“So the Bible is a fantastic con,” states the Goth. “The work of the Devil,” she adds, with a note of triumph.
“If you believe in the Devil, it may work that way for you,” concedes Sarai good-naturedly. “But for many, the Bible has provided inspiration, given comfort and been the power behind remarkable endeavours. It records a human attempt to find a worthy God and what that God may require of worthy humans. Justice and care for the oppressed is a continuing theme but you need to be aware that the text is not unbiased. For next week I want you to read the whole of Genesis. Yes, it is 50 chapters, but that equates to less than 50 pages. Read it as a novel, the saga of a wealthy family. Get caught up in the story, but note how the women present merely as sex objects in male lives.”
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Kat begins to read Genesis between clients. The cover of the Gideon Bible has a worn look, as if it came to the room with the furniture 30 years ago, yet the pages stick together as though their gilded edges have never been parted. The unfamiliar language makes it slow-going at first but it grows on her. It’s a bit like Shakespeare — she quite enjoyed that at school. The men, she decides, are hung up on producing heirs. To them a biological son is The Important Thing. Do today’s males think this way? Clearly her clients don’t. Pleasure is what they want from sex. Well, if not pleasure, relief, human contact, entertainment — needs vary a bit.
She is dressed for mucky Murray and feels irritated when his knock interrupts her reading. She has just discovered that Hebrew oath-swearing was done by holding the portion of the anatomy considered most sacred by males. It would be interesting if contracts were formalised in that manner today. Also interesting is that among the presents intended for Isaac’s ‘mail-order’ bride are bracelets and a nose ring. Kat fondles the ring in her navel and wonders how Rebekah’s nose ring was inserted.
She bundles Murray into the shower and skims to the end of the chapter. She is pleased to read that young Rebekah was able to take her maids with her. How did they feel about leaving their families forever and traipsing across the wilderness on camels?
Amber parades new fishnet stockings patterned with little starfish. Murray sits twiddling with his grey beard then lunges, fishing for her suspenders and the other hooks of her underwear. Practice hasn’t improved his deftness. She allows an inward giggle. Fancy wanting a client to hurry so she can read the Bible!
By the time Arthur is due to arrive she has followed the fortunes of Rebekah’s twins through sibling-rivalry, trickery, marriages, various offspring, dubious dealings and reconciliation. Though aware that Jacob had 12 sons it is news he had a daughter. Mind you, to have only sons in a family that large was rather defying the odds. Perhaps there were other daughters but being girls they didn’t warrant a mention. What is different about Dinah? Why, then, did Dinah get a mention? Chapter 34 provides answers. Dinah goes visiting female friends, is seen by the son of the top male of the region, and is raped. Kat is surprised to find this violence against a woman graphically described in the Bible, but as she reads gets the feeling that although it is Dinah who is raped, the story is not about Dinah. Her feelings are never mentioned. Dinah gets no dialogue of her own. The story is not about her, it is about what happened to her lowering the status of her father and brothers. The father may have been willing to listen to unleashed feelings but the hot-headed brothers take over. It’s all about avenging their perceived hurt. They use Dinah as bait for their intended violence. It is a truly horrible story.
Arthur’s special knock has extended to three sharp raps followed by two slow. The sound brings an involuntary smile. Tonight he is more focused on completing the business than on titillating games.
Later she has time to read a few more chapters and discovers a wronged woman who gets the better of the one who wrongs her. Kat has often heard it said hers is the oldest profession in the world. Chapter 38 adds weight to the claim. It seems that back then, prostitution was considered normal. And they had some knowledge of contraception — not that the women had options. Kat warms to Tamar: the young widow is expected to wear widow’s weeds until her dear departed’s younger brother is old enough to marry her. Despite this being the law and the promise of her father-in-law, it isn’t honoured, so Tamar tarts herself up, hides her face under a veil, and seduces her father-in-law. More than that, the wily woman keeps his signet ring and staff as a bond, until he comes across with a kid from his flock as payment. When a servant is sent to pay the roadside prostitute she can’t be found. Three months later Tamar presents her pregnant self, ring, and staff to father-in-law.
