Mystical Circles (22 page)

Craig strolled back across to the library door and opened it. “Happy for Juliet to join us, Father?”

“Quite happy. Concerns her as much as you.” Craig gestured for them both to join him. They followed him into the library, where they took easy chairs facing each other. Not for the first time in this house, Juliet wondered at the contrast between the tranquility of the surroundings – the mellow oak panelling, the dreamy atmosphere, the softly glowing lamps – and the turbulence of the people who inhabited them.

Her neck still hurt strongly. And her heart fluttered from time to time. Would she have nightmares tonight? Would Rory’s face haunt her dreams? And images of his long, spider-like fingers? She shuddered.

Craig noticed this at once, and looked at her, concerned. Leaning forward, he reached out and lightly laid his hand on her arm. She remained perfectly still. For one moment, she felt a sense of peace. Then he removed his hand. Her anxiety returned.   

Craig sat in a relaxed position, crossed his legs in a slow, deliberate manner, and slung his arm along the back of his chair. Ah, the studied casual effect. This was in sharp contrast to Don’s prickly manner.

“First, Rory,” said Don.

“Oh, come on, Don,” protested Juliet, “I think Craig only has me to answer to for that. I was the one who suffered.”

“Then ask me anything you like,” Craig said to her.

“Why is Rory so aggressive?”

“Yes, Craig. Tell her,” Don burst in. “And not only that. Why didn’t you warn Juliet about him?”

“First of all, because I like to believe the best of people.”

Don was almost apoplectic. “Never heard such … this your idea of an experiment?”

Craig looked mildly irritated by Don’s words. “I am already dealing with Rory in the way I choose.”

Don bristled but remained silent. Juliet drew a deep breath. Was he preparing for another onslaught?

Craig turned to her as she breathed out again. “As we’re on the subject of Rory… I’ve been thinking since our last conversation, Juliet. The last thing I want is for you to feel badly treated. And I intend to make it up to you.”

She was greatly surprised. How did he mean to do that?

“I cannot be at peace if I know you’re unhappy here, or anxious about anything.”

She wanted to reply, but found no words. She was only aware of his face, and his dark eyes. And of the passion with which his own words had been spoken. He did seem to genuinely care about her. And that meant a lot.

But before she could respond, Don sprang to his feet. “Not enough. Rory’s violent episodes are on the increase. And nobody else seems any the more content for your teachings.”

“I never promised contentment.”

“Freedom then,” Don insisted. “Where’s the evidence?”

“I don’t need to supply any, Father,” said Craig. “Not to you. As you’ve evidently been round gathering information on their mental state, you’re probably best placed to pronounce upon it yourself.”

Don snorted at this.

Juliet interrupted. “What I’d like first of all, Craig, is for you and Don to start talking to each other properly. And stop behaving like two sides in a Cold War.”

Craig’s face clouded. She had an instinct that this came as both an unexpected request and an unwelcome one. And she found herself regretting that she hadn’t claimed some other far more radical and personal compensation from Craig for the part he played in her mistreatment at the hands of Rory.

“She’s right,” said Don. “Craig, you and I…  We can’t carry on like this. Been thinking. Got a suggestion to make.”

“Oh?” Craig threw a sceptical glance at his father. “And you’re happy for Juliet to hear it?”

“Perhaps I’d better leave the room,” said Juliet, and waited. She didn’t really want to go, although she was finding it a strain to be so stoical about her injuries; the pain had still not subsided. Perhaps she would ask Patrick for some more first-aid after all. She got up from her chair.

Don was so focused on what he planned to say, he failed to answer Craig’s question. “Came to me last night,” Don continued. “This ship of yours here. Heading for an iceberg. We need to change course.”

Craig listened. Juliet reached the door and lifted the door latch, ready to go.

“But where to? We haven’t discussed that. Reckon you and me…”  Don hesitated. “Let’s agree on a plan. One that looks good to both of us.”

Craig shifted his position in the chair. “If you’ve got one to lay on the table, then I’m willing to consider it.”

Don immediately took the opportunity this afforded him. “Craig, everything I have is yours. Or will be one day. And you know it. But you want to be here running this outfit. Why not sell up? Come back to Barnsley. You can start over. In premises owned and managed by the company.”

