Cairo
‘Out of the question,’ said Gaza.
She and Justin had appeared within minutes of Diana’s departure and called Cairo into the meditation room. All the Companions were there. Aden had insisted on coming in too, despite Gaza trying to block the door.
‘I’m her Partner,’ he’d said quietly. ‘This affects me. It affects my children.’
Gaza had looked enraged, but she’d stood back from the door. ‘Don’t interfere, Aden.’
Seeing Diana’s face had somehow telescoped time. It seemed to Cairo as though the years hadn’t passed. It was only yesterday that she was packing, with her mother and sister sitting on the bed.
‘Justin?’ she asked, appealing to him. ‘Isn’t there a chance of redemption? Mike might turn to you, since he’s facing death. Do you think I should go?’
Justin was standing with his back to the room, staring out of the window. He didn’t answer.
‘I promise to be back within a fortnight,’ she said. ‘I have children here. You know I’ll come back.’
There was a long silence before he turned around. ‘I’m sorry, Cairo. You can’t go. Here’s the reason … are you listening? The Last Day is imminent. If you leave Gethsemane now, you won’t be back in time. Believe me, you will not. They won’t let you. They’ll cancel your ticket, or steal your passport, or have you locked up in a psychiatric unit. They’ll use every trick—lies, blackmail, bribery. They’ll employ experts to mess with your mind. We’ve seen people driven mad by the mind games their families play. If you leave now, you won’t come back.’
‘You mean you won’t let me come back?’
Suddenly, he was angry. He crossed the room in two strides, gripped her chin between his fingers and tilted her face to look up at him. She stood very still. For the first time ever, she felt afraid of Justin.
‘I mean you will not come back,’ he said, with quiet precision. ‘Do you understand?’
She hardly recognised this man. There was no love in his gaze, no compassion or laughter. His mouth was a thin, contemptuous line. His fingers were bruising her face.
‘I do,’ she said. ‘I understand.’
‘So the subject is closed?’
She nodded.
His grip tightened. ‘Don’t question me again, Cairo. There isn’t time.’
The next moment he’d walked out of the room.
There was a short, tense pause before Liam let out his breath.
‘Okay. Whew. So that’s decided. Gaza, you’ll help Cairo write a letter to Mrs Howells?’
‘Certainly,’ said Gaza.
‘I’ll get someone to take it across as soon as it’s written. Cairo, I know it seems hard, but this is a classic way for negativity to come in. We can’t afford to lose you. The sooner we get shot of your mother, the better for everyone.’
Cairo knew what came next. She’d been through this before. They would go to the office, Gaza would dictate a letter, and Cairo would write it. All done and dusted. That was the Way.
Gaza was alight with energy and certainty. ‘Right!’ she said, opening the door. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
But Cairo hesitated. She stood as Justin had, gazing out at the scene she knew and loved more than any in the world. Dull thuds of pain throbbed on either side of her jaw where Justin had gripped her.
The face of the lake had darkened. Changes in the weather happened fast here. They caught people out. Boaters and trampers got into trouble and had to be rescued. She watched as rain made zigzag swathes across the water. A rainbow arched above the mountain, ghostly brightness projected over a granite sky, as though the air itself was stained with colour.
Mum will have got caught in the squall, she thought. I hope she got back okay. She looked older than I remember.
‘He’s dying though,’ she whispered. ‘He’s really dying.’
‘The world’s dying, my love,’ said Monika, laying a hand on her arm. ‘He’s just leaving a little early.’
They were all watching her.
They were waiting for her decision.
Diana
Hours had passed. Every time a vehicle pulled into the motel’s car park she rushed across to the glass doors, hoping for a miracle.
A blue sedan with a family crammed into it.
A man in a yellow truck, delivering a parcel.
A motorbike carrying teenagers.
A rusting white van.
She watched as it circled around the car park before coming to a stop near the door of her unit. A young man swung out of the driver’s side. Tall. Long nose, tidy hair. Canvas trousers and a jersey. Rather good-looking, in an old-fashioned way.
And then he was making a beeline for her door. She dropped the net curtain and stood with her back to it. Cassy wasn’t coming. They’d sent a messenger.