“Very interesting!” she says to herself and also to Ben when she sees him next.
“Ben, I have to tell you this, you’ve made a difference in my life.”
Ben looks utterly stunned, as though he can’t recall ever having made a difference in anyone’s life.
“It’s because of something you said that I’ve started reading the Bible.”
Ben’s face reflects a rapid series of emotions, through delight, incredulity, suspicion, concern, to worry. “You haven’t got religion and been converted have you?”
Amber explodes into laughter. “Not at all,” she assures him. “I’m keeping the night job! You suggested I do religious studies at university, and I am. It’s fun and some of the Bible stories are very interesting.”
Ben is so touched by the disclosure that he works at thanking this wonderful, surprising woman. The climax surprises them both, and leaves Ben ecstatic to the point of immobility. Amber, fearing he may have had some sort of seizure, gets a wet cloth and sponges his brow until his breathing returns to normal.
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Jen thought she was conversant with the stories of Genesis. A lifetime of church-going should thus equip one. She is surprised by how much she has forgotten from her Sunday School and Bible Class days. No, not forgotten, she realises, we were never told the full story! And we certainly never viewed things through, what did Sarai say — ‘a feminine lens’. What is all this business of patriarchs passing their wives off as sisters? Three different stories! She had never heard even one of them. Women are commodities and it is safer for a visiting male to be a brother than a husband. The men always did well out of it. There is no consideration of how the women felt.
The ‘being barren’ thing is blown out of proportion. Why was having an heir such a big deal? Didn’t women have lives apart from children? All desperate to bear sons — didn’t some want daughters? And as for wives being so pressured they use their own servants as surrogate mothers! Jen thinks of her cleaning woman, Mabel, a plump and pleasant solo mum who vacuums and changes the sheets on Fridays. Jen couldn’t bear to put her off because she knows how important the few dollars are — raising teens on a benefit is not easy.
Servant women in patriarchal days had no control of anything, but the mistress of a settled household apparently had power over things domestic. Mabel dear, don’t change the sheets yet, I have another little task for you … Wilkin would hate her nicotine breath, scraggy hair, and surplus rolls. How did the surrogates feel about it? They were so vulnerable. Any child a surrogate gave birth to wasn’t regarded as hers unless the real wife had a child, then the surrogate’s child was disposable. She shudders at Sarah’s treatment of Hagar and Ishmael, and Abraham’s complicity. In sending them into the desert he was signing their death warrant.
Then there is this God/gods business. If the Hebrew people were convinced there was only one true God and no images should be made of this God, how come Laban had household gods? Laban was a Hebrew, a kinsman of Abraham! And why did Rachel want to steal her father’s God images? Jen feels she would like to talk these things through with Sarai. She feels a connection to Rachel. She has a sister who married young and popped out three children as easily as Leah popped out six. Her brother’s contribution raises the grandchild total to five. As a career woman children had not been on Jen’s agenda but she is well aware of her parent/sibling agenda. Not having children
is an elephant-sized unspoken issue that lumbers through family gatherings.
Jen’s family doesn’t get together all that often but poor Rachel lived with her extended family; had to play the barren aunt role every day! Rachel’s husband had many children. He didn’t need any more. The perceived need was Rachel’s. Then Jacob gives sudden secret orders that they are leaving the land of her parents. Rachel and Leah may never see their parents again and are not permitted to say goodbye. In the midst of this stressful shifting house — not house, household — Rachel gets her period.
Jen reflects on the links between her and the Bible woman. Thousands of years separate them but are they all that different at the core of their being? Jen’s lifestyle has undergone a big change and at this moment she has an unwanted period. Rachel was able to use her period to advantage and keep men at a distance. There were some advantages in ancient taboos! Rachel had been totally focused on having a child for years. Jen stopped work only three months ago. It’s early days, she comforts herself, knowing Wilkin’s feelings will be more difficult to deal with than her own.
