Twelve Days Read online

  I crept out of the front door and braced myself against the icy wind. My plan was to find a path down to examine the body. But as soon as I stepped outside I could see how futile this was. Snow had blanketed the road and I could not see where to step. The edge of the cliff was treacherous, a sheer drop down the mountainside. I peered over the edge and the ground fell away into thick mist. If I was to climb down here, I would have to wait until the mist cleared. I could not even see the body. This was going to take a helicopter, paramedics, and it would be a dangerous operation. The snow flurries attacked me, the biting wind cut into me, and I began shivering violently. I tried to reassure myself that Glen was not lying alive and in pain, waiting for rescue – he must have died instantly, or if he was still alive after impact, after all that debris had smashed into him, he would have died from exposure.

  I trudged back inside, discarded my sodden clothes, took a hot shower and dressed in dry clothes. This was not a simple accident. Not with Glen’s belongings strewn all over the room. Someone had been in his room – a late-night visitor, and some struggle, a fight had occurred.

  Pity I had not been at the scene first. I only had Stephen’s word for what had happened. I had noted those glances between Reverend James and Stephen. Linda. Even Suzanne. This smelt of conspiracy.

  A knock on the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts. I dressed quickly and opened the door to find Stephen’s pale face staring at me. ‘Rafe, Reverend James has some news. We need to all meet downstairs.’

  Mike, Danny, Stephen and Reverend James stood in front of the crackling fire in the living room. I heard the women in the kitchen making breakfast.

  Reverend James called me into the huddle. ‘I have prayed about this, and God has given us an answer. We need to sit tight through the storm, and when the road can be made passable, the police will get to us.’

  I stared at him. ‘Have you contacted the police?’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that, Rafe,’ said Reverend James. ‘During my prayers, a peace came upon me, a small, still voice telling me to trust God.’

  ‘There’s a body freezing over in our front yard–’

  ‘Let us pray.’ The men closed their eyes, bowed their heads, raised their hands up to the ceiling. I folded my arms, stared at them. ‘All eyes closed, heads bowed,’ said Reverend James. ‘Be still and know that I am the Lord. Heavenly Father, help Rafe now accept Thy will.’

  I slammed my fist against the wall. ‘I can’t believe this. Excuse me, Reverend James, but a man has died and praying is not, in my view, going to help anyone at this point.’

  Reverend James remained in prayer pose, ignoring me. Stephen opened his eyes, placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘All things work together for good to those who love God.’

  ‘He will take care of everything,’ said Reverend James. ‘We just need to stay put.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ I said under my breath.

  Our prayer session counsel was interrupted by a scream from the dining area from one of the women. ‘Reverend James, come here quick!’

  We turned to see the four women hunched over Glen’s place setting. Reverend James ran over to them. We followed. Alison stepped back to let Reverend James see. ‘I was about to set the table for breakfast when…’

  The envelope containing Glen’s secret symbol was open. The slip of paper inside, a picture of two turtle doves, was torn right down the middle. Two words had been scribbled on each piece of torn paper: Old Testament. New Testament.

  Alison looked up at the Reverend, who had gone grey. ‘What does it mean, Reverend?’

  Reverend James pressed his fingers into his eyes. ‘Dear Lord, today is Boxing Day, the second day of Christmas.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Alison.

  ‘On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtle doves,’ he reminded us. ‘Two turtle doves signify the Old and New Testaments.’

  Suzanne said what everyone was thinking. ‘Did he… do this? Before he died?’

  ‘He must have,’ said Reverend James. ‘He solved his riddle of the second day of Christmas.’

  ‘Was he trying to tell us something?’ Suzanne pressed her fingers to her lips. I could not help but feel that she was acting. Even if she was genuine, there was no way of telling.

  This note had been staged. Premeditated.

  Linda tugged on her husband’s sleeve. He nodded. ‘Let’s eat.’

  We took our allocated places, Reverend James mumbled grace, and we helped ourselves to bacon, eggs, sausages and toast. I ate without appetite, staring at each woman in turn.

  Alison was crying. ‘Poor Glen,’ she kept saying.

