Alex Preston - The Revelations

‘Have you told David you’re leaving?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you think you should? I mean, he might want to speak with you. I know that it can be frightening to hear the whole tongues thing, and not manage to do it yourself. I almost walked out after the Saturday night service on my first Retreat.’

Philip picked up the holdall and turned to look towards the front doors.

‘I’d prefer not to see him, if that’s OK. I’d just really like to go.’

Marcus stood leaning against the frame of the door. Philip watched him through narrow eyes. A few moments passed and then, with a sigh, Marcus spoke. ‘Fine. I’ll take you. I don’t think we should force anyone to stay here that doesn’t want to.’ They walked out into the night.

The mist was now thick in the air outside, licking itself around the gables and turrets of the house, snaking between the trees and lying out along the gravel of the driveway. The lights that shone at the front of the house caught the mist and sent bright swirling haloes up into the air above them. Dampness dripped down from the trees as they crossed to where the Audi was parked.

The mist fell away behind them when they pulled out of the driveway and the night on the crest of the hill was vast and bright above the little car. They drove along the narrow ridge in silence and then turned onto the Banbury Road.

‘I felt awkward in there earlier. Awkward and very lonely,’ said Philip, staring away from Marcus into the darkness. The moon was dimmer than the previous night, but its light was enough to discern the outlines of the surrounding valleys, farmsteads, villages.

‘Sometimes it can take a few attempts before you manage the tongues.’

‘It wasn’t that. Or it wasn’t only that. It was just that nothing had changed. I felt that I had come all this way, sat through all these sermons and discussions and heard all this high talk and then, when it came down to it, I felt nothing. I was in the same boring service listening to the same meaningless words.’

‘You just need to give it more time. I’m not completely there myself yet, and I’ve been doing this for years. You should try to stick it out.’

‘I have. I’ve spent so much time in St Botolph’s. And the time I’m not there, I think about you all. It’s very appealing for someone like me, someone who you guys wouldn’t even consider as a friend in the real world, to find himself in the middle of such a bright, beautiful gang. Tempting for me to just fake the religion to stay part of it.’

‘Oh, come on, Philip, that’s not fair.’

‘Isn’t it? Look at Lee. She’s always talking about love and forgiveness, but she used me. She didn’t think of my feelings for a moment once she had what she wanted, and you’ll all be the same. You’ll cast me aside because I won’t let myself become some gibbering fool in praise of a God that I don’t believe in.’

They continued to drive in silence. As they reached the outskirts of Banbury, Philip spoke again.

‘I think Lee’s really close to the edge. Please watch her, will you? Some of the things she said that night we were together really frightened me. You need to take care of her, Marcus. If you don’t, no one will.’

‘There is a whole community of us looking out for her, don’t worry.’

‘I’m just not sure that everyone has her best interests at heart.’

They turned into the station car park and Marcus switched off the engine. They sat in silence for a while. Marcus watched taxi drivers smoking with gloved fingers beside their cabs, a family pulling luggage towards the station, a bus slowly disgorging its sleepy passengers onto the forecourt. He could smell something sweet and industrial in the air. Philip opened the door and set his holdall on the ground outside. He reached over and shook Marcus’s hand.

‘Thanks for driving me. I liked you best of all of them. You and Abby are good people. I’m sorry I couldn’t see it through. I would’ve liked to be friends with you.’

‘We can still be friends.’

‘No. No, we can’t. Maybe you don’t realise it, but you won’t ever really be friends with someone who isn’t in the Course. You look down on me now. Perhaps you’re right to.’

He stepped out into the night and a blast of cold air came into the car when he shut the door. Marcus watched him walk across the forecourt. Philip turned and half-raised his hand before passing out of sight. Marcus switched on the radio and listened to old soul songs, feeling guilty for having let David down, but also, at a deeper level, that he had done the right thing. The signal faded as he turned off the Banbury Road and he drove along the ridge in melancholy silence, spotting the entrance to the driveway by the plume of mist that reached out into the road.

The sound of raucous voices and loud music blared from the hall when he came back into the house. He stood at the steps leading into the long room and saw people dancing, chairs overturned, bottles and glasses everywhere. The Nightingales, Mrs Millman and the Earl had gone to bed. Neil was passed out in the chair that Marcus had sat in earlier. The wardrobe doors were open and Marcus saw that the twins were inside. One or other of them would poke a head or an arm out, calling to Abby or Lee to come and inspect the treasures they had discovered. Mouse was striding up and down the main dinner table, the Napoleon hat on his head, a white fox stole around his shoulders. He was carrying a bottle of red wine from which he swigged as he recited from The Wind in the Willows and Alice in Wonderland . Lee sat below him, laughing and clapping. She waved at Marcus, her blue-green eyes flashing wickedly. Marcus heard snatches of Mouse’s words as he passed, and he remembered the books from his childhood and felt suddenly nostalgic and full of love for his friends.

‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late. . How doth the little crocodile. . Poop-poop!’

Marcus walked over to Abby, who was sitting at a table on her own. She had taken a lily from the vase on the table and wore the white flower behind one ear.

‘The Earl’, she said, looking up at him with a grin, ‘was so delighted by the service that he gave me the key to his cellar. I’ve been drinking port. Port makes me feel very silly.’ Her lips and her large teeth behind them were stained purple. Marcus shook his head and sat down beside his wife.

‘Let’s have a glass then,’ he said.

Hours passed. Neil made his way groggily up to bed. The twins fell asleep in the wardrobe. Marcus looked in to see them curled up on a nest of fur coats. Only the four friends were still awake. Mouse and Abby were talking in a corner, surrounded by bottles of wine. Mouse waved his hands as he spoke, taking off his hat and brandishing it every so often to emphasise a point. Marcus was in his favourite armchair with Lee perched once again on the arm. She was very drunk, slurring as she spoke. She leaned against him, one arm around his shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Her earlier melancholy had entirely disappeared, replaced with a kind of manic enthusiasm.

‘We should go on a proper retreat. I’ve been reading about this one in north Wales. You go up into the mountains, stay in tents pitched around an old chapel, spend the days praying and walking and swimming in ice-cold lakes. I think that’s maybe the best way to get close to God.’

‘It sounds amazing,’ Marcus said.

‘I don’t know if David would get jealous, us going on someone else’s retreat.’

Mouse strutted over to them, carrying an armful of lilies, the pollen running orange streaks through the white fur of his stole.

‘Abby and I would be delighted if you’d join us for a trip to pay homage to our great lords of the high road, the titans of the tarmac. I want to drop flowers down on the lorries, let the blessing of nature purify their sooty hearts.’