Mystical Circles (17 page)

She won no more confidences from Craig either, during dinner, and it seemed he saved his more interesting conversation for Zoe rather than Juliet. She had no wish to interrupt, so she ignored them. She found this uncomfortable and frustrating, but struggled hard to mask her feelings, especially every time she looked in Rory’s direction.  He scared her.  She couldn’t deny it.

As she left the table, Al strode up to her. “Hey, Juliet, Laura and I are heading to the top of the valley later on. Do a bit of star-gazing. Like to join us?”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Perhaps you two…”

“No, no, no,” he rejoined. “You come too. We’d love it.”

So she relented. After coffee and brandy in the sitting room, the three of them walked up through the pastureland to the ridge. There at the top, way above the farmhouse, they stopped and fixed their gaze on the sky.

And how much sky there was here. Juliet realised this was the first time she’d fully noticed. The midsummer night, its profound silence, surrounded them.

Unexpectedly Al put his arms around both Laura and Juliet and drew them close. “Don’t let Craig work his way under your skin,” he murmured to Juliet.

She looked at him, startled. “How do you..?” she began.

“Watched you at dinner,” he said. “I get the picture. Can see what’s up with you guys.”

“But…” she said, then stopped. It was pointless objecting to his interpretation of this; far better to let it pass, and enjoy the moment.

Laura too was regarding her with an expression of warm understanding. “That’s right, Juliet,” she said.

What ideas was she harbouring now? Despite their good intentions, Juliet felt discomposed. And yet the perfect contentment that flowed between Laura and Al couldn’t but affect her too. She relaxed. Her feelings towards these two began to change. Both were people she’d previously had reservations about. Perhaps it was the influence of the landscape. And that, she now believed, was probably a strong element in what kept all Craig’s followers here, too.

But the next morning told a different story. She awoke feeling disoriented. Had it all been a dream, a matter of fickle emotions? Initially, she couldn’t marshal her thoughts at all. What day was it? She didn’t even remember!

Sitting up abruptly with a rising sense of panic, she swung her legs down by the side of her bed and grabbed the diary that lay on her bedside table. Leafing through, she confirmed it was Wednesday. Putting the diary back she sat and reflected. All she’d achieved so far was a few unresolved conversations with Craig, warnings to keep her nose out of the deadlock between him and his father, and no guarantee that Zoe had any plans other than to stay for ever. And a few hints from Oleg that there might be things going on relating to Rory that were illegal, a serious health risk and of interest to the psychiatric services.

She looked at her watch and groaned. She must go and get some breakfast. It was always a good idea to be up early, otherwise she could never tell what she might miss. But as she hurriedly washed and dressed, she continued to fret. Friday was two days away now, and she’d only allocated a week at most for this project.

She must decide what to do. She felt sidetracked by Craig, though she couldn’t be sure why. He had no power over her whatsoever, she was certain of that. And it was still vitally important she stick to her goal and get Zoe out of the Wheel of Love.

So thinking, she went out of her room and down the stairs. In the deserted kitchen she made herself a cup of tea, wondering whether the rest had set off on another Dream Yoga walk.

But on her way out of the room she passed James going in. A wave of Armani cologne assailed her nostrils. Her eye was immediately drawn to his gleaming collar studs. Whatever he did, he did to extremes. Either perfectly turned out or totally disgusting. It made her feel insecure, not knowing when the expensive aftershave might be swapped for the reek of the gutter.

“Morning, Juliet.” James used a hearty tone of voice. “Pleased with your interviews?”

“Certainly, James, thank you.” She sensed the artificiality of his manner. Was he, even now, in the process of transforming himself into the mindset of a vagrant? Perhaps he was wrestling his mental focus away from the world of elegance and good manners, towards that greasy wig hanging in his wardrobe.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said. “So we’re giving you value for money so far?” He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder, a gesture she greatly disliked.  She was just about to make off along the passageway in the direction of the utility area, when she heard someone unlatch the dining room door behind her and come through. Turning, she saw Craig enter the kitchen. He left the door ajar, allowing her to overhear a short exchange between the two men.