His knock was rapid, rattling the glass.
‘Mrs Howells?’ He had an open, friendly smile. ‘Hi, I’m Rome Calvin. I’m delivering a letter.’
She took the envelope and read Cassy’s handwriting: Diana. Mike.
‘Could you wait?’ she asked. ‘Come in, sit down for a minute. Perhaps I’ll need to send another message back with you.’
‘Sure,’ he said, and perched on an armchair while she opened the envelope.
There were two sheets of paper. She stood beside the window while she read them. One hand held the letters up to the light; the other pinched the loose skin at the front of her neck.
Dear Diana,
Thank you for coming all this way. I was very happy to see you.
But I’m sorry, I can’t come with you to England. It can’t happen. It will not happen. This is my home now. Please go back to Mike and take care of him. I’m also writing a letter for him.
I pray for both of you, and for Tara.
Love,
Cairo (Cassy)
Diana let out a shuddering breath, shutting her eyes for a moment before turning to the second letter.
Dear Mike,
I’m very sorry to hear you’re ill. You must be frightened. I wish I could see you again, but it isn’t possible.
This does not have to be the end. You can live forever! Are you well enough to travel here? If so, please come. Give yourself to Justin and let him be your king. Even though you’ve never met him, even though you’ve left it so late, I know that if you come to him he’ll open the gates and let you in.
Don’t worry about me. I want you to know that I am very, very happy. You have three grandchildren. Their names are Damascus, Quito and Havana. They are four, three and ten months old.
Damascus? Diana lowered the letter, narrowing her eyes. Damascus. Damascus … Wasn’t that the name of the little chap who met her at the jetty? The smaller one? I read my grandson a story today. She was thinking back, frantically trying to remember what he looked like. If only she’d known! She would have read him ten stories. She would have taken a photo, for Mike.
Damascus looks a lot like me. Havana and Quito are fair-haired and blue-eyed and even-tempered, just like their father. Aden is a really wonderful man. He’s a farmer, and very practical. I’m sorry you never got to meet him.
Mike, I forgive you for what happened in my childhood.
I pray that you will not die in ignorance, but will open your mind before it’s too late.
With love,
Cairo (Cassy)
‘Did Cassy write these?’ Diana asked.
Rome blinked. ‘Who? Oh—sorry. Yes, Cassy. Cairo.’
‘I don’t believe she wrote them herself,’ said Diana. ‘I don’t believe it for one second. Sorry to hear you’re ill … that’s not Cassy’s voice. And Mike’s not just ill. He’s dying!’
‘Oh no.’ The young man looked shaken. ‘I didn’t know that. I’m so, so sorry.’
Diana shoved the letters into her handbag. Her movements were quick and clumsy.
‘I’m not leaving without her,’ she said. ‘I came to get her for her father, and that’s what I’m bloody well going to do. If they think I’ve travelled twelve thousand miles just to go home alone, they’ve got another thing coming.’
‘Have you talked to Cairo?’
‘Five minutes! After five years! That’s what they generously allowed. And they didn’t give us a single second alone. There were bodyguards. A guy called Liam. Some woman—little, old …’
‘Monika?’
‘I’ve no idea. And a man who claims to be Cassy’s husband.’
Rome was pacing around the room, tapping the van’s keys against his teeth. He seemed so young. She’d assumed he was just a messenger.
‘How long can you stay in Rotorua?’ he asked.
‘A few days. My husband needs me.’
‘Okay. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘I’m desperate. If there’s anything you can do, anything at all …’
‘I’ll try.’ He drew an imaginary zip across his lips as he opened the door. ‘Don’t mention me to anyone. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.’
‘Is this the van?’ she asked, nodding at it. ‘The one she got into?’
‘Yep. I was there. We all knew, straight away, that she was special.’
Diana walked right around the vehicle, looking in with horrified fascination. For five years this thing had loomed in her imagination as somehow demonic. It was an evil trap. It was the Child Catcher’s carriage; the Pied Piper’s cavern.
It was just a battered old van, with a box of apples in the back.