The Gateway - Chapter VIII: Burning Hatred

Geoffrey screamed in agony, praying for any form of help, but the sad reality was, as when he was advancing upon Susan no one could get in to save her, now no one could save him. Blood was pouring from his leg and the sight of his knee was sickening, due to the fact it was practically non-existent. There was no way in Heaven he could escape, and soon he would be in Hell. Susan stood looking at him curiously for a few moments, like a cat contemplating whether or not it wanted to kill the rat it had caught now or toy with it for a bit longer. She knelt down and put her face in close proximity to Geoffrey’s.
‘Do you like my scent, is it a pleasant aroma? Do you long to touch my pale cheek and hold me in the dark of night close to your chest? Are you compelled to feel the delicateness of my frame, of my breath, of my bosom? Does your lust steer you to taste my lips? Know now, Geoffrey, this is the last time you will gaze into a woman’s eyes. Know now, Geoffrey, you will never have me. See you in the next world, if there is one, if not – it is no great loss.’ Susan spoke slowly, enjoying every syllable that passed from her lips and with those words, the last Geoffrey would ever hear, she dropped the match, alight with an orange flame, onto the straw of the barn and there, among the straw, it grew like a wild beast, its flaming claws lashing out towards the ceiling, consuming the barn and edging towards Geoffrey who was helpless. Susan calmly unlocked the door and beckoned us to leave. Mary and I did so. Susan stayed for a few moments as she watched Geoffrey be devoured by the flaming beast, her eyes never leaving his as he hung on to his last moments of life, and just before he fell into darkness he noticed her eyes were alive with excitement and ecstatic pleasure, and so Geoffrey passed from this world, knowing that his abuse of women had led to his downfall.

Upon leaving the barn, which looked so beautiful ablaze in the dense darkness of night, Susan cast an empty cigarette box to the floor just outside the barn, as to the effect of making it appear Geoffrey had indeed been killed by his own habit. This was, ironically, true, though it was not his habit of smoking that had killed him.
‘You can’t just leave him in there!’ I shouted at Susan. This was so bizarre a situation I just felt numb.
‘He’s already dead John, it would do the world little good to recover his limp body; besides our presence would look uncompromisingly suspicious given myself and Mary were subject of his meeting this morning and you have been absent all day.’ Susan said; her approach to Geoffrey’s murder was flippant to say the least.
‘You can stay in Peter’s room tonight, that way you will have an account to tell your parents about your lack of presence and an alibi, for Peter will lie if I ask him to; he has much more respect invested in him than my elder brother.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, grateful for the fact I would not have to face my parents tonight, and have to think of an excuse which would be undoubtedly weak and full of chasms of unexplained facts which clashed with my account of events. However, I suspected that Reverend Osborne would be less than enthusiastic about our late return and would probably plague Susan with questions of her design in staying out so late; though I suppose it was only eight in the evening and we may, if Lady Luck be on our side, escape serious reprimand.
‘I’m going back to the woods, unless you know any where I can stay for the meanwhile?’ Mary addressed Susan.
‘No, I will commence a search for accommodation for you tomorrow; until then I bid you farewell my friend,’ and with this goodbye Susan and Mary hugged and Mary started to make her way to the Dark Wood.
‘Come John, we must make haste; we do not want to be later that we already are. Besides I expect the Reverend will have some questions for me relating to Geoffrey’s suspicions about the killing of his cattle.’ Susan beckoned me to follow her as we walked back to the village. We walked quickly for it would only be a short while before Nell, Jack or one of the labourers of King Farm noticed the burning barn and would find, dependant on the person, either their spouse, son, or boss; or rather what was remaining of him, thither. Then something struck me.
‘The shotgun is still in there. Mary dropped it. Will it burn also? If not a seed of doubt may be planted in the minds of village folk, and if that seed were to grow into a fully fledged tree, our freedom would be in grave jeopardy.’
Susan looked at me as I said this and I could see she too was feeling anxiety towards this overlooked circumstance. Luckily for me Susan was an exceptionally intelligent being.
‘We shall spread the rumour tomorrow that he had caught Mary, and she admitted to the slaying of his cattle. He then subsequently took her into his barn where he questioned her, using the shotgun to intimidate and thus encourage answers, and after the deed he lit a cigarette, which ultimately would cause his death. That way I will be cleared of killing his animals, I could say I gave the earring to Mary, which is true, and it would also destroy any seed or plant that would stand to accuse us of causing Geoffrey’s death and of course it will be little consequence for Mary to be blamed for the slaughter of the animals if she is, as far as the village is concerned, deceased as they will assume the fire swallowed her also. As long as she stays in the woods it will emancipate us from the accusing finger of the locals.’
‘What’s going to happen now Susan, is this the end of it all?’ I asked.
‘Oh, God no John, I’m just getting started. We’re doing nothing wrong, we’re just purging this country. We must make it pure again as it was long ago before the church poisoned the minds of many with its lies that it was a woman who brought original sin upon the world. You know John, if you were to have been born with a little more wealth, an estate and a title when your father passed away, I would be very tempted to encourage a relationship between you and Felicity.’ She said, wishing the social barriers were not there and so I would be able to one day marry Felicity. My heart, however, was rapt with Alice and while this may only be a passing phase, I was not of a conviction that I could ever fall in love with Felicity, for she was truly a different class, and I would feel uncomfortable and inferior in her presence. I do to an extent with Susan, but I think when one knows that someone who is desirable to you is, as Susan is, unobtainable, it takes the edge of the awkwardness between you and your object of desire as there ceases to be sexual tension, on your part at least, for the pleasure of their company is but all you can hope for. I was shaking violently, and yet it still didn’t feel like Geoffrey’s death had sunk in, and what, I wondered walking through the village, did Susan actually intend to do when she said she was just getting started; were there more deaths to follow?

