Facing the farmhouse on the other side of the courtyard were four much plainer buildings that Robin thought looked like more dormitories.
‘All right,’ said Becca, ‘the women are going to follow me and the men, follow Jiang. We’ll reconvene by the pool.’
Becca led the women into the dormitory on the centre right.
The interior reminded Robin of a large, old-fashioned sanatorium. Rows of metal-framed beds stood upon shining tiled floors. The walls were painted a stark white. A large copper bell hung from the middle of the ceiling, which was connected to a thick rope whose end dangled beside the entrance.
‘Choose any bed that doesn’t already have pyjamas on it,’ said Becca, ‘and put your bags into the boxes under your beds. You’ll find journals on your pillows!’ she called after the women who were already striding away from her, to find their sleeping places. ‘We ask you to record your thoughts and impressions daily! This is a way of measuring spiritual progress, and also a means of helping the Principals guide you better on your journey with us. Your journals will be collected in and read every morning! Please write your name clearly on the front of the journal, and please do not tear out pages.’
Most of the women had gravitated naturally towards the far end of the dormitory, where there were windows overlooking woods, but Robin, who wanted a bed as close as possible to the door, spotted one by the wall and, by dint of walking faster than anyone else, managed to secure it by placing her pyjamas on the pillow. Her blank journal had a pencil tied to it with a length of string. Glancing around, she saw three or four small wooden tables supporting the kind of sturdy, crank-turned, desktop pencil sharpeners she’d used at primary school. Having put her hessian bag into the wicker box under the bed, she wrote the name Rowena Ellis on the front of her journal.
‘If anyone needs the loo,’ called Becca, pointing through a door leading to a communal bathroom, ‘it’s right through there!’
Though she felt in no need of the toilet, Robin took the opportunity to examine the communal bathroom, which had a row of toilets and a row of showers. Tampons and sanitary towels lay in packets in open baskets. Windows were set high over the handbasins.
When all the women who wished to do so had used the bathroom, Becca led the group back into the courtyard, where they were reunited with the men.
‘This way,’ said Becca, leading the group on.
As they walked around the temple, they passed a few church members walking in the opposite direction, all of whom beamed and said hello. Among them was a teenaged girl, sixteen at most, who had long, fine mousey hair, sun-bleached at the ends, and enormous dark blue eyes in a thin, anxious face. She smiled automatically at the sight of the newcomers, but Robin, glancing back, saw the smile disappear from the girl’s face as though a switch had been flicked.
Behind the temple was a smaller courtyard. To the left lay what appeared to be a small library built of the same red stone as the temple, its doors standing open, a couple of people in orange tracksuits sitting at tables inside, reading. There were also older buildings, including barns and sheds which looked as though they’d been there for decades. A newer building lay ahead, which, while not as grand as the temple, must still have cost a huge amount of money. It was long and broad, made of brick and timber, and when Becca led them inside, it proved to be a spacious dining hall with a beamed ceiling, and many trestle tables standing on a flagged stone floor. At one end was a stage, with what Robin supposed would be called a high table standing on it. Sounds of clanging, and a faint, depressing smell of cooking vegetables, proclaimed the close proximity of a kitchen.
Around forty orange-tracksuited people were already sitting at a trestle table, and Robin, remembering that minibuses had also brought recruits from cities other than London, supposed she was looking at more newcomers. Sure enough, Becca told her own group to join those already seated, then moved aside to have a quiet conversation with a few of her fellow members.
Now Robin spotted Will Edensor, who was so tall and thin that his tracksuit hung off him. A few inches of hairy ankle were visible between the top of his trainer and the hem of the trousers. He wore a fixed smile as he stood in silence, apparently waiting for instructions. Beside Will stood pointy-nosed, straggly haired Taio Wace, who was far fatter than all the other church members. Becca and Jiang were consulting clipboards and notes, and talking quietly among themselves.
‘Walter Fernsby,’ said a loud voice in Robin’s ear, which made her jump. ‘We haven’t met yet.’
‘Rowena Ellis,’ said Robin, shaking the professor’s hand.
‘And you?’ Fernsby said to the plump green-haired girl.
‘Penny Brown,’ said the girl.
