by Robin Crumby
“The padre and I don’t always see eye to eye, but we want the same thing. The final Day of Reckoning is nearly upon us when we will all be counted,” Sister Theodora answered, rising from her seat. “The wrath of God does not distinguish between good and evil. We will all be buried in the same grave and suffer the same fate on this Earth. The difference will come in the Afterlife.”
“The Afterlife?” said Riley, struggling to keep a straight face. She decided it was best not to mention that her father had raised her to be sceptical of all religious beliefs.
“Yes, when the sinners will be brought forward, one by one, to stand trembling before God and he will look upon them as they cry in horror, begging for mercy until he takes his vengeance upon them.” Her voice rose to a crescendo. “The good will be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven, and the evil sentenced to the flames of an eternal fire in the darkness of Hell.”
As she finished her “fire and brimstone” sermon, Riley realised that the room had fallen silent as everyone listened earnestly to the sister.
“What about all those who fall somewhere in between?” countered Riley. “Is it really so binary?”
“Ask yourself whether you are guilty of aping piety, maintaining the outward appearance of devotion without actually embracing God in your heart. Such hypocrisy and flattery reveal a rottenness in our very souls. By even entertaining thoughts of adultery, theft, or murder, we all deserve to be punished.”
The others nodded, accepting this pronouncement. Riley pushed her half-finished plate away. She had lost her appetite.
****
After dinner, Sister Imelda led Riley through to a well-furnished sitting room where a group of girls were playing cards on a Persian rug. An older woman sitting in a high-backed leather armchair was explaining the rules.
One of the girls looked up as the sister and Riley entered. The resemblance to Zed was unmistakable. In profile, she had handsome features, long eyelashes, and brown hair. She looked older than her thirteen years, already a woman. There was an earthy vitality and natural curiosity that Riley recognised from her father.
“Heather? Can we borrow you for a few minutes? I have someone I would like you to meet.”
Rather reluctantly, the girl placed her cards on the rug and sidled over. A lock of hair tumbled across her face, half-concealing unmistakable defiance as she met Riley’s gaze, waiting for someone to explain.
“Why don’t we sit over here,” said the sister, gesturing towards a quieter corner.
“If this is about what happened yesterday…” Heather began to say.
“Heather, this is Riley, a friend of your father’s.”
“My father?” She blinked back with no hint of emotion.
“Yes, your father sent me to collect you, to bring you to him,” Riley said.
“My father is alive?” she repeated. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he come himself?”
“It’s a long story.”
“No offence, lady, but you could be anyone. How do I know you’re a friend of my dad’s? The school warned us about people like you. You could be trying to abduct me.”
“What?”
“Human traffickers forcing kids into slavery. It happens all the time.”
“I can vouch for this woman,” said the sister.
Heather continued to stare at Riley, sizing her up. “Okay. Let’s say you are who you say you are. What’s my dad doing that could possibly be more important than collecting his daughter?” She snorted in disbelief.
“He’s working for the colonel. Ask him yourself when you see him tomorrow.”
“Typical. He was always putting his work before his kids. If you expect me to trust you, prove to me that you know my dad.”
“What do you want to know? He’s tall, dark hair, beard, bit grumpy, prefers his own company. Mole on his left, no, right cheek, piercing blue eyes, bit like yours. He has a slight scar on his nose where he broke it playing rugby.”
“Go on.”
“Your mum is Tracy, and you have a younger brother called Connor. Satisfied?”
As Riley ran through the details, Heather’s eyes seem to widen as she came to terms with the fact her father really was alive. Her expression was a mixture of emotions, oscillating between wonder and anger.
“You said my dad works for a colonel? But he’s a teacher.”
“Before he became a teacher, he worked for the Ministry of Defence. You would have been just a baby.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve seen his service record. He was an Iraq specialist. Back in the nineties, he was assigned to the United Nations team investigating illegal weapons programmes. I’m not making this up,” added Riley, noticing Heather’s incredulous expression.
“It doesn’t matter.” Heather shook her head. “I couldn’t care less if he’s alive or dead. You don’t know him like I do. He left us, moved out. Went to live somewhere else. He’s a pig. We only got to see him once a month. What kind of father deserts his family when they need him most?”
“I’m sure you have every right to be angry. Not knowing what happened to you tore him apart. Your father is a good man.”
“Mum promised he would find us. We waited so long for him. He was probably too busy saving himself.”
“I know it’s hard to believe but a lot of people owe your dad their lives, myself included. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what would have happened. Your father saved us. We would have been killed or driven away.”
“You make out like he’s some big hero. Well, he’s not. He never had any time for us. He couldn’t have cared less.”
“When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
“Don’t patronise me. You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened. You only know his side of the story.”
“Look, I’m sure I can’t begin to imagine what you and your family went through. Whatever you may think, I’m sure your father had his reasons.”
“What happened to your mother and brother, Heather?” asked Sister Imelda, trying to defuse the exchange.
