The Father's House by Larche Davies Page A

colour was good. Her wonderful red hair was a mess and there was mud on her clothes. She had been chosen for her looks alright! Drax would be green with envy if he ever found out. He had a penchant for redheads. Part of her sleeve had been torn away, and her arm was bruising rapidly. She had obviously put up a struggle, so she had spirit. Copse liked strong women. It was such a triumph to master them.
    His wife, one of many, stood in the doorway watching him with sorrowful green eyes.
    â€œAt least she’ll be company for you,” he said
    She sighed. “Poor thing,” she said sadly, and turned away.
    Back in his study he sat at his desk with the Wives’ file in front of him. He recorded the date, and the name ‘as yet unknown’. He wrote a brief description of the girl’s colouring and approximate height. Tomorrow he would find out her name. Certainly she was a beauty, and whoever had tracked her down would have ensured she had brains. But he didn’t really want another wife. He wanted fewer, not more. He had had enough of wives. And he didn’t want more children either. Now he’d have two women upstairs living in the lap of luxury and costing him a fortune. If she proved amenable to conversion to the Holy Cause, he’d send her over to the commune. It’d be cheaper.
    All his hopes now lay with the post of deputy to the Holy Envoy. If he were to be appointed he would be able to hand over his domestic responsibilities to another father. He would just keep the woman upstairs, and, of course, the two children in the flat below. He had plans for them. The boy was the most handsome of all his sons, and he intended grooming him to become a father. As for the girl, well, she didn’t look up to much at the moment but, judging from her colouring and bone structure, she was going to be strikingly beautiful one day in an exotic sort of way. If he proved right about that he’d be able to use her for negotiating purposes with other fathers. He cursed when he remembered Lucy had brought dishonour on the household. It was just the sort of thing that could hamper his chance of promotion to the Deputy Envoy post, and would greatly please his fellow candidates, especially Father Drax.
    He sighed and rose to put the file away. The prospect of another wife and yet more children was an indication of the Magnifico’s trust in him as a true and valued follower, and he must bear his burden with gratitude. But he was so tired! A hot circle of pressure was squeezing his head. It came more frequently these days – his ring of fire, his crown of pain. The Magnifico was trying to tell him something, He picked up the intercom and phoned down to the kitchen for some coffee and a piece of chocolate cake.
    Sarah had just finished hand-washing Lucy’s clothes for the third night running. They were now dripping on the wooden airer over the bath, and she was about to go to bed. She pushed away the thought that the father had two hands and could have made his own coffee, and that he had two legs and could have come down to get his own cake.
    Lucy’s incarceration had upset her deeply, though of course it was not for her to question the Magnifico’s instructions. Bitterness raised its ugly head for a moment, but she managed to slap it down. She pushed some loose wisps of hair into the bun at the back of her head, washed her hands, and prepared the tray for its upward journey. Her reward was yet to come in the next world, and she looked forward to that.
    The woman upstairs peeped in on her new companion. She’d sleep for a while yet, the father had said when he left. Sleep? A charming euphemism for drugged up to the eyeballs.
    Wives had come and gone before, and Maria intended do all she could to persuade this latest one to pretend to take up the Holy Cause. If she could act convincingly enough she might be transferred to the commune where there was more chance of escape, perhaps even