Merrily stood and approached the altar. The stained-glass windows were coming alive with the dawn. She spoke the last verse of the Breastplate, the address to Jesus.
‘Let me not run from the love that you offer
But hold me safe from the forces of evil.
On each of my dyings shed your light and your love.
Keep calling me until that day comes
When with your saints I may praise you for ever.
Amen.’
Merrily walked, blinking, out of the church. It was going to be a cold, bright, hard day.
When she got home, Jane had breakfast ready. The radio was turned to 5 Live, the news station.
‘Mum, they’ve just trailed a report from Old Hindwell. It’s coming up within the next ten minutes. That was about five minutes ago.’
‘Better turn it up then.’
‘And...’ Jane cleared her throat, ‘there’s some stuff I need to tell you.’
‘Any chance it could wait? It’s just I seem to have got more to think about than at any time since my A levels.’
‘No,’ Jane said, ‘it can’t wait. It’s about a Web site, called Kali Three. Kali as in the goddess of death and destruction?’
‘Not one of ours.’ Merrily helped herself to a slice of toast. She was thinking about how best to approach Marianne Starkey. Marianne was crucial now, if Merrily was going to restrain Ellis. ‘Not even one of Betty’s.’
‘Are you listening?’
‘Sure. Sorry.’
‘There’s this obscure Web site. A really heavy occult thing. A kind of like a hit list of people who are considered a threat to the, er... to, like, the expansion of human consciousness through magic, that kind of thing. Anyway, you’re included on it.’
‘You’re kidding! Still... shows I must’ve got something right.’
Jane said, ‘Sometimes you just make me sick, you know that?’
Merrily put down her toast. ‘Jane, any other time I might be mildly affronted to think a bunch of loonies had put out a fatwa on me on the Internet, but right now... hold on, turn it up.’
Jane angrily turned up the radio far too loud. A woman said, ‘... remote Welsh border village of Old Hindwell, where the local rector has declared holy war on a community of witches occupying a one-time parish church. In Old Hindwell is our reporter, Tim Francis. Tim, what’s happening there?’
‘Well, not too much at the moment, Melissa, but I suspect this is merely the calm before the storm, because tonight is when the witches are proposing to actually reconsecrate this former Christian church to their own gods. Tonight is, in fact, the pagan festival known as Imbolc – I think I pronounced that right – which is apparently the first really important witches’ sabbath of the year.’
‘Gosh, that sounds rather sinister.’
‘Well, apparently it commemorates the start of the Celtic spring, which is not terribly sinister... However... what is seen by the rector, Nick Ellis, as a provocative gesture is the witches’ intention to celebrate that festival tonight inside the former St Michael’s Church, which in effect will make it into a pagan temple again.’
‘And are they going to dance in the nude, Tim?’
‘God,’ said Jane, ‘this woman is so sad.’
‘I would say that is, um, a strong possibility. Now, last night we saw the new owner of the church, Robin Thorogood, clearly trying to calm down the situation when he confronted Nick Ellis here at the entrance to his farm, also leading to the church.’
Clip of Robin Thorogood over rain: ‘We never touched your lousy church. There’s no dragon here, no Satan. So just... just, like, go back and tell your God we won’t hold you or your crazy stuff against him.’
Tim said, ‘However, Melissa, last night’s placatory attitude was to be short-lived. We believe about a dozen witches are now residing at the farm here, and their leader, the latest to arrive, is a former official of the British Pagan Federation and an outspoken proponent of pagan religion. That’s Ned Bain...’
Jane gasped.
‘... who joins me now. Ned Bain, the impression we all get is that you’re raising the stakes here. The very fact that you, a leading pagan activist, have come all the way from London—’
‘I think, Tim, that the stakes have already been raised enormously by Nicholas Ellis. He’s a driven man, a fanatic, who’s made life hell for two people who just wanted to be left alone to practise their religion.’
‘In a Christian church.’
‘In an abandoned church built on a site of ancient worship. Nicholas Ellis made the preposterous suggestion last night that he and his cronies should be allowed access to the site to carry out what amounts to an exorcism. Well, let’s not forget this land now belongs to Betty and Robin Thorogood. They’ve been faced with an army of militant Christians who’ve promised to turn up in even greater numbers. We’re here to support the Thorogoods.’
‘And you’ll be welcoming the Celtic spring with them tonight.’
‘Indeed.’
‘At the church itself?’
‘At a site of established ancient sanctity.’
‘And how many of you will be involved in that?’
‘A full coven. Thirteen members.’
Melissa said from the studio, ‘Ned, you going to be dancing in the nude?’
‘We shall probably be skyclad, yes, unless the weather is particularly inclement.’
‘You’ll be freezing!’
‘Melissa, our beliefs will keep us warm.’
‘Well, rather you than me. Thank you, Ned Bain, and Tim Francis. And we’ll keep you up to date with whatever happens. Now, here on 5 Live...’
Jane switched off. When she turned round, her face had darkened.
‘They’re not taking any of it seriously.’
‘Vicars and witches? What did you expect?’
‘How can you sit there and—’
‘Because I’m used to it. It’s a secular society and we’ve become a quaint anachronism. Of course they’re not taking it seriously.’ Unfortunately, they would do soon, if it came out that the police had interviewed Betty regarding Mrs Wilshire.
Jane pulled out a chair and sat down directly opposite Merrily. ‘You have got to listen to me, do you understand?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Ned Bain—’
‘He’s a smooth operator. A clever man.’
‘It goes deeper. Up in the gallery, at Livenight, we found the researcher already knew all about you and Dad and how Dad died and where it happened and everything, and he told Irene he got that information from Ned Bain, and it’s all there on the Kali Three Web site with suggestions that you should be regarded as an enemy, like, by pagans and occultists everywhere.’
‘How do you know all that?’ The kid had her full attention now.
‘Because Irene spoke to Gerry, the researcher, afterwards.’
‘About your dad? They had all that?’
For an awful moment, she was back in that stifling, oppressive studio, dry-mouthed, with Bain lazily
