Mystical Circles (23 page)

Meanwhile, she watched Llewellyn steadying himself against the other side of the inglenook, his third gin and tonic in his hand, and unruly hair tumbling over his eyes. Beth and Edgar had been at work for some considerable time, preparing the evening meal. Beth must have dumped the bed linen in the laundry room, and gone straight off to the kitchen. She was certainly working hard today.

“Edgar was told very clearly he was not allowed to experiment with any new recipes when cooking for us all,” said Llewellyn. “So why is it taking the two of them so long? I’ll have polished off the entire contents of Craig’s cocktail cabinet by the time they serve up.”

“Yes, I think it’s probably about time I hid that gin bottle, Llewellyn,” said Juliet. “And Zoe – go easy on the wine won’t you? There’ll be heaps more at dinner.”

Instead of taking offence at her sister’s bossy instructions, Zoe gave her a tolerant smile. “I’m in no hurry,” she said.

“Come on.” Juliet rose from her seat. “After all, they might have had an accident with the Aga. Let’s go in, and see what they’re up to.”

Zoe followed Juliet as she marched towards the kitchen door and pulled it open. A scene of disorder met their eyes.

The kitchen table was barely visible beneath the mess of dishes and storecupboard ingredients. A fine white film of flour covered most objects. Other spilt items included chopped onions and breadcrumbs. An aroma of mixed herbs permeated the air.

What was going on in here? Well, Juliet could see the original intentions, but the reality seemed to have veered way off course. They were only supposed to be doing a tried and tested recipe.

Beth was by the sink, attempting to wash various implements and bowls that Juliet supposed wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher, her face flushed. Edgar was busy keeping a check on the progress of four saucepans at once.

“Go away,” Beth cried. “We’re not ready yet.” She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Juliet considered her. Then she glanced at Edgar. It seemed as if they’d both overstretched themselves this evening.

“Smells delicious,” she said encouragingly.

“Thanks,” said Edgar, “though we may have been a little ambitious with the pudding.”

She looked from one to the other suspiciously. Had they been arguing? Beth’s eyes were red, and Edgar’s face unnaturally flushed. Had he been going on at her about his questionnaire? Was he demanding she provide him with extra information about her psychological history?

“Can we help?” asked Juliet.

“No, no. You go and relax. None of us have a train to catch.”

“Are you sure? Beth?” murmured Juliet.

“No, go away!” she cried.

“OK, fine.”

Zoe and Juliet swiftly backed out, and closed the door behind them. They stood in the passageway, looking at each other.

“What is it about this place?” asked Juliet.

“Nothing. It’s the people who’re the problem,” said Zoe.

Juliet stared at her. “You admit it?”

“Well, of course I do. And you of all people must agree, especially with what you’ve just copped from Rory. But I’m beginning to see the answer to that.” She wore a beatific smile.

“Is this Theo’s influence?” asked Juliet suspiciously.

“Could be,” she murmured as she drifted away. “Edgar and Beth can take all the time they want. I’m happy.”

Juliet was about to ask, “What’s up with you?” But she didn’t need to. Her heart sank.

She slipped through to the library. She still felt uncomfortable about the idea of spending time in the sitting room, the scene of Rory’s recent violence. She didn’t know how she’d feel about being on the very sofa from which she’d fallen, or gazing at the very rug where she’d struggled beneath Rory’s weight as he attempted to throttle her.

Refusing to give power to any flashbacks, she threw herself into an easy chair in the library, and set to thinking. She wasn’t happy about this new behaviour of her sister’s. And neither was she happy about Don’s words in this room earlier, just after she’d offered to talk to Craig for him. In fact, she’d regretted the offer soon afterwards, and had been worrying about the implication of his words ever since.

“
You are the one
…”

He’d broken off mid-sentence, but she had an uncanny intuition of what he might have been about to say next.

How was she to make it clear to him that, even if Zoe had been sidetracked, and therefore no longer stood between her and Craig, that didn’t mean she was after him herself? And neither was there any possibility whatsoever of her changing her mind. That was quite out of the question.

She called to mind some of Craig’s teachings. She’d already spotted the flaws in them.
Erase your personal history… create a fog around yourself… learn to stop the world.

