Phil Rickman - The Cure of Souls

‘So she didn’t think it was entirely a scam – the spiritualism?’

‘It started out that way, like I said. But when it began to work , when the kid’s really gone for it, she’s like, “Oh this is how it happens, this is how it happens.” You know?’

‘Not really.’

‘It was like she believed the kid’s ma really was in touch. Now, she believes she’s got the power. All the things she told people at the Christmas Fair, ever since, she’s been like, “Oh, Mrs So-and-So just died, you hear that? I told her she was gonner die!” Going on like that.’

Jane shivered.

‘They’re really cooking, you know, her and the kid. I don’t know how she found out about the murder, I really don’t. But then she reckons a load of other stuff’s coming through that she didn’t know. Layla is very excited, not that you’d know that, if you en’t known her as long as me. Come the holidays, no way does she wanner let go of little Shelbone. That afternoon, after the heavy mob crash into Stevie’s shed and bust us up, I’m like, right, that’s it, you can count me out, sister, I got better things to do. But she’s already making other arrangements.’

‘So you haven’t been in contact with Layla since school broke up?’ Jane said.

‘She rang me a couple of times. I said I was too busy? Next thing, I hear about the kid chucking up in church – well, nobody knew what that was about except me. I thought, this has gone too far. This is well over the bloody top. Next thing I hear, she’s tried to do away with herself. That’s spooky, ennit?’ Kirsty stood up. ‘There it is. You got the lot now.’

Eirion said, ‘You’ve known Layla a long time then?’

‘All my life, give or take. We were at the same little school at Eardisley. Course, they weren’t rich then, her and her ma. When Allan Henry come on the scene, he wanted to take her away from Moorfield to some private school, but she wouldn’t go.’

‘You never met her father?’

‘ She never met her father. She used to have like fantasies about him, this mysterious gypsy. He was probably some travelling scrap-metal dealer, but she had him roaming Europe in his romantic caravan, seducing women with love potions and doing the business.’

‘The business?’

‘The magic. Doing the magic for his friends and cursing his enemies. She got all the books, and whenever there was gypsies in the area she’d spend hours with them. She even went off with the buggers once for two nights, her ma went bloody spare. And then… Oh yeah – she cursed a teacher once. We had this gym teacher at Moorfield, Mrs Etchinson. Gave us a hard time. Gave everybody a hard time – team spirit, all this shit. Layla was never a team player.’

‘Cursed her how?’ Jane asked. ‘This was probably before my time.’

‘It must’ve been before your time, because everybody knew about it. I dunno what she did. The evil eye, the bad words… grave-dirt in an envelope.’

‘What happened?’

‘Put it this way – within a few months it was confirmed she’d got multiple sclerosis. Not good for a gym teacher.’

‘That takes years to come on,’ Eirion pointed out. ‘She must have had it already.’

‘That was what we said,’ Kirsty said. ‘But it does makes you think, don’t it?’

It didn’t give Jane a good feeling. She stood up, too. ‘What did she do for Steve, to get him to lend her his shed?’

‘More what she didn’t do, if you ask me,’ Kirsty said enigmatically. ‘Like being considerate enough not to shrivel his genitals.’

‘But she’s still seeing Amy?’

‘Look, all I know is, when she rang me she said Amy was coming out to meet her at night. Like really at night – when her parents were in bed. She’d ring Amy on the little phone that Amy kept under the pillow, and Layla would say the word and Amy would be up and dressed and out the front door and Layla would pick her up at the bottom of the lane.’

‘Where would they go? I mean she’d need somewhere with a table, to lay all the letters out and—’

‘No way,’ Kirsty said scornfully. ‘That is history .’

‘What?’

‘That’s primitive stuff, now. They got well beyond the glass and the little bloody letters.’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘You don’t wanner know, Jane.’ Kirsty started to walk away. She looked back over her beefy shoulder. ‘Or, more to the point, I don’t wanner know.’

ALLAN HENRY’S SITTING room had one wall that was all plate glass, perhaps forty feet long. It had wide green views across to one of the conical, wooded humps known as Robin Hood’s Butts. Appropriately, according to legend, the Butts had been dumped there by the Devil, making him Hereford’s first sporadic developer.

‘And this is your…’ Allan Henry studied Sophie, evidently trying to decide whether she was mother or sister.

‘Secretary,’ Sophie said quickly and firmly. She and Merrily were at either end of a white leather four-seater sofa, one of two in the vast snowy room. Under their feet was a pale grey rug with an unusual design – a tree growing through the centre of a wheel.

Merrily didn’t recall ever seeing Sophie looking more agitated. Sophie wanted out of here. Sophie was Old Hereford to the core; to her this man was the Devil.

‘Vicars have secretaries now?’ Allan Henry said.

‘Sophie works for the Cathedral,’ Merrily told him.

‘And what do you do, Mrs Watkins? Specifically.’

‘Erm… official title: Deliverance Consultant. I’m afraid I don’t have a card or—’

‘Or a dog collar. So what is a—?’

‘It’s somebody who deals with problems of a paranormal nature,’ Merrily said, for once without embarrassment. ‘Used to be Diocesan Exorcist.’

His eyes widened. ‘They still do that?’

‘It’s never gone away, Mr Henry.’

‘Well…’ He leaned against the towering brick inglenook, long mirrors either side of it reflecting the greenery. ‘I’m now trying to think if I have a problem of a paranormal nature. Let’s see… when things go bump in the night, I can usually explain it. And although I often have people leeching off me, I wouldn’t call them vampires. Can I offer you both a glass of wine?’ He laughed. ‘That is, can I offer you each a glass of wine.’

‘Thank you, but I’m driving,’ Sophie said quickly.

‘And I’ll be driving in a short while,’ Merrily said.

‘Not even one glass?’

‘Not even one between us. Honestly, we don’t have very long. We’ve got a number of parents to see.’

‘Oh, parents, is it?’

His local accent had been planed down to a light burr. He was probably in his late forties. He had strong, lank hair, deep lines tracking down his tanned face from eyes to jaw. A modest beer-belly overhung his jeans, but you had the feeling it was being gradually ironed out.

‘So why did you want to see my wife rather than me?’

‘We didn’t think you’d be here,’ Merrily said. ‘We thought you’d probably be out somewhere building something.’

‘With my bare hands.’

‘We all have our fantasies,’ she said, and then realized there were two ways he could take that. Sophie frowned at her. Sophie was sending out the message: Get out now, make some excuse, this is a mistake .

Allan Henry laughed. He laughed, Merrily was noticing, with a confidence that was almost self-conscious. Maybe he’d had a lot of costly work done on his teeth, was determined to get his money’s worth. Otherwise, she sensed around him a kind of conserved energy. She could imagine him in board meetings, relaxed and expressionless and then jumping on someone without preamble, like a jungle cat. Laughing, maybe.