Angels and Men

by Catherine Fox

  ‘Well? How do I look?’

  His lips twitched. ‘ “’Tis with you e’en standing water, between man and boy.” ’

  She saw her opportunity. ‘Did you play Malvolio in a school production?’

  He looked at her in distaste. ‘I’m an English graduate. I study Shakespeare.’

  Yes – themes of equivocation, or something. She began to move towards the door. They went down the stairs towards the music. The polecat linked his arm through hers.

  ‘ “What shall I call thee when thou art a man?” ’

  Ganymede. She bit back the answer. They would end up spending the night trying to catch one another out with fragments of Shakespeare. He tutted, and she felt a surge of anger, but kept her resolve.

  ‘As You Like It,’ he offered as a clue.

  She rounded on him. ‘I know where it’s from,’ she said violently. ‘I’m not going to spend the whole bloody evening vying with you!’

  ‘All right. All right. Christ.’

  ‘It’s not all right. You’re always playing games.’

  He grinned and started to hum. After a moment she recognized the tune: Gaudeamus igitur.

  She pulled her arm away. ‘Sod off.’

  The students in the hallway were starting to look at them. I’m going mad, she thought. Why am I picking a fight with him over a bloody quotation? A cold misery crept over her. What’s the point of it all? At that moment the music stopped and a voice announced that food was now being served in Coverdale dining-hall. A mass of students surged out of the room and moved in the direction of the food. The polecat linked arms with Mara again, and she let him lead her along with the crowd.

  They entered the dining-room. Maddy and May were already there, standing talking to Rupert and Johnny. The polecat steered his way towards them.

  ‘You said you weren’t coming!’ accused Maddy. ‘And that’s not Sixties.’ She was wearing a short dress with violently swirling patterns and an astonishing bust-line like twin warheads pointing at the enemy.

  ‘Ah, but she looks wonderful,’ said Rupert. His eyes rested fleetingly on the rose, and Mara felt the polecat pinch her arm.

  ‘I’m surprised you approve of cross-dressing,’ said Maddy.

  ‘She feels upstaged,’ explained May.

  ‘Lies!’ cried an outraged Maddy.

  May giggled. She had arranged her hair in a beehive style, and attached several large bumble bees to it. Both she and Maddy were wearing false eyelashes like tarantula legs, which they now fluttered simultaneously at the men before going to collect a plateful of food. They have so much more fun than I do, thought Mara.

  ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Mara,’ said Rupert, leaning to kiss her cheek. ‘Why is it that women in men’s clothes look stunning, while men in drag look ridiculous?’

  ‘Because society views women as inherently ridiculous,’ said Mara. He raised his eyes heavenwards. Rupert had forgotten that the girl was a castrating feminist bitch.

  ‘Is he being a prick again?’ asked Johnny.

  ‘Thank you, Whitaker. It was supposed to be a compliment,’ said Rupert.

  Johnny looked at Mara. ‘Do I get a kiss, too?’ he asked.

  ‘Me first,’ said the polecat.

  Johnny laughed. ‘No way, Andrew.’

  Mara flushed. Neither of them kissed her. Rupert tutted in exasperation. She looked from one to the other, and wondered suddenly if she was missing something.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked the polecat disdainfully, indicating the work clothes Johnny was wearing.

  Johnny grinned. Mara couldn’t read the messages which were passing back and forwards.

  ‘I tried to explain that DJ doesn’t stand for donkey jacket,’ said Rupert, ‘but he wouldn’t listen.’

  Johnny gave a slight Andersonian bow, and the four of them followed Maddy and May to the food.

  I shouldn’t have come, thought Mara as they sat round a table. Maddy was entertaining them with a rendition of ‘Help’ in Covent Garden style between mouthfuls. The room was full of shrieking and laughter. A conga was forming noisily. It wove in and out of the tables, growing all the time. I’ll find a moment to slip away, thought Mara.

  ‘Eat,’ said the polecat in her ear.

  She had no fight left and began to eat.

  ‘Won’t you ple-ee-ease help me!’ boomed Maddy marvellously above the noise.