  Linda looked whiter than ever, and was stony silent with thin lips. ‘My God, my God.’

  Suzanne stared across at an empty chair and a torn envelope.

  One of you was with Glen last night. One of you knows something.

  Emily gave me a quick look. We need to talk, her eyes said.

  ‘What do you make of it all, Reverend?’ said Mike.

  Reverend James finished his mouthful of egg and wiped his lips with a napkin. ‘He was just doing what I wanted you all to do – solve the mystery of the twelve days of Christmas. Each of your designated days is a riddle. Glen solved his. It was unrelated to his death.’

  I watched his trembling hands. His eyes. He was lying. And he could feel my scrutiny. He spoke to the group but kept glancing at me. ‘I had planned on revealing each day of Christmas and talking about its significance, but this has made me stronger in my resolve to do it. To honour Glen, we will continue. Today, on the second day of Christmas, I was going to give a sermon on the two turtle doves, the significance of the Old and New Testaments. How the New Testament fulfils the Old–’

  I clattered the knife and fork on the table. Pushed my plate away. ‘This is unbelievable.’

  He ignored me. The others listened intently. ‘The centre of Christmas is Christ, and the second foundation on which our faith rests is the Bible, the two turtle doves, signifying the Holy Spirit descending on us, giving us understanding of its truths. The Old and New Testaments are twin voices of truth from God, speaking of both his wrath and his love. Meditate on this truth. God has commanded it. He wants us to take this seriously.’

  As the Reverend droned on, I watched Suzanne. She worried her bottom lip with her top teeth, as she had done when she was young. She fidgeted, threw worried looks at the Reverend, and when she caught my eye, made a silent plea with her lips.

  Reverend James’ sermons had always been absurd and illogical, but until I prised myself out of his narrow world view by taking philosophy at college, I had been under his spell. Everything is in God’s hands, he was assuring us; He has a plan which we cannot understand, so all we have to do is trust and obey. Happy the man who puts his trust in the Lord! Never fear! Not a doubt or a fear, not a sigh or a tear can abide while we trust and obey. For twenty minutes I listened to the Reverend preach, watched the others sit meekly like sheep, as if our comrade’s body was not lying stiff in the blizzard. No one had even suggested they try to get help. Although I wanted to walk out, I sat there, not to listen to his moralising but to watch everyone closely.

  After the sermon, the women cleared the plates away and washed the dishes in the kitchen. I pulled Emily towards the corridor. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  She followed me up the steps and along the corridor in the men’s quarters. ‘I thought we were not– It’s dangerous in the tower.’

  ‘You can always go back.’

  She squeezed my arm.

  We climbed the short flight of steps, but found that Glen’s door was locked.

  ‘Didn’t Reverend James lock it?’ she said. ‘Or Stephen?’

  ‘Why would they lock it?’

  ‘What did you want to see in there?’

  ‘I wanted to look at that balcony again. And see if the cell phon
es are really all gone.’

  ‘We can’t now.’

  I peered into the dimly lit corridor. I thought I saw something move in the shadows, but when I looked again I saw only a spidery corner. ‘I saw Glen last night after you all went to bed. He was with a woman.’

  ‘What?’

  I nodded. ‘Right here in the corridor outside his room. Exactly where we’re standing now. They were talking, arguing even. They went into his room, he locked the door, and I waited for her to come out. She didn’t. So I went to bed. She must have sneaked back to the women’s side before he went out on the balcony and fell.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Or she was here when he… fell.’

  We both contemplated the possibilities. She left before the accident happened; she was there to witness it but then snuck out; or… or…

  ‘Was anyone missing from the women’s side when you went to bed?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  She punched my arm. ‘Don’t interrogate me. We’re allies here, remember? If we’re a team, we have to trust each other. No secrets.’

  ‘Sorry. But the philosopher in me has to follow every argument. Examine every premise.’

  ‘Yes, professor.’

  She wrapped her pinkie around mine. ‘Swear to tell me everything. Blood brother and sister.’

  I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, closing my eyes, trying to push a headache away. ‘Sorry, Em, of course I trust you. But this is all a little weird.’