“Mum died not long after the outbreak. Connor didn’t make it through quarantine. For all I know, he’s dead too.” She closed her eyes in torment. “They said he had the virus, but if he had it, then I had it too.”
“Not necessarily,” corrected the sister. “It doesn’t work like that. Do you know where they took him?”
“They put him with all the sick people. They said that if he got better he would be sent to the school. I waited and waited, but he never came.”
Listening to Heather, it was impossible not to be moved. Underneath the overwhelming sense of sadness, Riley became aware of something she had not felt in some time. As mercenary as it sounded, if Zed’s wife had passed away, it meant Zed was a free man, and Heather was her responsibility now.
Chapter Twenty-three
After a troubled night’s sleep disturbed by dark dreams of avenging angels and demons, Riley was woken early by the muffled noises of a large hotel stirring into life. Outside, it was still dark, but they needed to make an early start if they were going to make it to the hospital in good time.
After a meagre breakfast of porridge and fresh fruit, Riley found her way to a small stable where a young girl about Heather’s age was fastening bridles to three horses.
“Can you ride?” asked the stablehand.
“Not since I was about your age,” said Riley.
Heather appeared, struggling under the weight of a heavy leather saddle which she handed to the other girl.
“There’s nothing to it. You’ll be fine.”
Did nothing phase this girl, thought Riley.
“Bess here is as gentle as they come. She’ll not cause you any trouble, will you, Bess?” said the stablehand.
The large white mare whinnied, snorting at the attention. Riley was helped up into the saddle as the party of three was led out into the courtyard.
“How far is St Mary’s from here?” she asked Sister I
melda.
“Around fifteen miles. With any luck, we should arrive by lunchtime.”
Bess was as well behaved as Riley could have hoped for, trotting obediently behind the other horses. Beyond the outskirts of Ventnor, the gentle slope made for a tiring climb. Once they got beyond the narrow tree-covered lanes flanked by high bushes on either side, the landscape opened up, and they enjoyed views across wide open fields and farmland.
Alongside the road were numerous caravan parks and tented areas where the allies had created temporary accommodation for several hundred new arrivals. Even at this early hour, there were teams toiling in the fields, digging irrigation ditches and turning the soil. The dirt-smeared faces of diligent workers stared up at the passing group with mild amusement, hands on hips. Riley had to admit, the three women on horseback made a curious spectacle.
Sister Imelda insisted they stayed off the main roads, keeping to bridleways and farm tracks where there were fewer vehicles. They stopped at a footbridge over a small stream to refill their water bottles and stretch. The sister had brought with her some oat biscuits, and a hard cheese wrapped in greaseproof paper. She cut the cheese into slices with a pocket knife and handed them around.
Riley had been keeping her eye on Heather. The girl seemed taciturn and withdrawn.
“You’re not still sulking about seeing your father, are you?”
“It’s my choice,” she argued.
“Heather, you’re still a minor,” Sister Imelda pointed out. “You belong with your father.”
“None of the other girls are being forced to leave.”
“That’s because most of them are orphans. They’d give anything to see their families again. You do realise that, don’t you? If I were you, I’d be a bit more grateful to all the people taking time out to reunite you with your father.”
“I don’t know why you’re bothering. He couldn’t care less about his family.”
“You’re wrong. No father ever loved his children more.” In truth, Riley too was puzzled about Zed’s relationship with his daughter. The amateur psychologist in her was whispering that these behaviours were most likely inherited. Zed’s own father was probably to blame. A poor role model who never showed his son any real affection. Zed would have grown up emotionally stunted in some way. Perhaps the Sisterhood had encouraged these same feelings in Heather. Riley knew they were no great fans of Zed.
Sister Imelda listened to their exchange, finishing her snack before packing everything into the rucksack. She checked the map and traced their route with her finger. Without looking up, she addressed a question to no one in particular.
“Have you ever asked yourselves why the virus struck the mainland so hard but the island was mostly spared?”
“Geography, I suppose,” suggested Riley.
“So you think the Solent acted as a natural barrier to infection?”
“That is unless you’re going to tell us it was actually God’s will and that we brought this on ourselves?” mocked Riley, rolling her eyes. “I suppose the islanders were all saints.”
“Don’t listen to her, Heather. You should not make fun of what we believe.”
“The sister believes God hears everything. That we should ‘seal our lips with silence’.”
“Enough of your cheek, young lady.”
“Sorry, sister, my father was an atheist. He taught me to be sceptical of all religion.”
“You must believe in something.”
“Personal responsibility, shared accountability, and reciprocity.”
“Then it is not too late to change your ways. All our lives have been spared so that we may give thanks for God’s mercy. I choose to believe that this was no natural disaster. The sins on the mainland were simply too great to go unpunished. Sister Theodora tells us that the island was spared so that we may begin again. A new promised land: a new Jerusalem.”
“Amen.” Heather sighed.
“Your vile generation deserves as much blame as any,” continued Sister Imelda.
