Hailstone (5 page)

John looked from her to the potatoes on the sideboard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I do still need to attend to some business in Hailstone this afternoon. Excuse me, Magdalene. Preacher, I’ll see you later.”

Magdalene watched him go. She wondered if he should have just married Preacher and be done with it. “Well gosh,” she said when he was gone. “All on my own again.”

Preacher’s expression softened, as much as was possible in the man. “I know you’re left on your own too often,” he said. “It’s not healthy for a woman to be alone. You’ll come with me to the church and continue the prayer you started with Amanda. I’ve got an interview there.”

“What kind of interview?” Magda washed up the tea cups.

Preacher straightened his shoulders. His mouth settled into a smug line. “The Hailstone Herald is running a series on the city’s most influential personalities, including me. I’d like to see Adam Seymour make it into a prestigious list like that, especially in the city’s foremost newspaper.”

Magda made a sound that was half-snort, half cough, to cover what should have been a scream of laughter.

Preacher patted her on the back. “There now,” he said. “I know it’s big news. Perhaps if you work hard and pray every day like I do, one day you’ll be in the paper too.”

*

Magda had never liked the church. The hall was too cavernous, the shadows too deep. It was always cold and it smelled like wax, or sometimes fear. Nobody ever knew when Preacher was going to decide some unfortunate soul should be exorcised; three times over the years it had been her. She’d sworn never again after the last one, no matter what it took. Exorcisms of anybody else tended to reduce her to a quivering, nervous wreck in the back pew. The last time, when Joseph had been the victim, she’d left bloody holes in her palms from her own fingernails and narrowly escaped being mistaken for a stigmatic. Preacher would have loved that a little too much.

Today was different. Today a shaft of sunlight speared straight through the window above the pulpit and lit up the synthetic red hair of Kat Catrall
while she interviewed Preacher.

Magda stayed in her pew, out of Kat’s sight, and watched. She listened carefully to the questions Kat posed, and to Preacher spouting his usual answers. She watched the way Kat listened, nodded every so often, and looked incredibly serious whenever Preacher spoke. She wore a full business suit today; Preacher normally didn’t like women who wore trousers, but he said nothing to this woman. Of course not. He wanted to be in the paper.

After a while she slipped out of her pew and went very softly outside, so as not to distract them. She leaned against the wall of the church and breathed in the cold late afternoon air. The sinking sun turned the colours around her into deeper shades of themselves; redder rooves, greener leaves in the trees that lined the road, longer, blacker shadows. Magda lit a cigarette and held it cupped and hidden in her hand in case anyone drove past. She waited.

Kat appeared after about ten minutes. “Hey,” Magda said when she walked past.

Kat jumped. “Hi! I didn’t see you there!” She paused. “Magda? Is that you? Why are you dressed like–er–” she gestured at the church. “One of them?”

Magda shrugged. “I get in trouble with Preacher if I don’t.”

Kat took a step closer. She studied her face. “Why should you care?”

“He’s my Daddy. Is that your car?”

Kat nodded at the blue station wagon parked by the curb. “You want to go somewhere?”

“Yeah. Take me out for coffee. Quick, before Preacher comes looking for me.”

“Are you going to get dragged off by your husband again?”

“P
robably. Are you scared of him?”

Kat chuckled. “Not if you aren’t. Get in.”

Magda slid into the passenger seat. She watched Kat’s skirt slide up a little while she got in, started the car and pulled out into the road. She ducked her head until they were well away from the church.

“Preacher’s daughter, huh?” Kat asked, once they were on the highway. “That explains a lot.”

Magda shrugged. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle of that. Preacher messes up everything.”

Kat took an exit off the highway and coasted into the inner city. “I thought you’d been kidnapped by the mob or something. I very nearly ran you on the front page,
but Adam practically begged me to leave it alone.” She pulled over in front of a corner coffee shop that had tables outside covered by big white umbrellas. “Will this do?”

“Sure.” Magda got out and sat with Kat at the table furthest away from other patrons. A girl came out and took their order, then disappeared.

Magda watched Kat curiously. She was all business today. “What’s your article really about? The one with Preacher and Adam?”

Kat grinned. “Leading lights of the city? It’s an in-depth look at both sides of the alcohol debate. But I’m framing it as profiles of the faces of the debate, because I figured I’d get more out of Preacher that way.”

Magda giggled. “Will they be on the same page?”

“Opposing pages. Big pictures.”

“Gosh, you won’t be popular with Preacher next week. Not if you put him beside Adam.”