The library fell quiet, and unnaturally still. Neither man seemed aware of Juliet’s continued presence. She barely breathed as she waited for Craig’s response. Don wore a look of intense expectancy. But a minute passed, and Craig said nothing.

“Speak, Craig,” said Don. “Are you still alive?”

The expression on Craig’s face wasn’t easy to fathom. But Juliet felt absolutely sure he’d reject this proposal out of hand.

“Well?” asked Don.

“No, Father.”

Clapping both hands to his head, Don groaned. “Will we ever call a truce?”

“Yes. When you stop trying to map out my life for me.”

Don subsided back into his easy chair again. “That all you can say?”

“For God’s sake, Father, you don’t seriously expect me to sign up to such a plan.” Craig rose to his feet in an abrupt movement. “There’ll be any number of get-out clauses in it.”

“Like what?” Don buried his head in his hands. Then he looked up abruptly. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“Hell’s teeth! What a question. You know full well why. You only need to cast your mind back to the conversation we had in here, earlier, after tea.” Craig began to pace up and down the silk-fringed rug, past the well-stocked bookshelves, arms tightly folded. Juliet watched, nervous and concerned.

Craig wheeled to face Don again. “Why not simply invest more in this place?”

Don was, she saw, trying to smother rising rage. “Explained that before. The way you’re running it isn’t cost-effective.”

Craig’s expression was impassive.

Newly emboldened, Don forged on. “If you relocate to Yorkshire, I won’t judge. Nor veto anything. All I ask is this. You use property owned and managed by the company.”

Juliet was seriously alarmed. Would Craig fall for this?

“I need time to think.” Craig continued pacing.

“Fine, fine. Only remember. What’s in it for me is what’s in it for you, Craig.”

“What sort of penance would you exact from me?” demanded Craig.

“Penance?” Don’s voice had acquired an almost falsetto pitch. “No such word in my vocabulary. And you know it.” He cleared his throat, and began again in a more even tone. “The company would buy whatever you like. A redundant church. Georgian mansion being sold off to pay death duties. Converted abbey. Best on the market. Think of that, Craig. What do you say?”

Juliet could not believe Don had resorted to bribery. But there it was, undeniable. Bribery to fulfil Don’s dream of an ideal future, with his son where he wanted him. Juliet knew Craig would reject the proposal.

“I say this.” Craig held his finger up close to Don’s face, as if to accentuate his words. “In the story of the prodigal son, the son first freely returned; and then the father killed the fatted calf. But I haven’t returned yet; and here you are offering me that fatted calf. That’s bribery.”

Juliet felt her heart beating faster.

“What more do you want? Blood? The only reward I ask is peace.” Don let his hands drop once more to the arms of his chair. “Nothing else.”

Peace
? thought Juliet. What sort of
peace
did Don think he meant? Juliet saw none between these two, until they came clean with each other. She almost shrank from his disingenuousness with his son. And it was clear to her that Craig saw through it, as she’d fully expected he would.

“Nothing else?” he asked. “Not even for me to let go of my beliefs?”

Don straightened, and stared at him again. Juliet looked from father to son. She saw Craig’s body language was hostile, hands on hips. She couldn’t predict Don’s reply.

“I never asked your mother to change her beliefs, did I?” said Don in an icy voice.

Juliet tensed. What was this all about?

Craig had frozen. His face was white. “No, you just drove her away instead.”

Don turned from him. Juliet couldn’t see his expression. But he took several moments to regain emotional control.

Then he swung round, and tried a new angle. “This philosophy of yours. It’s no hurdle.” He looked brighter. Juliet sensed he was about to say something disastrous. But she of course was powerless to stop him. She shouldn’t even still be in the room, listening to this.

“Why not offer
Devil’s Advocate
sessions?” suggested Don. “I’ll run them. Want to take me up on it?”

Craig scoffed contemptuously.

