The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery) (23 page)

Julius watched her as she paced the floor. She stopped again, and spoke. ‘When I was in the forest — it’s a long story, but a few days ago I found myself in a forest in the middle of the night on my own — and I was scared. It’s a long time since I’ve been so scared. And I saw that it was all fairy-tales, Julius. All this God on Whom we can call in our hour of need — however hard I’d prayed, no one would have come, would they? However strong my faith, in the end I was just on my own. Just me and my fear. And as soon as I’d realised that, it was OK. I just thought, there it is then. My fear. It can’t get worse than that.’ She sat down next to him on the bed.

Julius thought for a moment, then said, ‘But is it worth attacking our faith for something it isn’t?’

‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

‘You don’t need to have the fairy-tales. You can have all the twentieth century existentialist stuff instead, you can have Pascal at times, or St Ignatius himself.’ He gently leaned over and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. ‘After all, Agnes, what are you without your faith?’

‘But Julius, that’s just the point. I don’t know any more.’

‘Maybe Yorkshire will help.’

‘That’s what Madeleine said.’ Agnes got up to make some tea.

Later, as he was going, Julius said, ‘What your order asks of you, and what God asks of you, might not be the same thing. We can’t know the mind of God. What I mean is,’ he said, as they stood in the middle of her room and he took both her hands, ‘that you might as well accept all this for what it is.’

‘So if I fling myself under a bulldozer tomorrow and get six months in prison, you won’t blame me?’ she smiled. 

‘No. But I’ll miss you.’ He kissed her on both cheeks and then was gone.

*

Agnes’s alarm woke her at four thirty in the morning. It was still just dark, a lingering charcoal blue. She set off along empty roads, driving fast, and at five twenty was parked outside Mike Reynolds’s house in Harlow, her lights still on, wondering whether to use her horn. Before she had to, the front door opened noiselessly, and Sam was running down the drive and piling, giggling, into the car.

‘He won’t forgive you,’ she laughed.

‘No,’ Agnes said, starting the engine and pulling away fast. Once they’d cleared Mike’s street, Agnes said, ‘So — this Emily Quislan?’

She saw Sam tense at the name. ‘Who?’ Sam muttered.

‘You know.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Sam, why aren’t you scared to go back to the camp now? After Becky and now Col, and at the time you were terrified of someone —’

‘It’s over now, OK? I don’t want to talk about it.’

Agnes braked hard. The car squealed to a halt. ‘I’ve had enough, OK?’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

Sam sucked in her cheeks and looked out of the window.

‘I can turn right round and hand you back to Mike.’ Sam turned from the window, fiddled with her bracelet. ‘Sam — what do you know about Emily Quislan?’

She looked up. ‘She was just a girl they knew. I never met her.’

‘So why were you so scared?’ 

‘She’d threatened Col, he said. And Becks. They were scared of her.’

‘But not you.’

‘No. Can we go now? I don’t want to miss nothin’.’

‘And so you have every reason to think this girl you never met killed both your friends?’

‘Nah, not really. I don’t know nothin’ no more.’

‘Sam, what did they say about her?’

Sam sighed. ‘It was all about some plan or somethin’, and when they wanted out she was really angry, they said. And Col had to get this stuff for ’er, which he did, but he was still scared of her.’

‘What stuff?’

‘Dunno, chemicals an’ that. There’s no point lookin’ at me like I’m lyin’. That’s all I know, OK?’

‘Sam, why the hell didn’t you say all this before?’

‘’Cos I thought she might get me too. And anyway, that’s all I know. It’s nothin’, is it?’

‘Do you think she killed them?’

Sam stared at her lap, her fingers working the bracelet round and round her wrist. At last she looked up, and her eyes were full of tears. ‘Even if she did — there’s nothing I can do, is there? I can tell the pigs what I just told you, but it won’t fuckin’ bring them two back, will it?’

‘But —’ Agnes began, but could think of no answer. She started the car again, and they drove to Sheila’s. Sheila and Lily were subdued, and the four drove in silence to the camp.

At ten past six, Agnes parked her car well out of the way behind the church, and they all set off up the hill to the Ark. 

