Surely at least I would be breaking its hold over me. I made myself wait while the ferry sailed into the middle of the river. A seagull swooped towards the rail and then, although I was alone on this side of the deck, veered away screeching a protest. I poised the icon between my hands on the rail, and thought the ripples spreading from the ferry had grown dauntingly elaborate. I avoided looking at them, but needed to find out who had crept up to breathe on the back of my neck—at least, they would have if they’d had any breath. Nobody was anywhere near, and I turned furiously to face the river. The boat was already heading for the opposite bank less than a quarter of a mile away, and I flung the icon with all my strength across the water.
As it fell it turned over in the air to smile upside down at me. It shattered a pattern of ripples with an explosion of foam, and dozens of birds flew up in unison along the miles of river. The icon sank under the surface, but only just, and I felt as though it had paralysed time. Was it about to wriggle into life and swim back to me? Until my chest began to throb, I was unaware of holding my breath. All at once the coiled black shape began to sink—I could have imagined it had changed whatever it might have for a mind—but it was dismayingly hard to be certain, because the further the icon descended, the more it appeared to expand. Some optical effect of the water didn’t merely magnify the icon, not least its eyes and its unalterable smile, but distorted it into a writhing shape that I was glad the ripples obscured. It took far too long to vanish into the depths, which it might have been infecting with its blackness. When the ripples faded from the surface I saw them following the shape down into the dark.
Screaming birds flocked above the miles of river, and when they eventually settled I was afraid to see them dragged beneath the surface by whatever presence I’d imagined I could drown. They stayed afloat while the ferry swung towards the terminal, renewing my view of Noble’s tower across the water. I could have fancied its reflection was reaching for me like a stubby snake with a swollen head. Certainly the reflection looked more immediate than its neighbours, unnaturally so. The impression faded, perhaps as the angle of the sunlight changed, but didn’t leave my mind. My last sight of the icon was lodged in there too, and I did my utmost not to think about the reality of which the icon might be the merest symbol.
10 - Trials
In the middle of the night an old phone wakened me. As I groped for consciousness I came close to dreaming that someone had rung me up from the past—that Lesley was calling to protect me from the vast gleeful dark. I couldn’t see its lipless smile, and managed to fend off any other sense of it as I groped for my mobile by the bed. The caller was unnamed, which felt like an unspecified threat. “Lo,” I mumbled before shutting off the vintage ringtone, and then “Hello.”
“I was his father before she was born.”
At once I was fully awake, and my head was throbbing hard enough to interrupt my thoughts. I flailed my free hand at the light-cord above the pillow and yanked it as if this might trigger more alertness. “S queues me,” I said and more distinctly “What did you say?”
“Weren’t you sufficiently awake to record us this time, Dominic? Shall we give you time to set us up?”
I was tempted to claim I’d done so, but couldn’t see how this would be useful. Despite the pounding in my skull and the nervous dryness of my mouth, I wanted to hear what might be said. “The phone doesn’t let me record calls.”
“So we can speak freely, can we? We would have in any case. Have you been congratulating yourself on your latest victory, Mr Sheldrake?”
However much I felt surrounded by a darkness that was at the very best unhelpful, I wasn’t about to be daunted by a phone call. “Let’s say I’m biding my time until I see what happens.”
“You have no idea, and that’s our promise.”
The whispers were intended to be menacing, I told myself. Every sibilance put me in mind of a snake, but I was more troubled by my inability to tell who was speaking, as if the Nobles had developed a single voice. “You continue to disappoint us,” it said, “you and your pair of friends.”
“They only did as I suggested.” With more bravado than I’d shown since my childhood I declared “I’m the man you should be after.”
“How important you must need to believe you are, Dominic. Have you made your life so empty that you can think of nobody but us?”
“I’m thinking of my family. They’re always in my mind.”
“We’d have hoped it would have grown beyond such things by now.”
“You seem pretty thoroughly bound up with yours.”
“We aren’t your kind of family. We aren’t your kind at all.”
“That’s the truth, thank God.”
I was hoping to provoke more confessions—although I was unable to record them, I could swear to them—but the voice whispered “So much contempt, and yet you’ve devoted your life to us.”
“You haven’t much time for me either, have you? So why are you making this call?”
“You’re a distraction, Dominic, and it amuses us to deal with you while we’re waiting.”
I wasn’t going to ask for what. I was more unsure than ever who was speaking, and imagined three faces clustered around a phone in the dark, so close together that their flesh was near to merging. I hadn’t spoken when the voice said “And we’re interested in the progress of every member of our church.”
“I was never one, and I’ve been told I’m not welcome any more.”
“Why, Dominic, you sound as if you feel cast out. There’s no need to distress yourself. Once you’ve participated you’re ours for life.”
“That’s what Toph told me after I joined in at Safe To Sleep. Maybe he’s talking to me now.” When this brought no admission I said “I don’t think you can make anyone belong to anything they don’t trust. You certainly can’t force them to believe.”
“You belong, Dominic. You have its emblem.”
