‘I want you to think now of the person or people who are most likely to try these kinds of tactics on you. You’re going to write them a calm, compassionate letter clearly setting out why you’ve decided to join the church. Here,’ said Becca, as the image on the screen changed again, ‘are some of the phrases we find most effective in explaining the spiritual journey you’ve begun in ways that materialists can grasp. However, you should feel free to write the letter in any way that feels authentic to you.’
Panic now rose in Robin. Who the hell was she to send a letter to? She was afraid the UHC might check, to make sure both addressee and address were genuine. The recruits hadn’t been given envelopes: clearly, the letters would be read before being sent. Rowena’s fictional parents were the most obvious recipients for the letter, but their non-existence would surely be exposed instantly once she put down a traceable address.
‘Can I help?’ said a quiet voice beside Robin.
Becca had noticed that Robin wasn’t writing and had stepped through the people sitting on the floor to talk to her.
‘Well, I’d like to write to my parents,’ said Robin, ‘but they’re on a cruise. I can’t even remember the name of their ship.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Becca. ‘Well, you’ve got a sister, haven’t you? Why don’t you write to your parents, via her?’
‘Oh, that’s a good idea,’ said Robin, who could feel sweat rising beneath her sweatshirt. ‘Thanks.’
Robin bent her head over the letter, wrote Dear Theresa, then looked back up at the screen, pretending to be looking for phrases to copy down, but actually trying to think of a solution to her dilemma. She’d unthinkingly given Theresa a job in publishing and now wished she’d made her a student, because a hall of residence might have been harder to check for her presence. Hoping to make it as hard as possible for the UHC to decide definitively that Theresa didn’t exist, Robin wrote:
I can’t remember when you said you were moving, but hopefully –
Robin thought rapidly. A nickname seemed safest, because it could apply to anyone who might be actually living at the random address she was about to write down. Her eyes fell on the back of Walter the professor’s balding head.
- Baldy will send this on if you’ve already left.
Robin looked back up at the screen. Most of a template letter was there, ready to be copied.
Letter of Declaration of UHC Membership
Dear X,
[As you know] I’ve just completed a week’s retreat at the Universal Humanitarian Church. I’ve [really enjoyed it/found it very inspiring/gained a huge amount] so I’ve decided to stay on and [pursue my spiritual growth/explore further self-development/help with the church’s charitable projects].
Robin dutifully copied out a version of this paragraph, then moved to the second.
Chapman Farm is a closed community and we don’t use electronic devices because we find them disruptive to a meditative spiritual environment. However, letters are passed on to members, so if you’d like to, write to me here at Chapman Farm, Lion’s Mouth, Aylmerton, Norfolk, NR11 8PC.
Robin copied this out, then looked up once more. There were a few final bits of advice about the letters’ contents, and how to terminate them.
Do not use phrases like ‘don’t worry about me’, which may lay you open to emotional blackmail.
When signing off, avoid pet familial terms such as ‘mum’ or ‘granny’, and terms such as ‘love’. Use your given name, no diminutives or nicknames, which demonstrate continuing acceptance of materialist possession.
Write the address to send the letter to on the back of the page.
Robin now wrote:
Please can you let our parents know I’m staying, because I know they’re on their cruise. It’s great to have a sense of purpose again and I’m learning so much. Rowena.
Turning the page over, she jotted down a street she knew from surveillance work existed in Clapham, picked a house number at random, then invented a postcode of which only SW11 was likely to be accurate.
Looking up, she saw that most people had finished writing. Putting up her hand, she passed her finished letter to the smiling Becca and waited for everybody else to complete the task. Finally, when all letters, paper and pens had been collected in, they were permitted to rise and file back upstairs.
As Robin stepped out into the courtyard, she saw Dr Andy Zhou hurrying towards the farmhouse’s carved double doors, carrying what looked like a medical case. He had an abstracted, anxious air that contrasted strongly with his usual suavity. As those who’d been writing their template letters crowded around the pool of the Drowned Prophet to pay their usual respects on passing, Robin hung back, watching Zhou. The doors to the farmhouse opened and she caught a glimpse of an elderly Indian woman. Zhou stepped over the threshold and vanished from sight, the doors closing behind him. Robin, who was living in daily expectation of hearing that the pregnant Wan had gone into labour, wondered whether that explained Zhou’s haste.
