her shoulders in luxuriant waves.
‘Thank you,’ said Celeste faintly. She had almost forgotten her hair was being cut. Doreen’s quiet recitation was mesmerising!
‘Let’s have a nice cup of tea. You look like a girl who could do with a fruit shortie!’
Celeste would remember that extraordinary conversation for the rest of her life. She and Doreen communicated through the mirror. Doreen stood behind the padded chair with a mug of steaming tea in her hand and they looked at each other in the glass as she calmly destroyed Celeste’s fundamental understanding of – well, just about everything!
‘Moving forward a century or so, we come to another important example of our influence. We were the driving force behind William Herschel. He discovered the planet Uranus using a home-made telescope in his back garden in Bath. He and his sister, Caroline, built their telescopes together and they were without doubt the finest of their day. Bath is just down the road from here and Caroline, having joined the Sisterhood some years before, eventually became the two hundred and twenty-second Gaia. Smart woman – discovered eight comets!’
‘I’m beginning to wonder if there’s any discovery that can’t be traced back to you. Surely someone noticed it was the women doing all the work?’
‘They did notice. Sometimes. Actually, speaking honestly, they only noticed very rarely. Men are so gloriously egotistical! Almost all were quite happy to take the glory and have their names recorded for posterity.’
‘And the Sisters were content with this?’
‘Entirely content. Our philosophy has always been one of discretion and Sisters were satisfied in the knowledge that they had effected real change. Besides, the prospect of being burnt as a witch is a pretty powerful argument for keeping your mouth shut.’
‘Did anyone else figure out what was going on, apart from Newton?’
‘Only one other, and I know you’ve heard of him as well. Edward Jenner, the country doctor who discovered the principles of vaccination. His remarkable story is inextricably entwined with the Sisterhood. He’s a Berkeley man, you know, got a statue in Gloucester Cathedral.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen him there. So what happened?’
‘In the late eighteenth century there was a smallpox epidemic in Gloucester, so Jenner was familiar with the scourge of the deadly disease when some years later a young milkmaid named Sarah Nelmes visited him suffering from a bout of cowpox, which she had contracted from her cow, Blossom. Jenner took samples from her sores and infected other patients, who he then exposed to smallpox. This was a real gamble because if his ideas proved incorrect, these patients would have almost certainly died. However, they didn’t catch smallpox and Jenner headed for the history books. That’s how it’s taught at school.’
‘And the truth?’
‘The truth is almost exactly the same as the accepted version. Edward married a local lady called Katherine Kingscote, who had already been inducted into the Sisterhood. We had long pursued a policy of recruiting intelligent and capable Gloucestershire women as a protective buffer around the Temple.’
‘I notice you keep mentioning this Temple,’ observed Celeste.
‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’ nodded Doreen. ‘I’ll explain it all in good time. Meanwhile, returning to Jenner, you have to realise the Sisterhood had spent centuries encouraging the development of medicine – many of our members had suffered the agony of a high infant mortality rate, so Katherine was ideal material for us: clever, capable, Gloucestershire-born and married to a gifted physician.
‘Katherine knew Sarah well. While delivering milk to the Jenner household, Sarah commented to Katherine that she’d noticed all her milkmaid friends, once they’d contracted cowpox, seemed to be spared the ravages of smallpox. Katherine thought this worthy enough to mention to Edward and encouraged him to investigate this oddity when Sarah contracted cowpox herself later that year. Edward conducted his risky experiment on volunteers from the Sisterhood and vaccination was born. Although he is attributed with the discovery, our records indicate he fully recognised the contribution of his wife, Sarah and those very brave volunteers, and only on their firm insistence did he reluctantly accept the entire credit for his breakthrough.
‘The subsequent eradication of smallpox by vaccination is regarded by the Sisterhood as its single most important contribution to the welfare of mankind, and as a result, both Katherine Kingscote and Sarah Nelmes are considered Goddesses, and Blossom, bless her hooves, in recognition of her selfless contribution to medicine by a grateful public, bequeathed one of her horns to the Jenner museum in Berkeley – we have the other in our care!’
Doreen paused, looking thoughtful. She drank the dregs of her tea and looked out of the window to the street outside. Yes, that man was back again, nonchalantly loitering on the far side of the street in an entirely unsuspicious manner that made it plainly obvious what he was doing. It was clear Celeste Timbrill had no idea she was being shadowed. Mags was right, the enemy were already on the move. She watched him discreetly through another mirror, allowing her to observe without looking directly at him. He was whiling away the time browsing the window of a shop opposite the salon which sold Turkish carpets. It suddenly struck her as one of those strange coincidences – Troy, Blessed Lycia and Patara, all vital to the Sisterhood, all were to be found in modern-day Turkey. The thought made her wistful. There were so many subtle coincidences connecting our lives. She pursed her lips. ‘I was once like you,’ she said softly. ‘Happy with my little life, totally oblivious that much of my knowledge was based on complete fabrication, a mother of two – a hairdresser, for God’s sake – until she came!’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,’ said Celeste. ‘What happened? When were you first approached?’
