The Revelations (24 page)

When Marcus got home he took a bath in the silent flat and pulled on his dressing gown. It was barely dark, but the events of the previous few weeks had left him exhausted. He flicked through a series of mindless programmes on the television before selecting one at random and drifting off to sleep. When he woke, the room was dark save the flickering screen and Darwin was licking his face. He dressed and took the dog for a walk up Portobello Road. When he got back, David Nightingale was standing in front of the block of flats, pressing the buzzer repeatedly.

‘Hello, David.’

The priest turned to watch as Marcus came down the steps towards him.

‘Can I come in? We need to talk.’ The priest’s tone was curt. Marcus could see bags like yellow-grey oysters under the older man’s eyes.

They travelled up in the lift together in silence. Darwin sniffed at David’s trouser leg, whining, until the priest lifted him up and scratched him behind the ear. Marcus let them into the flat.

‘Ah, nostalgia,’ he said, seeing the photographs that Marcus had left strewn across the dining table, the boxes piled beside it. ‘Be careful, Marcus. It can do funny things to you, too much recollection.’

‘It was Abby. I need to clear them up. Do you want a drink?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. What I have to say won’t take long.’ The priest sat down on the edge of the sofa, his knees drawn together, his hands over his kneecaps.

‘This isn’t an easy time for any of us,’ David began. ‘Sally and I’ve been terribly upset by what happened to Lee. I believe you know about her diaries.’

Marcus nodded.

‘I sent Abby away for her own good. She needs to be doing something useful just now. And she needs you to be here for her when she comes back.’ David cleared his throat.

‘I understand you two have been having some troubles. Abby didn’t tell me exactly what, but I got the general idea. The Course will survive Lee. It is a shame and – if she is indeed dead – it is a tragedy, but the Course is resilient enough to deal with this. What I won’t allow is for one girl’s depression, regrettable as that may be, to infect the whole group.’ He stood up and began to pace up and down the room.

‘You must understand that the Course is about leading by example, it is about aspiration, about people wanting to better themselves. I am the model for scores of priests across the country, around the world. They watch the DVD, they read
The Way
of the Pilgrim
, they see pictures of St Botolph’s on a Sunday morning turning worshippers away because the church is so popular. They want that. The Course leaders fulfil a similar role within each Course. People look up to you, Marcus. You may not realise it, but the twins idolise you. The girls in your group hang on to your every word. I had Neil in my study the other day telling me that he thought you should take holy orders. You are a young man, with all the worries and troubles that a young man has. But you are also a senior member of my church, the church which is the centre of the Course, the church to which all others aspire.’ He stopped pacing and looked down at Marcus.

‘I’m not sure I want all that,’ said Marcus quietly.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know if I want to be a senior member of your church, David. I don’t know whether I can live up to what you expect of me. I never felt about it in quite the same way as the others. I believe in God. I’m pretty sure that I believe in God. I just don’t know if I believe everything that goes with it.’

‘So what are you saying, exactly?’

‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know anything at the moment. One of my best friends may be dead. Everyone is talking about her suddenly as if she’s dead and yet there’s no body, no real explanation of how or why she died. My wife is three thousand miles away and won’t answer my calls. I’m sorry, David, I just need some time to think.’

The priest knelt down in front of Marcus and laid a hand on his arm.

‘I understand, I really do. If we don’t question our actions sometimes, then we find ourselves leading our lives on
autopilot
, and we can never achieve fulfilment. Take some time, but remember that we need you. The people at St Botolph’s love and need you so very much.’

David stood up and walked down the corridor to the doorway. Marcus followed him.

‘I’ve big plans for you, Marcus,’ David said over his shoulder. ‘You must remember that no other Christian movement has the money, the connections, the marketing savvy of the Course. We are going to be a global brand before long, and we’ll need smart people like you to run it. Keep strong. Things will get better, you’ll see.’