  ‘More than weird. What do you think happened here?’

  ‘Nothing makes sense. But my gut instinct tells me that this was not accidental.’

  Gut instinct, intuition: shorthand for a very complex process that occurs in our brains. Intuition is not a mystical sixth sense but a computation of millions of bits of data our brain has received about a person or a situation, and the processing, calculations and sum of all this information gives us a ‘feeling’ about this person or situation that was as accurate as any mathematical calculation or tested scientific hypothesis. ‘I mean, he calls us up into his room to specifically warn us about something. We stand on the balcony with him–’

  ‘We all could have been killed.’

  ‘He tears the two turtle doves card in half to show James that he gets his silly Christmas game. He meets some woman before he goes to bed. Argues with her. And then tragedy happens. An accident. But his shit is strewn all over the mountainside. The cell phones are conveniently gone.’

  ‘Conveniently.’

  ‘As if he threw them off himself. Or someone else did. The woman in his room.’

  ‘Shhh!’

  I heard the footsteps before I saw the silhouette in the corridor behind us.

  ‘Rafe… and is that you, Emily?’

  ‘Stephen!’

  ‘What are you guys doing here?’

  ‘Who locked Glen’s door?’ I asked him.

  ‘I did. It’s not safe to be here. If the balcony railing broke, who knows what else is going to give way. Reverend James’ instructions.’

  ‘We wanted to see if we could find any cell phones or devices.’

  ‘I told you there are none. I checked.’

  I wondered how much Stephen had heard of our conversation.

  ‘Come, Rafe, Emily. Reverend James wants us all to stick together. And it’s nearly lunchtime.’

  No one had an appetite at lunch either. Glen’s place at the table had been set, as if we were expecting him to show up. Reverend James launched into a sermon about bringing sheep back into the fold. The sermon was targeted at me. And Emily. And maybe Suzanne. The non-believers.

  Suzanne nodded at some points he made, the whole time checking her reflection in the wall mirror. And the men stared too at her, gave furtive glances to hide the fact that Reverend James’ words could not compete with the goddess in their midst. Even in the midst of a tragedy, she commanded everyone’s attention. Linda and Alison were no better. Nostrils flared in high dudgeon as they examined her every move. Only Emily seemed immune, her eyes resting on me.

  We were trapped by more than the blizzard. And in my case, also by my own curiosity. The ghoulish nature of the death, the rage and injustice of the cover-up. I should at least try to raise the alarm, as soon as the blizzard eases. For now I would stay and figure this out.

  Reverend James persisted with his sermon. ‘Nothing is accidental. Nothing happens without Him knowing. But Satan is prowling around like a lion, seeking whom he may devour.’ And his gaze fell on me.

  ‘Satan?’ repeated Alison.

  The Reverend’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t fear, Alison. Satan has no power over us.’ He laid his hand on his Bible.

  ‘And what about those who don’t believe in Satan?’ I could not resist asking.

  Alison shot me a look. I stared her down. Reverend James, however, locked eyes on me and smiled. But behind his smile was a dark threat. ‘Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish,’ he said. ‘Luke 13, verse 1.’

  I chewed on the leftover pernice. Mopped up the gravy with my roll, matched his stare.

  Emily put a restraining hand on my arm. ‘What are you saying, Reverend James?’

  He kept his voice low, but I could tell he was losing his patience. He was not a man to be questioned. ‘Not me, not what I am saying but what the Bible, God’s word, is saying.’ Reverend James reached into his pocket and retrieved a book that looked a thousand years old. The leather binding was raw and the edging had been eaten. Always the showman, he raised it in the air and waited until he had everyone’s attention before continuing. ‘Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.’ He opened the book at a place mark. ‘On the second day of Christmas, St Stephen was martyred.’

  At his name, Stephen looked startled, as if caught in the act. Reverend James paused to measure the effect of his words.

  ‘Martyrdom,’ he repeated. ‘Which is why we now call it the Feast of St Stephen. Like the carol–’

  Emily cut in, singing the beginning of the carol. ‘Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephen–’

  I nudged her to stop, and the Reverend chose to ignore her intended impertinence. ‘Correct. St Stephen was one of the first ordained deacons of the Church and the first Christian martyr.’