There was a taut stillness in the air. Huge banners fluttered from the trees, magical webs of brightly coloured rags made star shapes between the branches in the early sunshine. Zak emerged from his bender, nodded sleepily at the four and wandered towards the trees, Dog at his heels. A jangling from the trees above them signalled the descent of Rona, Jeff and Paz.

‘Oh, well, no dawn raid so far,’ Jeff said.

‘They’ll be mustering, though,’ Rona said. Below them, two black cars snaked along the lane towards the woods, then parked. People were emerging from benders now, rubbing their eyes. Jenn was stoking up the fire. Everyone paused as a bright orange van bumped its way up the track, parking right by the first bender.

‘Declan,’ Jeff said.

‘Done the music,’ said a young man, getting out of the van. ‘Leccy should be on now.’

Jeff and Declan ran to the woods, and a few moments later music pounded from beyond the trees, a rhythmic beat that brought the few remaining sleepers from their benders.

People were busy now, some up in the trees, some carrying equipment into strategic places in the woods.

‘By tonight,’ Rona sighed, surveying the camp, ‘who knows.’

‘I’ll be back in a while,’ Agnes said, checking her watch.

She strode back down the hill to her car and drove up to Richard Witham’s spring. She was met at the gate by a security guard with an Alsatian dog.

‘Is Mr Witham here, by any chance?’ she asked, smiling sweetly. 

‘’E’s asleep in the office. Who shall I say?’

‘Sister Agnes,’ she said.

‘S’cuse the informality,’ Richard said, two minutes later, gesturing to the bedclothes piled around his desk. ‘At least I’m not in pyjamas,’ he grinned.

‘Any news?’

‘All’s quiet. Nothing. Not since the fluorescein. And that’s washing out now. Beginning to think I can get rid of these boys.’

‘I wouldn’t just yet. I think something might happen soon. Are you still checking the fence?’

‘Yes, every day. That’s been the same too.’

‘Well, let me know if anything changes. I must go now.’

She parked by the church again, and walked back up the hill. She could see a group of policemen standing by the kitchen bender. Rona came up to her.

‘It’s getting heavy. A rumour’s gone round that we’ve been nicking explosives.’

‘Why do they think that?’

‘Dunno, some raid on a quarry near Colchester, loads of stuff gone missing.’

‘Great,’ Jeff said, joining them. ‘They can search the place if they want, they won’t find anything.’

‘It’ll mean a heavy presence when they do arrive.’

Jeff frowned and wandered back to the fire. The police went back to their cars and drove away.

People began to arrive from the village, a video team, a couple of journalists, local supporters, until about forty or fifty people were gathered on the ground. Gradually the tree-dwellers disappeared upwards, and Paz, Jenn, Rona, Jeff were joined by crowds of others, all taking up their places in the tree-houses and platforms. On the ground people ran to positions, locked themselves to concrete stumps, chained themselves to tree-trunks. Agnes watched the battle lines form, the numbers swell as people continued to arrive. The tension was palpable, as all activity slowed and then ceased, reduced to a silence, a collective waiting. The music started up again, but its pulsing seemed to add to the sense of dislocation.

‘They’re here,’ Sam breathed, standing close to Agnes. Everyone was staring down the hill towards the village. From the shadows of the trees in the valley a phalanx of vehicles took shape, a row of police riot vans, followed by a bulldozer and a cherry picker crane, and then a line of lorries loaded with fencing equipment, windscreens glinting, creeping anonymously up the hill. Agnes was aware of her heart racing. She looked across to Sheila. Lily was standing next to her with another girl, and some way behind them she saw, to her surprise, Steven and Jerry. Lily turned and caught their eye, then looked back at the approaching convoy. From the trees someone started up a shout, and this was echoed across the camp, in time with the music’s beat, until the riot vans shuddered to a halt and spilt out their cargo of police, all wearing dark jackets and white hard hats, all advancing on foot to the benders.