Kat shrugged. “It’s not my job to be popular. It’s my job to give the city a balanced view of the issue.”

“What did Preacher tell you?”

“Same thing he says on TV every other week. Disintegrating moral fabric, young people on the streets, alcohol is a scourge. He said the church was building a special program to help people overcome their addictions. Apparently he’s opening up a bunch of outreach centres.”

“Really?” Magda frowned. “He hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

“Would he normally?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps not. Most times he’s more interested in curing my supposed delinquency. He got awful mad when I got home drunk last night.”

Kat chuckled. “Anti-alcohol Preacher’s alcoholic daughter? Hell of a headline.”

“Don’t put me in your paper.” Magda watched the coffee land on the table in front of them.

“You’re not in the
Congregation of your own free will, are you?” Kat looked serious again. “Adam was right, wasn’t he? That church is like a cult.”

“I don’t know what a cult is like. I’ve never known anything but the church.” Magda sighed. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to run that for a story. But not yet.” She tilted her head. “I like you, Kat.”

“I’m not gay.” Kat’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Just in case you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

“Okay. But I still like you. Can I have your phone number?”

Kat flicked her over a business card. “My mobile’s on there.”

“Are you covering the rally tomorrow?”

“Taking photos of a street full of angry Christians isn’t my idea of fun, but since I’m covering the whole issue, I guess I’ll have to.”

“If you see me there, don’t take a photo. I’m probably going to get dragged along.”

“If you hate it so much, leave.”

Magda took a sip of her coffee. “You sound like Adam. It’s not so easy, you know.” She eyed a car that pulled off the road and idled by the
curb in front of them and sighed. “Case in point. Don’t look around Kat, just keep your back to the road in case he recognises you.”

“Who?” Kat did as asked.

“My husband.”

The window wound down. “Magdalene get in the car,” John said.

“I have to go. I’ll be seeing you.” Magda left some money on the table for the coffee and got into the car. There, she gave John her biggest, most charming smile. “I’m so glad to see you. My friend there was going to help me jumpstart my car, but then we realised she had no jumper leads. Have you got some? It’s just around the corner from here.”

Wednesday

A loud thump on her door woke Magda up.

“Get up Magdalene!” John called from the other side. “It’s time to get ready!”

Magda groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She peeked up at the clock; 11am. She’d overslept. No wonder, she was still exhausted from two days ago. She always felt exhausted when John was home. Constant surveillance did that to a woman. She hadn’t locked her door last night; the man couldn’t stand her, he wouldn’t come in. But he’d watched her every move, from the moment she got in his car. He’d watched her while he jumpstarted her car and he’d tailgated her all the way home.

Now what did he want? She crawled out of bed and dressed in the clothes she hated. She downed a pill, chased it with the last mouthful of vodka from the bottle in her bag and stuffed the empty bottle in the back of her closet. She could easily have slept all day.

She pushed open her door and listened down the hall. If she was quick, she might make it out of the front door before he ever knew she was awake. She could spend the day relaxing down at the river, or go down to Adam’s little downstairs bar and drink herself stupid.

The front door slammed. Magda jumped
when Preacher’s voice echoed through the house. “Is she up yet? The car’s packed and ready to go.”

Crap. Magda closed her eyes and sighed. The rally. Of course. A day to herself would be far too much to ask.

“Magdalene.” John appeared at the end of the hall. “Time to go now.”

“Do I have to?” she could barely keep the plaintive note out of her voice. “I’m so tired, John. I’d rather stay home.”

The look he gave her was barely civil. “Get in the car,” he said.

Magda matched his look. Then she crossed the hall and laid her hand on his arm. “Good morning, darling.” She kissed him on the cheek.

He pulled away and rubbed his arm. God, the man couldn’t even stand her touch, no wonder he rarely came home. Magda smiled at him. She felt a surge of power in her ribs. She liked having a way of making John as miserable as he made her.

“Come along, Magdalene,” Preacher said from the kitchen. “I want to see you front and centre at this rally. Some people in the
Congregation doubt your commitment to the cause after recent events. I want them set straight. Here, take this to my car. You go in John’s car though, there’ll be no room left in mine.”

“Yes Preacher.” Magda staggered under the weight of the box he handed her, but since no other help was forthcoming, took it out the front herself and shoved it into Preacher’s open boot. His back seat was stuffed with placards. He must be expecting the entire
Congregation to turn out, and then some.

