To Dream of the Dead

didn’t surprise me because I know the provenance of this church, and it’s not healthy. And I think that was genuine, the mail — they showed me an example. I mean the odd thing is that she came to tell me about it, ask if I could do anything about Shirley. Which struck me as strange because she didn’t know then that I knew they were the Stookes, not the Wintersons.’

‘Looks like she wanted you to know, Merrily. Know who they were and know about the threats. No better witness than the vicar, if anything was to happen to Stooke.’

‘You actually…’ Merrily pressing one hand over the other to stop both of them shaking. ‘You think that’s why they came here? For Stooke to be killed?’

‘I don’t know. We may never know, unless one of them talks. Whether it was long-term planning or whether she just wanted to come here to snatch some precious moments with the current love of her life…’

Jane said, ‘Blore has a caravan on the site. Gregory told us about all the students he—’

‘That’s another thing,’ Merrily said. ‘He still has a room at the Swan, doesn’t he? Why didn’t they just go up there if they couldn’t wait? One flight of stairs? I mean, the ladies loo?’

Bliss had a little smile forming.

‘Think about it. Let’s go from the premise that they know Stooke’s going to be done tonight. I’m thinking aloud here, Merrily, I’m thinking Stooke’s gone out there, into the flooded village… and our man’s out there already. Primed and paid. Glyn, his name is. We know who he is, we know his history. Glyn is out there.’

‘Now?’

‘Oh yeh. Somewhere. So here they are in Laurence’s gig, and Mrs Stooke’s suddenly realising Mr Stooke may not be coming back. Gorra be a sobering moment. This is it. Mr Stooke may soon be no more. Whatever kind of cold bitch she is, Blore sees that Mrs Stooke is rapidly turning into someone who people might soon be staring at. What’s the lighting like in there?’

‘Well, it’s not an auditorium, Frannie, it’s a pub. Yes, you could see everybody quite well.’

‘He needs to get her out of there, calm her down, make her laugh, take her mind off it. Do something a little outrageous, a little… dare I say off the wall?’

Jane laughed, but it was a shocked laugh, a frightened laugh. The pipes expelled the lowering, slightly sinister opening chords of ‘While Shepherds Watched’.

Bliss said, ‘Jane, who’s Gregory?’

‘He’s the security guy.’

‘Where?’

‘The security man on the site. He’s done other jobs with Blore. They’re kind of mates.’

‘The security man. How old?’

‘I don’t know. Early twenties?’

‘Gregory,’ Bliss said diffidently. ‘And his last name is…?’

Jane thought for a couple of seconds then shook her head.

‘Don’t know. Why don’t you…?’

‘Ask him? How could I do that, Jane?’

‘I saw him earlier. I was at… in the churchyard. He came over. He was pretty well… Oh God…’

‘What?’

‘Wet,’ Jane said. ‘Like really wet? Head to toe?’

Merrily moved closer to Jane. She was aware of Lol standing with Eirion in the entrance to the porch, under the lantern. The congregation sang, ‘Fear not, said he, for mighty dread…’

‘Where did he go, Jane?’ Bliss said.

‘I don’t know. He was pretty hacked off. Not like the last couple of times I saw him — cocky, Jack-the-lad, you know? He was really angry. Going on about how he hated it here, and the countryside generally. He was asking where Blore was — he said Blore had the keys to his caravan. I assumed he wanted to get some dry clothes?’

‘Angry at Blore?’

‘Yeah. That’s the impression I got.’

‘Coleman’s Meadow, this caravan? Thanks, Jane,’ Bliss said. ‘I’ve said a few uncomplimentary things about you. Just occasionally. I take them back. You’re not a bad kid.’

‘I’m not a kid.’

‘Sorry, eighteen, I forgot. Welcome to the shit end of life.’

Bliss went out into the graveyard, full of moving shadows.

‘Terry, I need foot soldiers!’

Then he came back, pressed something into Merrily’s hands.

‘Wow,’ she said, ‘you remembered.’

From a pocket of his camouflage jacket, Bliss also brought out a book of matches.

‘Do us a favour, Merrily. Explain to your congregation why we’re not letting anyone over the footbridge just yet. Tell them it’s for their own safety, yeh?’

She nodded, and he moved away into the shadows of graves and men, and Merrily walked out into the damp night, tearing off the cellophane with her teeth, shaking out a Silk Cut, igniting a match and cupping a hand around the flame. Jane was sticking close to her, Lol on the other side, Eirion following.

‘Gregory?’ Jane said. ‘I don’t understand? What’s Gregory done?’

‘Apart from cover up for Blore,’ Eirion said. ‘He was telling us about all the women students Blore took into his caravan.’

‘Perhaps just one woman and not a stud—’ Merrily took in too much smoke, gave in to the coughing, hugged a stone cross until it was over. ‘It was very convenient, wasn’t it. Just popping out for a walk, darling. Get a few pictures.’

‘She was taking Blore’s picture on Saturday,’ Jane said. ‘And I was just thinking… that first morning I met her… when she said she’d been out with her camera? It would explain her… the way she was. Like she’d just… I don’t know.’

‘I’m going back now, guys.’ Merrily squeezed out her cigarette, half-smoked, slipped it into a pocket of her jeans; it was enough. ‘Stay together.’

She patted her hair, took a deep breath of cold night air and walked back through the porch into the nave.

The carols were over, the congregation had fragmented and conversations had broken out like small bush fires, people leaning over to talk to friends in the pews behind. Nobody in a hurry to leave.

Edna Huws was waiting by the lectern with Uncle Ted, senior churchwarden.

‘Is it settled?’ Miss Huws said, stiff-backed.

‘It’s… no, it isn’t really.’

Ted said, ‘Have you any idea what time it is?’ Gesturing into the nave. ‘What are you going to do about all this?’

‘Finish the service.’ She smiled weakly. ‘Happy Christmas, Uncle Ted.’

Ted scowled. The nave was untidy with noise, like an airport lounge. No alternative but to become a real priest. She walked down to where the still-unlit Christmas tree stood forlorn, in front of the chancel, a couple of paces from the pulpit.

Bent and plugged it in. It came instantly alive, all the lights working. A small, determined glow at the centre of the orb.

The chat faded as she started to walk back to her old spot on the chancel steps, then she changed her mind and crossed to the pulpit, the big old play fort, and went up the wooden steps and placed her hands either side, too low down as usual.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘This has been…’

Feeling around with her feet for something to stand on, encountering something that shouldn’t be there and looking down to find Shirley West smiling up at her from the dark oaken well of the pulpit, eyes wide open to the Endtime.

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