This mutually agreed silence extended to Kyle’s unexplained absence from the group. Robin knew better than to ask how he’d transgressed, but she was certain he’d done something wrong because she soon spotted him doing the kind of hard manual work she’d just been allowed to give up. Robin also noticed that Vivienne now averted her eyes whenever her group and Kyle’s passed each other.
Robin found out what Kyle’s crime had been when she sat down opposite Shawna at dinner that night.
Following Shawna’s ill-advised recruitment of Robin to help with the children’s lessons, her head had been shaved. While she’d seemed cowed when she first appeared in her newly bald state, her fundamentally garrulous and indiscreet nature had now reasserted itself, and her first proud words to Robin were,
‘Oi’m increasing again.’
She patted her lower belly.
‘Oh,’ said Robin. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Yew don’t say that,’ scoffed Shawna. ‘Oi’m not doing it for
‘Right,’ said Robin wearily. She’d deliberately sat with Shawna in the hopes of hearing more news about Jacob, because she had a hunch it was his fate she’d overheard Harmon, Zhou and Becca discussing in Mazu’s office, but she’d forgotten how exasperating the girl could be.
‘Did yew hear about
‘No,’ said Robin.
‘Hahaha,’ said Shawna.
The people beside them were locked in their own intense conversation. Shawna glanced sideways to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard before leaning in and whispering to Robin,
‘He says he carn’t spirit bond with, you know… women. Said it right to Mazu’s face.’
‘Well,’ said Robin cautiously, also whispering, ‘I mean… he’s gay, isn’t he? So—’
‘Thass materialism,’ said Shawna, louder than she’d intended, and one of the young men beside them glanced around and Shawna, greatly against Robin’s wishes, said loudly to them,
‘She thinks there’s such a thing as “gay”.’
Clearly deciding no good would come of responding to Shawna, the young man turned back to his conversation.
‘Bodies don’t matter,’ Shawna told Robin firmly. ‘On’y spirit matters.’
She leaned in again, once more talking in a conspiratorial whisper.
‘Vivienne wanted to spirit bond with ’im and I ’eard ’e ran out there, loike,
Robin nodded silently, which appeared to satisfy Shawna. As they ate, Robin tried to lead Shawna onto the subject of Jacob, but other than Shawna’s confident assertion that he was bound to pass soon, because Papa J had decreed it, found out no more information.
Robin’s next letter to Strike was devoid of useful information. However, two days after placing it in the plastic rock, she and the rest of the high-level recruits, minus Kyle, were led to another crafting session by Becca Pirbright.
It was a hot, cloudless June day, and Becca was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the church’s logo instead of a sweatshirt, although the ordinary members continued to wear their heavy tracksuits. Field poppies and daisies had bloomed along the path to the Portakabins, and Robin might have felt uplifted but for the fact that fine weather at Chapman Farm turned her thoughts to all the places she’d rather have been. Even central London, never the most comfortable place in a heatwave, had a halcyon quality to her these days. She could have put on a summer dress instead of this thick tracksuit, bought herself a bottle of water at will, walked anywhere, freely…
A startled mutter issued from the group as they approached the Portakabin where they usually made corn dollies. The tables had been moved outside, so that they wouldn’t have to endure the stuffiness of the crafting room, but their surprise had nothing to do with the relocated tables.
Several church members were constructing a twelve-foot-high man of straw beside the Portakabin. It appeared to have a strong wire frame, and Robin now realised that the large straw sculpture she’d previously seen Wan working on had been the head.
‘We make one of these every year, in celebration of the Manifestation of the Stolen Prophet,’ the smiling Becca told the group, who were all contemplating the large straw man as they sat down at the crafting tables. ‘The prophet was a gifted craftsman himself, so—’
Becca’s voice faltered. Emily had just emerged from behind the straw sculpture, hands full of twine. Emily’s head was freshly shaven; like Louise, she clearly hadn’t been given permission to let her hair regrow yet. Emily threw Becca a cold, challenging look before returning to her work.
‘—so we celebrate him by the means he chose to express himself,’ Becca finished.
