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Difficulties pile up…
He wants to woo when the time comes.
The maiden is chaste,
She does not pledge herself.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
‘You’re all right now,’ said a low voice in Robin’s ear, as Mazu swept past. ‘It’s over. You did well.’
Robin turned, realised it was Taio Wace who’d taken hold of her, and wrenched her arm free. His expression darkened.
‘Sorry,’ said Robin, mopping her tearstained face on her sleeve. ‘I – thank you—’
‘That’s better.’
Taio replaced his hand around her upper arm, the knuckles pressing into her breast, and this time, Robin didn’t resist.
‘Revelation’s always difficult, the first time you do it,’ said Taio.
Robin permitted him to lead her out of the temple, trying to stem the streaming of her nose with her free forearm. Mazu had disappeared, but the rest of the group was now heading for Daiyu’s pool. They threw furtive glances at Taio and Robin as they crossed the courtyard without stopping.
It wasn’t until he led her down the passage between the men’s and women’s dormitories, which was so familiar to her from her nocturnal journeys into the woods, that Robin realised where he was leading her. Sure enough, moments later they were pushing through the bushes that screened the Retreat Rooms. Robin had a split second to decide what to do: she was certain there’d be no going back if she pulled away from Taio, that her status would plummet to a point from which there’d be no recovery. She also knew Strike would advise freeing herself and leaving immediately; she could see her partner’s expression now, hear his anger that she hadn’t taken his warnings, and she remembered assuring him that the UHC only used emotional coercion, that there was no possibility of rape.
The glass door of the nearest Retreat Room slid open. Author Giles Harmon stood there, wearing a velvet jacket, his hand still on the flies he’d clearly just zipped up, his dandyish hair silver in the midday sunshine.
‘Giles,’ said Taio, sounding surprised and none too pleased.
‘Ah, hello, Taio,’ said Harmon, smiling.
There was a small movement in the cabin behind Harmon and to Robin’s horror, Lin emerged, looking dishevelled and slightly sick. Without meeting anyone’s eyes she walked quickly away.
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ said Taio, maintaining his hold on Robin’s upper arm.
‘Arrived this morning,’ said Harmon, who seemed untroubled by Taio’s tone. ‘I’ve spotted a marvellous opportunity. The British Association of Creatives is looking for sponsorship for their Ethics and Art project. If the UHC were minded to, I think we could broker a really fruitful partnership.’
‘That’ll need discussion by the Council,’ said Taio.
‘I’ve emailed Papa J,’ said Harmon, ‘but I know he’s busy, so I thought I’d come down here and talk over the practicalities with you and Mazu. Thinking of staying a few days,’ he said, theatrically breathing in the country air. ‘Such a blissful change after London.’
‘OK, well, we can talk in the farmhouse later,’ said Taio.
‘Oh, of course, of course,’ said Harmon, with a small smile, and for the first time his eyes alighted briefly on Robin. ‘See you there.’
Harmon walked away, humming to himself.
‘Come on,’ said Taio, and he tugged Robin into the cabin Harmon and Lin had just vacated.
The dingy, wood-walled interior was roughly fifteen feet square and dominated by a double bed covered with a much-stained and crumpled sheet. Two grubby pillows lay on the floor and a naked lightbulb hung from its flex over the bed. The shed-like smell of pine and dust mingled with a strong odour of unwashed human.
As Taio pulled a thin curtain over the sliding glass doors, Robin blurted,
‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t what?’ said Taio, turning to face her. His scarlet tracksuit top stretched over his large belly, he smelled stale; his hair was greasy and his pointed nose and small mouth had never seemed more rat-like.
‘You know what,’ said Robin. ‘I just can’t.’