“Any news yet, James?”

There followed the clink of coins being sifted in a pocket. Then came James’s voice. “None from the email I sent all my Edinburgh contacts. Perhaps I need to be more discriminating. Reword it more directly. Target only those I believe to be on an income higher than the figure you mentioned.”

Ah, so James had been in action. What would the group members think, if they knew the sole criteria for entry now was a healthy bank balance?

“Let’s hope some of them bite,” said Craig.

James’s mood continued buoyant. “We’ll soon have someone new. The moment I hear of it, I’ll let you know.”

At that the door closed behind them.

Hmm, thought Juliet as she strolled along. It sounded like they were making a genuine attempt to lift the community out of financial crisis. But would it be enough? Then she saw Don ahead of her. He’d just picked up a pair of walking boots from the rack in the utility area. He was examining them as if deciding whether or not they were fit for purpose.

“Off to the hills, Don?” she said.

He looked at her with a crooked smile. “Perhaps. You in search of interviews?”

“Yes.”

“Could try Theo,” Don said. “He’s out and about.”

Her heart lifted at this news. “Is he?”

“Saw him an hour ago.”

“I’ll try and catch him,” she said. “Yesterday I mentioned he might be able to help break the deadlock between you and Craig. Didn’t go down very well with Craig though, did it?”

“Nor me.” He looked at her defensively for a few moments, then flung his arms out in a display of frustration. “Neither of us wants anyone else poking their nose in. I admit it.” He dropped his hands to his sides once more.

“But...” she ventured, “it might help.”

“Hmm.” He hesitated, a slight frown on his face. “But would he listen? Pride. That’s his trouble.”

“Craig’s? And not yours?” Juliet studied him for a few moments. She believed she saw some of his defensiveness begin to crumble. The signs were very subtle, but she still detected a change, a loosening up.

“All right,” he grumbled. “You’ve got a point, Juliet.”

“What did Craig mean about Theo having
his own issues
?” she asked.

“No idea. Apart from that book of his.” Don shrugged. “But Craig’s a fine one to talk. Look at the hole he got himself into. Took disastrous financial advice, from an unqualified would-be accountant.”

“Who was that?”

“Pal of his from Edinburgh.”

Not another of James’s students, thought Juliet. She was getting closer and closer to understanding how Craig had gone wrong. At the very worst, it still seemed to her to be through misplaced generosity rather than any serious misdemeanour.

“What happened to his accountant?” she asked.

“Sacked him.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “And you came down here yourself. That’s sad. It gets worse and worse.”

“Shame you see it like that.”

“You know what I mean, Don.”

He nodded. It seemed he was in the mood for rumination. “As for Craig… can’t get any further with him. Me and him – we hardly ever talk. When I try, where do we end up? Down the same blind alley. Saw that yesterday.”

“I did. Difficult, isn’t it?” She remained determined not to offer advice. But she did feel the two of them needed to communicate better.

He set his boots down on the floor, straightened, and swung to face her. Evidently a decision had just fallen into place. “We need help. Never admitted it before. But now’s the time.”

“Good for you, Don.”

This certainly sounded like a breakthrough: even the acknowledgement that both of them would benefit from support, not just Craig. But she needed to take care. His tone of voice and the way he was looking at her made her slightly apprehensive about who exactly he had in mind, and whether he was still thinking of Theo. “Sounds great, Don, but what do you want out of this?”

He reached beneath a shelf, and pulled a three-legged stool forward for her, then sat opposite on an upturned wine-crate. “Number one, he agrees to close the Centre down. In an orderly fashion.”

“That’s unrealistic,” she said in dismay. “Craig wouldn’t do that.”

“If he doesn’t, he goes bankrupt.”

“What if he gets new recruits in who can pay their way?” Juliet asked.

“Probably too late.”

“But does he realise?” She spread her hands. “Don, I don’t know the true facts and figures. But from what I’ve seen so far, that solution is hardly likely to mean reconciliation for you and Craig, is it?” She scrutinised his face for signs that he might relent. “Wouldn’t it make the bitterness between you far worse?”

