by Guy Sheppard
‘And yet they don’t lie in this or any other church in the vicinity of the castle?’
‘They do not, reverend.’
‘How come?’
‘Long ago, somebody did a very bad thing to us.’
‘So where do they rest now?’
Sabrina’s look met his and there floated in her pupils more faces whose bloodless, bloated lips struggled to call out to him.
He shook his head. Just recently his swimming brain had begun to play cruel tricks on him and this was another?
‘Rest?’ said Sabrina harshly. ‘You speak as if you would have us lie up like some ship or other when for many of us the voyage never ends. But then, what does a priest really know about eternity, anyway? Would you even dare to set sail?’
Her odd, archaic turn of phrase was so vehemently delivered that Luke was at a loss to explain why she also grinned at him. Her look had something vengeful in it. He felt a distinctly awkward desire to give her a smile, too, but of a different sort. He could only say that in no way was she joking.
‘I’m not entirely sure I understand what you mean?’
‘There comes a time when the dead should be raised from their graves, judged and consigned to their fate once and for all, don’t you think reverend?’
‘Are you making some kind of threat?’
‘Do I really have to say it?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Eva Greene has told me about the unexpected resurfacing of your grandfather’s pocket watch. Did you bring it with you as promised?’
‘Hey, slow down. Anyone could have stolen that watch before he vanished. Its significance remains unknown.’
‘I may have a solution.’
‘Solution?’
‘We should combine forces to give us what we most want?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Justice.’
His jaw dropped. Was not that the very word he himself had thought to invoke when last talking to Ellie? Sabrina could have been reading his blackest, most grievous thoughts.
Before the chancel he saw her do a slow twirl. Drawn by he knew not what compulsion, she danced below the Doom like a bride practising her waltz down the aisle.
Except her face exuded in its joy all the siren call, grace and beauty of one of the light stepping daughters of Oceanus.
‘I’m not sure what you mean by justice. I’m a man of God now, not the vicious thug I grew up to be.’
‘Come, come reverend, wouldn’t you willingly trade everything you believe in for one last chance to put things right?’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
At which point there came a little jingle. A door from a spiral staircase to the north of the west window opened on to a stone platform that had the faces of lady, knight and priest carved on the steps just below it.
It was Dicky Pearce.
‘Sabrina means we have something to offer not threaten you, reverend.’
On closer examination Luke recognised Eva Greene, come to keep her rendezvous with him after all.
‘What do you know about it? You agreed to conduct some research into my family, but instead you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Obviously you can’t help me.’
‘Yeah, I think I can, reverend.’
‘How’s that?’
‘For a start you and I are related.’
‘That’s madness.’
Eva looked out from what might once have been a pulpit even as she and Sabrina exchanged knowing glances.
‘Say what you like but you and I share a big secret.’
‘I doubt that very much.’
‘Actually we’re sort of brother and sister.’
‘Why are you telling me this nonsense? What’s in it for you?’
‘That’s for free.’
‘What makes you think I’ll believe you?’
‘Hope you’re ready for this, reverend?’ said Eva firmly. ‘Then I’ll begin. My grandmother was called Olivia. She was very posh and well-connected but also very wild, which is why her secret love for a handsome Irish scrap dealer called Sean Lyons was such a disaster in terms of her social class. But she and Sean did marry – in 1939, to be exact, when she was just eighteen. The London Blitz drove them apart, I guess. Many a young couple had their nerves shattered during the Second World War by all the bombing. We can say that at least. According to lots of letters I inherited, Olivia and Sean separated after a few years but never divorced. Divorce in those days was never easy anyway. Sean didn’t know it but Olivia was pregnant with his daughter Sara. Soon afterwards he bigamously married your grandmother Gwendolen. By then Sara was already growing up elsewhere to be a great beauty and, somewhat reconciled to her mother’s former friends, she ignored her advice and recklessly married the much older Lord Henry Greene of Wiltshire. She did it for his money.’
‘Not my call.’
‘Oh, but it is, reverend. One night your father Rex Lyons broke into Lady Greene’s Wiltshire home deep in the countryside. He shot and mortally wounded her on the night of his last, botched burglary. Sara gave birth to a child by emergency C-section before she passed away in Gloucester Hospital. Her husband died of a heart attack shortly afterwards. He was seventy. That baby torn from her womb was me, reverend. As a result I was brought up an orphan.’
‘You put those two letters through my door.’
‘When I began to dig into the circumstances of my birth I came across correspondence between Sean Lyons and my grandmother in the attic of our country house, since sold. It shows that he staged his disappearance in 1960 in order to leave Gwendolen and go back to Olivia. She never stopped loving him.’
Luke neither accepted nor refuted the allegation, but struggled to catch his breath in a heave of sore ribs.
‘How long have you known this?’
‘Fact is, our grandfather lived in Scotland and then in London until 1981. That pocket watch you promised to bring me today will confirm everything. Can I see it?’
‘Some other time.’
‘That’s funny.’
‘What now? What do you want?’
Eva rattled her bells.
‘Like I said, I want justice. This is not a joke.’
‘Do you know how difficult it is for me to understand a thing you’re saying?’