Where had she heard that before? From a young anthropology student who set off from the University of California, Los Angeles, and headed into the mountains of Mexico, to meet up with the Yaqui Indian sorcerers, men of awesome psychological powers. Now where could she check that she’d remembered it correctly? Might Craig have the books on the shelves in here? She’d read a few of them in the past.

Getting up, she went over to the nearest bookshelf and began to scan the titles. As she did so the door opened, and Craig came in.

Her body tingled. Her fingers tightened around the volume she’d partially withdrawn. As he looked at her, every part of her felt poised, alert, ready for… what? She couldn’t be sure.

“Juliet,” he said. “How are you feeling? Does your throat still hurt?”

“Yes,” she said.

He moved swiftly to her side. “I’m so sorry about what happened. Certainly you won’t trust Rory again. I quite understand that. And I expect you feel afraid to be alone with him. But don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him, and make sure that never happens.”

“Thank you,” she said, not sure if she could rely on this or not.

“Believe me,” he said softly, his eyes on her face. Silence fell. He broke it to add, “Our third meeting in here today, Juliet.”

“So it is.” She waited a few moments. Then – “Craig, about Don.”

“Yes?”

“I asked him what matters to him more than anything.”

“You did?” He studied her intently. “And what was his reply?”

“He hopes to change things between you and him. He doesn’t want to repeat what happened between himself and his own father.”

Craig’s face registered no emotion. “Did he share the details of that with you?”

“No,” she said.

“Good.” Craig still wore an inscrutable mask. Then he softened slightly. “My grandfather was an old tyrant. No doubt about it.”

She was taken aback by this remark. “That’s a little harsh, surely, Craig.”

He didn’t reply.

“Your father wants a truce,” she persisted. “I know I’m putting myself on the line here, but…” 

“Go on,” he said coolly. He looked at her, and she recognised the expression in his eyes. It was one that she knew had the power to destabilise her.

Immediately she began to feel unsafe, as if she was toiling up a scree-covered slope. With all her strength, she resisted this feeling. She had now had more than a few opportunities to witness the effect of his gaze upon those around him. And she resolved that he would not succeed in claiming
her
poise and self-assurance.

She renewed her effort. “I only want to say this, Craig: what stops you going halfway towards meeting him?”

Craig’s manner took on a steely character. “Not an option, Juliet,” he said sharply. Then he changed the subject. “I see you’re looking through the shelves here. You’re welcome to borrow any book you like. Take this one.” He stood up and removed a volume from the shelf behind him.

“
Conversations with Don Juan
,” she said, “by Carlos Castaneda. Just what I was searching for, Craig. Thank you.”

He looked at her reflectively but said nothing.

“Do you really think you’ll succeed in erasing your personal history?” she asked.

His voice when he spoke was low and soft, but also held a warning note. “Yes, I believe so. Don’t take what my father says too seriously, will you?”

She felt stung by his words.

He continued to regard her. “You heard everything we said earlier, didn’t you? Admit it, Juliet. His offer was outrageous, wasn’t it?”

“I agree it was bribery,” she said. “But, Craig, he’s desperate.”

He came close to her. “So am I,” he said.

She was aware of nothing but him.

At this, the door opened, and James looked in. She broke away from Craig. “I’ll certainly bear that in mind, Craig,” she remarked for James’s benefit. “And in turn, I hope you’ll remember what I’ve said.”

“Supper’s ready,” said James.

Juliet barely tasted the meal. She could concentrate neither on food nor conversation. Two people separated her from Rory: Llewellyn and Don. But she was still painfully aware of his presence not far away. And on top of that, every time she looked at Craig she saw a different face. Who was he? She no longer had any confidence that she was even close to guessing the answer to that question.

Juliet’s disquiet about her sister also continued. Zoe’s afterglow had now lost its high sheen, and she appeared to be in a daze. Clearly she was missing Theo. Later, after coffee had been served in the sitting room, Juliet caught up with her in the hall.

But before Juliet could open the subject of Theo, Zoe deflected her. “What were you and Craig doing in the library before dinner?”

