Lonie52

A shadow of tiredness haunted Audrey’s face as she left for work in the morning. Driving was a mechanical process made bleaker by the North Atlantic squalls that reduced visibility to a parody of brightness. Convoys of cars drove in double spaced lines along the motorway with headlights on. When Audrey climbed the stairs to the office her knees locked at the top of the hallway. She stood beside the door to the cleaner’s cupboard and pulled it slowly open; wrestling with the idea of hiding inside, living with the caustic smell of disinfectants and rectangular shaped containers of Squarfega. There was room for her if she squeezed in among the tall bristled brushes, mops, sponges, pails, squeegees and casually laid aside yellow rubber gloves. Only by lining up her thoughts one at a time, like football fans clicking through a turnstile, did she allow herself to walk, stilt-legged, clutching at her bag through the newsroom to the space were her desk was. Relaxation was a holiday she couldn’t enjoy. She could feel the editor's, sub-editor's and fellow reporter's eyes on her. Her hands only settled when she touched her typewriter and began typing a preliminary report on Grandfather Campbell. Words on a white sheet of paper, line by line, gave her order, saved her life from capsizing.

The smell of Woodbine startled Audrey into thinking Lonie was back on the news floor. Paul Woods, the executive editor, appeared by her desk. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. His presence made her miss a beat as she typed.

He was apologetic. ‘Have you got anything for the fatman?’

Audrey frowned and tried to make it into a winning smile. Her mouth dropped down and made her feel foolish. She had a sudden urge to put her arm around her typewriter, around her typed sheets, like a school kid blocking off the advances of greedy kids eager to help themselves to her school dinner. ‘No.’ She gave Woods the brush off with a blank stare, but her mouth was still working and words were coming out. She was amazed that somewhere in the axons and dendrites of her sleep-walking brain a plan had formed. ‘I’ve got a few things to check out at Goldenwell. I’ve got to meet with Father Campbell.’ This time her smile was genuine.

‘That’s good.’ Woods patted her on the shoulder paternally. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ The threadbare veins of his bulbous nose joined dot to dot above a gap toothed smile. His shiny shoes skimmed the floor, a model of fuel efficiency, as he headed back, weaving through the hubbub of other reporters to the fatman’s office.

Audrey followed after him, but slipped out the office door. She had to interview Father Campbell. To do that she had to lift her bag, make sure she had her car keys and drive out there to see him. She could cope with it. One thing at a time. She was coping with it.

The drive to Goldenwell didn’t take long. Audrey was treated with a courtesy by the security staff that was missing when she was with Lonie. Perhaps, she thought, as she was wheeshed through one closed door after another it was something to do with being a woman. Within ten minutes of entering the secure unit she was sitting in Father Campbell’s office. Jim was talking to Lorna when she came in, but his mouth closed and he slumped down in his chair looking intently at the crossword.

Lorna edged sideways off the side of the desk she was sitting on. She had the courtesy to greet Audrey with a smile. Father Campbell stood up and ushered her into the chair closest to his desk. Audrey eased out of her coat. The unit was always too warm, even for her liking.

‘You’ve done something with your hair?’ Lorna put her hand on Jim’s shoulder to lean across and feel the texture of Audrey’s hair.

‘No.’ Audrey protested, but she patted Lorna’s hand, glad of its warmth and the friendliness in her voice.

‘So how have you been?’ Lorna looked ready to throw herself into girly chat, but stalled as the two clerics Brother Jerome and Connelly passed the office window escorting Larry between them.

Larry slapped the office window, his finger pointing at Audrey. ‘The flames will consume you. The world is no longer yours to ignore. Burn! Burn! Burn! Your life’s a tomb. Soon. Very soon, in eternity’s ashes you will lie.’ He shrugged off the challenge of being held, before being bundled along the corridor, his eerie laughter echoing back and making Audrey shiver.

‘Ignore him.’ Lorna’s advice was a sticking plaster on Audrey’s discomfort. ‘If you want to talk we can go into the TV room. ‘Nobody ever watches it except for Jim.’ She pushed him in the back, chiding him.

‘No. It’s ok.’ Audrey searched in her bag for paper hankies.

‘Perhaps you should?’ Father Campbell spoke softly. ‘You are troubled. Please. If not for your own sake, for mine.’ His eyes were mirrors of Audrey’s own, which made her well up and tears began to run down her cheeks.

Lorna brushed past Jim, holding and comforting her, until her sobs subsided.

‘I feel such a fool.’ Audrey’s face was a smudged red, but she sounded grateful. She dabbed at her nose with a hankie, picked up her bag and followed Lorna out into the corridor and along to the TV room, leaving the men behind.