Susan seemed unnaturally calm for someone who had, foremost just burned someone alive and just escaped from being raped. Perhaps she was remarkably good at detaching herself from emotion, perhaps something in her past had hardened her – she must have some reason for her revulsion of men. All of Susan’s siblings seemed not quite normal either. It could be because of the simple consequence of their wealth, education, and upbringing. However, perhaps they all had suffered a turbulent childhood, the impression I got from their grandfather on the train was that their father wasn’t a particularly nice man, and unless he dominated his wife in a tyrannical manner, she was not to be commended as a mother for letting her offspring be taken away and forced to integrate in such as dogmatic society, of which had a core belief which was completely disparate to her children’s fundamental ideological stances.
‘Come John, you look like you’re in another world. Pray, you must keep your mind clear for we may have to induce the reverend, with but the sincerity of our voice and our angelic smiles, that we have not been up to ill practises at this time of night.’ Susan said, amused by my expression of surprise after being interrupted during my own speculating.
‘Ill practises such as what?’ I questioned.
‘Oh, he’ll probably expect us to have been “spreading the word of the Devil” as he calls it. That is of course in reference to some of the ideas my brother was preaching in church on Sunday, about the lack of reward and punishment in the next life, embodied in the places referred to as Heaven and Hell, and thus meaning that we may act as we please in this life and yet not fear eternal damnation, but this also means, as I demonstrated earlier, that sinners must be held responsible for what they have done in this life.’ Susan answered, with clear contempt aimed at the reverend in her tone.
‘Susan,’ I started, wanting to pursue my recent line of thought, ‘do you miss home?’ I crafted this question so it was a subtle inquiry as to how she enjoyed her family life and, luckily, I do not think Susan picked up on my true motives for the question and she took it to be polite conversation.
‘I have no home to miss,’ she answered bluntly, her voice saddened by this reminder of her life in London. I suppose it was conceivable, despite her unpopularity in the village, she preferred a simple life in Blackberry as opposed to the one I know so little, and yet speculate so much about.
We soon came to the house of the reverend and bile started to bubble in my stomach, nervous sweat made my forehead damp and my torso seemed sticky from my perspiration.
‘Let us knock on Felicity’s window, she is located on the ground floor.’ Susan proposed.