The fact that Don could make such a misjudged remark, proved to Juliet that Don didn’t understand Craig at all. And Don still seemed to imagine the ideal solution lay within easy reach. If he won Craig’s agreement, he’d call in an estate agent to sell this place, exchange contracts, complete the sale, and be off back to Barnsley in a flash. Except…

What about Craig’s followers? They loved the Centre. Craig couldn’t betray them. She felt sure they’d all believe Craig was selling his soul to... not the devil exactly, but to something very close.

“I have a proviso,” said Craig.

“A proviso?” repeated Don. “What’s that?”

“That you agree to change the name of the company.”

Don’s jaw dropped. So did Juliet’s. This was completely unexpected.

“Change the company name?” said Don. “What’s wrong with
McAllister Developments Ltd
? Perfect.”

“No it isn’t,” said Craig. “I challenge you to swap it for
McAllister & Son Life Transformation
.”

Now Juliet felt she could barely withhold the laughter that would give her away and reveal that she’d overheard the entire conversation. But Don didn’t share her amusement.

“
And Son
?” He nearly fell off his chair. “
Life Transformation
? Got to be joking.”

“Ah,” said Craig. “There I have you, don’t I?”

“I’m … I’m…”  Don stumbled over his words. “Before you’ve proved your worth? You expect the fruits first?”

They faced off like birds of prey, each chained to a tree stump to prevent them flying at each other and attacking.

For Juliet, despondency re-emerged. They were at it again. She knew Don had difficulty articulating his feelings. But even so, she wished he was much less controlling. As her mood dropped, so her aching throat became worse.

She resisted the urge to draw a deep sigh. Instead, she redirected her attention just as Don renewed his appeal to Craig. “Give it another day or so. Then we’ll look at it again. I realise I dragged you up after your mother left.”

“That’s what you call it,” murmured Craig.

“Can’t you forgive me?” Don fired up again. “It’s not all bad news. I put you through Edinburgh. You loved it there. Wouldn’t be where you are now, if not for me.”

Craig said nothing. Juliet now began to wish he’d make some kind of concession to his father, some move towards him. The words
thank you
or
sorry
would open things up for them; she felt convinced of that.

Craig turned. She quickly stepped aside. He passed her without a glance and left the room.

Don crumpled back onto his seat. “So you heard all that, Juliet,” he said.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Don. “Just as well you heard. I need your help.”

“Perhaps you do,” remarked Juliet.

“Could kick myself. Where do I go wrong with him?”

They both listened as Craig’s footsteps crossed the hallway, and as the sitting room door opened and closed. She watched Don quietly for a few moments. Then she came and sat down on the chair Craig had just left. “Don, what matters to you more than anything?”

He looked up. Outside, a crow flew past the leadlights. They were both distracted by the flash of movement for a moment. She wondered whether Don considered a short life as a vagabond bird infinitely preferable to the journey he’d taken, one of several decades, leading into clouds of puzzlement.

Then Don spoke. “All I want is to settle this business with Craig. To change things.”

“In what way?”

“So that every time we talk to each other we don’t end up in a fight.  So I don’t…”  He paused. “… make the same mistake my own father made with me.”

She leaned forward and put her hand on his. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“When I see Craig’s attitude to me, I...” Don hesitated. He looked nonplussed. “It just seems the hardest thing in the world.”

“How would it be if...” she began.

“Yes?”

“…if I were to talk to him for you?”

“You think that would work?” He searched her face. “After all,
you
are the one…”  He stopped.

She looked straight at him.  “What were you about to say?”

He seemed embarrassed. “Never mind, Juliet. Forget I said it.”

Supper was nearly ready, and Juliet felt hungry, as she sipped her sparkling mineral water. Tantalising smells emanated from the kitchen. She knew a good hot meal by candlelight, together with a glass or two of a fine red wine, would help to deaden her discomfort and calm her nerves. She’d received so much sympathy from the group members by now that she heartily wished never to be reminded of the attack again, even by kind words. News of it had spread round the community at once. Zoe had been shocked, and very concerned. Even now, she was standing one side of the inglenook with a dry Martini in her hand, watching Juliet carefully, as if searching for any tell-tale signs of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

This show of sympathy was of small comfort to Juliet. She dreaded seeing Rory again. And she knew she would, at the meal table. She wondered how the other group members would behave towards him, or whether Craig had already briefed them on this.