  At last they had finished eating, and at Johnny’s suggestion they all headed for the college bar. People and noise everywhere. The conga caught them up in its coils as it wound along the corridors, down the steps and through the bar. They broke off and found a corner. The polecat brought Mara a drink. He drew up a stool behind her and sat close. She felt his arms go round her, and looked up at the mirror on the wall of the bar to see his head beside hers again. She drank, feeling her heart begin to pound. Why is he doing this? She watched the others to see if they had noticed.

  Rupert was explaining something to May, who was undermining every word with flutters of her false eyelashes. Mara could tell from his expression that he didn’t mind. Maddy was singing again, and this time Johnny was joining in. He has a good voice, thought Mara in surprise. She had an image of him on a rooftop somewhere against the sky, whistling and singing in the wind. By now he had taken his jacket off and he looked more like a builder than ever. She watched the muscles moving in his arm as he raised his drink. If I had a pencil . . . He glanced across at her, and she looked away, back at the polecat in the mirror. He was watching Johnny with a brooding expression, and his fingers were playing with her hair as absently as though it were his own. We’re quite alike, she thought. Similar height and build, similar colouring. Except he’s better-looking. Same nasty disposition. Suddenly his eyes were on hers. She jumped slightly, and he looked at her questioningly.

  ‘I was thinking how alike we are.’

  ‘God, yes. Twin souls.’ He laughed softly. She felt his lips at her ear. ‘And I bet we’re sitting here lusting after the same man.’

  Her mind reeled back. Her lips moved, but she could find no words. Nothing is, but what is not. Her hand felt stupidly for her plait which wasn’t there.

  ‘Then you’re gay.’

  ‘Oh, come off it. You knew that, Mara.’

  She shook her head.

  He laughed. ‘Well, you must be the only person in the whole university who didn’t.’

  She reached out blindly for her drink. No wonder. No wonder. ‘What makes you think I wanted your body?’ His face as he said, ‘Don’t be stupid.’ And he wanted to kiss Johnny, not me.

  ‘This isn’t another game?’ she asked. But she saw in his eyes that it was not. He began playing with her hair again, watching her, waiting for her to respond. Maybe I knew. Maybe I did. I’d never let another man do what he does. And a sigh escaped from her. Despair, or relief, she wasn’t sure which. Say something, you fool. He’ll think you disapprove.

  ‘I’m useless at these things,’ she blurted out. ‘I never know what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’ He leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s frightening. You need a guardian angel.’ She flinched. ‘At any rate, you need another drink.’ He went to buy her one, leaving her stupefied. After a moment Mara realized that Rupert was speaking to her.

  ‘Have you lost your twin?’ She scrabbled wildly for a reply.

  ‘He’s at the bar,’ said May, pointing.

  He meant the polecat. Her hand shook as she picked up her drink.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Rupert. She said nothing. He pursed his lips in irritation. He had never quite got over his anger at her for walking on the ice. She stared at her drink.

  ‘She thought you were talking about her sister,’ explained May. ‘She’s got a twin sister called Hester.’

  I’ve got to get out! But at once they were all crowding in with questions, leaving her no room. You’ve got a twin? Why didn’t you tell us? Are you identical twins?

  May began answering for her. ‘T
hey’re not identical, are you, Mara? Hester’s shorter, and – well, we love Mara dearly, of course, but Hester’s . . . beautiful. In a more conventional way, I mean,’ she added as Rupert protested.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ demanded Maddy. Mara said nothing. Oh, get me out of here! ‘I’ve always wanted to be a twin.’ Rupert and Johnny crossed themselves simultaneously. ‘Shut up, you bastards! I think it would be wonderful.’

  ‘You should invite her up,’ said May. ‘What’s she doing these days? Did she go to Cambridge, too?’ The polecat returned and handed her a new glass.

  ‘No.’ Her throat was parched. The subject had come upon her too suddenly.

  ‘Well, what does she do?’ asked Rupert in irritation.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing? What do you mean, “nothing”? You mean she’s unemployed?’ Her mind was stuttering. Just give me time. ‘Why do you always have to be so mysterious?’ snapped Rupert.

