Mystical Circles (27 page)

“Possibly not,” said Theo. “The Golden Chalice – who don’t share the bishop’s view of this either – rang a short while ago and invited me to lead a healing retreat in two weeks’ time. An invitation I may accept.”

Craig looked disappointed. “Unless we can tempt you to stay with us instead.”

“Let’s chat about it later,” said Theo.

Juliet noticed that Patrick in particular withheld his congratulations. Knowing, as she did, his views on the contents of Theo’s book, she was hardly surprised. Meanwhile, her eye kept being drawn back to Zoe and Theo.  It was clear Theo returned Zoe’s feelings totally. Every touch, every glance was reciprocated. Juliet’s own emotions were a capricious mix she couldn’t keep up with, flitting between wistfulness, panic and fear. How could she feel all this in the space of a few moments? she asked herself. And what exactly was she afraid of, anyway? She was unable to say.

She was almost grateful to be distracted by Craig, who had crossed the room to join her in the corner by the empty birdcage.

“This is good news for Theo,” he remarked quietly.

“Of course.” She struggled to regain her self-composure. It was important that she did – for she had other things on her mind beside Zoe, and questions for Craig to answer.

“And what of you, Juliet?” Craig asked. “May I persuade you to stay too?”

But she was determined not to be sidetracked. “Before we speak of that, Craig, can you clear up my confusion? Yesterday afternoon, I met Rory on a walk. He mentioned knowing
the truth
about you.”

Craig laughed softly. “And did he then go on to reveal what that was?”

“No,” Juliet admitted. “He threatened to beat Don up, so we got away from him quickly.”

Craig shook his head. “I’ll need another chat with Rory.”

“What’s the matter with him, Craig?” asked Juliet. “Why does he behave like this?”

Craig wore a strained expression she’d not seen on his face before. His disquiet seemed genuine. “Juliet, I know you’re mystified. Let’s say he has difficulties: serious ones. I am trying to help him. But he’s not always responsible for his actions.”

She swallowed, several times. “But, Craig…”

“Soon, I’ll explain.  But not now. Just remember. You don’t want to take anything Rory says too seriously.”

“Including claims to know the truth about you? Don said he had suspicions, but wouldn’t name them. Rory said he’d name them, but Don forbade him.”

Craig looked at her appraisingly. “Rory
knows
nothing. But certainly I can tell you, if you’re interested, that he has a crush on me.”

She nodded. “I thought that was part of it.”

“And did you suspect anything else, Juliet?”

As Craig said this, she noticed Llewellyn, keeping them both in his line of vision. She wished the Welshman would stop playing this game, especially as she felt powerless to take action.

She turned back to Craig. “Do you encourage Rory at all?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he replied in a sleek tone of voice.

She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Llewellyn still watched them. So did Don, from the other side of the room.

“When I came across to speak to you, Juliet, I didn’t plan to discuss Rory,” said Craig.

“No I don’t suppose you did.”

“I was concerned,” he said, “about our last little chat together just before dinner on Wednesday, in the library.”

She called that conversation to mind. “Yes. You said you were
desperate
. Did you mean, desperate to make the Wheel of Love work?”

There was a pause. “Let me explain something to you, Juliet,” began Craig. “After we parted I was afraid I may have left you with a misleading impression.”

“Which was…?” she prompted him.

“That I don’t fully realise the material advantages to me of yielding to my father’s pressure.”

“Don’s bribe, you mean? To set you up in another property, fully owned and managed by his company?”

“Yes,” he replied, watching her closely.

“I do believe that you fully understand the value of what you’re turning down,” she replied. “And I must say that my sympathies swing from you to your father and back again in a most unnerving way. But the fact is, I am trying to see the deadlock between you from both sides.”

“You have to support one or other of us,” Craig said.

“Oh?” She felt seriously alarmed by this.

“It’s very important,” Craig went on. “Something lies beyond all this. Something much more important – to me anyway,” he added in a low voice.

