Chosen (36 page)

I'd thought I might trump Hannah by sneaking Seth in to see Adam, before she could.
I
wanted to be the one to cause a smile to spread like sunrise over Adam's face. And
I
wanted to be the one to tell Seth that he was Adam's son.
I
wanted to be the one to present him, transformed. He was my nephew, after all, not Hannah's. But once I'd seen him, it was obvious that he couldn't be taken to Adam in that state.

I poured his tea, and watched how he held the cup between his elegant, long-fingered hands – the nails bitten to their beds, just like Stella's – and how the surface of the liquid shivered with the tremble that was going through him.

‘How are you, Seth?' I asked.

‘Not great,' he said.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Dunno.' He was swaying a bit, even seated, thoroughly disorientated. Too disorientated.

‘Are you enjoying the meditations?'

He nodded and sniffed. The flanges of his nostrils quivered. I wanted to hold him. A tear rolled down his cheek, a huge shiny tear that transfixed me as it crawled through the fuzziness on his jaw and disappeared under his chin. I had to rub away the sensation on my own skin.

‘The meditations?' I prompted him. ‘Do you have any questions? You can ask me anything.'

‘Did Mum want me sent
here
?' he said. ‘Did she know what it would be like?' He was having trouble making the words, and then I saw him look at the wall behind me, his eyes flickering back and forth. His lips stretched into a half-smile.

‘What?' I said, and turned to see what he was focusing on, but there was nothing. When I turned back, I saw that he'd gone shuddery and grey.

‘She's there,' he said, extending a finger.

‘Who?'

‘Mum. Stella.'

I froze and then all the surface of my skin began to creep. It was all I could do not to bolt out of that room and leave him with his vision of Stella. He kept looking at the wall, the smile playing on his lips. His eyes looked gone-out.

It's a hallucination
, I told myself.
Stella is not there
,
she is not there
.

‘She's dead,' he said. ‘Is she really dead?'

It seemed to me then that I could feel Stella standing behind me, the cold shape of her shadowing my own shape and causing me to shrink, the blood in my veins to turn to ice. I had to tell him yes. How could I lie to him with her shadow on me? And so I said yes and that's when he had a seizure of some sort, or panic attack, I don't know. He stumbled to his feet and began waving his arms and shouting and then he fell, twitching, to the floor. Maybe it was the drugs – they don't suit everyone – or maybe the short rations, maybe the way he'd been allowed very little sleep at all – Hannah's doing, not mine. I would have been kinder, if I'd stayed in control.
I
wouldn't have tried to rush him through.

I ran out into the corridor for help, and there was Hannah – looking for us, no doubt. But I was glad she was there. And once again I let her take him over. I didn't want to be with him if he could make Stella come. Stella saw our mother after death, and now he saw Stella. And what if he saw, if she was able to tell him, how it had occurred? It wasn't my fault, Dodie, I've told you how it happened with Stella, and I swear on my life that every word is true. But Stella after death? She might say anything.

Seth wasn't safe. Even Hannah agreed that we couldn't continue the Process with him, nor allow him to mix with the other Brethren any longer. Perhaps he was not quite stable anyway? As Stella's son that wouldn't be surprising. Or perhaps it was only the effect of the Process so far, of rushing him. To sabotage a personality takes time and patience. But, anyway, it had to stop. And it had to be broken to Adam that Seth was not, could not be, the next Messiah. Neither Hannah nor I could decide how best to do this. We always found a way to distract or stall him when he asked to see Seth – who was in a peace-pod – while we decided how to go on.

And then, one day as I was sitting by Adam's bed, Hannah came bursting in, without even a knock on the door. Her face was flushed with self-importance.

‘Adam,' she said, disregarding me.

I don't care what was happening, I don't care how ill he was, she should still have called him Our Father; she should still have paused to grasp her thumb.

‘Hannah?' he said.

‘I have such news.' She darted a look at me.

I thought she was going to tell him about Seth and I was puzzled by her excitement.

‘Go on then,' I said.

‘We've had to put Seth in a peace-pod.'

