The Followers

by Rebecca Wait

Esther, as usual, said nothing. Stephanie tried not to mind.

  ‘Did your children have any problems when you first came here?’ she said to Rachael, deliberately avoiding names since she couldn’t remember which of the children, apart from Moses, actually belonged to Rachael. She was having enough trouble getting to grips with the adult relationships – Rachael married to Seth, Deborah to Joshua, Esther to Thomas, Ruth on her own. Specific families in the Ark were not clearly demarcated. Stephanie had found this strange at first, but now she was coming round to Nathaniel’s way of thinking, that it was better this way; everyone belonged to one much larger family.

  ‘All the children of the Ark were born here,’ Rachael said.

  Stephanie tried to hide her shock. ‘They’ve never lived – on the outside?’

  ‘No, they were born where they belong.’

  Stephanie digested this in silence. ‘It’s harder for Judith,’ she said at last. ‘She misses Megan a lot. Her best friend from school.’

  ‘It’s healthier not to look back,’ Rachael said. ‘We have to cleanse ourselves of the old, negative influences. You must try not to talk about your former life. We’re not supposed to.’

  ‘I know. But there’s bound to be an adjustment period, isn’t there?’ She paused, deciding to try out on Rachael an idea she’d been weighing up for a couple of days. ‘I think if I took Judith back to see Megan next weekend it might cheer her up. Help her feel that life isn’t so bad after all. And afterwards I could get her a treat in town, a hot chocolate or something. A bit of time just the two of us, to make her feel special.’

  Rachael had been scrubbing away at the oven throughout their conversation, but now Stephanie noticed that she’d gone still.

  Rachael said after a few beats, ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

  ‘I know it’s important to cleanse ourselves of the old influences,’ Stephanie said. ‘But perhaps if Judith was allowed to do it a bit more gradually—’

  ‘No,’ Rachael broke in, gentle but firm. ‘Take my advice and put that thought out of your head, Sarah. It won’t do any good.’

  Stephanie was surprised to be addressed by her new name like this, so casually in the middle of a conversation. Nathaniel had given her the impression that it was a special extra name rather than a replacement, a name ‘for best’ as her mother might have said, and a symbol of her acceptance here. But there didn’t seem to be a way of explaining this to Rachael without it being awkward.

  She decided not to raise the subject of a visit to the town again until she was alone with Nathaniel, but somehow he seemed to know about it before she had a chance to mention it. When she was preparing supper that evening with Rachael, Deborah and Esther, he appeared in the kitchen with Ruth by his side.

  ‘Can I borrow you for a few moments?’ he said.

  Stephanie wasn’t alarmed until they reached the small house and it turned out he wasn’t leading her upstairs to their bedroom but to the prayer room. Inexplicably, Ruth was still with them.

  But when he told her to sit down, his voice was as gentle as ever. She sat on the wooden chair that was placed in the middle of the room and he pulled up another close to hers, sitting with his hands resting on her thighs. She would have been comforted by this gesture were she not acutely aware of Ruth standing stiffly in the doorway.

  ‘Now,’ Nathaniel said, looking at her intently. ‘What’s all this about you wanting to go back to the town?’

  ‘Oh!’ She rushed to reassure him. ‘No, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I don’t want to go back. I love it here.’

  ‘Be honest with me,’ he said. ‘Be honest as you always have been. What’s all this you’ve been saying about taking Judith to visit her friend?’

  So which of them had told him? Remembering Esther’s silence in the kitchen, Stephanie thought she knew. ‘Well, yes, I did, but I wasn’t talking about staying. I just meant a quick visit, for Judith’s sake. She’s having a really hard time, Nathaniel. There’s no one I want to see, obviously.’ She felt tears rising in her, brought on by his obvious disappointment, by Ruth’s silent, disapproving presence, and by the sense that she had been deliberately betrayed. ‘This is all just a big misunderstanding,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  ‘I think it must be, my love,’ he said, and she was grateful for his softened tone.