She looked at him intently. Was this her opportunity? She took it. “Craig,” she ventured, “do you have any strong regrets about the past? Is there anybody in your life who once desperately needed your forgiveness?” Their eyes held for what seemed like several moments. She thought he was going to open up, confide in her, tell her everything…

And then it was as if he slammed that door in her face. “I’m not interested in discussing the past,” he said. Immediately he went on. “Now, Juliet, I want an answer from you.  What do you say to my earlier question, about whether I may persuade you to stay? What are your plans for the future?”

“The f-future?” she stammered. Strangely, this last question disorientated her. She began again. “My plans? You already know those, Craig. And they haven’t changed. I intend to return to London on Sunday, plus enough interviews for a documentary. And I very much hope to take Zoe with me.”

Craig’s face darkened.  “No chance of...” he began. At that moment, Patrick approached them with the cafetiere. “More coffee, Juliet? Craig?”

Juliet was glad of the interruption. She suspected she knew well what Craig had been about to say. He wanted to keep Zoe here, and draw her into the Wheel of Love at the same time, didn’t he?  And she was having none of it.

Stepping out of the front door the next morning in her waterproof, Juliet confirmed that midsummer had apparently retreated. A dreary pall covered the sky, and now a drizzling rain had added itself to the close atmosphere she’d noted last night, especially when Craig had tried to get her to commit to joining his group. She was really worried about him – and about herself.

And it was now Saturday. She must make a decision in the next couple of hours. A number of people expected her back in London next week.

Pulling her hood up, she crossed the forecourt, heading in a northerly direction. A damp organic odour hung in the air, of rotting woodchip or decomposing leaf litter. It seemed to harmonise with how she felt: despondent. What should she do about Zoe? And Craig? She unlatched the gate and saw Theo approaching from the opposite end of the orchard. She greeted him, but his sole reply was a warning glance, not directly at her but a little to her right, over her shoulder.

“What’s up?”  She was keen to make the most of this meeting; she wanted a word with him in private, out of Zoe’s earshot.

Looking behind her, she realised Craig, in a waxed jacket which looked suitable for a deer shoot on a country house party weekend, was gaining on them.

“Ah! Glad to see you two,” Craig said. “And Theo – I very much hope you’ll stay with us until September.” There was an urgency in his tone that hadn’t been there when he’d broached this subject before, and Theo picked it up.

“Any special reason, Craig?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Craig, “I need your moral backing. Some here no longer give me the support I’ve had in the past, and expected.”

“And the suspects?” enquired Theo lightly. He pulled a wet apple from the well-laden branch of the nearest tree, showering himself in the process. Weighing it carefully in his hand, he came and stood before Craig. “OK, Craig, how can I be sure I’m thinking the same as you?”

“Try me,” said Craig.

“Rory? Don?” queried Theo.

“They’re two,” returned Craig. He looked at Juliet. “Basically,” he continued, “what my father longs to do is seize me, bind me hand and foot, and transport me back to Barnsley in his Black Mariah.”

Theo broke into laughter. Juliet couldn’t resist joining him; she found the image so comical.

Then Theo became serious again. He passed the apple to and fro, rolling it from one hand to the other, before another unexpected change of subject. “About four and a half years ago, alongside my work as a freelance broadcaster, I led a small charismatic group. Doesn’t exist any more, unfortunately. But, during its short lifespan, several members developed the gift of prophecy. Words of knowledge, that sort of thing. And some would get a picture.”

“An image that appears before the mind’s eye?” asked Juliet.

“Exactly. And one has just appeared before mine.”

“… which you’re about to describe to us,” remarked Craig.

“Yes.” Theo polished the apple. “I have a picture of you, Craig, trying to push back the tide.”

Craig’s brow became shadowed. “You’re likening me to the boy who put his finger in the hole of the dam, to stop the Netherlands from being flooded.”

“Absolutely,” Theo said. “But, remember, it’s temporary. You’ll need reinforcements and a long-term solution, or the water will overwhelm you.”

Craig’s expression became unreadable. But, to Juliet, Theo’s picture made sense. Certainly, she’d noticed a slackening off among Craig’s disciples in terms of behaviour, self-discipline, loyalty…  If this was allowed to gather pace, Craig’s influence could weaken and give way just as Theo had envisaged.

Theo was speaking again. “How long do you think you can hold out for?”

Juliet waited anxiously for Craig’s response. It startled her.