‘Now this’ll make you smile,’ said Doreen. ‘Believe me, events really don’t get more unlikely than this. There I was, working in my salon – not this one, by the way. This one I’ve commandeered for the morning just to talk to you. Anyway, I was on my own finishing up for the day. Thinking about it, she must have been waiting for the others to go home, watching me from across the road, I guess. I’d given Jeanette Hough’s hair a final blow dry and shooed her out, when in walked this very tall elderly lady. She had a refined air to her. Elegant. Classy. Her hair was beautifully cut and she wore dark glasses, which I thought a bit odd for a February afternoon in Chipping Sodbury. She sat down as bold as brass, took off her glasses and fixed me with quite a stare.
‘“Doreen Coddle,” she sai
d in a husky Yankee twang, “Ah’m Katherine Hepburn and ah want to talk to you about saving the world!”’
‘Good God!’ exclaimed Celeste, suitably open-mouthed.
‘Do you know, that’s exactly what I said! Kate just laughed at the look on my face. “You’ll never make an actress,” she said, “but you will make a superb Goddess.” Well, after that I just had to learn more. Our conversation was very similar to the one we’ve just had, but I seem to remember I was even less inclined to believe her and said so in no uncertain terms, after all, what on earth does a Hollywood legend have in common with a little old hairdresser like me? I even suspected Bernie had called up one of those spoof actresses to play a trick on me.’
‘Bernie? The plumber?’
‘Uh huh. That’s just the sort of thing he’d do, but somehow in my heart I knew she was the real thing. There was an air about her that was quite simply majestic. She patted my hand, told me to sit down and when she’d finished her story it was well past my bedtime. I was dumbfounded. Even though history had not exactly been my favourite subject at school, I still knew enough to realise nothing would ever be the same. I think it’s the enormity of it all that draws us in. The Sisterhood transcends mere individuals, it appeals to women on an almost genetic level, to our natural urges to protect and nurture, our abilities of persuasion and our willingness to sacrifice ourselves for the sakes of our children.’
‘And don’t forget our unwillingness to put up with crap,’ added Celeste.
‘How could I have overlooked that,’ replied Doreen dryly. ‘Once the existence of the Sisterhood has been revealed, it sort of makes everything else look a bit petty. So you see, it’s just the very biggest thing ever. There has not been a single notable event in western history that has not been influenced by us, and we carry on today as we’ve always done in the past, moving quietly behind the scenes, diluting the stupidity of men down the centuries, encouraging the expansion of reason and science, fighting the terrible curse of ignorance and preserving knowledge as best we can.’
‘But why you – of all people, why you?’
‘I know, how come a hairdresser ended up as Guardian of the Earth – apart from being chosen by Kate Hepburn? Well, to answer that properly I’m afraid we’ll have to take a drive. There’s a place not too far away from here that you must see. It is a place of great age and it contains a remarkable secret. You’re looking worried again. I don’t blame you. Imagine how I felt when Kate walked into my shop and told me my career path had just changed direction!’
‘How far away?’
‘Fifteen miles, no more. Why?’
‘Sorry, but I can’t come. I have a house guest at the moment who is no doubt being tormented mercilessly by Bertie. I don’t think it’s a good idea for his sanity to leave him alone with my baby for more than a few hours.’
‘May I ask who is this guest? Is it someone you trust?’
‘It is someone I trust implicitly, and if you’ve done your research you should know who he is.’
Doreen drummed her fingers on the back of the chair, deep in thought. Who would this resourceful woman turn to for help? ‘Ah, yes, of course. The policeman from the court case.’
‘Impressive deduction, Doreen.’
‘Thank you.’
‘His name’s Wilf Thompson. Bertie suggested I call him. James and I thought this was inspired. He’s an accomplished and experienced detective and will be staying for as long as this situation remains unresolved. I certainly feel more comfortable knowing he’s around – our cottage is a little remote. Could be useful in a pinch.’
‘Sensible precaution – however, it’s important that Bertie comes with us.’
‘Bertie! Why? What’s he got to do with all this?’
‘Not all is clear yet, but our Pythia insists, and I’ve learnt over the years to implicitly trust our Pythia.’
‘What the hell’s a Pythia?’ Celeste frowned in perplexity.
‘The Priestess of the Oracle. Our psychic guide.’
‘You use a Priestess?’
‘No, we use a twenty-three-year-old girl I met in Malmesbury called Maggie, who has the gift of prescience. She actually doesn’t like being called a Priestess. Thinks it evokes images of enthusiastic chanting and nervous goats. She’s the one who’s foreseen Bertie’s importance in all this and, as I’ve said, I’ve had ample reason in the past to trust her judgement implicitly.’