When the priest was gone, Marcus microwaved a bowl of minestrone and sat down at the dining table. He cleared a space for his bowl among the photographs and began to flick idly through them as he ate. He had taken more photographs at university than he did once he was in London. He smiled at photos of the four friends. They looked so young back then. Mouse and Lee seemed like children in the pictures. He couldn’t believe that he and Abby had been so fresh-faced, so innocent. He noticed how close they all seemed: not just the four of them, but all of their friends from university. There had been so many of them, so many friends left behind once the Course became the most important thing in their lives.

Daffy was in almost all of the photographs from that
period
. Marcus remembered how the mouthy, energetic Welsh boy had followed them around, had always been the last one drinking at the college bar, an ever-dependable companion for pub crawls or spontaneous trips to seedy nightclubs in town. Marcus had tried to keep in touch with him once they moved to London: he had come to the wedding and they still exchanged occasional emails, but Marcus knew that Daffy felt excluded by the prominence of the Course in their lives. He thought he should probably call Daffy and tell him about Lee. He found the number on his phone and dialled it.

‘Hello.’ Daffy was in a pub. Marcus could hear fruit machines and music and people shouting to be heard at the bar.

‘Daffy. It’s Marcus Glass.’

‘Hold on.’ Marcus heard Daffy move through the bar and then outside. ‘Sorry, it’s carnage in there. Is that you Marcus? Brilliant to hear from you, man. How are you?’

‘I’m OK. Listen, would you like to meet up? I mean, I know I’ve been rubbish at keeping in touch, but I wondered if you’d like to hook up for a drink?’

‘Of course. It’d be great to see you.’

‘What about Saturday?’

‘Day after tomorrow? Sure, why not? I have a thing later on, but we could get together about seven if that works.’ He named a pub in Shoreditch.

‘Yes. Great. See you then.’

Marcus fed Darwin and sat back down at the table. He started to look through the pile of pictures of Lee, realising that Abby had arranged them chronologically, so that he watched his friend age as he thumbed through them. He saw her blue-green eyes lose a little of their naughtiness, saw her face grow thinner and her hair more blonde. And in each photograph the unmatched earrings, one blue, one turquoise, which she had told him once had been a present from her first real boyfriend. She had left the boy behind in Suffolk, but continued to wear the earrings, pleased with the disconcerted glances they provoked and the way they brought out the colour of her eyes.

He went back to the beginning of the pile, preferring to see Lee when she was at her best: young and wicked-looking. He came to a photograph of the band on stage. Lee was standing up at her keyboard, her head thrown to the side so that her hair shot out horizontally. Abby was beside her, the two girls singing into one microphone. Marcus had his head down and was pounding his guitar, while Mouse grinned, slightly out of focus, in the background. The photo had been taken at a college ball. It was still early in the party and dusk was falling behind the stage. The band’s name had changed several times during their university years. He thought at this point it had been Edwin and the Droods.

It was the first college ball they had played, and they had all been nervous, but so many of their friends were in the audience, and the band looked so young and happy that the reception was rapturous. People had been drinking for a few hours and the band played songs that everyone loved, songs that people knew how to dance to. Marcus remembered looking down and seeing couples with their arms around each other as he and Abby took turns singing the verses of a song that had been a hit several years earlier. People were kissing and laughing and getting drunk in the day’s last light. The band had come off stage to a riot of applause and delighted revellers had bought them drinks all evening.

At the end of the night, Marcus had to carry Abby back to their college draped over his shoulder. He tucked her up in her bed and then Lee and Mouse followed him over to his room. He switched on the desk light and opened a bottle of wine. Lee lolled in an armchair, a cigarette hanging from her lips. Marcus called Daffy and some other friends who had been out clubbing in town. They turned up carrying bottles of beer and vodka and someone started rolling joints on Marcus’s desk. Mouse put on a CD and people began to dance in the corners of the room. Marcus crossed the quadrangle to check on Abby. She had kicked the duvet onto the floor and was snoring loudly. He draped the cover back over her and placed a kiss on her clammy forehead. She moaned in her sleep and rolled over.

