Phil Rickman - Midwinter of the Spirit

He stared down at her and, although it was too dark to see his face, she sensed his dismay and disbelief.

‘All right,’ she said, ‘why don’t you ask God? Why don’t you go and kneel down quietly in front of your high altar and ask Him? Ask Him if He’s happy about this?’

The Bishop didn’t move. There were just the two of them here in the holiest place. She dropped the wooden cross and bent to pick it up.

‘I made a mistake, didn’t I?’ Mick Hunter said. ‘I made a big mistake with you.’

She straightened up. ‘Looks like you did.’

‘Do you remember what I said to you last night when you asked me if I wanted your resignation from the post of Deliverance Consultant?’

‘You told me to get a good night’s sleep and forget about it.’

‘And?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Put it in writing for me tomorrow.’

‘Mick—’

‘Bishop,’ he said, ‘I think.’

Jane heard him breathing, so she knew roughly where he was – like, somewhere in the crypt, because the breathing filled the whole, intimidating blackness of it. She had her coat open and the candle cupped in her hand inside. She caught a finger in the flame and nearly yelped.

Christ be with me , she heard inside her head. In Mum’s voice. Mum be with me – that might be more use!

Just words, like a mantra – words to repeat and hold on to, to try and shout down your fear, like those poor, doomed soldiers in the First World War singing in the trenches. Christ within me .

She walked towards the sound of breathing, which came quicker now, with a snorting and a snuffling. Gross. What was this? Maybe she should get back up the steps and shout for help. But there was a power cut; and by the time she could get someone with a lamp down here, it would be over, whatever it was. Like she couldn’t guess.

She shouted, ‘Freeze!’

Bringing the candle out from under her coat, she held it as high as she could reach.

A hundred quaking shadows broke out over the crypt, and James Lyden’s eyes opened wide in shock, his mouth agape.

‘Oh!’ Jane recoiled in disgust.

There he was, the Boy Bishop, with one gaitered leg on a long-dead woman’s stone face. His chasuble was tented over Rowenna, now emerging – who for just a moment looked so gratifyingly ridiculous on her knees that Jane laughed out loud.

‘You total slimeballs!’

But she was nervous, realizing this wasn’t just some irreverent stunt – the Boy Bishop in full regalia, except presumably for his underpants. This was an act of deliberate sacrilege. It was meant to have an unholy resonance.

Get out of here!

Jane turned and made a dash for the steps.

But crashed into a wall. In the dark you quickly lost any sense of direction.

When she turned back, Rowenna was already between her and the steps leading out. Suddenly James’s arms encircled her from behind, his breath pumping against her neck.

Jane screamed.

Rowenna was easing the candle from between her fingers.

‘Oh, kitten,’ she said thickly. ‘Oh, kitten, what are we going to do with you now?’

Jane glared at her with open hostility. ‘Does our friend here know you do the same with Danny Gittoes?’

Holding the candle steady, between their two faces, Rowenna looked untroubled.

Jane said, ‘Does he know about those clergymen in Salisbury?’

Rowenna shook her head sadly.

‘I now know everything about you,’ Jane continued. ‘I know exactly what you are.’

Rowenna smiled sympathetically. ‘You’re not really getting any of this, are you? What I am is a woman, while you are still very much a child.’

Jane glared at her in silent fury, as Rowenna just shook her head. Looking at her now, you detected the kind of lazy arrogance in her eyes that you hadn’t picked up on before – and the coldness.

‘You must realize we were only friends because someone wanted your mother monitored, yeah?’

‘Who?’

‘And that sort of thing is how I make a bit of money sometimes.’

‘Someone at the Pod? Angela? You set me up for Angela, didn’t you?’

Annoyance contorted Rowenna’s small mouth. ‘Oh, please. I was ahead of where the Pod are years ago. Though it was quite touching to think of you standing at the window in your little nightie, solemnly saluting the sun and moon, and thinking you were plugged into the Ancient Wisdom.’

‘You bitch—’

‘Pity it all went wrong, though. I could have really shown you things that would’ve blown you away.’

‘Oh, you’re just so full of shit, Rowenna. I—’

Rowenna suddenly slapped Jane’s face, knocking her head back into James’s chest. ‘Don’t push your luck with me any more. Given time, I could really do things to you. I could make you totally fucking crazy .’

Jane felt James Lyden’s breath hot on her neck, and struggled vainly. ‘You’re even fooling yourself.’

‘You don’t know anything.’ Rowenna held the candle very close to Jane’s face, so that she could feel its heat. ‘Remember that suit? The greasy old suit I had Danny hide in the vestry?’

‘Yeah, who told you to do that?’

‘ Nobody told me. I don’t take anyone’s orders… unless I want to.’ Rowenna wore a really sickly, incense-smelling scent that seemed to fill up the entire crypt. ‘I just couldn’t resist it after you’d told me how Denzil Joy had so badly scared your mother. I thought that would be really interesting – to see if I could make him stick to her.’

‘What?’

Rowenna put her face very close to Jane’s and breathed the words into her. For the first time, Jane knew what it meant to have one’s skin crawl.

‘I found his widow’s name in the phone book, so I sent James round to collect any old clothes for charity. And next I got into her : the Reverend Merrily Watkins. I nicked some of her cigarettes when I was at the vicarage, and I smoked them slowly and visualized, and I did a few other things and… OK, maybe I asked for a little assistance. It’s amazing what help you can get when you’re working on the clergy – on the enemy. And it worked, didn’t it? It really made her sweat; it made her ill. You told me she was ill. And I bet she didn’t tell you the half of it.’

Jane felt sick. She must be lying. She couldn’t have done all that.

‘You’re… just evil .’

‘I’m special, kitten. I’m very special.’ Rowenna moved away.

‘No, you’re not. You’re just… maybe you are a lot older than me. You’re, like, old before your time – old and corrupted.’

‘Right.’ Rowenna stepped away from her. ‘That’s it. James?’

James answered, ‘Yes?’ in this really subservient way.

‘Hit her for me, would you? Hit her hard.’

James said, ‘What?’

‘ Hit the little cunt!’

‘No!’ Jane turned and hurled herself against him. Turned in his arms and pushed out at his face.

Which made him angry, and he let go for an instant, and then he punched her hard in the mouth. And then Rowenna’s hand came at her like a claw, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her forward. Jane felt a crippling pain in the stomach and doubled up in agony. Another wrench at her hair pulled her upright, so James could hit her again in the face – enjoying it now, excited.

‘Yes,’ Rowenna hissed. ‘ Yes! ’

As Jane’s legs gave way, and the stone floor rushed up towards her.

Perhaps she passed out then. For a moment, at least, she forgot where she was.

‘We can’t!’ she heard from somewhere in the distance.