Mystical Circles (31 page)

The cleric stopped and looked round, his expression neutral. Juliet studied him. Had he heard the news? It was time to switch her mike on again and hold it up between them.

His greeting was amiable enough. “Hello there, Juliet. Fine day for a walk.”

“Yes. Theo…”  She willed herself to draw back. Best to speak calmly about Rory’s news.  Ah yes. She knew the best subject to start on. “I’ve just been reading your book.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“Theo, it’s great,” she said.

He couldn’t avoid the light of pleasure showing clearly in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s a real page-turner.”

“I did try to make it accessible,” he murmured.

“You succeeded,” Juliet said. “But Theo, there’s something I’m worried about.”

“In my book?”

“No. Here in this community.”

“And what’s that?” he enquired. “Craig?”

“Well, of course. It’s Craig all right. He clams up when I ask him about the past.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“Okay, Theo, so you’re not going to be drawn either. But he in turn can’t be surprised that I want to know.”

“Or rather,” said Theo, “that you long to know. For it’s not just journalistic curiosity on your part, is it?”

She felt angry. She waited for a moment, taking a deep breath. It was her turn to change the subject, before she exploded in front of the clergyman. “All right Theo. I have another worry. This new turn of events. The vote. Llewellyn’s takeover bid.”

The cleric’s lips curved. “Yes.”

“What do you make of it all?” she asked.

“I admire Llewellyn’s poetry.” Theo inspected the sweet peas for a few moments. “And in ancient Celtic communities, of course, the bard held the highest position in the social structure…”

“Oh, come on, Theo, this isn’t an ancient Celtic community,” she broke in, exasperated.

“No it isn’t, is it.”

“But did you encourage him?”

“No,” said Theo, “I simply had a short chat with Don. Llewellyn must have overheard. I mentioned it would be good to spend some evenings reciting poems, singing songs and telling stories.”

“Sounds lovely. But it isn’t what Llewellyn’s done. He’s staged a coup instead.”

“Not a good idea,” agreed Theo.

“What do you think will happen next?” she asked.

“Can’t say. I stand by consistent leadership. So I’ve thrown my personal support on Craig’s side.”

Juliet started. The group was splitting into opposing camps. Seeing her expression, Theo put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What would you have me do? Remain neutral?”

“But…” she began, then stopped. No, she wasn’t going to say it.

“You don’t expect me to encourage mutiny, do you?” the clergyman asked.

“No.” She threw a quizzical glance at him. “It must be difficult for you to avoid giving advice, Theo.”

“True,” he said, his manner serene.

She fell in step with him as he turned left and strolled along the west-facing path beside the cucumber frames. The microphone was still live. “Especially now, when Craig needs it more than ever,” she observed.

“Yes,” Theo said. “But even so, he has to find his own way through this.”

Suddenly she said, “You know that colleague of yours who came to the farmhouse before Craig owned it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still in touch with him?” She wasn’t quite sure why she asked this.

“I am.” A long pause followed.

“You said he had plenty of ideas for how this place could thrive.”

“Yes,” said Theo. “Additional accommodation and dining room, new uses for the barn and outhouses.”

“How did he get these ideas?” Juliet asked.

“He had a vision,” Theo replied. “He saw the farmhouse from above. He saw a courtyard with a central sculpture. And the barn was different. Its huge access doorway was a window with a Celtic cross etched in the glass. It was a place of worship.”

“But that’s extraordinary,” said Juliet.

“Yes, isn’t it?”

A sudden anxiety took hold of her. “Theo, you wouldn’t ever suggest to Craig he should sell this property, would you?”

“No, of course not. I have no such right. And if you’re thinking of this colleague of mine with all his bright ideas, well, let me assure you there’s no chance of that. He has not the slightest prospect of ever affording it.”

She felt she needed space to reflect. She turned the microphone off. When she spoke again, she could only change the subject – and store the mike away for the time being. “Theo, how long will you stay here? Have you agreed to lead that retreat for the Golden Chalice?”

“The answer to your first question is I don’t know. And to your second – not yet.”

“What does Zoe think?”

“Why not ask her yourself?” said Theo.

