Unfortunately for me, the corridor that leads to the corridor that leads to the hallway that leads to the corridor where the hospital chapel is, is devoid of any kind of vomit receptacle. They should know by now, I thought. There should be sick buckets on every corner. It would save so much money on mops. Suzie kept her arm in mine and I focused on her words, trying to ignore the rising nausea crashing through me, pulling on the back of my tongue, willing it down, encouraging me to gag.
‘… I read this one that was so good …’
I felt the pins and needles pricking the ends of my fingers. It would go. It would go as quickly as it came. I just had to get through this next bit.
‘… so there’s this murder on a harbour and this fisherman has been stabbed, and they can’t match the wound to any kind of weapon. Sorry’ – she stopped – ‘is that too graphic? You’re not squeamish, are you?’
I just smiled and shook my head. We walked slowly onwards.
‘Anyway, the next murder is this man on a car park roof in a rainstorm, and he’s been stabbed, but nobody knows where the weapon is. But the next murder is in this school, but that’s where they get the crucial clue – when they test the third victim’s blood, they find that it’s been diluted with water.’
We went through the final set of doors and I could see the chapel ahead of us. It became symbolic – if I could fight every natural instinct in my body that was telling me to bend over and heave for all I was worth, then I would be okay.
‘And so they realize that because the car park of the second murder had been wet and the harbour had obviously been wet, they had missed the clues – that the weapon was made of ice, and that rather than hide the weapon, the killer just left the ice dagger in his victims and it melted before they arrived. Isn’t that cool?’
I nodded.
‘Anyway, it ends with the woman detective and the man detective getting together, and then they go ice skating and they make this joke about being careful because ice can be very dangerous. I think it would make a great film, I read it all in two days!’
I don’t think anyone has ever described a book plot to me that I’ve actually wanted to read.
Suzie was walking more slowly as we got closer to the chapel, so she could tell me more. I let myself free of her grip.
‘Thank you for taking me,’ I said. My voice sounded weird. Tight. Not mine.
‘No trouble,’ she said. ‘I hope I didn’t bore you!’
I waved my hand at her to tell her she didn’t.
‘I’ll come and get you in an hour, then?’
‘Thanks.’ I pushed open the heavy door of the chapel before she could say anything else, not sure if I was going to vomit or fall on my knees and pray. I barrelled into Father Arthur’s sizeable stomach and we both rebounded, not quite sure what had happened.
‘Lenni?’ he said, unable to conceal his joy.
‘I came for mass.’
‘You’re just in time,’ he said, and I looked into the chapel to spot the only other member of the congregation – an elderly man in striped pyjamas with a suit jacket over the top. I looked from the single congregant to Father Arthur, who just shrugged. I like that he doesn’t pretend any more.
Father Arthur was dressed for the occasion in his black trousers and shirt, with a long scarf thing around his neck that had grapes sewn onto it.
I seated myself on the third row. I didn’t want to be on the front row in case there was audience participation. The nausea was fading now that I was sitting down, and I watched Father Arthur light the final candles in the corner and turn on the hymn music on the CD player.
The old man on the front row sniffed loudly, and then pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his suit jacket and blew his nose into it. Then he opened the handkerchief and inspected the contents before folding it back up and putting it into his top pocket.
Father Arthur moved smartly to the front of the church and paused for a moment to take us both in. His flock. His sheep. Just waiting to be welcomed into the woolly fold of Jesus’ love.
‘Welcome,’ he said.
And I took it in. The words, the music, everything. And I didn’t even laugh when the old man on the front row’s head bobbed forward as he fell asleep. But then he snored, loudly. A rasping inhalation that was suddenly broken when his head shot up and he shouted ‘Theodore?!’ And then, I did laugh. And Father Arthur laughed too.
Margot and President Ho Chi Minh
MARGOT WAS WEARING lilac. The sunlight hit the tops of the desks around her and made her look like she was shining.