Alex Preston: The Revelations

‘You are a deep sea,

You are an abyss.

The more I lose, the more I find,

So I’ll lose myself in your kiss.

You are a fire that burns

Without being consumed

That takes away the cold

And guides me safely home.’

Abby rocked sensuously on her hips as she sang, one arm twirling up towards the roof. Marcus wondered if Abby was thinking about him as she sang, or about David, or Jesus. It was a strangely ambiguous song, just a love song which, because of the setting, was interpreted by the audience as something holy, a hymn. He imagined Abby as the central pillar of a cross, with David and himself as the arms.

After the music, they ate. Sally Nightingale stood at the back of the room with other Course volunteers doling out food. Marcus was always struck by how attractive the volunteers were. The young men wore aprons over their smart-casual work clothes, smiling with large teeth that were extraordinarily white. The girls were thin and pretty and blonde, dressed in immaculate suits from the office or the expensive bohemian smocks of the stay-at-home mothers. It wasn’t only that the Course attracted its members from the wealthy roads that surrounded the church; some travelled from the other side of London to attend. The Course had links with the top universities, with major public schools, with law firms and investment banks. It was marketed to these institutions as a philosophical way into religion, as a path that encouraged the aggressive questioning of faith. So the people who attended were bright, successful, inquisitive.

A group of politicians stood at the back of the church talking to their banker friends. They would eat later, after the Course, piling into restaurants on Beauchamp Place or Walton Street. Having recently won power by a thin margin, the politicians wore about them an air of restrained celebration. They were all very young, Eton-educated, near-identical in sober suits and blue ties. They slapped the wide backs of the financiers who were laughing over-loudly at their jokes. Their haughty, exhausted wives, brandishing babies in their arms, chatted to one another in the shadows of the side aisles, discussing schools and nanny troubles. The politicians had been members of the Course since its early days and would now be instrumental in helping David and the Earl to further embed it in the nation’s consciousness.

Next to the bankers and politicians, hoping to pick up some tradable news, Marcus recognised a number of hedge-fund managers whom he had worked with over the past few years. They always looked slightly ashamed to see him: he was a reminder of the potential for failure in lives that usually never contemplated it. He sat on the Course investment committee with some of them and they shouted over one another to convince him of the brilliance of their ideas. The Earl, who chaired these investment meetings, came and stood beside Marcus as he queued for dinner.

‘See the markets today, Marcus?’

‘Yes, although I wasn’t around for the close. I had to be here. I’m a Course leader this year.’

‘So you are. David told me about it the other night in New York.’

The Earl leaned heavily on the table, looking at Marcus through narrow eyes under a low brow. He was a big man, ex-army, who wore his sleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing large forearms covered in wiry black hair. His crew cut was shot through with silver, a giant watch sat on his wrist, and a pair of large Oxfords were shined to mirrors on his feet. He edged his hands down the table towards the steaming pans of pasta. Marcus took the food he knew he was too nervous to eat, and went back to the circle of seats. The Earl walked with him.

‘I’m concerned that some of the funds aren’t positioning themselves correctly for a further slowdown. Seems like they think we’re through the worst of it. I’m not so sure. And with the expenditure required for our US expansion, I’m feeling very nervous, Marcus. David seems so focused on driving new membership that he forgets how much all this costs.’

Marcus sat down beside the Earl.

‘I could have a word with a few of the members if you think it’d help. Perhaps we should raise a bit of cash now while people are feeling bullish.’

‘I don’t want to ask until we have an idea of how well America goes. I think people might start to resent the ten per cent. I don’t want to ask them for more if we can help it.’

‘The people who pay their ten per cent already earn enough not to worry about it. And it helps them feel better about their jobs. About the moral compromises they have to make at work. Knowing that some of the cash will go to helping the Course.’

‘That’s always been the plan. I have meetings in the City all day tomorrow. I might see whether I can’t persuade a few of the bigger donors to reach into their pockets again. If we’re targeting America then we have to do it properly, and that takes obscene amounts of money. The pay-off, though, if we do get it right, will be immense. It’ll take the Course to a whole new level.’

*

When they had finished dinner, the new members were led downstairs into the crypt where the discussions would take place. David and his wife moved between the two groups, entering silently and perching like owls as the conversations developed. The first evening was spent on introductions, an overview of the six weeks ahead, the planting of seeds. The crypt was still very cool, and some of the girls wrapped scarves around long necks, the young men pulled on blazers and jumpers. In the church upstairs the chatter of the old Course members slowly faded as they filed out into the night.

In Marcus and Abby’s group there were five girls: pretty but not strikingly so, just down from university, young and nervous. Four young men sat talking in whispered voices to the girls, staring down at their loafers, ties loosened. Banker boyfriends, Marcus guessed. One of the girls suddenly looked up at Marcus, drawing back her blonde hair with one hand, passing the back of her arm across thin, pale lips. Her eyes were wide and bright and Marcus could see that she was already falling, that she was one of the ones who arrived convinced, and only needed the merest nudge to accept the Course wholeheartedly. An older man in a grey suit sat slightly withdrawn from the rest of the group; Marcus couldn’t tell whether he had moved his chair back, or chosen it because it was set apart from the others. Abby introduced herself, and the discussion began.

*

In the other room, Lee was feeling detached. Her head ached and she missed Darwin. The sense of unease that had fallen upon her in Holland Park the day before hadn’t faded. It was insane that these young, bright people should turn to her for advice, should seek her help with their existential issues. Mouse leapt to his feet, nodded to the room and smiled broadly.

‘Hi! I wanted firstly to thank you for coming. My name is Mouse and this is Lee, a very dear friend of mine. We’ll be your guides over the next six weeks. It’s going to be a brilliant time for you. And I just want to encourage you to open yourselves up. Leave all your cynicism and scepticism at the door and give this a chance. We’re doing this for the first time, too, and while that may mean we don’t know the answers to all of your questions, it does mean that we are very keen to learn, and we’ll do everything we can to make this as transformational an experience for you as it was for us. Isn’t that right, Lee?’

Lee felt as if the room was turning, as if her chair had been moved into the centre of the circle. The faces rotated around her, their grins and frowns distorting grotesquely with the beating of her heart.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Mouse and I will do our best to make this somewhere you feel terribly safe. Make this a place of refuge.’ She gulped air and tried to smile.