The Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps by Michel Faber

more educated, I’d realise what total darlings these lunatics really were. Well, I have read my history books and my glossy brochures, thank you very much. And these monks and friars and abbesses, some of them may’ve believed in what they were doing, but their philosophy stinks . Hatred of the human body, that’s what it boils down to. Hatred of natural desires, hatred of pleasure. Think of their routine, Siân: knocked out of bed at midnight, walk to a horrible gloomy hall, kneel down on a hard floor, start praying in the freezing cold, pray and chant all night and all day. Wear rough clothes specially designed to stop you feeling too comfortable. Nice food forbidden, just in case you’re tempted to gluttony. Conversation forbidden, in case it distracts you from being a zombie. And if you dare to break the rules, you get flogged publicly. It’s sick !’
    He pointed up towards the abbey, his thumb and forefinger as rigid as a gun.
    â€˜ That’s why those ruins are ruins, can’t you see that? It’s got nothing to do with hurricanes, or Henry VIII, or German warships taking pot-shots at the abbey in 1914. It’s got to do with society growing up – evolving to the point where we realise we don’t need a bunch of sad old perverts telling us we’ll go to Hell if we enjoy life too much. It’s the 21st century, Siân, wake up!’
    â€˜You’re yelling at me,’ she said, miserable with déjà vu . Screaming rows with Patrick, heads turning in crowded places, furious tussles finally won and lost under rumpled bedsheets.
    Magnus folded his arms across his chest and glowered.
    â€˜For Christ’s sake.’ He was making a strenuous effort to keep his voice down. ‘The Dark Ages are over, haven’t you noticed? People enjoy taking a peek at the ruins, they’ll buy a postcard of Saint Hilda at the kiosk, but that’s as far as it goes. Sooner or later, the last few walls will fall down, and it’ll be adios , ta-ta, good night .’
    â€˜Those walls,’ said Siân frostily, ‘will still be standing when people like you are long gone. None of your … huffing and puffing can change that.’
    He glared at her, thrusting his massive shoulders forward as if bracing himself to punch her. Instead, with a groan of frustration, he suddenly threw his arms around her and pulled her close to him, crushing her against his chest.
    â€˜You drive me crazy,’ he murmured, his breath hot in her ear, his heartbeat pervading her bosom. ‘I want you.’ And he kissed her full on the mouth.
    Siân squirmed, embarrassed for him, loath to reject him so publicly, in front of anyone who might be passing by – and besides, she was aroused, intensely aroused. She pulled her mouth away, but wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging hard, her cheek pressed against his jaw. If they could only hold each other like this, breast to breast, for the rest of her life, it would be enough. Nothing else would need to happen.
    He began to stroke the back of her head, one palm smoothing her hair; his hand felt big enough to hold her skull inside it, and she was electrified with fear and desire.
    â€˜Give me time,’ she whispered – and he let her go.
    â€˜All the time … in the world,’ he reassured her, breathing harder than if he’d just run up and down the steps. ‘Just say you’ll see me again.’
    She laughed shakily, delighted with the high drama of it all, despising it too. Hadrian only made it worse, looking from her to Mack and back again, with that absurd wrinkle-browed What next? expression of his.
    â€˜Of course,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow, lunchtime. I’ll have the rest of the confession for you.’
    â€˜Of course,’ he said, perspiring with relief. A semblance of normality settled in the air around them; the world expanded to include passersby on the church stairs,