The Running Grave полностью

Jiang was pointing at Will Edensor, who was crouching in the shade of a tree off the path and appeared to be comforting a child of maybe two, who was crying. Will Edensor jumped up as though he’d been scalded. The little girl, whose white hair hadn’t been shaved like that of the other children, but stood out around her head like a dandelion clock, raised her arms, imploring Will to pick her up. A group of nursery age were toddling about behind him among more trees, under the supervision of shaven-headed Louise Pirbright.

‘Are you on child duty?’ Jiang shouted at Will.

‘No,’ said Will. ‘She just fell over, so I—’

‘You’re committing materialist possession,’ shouted Jiang, and specks of spittle issued from his mouth. Robin was sure her presence was making Jiang more aggressive, that he was enjoying asserting his authority in front of her.

‘It was only because she fell over,’ said Will. ‘I was going to the laundry and—’

‘Then go to the laundry!’

Will hurried off on his long legs. The little girl attempted to follow him, tripped, fell and cried harder than ever. Within a few seconds, Louise had scooped the child up and retreated with her into the trees where the rest of the little ones were roaming.

‘He’s been warned,’ said Jiang, heading off again. ‘I’m going to have to report that.’

He seemed to take pleasure in the prospect.

‘Why isn’t he allowed near children?’ asked Robin, hurrying to keep up with Jiang as they rounded the side of the temple.

‘Nothing like that,’ said Jiang quickly, answering an unspoken question. ‘But we’ve got to be careful about who works with the little ones.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Robin.

‘Not because of – it’s spiritual,’ growled Jiang. ‘People get ego hits from materialist possession. It interferes with spiritual growth.’

‘I see,’ said Robin.

‘You’ve got to kill the false self,’ said Jiang. ‘He hasn’t killed his false self yet.’

They were now crossing the courtyard. When they crouched down at the pool of the Drowned Prophet between the tombs of the Stolen and Golden Prophets, Robin picked up a tiny pebble lying on the ground and hid it in her left hand before dipping the forefinger of her right into the water, anointing her forehead and intoning ‘The Drowned Prophet will bless all who worship her.’

‘You know who she was?’ Jiang asked Robin, as he stood up and pointed at the statue of Daiyu.

‘Er – her name was Daiyu, wasn’t it?’ said Robin, still with the tiny pebble held in her closed hand.

‘Yeah, but d’you know who she was? To me?’

‘Oh,’ said Robin. She’d already learned that the naming of family relationships was frowned upon at Chapman Farm, because it suggested a continuing allegiance to materialist values. ‘No.’

‘My sister,’ said Jiang in a low voice, smirking.

‘Can you remember her?’ said Robin, careful to sound awed.

‘Yeah,’ said Jiang. ‘She used to play with me.’

They proceeded towards the entrance of the farmhouse. As Jiang drew a little ahead of her to push open the dragon-ornamented doors of the farmhouse, Robin stowed the tiny pebble out of sight down the front of her sweatshirt, inside her bra.

There was a motto inlaid in Latin in the stone floor just inside the doors of the farmhouse: STET FORTUNA DOMUS. The hallway was wide, pristinely clean and immaculately decorated, the white walls covered in Chinese art, including framed silk panels and carved wooden masks. A scarlet-carpeted stairway curved up to the first floor. A number of closed doors, all painted in glossy black, led off the hall, but Jiang led Robin past all of these and turned right, into a corridor that led into one of the new wings.

At the very end of the corridor, he rapped on another glossy black door and opened it.

Robin heard a woman’s laughter, and as the door opened she saw actress Noli Seymour leaning up against an ebony desk and apparently lost in merriment about something Dr Zhou had just said to her. She was a dark, elfin young woman with cropped hair, wearing what Robin recognised as head-to-toe Chanel.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said through her laughter. Robin had the impression Noli vaguely recognised Jiang, but couldn’t remember his name. Jiang’s hand had again leapt to his winking eye. ‘Andy’s just making me roar… I had to come down here to get my treatments,’ she pouted slightly, ‘seeing as he’s abandoned us in London.’

‘Abandoned you? Never,’ said Zhou, in his deep voice. ‘Now, you’ll stay for the night? Papa J’s back.’

‘Is he?’ squealed Noli, clapping her hands to her face in delight. ‘Oh my God, I haven’t seen him in weeks!’

‘He says you can take your usual room,’ said Zhou, pointing upstairs. ‘The membership will be delighted to see you. Now, I have to assess this young lady,’ he said, pointing at Robin.

‘All right, darling,’ said Noli, offering her face to be kissed. Zhou clasped her hands, pecked her on each cheek, and Noli walked out past Robin in a cloud of tuberose, winking as she passed and saying:

‘You’re in very safe hands.’