‘Martha?' Adam looked to me for confirmation.

‘I'm sorry,' was all that I could say.

Adam struggled to sit up, his mouth falling open.

‘He's not well,' I said, gently pushing him back against the pillows. ‘He's not mentally strong enough, Adam. We've had to stop the Process.'

‘But I have good news too!' Hannah crowed, leaning forward, getting between us so that her beaming face was pressed almost into his. ‘You have a grandson!'

‘
What?
' I said.

‘Yes! I was talking to Seth this morning about his family and he told me that your daughter' – emphasizing the
your
, of course, to exclude me – ‘has a baby son! Stella had made him promise to never mention the child, but
I
got it out of him.'

I felt the tremor of surprise in Adam's hand.

I was thrown into confusion. Joy, surprise – and fury that it was Hannah who'd brought this news. It should have been me. I should have spent less time beside Adam and more time with Seth, talking to him, getting this confidence out of him. This was
my
family, not Hannah's.

And why hadn't Stella told me she had a grandchild? Did she think she couldn't trust me? What did she think I'd do?

Adam closed his eyes, and we waited and watched and held our breaths. You could actually see the shifting flicker of expressions on his face as he switched his allegiance and his hopes from his son to his grandson. He opened his eyes at last and there was a new bright glaze in them. ‘I am sorry for my son,' he said. ‘But, after all, he is Stella's son. He must be well cared for. And we must bring the infant here. This is where he belongs.' He let go of my hand and hauled himself up in the bed. ‘I must pray for guidance. I must . . .' But he was too breathless to continue.

‘What do we know about the child?' I asked.

‘He's called Jake,' Hannah said. ‘He's about fifteen months old.'

‘
Jacob
,' Adam said, his face relaxing as he exhaled. ‘Praise the Lord.
Jacob
.'

‘I don't understand why Stella didn't tell me – tell us,' I said. But, of course, I did understand. This was just what she didn't want. She didn't want Adam to get his hands on
the child. I thought it odd that she was prepared to give him Seth, yet keep his daughter and his grandson from him. But it turns out that she was wise in this. She was wiser than me.

‘Leave me,' Adam said. His voice was faint. ‘I must think, I must pray.'

Smiling significantly, Hannah went out.

‘Leave me,' Adam repeated.

‘But I will pray with you,' I said. ‘We'll pray for guidance together.'

He closed his eyes. A small mauve vein throbbed at his temple. He sighed. ‘Take me outside,' he said. I didn't think he was well enough to move, but still I helped him dress and held his arm as we walked a step at a time, outside to the back of the building. There's a gate you can unlock there, that leads you to the edge of a wood where there are hundreds of crows' nests in the trees. It was a blazing October day, and my eyes streamed in the brightness. I settled Adam on a folding chair with a blanket around him and another over his knees. The sun shone through the thin strands of his hair and I could see the greasy shine of his scalp, the capillaries in his cheeks, the pores in the skin behind the sparse straggles of his beard. His eyes were on me and I don't like to think about what
he
saw in such remorseless illumination. The scarlet and yellow leaves at his feet were scattered with black feathers, streaks of white and squirrel bones where the birds had recently feasted.

‘Go now,' he said, and closed his eyes. I stood for a few moments, watching, but I could feel him waiting for me to leave, and I obeyed.

I decided that while I was waiting for him, I would go and see Seth for myself, see what he would tell me. I was on my way to him when I was intercepted by Hannah.

‘Where's Adam?' she asked, sharply.

‘
Our Father
is in contemplation,' I said.

‘We must talk, Martha.' Hannah opened the door on to an empty meditation room and more or less shoved me through it. Inside, we stood looking at each other. Though nearing sixty, she was still pretty – not conventionally, with
her pointed nose and snaggly teeth, but there was something about her, about the way the lines worked on her cheeks and around her eyes, and she was slim and straight in her robe. I think vital is the word. But there was such slyness there too, such smugness. I wanted to spit in her eye.

‘I have sent for Adam's daughter and his grandchild,' she said.