“Why do you want to know?” retorted Juliet.

“Because of the mood he was in all through the meal, of course,” said Zoe.

Juliet sidestepped the issue of her power to affect Craig’s mood, and quickly went on. “Never mind that. What about you, Zoe? How do you feel?”

Zoe’s manner threatened to turn brittle. Then a flash of understanding passed between them. “Juliet,” she said, “I know Theo only came on Monday. It seems incredible, all that’s happened since then. But I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

Juliet felt torn. It seemed hardly any time at all since Zoe had been saying the same thing about Craig. And yet, in the hothouse atmosphere of this community, she understood how quickly new emotions could flourish. Erotic love grew fast here – but with a weak root system.  

Which was even more reason to be anxious for her sister. “Yes, Zoe, he’s different. But go easy, won’t you? This isn’t the real world.”

“No need to lecture me on the subject.” Zoe was about to react further, then pulled herself in. She glanced quickly at Juliet. Still thinking about the attack, no doubt, and feeling she ought to perhaps be a little more gentle with her sister and make allowances for her.

This irritated Juliet. And she still felt the sharp prick of Zoe’s distrust just below the surface. She reached out to touch the cloisonné enamel vase which stood on the occasional table, and lightly traced the design on the surface with her fingers, trying to disguise her unhappiness at Zoe’s attitude. “It’s just… I can’t help worrying about you.”

Zoe quickly forgot her desire to walk on eggshells around Juliet. For a moment, it seemed to Juliet that her sister would complete Rory’s work, snatch the vase, and hurl it at her.

“Juliet, I know you’ve played mother to me ever since mum died. We were both very young then. I was only five. But things have changed. We’re grown up now. My life’s my own.”

Juliet considered this. It was true she’d first begun to behave protectively towards Zoe when her younger sister was very little, and she in her early teens. And somehow it had stuck. But she still felt she must continue to fill the role of the mother they’d lost to cancer nineteen years before. And also, if Zoe was to fall for someone Juliet feared unsuitable, then she couldn’t possibly remain silent.

Zoe broke into Juliet’s reflections. “Theo is special. Leave us alone.”

“Zoe, lighten up,” Juliet flashed. “I like the guy. He’s caring, intelligent…  I respect him. But, remember, there was a period of time when he just disappeared…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rory told me on the day I arrived – at dinner,” persisted Juliet. “He said Theo served as a curate for a couple of years after being ordained, then
vanished from the face of the earth
– whatever that means. Oh, I know Rory himself doesn’t have the full story, and he could have misunderstood. Even so, it makes me wonder. Did Theo lose his memory?  Did he take on a false identity? He might even have roamed round Florence as a Hannibal Lecter type...”

“Oh shut up, Juliet,” retorted Zoe, her face flushed. “This stuff is way over-the-top. You’re getting paranoid.”

“I’m perfectly sane, thank you. And you’d be amazed at what people can do.”

“But not Theo. I won’t listen to this any more. I can have any man I choose. And if it’s Theo – that’s for me to decide!”

With this, she turned, and ran up the stairs.

13

Between Two Worlds

Time seemed to crawl the next day. By four o’clock Juliet felt she’d been waiting for ever. But for what? She’d seen no sign of Craig since dinner yesterday evening. And even more disturbing – at least to her, in her present insecure state of mind – nothing had been heard from Theo either. He was supposed to have had his disciplinary review with his bishop in London that morning. Juliet had expected that he might at least have called Zoe on her mobile, to let her know what happened.  Had he gone off on another of his
disappearances
? She shook herself. She must rein in her fevered imagination.

Then she turned her mind to that row with Zoe last night. Juliet had tried to smooth things over a little this morning at breakfast.  And she’d asked Zoe to let her know if she heard from Theo, and Zoe had said yes.  So her sister would have no reason to hide any news from her...

Unhappy, and vaguely fearful, Juliet stood near the fence that divided the car park from the woodland, looking towards the house.

As she did so, the back door opened, and Edgar appeared with a watering can. He wore a solemn expression. Then he began to water the hanging baskets, suspended on black chains from the wrought-iron brackets. How refreshing! For once he was without clipboard and notes.