It meant the threat was already here.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. It opened— And Professor Fosca was standing there.

He smiled. ‘May I join you?’

14

‘Forgive me for being late,’ Fosca said. ‘There was something I had to attend to.’

Mariana frowned slightly. ‘I’m afraid we’ve already started.’

‘Well, might I still be allowed in?’

‘That’s not up to me; it’s up to the group.’ She glanced at the others. ‘Who thinks Professor Fosca should be admitted?’

Before she had even finished speaking, five hands were raised around the circle. All except hers.

Fosca smiled. ‘You didn’t raise your hand, Mariana.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. But I am overruled.’

Mariana felt the energy in the room change as Fosca joined them in the circle. She sensed the girls tense up, and she noticed a quick look was exchanged between Fosca and Carla as he sat down.

Fosca smiled at Mariana. ‘Please go on.’

Mariana left a slight pause, and decided to try a different approach. She smiled innocently.

‘You teach the girls Greek tragedy, Professor?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Have you studied Iphigenia in Aulis? The story of Agamemnon and Iphigenia?’

She studied the professor closely as she said this – but there was no apparent reaction to the play being mentioned. He nodded.

‘We have indeed. As you are aware, Euripides is a favourite of mine.’

‘That’s right. Well, you know, I always found the character of Iphigenia to be rather curious … I was wondering what your students think.’

‘Curious? How so?’

Mariana thought for a second. ‘Well, it bothers me, I suppose, that she’s so passive … so submissive.’

‘Submissive?’

‘She doesn’t fight for her life. She isn’t bound or restrained; she willingly lets her father put her to death.’

Fosca smiled, and glanced at the others. ‘That’s an interesting point Mariana makes. Would someone like to respond …? Carla?’

Carla looked pleased to be called on. She smiled at Mariana, as if humouring a child. ‘The way Iphigenia dies is the whole point.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that’s how she achieves her tragic stature – by means of a heroic death.’

Carla glanced at Fosca for approval. He gave her a slight smile.

Mariana shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. But I don’t buy that.’

‘No?’ Fosca looked intrigued. ‘Why not?’

Mariana glanced at the young women around the circle. ‘I think the best way to answer that … is to bring Iphigenia here, into the session – have her join us, on one of these empty chairs? What do you say?’

A couple of the girls exchanged scornful looks.

‘That’s so dumb,’ said Natasha.

‘Why? She was about your age, wasn’t she? A bit younger, perhaps. Sixteen, seventeen? What a brave, remarkable person she was. Imagine what she would have done with her life – if she had survived – what she could have achieved. What might we say to Iphigenia, now, if she were sitting here? What would we tell her?’

‘Nothing.’ Diya looked unimpressed. ‘What is there to say?’

‘Nothing? You wouldn’t try to warn her – about her psychopathic father? Help save her?’

‘Save her?’ Diya gave her a contemptuous look. ‘From what? Her fate? Tragedy doesn’t work like that.’

‘Anyway, it wasn’t Agamemnon’s fault,’ said Carla. ‘It was Artemis who demanded Iphigenia’s death. It was the will of the gods.’

‘What if there are no gods?’ said Mariana. ‘Just a girl and her father. What then?’

Carla shrugged. ‘Then it’s not a tragedy.’

Diya nodded. ‘Just a fucked-up Greek family.’

Throughout all this Fosca had been silent, watching the debate with quiet amusement. But now his curiosity appeared to get the better of him.

‘What would you say to her, Mariana? To this girl who died to save Greece? She was younger, incidentally, than you think – closer to fourteen, or fifteen. If she were here now – what would you tell her?’

Mariana thought for a moment. ‘I suppose I’d want to know about her relationship with her father … And why she felt compelled to sacrifice herself for him.’

‘And why do you think that was?’

Mariana shrugged. ‘I believe that children will do anything to be loved. When they’re very young, it’s a matter of physical, then psychological survival. They’ll do whatever it takes to be cared for.’ She lowered her voice, speaking not to Fosca but to the young women seated around him. ‘And some people take advantage of that.’

