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‘That sounds as though Will was angry. Why should he be angry with you?’
‘He didn’t like me talking about the letters,’ said Robin. ‘He seemed to take it really personally.’
There was a short silence in which Jonathan’s eyes met Mazu’s. Robin didn’t dare look at the latter. She felt as though she’d read her ultimate fate in Mazu’s crooked eyes.
Jonathan turned back to Robin.
‘Did you, at any time, mention the death of family members?’
‘Not death,’ lied Robin. ‘I might’ve said, “What if something happened to one of them?”’
‘So you continue to see relationships in materialist terms?’ said Wace.
‘I’m trying not to,’ said Robin, ‘but it’s hard.’
‘Did Emily really earn all the money that was in her collection box at the end of your trip to Norwich?’ asked Wace.
‘No,’ said Robin, after a pause of several seconds. ‘I gave her some from the stall box.’
‘Why?’
‘I felt sorry for her, because she hadn’t got much on her own. She wasn’t very well,’ Robin said desperately.
‘So you lied to Taio? You misrepresented what had really happened?’
‘I didn’t… I suppose so, yes,’ said Robin hopelessly.
‘How are we supposed to believe anything you say, now we know you’re prepared to lie to church Principals?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Robin, again allowing herself to cry. ‘I didn’t see it as being a bad thing, helping her out… I’m sorry…’
‘Small evils mount up, Rowena,’ said Wace. ‘You may say to yourself, “What does it matter, a little lie here, a little lie there?” But the pure spirit knows there can be no lies, big or small. To promulgate falsehoods is to embrace evil.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Robin again.
Wace contemplated Robin for a moment, then said,
‘Becca, fill in a PA form and bring it back to me, with a blank.’
‘Yes, Papa J,’ said Becca, and she strode out of the room. When the door had closed, Jonathan leaned forwards and said quietly,
‘Do you want to leave us, Rowena? Because, if so, you’re completely free to do so.’
Robin looked into those opaque dark blue eyes and remembered the stories of Kevin Pirbright and Niamh Doherty, of Sheila Kennett and Flora Brewster, all of which had taught her that if there were any safe, easy route out of Chapman Farm, it wouldn’t have taken bereavement, mental collapse or night-time escapes through barbed wire to free them. She no longer believed the Waces would stop short of murder to protect themselves or their lucrative fiefdom. Wace’s offer was for the camera, to prove Robin had been given a free choice that was, in reality, no choice at all.
‘No,’ Robin said. ‘I want to stay. I want to learn, I want to do better.’
‘That will mean performing penance,’ said Wace. ‘You understand that?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin, ‘I do.’
‘And do you agree that any penance should be proportionate to your own self-confessed behaviour?’
She nodded.
‘Say it,’ said Wace.
‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘I agree.’
