The Lamp of the Wicked

do scare me. They have a different morality. It’s a fact, is it not, that country people kill, without too much thought. Farmers, hunting types – they don’t even question it.’

‘It’s still a big step to hunting people.’ She pushed her cold hands into the opposite sleeves of her coat, Chinese style. The car heater wasn’t doing anything for her. Basically, she didn’t want to go to Hereford Police Station to absorb confidences from a killer; she wanted to go home.

‘I don’t know,’ Bliss said. ‘And unless Lodge opens up to you tonight, we’ll be fighting for every scrap of the picture. And that’s why I want to get into lifting some more septic tanks. Tomorrow, soon as it’s light, if I can.’

‘On your own? You’re going to sign out the West Mercia police shovel?’

‘Ah, well…’ Bliss speeded up the wipers. ‘As it happens, you’ve put your finger on a minor logistical problem there, Merrily. I want to lift a couple of Efflapures, right? Now, I could get onto headquarters, obtain the necessary chitties and have a nice, professional JCB team out here… accompanied by a bunch of nice Regional Crime Squad boys with a detective superintendent in green wellies. And it’s bye-bye, Francis, thanks for all your help.’

‘Modern policing,’ Merrily said. ‘You can’t get around it.’

‘But think what that would cost… and suppose I’m wrong? Also, they’d make a mess of a lorra nice gardens, specially with all this rain we’ve been having. So what I’m saying… how much better, how much more discreet, how much less likely to cause a panic, if we have a small operation conducted by a feller who really knows his Efflapures.’

‘It’s an argument, I suppose.’

‘Good man, your Mr Parry,’ Bliss said. ‘A very able contractor, everybody says that.’

Merrily rose up against her seat belt. ‘Forget it!’

‘Listen, it makes a lorra sense – feller who can whip ’em out, put ’em back, no mess. Might even make a better job of it.’ But Gomer’s got a personal axe to grind on Roddy Lodge!’

‘Which is why I thought he might be happy to do it.’

‘Frannie, you are so irresponsible.’

‘Aw, Merrily, what’s he gonna do? Plant evidence? Bring his own bodies?’ Bliss drove placidly through the scattered lights of the village of Much Birch. ‘I’m assuming not all Gomer’s plant was destroyed. I mean, he’ll be able to put his hands on a digger of sorts?’

‘I’m not even going to answer that.’

‘You just did,’ Bliss said. ‘Thank you, Reverend.’

She scowled. ‘I can’t help feeling that something here’s swallowing us up. Me and Gomer.’

‘Let’s not be melodramatic, Merrily.’

‘Maybe it’s just you,’ she said, ‘and your voracious ambition.’

Bliss laughed. Presently they crested a hill, and there was the city of Hereford laid out before them like an illuminated pinball table.

Post-session, they were all – except for Lol – crammed into the scruffy kitchen behind the studio, where Prof Levin had his cappuccino machine going. Pinned to the wall over the sink was the proposed cover for Lol’s album. He was shown in black and white in an empty field, wearing his Roswell alien sweatshirt. Someone had made him take off his glasses, so that he looked totally disorientated, which was quite a smart move actually, in Jane’s view. The album title was stamped diagonally across the photo in stencilled, packing-case lettering.

ALIEN

Which was cool. It was a very cool cover altogether. Like Lol had been taken away and brought back but not to the place he’d been taken from. It wouldn’t have his name on the front, so that the punters would have to take it out of the rack to find out who it was by.

She asked Prof Levin, ‘Is it actually going to happen for him this time, do you think?’

‘Jane, what can I say? It’s a strange and lovely album. It needs word of mouth.’

‘People say I’ve got an awfully big mouth.’

‘Well, there you go.’

‘And Eirion’s very good at manipulating the Net.’

‘It all helps.’ Prof Levin wore an oversized King of the Hill T-shirt. His off-white beard was freshly trimmed. He was The Man, Eirion said.

Right now, Eirion was chatting up The Woman, having done his innocent, nervous approach, all pink-cheeked and lovable, the smarmy git, assuring her he had all her albums. For heaven’s sake, he was too young to have all of Moira Cairns’s albums. Lol, meanwhile, had disappeared.

‘So what’s on your mind, Jane?’ Prof said.

‘Oh, I… Well, I was just thinking that it would be like seriously useful if Lol was to become mega very soon. I mean, not for the money or the fame, as such.’

Prof Levin inclined his head, over-conveying curiosity. Behind him, the cappuccino machine was making impatient noises. ‘Give me a moment, darling, and I’ll be with you,’ Prof said to the machine.

Jane said, ‘Like, if he was so big, so famous… well, we all know it wouldn’t go to his head because… because it just wouldn’t.’

‘I agree totally.’

‘I mean, if he was famous enough that people would be like, hey, can it really be true that Lol Robinson is going out with some little woman vicar? Does that make sense?’

Prof Levin considered. ‘Some.’

‘See, it’s not as if she thinks she’s any kind of big deal, but he does. He thinks she’s spiritually over his head – like too good for him, I suppose, literally. When in fact he’s probably been to places we can’t even imagine. Mixing with really mad people on a level that even most psychiatrists never reach.’

Prof said gently, ‘I think perhaps she understands that, Jane. But maybe they have one or two things to work out before they consider going public.’

‘I still think it’d be useful if he was out there… up there, recognized, you know? I think he thinks that, too, though he’d never—’

‘Give me a break!’ Prof Levin spread his hands. ‘I agree.’

‘So is there anything else we can do?’

Prof shook his head. ‘I think what we do, Jane, just for the moment, is nothing. I think we butt out and let what happens happen.’

Jane saw him lift his gaze across the room towards the Cairns woman. She heard Eirion asking the Scottish siren something about a man who played the Pennine Pipes, whatever they were. Moira was smiling politely, but her attention was on the doorway – Lol coming in.

‘So where’s your mother now, Jane?’ Prof Levin said.

‘She’s, er, working, I think.’

Coming down from the gallery, Jane had said to Lol, I’m sure Mum was going to call you tonight. She’s just been kind of… overburdened. Lol had merely nodded and then gone outside on his own into the night, the alien, Oh God.

Prof called to Lol, ‘Jane was just telling me she thinks you should get out more.’

‘No, I didn’t.’ Jane felt the blush coming, turned her head away. She heard Lol saying, ‘I wouldn’t argue.’ He came over. ‘Prof, would it be feasible for you to spare me for the odd day? I’ve kind of… I’ve just agreed to maybe take on this kind of part-time job.’

‘Job?’ Prof said mildly. ‘What kind of job?’

‘Manual.’ Lol looked down at his guitarist’s fingers. ‘I’ll wear gloves, obviously.’

‘Sure, whatever.’ Prof turned to attend to his cappuccino machine, casually assembling mugs. ‘Manual is fine. Maybe you could also do bingo calling at night, to help destroy your voice.’

Lol explained to Jane, ‘I called Gomer. I haven’t got an HGV licence or anything, but I can do the hand- digging and things.’

Jane blinked. ‘What?’

‘Just to clear the backlog. Keep the business going until he can get things reorganized.’

‘You’re…’ Jane stared at him in dismay. He was sweating lightly, his hair roughed up. ‘You’re going to work with like… shit?’