Confessional - Jack Higgins [86]
'Like an actor?' she said.
'That's it exactly, except that like any good actor, they must believe in the role they are playing at that particular time.'
She lay back in the seat, half-turned towards him, arms folded, listening intently and it struck him then that, in spite of her background and the sparseness of any formal education in her life, she was obviously highly intelligent.
'I see,' she said. 'So when you pose as a priest, you actually become a priest.'
The directness was disturbing. 'Something like that.' They sat there in silence for a few moments before he said softly, 'You saved my hide back there. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have been in handcuffs again.'
'Again?' she said.
'I was picked up by the police yesterday. They were taking me to Glasgow in the train, but I managed to jump for it. Walked over the hill from there and met you.'
'Lucky for Donal,' she said. 'Lucky for me, if it comes to that.'
'Murray, you mean? Has he been a problem for long?'
'Since I was about thirteen,' she said calmly. 'It wasn't so bad while my Mam was still with us. She kept him in check. But after she left...' She shrugged. 'He's never had his way with me, but lately, it got worse. I'd been thinking of leaving.'
'Running away? But where would you go?'
'My grandma. My mother's mother. She's a true gypsy. Her name's Brana - Brana Smith, but she calls herself Gypsy Rose.'
'I seem to have heard a name like that before,' Cussane said, smiling.
'She has the gift,' Morag told him seriously. 'Second sight in all things, with the palm, the crystal or the Tarot cards. She has a house in Wapping in London, on the river, when she isn't working the fairgrounds with the travelling shows.'
'And you'd like to go to her?'
'Granda always said I could when I was older.' She pushed herself up. 'What about you? Do you intend to make for London?'
'Perhaps,' he said slowly.
'Then we could go together.' This she said to him calmly and without emotion, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
'No,' he said flatly. 'I don't think so. For one thing, it would only get you deeper in trouble. For another, I have to travel light. No excess baggage. When I have to run, I have to run fast. No time to think of anyone but me.'
There was something in her eyes, a kind of hurt, but she showed no emotion, simply got out of the jeep and stood at the side of the track, hands in pockets. 'I understand. You go on from here. I'll walk back down the glen.'
He had a momentary vision of the wretched encampment, imagined the slow and inevitable brutalization of the years. And she was worth more than that. Much more.
'Don't be stupid,' he said. 'Get in!'
'What for?'
'I need you to drive the jeep, don't I, while I follow the map? Down through the glen below and over that centre hill. There's a farm in a place called Glendhu outside Larwick.'
She got behind the wheel quickly, smiling. 'Have you friends there?'
'Not exactly.' He reached for his bag, opened it, pulled open the false bottom and took out the bundle of banknotes. 'This is the kind of stuff they like. What most people like if it comes to that.' He pulled several notes off, folded them and put them in the breast pocket of her old reefer coat. 'That should keep you going till you find your grannie.'
Her eyes were round in astonishment, 'I can't take that.'
'Oh yes, you can. Now get this thing moving.'
She selected a low gear and started down the track carefully. 'And what happens when we get there? To me, I mean?'
'We'll have to see. Maybe you could catch a train. On your own, you'd probably do very well. I'm the one they're really after, so your only real danger is in being with me.'
She didn't say anything to that and he studied the map in silence. Finally, she spoke again. 'The business about me and Murray. Does that disgust you? I mean, the wickedness of it?'
'Wickedness?' He laughed softly. 'My dear girl, you have no conception of what true wickedness, real evil, is like, although Murray is probably animal enough to come close. A priest hears more of sin in a