  She reached out to touch his face, deciding she didn’t care that Ruth was watching. ‘Of course I don’t want to leave you,’ she said. ‘I love you.’

  ‘And I love you,’ he said. ‘But you must see that you can’t go and visit the town. The whole point is that we’ve saved you from that.’

  Slowly, she did begin to see. ‘You mean – I’m not supposed to leave here ever?’

  He seemed taken aback by her question. ‘But how can you have thought you could?’

  She could only shrug helplessly.

  He said, ‘What would be the point in making the kind of commitment you’ve made if it could be so easily undone? I thought you knew all this from the start. How can you not have known?’

  She tried to swallow down her dismay. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘You’re not a prisoner here. Just say the word and I’ll drive you and Judith back to town. Anytime you want. But you must see that once you’ve left you can’t come back. That’s how it works. You commit to this life totally or you don’t commit at all. Your choice.’

  ‘If I left, would I ever see you?’

  He seemed unable to answer at once. ‘I – no, you wouldn’t. Half-measures don’t work. I can’t be only half with you. I can’t be only half in love with you.’

  She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. She had nothing to go back to, anyway.

  ‘If you left me,’ he murmured, ‘I don’t know how I’d bear it.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’ She felt his slow exhalation of relief, soft against her face. She said, ‘But – what about shopping and things?’

  He leaned back. ‘Little one, are you really telling me the thing you’re going to miss most is trips to Tesco? You’ll simply tell Seth or Joshua or Thomas what you need, and they’ll do the shopping for you after they’ve finished work. Does that sound so bad?’

  She let him kiss her, though Ruth was still watching. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t sound bad.’

  And the more she thought about it, the more stupid it seemed not to have realized the women never left. Whether or not she could remember anyone actually telling her, it had been right in front of her from the start. Nothing had been hidden. Nathaniel had said the women were looked after properly here – and she’d been so relieved at the idea, however old-fashioned it might have sounded, that she could hardly start complaining now.

  She said, ‘It seems strange to think I’ll never see anything except the moors, and the two houses and the barn.’

  ‘But what would you have seen if you’d stayed in the town?’ he said. ‘The same streets every day, the same miserable concrete buildings, the same unhappy people. Everyone out there is trapped in their tiny, confined space. Perhaps the scenery here is just as limited in a way, but now your mind can expand so much further than it ever could in the town. You can experience true happiness for the first time.’

  She nodded, and he kissed her again. She reminded herself how lucky she was that he’d found her.

  But as she rejoined the other women in the kitchen, she couldn’t help giving Esther a quick glance. Esther met her gaze neutrally, but Stephanie was beginning to distrust her blankness. It alarmed her that without even realizing how or why, she already seemed to have made an enemy within the Ark.

  6

  When Thomas went up to their bedroom, he found she’d been crying again – Esther’s was a face that always showed it. But she would never admit it, nor let him comfort her, so he didn’t comment.

  She said, ‘Was work alright today?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ (It hadn’t been, not really; the supermarket seemed to
grow more depressing every day.) ‘How’s your quilt coming along?’ She’d shown it to him the previous week, rather shyly, when everyone else was still in the kitchen. Thomas had been entranced. The other women’s quilts lay folded in the corner and he could admire their neatness, the soothing wash of pastel shades, lilacs and creams and soft blues. But when Esther unfurled hers, it looked like it was on fire. Triangles of bright gold were sewn into a star in the centre, with an explosion of vibrant reds, oranges and yellows fracturing outwards from it, the spiked edges of the blast eventually turning back to gold before the pattern began again.

  ‘That’s incredible,’ had been his – inadequate – response.

  ‘Ruth says it’s too “loud” to sell,’ Esther had said. ‘I’m hoping that means I can keep it. Is that sinful of me?’

  He had wondered if perhaps it was, but she looked so cheerful that he didn’t pursue the thought, saying instead, ‘I think it’s beautiful.’

