‘You should’ve internalised that by now,’ said Will sententiously. ‘That’s kind of basic.’
‘Sorry,’ said Robin again. ‘I keep getting into trouble accidentally.’
‘There’s no “in trouble”,’ said Will, in the same critical tone. ‘Spiritual demarcation is strengthening.’
‘What’s spiritual demarcation?’ said Robin.
‘
He wasn’t bothering to keep his voice down. Robin could tell the other gardeners were listening. One young woman in glasses, who had long, dirty hair and a prominent mole on her chin, was wearing a faint smile.
‘If you don’t understand why spiritual demarcation’s occurred,’ Will said, unasked, ‘you need to chant or medit—Qing, don’t do that,’ he said, because the little girl was now digging her wooden spade where he’d just patted down the earth over the seeds. ‘Come and get more seeds,’ said Will, standing up and leading Qing, hand in hand, towards the box where the packets were sitting.
Robin kept working, wondering at the difference in Will when church elders were present, when he looked hangdog and defeated, and Will here among the farmhands, where he seemed self-assured and dogmatic. She was also quietly reflecting on the young man’s hypocrisy. Robin had seen clear signs that Will and Lin were trying to sustain a parental relationship with Qing in defiance of the church’s teaching, and the conversation she’d overheard him having with Lin in the woods had proven he was trying to help her avoid spirit bonding with some other man. Robin wondered whether Will was oblivious to the fact that he was transgressing against the precepts of the UHC, or whether the lecturing tone was for the benefit of their listeners.
Almost as though the girl in glasses had read Robin’s mind, she said with a strong Norfolk accent,
‘You won’t win agin Will on church doctrine. ’E knows it insoid out.’
‘I wasn’t trying to win anything,’ said Robin mildly.
Will returned, Qing in tow. Determined to keep him talking, Robin said,
‘This is a wonderful place for kids to grow up, isn’t it?’
Will merely grunted.
‘They’ll know the right way from the start – unlike me.’
Will glanced at Robin again, then said,
‘It’s never too late. The Golden Prophet was seventy-two when she found The Way.’
‘I know,’ said Robin, ‘that sort of gives me comfort. I’ll get it if I keep working—’
‘It isn’t working, it’s freeing yourself to discover,’ Will corrected her. ‘
Robin was starting to understand why Will’s brother James found him infuriating.
‘Well, that’s what I’m trying—’
‘You shouldn’t be trying. It’s a process of allowing.’
‘I know, that’s what I’m saying,’ said Robin, as each of them scattered seeds and patted down the earth, Qing now poking idly at a weed. ‘Your little – I mean,
‘Yes,’ said Will.
‘She won’t make my mistakes, because she’ll be taught to open herself up properly, won’t she?’
Will looked up. Their eyes met, Robin’s expression deliberately innocent, and Will’s face turned slowly scarlet. Pretending she hadn’t noticed, Robin returned to her work, saying,
‘We had a really good lecture on spirit bonding the other—’
Will got up abruptly and walked back towards the seeds. For the rest of the two hours Robin spent on the vegetable patch, he came nowhere near her.
That night was the first at Chapman Farm in which Robin found it difficult to fall asleep. Recent events had forced her up against one incontrovertible fact: doing what she was in here to do – find out things to the church’s discredit, and persuade Will Edensor to reconsider his allegiance – necessarily meant pushing at boundaries. The tactics that had seen her accepted as a full church member had to be abandoned: doglike obedience and apparent indoctrination wouldn’t further her aims.
Yet she was scared. She doubted she’d ever be able to communicate to Strike – her touchstone, the person who was keeping her sane – just how intimidating the atmosphere was at Chapman Farm, how frightening it was to know you were surrounded by willing accomplices, or how unnerved she now felt at the prospect of the Retreat Rooms.