Juliet weighed up this reply, trying to work out whether it was evasive or not. Theo it seemed was in no mood either for further chat about his future prospects. He coolly appraised her. “Juliet, you cannot force Zoe’s hand.”

She flushed.

“Just as you cannot force Craig to tell you about his past,” continued Theo.

She said nothing. But she felt mortified.

He allowed a few moments to pass before saying, “Back to you and Zoe. I’ve watched you both together now on a few occasions. It’s not a good idea to confuse your hopes and dreams for yourself, with those for your sister.”

“But I’m not doing that,” she cried.

Silence fell. A magpie landed on top of a glass frame nearby, and a lively breeze sprang up. She tried to slow her breathing down, by the use of steady inhalations and exhalations. It would never do to have an emotional outburst with Theo, thus giving him yet further scope for his ever-ready counselling skills.

“What do you think would be the best thing to do?” she asked. She braced herself for him to recommend she leave Zoe alone, and go back to London straight away.

“I can’t speak for Zoe.” Theo laid his hand on hers. “But why don’t you just tell her the truth? I mean, your fears and doubts about me. Then wait. And respect whatever choice she makes.” And with that, he set off again, walking briskly up the path past the tomatoes, until he was out of sight.

18

Innocence of Morning Flesh

In the great empty space of the barn, Juliet unexpectedly found some peace, despite all that she’d witnessed in it since she’d first arrived at the Centre over a week ago.  She needed to collect her thoughts. And for several moments it seemed the quietness of the barn was helping her to do that.

Then she remembered. She’d seen Zoe heading this way and meant to intercept her. They must talk. Leaving the barn again through the great access doorway, Juliet paused inside the buttresses which flanked the arch. Then she saw her sister. Zoe was now making for the house. Breaking into a run, Juliet caught up with her. “Zoe, stop.”

Zoe turned and glanced at her. “What’s up?”

“Theo. I must have a word with you about him.” She couldn’t fail to notice Zoe’s sigh. Or the wariness that sprang into her eye. It made her sick at heart to recognise Zoe’s mistrust. But she pressed relentlessly on. “I had a chat with Theo earlier,” she said.

“Oh? You did?” Zoe’s tone held a cautious edge.

“And we spoke about you.”

“Before you say more, Juliet, listen. There’s no way I’ll change what I think or feel about Theo to suit you.”

“Why do you think I’d want you to do that anyway?” asked Juliet.

“Everything you’ve said and done in the last few days. Look Juliet, don’t think I haven’t noticed what’s going on between you and Craig.”

Folding her arms tightly, Juliet threw a warning glance at her sister.  “Craig? What are you…?”

“Still in denial?” said Zoe, tossing her head. “I don’t need to suggest what everyone can see. He’s crazy about you.”

“Crazy about me?” shouted Juliet, before she had a moment to think. “But he won’t even…” She stopped, her face burning.

Zoe was watching her intently. “Won’t even... what?”

Juliet was silent.

“Now, what advice did you want to give me about Theo?” Zoe asked breezily.

At dinner Juliet avoided Craig’s gaze. It was made much easier by the fact that Llewellyn had claimed the seat beside her, and chatted constantly during the entire meal. Tonight she welcomed this. But she also itched to know what kind of power struggle was going on between Craig and the poet. Her curiosity was not yet to be satisfied though, because they both ignored each other. She was tempted on several occasions to look at Craig, but resisted. How on earth had Zoe – in common with Rory – dreamed up the idea that Craig was attracted to her? She was beginning to see how Rory could be so deluded; but not Zoe too.

Looking across the table she caught Don’s eye. He smiled at her and immediately she felt an irresistible sense of relief. He was a shining beacon of normality here. Somehow this bluff Yorkshireman who didn’t easily share his emotions stood out in the context of this community. Thank God for Don.

She was unprepared for the powerful feelings gathering strength inside her. She longed to be held in dependable arms, safe and protected. What was happening to her? She tried to shake this feeling off, and yet the more she looked at Don, the more it persisted. With an effort of the will she concentrated on the meal instead, and upon the other events unfolding around her in the community.

Mutiny. How would Craig cope with that? But, perhaps, all things considered, it was no less than he deserved. Tonight she’d go to Llewellyn’s session in the barn with an open mind. And she’d reserve judgement until later.

