Chapter 1

Angelina had been reported missing three years ago. She would be twenty two if she were still alive. But Marina knew her friend was dead. She had that kind of certainty. Angelina was dead and she had not gone to Paradise.

Angelina and Marina had been close since childhood when their parents had moved into adjacent houses in a West Country seaside resort. They had done everything together, been to the same school and were due to go to the same college. But Marina had been taken ill with glandular fever just before the pair were to visit the Island republic of Bastania, where before the Pacific island had become independent, a great uncle of Angelina's had once been Governor. The girls had been invited by a Mr Marcelinus and his wife, who had known the ex Governor and been his close friends.

So Angelina had gone by herself and had never returned. Her father had gone out to the island and spent weeks looking for her, but no sign had ever been found. Marina knew it was useless. Angelina was dead and in Hell.

Once Angelina had been involved in an accident and been injured. Marina had known she was hurt and she had known where. That's how close the couple were. people said of them that they were more like twins than ordinary friends.

Marina went to Mass every week these days. She didn't want to go to Hell and join Angelina. Angelina would not want her dear friend to share her misery. She devoted her spare time to good and charitable works and she mystified and enraged a succession of boys with her refusal to allow them to do more than kiss her. She was determined to stay a virgin until she married.

Then one day soon after the third anniversary of Angelina's disappearance, Marina had a dream. She heard her friend's voice and it was immediately recognisable as Angelina, although it was years since she had heard it last.

"Keep away from me, Marina. Go home and forget me. I am the damned! I love you, Marina, but you can't help me. Nobody can help me. Good luck my friend!"

Then Marina went away for a few weeks and toured several European countries. One day while walking in Greece she saw a monastery across the valley and wanted to visit it. But a notice on the gate made it clear tha her dress was inappropriate. She rang the bell and asked if they could provide some clothing to cover her shoulders and legs, bare from many inches above the knee. The request was refused with regret by the old monk, who assured her that she would be most welcome if she returned more soberly dressed.

Next day she was being shown around by the same old man. Before she left she was ushered into the chapel. Not knowing why, she knelt before one icon and crossed herself reverently. It was an icon showing the Theotokos and Child and the eyes of the Mother of God seemed to be staring right into her soul. It was some minutes before she felt able to rise to her feet.

"You are a troubled woman, my daughter, said the monk before showing her to the gate. "I hope you have taken a step towards seeing a way ahead. You have a long and terrible journey in front of you. our Saviour and His Blessed Mother be with you!"

"One from the dead cannot speak to one still living, can they Holy Father?"

"Remember the story of Lazarus and the rich man, my child. Enjoy the rest of your stay in our country."

Before he closed the gate behind her, he handed her a small and simple cross on a chain.

"Wear this! Wear it always!" And she was alone in the fierce heat of midday.

Later that day she removed the crucifix she usually wore and replaced it with the much less ornate one she had recently been given. She wasn't aware of any particular sensation as the cross rested on her chest, but it seemed right, somehow, that she was wearing it.

She always carried a Bible with her somewhere in her luggage and soon she was reading that disturbing story - a story that had always frightened her whenever she had heard it read.

The parable didn't say that it was impossible for someone in Hell to be heard by one still living. It merely said that such a message would be useless because it would be unheeded. Even so, she was beginning to be convinced that Angelina must still be alive on Earth, but in such a hopeless predicament that the last thing she wanted was for her dearest friend to be in the same appalling straits herself. But Marina knew she had a duty to her friend. She must help her.

The more she considered it, the more she knew she must go to the Island and look for her. Angelina was alive and in pain, misery and despair. Marina would not rest until her dear companion was released from whatever fate that had befallen her.

Marina was due to start work in two months. She resolved that she would use that time to search for Angelina. Her current boy friend, Mark was unable to accompany her so she flew out alone, expecting Mark to join her in three weeks.

The minute she arrived in Bastania she felt Angelina's presence in the very sultry humid air she breathed. Angelina was all around her, and at the same time she was nowhere. And Angelina seemed to be crying out at her to go home. But Marina would never leave this island, except with her friend at her side. Never!

She took a cab, a rickety affair that seemed about to fall to piece at any moment, to her hotel. Soon she was unpacking and pondering her next move. This was a big island, some two hundred miles long and fifty across at its widest. The north was mostly desert and sparsely populated. It was rich in several minerals and that was all she knew. Angelina must be up there, somewhere. Her father had not been able to discover a trace of her in the main town or the places most frequented by visitors.

In the morning Marina took a stroll about the town and went back to the hotel for lunch. After the afternoon siesta she went out again. The heat was almost unbearable and she was about to seek some kind of shade when she heard a commotion and made her way in the direction of the noise.

Some kind of fair was in progress. Stalls were laid out with items being offered for sale. A man was performing conjuring tricks, another man was swallowing fire, but most people were clustered around an outdoor ring. They seemed to be awaiting the start of a wrestling contest and Marina went over to get a closer look.

She was right. Two fighters were led from a tent towards the ring. They climbed through the ropes and removed their upper garments, standing stripped to the waist and wearing no more than a pair of flimsy and tattered shorts, which reached less than half way down their thighs. Then they removed these and stood naked.