And then, very quickly, the advancing army was upon them, grabbing people where they stood, moving them away from the benders. ‘I’m asking you to leave,’ someone said to Agnes as she felt her arm gripped and she was propelled with some force away from the camp. She turned back to look for Sam, but was threatened with arrest and once more removed. She could see the bulldozer sliding across the camp now, the crane juddering against a tree; bailiffs appeared with fencing and began to make a cordon, and Agnes found herself outside, surrounded by shouting, abuse, people running, no longer able to see Sheila, or Sam or Lily.

‘Damn,’ she shouted, above the pumping music, the engine noise. She ran round the fence, to see Jenn being carried out and dumped on the ground, only to jump up and run back through, heading for the trees. A group of people had climbed on to the bulldozer. Above them, Agnes could see Jeff climbing higher and higher into the branches, away from the cherry picker platform that was clumsily attempting to follow him. Rona scuttled across a walkway, pursued by a climber. And there was Jenn, back up in the trees.

Another shout, and Paz seemed to swoop out of the sky, attached to the abseil rope against his will by a climber. He landed badly, swore, tried to get up but was carried out by three policemen. Agnes caught sight of Sam, running towards the bulldozer, climbing on to it, only to be thrown off forcibly by a heavily-built security guard. Agnes cried out as Sam lay in the mud, and began to run towards her, trying to dodge through the fence, only to meet a line of police in her way, her face brushed by the fabric of their jackets.

‘Sam,’ she yelled, then lost sight of her again as she was forced to retreat. And now the atmosphere grew uglier. There was the constant buzz of saws as protesters were cut away from their lock-ons, there were screams, someone was dragged from a tree and dropped heavily on the ground. Some of the people standing watching were crying, some were shouting angrily, trying to get back through the fence to help the injured. A young man sat dazed by the fence, blood dripping from a head wound, until someone helped him up and moved him away to safety. Agnes could see security guards grabbing people with bone-crunching force, there were yells and shouts and sobbing. More people were climbing on to the bulldozer, but now the battle was for real. The bulldozer started up, inching towards the benders, throwing its attackers off as it crawled forward like some primordial beast. People slid down and fell into the mud under its wheels, and then someone was there pulling them out, dragging them to safety, going back to rescue someone else. Agnes saw, with a shock, that it was Bill.

Sheila appeared at her side, breathless. ‘Have you seen Lily?’ she asked.

‘No, have you seen Sam?’

Both women stood, nervous and frightened, staring helplessly at the scene before them.

‘Oh, God, they’ve got Rona,’ Agnes gasped, seeing, on the highest walkway, a climber grab her and somehow attach her harness to his own, and then she was whirled off the walkway and down the abseil rope. Bill was there as she hit the ground, but she shook herself off and scaled the next tree. Then Bill was surrounded by three police officers and thrown out of the cordoned area.

‘Bill,’ she shouted. ‘Sam — have you seen her …?’ Her voice was lost in the music and the shouting and the constant grinding engine noise, and now there was a new noise, the sound of chainsaws, and everyone’s attention went to the furthest tree. At first nothing happened, just a trembling in its topmost branches, then a quaking down to the roots, echoing the onlookers terror as they heard the wrenching crack and the tree toppled, falling with a resounding crash away from the camp towards the woods.

Agnes felt sick with fear. All she could hear was abuse, swearing, screams of rage and terror, and now the police were beginning to arrest anyone they found inside the cordon, and Agnes could see people being thrown into vans. A boy staggered across the mud, clutching at his arm, crying, and then he, too, was grabbed and forced into a van. She could bear it no longer, and ran, instinctively, into the woods, away from the battle. The noise grew more distant, but the quiet that surrounded her as she ventured further into the woods seemed temporary, a moment’s peace before the final onslaught.

Through the trees she saw movement. She watched. It was Steven, slipping silently away from the battle. She followed at a distance, hoping that Lily was with him. At least she’d be safer here, Agnes thought. She watched him pause by a tree-stump, then pace three careful steps to a line of chequered tape, all that was left of the site where Becky was found. He knelt in the middle of the patch of mud. Agnes could hear his voice, and realised he was praying. After a while he got up, and stood, his face raised to the sky, his cheeks wet with tears. Agnes retreated further away. The sun was beating down now, but she felt suddenly cold. Freezing cold. There was nothing to say that Lily was safe at all.