The Father's House by Larche Davies Page A

wondering what was for dinner.
    When complete hush had fallen over the congregation the headmaster lowered his arms and spread out his plump hands. The twelve boys and girls who had reached their sixteenth birthdays by the beginning of March were lined up in the aisle that ran down the centre of the seating area. The girls were dressed in white and the boys in suits.
    Calling them up one by one the headmaster cut off their reminders with holy pliers and dropped them with an elaborate gesture into a sacred woven basket. He sent each child to the right, left, or middle of the stage. As they stood staring in embarrassment at their toes or the ceiling, or anywhere except at the audience of smirking school fellows, he began a long speech to the effect that they were now men and women and would be required to do their duty in the service of the Magnifico. His voice droned on and on.
    The first Holy Envoy stared accusingly at Lucy from the mural at the back of the stage. A cobweb hung down from the ceiling just above his head. It must have been difficult for him to rule the world if he was stuck with a sword and leaning on a rock. The current Holy Envoy would probably find it difficult too, even though he wasn’t stuck with a sword. How could anyone rule the whole world when everyone in it had a different way of looking at things? Lucy tore her eyes away and tried to focus on something else. A boy to her left was annoying the girl in front by gently tapping the back of her chair.
    Suddenly the headmaster’s voice changed.
    â€œAnd now,” he announced in triumphant tones, “we move on to the most significant moment in the lives of these young ladies.”
    Next to him the Holy Leader rose to his feet and came forward to a lectern at the side of the stage. Lucy pictured him washing his beard and drooping side curls in a wash basin. She didn’t like to think of him having a shower. It wouldn’t be respectful. Supposing he went bald? Would he have to wear false curls? She hastily pushed the thought away. Disrespect to the Magnifico’s servants was a sin.
    The
Holy Vision
lay open on the lectern. The Holy Leader’s voice was deep and solemn as he read.
    â€œAnd when a female has reached her seventeenth year, she shall be wed to the Magnifico body and soul to serve Him faithfully either as a mother or as an aunt to His children, or as His agent infiltrating the world of non-followers in furtherance of the Holy Cause.”
    He then turned to the girls and asked them to stand in a line before him. They stood meekly with their heads bowed, some gawky, some buxom, and some nothing in particular. He passed along the line placing his hand on the head of each of them in turn saying, “Do you promise to serve the Magnifico faithfully as his wife in whatever capacity he may allocate to you for the rest of your life?”
    Each girl murmured a promise.
    After a very long prayer and a hymn the young brides trooped awkwardly off the stage and down the centre aisle to the recorded sound of an organ. The boys followed, looking sheepish and self-conscious. One winked at the congregation and someone sniggered. Then came the headmaster and staff in solemn procession. As the ponderous music thundered out, the Holy Leader remained on the stage waving incense from side to side. Then he raised his hands, palms facing the audience, and said, “Bless you, my children. Now return to your classes.”
    That evening, after supper, Lucy sat in her hidey-hole in the back garden under the bush with the green and yellow spotted leaves. It was nearly dark and there was a nasty little wind, but she had a great deal to think about.
    The thought of marrying a father, once a distant curiosity, was now an utterly depressing reality. The fathers that Lucy had met at prayer meetings had all been chosen for their brains and their looks so that the Magnifico’s children would be clever and handsome. She had no reason to doubt