Three of the brightest stars in the sky, framed by the great east window of the barn, emerged into view.
The summer triangle
, thought Juliet, pleased to identify the stellar trio. But nobody else in the barn noticed. Their attention was focused on one star only, of a more earthly nature: Rory. Wearing a rather overdone purple velvet cravat that reminded Juliet of Lord Byron, he paced back and forth across a dais beneath the hayloft, declaiming at the top of his voice.

Juliet had found a spare seat next to Llewellyn and slid into it. She’d attached a clip-mike to Rory’s shirt before the recital began. The other mike was in her hand, turned on, and the levels seemed to be behaving nicely so far. She intended to capture all the details of this supposed regime change in the community. Though Craig, she noticed, was absent. Why?

As Rory paused for breath, Llewellyn leaned close, speaking in low, urgent tones as she held the mike towards him. “What do you think, Juliet?”

“Well, Llewellyn…” she began. “You’ve certainly given Rory a good forum to express himself, and I’m sure that’s helped him. But do you honestly believe it is right to take over from Craig like this?”

He looked slightly hurt, moving away from her again. “Take over? Come, Juliet, you don’t still see it like that do you?”

“I certainly do.”

He fell silent.

A question broke into her mind. Who was he trying to impress? Nevertheless, rather than voice the thought, she judged it best to focus right now on the details of Rory’s performance. “Passionate, isn’t he?” she murmured. “It’s a bit scary here in the front row. I’m afraid he might leap off the podium and throttle me.”

The Welshman nodded. “His first epic poem: an amazing achievement in twenty-four hours. And note, too, his subject matter: sex, love, and identity crises.”

“Yes. I can feel the raw energy.”

Rory launched into the next stanza, tears streaming down his face. Juliet concentrated on his recital until it drew to a close, and he stumbled down from the dais, sweating, to slightly bemused applause.

Llewellyn massaged his chin. “Excellent therapy: far better than Dynamic Meditation. If he finds an outlet for his feelings in verse, he could achieve the freedom he’s been seeking in vain for years.”

“Freedom from what, or who?” She eyed the Welshman narrowly, microphone poised between them. “Craig?”

He returned her gaze. “Yes. Why not? That’s a freedom you probably long for, too, don’t you?”

Her mouth turned dry. She hadn’t expected such a well-targeted attack from Llewellyn. She flicked the switch on the mike. OK, she could edit this stuff out; but she preferred not to record it in the first place.

“No answer to that,” she said.

“Ah. Perfectly diplomatic,” he observed. “Credit me with some powers of observation, Juliet. You don’t want to fall under Craig’s spell yourself, do you?”

“No chance of that. Stick to the point, Llewellyn.”

“Willingly. The point is, Craig doesn’t like all this. He insists he gives us a creative outlet already, and this is nothing new.”

“He’s right though isn’t he?”

“But, Juliet…”  A shadow of disquiet flickered across his face. “Surely you see this is radically different to anything Craig offers. You do, don’t you?”

She felt perturbed. Was all this an ill-advised bid for her good opinion? “I left my personal viewpoint outside the entrance gate when I drove in on my first day here.”  She hadn’t used this line before, and now it was out, she strongly doubted whether she’d ever pull it into service again. It sounded hollow.

Llewellyn’s next remark confirmed her insight. “Your words put me in mind of something Zoe said earlier.”

“Which was?”

“That all this
being objective
of yours is nothing but a front. Underneath you have very strong opinions about everything that’s going on here: you’re probably more passionate than any of us.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Restrained passion is very attractive.”

“Is it indeed?” she retorted, choosing to remain non-committal. Despite that, she was aflame with anger. How dare Zoe play the part of
agent provocateur
?

“She also threw out a challenge to me,” said Llewellyn, “that I might like to persuade you to open up.”

Juliet remained tight-lipped.

“Juliet,” he said, “you’re among friends here. You need hide nothing. You can trust yourself with me.”

And now his expression took on a powerful appeal. She was sorely tempted. If she played Zoe and Llewellyn’s game, it might afford some protection against Craig. She was about to respond when she realised everyone else had fallen silent and focused their attention upon her and the Welshman. “Llewellyn,” she murmured.