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We washed up in the house. I had another shower and scrubbed the slime and hay and stink from my skin. I pulled my telephone out from my bag and called Eva. I didn’t know what I wanted to say to her. I just wanted her to hear my voice and to hear hers, and to feel like everything was going to be okay.
I pressed the phone to my ear. Diana was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. The knife thudded against the wooden board between each ring in the receiver. She didn’t answer.
I stuffed the phone back into my bag, got dressed and joined Diana in the kitchen.
“Hungry?” she said.
I was starving, but having only recently pulled a calf out of a cow’s vagina, I didn’t feel too peckish.
“We can have chicken and potatoes, later.” She wore a blue and white apron tied closely around her neat little waist. “For now, I can poach some eggs?”
“That sounds amazing, Diana. Thank you.”
Diana clinked a pan full of water onto the hob and flicked the gas on. Christoph returned from cleaning up, but in the same clothes.
“Chicken?” he said.
Diana smiled, “Yes, chicken. Always chicken for you.”
“Thank God for chicken!” Christoph said, holding the raw bird aloft in two hands. He was like a kid after eating a bag of sweets. “Do you believe in God, John?”
His serious tone jarred with the uncooked chicken in his hands.
“Put it down, Christoph,” Diana said. He dropped the chicken down on the counter, kissing his wife on the forehead.
“I’d like to,” I said, wondering if it was a trick question.
“Well we have to baptise Eva tonight.” Christoph shuffled onto a kitchen counter, letting his legs dangle on the cupboards.
“You baptise the calves?”
Christoph jumped down from the counter.
“Yes, all of them. I began baptising them when they started jumping.” A ginger tomcat pattered into the kitchen, collar bell tinkling. Christoph scooped it up in his arms and scratched its chin. It purred. “Are you not baptised, John?”
“Yes, I was, as a baby.” You’re stuck with faith the same as cancer or dementia. It’s all out of your control.
“And what about now? If you could be without religion, you would be?”
“That’s a decision I don’t need to make,” I said.
Christoph kissed the cat on the nose.
“Diana, tell John your story.”
“What’s this?” I said.
“My wife has proof of God,” he said. “Something that happened to her, years ago.”
“Christoph,” she said. “You know I don’t like to tell this story.”
“Please.” Christoph dropped the cat and pulled a chair out for Diana.
She picked a plate from the drying rack and put it away in a cupboard.
“Diana,” Christoph urged.
Diana picked a broom from the corner and swept crumbs into a neat pile by the door. She ignored him.
“I don’t want to speak of it,” she said. “I hate remembering.”
“It’s a very troubling story,” Christoph whispered to me. “It’s a special story, Diana. I promise I won’t ask you to tell it ever again, just tell John what happened. I’ve made him curious now.”
I was curious. Once there’s something to be known it’s unbearable to go without knowing it. Diana stopped sweeping. She had her back to us, facing the door. After a moment, she untied her apron, hanging it on the back of the door, then joined us at the table.
“This is not an easy story for me to tell,” Diana said. “But it is true, every word. So please, don’t question it. I cannot explain it, but it happened.”
“Of course,” I said. Christoph nodded.
Diana licked her finger and dabbed at tiny crumbs on the tabletop.
“I visited London,” she began. “Years ago. I stayed with my cousin, in Clapham. One evening it was late, and very dark, I was lost. I was alone, completely alone. Just me.”
“Sure,” I said.
She looked confused at why I had spoken.
“I know Clapham.”
“The only way I knew to get home was through a dark alleyway, a tunnel. There was a man there. A big man, alone, right in the middle. He was waiting there. I thought about it a while, about whether I should do this or not. I thought I could pretend to be on the telephone, but he would know. I thought something bad would happen.”
“Tell him what you did, Diana!” Christoph clapped his hands in anticipation. It didn’t seem to matter that he had probably heard the story a dozen times before.
“I said a prayer. A few words, for protection, safe passage. And I walked through the tunnel.”
The water bubbled up to the brim of the saucepan.
“It was fine, I walked through past the man and nothing happened.”
The tomcat jumped up onto the counter, sniffing around for something to eat.
“But that’s not it,” Christoph said. “Tell him.”
“Give me a chance,” said Diana. “I was called to give evidence, soon after that night, as it turned out that man did attack a woman. He raped her.” She paused. Christoph squeezed her hand. “Right there, he did it. The place where I passed through just fine.” She locked her fingers together.
I was silent. Hairs on my back prickled up like pine needles. “Do you believe the prayer protected you?”
Diana ignored me. She didn’t look at me or Christoph. She just stared into the table.
“In court, I saw him, the same man, on trial, I knew his face. He was charged with rape and faced 5 years in prison.”
“That’s all he got?” I said. I wasn’t sure if either of them heard me.
“When I gave my evidence, my statement, about when I was there, and was it him I recognised, the judge asked him why he didn’t attack me, why I wasn’t the victim – something I had been thinking about ever since I heard the news.” Tears lingered on her cheeks.
The water spilled over the saucepan, bubbling and evaporating over the edge into hot air. Christoph jumped up and reduced the gas, bridging a wooden spoon across the saucepan.
“You’ll never guess what he said.” Christoph picked up the cat and cradled it like a babe.
“He said, ‘Why would I attack her, when she was walking with two big men?’”
“But she was alone that night, completely.