The television room was cubed shaped and because the door was closed stuffier than the office they had just left. The TV sat on a stand almost diagonally across from the door. There were three comfortable soft seats arranged in a semi-circle around it taking up most of the floor space. A soft beanbag was also splodged down on the carpeted floor for anybody who chose to watch telly horizontal. Audrey shuffled her feet and settled into the wingback chair nearest the door. Lorna sat in a seat close to her and leaned across and took her left hand in hers.

‘I only feel foolish when I’m not making a fool of myself.’ Lorna spoke with a light conversational tone that made speaking to her seem easy.

Audrey knew there was no blame attached to what had happened to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, however, there was an irritated consciousness of how perfect the girl sitting across from her was and what a relief it would be to surrender to her the mask of competence, of coping…Her eyes tracked across to the television set. The screen was blank, a trap for dust and dirt, nothing on and nothing showing. A nervous silence settled between them, broken only by the ticking of the radiator.

Lorna waited with a quiet reassuring poise, but it was she that was first to speak. ‘You know I can sometimes read auras?’

‘What colours are mine?’ Audrey felt suddenly curious and lighter, as if they were playing a game of truth and dare.

‘Emm.’ Lorna laughed. ‘In a way it doesn’t really matter. You get beyond that.’ She entwined her fingers with Audrey’s. ‘I think the important thing is I can see you’re in a lot of pain. Let me help you.’

Audrey squeezed her hand back. ‘How?’

‘We’d need to do a cleansing ceremony.’

All laughter from Lorna’s face was gone. She spoke with sincerity.

Carol Peter’s hands clapping together were like hammer blows to a ship’s hull, both of them looked at her. ‘Oh, how perfectly marvellous.' She was standing at the door. ‘I thought it would be children’s television, but it’s something much better than that.’ Carol rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ve had to give up alcohol and guilt, but I do love a good exorcism –as long as it’s not mine of course.’

‘Don’t listen to her!’ There was urgency in Lorna’s voice. She pulled at Audrey’s arm, making her look back at her. ‘You need us to help you.’

Audrey pulled her arm away, falling backward back into her chair.

Carol had joined their little grouping and her face was triumphant. ‘Who’s first up for an exorcism? Larry, or me, or poor old Audrey?’ She had bright red lipstick on and she sat down across from Audrey and smooched her lips at her.

‘Stop it.’ Lorna slapped at the arm of her chair. ‘Stop it now!’

A sheen of perspiration appeared on Carol’s temples. She laughed, ‘or what? You’ll strike me down? Send me deep to the fiery pit?’ Her eyes flashed and she leaned across and took Audrey’s hand, turning it palm upwards. The thumb of her finger dug in and ran up and down the thick chunky base of her thumb, cutting in a diagonal across the tendons, and tracing out the curves and whorls of the paths made by a fist. ‘Short life-line. Pity. Pity. Pity. Very sensuous. Likes the better things in life, but doesn’t like to admit it.’ She let go of Audrey’s hand, but leaned across and added as if in confidence: ‘It would have been a little girl you know?’

‘What would have been?’ Audrey couldn’t look away from her. Lorna’s hand flashed across her face, making her blink.

‘Having fun Carol?’ Jim leaned half in the door, holding it open, and his feet still in the corridor.

‘Oh, yes.’ Carol clapped her hands together in glee. ‘Won’t be long now until she’s joining us in here.’ She got up from her chair to leave and leaned across to Audrey and whispered ‘burn, burn, burn. Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live.’ She smacked her lips as if chewing a tasty morsel. Jim was waiting and the room door shut quietly behind her.

‘Why does she keep saying these things?’ Audrey had fear in her voice and turned to Lorna for answers.

‘Come we’ll get a nice cup of tea.’ Lorna took her arm, as if she was invalidated, but Audrey shook her off and faced her down so that her eyes dropped. ‘She says these things because she can.’ Lorna paused to see if Audrey understood. ‘Fear breads fear and they feed off the glory of that fear.’

‘You said “they”’. Audrey was quick to correct her.

‘Yes.’ Lorna took her arm again. Audrey’s hands were shaking and she let herself be guided to the door. ‘She's possessed by demons.’

‘But how? Why?’ Audrey grabbed onto the handle of the door. She felt her legs might go and only Lorna and her matter-of-fact manner was keeping her upright.

Lorna sighed. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve come here. You’ve got to understand.’ She took a step away from Audrey as if weighing up her strength. ‘We do all our own cooking. Our own cleaning. We are a fortress of souls. But I’m afraid we lose strength and virtue through mere association. I think you may have a low level infestation.’

‘Infestation of what?’ Audrey shrieked.

‘Demons.’ Lorna’s voice was flat and strangely neutral. She nodded that Audrey should follow her to the kitchen. ‘We might have to say a few prayers over you to drive them out.’

Audrey stopped. She couldn’t breathe. ‘You mean an exorcism?' Somehow naming her condition was a relief.

Lorna took both her hands in hers. ‘It’s Deliverance. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.’