Phil Rickman - A Crown of Lights

While he told her, he was seeing it so clearly, hearing the voices over the rushing and roaring of the water. Shrieks of shock from the women, Pottinger’s dog barking in excitement. Judith Prosser hadn’t been there, of course; it would be another fifteen years before she and Gareth were married, but she must have heard the story many times since.

‘Everything!’ Robin said. ‘Everything that wasn’t part of the fabric or nailed down. All the pews, the lectern, a big tapestry from the wall, the choir stalls... all floating down the Hindwell Brook. Until the first stuff reaches the bend and gets snagged on some branches and it all starts to pile up.’

He could see the great dam, one of the pews on end, wood groaning and splintering like the wreck of a sailing ship on the rocks, the water rising all around. He wanted so much to paint it, like Turner would have painted it, all mist and spray.

Betty said, ‘The altar?’

‘Oh yeah, that too. He’d stripped off the cloth and dragged it out through the doors and out to the end of the promontory, like he’d done with all the pews, and just... just tipped it into the water.’

Visualizing the great spout of water as the altar crashed into the brook.

‘He was apparently a big guy. Played rugby. Very strong. His most impressive feat was to rip out the stone font. He must’ve rolled it out the double doors. They found it sticking out of the water, like a big rock.’

Betty glanced bleakly across at him, then picked up her glass and drank the rest of the warm water like it was a double Scotch.

‘And where was he? Where was Penney?’

‘Gone. They never saw him again. The Prossers and some other guys they could trust salvaged what they could. Took about four of them to get the font out – they waited nearly a week till the water level dropped down, and draped tarpaulin and stuff over it meantime. Couple of weeks later, the diocese gets a cheque for several thousand. Whole damn thing was hushed up.’

‘They never found out why he did it?’

‘Just he’d grown to hate the church, was all. There was no further explanation. He’d cleaned it out. Musta taken him hours, working at it through the night, by the oil lamps – no electricity in there. Trashing his own church like a maniac. When they went inside, it was all bare. Just the Bible from off of the lectern. The Bible lying there in the middle of the nave. Lying open.’

Betty waited a long time before she asked him.

‘Open at?’

Robin smiled, shaking his head.

‘The Book of Revelations, wouldn’t you guess? About Michael and his angels taking on the Devil and his angels? The great dragon getting cast out into the earth? All of this underlined in ink.’

‘I see.’ Betty stood up.

‘Shows us where Ellis is coming from, doesn’t it? He’s clearly heard about Penney and the dragon fixation that gets him so screwed up he trashes his own church. Well, OK, maybe the poor guy experiences some pre-Christian energy on that site which is so awesome it shakes his Christian faith, scares the shit outa him. To Penney it’s devilish. It blows his mind... he wrecks the joint.’

‘Thereby becoming a vehicle for this energy, I suppose,’ Betty said wearily.

‘Holy shit!’ A big light came on in Robin’s head. ‘Hey, that’s so cool! The priest is unwittingly helping the church to cast off Christianity – to revert.’

Betty took her glass to the sink, not looking at him, like she didn’t want to hear what was coming next. But, hell, he had to say it. It was staring them right in the face.

‘Bets... it’s down to us, now, isn’t it? To, like, finish the job. It puts us hard against Ellis, but... like, is this fate, or what?’

He was tingling with excitement. This was their clear future.

At the sink, Betty put down the glass, turned both taps on full. She was staring into the water running out of the taps. ‘I doubt this is as simple as you imagine.’

‘Or maybe it just is . Maybe it’s also fate that the local people weren’t so attached to the church the way it was that they wanted to fight to save it.’

‘It was in a poor state, anyway. It was going to cost a fortune in repairs. That’s what the Pottinger woman said.’

‘And maybe Ellis was right about something coming to the surface. Bad news for him... but not for us, babes.’

‘Oh, don’t be so bloody simplistic! Just for a moment stop trying to make everything fit into your dream scenario.’

‘Well, sure... OK.’ He felt hurt. ‘I mean let’s talk this thing through.’

‘I have to go out. I have to go and see Mrs Wilshire.’

‘Again? What the fuck is this?’

‘It’s not your problem.’

‘Oh really?’ Hell, this needed saying, this was long overdue. ‘Well what is my problem is why you always have to find excuses to get out of here. Like going in the car . Why don’t you ever even go into the village? The place we live next to? Why don’t you get to know the people here ? People like Judith Prosser next door. OK, Gareth might be a dumb bastard, but she’s OK, not what I imagined. Maybe we were wrong to start condemning the local people as total redneck bigots, purely on your flawed fucking childhood memories.’

Betty didn’t flare up. She just stared hard at him for a couple of seconds, and he stared back.

And then she said, ‘I never said that. I’m sure there are some decent, liberal, perceptive, outward-looking people down there.’ She went to the table, picked up a piece of white notepaper, pushed it at him. ‘Like, for instance, the person who sent that.’

THE GOTHIC LETTER D was still on the office door, but hanging loose now, at an angle. D for Deliverance – Bishop Hunter’s idea.

As had been the Reverend Watkins becoming Deliverance Consultant.

She stood on the stone stairs, in front of the closed door, and decided, after all, to go back home. Her head ached. What the hell was she doing here? As she turned to creep back down the stairs, the office door opened.

‘I thought it was!’

Merrily stopped, and slowly and sheepishly turned around again.

‘I thought it was your car.’ Sophie was expensively casual in a blue and white Alpine sweater. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Nobody would have expected you to come in today.’

She’d spoken briefly to Sophie on the phone, asking her to put the bishop in the picture.

‘Merrily, you look—’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Starved.’ Sophie stood aside for her.

Merrily slung Jane’s duffel coat on the back of her chair, and slumped into it. ‘If I hadn’t come in today , I might never have come in again.’

Sophie frowned and began making tea. Through the gatehouse window, above Broad Street, the late morning sun flickered unstably in and out between hard clouds. The air outside had felt as though it was full of razor blades. The weather forecast had said there might be snow showers tonight – which was better than fog.

‘The bishop tried to ring you.’ Sophie laid out two cups and saucers. ‘He said if I spoke to you to tell you there was no need to phone back.’

‘Ever.’

‘Don’t be silly, Merrily. On reflection, I’m glad you did come in. Are you listening to me?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘You cannot drive to Worcester.’

‘I’ll be perfectly—’

‘You will not. I shall drive you. Leave your car here. I don’t want an argument about this, do you understand?’

‘Well, I can take a bit of a rest this afternoon. They’re not releasing her until after five.’