“I’m afraid that’s at the bottom of the river.”
I heard a whispery giggle or else a chorus of them, sounding more childish or more senile than any of the Nobles ought to be. “We thought you might say something of the sort. Did you fancy you were lessening its influence?”
“There’s one less to do mischief, at any rate.”
“That’s not the way of it at all. It’s in your head to stay. It was only ever a symbol, a means of shaping your mind. How much longer are you likely to resist? Is it age that’s making you so stubborn?”
“If it is I’m glad to be old, and I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to be resisting.”
“Soon you will have. Meanwhile we look forward to seeing you again.”
I tried not to let this seem too threatening. “The next time you feel you have to phone me,” I said in the hope of finding out how to record, “I’d appreciate a more reasonable hour.”
This apparently merited another giggle. “Time you weren’t so concerned about time,” someone said, and then only static hissed in my ear.
I felt alone and desperate to talk to someone, not least because the Nobles had left me afraid of my own mind. Trying not to think about the icon or the mantra felt like having been compelled to do so, and I dreaded what this might be able to invoke. It wasn’t much past three in the morning, far too early to call anyone, and I could only search for memories sufficiently vivid to displace any other thoughts. I recalled letting my father believe I’d stolen Noble’s journal, and catching Jim and Bobby in the cinema, and missing Lesley on the night of our Shakespearian mistake. The emotions these and other painful recollections summoned did their best to occupy my mind, leaving little space for fear. At times I even managed to sleep.
I didn’t phone until I’d had a shower and then a coffee, all the breakfast I felt like swallowing. Jim’s number rang at such length that I was preparing to ask if not beg him to call me back when a voice said “Dominic.”
My name was presumably displayed onscreen, but the speaker wasn’t Jim. I tried not to
feel too nervous as I said “Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Dominic.”
For a moment I imagined that the conversation would continue multiplying echoes until it turned nightmarish—as if I were in more than one place, having been dislocated by the Nobles’ formula—and then I understood. “You’re Jim’s son.”
“And you’re meant to be his friend.”
“I hope I’m more than meant.” When silence met this I said “Can I speak to him?”
“He’s in the bath. He’ll be a while.” No more encouragingly Jim’s son said “What was it about?”
“Our friends the Nobles.”
“They’re no friends of his.” As I regretted using the word he said “Dominic Sheldrake about the Nobles.”
I could have thought he was dictating the information—some new system the police were using—until another man said “What about them now?
“I’m finding out, Rob.” Instead of doing so his brother said “Why did you have to involve our father, Mr Sheldrake?”
“I wanted somebody’s advice who knew about the law.” I would have preferred not to need to ask “Why, do you think I should have kept their secret?
“No, we think you should have brought it straight to the police.”
“The Nobles won’t know I didn’t, surely.”
“I’m afraid the truth may have got back to them. Some of our colleagues belong to their so-called church.”
In that case they must have learned the truth from one of Jim’s sons, which I might have pointed out if Dominic Bailey hadn’t added “So what did you want to say now?”
“They rang me at an ungodly hour this morning.”
“Who did?”
“The Nobles. The whole lot of them.”
Did they call the phone you’re using now? Have you had the number listed, Mr Sheldrake?”
“Call me Dominic, Dominic. Tell your brother he can too.” When my bid to render our talk less official brought no audible response I said “I’m not in the directory, but the Nobles have their methods.”
“Which do you think those are?”
“Maybe just asking my son. Or perhaps he put it on the database when I joined their church.”
“When did you do that, Dominic? And Rob’s asking why.”
“Just a few weeks back, to find out what they get up to. My son and his wife have involved my granddaughter. Maybe their beliefs have to be their choice, but they shouldn’t feed a child that kind of thing.”
“She’ll be taught our kind of faith at school, though, won’t she? I’d hope and pray she’d see that’s the truth.”
Jim’s sons must know even less about the workings of the Church of the Eternal Three than he did. Before I could enlighten them, if I had the energy for yet another try, Dominic said “Can you say why you’re saying they called you?”
“Their reasons, you mean.” When he let his question stay ambiguous I said “To taunt me.”
“With what exactly?”
“With how ineffective they think I am, or maybe they want me to think it. They were mocking me for not being able to record what they said.”
“Was that anything that could be used as evidence?”
“It most emphatically was. He admitted planning to abuse his daughter before she was even born.”
“You’d swear to that in court. Be aware you might have to, Dominic.”
His use of my name had begun to sound too much like a carer addressing a dotard. “I’ll swear to all the truth,” I declared.
“What did the others have to say about it? You said they were on the phone too.”
“Just more of their harassment, trying to remind me how powerful they’re supposed to be. The confession was part of that, and I’m certain Noble made it.”
“Why do you need to say that, Dominic? Why wouldn’t you be certain?”
“They were all keeping their voices down, but you can see it wouldn’t make any sense for anyone else to say what he did.”
“We shouldn’t really comment, but what are your thoughts, Rob?”
Across a room his brother said “I’d say Mr Sheldrake should think carefully about how he introduces that in court”
“Or even whether he should.”