She leaned in and turned over one of the placards.
Hells Bells Vodka. Named after its maker,
it said.

“Well that’s just moronic.” Magda turned over another.
Protect our children,
it said, and underneath that was a picture of Adam’s face with a big cross through it.

Every hair on Magda’s body stood on end. She slammed the door shut and backed away from the car. If she’d believed in God, she would have prayed for a way out of going to this rally, but she didn’t and there wasn’t one. Preacher and John locked up the house and joined her in the driveway.

“Don’t look so frightened, Magdalene, it’s just a rally,” Preacher said. “You’ll be quite safe. The entire Congregation will be there.”

Magda got in the car next to John. He ignored her completely and followed Preacher’s car out of the driveway.

Magda reached for her phone with numb fingers. She tapped out a message to Adam.
Don’t be at City Square this morning. Under any circumstances.
She pressed send.

“Who are you messaging?” John asked.

“Just a friend. Reminding her about the rally.” Magda shoved her phone back in her bag and stared out of the window. The highway flew by. They turned off; cars packed all of the streets around City Square, the one place in Hailstone where big gatherings could happen. It was two blocks from the nightclub district. Magda liked to avoid it, because Congregation people tended to hang around there handing out leaflets. She wouldn’t be seen dead with even one of those dropkicks.

Except today, when she was supposed to be seen very much alive with every single one of them. Magda stared at the crowd that packed the Square when they drove past, looking for parking.

John parked three blocks away and they walked back to the Square together. Before they reached their destination, his fingers squeezed her arm a little harder than necessary. “I’m going to join Preacher,” he said. “Don’t disappoint him today, Magdalene. I’m sure I can trust you to behave yourself in this crowd.”

Magda gave him her most innocent look. “Would I go out of my way to disappoint my own father?”

“You know sometimes I think you’re not right in the head.” John released her arm as though his fingers had been burned. He walked into the crowd.

“Fuck you too,” Magda muttered at his back.

“Mags!” Joseph beckoned to her from the edge of the crowd.

Magda followed him into the press of knee length skirts, suits and collars. They pushed their way through to the fountain in the middle of the Square.

“I heard you got drunk and swore at Preacher,” Joseph said, when they were seated at the edge of the fountain.

Magda chuckled. “Now Joseph, does that sound like me?” She took a second look at him; the edge of an ugly, purplish bruise was just barely hidden by his sunglasses. “Your Daddy lay into you too?”

“Yeah, but what else is new?”

“You know technically you’re still a child. You could tell the police or something. They might give you another place to live.”

“Because that all worked for you, right
? Come on, Mags, you’ve heard it as often as I have. The mayor wouldn’t do that. Not to his own son. You know what’s really fucked up? You’re an adult and you let Preacher keep beating on you. I turn eighteen next week. The minute I do, I’m out of here.” Joseph took off his glasses and showed her an eye that was swollen shut. “In the meantime, look at this pack of assholes. Look at them, Magda.”

Magda glanced around. Preacher had climbed up on a makeshift platform at the front of the square and was yelling bile down a microphone. The crowd shouted back. The placards passed from hand to hand. Adam and Satan featured together on far too many of them for her liking.

“If I were you I’d get out too,” Joseph said. “I had a friend at school for a while who wasn’t in the Congregation. He said the church is a cult. Do you know what happens in cults, Mags? The leader makes everybody commit suicide. It’s happened before.”

Magda watched Preacher and tried to imagine him making everyone commit suicide. She supposed he could if he wanted to. Most of the people in this square would jump off a cliff like lemmings for him.

“Hey.” Joseph leaned toward her. “I’m going to fuck this rally up.”

“Oh?” Magda gave him her full attention. She recalled she’d sold him black market firecrackers not so long ago. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”

“Probably. Go up front and pretend like you care what Preacher says. Wait ten minutes.” Joseph disappeared into the crowd.

Magda composed herself. It wouldn’t do to walk up there grinning like an over-excited clown. She pushed her way through the crowd and presented herself front and centre, just like Preacher wanted. She stood motionless in a line of bobbing, placard-waving, yelling fanatics. John was up there behind Preacher, taking charge of the microphones and sound. The Mayor was there too; Joseph’s father was a short, rounded, self-important creature who sat in the front row at church every Sunday and made long, boring speeches at every civic occasion. She’d seen him take to Joseph with a stick once, when nobody knew she was watching.

Preacher raised his hands. The audience hushed like a horde of well-trained puppies.

“I feel the presence of God here today!” he roared.