‘Then I’ll be clear, reverend. Your fucking family robbed mine blind. Your father murdered my mother and, in most people’s eyes, my father, too. Rex Lyons and his gang took my family heirlooms worth millions. I want them back. You’re going to get them for me, not least because you and I share the same bad blood.’
He winced and turned to appeal to Sabrina. Something silver and serpentine writhed in the lobe of one ear beneath her red mane.
‘No, absolutely bloody not.’
She circled him on the cold stone floor.
‘Relax reverend. Eva has a point. You want to do the right thing and return the stolen loot to its lawful owner, don’t you? Consider this, then, an offer. What can we do to help you make the honest, Christian decision?’
‘Prove to me that I can trust you.’
‘How can we do that?’
‘There is one thing.’
‘Do tell, reverend.’
‘I want you to help me get rid of someone’s body.’
‘What body? Whose?’
‘Mine.’
Sabrina’s face darkened. For a moment she played with her necklace of priceless saltwater pearls. Then Eva spoke for them both from the pulpit.
‘No way! Are you mad? That’s a step too far.’
‘And if I can do as you ask and make you as rich as Croesus?’
‘Now you’re talking.’
48
‘Almost too beautiful to be true, isn’t it?’ said Luke, as bright sunshine lit the Severn. ‘Make the most of it while you can.’
Sasha sat on the seawall with her nose in the air and sniffed the view. She didn’t respond when he called her name again, but gazed at the incoming tide intently as tho
ugh she were also listening to its currents and gulls. Like him she was happier out here in wide open spaces. Together they watched a noisy bird hitch a ride on a log to go with the flow.
Suddenly she gave a bark not just at the gull but at a motorboat that wove its way along the river’s snakelike channel between mud and shingle.
It could have been an Environment Agency launch or even a craft belonging to Severn Trent Water Company.
That he was the object of their rude attention was obvious, thought Luke, but he had the advantage: this side of Hayward Rock the sun had to be in the eyes of the two-man crew.
As the craft slowed the sunlight glinted on someone’s binoculars.
Suddenly the mood of the river changed. Now it was less picturesque than slightly malevolent. Both men on board the motorboat were anxious to let him know that they were observing his regular morning walk along the riverbank as usual.
Not Environment Agency or water company, then.
He gave them a wave and the boat’s engine roared back into action. A bullet-headed man raised a muddy spade in what amounted to a challenge.
Luke knew who he was, but he need not have bothered. That went for the other crew member, too. Clearly their digging had so far proved no more rewarding than his own?
Next minute his phone rang.
‘Yes, Ellie?’
‘Listen to me, Luke. Something bad has happened.’
The voice in his ear was puffing and blowing.
‘Relax. What’s with you?’
‘It’s grandma, stupid.’
‘What about her?’
‘She walked out of Severnside House at dawn this morning.’
‘Honestly? Where is she now? Have they found her yet?’
‘Thank God, she’s back home.’
‘Where did she go?’
‘To the river.’
‘Why there?’
‘She won’t say.’
‘Doesn’t anyone know anything?’
‘She’s very confused. As far as I can tell she found the gate open in the care home’s gardens and kept going.’
He swore.
‘Shouldn’t the grounds be locked at night?’
‘It’s not a prison.’
‘Good luck with that!’
‘If you’d been a proper grandson to her, you’d know.’
‘I really wouldn’t.’
‘Listen to me, Luke, why do you think I put her into care in the first place? You left me to make the decision, remember, so don’t complain now. This isn’t exactly new. Last Christmas Eve she wandered off to the old hospital in Berkeley. It’s been closed for years, but she was convinced that you had an appointment there to see a doctor. It must have been some old memory of hers because she was behaving as if she were back in the 1980s or 90s.’
‘Isn’t she always?’
‘She had to take you to hospital on account of some blood down your legs…’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘You remember?’
‘I was nine at the time.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘Why go to the river, is all that matters?’
‘Please, Luke, don’t blame the matron.’
‘On the contrary I need to speak to her right now.’
*
When Luke arrived in Severnside House Gwendolen stood as stiff as a sentry at the big glass doors of the dayroom. She stared at something in the extensive gardens beyond.
He paused before going any further. Didn’t want to startle her.
‘How is she?’
Matron referred to the watch pinned to her blue uniform.
‘So far it’s been two hours.’
‘Has she explained why she went to the water, at all?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Who’s that with her, with the pink hair?’
‘That’s her best friend. That’s Barbara Jennings.’
It was not until Luke crossed the room that he heard what they were saying.
‘Seriously, Gwendolen, no one expects you to remember anything on account of your Alzheimer’s.’
‘But Barbara, he’s in the river.’
‘Shut up, you fool. Do you want to damn us all? Don’t let them put words into your mouth.’
‘How can I?’
‘You forget.’
‘Forget what exactly?’ said Luke.
Barbara turned her head sharply and paled. She thrust her chin at him. Stiffened her shoulders. Glared. Her eyes were venomous between their rapid blinks, her teeth were clenched behind her bright red and partly open lips. Next moment she took a long, loud breath through her nose to vent her outrage.