“Probably,” he said. “But what’s the alternative?”

“Not for me to say. What’s number two?”

“He comes back to Barnsley with me. And rethinks his life.”

Silence fell. “I’ve a suggestion,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“First, put aside your plans, and carefully consider his dream.”

“Craig’s dream?” Don looked outraged. “What about mine?”

Juliet sighed in exasperation.

Don shuffled his feet as he sat on his upturned crate. “My business. I hoped he’d take over. When I’m gone.”

“But does he want to?”

“Listen.” He raised his voice. “I’ve come here, sacrificed my holiday. What for? To help him. But…”

“But what?”

“He doesn’t respect me.” Don looked despondent. He stopped, seemingly robbed of further words.

Juliet wanted to supply them: ...
or behave as if he loves me.
But she felt unable to. She had no assurance he could take such a swift exposure of the wound. Don studied her. She waited.

The frustration in his eyes was miraculously replaced by the light of new hope. He wore an earnest expression. “Juliet, listen. Suppose I save Craig from bankruptcy.”

“OK. How?”

“Give him the cash injection he needs,” said Don.

“And then what?” she asked. “I thought you wanted him to abandon the Centre to please you. And come on line with your agenda.”

He gazed at her, speechless.

“Look,” she said, “if you do bail him out, who stands to gain long- term? You or him?”

He chewed his lip.

“Come on, Don,” she said. “Would it not be better first to accept that Craig’s now established in a career of his own choosing?”

He looked so weighed down by this challenge, she pitied him and indeed felt tempted to put her arms around him; but resisted. Instead, she continued to speak. “Running this group is what Craig wants to do. And I believe he cares about everyone here.”

“But, Juliet... my side of the story. D’you see that?”

This provoked her. “Don’t sink into self-pity,” she said sharply. “That won’t help.”

He started, evidently impressed by her stance. “So where does it leave us?”

“With the fact that you’re here,” she said, “and that you won’t leave until you and Craig have sorted this out between you.”

“Right,” he said. Then he leaned forward, and took hold of her hand. “Juliet. You might play a part.”

“How?”

“You can help. You’re just the…”

“Yes?”

“The sort of girl I once hoped Craig would marry.”

She caught her breath, shocked. Craig? Her? Incredible, out of the question…  For a moment her mind blanked. Craig? Marry? She wasn’t even a hundred percent sure the guy was straight. Certainly, it was Zoe’s infatuation with him that had drawn her here. And because of this she’d expected, at the very least, to find him a red-blooded male, possibly returning Zoe’s feelings, and taking advantage of them anyway. And yet, as she’d begun to observe him and his relationships with others… She hadn’t reached any clear conclusion yet. But there’d been a number of subtle signals, the lithe way he moved, the flamboyant colours of his polo shirts, his almost feminine bursts of intuition, the intense way some of the other men looked at him…

She shook herself. Her emotions were in turmoil. Snatching her hand from Don’s, she jumped to her feet. “Now, stop right there.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I won’t listen to talk like that,” she said.

The back door opened. “Mind if I join you?” said a third voice.

They both looked around sharply. Craig stood there.

He had such a talent for these sudden appearances. Again she felt a shifting sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was furious with herself. On no account must Craig ever learn of his power to do this to her whenever he showed up on the scene. As he passed he brushed lightly against her. She felt the electric-fence effect once more. She fervently hoped he hadn’t noticed.

He nodded to his father, then wheeled to face them both. “We meet again – Father, Juliet.”

Today, he’d teamed his pale-blue jeans with a casual open-necked shirt, this time in jade green. Again, the colours he wore suited him perfectly, as she couldn’t help observing; and lingering on. Damn. She nearly cursed beneath her breath.

“Going for a walk?” he asked Don.

“Not yet.”

“Do. It’s a wonderful day. I highly recommend it.” Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he leaned against the whitewashed wall opposite Juliet, in easy style.

Despite his manner she believed Don was glad of the interruption.

“So, Craig,” Don began. “Punished Rory yet?”

“Of course not. The concept of punishment has no place here,” said Craig.

“Why not call the police?” demanded Don.