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Wilkin is an achiever. He did well at school, academically, and on the sports field. Teachers liked his application and how he responded to positions of leadership. At university he kept his head down and achieved good marks. He despised idiots who got drunk and fooled around. He had no urge to do the great OE, not even a ‘gap year’. He graduated and was accepted as a junior consultant for Smith, Upson and Stopforth. He climbed steadily and barely paused at middle management; it was clear to everyone he was destined for the top job.
When Ralph Stopforth stepped down from the role of CEO, Wilkin was the obvious choice. Some thought young Fergus Stopforth might be groomed for the role, but Fergus had other plans — namely a dollop of Japanese culture, Spanish beaches, Swiss ski slopes, and the best cocaine Europe had to offer. Ralph funded everything because the boy had studied with dedicated intensity for six years. He had an MBA and one day he would be back. Ralph reinvented himself as chairman of the board, with Wilkin his ambitious lieutenant.
Wilkin was made for the job and SUS went from strength to strength under his leadership. He was invited to sit on various civic boards, he saw to it that various city councillors ate at his dinner table. It didn’t take him long to became a golfing buddy of the mayor. Sitting on a subcommittee of the Cathedral Chapter was an honour. When asked to chair the committee Wilkin considered it his Christian duty and civic privilege to accept. With SUS becoming a major sponsor of the Canterbury rugby team his local profile took a turn. Jen’s company handled the PR for the team and it was her account. With careful planning the pair managed themselves into the lounges and dining rooms of Canterbury’s most influential homes. Had Wilkin been interested in local governance he could have been elected to the city council any year he chose, but making money and driving the status of SUS was Wilkin’s passion. The only role he prized more was sitting on the University Council. Wilkin had been a committed student, though not an academic star. The university position was his confirmation that he had what it took to dominate every field he entered. Added to this, it gave him power to curb the liberal lunacy sneaking into the institution.
Wilkin understood it was important for young people to push the envelope but in his view it was equally important for the envelope to remain unmoved. The university was one of the last bastions of conservative role models for a secular society. The work the church was supposed to be doing was not reaching those who needed it. It was up to him to bring the church’s agenda to the university environment. Wilkin was pleased with his progress, as were some older members of the council. He had no qualms about bulldozing his puritan agenda into the natural liberalism of academia. He never doubted his God-given authority to drive a crusade. Some students protested his conservatism, but he was far too smart to become a victim of rainbow flag-wavers and boys in eyeliner. Plus he had the support of a talented wife in the city’s most influential PR company.
If Wilkin couldn’t win over the radical fringe and the true academics he could win over the heartland. He had the perfect carrot … rugby! Wilkin gave away tickets like Halloween candy. He arranged access to training sessions, meetings with celebrity players and invited influential students into his corporate box. He showed them the good life. The academics didn’t stand a chance against such tactics. Many of the students came from rural areas and their love of rugby was stronger than their desire to change the world. Immaculate, well spoken Wilkin was a master at winning the masses and Jen was a key component in his well oiled campaigns. Jen had the ear of every editor, radio programmer and media buyer in the South Island. She was at the top of her game and the media needed her content as much as she needed their reach. There was a classical symmetry to it all that was unstoppable. For five years Wilkin served the city, but in private Mr and Mrs Hawthorne joked that they owned it. Neither recognised the subtle indicators of doom.
Utopia is not enough for Wilkin; he is a driven man. In his eyes his team lack drive and motivation. His secretary nags him to lighten up. “Life isn’t only about work,” she insists, “small-talk oils office relationships. You need to relax more.” On the rare occasions Wilkin joins staff for a coffee break at work or a social drink afterward, the shallow chatter irritates. Those in their twenties are pathetically immature and the thirty-to-forties are obsessed with children and family life. Even his secretary carries photos of her grandchildren, two brown infants born out of wedlock to a teenage daughter. Has the woman no shame! How can he lighten up when his staff are so … casual. He has to do far more than he should, and, to add insult to injury, his achievements are not given the recognition they deserve.