‘No.'

‘I got Seth to write, inviting her to come.'

‘
No
.'

In truth, I hadn't made up my mind about this matter until that moment. But Stella didn't want it. And if it was to be done,
I
should have been consulted first. I clenched my teeth to dam the surge of anger.

‘It is too late; the letter has gone. It is in God's hands now,' Hannah said, with a smile that managed to be both pious and triumphant.

‘Very well.'

I got to Adam before she could. He was still praying, a dirty feather clutched between his fingers, a leaf lodged in his hair. I stood waiting until he looked at me and indicated his readiness to move. I helped him up and he leaned on me as we went back inside, where he consented to let me undress him and put him back to bed.

‘Well?' I said, keeping my voice as patient as I could. ‘Did Jesus speak?'

‘My grandson, Jacob, is the saviour,' he murmured, ‘and we must send for him. The sign is in the name.'

In the rustle of the sheets I clearly heard Stella telling me
no
. Telling me to stop this happening. But how could I stop it now? When I opened my eyes Adam was gazing at me intently and I smoothed out my frown. His lower lids had begun to sag away from his eyes, giving him a bloodhound look.

‘Already done,' I said.

‘My love,' he said. I sat and stroked his hand, letting my finger slide into the place that was his thumb, such a soft declivity, sweet to touch and warm and alive and throbbing with a secret pulse.

I had to face the truth then. He was dying. He was an old, deluded animal dragging himself through his last few weeks or even days. I had to be practical; I had to plan. I had to think of myself and of the future. I had to think of Seth and of you, Dodie; and now I had to think of Jake. When Adam went, what then? What would be left for me? Once he was gone, I would be leaving Soul-Life; that much at least was clear.

I would find a doctor and get myself checked over – the breathlessness and the pains in my chest were worrying me, but, of course, even to think this within Soul-Life was blasphemy. I decided I'd buy you a house to make up for the loss of Lexicon Avenue – the profit from which had of course been absorbed into the Soul-Life bank. I did allow myself to dream that one day we might be a family and live together. All I ever really wanted was a family.

Obadiah had taught me enough about the internet and about the financial side of things for me to be able to divert money into a fund of my own – I'd started it back when Adam first became ill. Why shouldn't I be recompensed? I'd worked all my life for Soul-Life and now my love, and that life, was dying. What was I to do?

†

We awaited your arrival. Adam was nervous, agitated, anxious to see his grandson and so, of course, was I. No one could settle while we waited for you to make your decision and then your journey. I was determined it should be me who would welcome you, not Hannah. At last the day arrived. My heart had been fluttering in my chest since early in the morning, but it was afternoon and I was sitting with Adam, reading from the Bible, when Hannah charged in.

‘She's at the gate,' she said. ‘But she hasn't brought the child.'

‘No child?' Adam struggled to a sitting position. The stress brought on the pain in my own chest but I would let
nothing stop me. I hardly cared about Jake just then, I so much wanted to see you. Would you remember me? You were such a little dot when I gave you back to Stella. But still, I hoped you might look into my face and remember something, perhaps just the sensation of being cared for and loved.

I got up and dropped the Bible. ‘I'll go,' I said.

‘What shall we do?' Hannah said. ‘Adam, what shall we do?'

‘Wait. We must pray.'

‘But she's here!' I said. ‘I must go.'

‘Wait.' He gestured to each of us to kneel as he mumbled a prayer.

I couldn't pray; my mind was spinning. You were waiting at the gate. What if you went away? From between my lashes I looked at Hannah to see that she wasn't praying either, but watching me.

‘Martha, you go and greet Dorcas,' Adam said, and I couldn't prevent a little dart of victory towards Hannah. ‘All is not lost. We must persuade her to bring the child.' He closed his eyes again and frowned. It was as if he was having trouble tuning into a channel. ‘You must not tell her you are Stella's sister,' he said.

‘But –'

‘Think what Stella might have told her about you and me!' He opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Telling her might scare her away and then I'll never see my grandson. Welcome her in the parlour.'