  Anger reared up, blotting everything out. ‘Because it’s none of your fucking business!’ The bar grew strange before her eyes. Rupert opened his mouth to speak, but Johnny laid a hand on his arm. It was all happening in slow motion. Like a dream. They were all staring at her. She put her glass down with a clatter and plunged heedlessly out of the bar.

  The night was foggy. Mara stood under a tree down on the steep terrace. The party went on overhead in the distance, song after song. Above it all the bells chimed. Quarter. Half. Three-quarters. I’m losing myself. Like sand through a clenched fist. If only I could get a tight enough grip. Well, I’m not beaten yet. I’ll go and explain. There’s no problem. I was just taken by surprise, that’s all. But she made no move. Her hand pulled and pulled at a strand of hair. Footsteps. The polecat. He drew close, took her hand.

  ‘Is this to do with me?’

  ‘No.’ How clear her voice sounded. ‘It’s about my sister. I’m going to go and explain.’

  ‘The party’s over,’ he said. ‘They’re all in Rupert’s room. Why don’t you come?’

  She pulled away. ‘I just need time.’

  ‘You’ve been here nearly two hours.’

  She tugged at her hair until she pulled a handful out.

  ‘Don’t, Mara.’ He caught her hand again. ‘Look, this is a spiritual thing, isn’t it? You aren’t an atheist, are you?’ She shook her head. ‘Then pray, for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she burst out.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she shouted at him. ‘I’m lost. I’m an apostate.’

  ‘Then God will help you.’

  ‘He can’t.’

  ‘If he’s God, he can. By definition.’

  ‘You don’t believe in God.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘How can you live?’ She tried to pull free, but he gripped her harder than ever. ‘If there’s no God, there’s no point. No foundation for anything. No morals, no meaning, no hope. You’ve got nothing.’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  ‘Then how can you live? What can you do in a world like that?’

  ‘What amuses me.’

  ‘That’s your creed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why do I matter to you?’ The bells chimed in the silence.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘That’s the Joker in the pack, isn’t it? – caring for people.’ They stood in the fog and the branches dripped all around them. Softly she let the strand of hair fall. ‘Come along,’ he said, and led her back to the building.

  All four of the others were in Rupert’s room. They fell silent as she and the polecat entered. Maddy and May were sitting on the bed in their outrageous costumes. A strange calm came over Mara. She was an actor with an easy part. Rupert took a step towards her. She spoke her first line:

  ‘I’m sorry I swore at you.’

  ‘I’m sorry I provoked you. I don’t want to force you to talk.’

  ‘It’s all right. I don’t mind. It was just –’

  Johnny took her hand suddenly. ‘Don’t do that, sweetheart.’

  She looked and saw she had pulled more hair out. He let her go. She twisted the strand round her finger, tight, tighter. ‘I don’t mind telling you.’ The hair cut into the flesh. ‘My sister’s dead. It’s not supposed to be a secret.’

  ‘No!’ burst out May.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Rupert.

  ‘She drowned.’

  Behind her she felt the polecat gathering her hair in his hands, pulling it gently from her grip. May began to sob. Mara watched them all. Maddy was crying too. If it were on stage, it would be bad acting, but it was real. Real tears from under those ridiculous lashes.

  ‘She drowned in Galilee.’ Even her lines were ridiculous. She felt the polecat’s hands sliding gently through her hair, over and over again.

  Only Rupert seemed able to speak. ‘What . . . Was she on holiday? I mean –’

  ‘She lived there. On a community.’

  ‘A kibbutz?’

  ‘A Christian community. The Church of the Revelation.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ This was Johnny. She looked, but he had turned away.

  ‘Not . . .’ Rupert began. ‘It’s been in the papers. Is it the same group? There’s some scandal.’ She saw he was struggling. ‘The leader’s on trial.’

  He’s on trial. One day, when this is long past, I shall dance.

  ‘I hope he burns,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, Mara.’ Rupert’s face was white. ‘Then she was one of them.’

  ‘She can’t be dead,’ sobbed May. ‘When did she die?’

