by R. J. Gadney
Hal was about to take the line that it would be more sensible to consult a major London firm instead, when screams rising in the Great Hall brought about a further complication.
“It’s the little girl,” said Sophie.
NINE
Truly the universe is full of ghosts, not sheeted churchyard spectres, but the inextinguishable elements of individual life, which having once been, can never die, though they blend and change, and change again forever.
H. RIDER HAGGARD
King Solomon’s Mines
67
Francesca was at the entrance ushering in Mrs. Warren and the Choir of Lakeland Angels in full voice:
Once in royal David’s city,
Stood a lowly cattle shed …
Where a mother laid her Baby,
In a manger for His bed—
accompanied by Yukio’s screams—
The sight of Yukio, hysterical in her mother’s embrace, confronted Hal in the Great Hall. Sumiko was weeping.
Mary was that mother mild …
The comfort of the hot bath couldn’t stop Yukio shivering. In clouds of steam, the cowering child was inconsolable.
Sumiko was scarcely in control of herself. “We went to play hide-and-seek. Yukio went off first. I counted to fifty and went to look for her. I picked up a trail in the snow and followed the footprints. Then Yukio called out to me, said she could hear voices.”
“Where?”
“She was outside the stables.”
“What voices?”
“The voices were from behind the stable door. Yukio tried to open it and couldn’t. I was about twenty yards away when the door opened. This bloodied hand hurled a mangled lump out—aimed directly at Yukio’s head.”
Sumiko lifted her out of the bath and began to dry her.
“I’m cold. I’m cold.”
“You’ll be warm in a minute. Do you want to go back in the water?”
“Yes, mommy. Can you heat it up for me?”
“What was it—lump, what mangled lump?”
“The headless dog. Whoever was in the stables threw it in Yukio’s face.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Hello? It’s me.” It was Teresa. “May I come in?”
“Wait a moment,” Hal said. “You’ve no idea who did it?”
Sumiko shook her head.
Hal opened the bathroom door and barred Teresa’s entry.
Sumiko and Yukio were looking at her with fear and loathing.
“I’ll wash the child’s clothes,” Teresa said.
“You won’t touch them,” Sumiko shouted.
*
Hal closed the door and leaned against it.
“Who did it, Teresa?”
“Your father’s Japanese lover.”
“Bullshit.”
“Face the truth.”
“Stop this. There’s no such person.”
“Don’t you shout at me. Fetch the child’s clothes. I’ll burn them.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“Mom?” Francesca was calling from below. “Will I fetch the mince pies?”
“Hand them around,” Teresa called back. “One each, mind.”
“What are you doing, Mom?”
“Never you mind. Down in a minute.” Teresa turned to stare at Hal. “It’s not safe for them here. Tell them to go away. To leave. Now.” She tugged at his sleeve. “Come away. Before anything worse happens.”
Hal tried to grab her wrist. Teresa turned suddenly and almost overbalanced. They faced each other in silence broken only by Yukio’s sobs from behind the bathroom door.
“Who killed it, Teresa?”
“Killed what?” she said hotly.
He clenched his fist. “The puppy—the puppy’s blood was all over Yukio. Her own dog’s blood.”
“What dog?”
“Now look—I am asking you straight. Who killed the puppy, Teresa?”
She clutched her arms around her as if she’d suddenly felt a chill draft. “You did.” She lowered her head with a look of pity. “You’re behaving like a dead person, Hal. I wish I could communicate with you. Your mind—it’s DEAD. You’re going to be all right. Together, you and me—we’ll make everything all right, won’t we?”
Hal followed her along the landing.
She walked with her shoulders back, straightening the hem of her tight black skirt.
