Phil Rickman - Midwinter of the Spirit

‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ Tessa said. ‘It was just that his breathing sort of altered and I thought he was starting to… go.’

All four of them stood watching Denzil from outside the door.

‘Gone, has he?’ An old man warbling from the ward. ‘What’s happening over there?’

‘Everything’s fine, Francis,’ Eileen Cullen hissed. ‘Go to sleep now, will you.’

Merrily took a closer look at Denzil Joy, his face half-lit by the lamp on a table just outside the door. Black hair over shallow forehead, small, sucking mouth. His frame thin and wiry, with bony arms. Grip like a monkey-wrench, my dear .

‘Does he never say anything? Never ask for anything? Doesn’t he talk to you?’

‘Doesn’t like talking to women,’ Cullen said. ‘Prefers to communicate with us in other ways.’

Sandra instinctively massaged her bruised wrist. ‘I reckon he didn’t do this on his own. That’s what I think now.’

Merrily turned to her. ‘You’re a Christian, Sandra?’

‘I attend St Peter’s,’ Sandra declared piously. ‘Well, not every week – sometimes shifts don’t allow, obviously. But one week in every three – at least that.’

‘And you don’t believe, Eileen.’

‘I’m aware of evil,’ she snapped. ‘Of course I am. I just think there’s quite enough of it on this earth to be going on with.’

‘Tessa?’

‘I’m scared.’ In her uniform, no make-up, Tessa looked about Jane’s age, although she surely must be several years older. She had quite a posh accent. ‘I thought he was Cheyne-Stoking. I didn’t want to be alone with him when he died.’

Merrily glanced at Cullen, who beckoned her away from the door.

‘She means the kind of sporadic breathing that tells you they’re on their way out.’

Merrily nodded, remembering other bedsides.

‘The smell’s gone, Eileen. At least it’s not what it was.’

‘I don’t know, he seems to be able to turn it on and off at will. That’s what gets to Protheroe – him controlling his smell. Particularly when a woman gets close. There’s a psychological solution, if you ask me.’

‘He’s kind of drawing energy through sexual arousal?’

‘I can’t imagine there’s any physical arousal, and I don’t feel inclined to check. I’ve about had it with this one.’ Cullen wiped her brow with the side of a fist. ‘See, earlier on, Sandra was threatening to walk out. That’s when I called you. She knows if I took any disciplinary action over this there’d be unfavourable publicity of the kind nobody wants. I’m going through the motions, so I am, and I’d be happy if you could just do the same.’

‘Primarily, we need to consider what’s best for him.’

‘I just think he’s an evil bastard, you know? I wish he’d just die, then we could get him portered the hell out of here.’

Merrily sighed. No putting this off any longer. ‘I’ll go in and say a few prayers for him.’

‘That’s it? I thought you were an exorcist of some kind?’

‘Some kind,’ Merrily said.

‘I bind unto myself the Name ,

‘The strong Name of the Trinity .

‘By invocation of the same ,

‘The Three in One and One in Three.’

She was back in the sluice-room, alone this time, murmuring St Patrick’s Breastplate to the pale grey walls. A window was open; she heard a siren coming closer – police, or an ambulance bringing someone into Casualty. The normal world out there – and here she was in a former lunatic asylum, getting into Dark Age armour. Relying on her God to pull her out of this, if it should turn out to be misguided.

Don’t ever fall into the trap of thinking it’s you that’s doing it , Huw had stressed. You’re never any more than the medium, the vessel. We don’t want any of this Van Helsing crap, wielding the crucifix like it’s a battle-axe. Always preferred a titchy little cross, meself. Lets you know where you stand in the great scheme of things .

She wore her own cross under her jumper, and it too was pretty small.

What she could do was limited, anyway. She wasn’t allowed to perform an exorcism – and quite right, too – without the permission of the Bishop. Knowing Mick Hunter, he’d call for a written report, spend at least two days considering the ethics of it and how he’d look if it leaked out.

Merrily stepped out on to the ward, where most of the patients slept noisily on, shuffling and muttering. Few people got a peaceful night in a hospital. The silent digital wall-clock said 4.25.

‘I’d better come in with you,’ the night sister said.

‘Perhaps not, Eileen.’

Whenever possible, have other Christians with you as back-up – or witnesses in case there’s any shit flying round afterwards in the media. Or, put it this way, if you’re having people with you, make sure you know where they’ve been .

‘Because I’m not a bloody Bible-basher? Jesus! All right… Nurse Protheroe, what about you? You started all this.’

Sandra shrank away. ‘I can’t.’

‘Superstition,’ Cullen said, with contempt. ‘I can never accept that in a professional. Well, there has to be a staff nurse in there. This is a hospital, in case anybody’s forgotten.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Tessa said.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Sandra whispered harshly.

Merrily thought of Jane. She wouldn’t want the kid within a mile of this. She thought: My God, this is some kind of awful first. Four women gathering like a bunch of witches to plot against a dying man. This ever gets out, we’ll look ridiculous or dangerously paranoid. Or cold conspirators – heartless, vindictive. Are we?

‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’ll be all right on my own. I’m not going to be doing anything dramatic – no holy water. You can all watch through the window if you like.’

‘No,’ said Cullen.

‘I teach Sunday school,’ Tessa offered solemnly, and they all looked at her. ‘I can handle it as long as I’m not alone in there.’

‘All right, then.’ Eileen Cullen shrugged, perhaps still wanting to shame Sandra Protheroe into it, but Sandra didn’t react. ‘Just as long as you realize it’s not an instruction. And you make sure and stay well back from the Reverend, you hear? Any trouble, you come and get me. You know what I mean by trouble?’

‘I think so.’ Tessa nodded. She bit her upper lip, plucked a stray ash-blonde hair from her forehead.

Merrily put a hand on Tessa’s shoulder, leaned in to look for her eyes. ‘You sure about this?’

‘It’s best, isn’t it?’

‘All right. Do you want to come in here a minute.’

The sluice-room as temporary chapel. Merrily faced the girl over the rubbish sacks full of swabs and bandages soaked with bodily fluids and God-knows-what.

‘Tessa, I… How old are you?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘OK, look… I just want to say I’m not too sure about any of this. Whatever Mr Joy’s done in his time, it’s not my job to judge him. We’re just going in to pray with him and try to bring him some peace. To calm down whatever sick yearnings he’s harbouring so that he can end his life in some kind of grace. I mean, probably none of this will be necessary, but when I’ve started, I’ve got rules to follow, so I’d like to… close our eyes a moment. Our Father …’

She said the Lord’s Prayer softly, Tessa joining in, then placed her hands either side of the girl’s bowed head.

‘Jesus… surround her and hold her… safe from the forces of evil.’

It again entered her head that this was all a crazy, hysterical over-reaction; there were no forces of evil, no Je—

She kicked out mentally, sent the thought spinning away. She opened the door.