  He brandished the book in the air, leaned on the table as if it were a pulpit. ‘And if you have read Acts 7, you will know how he died.’

  Danny raised his hand. ‘He was stoned to death.’

  ‘Yes. On the second day of Christmas, he was buried in rocks. Crushed to death.’

  Alison held her hand over her mouth. Linda pushed back violently in her chair as if she had been shoved.

  I refused to react to his histrionics. ‘What are you saying? Logically.’

  Reverend James placed the book on the table, rested his hand upon it. ‘In God’s world, nothing happens by chance.’

  Utter bullshit, I wanted to say. Most things happen by chance. Yes, there is causal determinism, the idea that every event is caused by another, according to the laws of nature, but this was not what Reverend James meant. He meant that every event in the universe was approved of and orchestrated by God, be it a massacre, an earthquake or car accident. And now Glen’s death. ‘You’re saying that God arranged some huge, meaningful coincidence here to match your Foxe’s Book of Martyrs?’

  Reverend James closed his eyes and placed his fingertips together. Spoke to the blackness. ‘There are no accidents in God’s world. All is foreseen, designed.’

  I blew out of my mouth in exasperation. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ I appealed to the shocked faces around the table. ‘Surely none of you believe this is part of some non-existent God’s plan?’

  But by their glazed look back at me, I gathered that they did. Reverend James’ bald head gleamed in the light. ‘God “worketh all things after the counsel of His own will: That we should be to the praise of his glory.” Ephesians 1, 11 to 12.’

  ‘Amen,�
� chorused Mike, Danny, Alison and Linda.

  My words had fallen into an abyss. I stared out the far window. The falling snow was relentless. By now Glen’s body would be completely buried, and impossible to find.

  ‘Listen up, people,’ said Reverend James, clapping his hands together. ‘It is time for us to meditate on our sins. Write down your confession on the pieces of paper I gave you. Be honest. No one will see them but God.’

  There was no way I was spending my afternoon compiling a list of my sins. I made a plan. I gathered my winter wear and returned to the lounge. The weather had not cleared, but at least there was enough light for me to find my way to the edge. If we had no way of communicating with the outside world, I should at least find my way down to the body. I didn’t want to be charged with gross negligence. Or not reporting a dead body. Or obstruction of justice. But more than that, I didn’t want to be part of this God conspiracy, this lack of agency. I had had enough of that.

  Alison and Linda banged around in the kitchen, and Emily joined them to sort out the evening meal. Danny sat crouched over a Bible in one corner, while Mike scribbled on his sheet of paper. Reverend James and Stephen were seated on the couch by the fire, leaning forward with eyes closed, palms upwards to God, praying. Suzanne sat on her own against the mirror. Terror flashed across her face. But when she saw me looking at her, she gave me a half-smile. ‘Where are you going, Rafe?’

  ‘A little walk. It’s claustrophobic in here.’

  ‘Outside? Are you crazy?’

  I hauled on my heavy winter coat, pulled on a balaclava and mittens, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and pulled open the front door. Reverend James opened his mouth to object, but I pushed open the door before he had a chance to speak.

  My plan was twofold: I would have another go at reaching Glen’s body, but I would also hunt for the phones that had been blown out of the balcony window. The cold hit me like a wall, but this time I was well padded against the elements. The wind had picked up and the flurries had diminished, but the cold burrowed into every exposed chink of my armour. The moisture in my eyes felt as if it was going to freeze. The snowdrifts were deep, but I plodded my way around the castle until I could see the tower above me and the balcony with most of the railing missing. I stopped at the abyss of the valley where Glen had tumbled. The debris we had seen earlier was now blanketed in snow. No sign of phones anywhere. I shielded my eyes against the glare – the afternoon was surprisingly bright, and the snow was luminous. The mist had cleared, and I could see a shrouded shape in the snow metres below. The wind had blown snowdrifts around him. I put a boot out ahead of me and felt it give. No way I could climb down here. I needed equipment: ropes, other helpers.