“You come to me,” she whispered. “You need me.” Suddenly she stopped in the shadow, her face very close to his. Her lips were parted. She raised her hand to his mouth, caressed his lips with her fingers and looked closely into his eyes. “You want me, Hal. It’s natural. You want me, don’t you? You must come to mommy. Teresa won’t tell a soul.” She was growing breathless. “Just you and me. You dream of me, don’t you? You’re guilty for me, aren’t you? We have our secrets, don’t we? You can have me, baby.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Teresa. Who killed the dog?”
“You need your Teresa. I love it when you ask for me.”
“I’m asking you for nothing.”
“You are. You’re asking for me.” She turned and caught sight of herself in a wall mirror. “You’re asking ‘Is anybody there?’ And I am. You don’t know it … you want me. I know. Because, see, I want you. Look at me.”
He looked at her dark reflection.
The unexpected.
The succubus to convert the shame of infidelity into pleasure and allow him finally to abandon himself to shamelessness?
“Teresa, I’m warning you—I want you and Francesca out of here.”
“Why?”
“The dog. The drugs. The gun’s been stolen. You’re in every kind of trouble.”
“We’re all of us in trouble here,” she said to her reflection. “That’s why you must ask your friend to leave and take the suffering child with her. Now. Right away.”
“There’s no question of that,” he said firmly. But firm though he may have sounded, he was frightened. “They stay, Teresa.”
“Why?”
“Because I say so.”
“You want to drive them mad? As for me and Francesca. Leave? Oh no, dearie, I don’t think so. We aren’t going anywhere. If you want to leave, then go on, please yourself. Like you did with my daughter. Don’t think actions don’t have consequences. And I’m the one intended for you. You’re my lover. My spirit and my body. Our heated streams have flowed into each other. I have swallowed your seed. Your juice. Your blood. I am your shrine.”
“What the hell are you saying?” There was helplessness in his voice.
“Saying? Do you want me to sit down with that Sophie—and tell her? And give your Japanese the full story? And Francesca. Don’t think Francesca spared me any details. You enjoyed yourself inside of her. She didn’t take precautions, did she? Because you told her—‘I love you, Francesca.’ I heard you begging her.” Her lips quivered. “I was in bed with you myself. You were inside me too. We pleasured you inside of us.”
“What are you trying to prove?”
“Prove? I don’t need to prove a thing.” She stepped up close to him. “You killed that dog.” Her breath was hot and moist, her fury rising. “You slept with my daughter,” she shouted. “I’ve photos of you two naked. And you having her like she was a dog in heat. And you took me from the rear like I was a dog.”
Her shout brought Sumiko from the bathroom at the moment Teresa struck him across the face.
He grabbed her wrist; he wrestled with her briefly and she retaliated by kicking wildly at his legs so he was forced to step back, his elbows and back thumping against the mirror hanging from the wall.
The mirror didn’t fall at once. It tilted, juddered, the heavy frame’s wire snapped, then the whole thing toppled face down to the landing floor, the glass shattering in a burst of jangling splinters.
The report of the mirror’s exploding glass petrified Yukio and she began to whimper.
A moaning sound cam
e from Teresa’s closed mouth. Her dark eyes stared at Sumiko with hatred. Sumiko didn’t flinch.
Teresa was glaring at Hal. “I will never leave you,” she said.
“Get away from me,” he shouted.
“Never,” Teresa shouted in return. “I am Sada Abe.”
He saw Sumiko’s eyes focus fiercely on Teresa’s. Her small hands trembled and rose up to the sides of her head like a bird’s beating wings, palms pressed against her ears.
Yukio clambered out of her bath. Dripping bathwater, she stumbled across the slippery floor into her mother’s protective arms, her eyes gazing fearfully at Teresa whose full dark hair framed her face and accentuated her glistening eyes.
Teresa’s mouth was stretched into the smile of a well-satisfied lunatic.
She stooped to retrieve a shard of the mirror’s glass. She fixed the terrified Yukio with her eyes. “Child, you are like the puppy,” she said conversationally, “you are cursed to die in your mother’s blood.”