The crowd roared back.

When they quieted, he continued. “Today we begin our campaign in earnest. We, the Congregation of the Holy Bible, are determined! We have God on our side! We are the light of Hailstone, and we
will
rid this city of the Devil’s scourges that plague it! We
will
save each and every citizen from the evils of a Godless world! Today, we embark on the first step of a holy crusade. Today we demand that Hailstone become the first alcohol free city!”

The crowd roared approval. John pulled a rope; a three foot tall Hells Bells vodka poster unfurled on the wall behind Preacher.

The crowd hushed. “This is our enemy,” Preacher intoned. He lit a candle.

Magda pressed her hand to her mouth and wished she could disappear into the ground. She watched John splash the poster with the contents of a bottle of kerosene and wondered if anybody else saw that while Preacher made a big deal of the candle.

“This is the eternal light of God!” Preacher swept his arm out in the most melodramatic gesture Magda had seen from him yet and touched the candle to the poster.

The whole thing went up in flames.

The crowd stayed silent for three seconds. Then they roared themselves into a frenzy.

Preacher held up his hands. “We have a very special guest with us today,” he said, when quiet returned. “Allow me to welcome our Mayor, Joe Georgiou. He is, I’m happy to say, an ardent supporter of our cause. He will now say a few words.”

The mayor mounted the podium. His little round face gleamed with sweat. Magda didn’t listen to anything that came out of his mouth. She would have walked away, but Preacher looked at her. He held her pinned to her place with nothing more than that look and the threat it held.

But she stayed still. She refused to dance or sway or wave a placard. Even when John marched over to her and shoved a placard into her hand.

“...the City of Hailstone,” the Mayor concluded, and the robots around her cheered wildly.

Magda noticed the cameras for the first time. They were from Christian TV, the only Hailstone-based TV station. Preacher had a controlling share in the station, and for most Congregation households, it was the only TV anybody was allowed to watch.

The cameras turned away from the Mayor and panned the crowd. One pointed right at her. Of course it did. They wanted a shot of Preacher’s daughter supporting her father. Preacher had probably told them to.

She dropped her placard, showed the camera a stiff middle finger and walked into the crowd.

Right on cue, there was a sound like a thunderclap in the middle of the Square. People already on the edge of religious hysteria ducked and screamed.

Magda stood where she was and grinned. Fireworks shot up over the fountain and exploded in the midday sky.

Pandemonium. Magda glanced over her shoulder; Preacher and John were far too busy trying to maintain calm to worry about her. She bolted through the crowd and down a side street.

It took a moment for the noise of the crowd to abate. Her ears buzzed. Her head throbbed, but only faintly. Magda lit a cigarette and leaned back against the wall of the alley. She wondered if Kat was somewhere in the crowd, getting all this action.

Her phone started to sing at her. Magda checked the screen, just to make sure it wasn’t Preacher. Adam’s name came up; she flipped it open. “Hey there.”

“Hello gorgeous! What are you doing?”

“Hiding in an alley from a pack of religious types who want to ban alcohol,” she said.

“Is that why you messaged me before?”

“Uh – huh. Adam this is some freaky shit. Preacher is starting to scare me.”

“Darling the man scared me from the first day I laid eyes on him. He wears a grey tie!”

“I’m serious Adam. They just burned a Hells Bells Vodka poster. Half their placards say you’re the devil.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. He sighed in her ear. “Look, I know, sweetie. And I appreciate you looking out for me, but honestly, they’re not going to get far with their little campaign. Let them have their rally and get it out of their system. The rest of us will carry on regardless. Nobody’s going to ban Vodka, Hailstone’s entire economy would collapse. What do they think, they can give everyone I employ a job arranging flowers for the church?”

Magda giggled. “I guess.”

“Now do you want me to come and get you or what? There’s a big party on at Pantheon tonight.”

“No, don’t come out here. I’ll meet you somewhere else.” The back of her neck prickled. She turned around, but too late to prevent any damage being done.

John’s entire beard quivered. He took the phone from her. “Stay away from my wife.” He flipped it shut, then plucked the cigarette from Magda’s fingers and threw it away. “I knew Amanda couldn’t have cured you,” he said. “Nothing can cure the devil. I’m just sad Preacher believes your lies. It’s obvious you continue to smoke cigarettes. Do you still drink, too?”

Magda made a swipe for her phone. He held it out of her reach. “Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “What does Satan command of you? Are you committing adultery too? With this man?” He shook the phone when it started ringing again.