‘All right, everyone, if I could have your attention!’ said a loud voice, and silence fell as Taio Wace stepped forwards. ‘For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Taio, son of Jonathan Wace.’
‘Oooh,’ said Marion, the ginger-haired, middle-aged woman. ‘He’s his son?’
‘You’re going to be split into five groups,’ said Taio, ‘which may change as your stay progresses, but for now, these will be your workmates as you begin your Week of Service.
‘The first group will be Wood.’
Taio began to call out names. As first the Wood Group, and then the Metal Group, were formed and led away by a church member, Robin noticed that those in charge were not only dividing people who evidently knew each other, but also mixing together the occupants of the three minibuses. Will Edensor departed the dining hall at the head of the Water Group.
‘Fire group,’ said Taio. ‘Rowena Ellis—’
Robin stood up and took her place beside Taio, who smiled.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You came.’
Robin forced herself to smile back at him. His pale, pointed nose and small mouth reminded her more than ever of an albino rat.
Taio continued reading out names until Robin was standing with eleven others, including the ginger-haired, bespectacled Marion Huxley, and Penny Brown, the teenager with short green hair.
‘Fire Group,’ said Taio, handing his clipboard to Becca, ‘you’ll come with me.’
From the slight flicker of surprise on Becca’s face, Robin had the feeling this hadn’t been the plan, and she hoped very much that Taio’s decision to lead Fire Group had nothing to do with her.
Taio led his group out of the dining hall and turned right.
‘Laundry,’ he said, pointing at the brick building behind the dining hall.
Ahead was open farmland. Orange figures dotted the fields, which stretched as far as the eye could see, and Robin saw two Shire horses in the distance, ploughing.
‘Chickens,’ said Taio dismissively, as they turned left along a track bordered by cow parsley and passed a gigantic coop in which both speckled and brown hens were strutting and scratching. ‘Back there,’ he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, ‘we’ve got pigs and beehives. These,’ he added, pointing ahead at a collection of smaller brick buildings, ‘are the crafting workshops.’
‘Oooh, fun,’ said green-haired Penny happily.
Taio opened the door of the second building. The noise of sewing machines met them.
Two young women and a man were sitting at the far end of the room, using the machines to make what looked like small, floppy pouches, until Robin realised that the small group of people sitting at the nearer table were filling them with stuffing and turning them into small, cuddly turtles. The workers looked around at the opening of the door, smiling. They were sitting a chair apart, leaving space for each of the newcomers to sit between two church members.
‘Fire Group, called to service,’ said Taio.
A friendly looking man in his early forties got to his feet, holding a half-stuffed turtle.
‘Wonderful!’ he said. ‘Take a seat, everyone!’
Robin found herself a space between a very pretty girl who looked Chinese, and was sitting a little further from the table than everyone else, due to the fact that she was in late pregnancy, and a middle-aged white woman whose head was entirely shaven, only a tiny amount of grey stubble poking through. Her eyebags were purple, and the joints of her hands were, Robin noticed, very swollen.
‘I’ll see you all at dinner,’ said Taio. His eyes lingered on Robin as he shut the door.
‘Welcome!’ said the activity leader brightly, looking round at the newcomers. ‘We’re making these for street sales. All proceeds will be going to our Homes for Humanity project. As you’re probably aware…’
As he began talking about homelessness statistics, and the ways in which the church was trying to alleviate the problem, Robin took covert stock of the room. Large, framed signs hung on the walls, each containing a short declarative sentence: I Admit the Possibility; I Am Called to Service; I Live to Love and Give; I Am Master of My Soul; I Live Beyond Mere Matter.
‘… delighted to say our London hostels have now taken nearly a thousand people off the street.’
‘Wow!’ said green-haired Penny.
‘And in fact, we have a beneficiary of the scheme here with us,’ said the activity leader, indicating the pregnant Chinese girl. ‘Wan was in a very bad situation, but she found our hostel, and now she’s a valued member of the Universal Humanitarian family.’
Wan nodded, smiling.
‘All right, so, you’ll find stuffing and empty skins beside you. Once your box is full, carry it back to our machinists and they’ll seal up our turtles for us.’
Robin reached into the box between herself and Wan, and set to work.
‘What’s your name?’ the shaven-headed woman asked Robin in a quiet voice.
‘Rowena,’ said Robin.