She began to walk away and just before she reached the top of the stairs she let the shard of glass drop to the floor and began to grind it into dust beneath her shoe. “To avert seven years of blood and death,” she announced, “we should grind the broken mirror’s glass to dust and bury it in the cemetery. Now it’s too late—too late.”
At the top of the stairs she reached out a hand to steady herself against the handrail with a gesture of proprietorship and raised her right hand, the thumb beneath her middle finger, the Sign of The Hornéd Satan, God of the Witch.
Then she gripped her nose, the thumb and forefinger grinding into its bridge until blood began to flow, streaming from her nose and eyes, her face contorted, twisted horizontally; her skin stretched, pitted and convoluted like a lizard’s.
Sumiko pulled Yukio back inside the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.
Blood streaming down her face, Teresa smiled: “My very blood is shed for you, Hal. We are of the same blood and spirit.” She began to chant some half-remembered song. “‘Tonight you’re mine, completely.’ As I am your body and soul, I am the keeper of your future.”
The damaged body can offer a clue to the performance and construction of a bomb. So I have to look at it up close.
“Give me your love. My body will be waiting in white silk. Caverns measureless to man. Come inside … come inside me. I am Your Coming.”
—I stare into dead and bulging eyes with broken blood vessels.
—Into torn ears filled with blood. Multiple twisted fractures. Fragmented splintered bones.
—Not for a single moment can you afford to think of the victim as a person.
—Not for a single moment can you afford to think of the person as a victim.
Her eyes exerted a terrible hypnotism.
—I am going to her …
To his horror, Hal heard a voice saying: “Wait … I’m coming to you.”
“I always knew you would,” Teresa told him sweetly. “You and me together, Hal. Only we can remember the future. Tonight I will be yours. I will be waiting as I’ve waited a thousand years for you.”
68
Sumiko packed her bags in silence and Hal loaded them into her VW along with Yukio.
Then he led the way in the Range Rover to Moster Lees where Sumiko had agreed to take a room at the Moster Inn.
Smitty greeted Hal with patronizing flummery. “Is there room at the Inn? This isn’t Bethlehem.” He lowered the reception desk flap and settled a grimy ledger on it. “Bear with me. What have we here now? Every room vacant, every one a winner. You, Sir, can take the pick of the very best. How many will there be staying with us?”
“Two. One adult, one child. If you could arrange a room for the two of them to share.”
“Glendower Suite’s vacant. En suite shower. Wall bracket TV.”
But when Sumiko and Yukio appeared in the entrance hall, Smitty’s lizard eyes blinked. He untangled the gold chain dangling from his neck and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “You’ll have to forgive me, Captain. I’m looking at next year’s ledger. My mistake. Cock-up. Sincere apologies. N-C-D. No-Can-Do.”
“Not a single room?”
“Chock-a-bloody-block.”
“Does anyone else nearby have rooms?”
“You could try the Vicar. He’s got a spare room or two. Mind—what with Midnight Mass and tomorrow’s services …” He drew his hand across his throat as if it were a blade. “He’s up to here with Christmas—”
“Can we telephone him?”
“My pleasure.”
Smitty wiped his fingers on his handkerchief and tapped in the number. “Hi-yer. How are yew? I’ve got Captain Stirling here. Yes. The Captain Stirling. Have you a spare room for tonight? Oh, good. Good. Hang on a sec while I hand him over …”
Hal took the phone. “Hal Stirling. Can you help two of my guests with a room tonight?”
“Of course I can,” the Vicar said. “Bring them around.”
“All done then?” said Smitty. He beamed at Yukio. “You’ll be happy with the Vicar. He’s very good with kiddies. This old house gets noisy after Midnight Mass. That’s when the big drinkers get in pole position for the off. Must be much the same in the Army, Sir.”
“I daresay.”
