Read Online Sidney Chambers and The Dangers of Temptation by James Runcie - Free Book Online Page A

cup in a flask. We sat down and talked about love and how you had to really trust someone to love them completely. I asked more and more questions because I wanted to see how hypocritical the man was. He went on and on and I almost laughed when he talked about the dangers of betrayal. I could only think about my father and what my mother had done to him. I said I needed a pee and walked off to get the scythe. Pascoe got into one of his crazy yoga positions, closed his eyes and started to meditate. I knew that I would have to attack him from behindand that it would have to be a surprise and this was the opportunity. I took off my coat and jumper so I just had my shirt on. I wanted to have my arms free. The first swing was right into the neck. It was hard to get the blade out. I even thought it might be stuck. I had imagined one blow, like an executioner. Then I realised it would need more and more and I was glad. It would take longer. He would feel more pain. I could take time to enjoy that, knowing that there was no one there to stop me.’
    ‘Did Pascoe know what was happening?’ Sidney asked. ‘Did he see the “necessary hatred” on your face?’
    ‘I wasn’t expecting so much blood. The man – I won’t say his name, I’ve always hated it – managed to gargle some kind of plea to stop but I just kept on. I had a little chant going.
Thrust in thy sickle and reap
. I was almost singing it. In the end it must have taken fourteen or fifteen blows and his eyes kept on blinking at me even after the head was off. That was quite funny. I thought he was still going to say something. The man looked surprised. He didn’t seem to be dead. Yet there it was, a severed head. Still bleeding, still living. I couldn’t believe that he could go on like that. It must have been pulsing for ten or fifteen seconds longer and I wondered whether he was still able to think; if he realised that he was dying and knew why and felt horrified. Did he think those things? Perhaps it was just horror. I looked down and it was almost as if I wanted to make the whole thing last longer. I could have started all over again, or cut his body to pieces, but then I hated myself and it was cold and I knew I had to get away and I didn’t want to look at that stupid face any more and so I kicked his head as far as I could and ran back to where I’d left my stuff.’
    ‘And that was where you hid your shirt and scythe?’
    ‘I shoved them into the undergrowth and put my jumper and coat back on. I looked back to check that I had really done all that, that it wasn’t a dream. I wanted to laugh. I had done it, after waiting so long, and no one had been able to stop me. Part of me wanted to take a photograph and post it to my mother. That’ll show her, I thought. But I knew that would incriminate me. So I just looked back and saw the body. I couldn’t see the head any more. Then I got closer and stood over the body and started swearing at it. Then I found his head and kicked it around until I was bored.
    ‘I went back to my room and lay on the bed and looked at the ceiling. I kept saying the mantra,
As for man, his days are as grass
. Pascoe taught us to keep a phrase in our heads when we meditate and it felt good to have used one to kill him. I turned his teaching back on him.
Thrust in thy sickle. What’s the mantra in your head now, you bastard?
’
    ‘And did you tell Tom what you had done?’
    ‘He guessed as soon as the police arrived.’
    ‘And afterwards, I think you took an overdose and pretended that it was a murder attempt. You must have taken sedatives from your father’s practice. Or perhaps they were your mother’s sleeping tablets? I remember when she first came to me she said that she could not sleep.’
    ‘None of this was hard.’
    ‘Your mother was frightened you might do something like this and brought me in to try and stop it. Unfortunately she didn’t spell out her concerns as boldly as she thought. Perhaps she was worried