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
4 — Sky Clad Sabbat
Friday, 27 February
Pauline’s coven is meeting to aid a young woman. The hairdresser and her partner have been trying for nearly three years and thus far pregnancy has eluded them. Pauline noticed the young woman on the riverside bench eating sandwiches and feeding scraps to the ducks. Pauline feeds the ducks after eating her own lunch too. The thin young woman appeared frequently and they had started acknowledging each other with a brief wave. One day the young woman’s posture indicated all was not well. Pauline decided a word or two would not be out of order. Brief conversations had grown to sharing fragments of their personal lives. (See map of Pauline’s property.)
Sitting on her sunny deck with her afternoon herbal tea, Pauline’s gaze moves to the pentacle permanently paved into the lawn. The feature seldom fails to gladden her heart. She so hopes tonight’s ritual will prove successful. Sarai’s words have made her apprehensive. “Just take care,” she had said. For a coven ritual the magic circle must be traced and redefined by wand or athame. Previously Pauline has used a wand, but last week she managed to buy a truly elegant athame. She had been looking forward to showing the trophy to her closest friend. Sarai would appreciate the bogwood handle decorated with the triple moon inset in silver. The crescents of the waxing and waning moon united with the full orb were beautifully crafted and reflected the gleam of the double-edged blade.
“You bought it on TradeMe!” The scathing words echo in Pauline’s mind. Sarai’s indignation lowered to righteous concern. “An athame should be either self-crafted or a gift. No good will come of this.”
Chastened, Pauline had replied, “It is a blunt athame. You know I wouldn’t work with a sharp one. Feel.”
Sarai pulled back from the proffered article. “If you must do this, do it properly, only the owner should handle an athame.”
The women had stared at each other, Pauline’s hazel eyes showing hurt, the blue eyes stony and superior. Sarai’s expression changed first. The hard lines softened. “If these things bring you pleasure, enjoy them,” she said, gathering the crestfallen Pauline into an embrace. “Just take care.”
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Jen is taking care. Since putting her career on hold she has decided Friday dinners at
home should be special. She surveys her table with satisfaction. Japanese place mats, chopsticks, and a sparse floral arrangement give an authentic air to her menu. Candles add a romantic touch, but are they a bit silly for this time of year? The bright sinking sun is turning the silver candlesticks to mirrors. Peering closely Jen can see a tiny Modigliani image of her golden hair and red lips. The wine is cooling in the ice bucket they bought in Adelaide, and black silk caresses her intimate parts. The shogayaki, Japanese ginger pork, and manju, Japanese steamed cakes, wait in the warmer. The cakes were fussy to make and Jen is so pleased with them she takes another look. Yes, they are a classy dessert. Dinner is scheduled for seven. It is five past seven according to the kitchen clock.
~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~
Amber checks her watch. It has been a long day of less than enjoyable sex. Not that she expects sex to be enjoyable; work is work, and it is not a bed of roses. But some days are better than this one.
Amber’s self-imposed standards bolster her belief that she is not a common working girl. She limits herself to three clients in a two-hour stint, the motel’s minimum booking, and no more than eight in a day. A session is 20 minutes but may go to 30 at her discretion.
Today she began at two with a new client who was intent on taking revenge on his cheating wife. When it came to the crunch he couldn’t perform. For a moment Kat thought he was going to cry but he resurrected anger from his hurt and left more angry than when he’d arrived. Mucky Murray and Dodgy Don didn’t usually come on the same day — thank God! — but both wanted afternoon appointments today. Friday Fred came and went as boring and un-communicative as he is every week between five and 20 past.
League of Lilith, The: A thriller with soul Page 4
