The Fabric of Sin

‘Do you want to explain that?’

Jonathan Long said nothing. Merrily played with a teaspoon, let the silence drift for a few seconds, looked at him.

‘So would that … would that be one of those we ask the questions kind of silences?’

‘I did try to tell you on the way here, mate,’ Bliss said. ‘This is a woman who isn’t invariably attracted to the enigmatic type.’

Long’s gaze settled for a moment on Bliss, and then he turned back to Merrily.

‘You performed an exorcism? Or whatever you prefer to call it.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake—’ Merrily dropped the teaspoon into her mug. ‘We have an escalating series of responses, and exorcism is so far up the ladder we usually get vertigo before we … She had a blessing. In a church. That’s it.’

And it shouldn’t have been. There should’ve been follow-up. Aftercare.

‘What was your opinion of her, Mrs Watkins?’

‘What?’

‘Give me a picture.’

‘She was intelligent, in her way. Intense. Seemed certain about what she’d experienced, but I was … keeping an open mind.’

‘You thought she might be delusional.’

‘Or making it up. Some people do.’

‘But you went ahead, all the same.’

‘At the blessing stage, we can afford to be … a bit uncertain. For the heavier stuff, you need permission from the bishop. It’s also likely to involve a psychiatric assessment.’

‘And do you think psychiatry might have been appropriate in the case of Fuchsia Mary Linden?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Any suggestion of previous violence? On either side.’

‘Her and Felix? No. I mean, are you sure she did this?’

‘Merrily,’ Bliss said. ‘As I’m apparently leading the inquiry, I’ll make an executive decision to spell it out for you. We’re waiting for forensic. Even the dental stuff isn’t straightforward. When a train’s — I’m sorry — when a train’s run over someone’s head, it’s like collecting beads from a broken necklace. No, we don’t know she killed him and there’s a possibility we never will, for sure. We haven’t found a weapon. But it’s one of those situations where the press statement is likely to say that we’re not looking for anybody else. That any clearer?’

‘Thanks. No … I can’t see any reason she’d want to kill Felix. My impression was that she very much needed him in her life. Her rock, if you like. An old family friend, a link going … way back. She’d gone in search of him. She seems to have wanted security, a proper home.’

Didn’t want to mention either umbilical cords or paying for art college. Might tell Bliss later, but not in front of Jonathan Long.

Not for her to pass on Mrs Morningwood’s stories, either. Not to this guy.

Long nodded. ‘Right then.’ He stood up. ‘That’s probably all for the present … unless …’

He glanced at Bliss, who came more slowly to his feet.

‘If you think of anything else that might be relevant, Merrily, you know where I am.’ Bliss smiled. ‘Jonathan … well, nobody really knows where Jonathan is.’

When they’d gone, Merrily poured Long’s coffee, untouched, down the sink and rang Huw Owen in the Brecon Beacons. No answer. She called Sophie at the gatehouse. Engaged.

She wasn’t ready to go to the church.

She ought to sit down and think about it, sensibly.

She didn’t feel sensible. There was a possibility — no getting round it — that she could, in some way, have prevented this. All of it. If she hadn’t been so blase, so easily deflected. She fumbled a cigarette out of the packet, started to light it and couldn’t get a proper grip on the Zippo. No use saying it had all been out of her hands; she’d let it slip through them, fall to the flags, smash.

The phone was ringing in the scullery. Merrily dropped the lighter, went to the sink and splashed water on her face. Towelled it roughly and went through to the phone.

‘Ledwardine Vicarage.’

‘Adam Eastgate, Merrily, at the Duchy. Listen, have you heard the radio news this morning?’

‘Kind of.’

‘I’ve been trying to get some sense out of the police.’

‘Erm … I was over there last night. Not long after they found him. I’m so sorry, Adam.’

The big black phone was full of a charged-up silence.

‘The police’ve just been here,’ Merrily said. ‘I’m afraid …’

‘Jesus, Merrily, I could never in a million years have imagined—’

‘No. Me neither. I’m not sure if you know this, but Felix’s girlfriend Fuchsia is also dead. Found on … on the railway. Not yet officially identified, but I don’t think there’s any doubt.’

‘Christ almighty. So, how … how did Felix die?’

‘He had head injuries. Adam, I’m sorry. I didn’t see any of this coming, either. And I ought to have.’

‘Come on, that’s easily said, Merrily. We could all say that. Hell, I knew him better than any builder we ever used, he was a canny fella, I liked him a lot, but … Jesus, this is not real. This is complete madness.’

‘Yes.’

In her head, Merrily was in the car again on Garway Hill, on the phone to Bliss, irritably deciding not to check out the Master House. Sod this, going home.

‘I’ll have to get word to the Man,’ Adam Eastgate said. ‘He always admired Felix’s work.’

She heard him breathing steadily. Pictured him standing by the window in the Duchy’s barn, looking out towards the Welsh border hills and Garway and wondering how this might rebound. Heard him clearing his throat.

‘Merrily, I’ve got to ask. Does this connect, in your … your view of things, to the Master House?’

‘Be stupid of me to say it doesn’t. But not, I’d guess, in any way that would interest the police.’

‘So it won’t come out at the inquest or anything, about …’

‘Inquests tend to stick to the cold facts.’

‘Right.’ Eastgate paused. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. Have to … get another builder.’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know how to react to this. Was she crazy? I mean, that’s the issue, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. At first I thought it was something like that, but now I’ve been to the house, and … I don’t know. There’s a lot of history.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Me?’

‘The Bishop referred it to you, Merrily.’

‘Yes.’

Remembering how she’d reacted, telling Lol, I don’t want to go and stay in Garway for a week.

‘You think it’s over, Merrily? You think it begins and ends with this disturbed woman?’

‘No,’ Merrily said. ‘Not really.’

23 Corruption of Muhammad

When she went out by the back door, it had turned into the kind of October day that made global warming