  But now Esther said, coming towards him and taking his hand, ‘It’s nearly done, but Ruth says Seth has to take it to the market with the others.’

  ‘Oh,’ Thomas said. ‘Well, perhaps no one will buy it.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said quickly, but she put her hand to his face.

  ‘I know.’ At last her smile was back. ‘Don’t look so worried.’

  She stepped back and began to undress, not bothering to turn away from him. He adored her ease with him, the grace with which she pulled her dress over her head and unbuttoned her blouse, the delicacy of her shoulders and collarbones. Her lack of self-consciousness amazed him as she slipped off her underwear and walked naked to the chest of drawers to fetch her nightgown. It was a source of secret shame that he couldn’t match her. He turned away to fumble with his shirt buttons.

  He didn’t hear her coming up behind him – her steps were as quiet and soft as a cat’s – but then her arms went round him and he felt her cheek against his back. He turned, awkwardly pulling his pyjama trousers all the way up, wanting to be hidden.

  When he looked down at her face, he felt a rush of love that was almost painful. He was struck once more by how extraordinary it was that a woman like this could be married to him – that he of all people had been chosen for her. Noticing again the redness of her eyes, he said tentatively, ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, Esther. You know that, don’t you?’

  She looked down, giving a small shrug.

  ‘It’s not because of any failing in you,’ he said.

  She murmured something, too softly for him to hear. He leaned closer. ‘What?’

  ‘I did fail,’ she repeated.

  ‘That was God’s decision, not something you did.’

  ‘I must have been unworthy.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not unworthy. Stop it. God has other plans for you, that’s all. Trust God and the prophet.’

  ‘Of course I trust them,’ she said, and he saw that the wall had gone up again.

  He said, ‘It’s a gift, I think. That He’s giving us back to each other.’

  Finally, she looked up, and the brightness was back in her eyes. ‘I love you,’ she said.

  He couldn’t say it back to her; the feeling didn’t fit into the frail words.

  The prophet sought Thomas out alone the next day and led him away from the houses.

  ‘Look at this,’ Nathaniel said, gesturing out across the uneven tracts of moorland that shambled away from them in every direction. ‘We’re lucky to have this reminder of God’s glory.’

  Thomas nodded, but he was shivering. Although they were still in autumn, the wind was sharp today, and they hadn’t stopped to get their coats.

  The prophet said, ‘We’re all adjusting to change, aren’t we?’ He laid a hand on Thomas’s arm.

  ‘Sarah seems to be settling in well,’ Thomas said.

  ‘Yes. I’m pleased with her.’ A silence, then he added, ‘How’s Esther doing?’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘Things will go back to normal soon enough,’ Nathaniel said. ‘I hope Esther knows that.’

  Thomas nodded without thinking, then saw what Nathaniel meant. His dismay was so strong and so painful that he couldn’t have resisted it even if he’d thought to try. It must have shown in his face.

  Nathaniel said, ‘What, did you think I’d just abandon her? Thomas,’ he chided softly, ‘don’t you know me better than that?’

  ‘Of course,’ Thomas said. But in his mind, his treacherous mind, the devil sent his reply: Why do you need them both? Why Esther as well, when it’s clear she can’t give you a child? She’s my wife.

  He tried to rein in his thoughts. Satan, I refuse you.

  ‘You must see I can’t undo what God’s done,’ Nathaniel said. ‘He gave me Esther. I won’t cast her aside as though she’s worthless.’

  Thomas made himself nod. But he thought, I would walk through fire for her. Why do you need them both? Why both?

  Satan, I refuse you.

  Satan, I refuse you.

  Satan, I refuse you.

  After

  Judith finally caught up with Nick as he was going into the pub for his evening shift. Swinging her satchel off her shoulder, she smashed it into his arm. ‘Bastard!’

  ‘What the hell?’ He caught it and pulled it away from her.

