in on one of Valérie’s sermons. There might be comfort in that, finding faith . . . allowing herself to believe that Andy and Hannah were somewhere wonderful waiting for her, to believe she might see them again one day.
Better still, to have faith that God was looking down on Jacob and Leona, keeping them safe and well on the mainland and would one day soon lead them back home to her.
Her tired knees creaked on the second deck landing as a fresh gust of wind toyed with her cardigan and tickled the untidy tufts of her shorn hair.
Shit, that would be so easy.
She could hand the reins over to Valérie Latoc, let him organise things from now on; assign, rotate and shuffle the work schedules so that everyone was kept happy, the sleeping arrangements, the water runs, arbitrate over all the petty disputes and squabbles, make sure everyone was turning up each mealtime and getting a fair food allocation, as well as taking his turn shovelling human shit, scooping up bird poop, carrying heavy water butts from one terrace to the next, endlessly watering and nurturing their valuable crops.
Let him do all that.
She grabbed the guard rail and pulled her way to the top of the final flight of steps, stepping onto the top deck, cluttered with snaking lubeoil pipes, sump tanks and the flat-topped cooler units; a lunar landscape of blistered white paint and seam lines of rust. He was on the flat top of one of the cooler units, using it like a small stage. He was standing in the shadow of one of the towering twin vent stacks, the breeze playing with his long dark ringlets as he engaged an audience of listeners, perched amongst fat pipes, exhaust outlets and gauge panel cabinets, hanging onto his every word.
My God . . .
She realised it could be a scene from the Bible; that’s how the wily bastard was staging it. She was reminded of some old movie; a sermon on the mount, a young Robert Powell as an implausibly photogenic Jesus promising the meek that they’d inherit the whole shebang. She recognised young Edward amongst the audience, perfectly cast as the meek, smiling contentedly, perhaps even understanding some of what Latoc was saying.
So easy . . . to just give up and join them. How about it? You in?
But the scene transformed into satire as she recalled one of Andy’s favourite movies: The Life of Brian. She recalled one of the Pythons in the audience mis-hearing the phrase ‘peace-makers’, and asking what was so bloody special about the ‘cheese-makers’. Why the heck they should inherit the earth.
She looked again at Valérie Latoc and this time he didn’t look like Jesus. In fact he looked no more like a prophet than any number of orange-tanned television evangelists she’d seen on cable. No more like a prophet than any number of self-improvement gurus peddling their own brand of psychological snake oil. No more like a prophet than some oily timeshare or kitchen salesman.
‘Mr Latoc,’ she called out, her words whipped from her mouth by the stiff breeze.
Heads turned to look at her. So many familiar faces she was used to being greeted by, now distant and guarded - strangers to her.
He shaded his eyes from the sun as he turned to look at her.
‘Jennifer,’ he smiled pleasantly. ‘I presume you’ve come to discuss the sleeping plans?’
‘You’re damned right I have.’
Chapter 55
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
Valérie stared at her across the pile of blankets and cushions. He’d only been using these rooms on the top deck for the last few days, but had already managed to make some grubby rooms that had once been labelled the ‘System Monitoring Suite’ into a space that looked comfortable, inviting even - almost like some Bedouin tent.
‘We need the room,’ he replied. ‘There were too many coming to pray with me on that small rig where you were keeping me. Here we have room for as many as want to come, yes?’
She suspected his calm, even voice and that supercilious smile was his attempt to goad her.
‘Yes. But you’re kicking people off this platform, you can’t do that. Where people are bunked is down to me. And the way I do it, is to consult with them. See who wants to be where and—’
‘Those who need my guidance, need to be right here, Jennifer. And those who don’t, well . . .’ he spread his hands, ‘there is