Not least to feel less like an eavesdropper I said “Do we know when the case goes to court?”
“Today,” Dominic Bailey said. “About now.”
“That’s why they called me,” I realised aloud. “To intimidate me when they know I’ll be giving evidence.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Dominic. Today will be a hearing by a magistrate. They’ll decide if the case will go to jury trial.”
“Otherwise they’ll send the Nobles to prison themselves, you mean.”
“We can’t speak for the judiciary,” Rob Bailey said.
“But there’s no question the Nobles will end up behind bars.”
As I spoke I wondered how a prison could restrict their power—if it could do so at all. “The media will be reporting the decision,” Dominic said.
This sounded like a dismissal, which provoked me to ask “Has your father finished bathing yet?”
“He’d only just gone in when you called.”
“We’ll let him know you were in touch,” Rob said.
I gave them a goodbye to share and switched on the television in the front room, tuning to a news channel. A human bomb in a marketplace, an aggrieved father mowing down teachers and children with a machine gun, today’s threat of war, the latest species of primate to become extinct… Without any warning that I’d noticed, all three Nobles stared at me with defiance indistinguishable from contempt. They appeared to be posing for a battery of cameras on the steps outside a law court. A newsreader crowded their image aside and made it dwindle, but they gazed over her shoulder while she reported that Christian and Tina Noble had pleaded not guilty of any crime. A judge with a jury would try the case.
I should let Bobby know in case she hadn’t heard. As her phone rang I hoped it wouldn’t bring me Carole, since calling Jim’s had brought his son. It was Bobby who greeted me, adding “Are you in town?”
“Sadly I’m at home.”
“Be sure to let me know next time you’re down and we’ll celebrate old times. How are you faring on your own? No, I shouldn’t say that when you aren’t.”
I was dismayed to find that the Nobles and their interference with the dead had left me unsure of her meaning. “Who are you thinking of?”
“You still have your family, haven’t you? They seemed anxious to look after you. I hope they are, Dom.”
“They’re doing their best.” Rather than say how, I said “We may be meeting sooner than we realise. The Nobles are going to be tried by jury. I don’t know the date yet or the place.”
“So we’ll be called as witnesses.” With enough of a pause for a substantial thought Bobby said “Were you wanting to discuss what we should say?”
“I think we should just tell all the truth we know about the Nobles and their secrets.”
“I’m glad you said that. Dom. That’s what I was planning to do.”
“I hope Carole doesn’t blame me too much for involving you.”
“Carole, Dom wants to know if you’re holding him responsible for how I outed Christian Noble.”
“I’ll tell him myself.” Before I could take much of a breath, Carole’s voice ousted Bobby’s. “It isn’t your responsibility at all, Dominic Bob and I take full responsibility for everything we write.”
“You don’t mind that I sent her the recording in the first place.”
“It isn’t up to me to mind, but no, I don’t, I don’t mind anything that helps her deal with the only people who ever duped her to my knowledge.” As I hoped none of Carole’s fierceness was directed at me she said “Just make sure you give them as good in court as she will.”
In a moment Bobby was back. “I expect you’re reassured now, Dom.”
>
I couldn’t judge whether she was being ironic—whether she grasped how much more reassurance I would need. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything we’ll want to know,” I said. “Here’s to our next meeting even if it has to be that one.”
We said goodbye, and Carole called one out. I’d muted the television while I was on the phone, but I saw the Nobles once again aiming contempt at the world. When I turned up the volume the newsreader was repeating the report I’d already heard. I switched off the set—I didn’t care to watch the Nobles gazing at me over her shoulder, even though of course they couldn’t see me—and the phone rang at once.
I could easily have fancied that the Nobles were calling to establish that I couldn’t rid myself of them so easily, and then I saw Jim’s name. “Sorry I was wallowing,” he said.
“Did my namesake tell you about the call I had this morning?”
“Rob did. You should mention it to the prosecution. They’ll decide if it’s significant.”
“Surely you think it is.”
“It doesn’t matter what we think, Dom. I just wanted to update you on the trial.”
“I saw the news. They’ll be tried in the crown court.”
“We’ve just heard it’s going to be expedited with all speed. Christian Noble’s age is being given as the reason, but I wonder who’s pulling the strings. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear the date,” he said, and I could have thought the mantra of the Church of the Eternal Three had undermined my sense of time, because I was disconcerted by how soon he called again to say that the trial was set for next month.
11 - Versions of the Truth
“I swear that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing hut the truth, so help me God.”
Light shone through all the high wide windows of the courtroom, rebounding from the pale walls as though to leave untruth nowhere to hide. Bobby stood rigidly straight in the witness box with her hand resting on a Bible, and when I watched the video Carole had recorded on her partner’s behalf with the phone peeping out of her breast pocket, I wondered how much Bobby was putting on an act for the sake of conviction. “Please be seated,” Raymond Garland said for the prosecution, “and state your name for the record.”
The Way Of The Worm Page 13