We went round the side of the house and knocked on a window that had not had it’s curtains drawn and so Felicity could see us immediately upon hearing our tapping. She opened up her window and in a hushed whisper to her sister asked:
‘Where on earth have you been all day? We’ve been here all day waiting for you! What on earth are you doing in those curious clothes!’
Susan put her finger to her lips and scowled.
‘Pray, sister, do not speak in such a raised voice – the reverend will hear us.’
Felicity shook her head.
‘Do not vex yourself, he has not returned from King Farm, he went to discuss something with Geoffrey and Nell.’
Susan and I exchanged worried looks, which Felicity picked up on.
‘Why do you raise your brow in such a way; what do you know of this visit?’ Felicity demanded with all the spoilt impatience of a child who has never been told ‘no’.
‘We are merely not knowledgeable about what design this visit was in aid of and our mutual glance was to inquire if either of us knew of a reason.’ Susan answered confidently. Felicity did not look convinced but decided there was little point in pursuing the point with her sister, who was clearly of an obstinate temperament this evening.
‘Well, open the front door then for goodness sake!’ Susan commanded after Felicity had stared at her suspiciously without saying anything for the period of twenty seconds. Felicity shut her window with a slam that threatened to break the glass inside and marched stormily out of her room and flung open the front door before marching back into her room in a most disagreeable mood. Susan and I stepped in and started to climb the stairs so she could introduce me to Peter. It was on the stairs we passed Andrew, who was sporting a dull yellow and purple bruise on his right cheek accompanied by a black right eye.
‘The reverend didn’t appreciate my thoughts on Sunday,’ he mentioned passing by as he noticed the horrified look I greeted him with. Susan carried on up the stairs with not as much as a murmur to her elder brother and knocked on Peter’s door.

Peter looked largely like Andrew; he had blonde combed hair which was parted to one side, blue eyes, though they were not as cold as his brother’s, and a rather insincere smile emblazoned on his face.
‘Good evening sister, who is your friend?’ he said looking me up and down with his narrow eyes.
‘This is John, he will be staying in your room tonight.’ Susan answered.
‘Oh, is that so? Pray, sister, tell me why?’ Peter challenged.
‘As a favour to your dear sister, who has helped you on many an occasion in the past. John, I am sure, will cause you no vexation; he intends on only sleeping somewhere warm and dry. This we can afford to supply him with, as he has indeed been much help to myself over the past few days. Peter, by the way, did you accompany the reverend to the meeting earlier?’
‘No, the reverend did not wish to take us along in case of a reprisal speech on the brutal physical violence he inflicted unlawfully upon Andrew. Verily sister, I doubt he knew you were gone at all.’
‘Well then,’ Susan smiled with relief, ‘that’s settled, as far as you know Peter, myself and John have been in my room all day. I have been teaching him the dangers of socialism and how the recent introduction of wages for MPs in collaboration with the emergence of the Labour Party, could mean a much darker Britain to follow as working class MPs will be introduced to the House of Commons bringing forth preposterous legislation that will hinder the aristocracy and our way of life.’
‘I’m afraid I was rather under the impression you were only in your room shortly, and whether or not you were discussing the contemporary political climate is of no consequence to me.’ Peter smiled, knowing he was winding his sister up.
‘I am not sure you understood me; you are in the knowledge we were in my room for the whole day, and you are so convinced of this, as if not it would mean your eyes to deceive you, that you would literally swear on oath in a court of law.’ Susan said sternly.
‘Fine, but you owe me for this Susan, and get those labourers clothes off for God’s sake,’ Peter frowned, ‘John, or whatever you name happens to be, there is a chair over there,’ he pointed vaguely, ‘feel free to sleep there or on the floor if it is more familiar to you, no doubt it will be to someone of your class.’ He smaned.
Susan thanked Peter begrudgingly and left. I settled on the chair and although it was not particularly comfortable I fell asleep quite easily due to my fatigue, which had come about from the events of the day.