A NO TO NUCLEAR badge was pinned to her collar.
‘Reverend Lyons, I literally can’t imagine why you are here?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Thanks to you there seems to be some confusion over poor Gwendolen’s home. By that, I mean Chapel Cottage.’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Oh, but it is. Gwendolen and I are like sisters. We grew up together. We went to the same school. How can you sell something that is not yours to sell? And you seemed so nice when you moved into our parish in the spring! We all had such high hopes of you. Such fiery sermons!’
‘So, can you please tell me what’s going on here?’
Barbara kept hold of Gwendolen’s waist. She pulled her close until they were joined at the hip.
‘We all know who our real friends are round here, reverend.’
‘Yeah, I see that.’
‘I’m really disappointed in you. I thought you’d come home to do us some good.’
‘I thought that, too. Now please leave us alone.’
Barbara blushed and withdrew her arm from Gwendolen’s waist. Then she looked round for her coat.
‘You won’t get away with this, reverend. Who gave you the right to make trouble in Berkeley? I mean, should you even be here? I remember you as an angelic child. Your grandmother did such a good job raising you, given that your own parents were in prison. Then, when you turned ten you became a monster. Why is that, by the way?’
‘I really don’t have time for this.’
‘By twelve you were drinking alcohol and taking drugs. Your behaviour became violent and unpredictable. Suddenly you wouldn’t talk to any adult. In short, you made Gwendolen’s life a complete misery from then on.’
‘That’s why you reported me to the police so often, is it?’
‘Fat lot of good it did you! Next thing I heard you were in some teenage gang in London where you’d decided to take after your father. Gwendolen loved you, Luke, but you threw it all back in her face. And here you are again, trying to ruin her life by selling her home behind her back. You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘You leaving now, or what?’
Barbara gave Gwendolen one last hug.
‘Don’t listen to him, my dear. Just because he’s wearing a clerical collar doesn’t mean he isn’t the same old Luke underneath. He’s not to be trusted, but he’s powerless to do anything without your say-so.’
Luke handed Barbara her walking stick.
‘What’s the delay?’
Barbara held up her head. Limped off.
She paused at the dayroom’s door to wave her stick in the air.
‘Don’t let anyone make a big, unnecessary splash, Gwendolen, don’t let them stir up old times.’
She emphasised each syllable in a way that bordered on menace.
Gwendolen did not respond, but appeared to lose track of what was happening. The urgent, panicky desire to keep vigil at the glass doors took precedence.
Luke took her by the arm to break the silence.
‘Gran? You seem restless and worried. Is this really about Chapel Cottage or something else?’
‘Don’t leave me. Don’t go back to the river.’
‘Stay calm.’
‘I said don’t go back. You don’t belong in such cold, dark water.�
�
‘Who doesn’t?’
‘I’ve told you a thousand times, she can’t have you. You’re mine.’
Luke had to listen hard to decipher all she said.
‘Who are you talking to, gran? Who can you see in the glass? Is it Sean?’
‘Do you honestly think I’ll let you get away with this? Impossible. You’ve done a very bad thing. Right? Right. And me? What about my feelings, have you thought of that?’
Fearing that she might yet try to break the sliding doors with the palms of both hands, he did his best to draw her safely away.
‘Come and sit down, gran. Please. In your chair.’
Gwendolen’s cheeks paled and her face crumpled. Her lips trembled. Her voice broke as high as a child’s with indignation.
‘Think you can do better than me, do you? Listen to me, you bastard, that London bitch will get what’s coming to her. Whatever it takes, Sean Lyons. Fuck her brat, too. Frankly, I don’t care. Ironic, huh? Fact is, you want to use our son’s stolen treasure to fund your new life with her. Do you? I can’t even bring myself to speak her name. Just because she has rich friends you think she’s better than me? You think you can waltz back into our lives after twenty-one years just because you went to see Rex in prison behind my back? Your own son might forgive your absence but I don’t. So what, if he has given you the key to a few stolen antiques! Doesn’t mean you have the right to use it to buy my silence. You touch one ruby or snuffbox from that hoard and, so help me God, I’ll tell the world. What does that silly brass key of yours open, anyway? Pandora’s box? I thought so.’
The dark and stormy memory was able to replay itself in her head, because to her, at that minute, he was the illusive likeness of her absent husband.
‘You don’t want to believe everything you see. Trust me, gran. It’s the effect of all the pills you’re taking. Sit down. Let us pray together.’
‘Don’t you realise what I’ve suffered? I thought you were dead. How can you do this to me? And all for her? Now you tell me she has a daughter called Sara. Your daughter. How do you think that makes me feel? Have you ever cared about me, at all? You married me, for Christ’s sake. And all the time you were married to her. Does she even know about me? About Rex? About Luke and Ellie? You say now that you want to keep in touch for the sake of the grandchildren, but really you want to take baby Luke away from me, don’t you? You’ve agreed this with Rex, you say? But you’re ‘dead’, remember. You’re a ghost in this world now. You really think you can do better than me when it comes to raising your newly born grandson? That so? But what about me, what about my love for my grandchild? For you? I’ve grieved for you thinking you died a hero.’