‘Frankly, this sounds like a complete load of old baloney to me,’ muttered Celeste, frowning. ‘I can just about get my head around you being a scissor-wielding goddess, but clairvoyance? Come on, Doreen, you’re asking too much.’
Doreen looked at her watch. ‘Would a small practical demonstration convince you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘How much money do you have in your purse?’
‘That’s a bit personal, but if you really want to know, I’ve just drawn a hundred pounds out of the bank.’
‘Ample. There’s a betting shop two doors down. Put all the money you have on Dirty Laundry. To win. 12.15, Lingfield Park.’
‘You’re kidding! What if I lose? I won’t be able to pay for my hair.’
‘You won’t lose. This is one of Maggie’s specials.’
‘But I’ve never been in a betting shop in my life. I wouldn’t know what to do.’
‘Just walk in and look helpless. The staff will pounce like vultures. Then you can stiff them like a pro.’
‘Can’t you come with me?’
‘Sorry, I’ve been banned from every betting shop south of Birmingham. Now, that should tell you something, shouldn’t it.’ She looked at her watch again. ‘Better hurry, Celeste, you haven’t much time.’
Celeste stared at Doreen for a few moments, still hesitating. ‘Go!’ she urged, so Celeste grabbed her purse and scampered out of the salon. Doreen tidied up as fifteen minutes ambled past in a very agreeable manner.
‘Well?’ she enquired when Celeste reappeared. She didn’t really need to ask – the look on Celeste’s face told it all. ‘What were the odds?’
‘Thirty-three to one,’ she said faintly, holding up a fat envelope.
‘So you’ve won just shy of three and a half grand.’
Celeste nodded, still apparently in considerable shock.
‘Well, my lovely, we win every month. Without fail. All because of Maggie. Still think it’s a load of old baloney?’
‘How the hell did that happen?’ murmured Celeste. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘This is nothing. Wait until you see her really fly. You’ll soon change your mind – and remember, Maggie is not a patch on Alice.’
‘But this is extraordinary. You could all become fabulously wealthy.’
‘Yes, we could, but we won’t. Someone would eventually notice so we only take a modest amount when we need it and no more. Don’t forget, we’re sworn to do no harm, even to the bookies. Now then, shall we go and fetch Bertie?’
‘That could be a problem. There’s no way Wilf is going to let me swan off on my own with him,’ said Celeste. Especially now he was officially her ‘muscle’. She was in no doubt he would be taking his new duties seriously.
‘Sorry, but this is Sisterhood business. No men allowed.’
‘Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I had a devil of a job persuading him to let me come into town this morning and he certainly won’t let me out of his sight if I have Bertie with me. There’s no way I can give him the slip.’
‘You sure? Come on, Celeste, we’re two bright women – we should be able to run rings round him, detective or not.’
‘I suppose so, but I don’t like to deceive him. He is on our side, after all.’ She considered for a moment. ‘I’ll just have to see if I can coax Bertie out of the house without Wilf noticing.’
‘Good. We’ll drop by to pick him up – Prior’s Norton isn’t really out of our way.’
Celeste started in shock when Doreen said this, then realised the Sisterhood m
ust have been gathering information about her for some time. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about me,’ she said suspiciously.
‘Of course we do. You and James are important to us and so is Bertie.’
‘Your Priestess come up with that?
‘No, I figured it out for myself. Listen, you’ve been extraordinarily patient, more so than I was with Kate. Despite a calm exterior, I suspect you’re bubbling inside with a good old healthy dose of scepticism and, frankly, I don’t blame you at all. But, more than anything I can say, I know that just seeing this place will convince you I’m speaking the truth. Shall we go?’
‘How much do I owe you for the hair?’ she asked, checking herself in the mirror again. ‘I can pay cash,’ she added with a grin.
‘You owe me nothing, but it would be nice to contribute something to the salon. They still have their business rates to pay – even the Sisterhood can’t change that!’
Celeste put the envelope behind the counter. ‘Well,’ she said in answer to Doreen’s raised eyebrow, ‘if my husband can give Alice a quarter mill then I’m sure I can afford three grand for the cut. Unexpected money’s for impulse spending, isn’t it?’
The two women left the salon.
The man followed.
CHAPTER NINE
Twenty minutes later, Doreen pulled into the small church car park at Prior’s Norton. ‘Which house is it?’ she asked.
‘The thatched cottage through the trees. We can get into the field behind through that stile. Watch for the nettles. And the cows.’
Buttercup lowed a cheery welcome as they crept along the hedge until they could peer into the garden. The cottage sat with chocolate box perfection amongst its colourful flowers. ‘This is very nice,’ murmured Doreen, ‘but how are we going to lure Bertie away?’
Bertie and the Hairdresser Who Ruled the World Page 12