When he went back into his room, more people had turned up. He didn’t recognise some of them, but Daffy threw an arm around his shoulder and yelled: ‘It’s OK. They’re with me’ in his ear. Mouse was involved in a drinking game that Marcus could already see he was losing. His shirt was wet with beer and he kept tilting backwards on his heels, very nearly toppling over. Lee was still sitting in the armchair, coolly surveying the party. Marcus crouched in front of her and she reached over and tousled his hair. He smiled up at her.

‘You were amazing tonight.’ Marcus took one of her cigarettes and lit it. Her skirt was hitched up around her thighs and he placed his hands on her thin legs. Lee giggled.

‘I really enjoyed it,’ she said. ‘It’s so fun to be up there with you guys.’ She leaned towards him and spoke in a whisper. ‘Listen, I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the fridge outside my room. If no one’s nicked it, do you want to go and drink some?’

They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and Lee took the bottle from the fridge. They went into her room and sat down on the bed. It was always a mess in there: books everywhere, face-down or piled in corners awaiting her attention. Clothes were strewn across the floor, dropped where she took them off. Lee created extraordinarily complicated essay plans in many different shades of ink. When she was done with them she used them to wallpaper one side of the room. Marcus leaned back against a plan that seemed to be dealing with
Ancrene Wisse
and the contemplative life. Lee opened the champagne and clamped her mouth over the neck of the bottle to stop it fizzing over.

Marcus couldn’t remember what they had talked about as they drank. He did remember Lee crossing to the window and looking out. The view from her room was extraordinary: across the roofs of the town to the first traces of dawn in the east. Marcus came up behind her and put his arms around her. She swigged from the champagne and then held the bottle up. Marcus put his lips over it and she tilted the bottle as he gulped. She turned to face him. A gentle breeze came through the window smelling of mown grass. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She sniggered. He leaned forward again, running his hands down her sides. He kissed her other cheek and then tried to find her lips. She turned her head away.

‘This is naughty.’

Marcus picked up the bottle and went back to the bed. Lee looked over at him. Very slowly, she crossed her room and sat down next to him. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him on the lips. Marcus stood up and took her in his arms and this time she pressed her pelvis against his and forced her tongue into his mouth. Marcus pulled her skirt up so that it sat around her waist and then slipped his fingers into her pants. He eased his middle finger into her. Someone knocked on the door.

‘Lee? Marcus? Are you guys in there? Tell me you aren’t drinking the champagne I gave you, Lee? That was for us to share.’

Abby walked into the room as Marcus and Lee sprang apart. Lee struggled to pull her skirt back down around her thighs. Abby looked blearily at them.

‘Oh, you are here. And you are drinking the bloody champagne. I woke up with a stinking headache and I really fancied some proper booze. Is there any left?’

Lee handed it to her.

‘I’m still really very pissed,’ Abby said, slumping down on the bed. ‘But this is delicious.’

As soon as possible Marcus had guided the girls downstairs to the party.

He was woken from his memories by his phone. He thought it might be Abby and so he rushed to find the bleating machine. It was in a pocket somewhere and he almost missed it.

‘Hello Marcus?’ It was a man’s voice. ‘Detective Inspector Farley here. Listen, I know it’s a bit late, but do you think I might drop by? I go past you on my way home and I just wanted a quick chat.’

‘Of course.’

The policeman arrived twenty minutes later. Marcus heard him pull up outside and buzzed him in. Farley accepted the
offer
of a drink and they sat on the sofa sipping a beer together.

‘I’m sorry for being so late. It’s almost ten o’clock, isn’t it? You know when the day just seems to get away from you?’

Marcus took a swig of his beer.

‘We have made no progress with Lee. She’s not on any of the cameras at Banbury Station. We have her driving into town at about ten to five in the morning – one of the cameras that they use for traffic control picked her up – but nothing after that. It seems she disappeared somewhere in Banbury.’

‘I suppose you’ve looked into whether there might be anyone she knows there, someone who might be putting her up while she gets her head together?’

‘It was one of the things I was going to ask you. You’ve heard about the diaries, I suppose?’

‘Yes.’