You want to do it because it makes you feel good.'
'Fuck you!'
'I loved my father!' The tears seared down Ruth's cheeks.
'You hated him. He dominated you from when you were young. He forced you into a career you didn't want to do-'
'He didn't force me! I did it because I wanted to make him happy! So it was the wrong career for me. It's not Dad's fault. He didn't-'
'What? He didn't know his own daughter? No, he was a typical working class bloke who wanted a bit of respectability for his family. A lawyer! That'd be something to tell them all down at the union meetings and in the labour club. His daughter had worked hard and made something of herself, despite starting with nothing. And he didn't care a thing about what you wanted-'
'That's not true! Dad didn't think like that!' The next few lines out of the mirror were drowned out by Ruth's racking sobs. She had not felt so raw since the day her father had dropped dead of a heart attack, in that fleeting moment when she thought time had stopped and the whole world was coming to an end. Somehow the magic surrounding the mirror had pushed all the right buttons to bring the emotions rushing out of her.
'He knew you were unhappy in your work. That's what killed him.'
'Not true! It was the shock of Uncle Jim's murder-'
The mirror went milky and when it cleared Ruth was looking on the interior of a building society. A tall man with greying hair and a pleasant face that was locked in anxiety stared out at her; he looked remarkably like her father.
'That's Uncle Jim,' she said curiously. Suddenly she realised what was coming next. 'Oh no-'
The blast of a gun made her jump with shock. Her uncle was flung back against the counter, clutching at his stomach as a large red patch began to spread across his sweater.
'Oh, Uncle Jim-'
Somebody ran forward to inspect the body. He was cursing and waving his gun at Uncle Jim, as if he had done something to provoke his own murder. Ruth was transfixed in horror. The killer had on a mask, but Ruth recognised the shape of his muscular body, the long hair that flapped around as he shook his head wildly, in anger it seemed. But most of all she recognised the garish tattoo she could see snaking out from under his sleeve.
'That's the man Church brought with him.' Even as she said it Ruth couldn't believe it; but it was true. 'That's Veitch.'
Church stared impassively at the scene of Marianne lying on the floor, her skin so pale she looked like a statue. 'You're wasting your time,' he said coldly. 'I've lived with that image for so long now I'm immune to it. When I thought I was responsible … when I thought I was some kind of terrible person who could live with someone yet be so self-centred they had no idea of the torment their partner was going through … then it might have hurt me. But now I know she was murdered.'
'You're still responsible,' his voice said as the image faded and his dark, bitter reflection returned. At first he had thought it resembled him exactly; it seemed just like the face he had seen in the mirror so many times over the last two years. But now he wasn't so sure. It didn't feel like him. He felt better than that; and that thought surprised him.
'How can that be? Someone else killed her and pretty soon, with any luck, I'm going to find out who did it. That was the promise made to me, and that's the only thing driving me forward. You see, I'm going to die soon. I've seen my own death. Can you believe that? So nothing else matters, apart from finding out what happened to Marianne and getting some kind of peace before the end. Some might call it fatalistic. But if it's going to happen it's going to happenyou've just got to make the best of it. That's a big lesson I've learned recently. It's the quality of the life up to the big peg-out that matters.' The reflection went to speak, but Church wouldn't let it. 'Shut up. And here's something that has to be said, just for the sake of getting it out in the open, really. Once I find out who killed Marianne, if I get the chance before I die myself, I'm going to take the bastard with me. That's a promise.'
The reflection opened its mouth once more, but Church had had enough. He turned his back on it and prepared to return to the maze in search of the way to the talisman. And as he did so there was a sudden shattering as shards of the big ornate mirror exploded out. Miraculously, none of them touched him. As he glanced back he noticed that behind the broken mirror there was another tunnel, this time lit by the flickering blue light of the earth energy.
Church found himself in a circular, domed room cast in sapphire by the light of four braziers burning brightly with the blue fire. There was a sense of serenity that sluiced all the negative emotions from him. In the centre was a raised marble dais bearing an object which he couldn't quite make out; the air seemed to shimmer and fold around an image which constantly changed. Church saw a construct of light with strange, unnerving angles, a robust cauldron blackened by fire, a crystal goblet, an ornate gold vase studded with jewels. As he approached, the object seemed to freeze, the air cleared and he was looking at a chipped bowl of heavily aged wood that most wouldn't have given a second glance.
He stood before it, overwhelmed by the weight of myth and symbolism; here was the dream of generations.
It was too much. Afraid to even touch it, he rested his hands on the marble top. Instantly, the bowl slid towards him of its own accord and came to a stop between his fingers, offering itself up to him. Steeling himself, he grasped it firmly, and at that moment he heard the distant sound of fracturing glass. Within minutes the other four had made their way to the chamber; Church was shocked to see their shattered expressions.
Shavi's face brightened the moment he saw what Church was holding. 'The Grail!' His voice was filled with awe and wonder.
'And the cauldron, one and the same. It-'
They were interrupted by a sudden commotion. In a fury, Ruth had propelled herself towards Veitch and slammed a fist into his face. He pitched backwards, blood spouting from his nose, and now she was raining blows upon him which Veitch batted away as best he could.
'You bastard!' she screamed. 'You killed him!'
Shavi and Laura managed to pull her off with great difficulty; she was transformed by rage, swearing and spitting. Veitch pulled himself into a sitting position, dabbing at his bloody nose. 'Stupid bitch,' he hissed, but Church could see the anger in his face was purely defensive.
Laura looked at Ruth in disbelief. 'Take a stress pill. What's wrong with you-something finally popped?'
'He killed my father.' She shook Laura and Shavi off, consumed by the coldness of her words, which brought back the terrible ache of futility and emptiness she had felt just after her father's death, and she hated Veitch as much for making her feel it again as for his original crime.
'He killed your dad?' Laura looked from Ruth to Veitch. None of them could comprehend what she was saying.
'He was some stupid, petty bigmouth with a gun trying to get rich quick by robbing a building society.' The contempt in Ruth's voice hissed acidly. 'My uncle was in there and that bastard shot him dead, then ran away. And when my father found out what had happened, it killed him.'
They stared at Veitch for some sort of denial, but he couldn't look at any of them.
'He was just an old man!' Ruth cried. 'He couldn't have done anything to you!' She swallowed noisily. 'He was going down to Brighton with my aunt to celebrate their silver wedding anniversary. We were going to have a party.. She swallowed again. 'What you did that day destroyed our family!'
Veitch bit his lip, said nothing.
Ruth glared at him, but her eyes were already filling with tears. She turned away and Church stepped in and put his arms around her. There was resistance at first, then she folded against him, although her body still felt rigid and cold, as if made of compacted ice.
'I didn't mean to do it,' Veitch protested. 'I know it's no fucking excuse, but I just … I was frightened. I knew I shouldn't have been there. And then I turned round and I thought he was coming for me …' He stared blankly at the ground. 'If it means anything, I've never had a minute's peace since that day.'
'It doesn't mean anything,' Ruth said coldly.
The others shifted uncomfortably in the blast of raw emotions. Eventually Church said, 'I know how you feel. Exactly how you feel. And that's why I'd never ask you to forgive him. But what's at stake in the world is more important than everything that's happening in our lives. If you break us up now-'