‘The Drowned Prophet will bless all who worship her,’ she muttered when her turn at the pool side came, dabbing cold water on her forehead as usual, before falling into step with Kyle, Amandeep and Vivienne. Vivienne was saying,
‘… probably be really angry, like I give a toss. Seriously, they could both be in a textbook under “false self”. It’s only since I’ve been in ’ere I’ve, like, started to fully process what they’ve done to me, y’know?’
‘Totally,’ said Kyle.
The letter writers were some of the earliest to arrive in the dining hall and consequently had a choice of seats. Robin, who saw every meal as an opportunity to collect information, because it was the one time all church members mingled, chose to sit down beside a knot of church members having a whispered conversation. They were so deeply engrossed, they didn’t immediately notice when Robin sat down beside them.
‘… says Jacob’s really bad, but I think Dr Zhou—’
The speaker, a young black man with short dreadlocks, broke off. To Robin’s exasperation, Amandeep, Kyle and Vivienne had followed her to the table. The last’s loud voice had alerted the whisperers to their presence.
‘—then they can go to ’ell, frankly,’ Vivienne was saying.
‘We don’t use that expression,’ said the man with dreadlocks sharply to Vivienne, who turned pink.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘We don’t wish hell on anyone,’ said the young man. ‘UHC members don’t want to swell the Adversary’s ranks.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Vivienne, now scarlet. ‘I’m really sorry. Actually, I need the bathroom…’
Barely a minute later, the shaven-headed, grumpy-looking young woman who’d been recently relocated from another UHC centre entered the rapidly filling hall. After glancing around, she headed for Vivienne’s vacated space. Robin thought she saw the idea of telling her the seat was already taken cross Kyle’s mind, but after opening his mouth he closed it again.
‘Hi,’ said the always talkative Amandeep, holding out a hand to the woman in glasses. ‘Amandeep Singh.’
‘Emily Pirbright,’ muttered the woman, returning his handshake.
‘Pirbright? Whoa – is Becca your sister?’ said Amandeep.
Robin understood Amandeep’s surprise, because the two young women didn’t resemble each other in the slightest. Aside from the contrast between Becca’s well-groomed, glossy bob and Emily’s almost bald head, the latter’s perpetual expression of bad temper formed a greater contrast to Becca’s apparently unquenchable cheeriness.
‘We don’t use words like “sister”,’ said Emily. ‘Haven’t you learned that yet?’
‘Oh, yeah, sorry,’ said Amandeep.
‘Becca and I used to be flesh objects to each other, if that’s what you mean,’ said Emily coldly.
The group of established church members who’d been whispering when Robin sat down had now subtly angled their bodies away from Emily. It was impossible not to draw the conclusion that Emily was in some form of disgrace and Robin’s interest in her doubled. Fortunately for her, Amandeep’s incorrigible sociability swiftly reasserted itself.
‘So you grew up here at the farm?’ he asked Emily.
‘Yeah,’ said Emily.
‘Is Becca older or—?’
‘Older.’
Robin thought Emily was conscious of her silent shunning by the group beside her.
‘That’s another old flesh object of mine, look,’ she said.
Robin, Amandeep and Kyle looked in the direction Emily was pointing and saw Louise wheeling the usual vat of noodles along, ladling them out onto plates at the next table. Louise glanced up, met Emily’s eyes, then returned stolidly to her work.
‘What, is she your—?’
Amandeep caught himself just in time.
A few minutes later, Louise reached their table. Emily waited until Louise was on the point of dropping a ladleful of noodles onto her plate before saying loudly,
‘And Kevin was younger than Becca and me.’
Louise’s hand shook: hot noodles slid off Emily’s plate into her lap.
‘Ouch!’
Expressionless, Louise moved on down the line.
Scowling, Emily picked the noodles out of her lap, put them back on her plate, then deliberately speared the only chunks of fresh vegetable out of what Robin was sure was tinned tomato, set them aside and began to eat the rest of her meal.
‘Don’t you like carrot?’ asked Robin. Meals were so scant at Chapman Farm, she’d never before seen anyone fail to clear their plate.
‘What’s it to you?’ said Emily aggressively.
Robin ate the rest of her meal in silence.
40
… the most sacred of human feelings, that of reverence for the ancestors.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Strike made the long trip to St Mawes on Thursday by train and ferry. His uncle was so surprised and delighted to see him that Strike knew Ted had forgotten he was coming, in spite of the fact that he’d called that morning to tell his uncle what time he’d be arriving.