‘Meaning what, exactly?’ he said.

‘Meaning, if I were her therapist, I would try to help Iphigenia see something – something that was invisible to her.’

‘And what was that?’ said Carla.

Mariana chose her words carefully. ‘It was that, at a very young age, Iphigenia mistook abuse for love. And that mistake coloured how she saw herself … and the world around her. Agamemnon was not a hero – he was a madman, an infanticidal psychopath. Iphigenia did not need to love and honour this man. She did not need to die to please him.’

Mariana looked into the girls’ eyes. She was desperate to reach them. She hoped it would penetrate … but did it? She couldn’t tell. She could feel Fosca’s eyes on her – and sensed he was about to interrupt. She went on quickly.

‘And if Iphigenia stopped lying to herself about her father … if she woke up to the terrible, devastating truth – that this was not love, that he didn’t love her, because he didn’t know how – in that very moment, she would cease to be a defenceless maiden with her head on the block. She’d seize the axe from the executioner’s hands. She would become the goddess.’

Mariana turned and stared at Fosca. She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. But she couldn’t quite disguise it.

‘But that didn’t happen for Iphigenia, did it? Not Tara, nor Veronica. They never had the chance to become goddesses. They never had the chance to grow up.’

As she stared at him, across the circle, she could see a spark of anger in his eyes. But like her, Fosca didn’t express it.

‘I take it you’re in some way casting me as the father in this current situation? As Agamemnon? Is that what you’re suggesting?’

‘It’s funny you say that. Before you arrived, we were debating your merits as a “father” of the group.’

‘Oh, indeed? And what was the general consensus?’

‘We didn’t reach one. But I asked the Maidens if they felt less safe in your care – now that two of their number were dead.’

As she said this, her eyes drifted to the two empty chairs. Fosca’s eyes followed her gaze.

‘Ah. Now I see,’ he said. ‘The empty chairs represent the missing members of the group … A chair for Tara, and a chair for Veronica?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘In which case,’ he said, after a slight pause, ‘isn’t there a chair missing?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Know what?’

‘Oh. She hasn’t told you. How very interesting.’ Fosca kept smiling. He looked amused. ‘Perhaps you should point that powerful analytical lens back at yourself, Mariana? What kind of “mother” are you?’

‘Physician, heal thyself,’ said Carla, with a laugh.

Fosca chuckled. ‘Yes, yes, exactly.’

He turned and appealed to the others, with a mock-therapeutic air. ‘What do we make of this deception – as a group? What do we think it means?’

‘Well,’ said Carla, ‘I think it says a lot about their relationship.’

Natasha nodded. ‘Oh, yes. They’re not nearly as close as Mariana thinks.’

‘She obviously doesn’t trust her,’ Lillian said.

‘Why not, I wonder?’ murmured Fosca, still smiling.

Mariana could feel her face going red, burning with annoyance at this little game they were playing – it was straight out of the playground; like any bully, Fosca had manipulated the group, making them gang up against her. They were all in on the joke, grinning, mocking her. She hated them, suddenly.

‘What are you talking about?’ she said.

Fosca looked around the circle. ‘Well, who’s going to do the honours? Serena? How about you?’

Serena nodded and stood up. She left the circle and walked over to the dining table. She picked up another upright chair, brought it back, and wedged it into the space next to Mariana’s chair. Then she sat down again.

‘Thank you,’ Fosca said. He glanced at Mariana. ‘There was a chair missing, you see. For the Maidens’ final member.’

‘And who is that?’

But Mariana had already guessed what Fosca was going to say. He smiled.

‘Your niece,’ he said. ‘Zoe.’

15

After the meeting, Mariana stumbled out into Main Court, feeling stunned.

She needed to talk to Zoe – and hear her side of the story. In its cruel way, the group had made a good point: Mariana needed to look at herself, and Zoe, closely – and understand why Zoe had not confided in her about being a member of the Maidens. Mariana needed to know why.