Smitty coughed into his hand. He’d sensed that Hal knew perfectly well the Moster Inn wasn’t expecting a single guest. Examining his phlegm, he leaned close to Hal’s face: “If I could have a quiet word?”
“I’ll join you outside,” Hal told Sumiko.
“No offense, Sir,” Smitty spluttered. “The wife lost her grandfather in 1945 at Hellfire Pass. The Japs cut off his ears and fed ’em to the other POWs. No way are we having yellow bastards under our roof. I’m a Kipling Man. White Man’s Burden. Nothing personal, mind. This being Christmas. Good Will To All Men with some exceptions, matey. Any road, I don’t hold with Christianity. I’m what they call a humanist. There’s not much in the Bible about Japs.”
Hal felt his hands forming fists. “Was ist mit Deutschen?” (“What about Germans?”)
The hooded eyes flickered. “Verpisst euch—raus hier!” (“Get the fuck out of here!”)
69
The Vicar said Sumiko could have the run of his kitchen, “for what it’s worth, which isn’t much. I’m afraid I’m vegetarian. I do have a spot of fish. Coley. The Japanese like coley, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Please, can I talk to Captain Stirling a moment … in private … would you mind?”
Sumiko left them alone in the kitchen.
“How much do I owe you for the room?” Hal asked.
“Just give me a check made out to the Cathedral Church of the Resurrection in Lahore. Some other time. I’ll send it on.” The Vicar closed the kitchen door and leaned against it. “I was going to phone you anyway.” He frowned. “It’s just that we won’t be having your reading at Midnight Mass. The service is far too long as it is.”
“Is that the real reason?”
“Well, not exactly. Only that one or two of the locals think it would be inappropriate. I mean, do attend. Don’t get me wrong. Bring your lady friend and the little girl too, though I fancy it’ll be a bit past her bedtime.”
“What are you telling me?”
“There are rumors going the rounds.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Me?”
“About you and Francesca Vale.”
“What rumors?”
“What you’d expect when a man and a woman are involved. Need I explain?”
“We’re both adult.”
“I know. But there’s an understanding among the clergy that there’s an inviolable confidence between the individual priest and the parishioner.”
“The penitent?”
“The penitent. Though you haven’t asked me for God’s forgiveness.”
“Try me. I might. You’re talking to someone who’s a signatory to the Official Secrets Act.”
“What
do you know of Sister Teresa’s parentage?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know whether this is ultimately a matter of regret or not. But I regret that what I have to tell you isn’t going to make your life any easier.” He spoke as if to the ceiling.
“Tell me and we’ll see.”
The Vicar folded his hands together. “I’m told your father was a secretive man,” he said.
“In professional matters,” Hal said. “Yes. He was.”
“And, it also seems, in more personal matters.”
“What do you mean, more personal matters?”
“It’s about Sister Vale.”
“What about her?”
“I found myself in the unfortunate position,” the Vicar said, “of being asked to help establish Teresa’s parentage. What d’you know of it?”
“I’ve told you already. Means nothing to me.”
“What I must tell you is about to change that.”
“It isn’t any of my business.”
“I’m afraid it is. It seems to me, now’s as good a time as any to let you know the truth of things.” He began to finger the crucifix dangling from his neck. His eyes look frightened. “You and Teresa are your father’s offspring.”
Hal clutched his throat.
“I don’t want to upset you,” the Vicar said. “I’m afraid it’s true. Your father paid regular sums of money by way of what you could call child maintenance. In that respect he was an honorable man.”
“How d’you know this?”
“My predecessor told me. He saw the legal agreements, the relevant bank statements, details of credit transfers and so on.”
“How did he get hold of them?”
“He didn’t get hold of them. He only saw them. His brother was branch manager of your family’s bank in Carlisle. There was a problem with the Inland Revenue. Documents required witnessing. My predecessor obliged. He also, by the way, baptized Teresa and her daughter. Both of them confided in him. Your father likewise, though perhaps that wasn’t entirely in character.”