“What did we ever do?”
“Did you never wonder why this pestilence is called the Millennial Virus?”
“I don’t know, because it was discovered around the millennium?”
“No, because it was sent to cleanse young people of their sins.”
“Why us?”
“Your generation was singled out for the greatest punishment. Social media was the catalyst for your transgressions.”
“We deserved to die for a little screen time?”
“You all displayed such wanton gluttony, greed, and pride with your phones and devices, your Facechats and your Snapbooks.”
“Not all of us. I had one of those cheap push-button phones. The only vice I had was some snake game.”
“Then perhaps that is why you were spared.”
Heather and Riley exchanged a glance, and they continued on in silence for a while, lost in their thoughts.
On the farm track just ahead of them, three youths stepped out from behind a small shed. One brandished an iron bar hanging loosely from one hand. He gestured for the three riders to stop. Riley glanced behind them and noticed three more teenagers sealing off the way they had come.
Heather’s horse whinnied and reared up a little, frightened by the youth closest to her. He reached out to try and grab the bridle, but the horse shook its head, baring its teeth.
“Easy now,” soothed the sister, patting her restless horse. “What do you want?” Her voice trembled slightly.
“Perhaps you ladies missed the sign back there.” The youth grinned, two teeth missing from his lower jaw, and pointed behind them. “This here is a private road. If you want to get through, then you have to pay, like everyone else.”
“Who are you then? Dick Turpin?” Riley mocked, while her fingers groped for the small blade she kept hidden in her belt buckle. “How old are you lot, anyway?”
“Old enough,” said the tallest of them, who looked about fifteen. “Why don’t you start by giving me that watch?”
“This old thing? It’s practically worthless.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Anything that works without batteries is worth something.”
“Now look here,” demanded the sister unconvincingly. “You wouldn’t want us to tell the soldiers at the next checkpoint about a bunch of junior highwaymen trying to hold people to ransom, would you?”
“Soldiers? You mean Dad’s Army? We’re not frightened of that lot.” He laughed. “Briggs runs things around here.”
“Briggs?”
“That’s right. If you ain’t got nothing to offer…” His voice trailed off. “Well, then, I’m sure we could work something out. Why don’t you get off those horses and we can discuss this in my office?” he sneered, gesturing towards the farm building nearest them.
Riley glanced nervously at Heather, whose horse was the more unsettled, pacing around. The sound of the huge mare’s hooves on the driveway made the young men keep their distance. Heather did not seem in the least bit frightened. She was sizing up the three lads in front, while keeping an eye on the more timid ones behind. Riley was worried Heather might do something stupid to precipitate matters.
Without warning, Heather clipped her heels and drove the mare forward, shouting him on, making straight for the boy in front. As she galloped past, the teenager dived out of the way. Heather beckoned to Riley and the sister to follow.
One of the boys made a grab for Riley’s bridle, but he was too slow, and the horse barged him out of the way, knocking him flat on his back. The iron rod in his hand was sent clanking down onto the concrete. The sister didn’t hold back and set off after them.
When they caught up with each other, Riley could hear Heather roaring with laughter, like this was all one big joke to her. Over her shoulder, she was relieved to see the youths had not tried to follow.
“That was reckless and stupid, Heather. What if they had grabbed one of us?”
“They were just kids. Bullies like the
m are everywhere. Relax.”
The sister was flush with all the excitement. There was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Well done, Heather. For a moment, I thought we were in trouble. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”
Riley shook her head disapprovingly. “You could have got us all killed, that’s what.”
****
Riley and the others reached St Mary’s just after lunch. She wished she could have photographed the look on the soldiers’ faces as the women approached on horseback. By the time they reached the gate, a crowd had gathered.
“Where can we leave our horses, officer?”
The silver-haired guard at the checkpoint was dumbstruck, scratching at the back of his neck. “Can’t say I know, really. I suppose you could put them behind the mortuary. Just follow the road down to the pond. There’s a small park with some grass. You can’t miss it.”
They thanked the guards and entered the heavily fortified compound that surrounded the hospital buildings. Inside the perimeter fence, there was a bustle about the place. Smoke rose from the large chimney that dominated the main building where Riley had left Adele the day before. Everyone would be wondering where she had got to. Riley had never expected to leave the girl there overnight.
They dismounted and tied the horses to a railing that fenced off one side of the small park, leaving the mares to nibble at the grass.
At the reception desk, an officious-looking woman rifled through a sheaf of paper that contained lists of visitor names. “Adele Crabtree, yes, she’s in the Louis Pasteur ward, second floor. First stairwell you come to on your right-hand side,” she said, pointing down the corridor.
Riley recognised the same nurse from the previous day waiting outside. There was a serious look on her face that worried her.
“Thank God you’re here. We had no way to reach you.”
“What is it?”
“There have been some unexpected complications. I’m afraid that Adele had an adverse reaction to her treatment. Let me get the doctor, and he can explain properly.”
Chapter Twenty-four
