‘He …’
It all began to tumble forward, the rape, the cover-up, the desperate need to tell somebody, just to stay sane. She held it back all the same.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Siân said.
‘He trotted out the usual stuff about the dangers of deliverance being connected with yet another murder. Which is valid enough. But then he said the Duchy of Cornwall also wanted me to forget it. I rang the Duchy. He’d lied. Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know. He might simply have developed cold feet. Are you going to do what he says?’
‘Erm …’ Merrily sat back. ‘Siân, this might be a naive question, but if you were to expose Mervyn Neale as having used Masonic influence in the course of his executive work in the Diocese, how would that affect your chances of getting his job?’
‘That’s a very interesting point.’ Siân smiled, mouth only. ‘I imagine I could say goodbye to the job. Even if the Church wanted to make a point of distancing itself from Freemasonry, appointing me, in the wake of a scandal – even if it were only an internal one – might be seen as a step too far. It’s still a conservative organization.’
‘But you’d still do it, if you had the evidence?’
‘First and foremost, I’m a Christian,’ Siân said. ‘Of course I’d do it. Are you going along with what the Bishop wants?’
‘No.’
‘Then you’ll need support,’ Siân said. ‘Or you could, very soon, find you’ve become a very small footnote in ecclesiastical history.’
‘Huw Owen said much the same.’
‘Interesting.’ Siân looked at her watch, frowned and rose to her feet. ‘You trust him, don’t you?’
‘I used to trust the Bishop.’
‘It’s a slippery slope, Merrily. Letting trust slip away.’
‘You lose some, you … win some?’
‘Yes. I suppose you do.’ Siân picked up her bag, the kind of doctor’s bag that exorcists were often assumed to carry. ‘When we get outside, however. I’d really rather you didn’t hug me.’
Merrily smiled.
‘But get help,’ Siân said. ‘I implore you.’
44
The Morningwood Heritage
‘I’VE BEEN TELLING Jane about my car accident,’ Mrs Morningwood said, quite softly, looking at Merrily, ‘And how you came to my rescue.’
‘Mmm.’ Merrily frowned. ‘Sometimes people just happen to be in the right place at the right time.’
Jane and Mrs Morningwood were on the sofa, Roscoe stretched across both their knees, Ethel the cat watching warily from the edge of the hearth, where the fire glowed red and orange through a collapsing scaffold of coal and logs.
Merrily wondered how to get rid of Jane.
‘And other stuff,’ Jane said. ‘You thought much about the significance of the number nine, Mum?’
‘John Lennon always liked it. “Revolution Nine”, “Number Nine Dream”. Jane, I wonder if—’
‘In the Garway context. The Nine Witches of Garway. Why nine?’
‘It’s three squared. The trinity?’
‘And the sacred number of the Druids. But the point is, the number nine was also a sacred number of the Templars. When they first started out in Jerusalem, there were supposed to have been nine of them. Which, when you think about it, is ridiculous. Nine knights to protect all the pilgrims in the Holy Land?’
‘Maybe it was just the nine senior knights, with a lot of armed underlings.’
‘Nah, symbolic. Gotta be. Also – get this – nine Templars were required to form a commandery – like at Garway? Plus the order was in existence for 180 years, which, like … one plus eight equals nine.’
‘Sometimes, Jane, I think that without the internet the world would be a happier and less confusing place.’
‘OK, I’ll skip some of the other examples and cut to the chase. The burning of Jacques de Molay. He died on 18 March – one and eight? In the year 1314, one … three … one … four. Do the math, as they say.’
‘It’s intriguing, Jane, however—’
‘And how long did he take to die?’
‘Nine minutes?’
‘Hours, actually.’
‘Ouch. And all this means …?’
‘It’s to do with cosmic correspondences. As above, so below.’
‘You don’t actually know, do you?’
‘Well, no, but if you put it all together, it’s like the landscape and the community of Garway was being primed for some sacred purpose. The number and the symbols that keep recurring. The astrological pubs. You could probably go into the church and find the numbers nine – and three, of course – reflected in all kinds of architectural features. They were, like, building something into the landscape?’
‘Like?’
‘Just bear it in mind. Nine witches, nine original Templars … maybe you’re looking at the need for there always to be nine people in the know. Nine people preserving the tradition.’
Merrily said, ‘Have either of you eaten?’
‘We were waiting for you, Mum. Do you want me to make something?’
‘I know we’re trying to stop doing this, flower, but why don’t you pop over to the chip shop?’
‘It’s peak time! There’ll be a queue a mile long!’
‘Chips,’ Mrs Morningwood said. ‘Yes, I think I should quite like some chips.’
It was fully dark now. The light came from the fire and just one reading lamp. Quiet light. Merrily sat down in the armchair opposite Mrs Morningwood, who’d removed her sunglasses.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘I’m sore. What would you expect?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘But rested, thank you. I may go home tomorrow.’
‘We can talk about that later. Erm … I’ve been finding out some background. My friend Lol … has been to see Lord Stourport.’
‘Has he indeed?’
‘Which means I can now tell you quite a bit about the days before the police raid on the Master House. Only it’s … it’s a bit of a one-way street at the moment, isn’t it, Muriel?’
‘Don’t call me Muriel. Hate it. Sounds like a bloody librarian.’
‘I’ve had some background on you, too,’ Merrily said. ‘Hard to avoid it really.’
Mrs Morningwood shook her head gently; even this was clearly painful.
‘Just been talking to an old friend of mine,’ Merrily said.
‘In a community this centralized, Watkins, it would be surprising if you hadn’t.’
‘We didn’t talk much about you. But we could have.’
‘Who was this?’ Mrs Morningwood’s gaze was on the sweatshirt. ‘As if I couldn’t guess.’
‘This friend … I think he knows a lot more about you than he felt able to tell me.’
‘So go back and ask him.’
‘You don’t think he’d tell me?’
‘You can try.’
‘And, you know, I think I could probably persuade him.’
‘To tell you what? You think there’s some big secret? I’m the Pope’s secret love-child?’
‘The thing is,’ Merrily said, ‘I don’t want him to have to tell me. I don’t want him to feel he’s betrayed you.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t think you do either.’
‘Although I do think he would tell me. I’m just trying to convey to you that I’m …’ Merrily held up a thumb and finger, minimally apart ‘… that close.’
‘Watkins … this is not about betraying me.’
‘The first time we met, you took a phone call from a Mr … Hinton?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘You were obtaining something for him. At first – putting this together from what I heard – I thought maybe you were fixing up Thai brides for lonely farmers. Doing the paperwork.’