“As long as you did, Theo, during your wilderness experience.”

Theo became very still, hand out, palm upward, apple balanced there. The rain had stopped, and the breeze died down, as he looked searchingly at Craig. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t take
you
that long, Craig, to come through, and out the other side. And meanwhile, let’s concentrate on you rather than me. Remember, you cannot hope to address the problems of your followers until you find the courage to come clean with your father.”

And with that, he was gone.

Juliet met up with Theo again later that evening in the dining room, in front of
The Lady and the Unicorn
. They were the first two to enter before dinner.

“Well done,” she remarked, “for what you said to Craig earlier.”

“Thanks,” Theo responded. “My words may be totally ignored, of course.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Surely not! He respects you.”

Theo didn’t reply.

“We’re both very early tonight, aren’t we?” she said, to break the silence.

“We are,” he replied. “Let’s take one day at a time, shall we? And gaze at this bewitched unicorn.”

“You feel sorry for him?” she said, intrigued.

“Perhaps. For now he cannot resist the lady.” He smiled.

She immediately related this remark to him and Zoe. She didn’t feel like discussing his romance with her sister. Instead, she hastily cast about for a different subject. “I don’t suppose it was this room where your colleague had dinner with the shepherd and his wife?” she asked suddenly.

“It was,” Theo said.

“I imagine it was different then.”

He nodded. “Very rough and ready, none of these rich furnishings.”

“I expect they were sad to have to sell up,” she observed.

“So I understand.”

“Why did you ask Craig about a sculpture courtyard?”

“Oh, I remembered one of the ideas my colleague came up with, after his visit.”

Before Juliet could question him further, the door opened and her sister came in. Theo turned at once, stepping forward to take Zoe’s hand.

At dinner Juliet sensed a tightly coiled atmosphere, and not only that between Theo and Craig.

The Mediterranean pasta dish was delicious. Sam, who prepared it, turned out to have done an international cookery course with his brother a year ago. The wine flowed more freely than ever, as did the numerous dishes up and down the table, yet she couldn’t escape a sensation that something rapacious was prowling among them, ready to spring. And she had a nasty feeling this came from Rory. Not that she could see him, on the other side of Beth, and that was the way she liked it. Even so, she sensed hostile intent emanating from that direction. Her fingers tingled too, and her stomach felt uneasy. There was going to be a crisis tonight, she felt sure of it: here in the dining room.

She’d positioned her microphone in the centre of the table, discreetly hidden by a vase of roses. If the wolf amongst them pounced, she’d record the event. Just so long as nobody got seriously hurt. And she couldn’t be sure of that at all. Edgar, too, despite his Benedictine-like appearance, seemed to be stoking up for something: and that impression gained strength with every look she intercepted between him and Craig. Meanwhile, Beth, hair plaited tightly around her head, maintained an icy silence beside her; and immediately opposite, Oleg, gaunt and colourless, looked as if he’d developed a nervous tic to match Sam’s. And for some reason this evening he’d chosen to wear a hooded track jacket and navy baseball cap to the dinner table.

Things were only partially right at the other end of the table, where Zoe sat between Theo and Llewellyn. Juliet watched her sister with the clergyman. Their tender glances and warm chatter recalled his comment to Juliet earlier about the unicorn. And as for Llewellyn, he kept up a straight-faced conversation with Patrick. Since the meal began, he’d totally ignored Juliet.

She could feel a current of unexpressed desires beneath the surface froth of the conversation. Every so often, looking across the table, she met Don’s eyes, bemused and questioning. She was sure he too expected something to happen. She’d told him of the exchanges between Theo and Craig in the orchard that morning. Don’s only question was: “When will the dam burst? Will it be tonight?”

Craig, nevertheless, had begun in gracious mood, appearing undaunted by the less than perfect ambiance among the diners. “So glad you all came promptly this evening.”

As they filled their plates, James, in a midnight-blue brocade jacket, looking every inch a dapper thespian at a post-show reception, leaned across and poured her a glass of wine. The atmosphere lifted slightly. Suddenly, Edgar’s voice rose above the general chatter. “We marked Theo’s arrival with champagne, Craig. Why don’t we celebrate his return?”