  ‘You piece of shit,’ Judith said. She’d misjudged this, was angrier than she’d realized on the way over here. Too angry to do this, too angry to talk to him without breaking down and crying in the street. God, she actually wanted to kill him. If she could get him onto the ground, she thought she might kick him to death with her size-four combat boots.

  What had Nick said to her once? We’re all capable of killing. Circumstances shape us.

  They’d been wasted, were in their first year at university and hadn’t known each other long. Nick had reached the stage of drunkenness where he was throwing his words out carelessly; he’d probably never even thought about it before. But Judith had had to get up from the sofa and make for the door. In the street, she had retched.

  ‘Judith!’ Nick said, still holding onto the strap of her satchel. ‘You scared me. I thought I was being mugged.’

  She wiped the tears away furiously. ‘I can’t believe you did it.’ But shouldn’t she have known better than this, better than to be so hurt? If she’d learnt anything, it was surely that nothing people did ought to surprise you. With renewed energy, she pulled her bag free from his grasp and swung it at him again.

  ‘Stop it. What have I done?’

  She couldn’t answer him. Nick took her arm. ‘Come inside. You need to sit down.’

  She let herself be steered into the pub and through to the back room, where he deposited her on the sofa. He returned a moment later with a pint of water and pushed it into her hand. Judith sipped it and tried to take some deep breaths.

  Nick went to sit beside her, then appeared to reconsider and pulled up a chair opposite her instead, out of the satchel’s range.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’ When she didn’t speak, he said, ‘Please, Judith. Just tell me what I’ve done.’

  She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes and then made herself look at him. ‘You know what you’ve done.’

  ‘I don’t. Honestly.’

  ‘You told them,’ she said. ‘A newspaper. You told them about my mum. You bastard.’

  His eyes widened, his face almost a parody of confusion. He said, ‘What about your mum? I’ve never met her. I don’t know anything about her.’

  Judith watched him, wrong-footed. His bewilderment looked put on, but all Nick’s expressions came out that way. He was like a child in that respect, everything in his mind played out extravagantly across his face. She’d always thought he’d be the last person to lie to her; he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Belatedly, Judith realized why she’d been drawn to him in the first place: he reminded her of Moses.

  Nick said, ‘What hap
pened to your mother? What have I told a newspaper? Judith, what’s going on?’

  His shock seemed genuine. She said slowly, testing him, ‘Have you heard of the Ark of God? The group that lived on the moors?’

  There it was on his face, the dawning horror.

  She said, ‘My mother’s in prison. Been there eight years.’

  Nick didn’t speak for a moment. At last, he said, ‘Fucking hell. That’s awful. Fuck.’ Then, when Judith didn’t reply, he added, ‘I swear I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. I mean – I always thought there must be something. Because you were so private about everything. But I thought maybe it was a nasty divorce or some kind of family feud. Not this.’

  Gradually, she realized that she believed him. She stood up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he said.

  ‘Home.’ A pause, then she added, ‘Sorry I called you a bastard.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ He stood up too. ‘You gave me a dead arm. I didn’t tell you before in case it encouraged you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said again.

  She made for the door but he stopped her. ‘Judith, don’t go. If this is why you’ve been acting weird, can’t we just – go back to how things were?’

  She shook her head but didn’t answer because she was afraid of crying again. She got herself out of the door but he came with her.

  ‘Please stay,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t.’

  She forced herself to walk away from him. He was steady and he’d been a good friend to her. But she would manage without him. She was so used to missing Moses that it would hardly make any difference.

  Perhaps it was better for us because we were only children, Moses wrote. I hope you’re OK. That’s what I hope the most.

  III

  Heaven is high

  1

  ‘The wages of sin is death!’ Moses shouted with something close to delight when Ruth finally picked him. Beside him, he felt Judith wince, but he knew she was putting it on.

  ‘Good, Moses,’ Ruth said, though she always seemed to mean it less when she said it to him. ‘Can you give us another example?’