  ‘Last June.’ I was sitting Finals.

  ‘It was . . . Was it an accident?’ asked Rupert.

  ‘An open verdict.’ No note. Nobody saw. Nothing. The polecat’s hands were still moving through her hair.

  ‘I can’t bear it!’ said Maddy. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  Great streaks of eyeliner had run down her face. What was there to tell? She was dead. Mara shrugged.

  ‘Haven’t you talked to anyone about it?’ asked Rupert.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Why couldn’t they see that? ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘But you’ll have to –’

  ‘Don’t, Rupert,’ broke in Johnny.

  There was a pause. A moment of calm. Of beauty, almost. Then the lights started. Her hands went to her head as her vision filled with jagged flickering.

  ‘I’ve got a migraine,’ she said. ‘I’m going back to my room.’

  She walked through the corridors, stumbling as her eyesight failed. The polecat took her arm, leading her up the stairs, opening her door for her. She knew what lay ahead. Pain and darkness. Her head was bursting with light, brighter than any refiner’s fire. The angel of judgement. The end of the world.

  CHAPTER 14

  She was out running in the woods. Each step was harder than the last. What’s wrong with me? Rain was falling. Her feet slid on the path. I’ll never get up the hill. She forced herself on. I will do it. I will. Halfway. Her feet slipped and she fell. She struggled up from the mud. A man appeared at the top of the slope. He had white hair and a white face. She saw his hands move to his flies and she turned and slithered down the slope again. Run, run. Why would her legs not work? Her heart would burst. The trees twisted and bulged. There would be more men there, behind the bushes, round the corners, rearing up, undoing themselves. Sweat was stinging in her eyes. She was on the road again, feet pounding. Over the bridge. Up the cobbled street. College steps. Too soon. I shouldn’t have gone out so soon after a migraine. Oh, God. She bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. I’m covered in mud. At last she straightened and went in through the door. Her legs shook under her as she climbed. Sleep. I’ll shower and sleep till lunch. Last flight. One step at a time. She found her keys, fumbled with the lock and entered her room. She closed her eyes and leant against the wall in relief. After a long moment she opened them. Joanna was sitting on the bed, waiting for her.

 
‘Get out!’

  The cleaners – they’d let her in. The girl sat with her stupid secret smile on her face. Behold the handmaid of the Lord. She’s been looking through my things.

  ‘The Lord’s wanting me to give you a message.’

  ‘Tell him to fuck off.’

  The girl twitched and opened and shut her mouth. ‘You can’t say that.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘You’re rebelling against God. You’ve got a spirit of rebellion.’ Her scalp crawled. A million snakes writhing. ‘How often do you pray, Mara?’

  ‘How often do you masturbate?’ Red spots like slap-marks appeared on the girl’s face.

  ‘You’ve really got to get down and pray and repent, Mara. I’m not the one that’s telling you that. It’s the Lord. I’m saying what I’m told to say.’ Go! Get out! Just get out! ‘He’s saying that he’s been patient with you, but that his patience won’t last for ever.’ Oh, Christ, this stench of rotting piety. The Lord, the Lord, the Lord says! This is what drove me out. I lost him, I lost it all. It was smeared over, Christ smeared over with the cloying ointment of whores, with their tears, rubbed by sanctimonious whores; human filth and blood.

  ‘I know you hate me,’ said the girl, kindly, gently, ‘but it’s not me you’re hating – it’s Jesus. I understand, though. It’s hard for you, Mara. I know it is. The Lord’s shown me it’s because you’re jealous. You know that he’s set aside a special man to work with me. God’s doing a new thing. There have been prophecies and words of knowledge about it. He’s shown me I need to be under the headship of the man he’s chosen. I asked him for a sign, and he’s given me one.’

  ‘Just get out!’

  ‘You see – you can’t bear to hear it, Mara, because it’s true. You know it’s the truth. I’m going to pray that you’ll be released.’

  Strange syllables began to bubble from her lips. She came towards Mara with outstretched hands. Oh, God help me, help me. Mara retreated. Her face twitched. She was against the wall, groping for the door. Suddenly it opened. The polecat.