All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,53

summer?’ she said, forcing lightness into her voice.

A weight was lifted when Safa smiled. ‘We’re off at the next stop,’ she said, and nodded to what Kat’s drifting fingers had drawn in the condensation.

It was the symbol of the Lonely People, a rogue droplet carving open the nesting doll to free the stick figure trapped inside. Kat shivered, and as they left the train she erased it with a swipe of her hand, the moisture shining through her skin.

The Trinity Church stood around the corner from Aaron’s house, a short, broad tower rising into a tiled spire, the nave following the line of the pavement until it broke into a small cemetery. A pathway through the headstones brought them to arched double doors, open and welcoming, soft organ music and choral voices spilling into the morning.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been inside a church,’ said Wesley.

‘Sshh, don’t tell him,’ said Aoife, pointing to the sky. ‘He’ll smite you down.’

Robbie huffed and pushed past them. ‘Let’s just go.’ He had been in a bad mood since they first met up, determined to make it clear that he was against this idea.

They crossed the threshold – Jae hastily pulling off his beanie hat and whispering an apology to the ether – and passed through a small, chilly lobby into the church itself. It was surprisingly bright, late-morning light streaming down from high windows spaced along the entire length to illuminate thick wooden roof beams, rows of sparsely populated pews, and a choir assembled between twin pulpits on a raised chancel at the front, the organ pipes on the wall behind them. The hymn they sang was slow and exultant, their voices rising and falling like the breath of a slumbering giant.

The congregation was spread out in couples and small groups, standing for the hymn, so the four of them shuffled along the central aisle and settled into a space a few pews from the front. A few people eyed them curiously, but weren’t put off their song.

‘That’s him,’ said Robbie, pointing to a boy at the back of the choir.

There were around twelve of them arranged into two rows and led by a conductor, a mix of men and women, young and old. Lukundo appeared to be among the youngest, though his smart shirt and straight-creased trousers could have belonged to a much older man. He smiled while he sang, eyes never once flicking to the hymn book in his hands.

‘What do we do now?’ whispered Wesley.

Robbie pressed a finger to his lips, and they settled into the hard-backed pew to listen. It was peaceful, letting the soft music wash over him. Wesley almost closed his eyes to enjoy it better, but was worried the others might notice.

The hymn wound up with a grand organ crescendo that made the subsequent silence feel like the air had been sucked from the room. The choir took a moment to catch its breath while the congregation settled back into their seats. A minister rose to the left-side pulpit to give the final blessing.

‘I’ve been told I have a nice singing voice,’ Jae whispered.

‘We’ll make sure to ask if you can join the choir,’ said Aoife.

The minister finished the blessing and bowed her head. ‘Amen.’ The congregation around them answered the same, before people began to talk or collect their things to leave. The organ spiralled up to play them out.

A few people moved to the front to speak to the minister. After a moment she broke away from them and stepped down to approach the group of newcomers, smiling kindly.

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?’

‘No, sorry,’ said Wesley, before pointing to Lukundo. ‘We actually came to see him.’

‘All right, give me a second and I’ll get him for you.’

They watched nervously as the minister pointed them out, Lukundo’s brow furrowing before he came down and edged into the pew ahead of them. ‘You’re waiting for me?’

‘Yeah,’ said Wesley, wishing he had planned what to say. ‘We actually came to ask about someone we think you know. Knew. Aaron Musley?’

‘Ah,’ said Lukundo, his expression brightening as if the name had jogged a pleasant memory. ‘Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately.’

The march was larger than Kat expected. The square from which it was due to start was already a sea of banners and placards. Chants bounced back and forth, jostling for air time with whistles and loudspeakers. Together they weaved through the bodies, pressing as close as the forcefield would allow. She wouldn’t turn