Breaking and Entering (45 page)

As he turned the final corner and descended the steep hill, he was astonished to hear the sound of drumming – a steady throbbing beat which instantly transported him to Africa: watching the Kuomboka ceremony in western Zambia, or listening to a mother-drum echoing from the compound on a sultry summer evening. He glanced at the surrounding hills, the gnarled and twisted thorn trees, the stolid blackface sheep – hardly the setting for an exotic tribal rite. So what the hell was going on?

He parked the car in the tree-fringed lane and walked warily towards the tents. The campsite was deserted – unusual in itself. There was nearly always someone around, especially in this weather – some languid child or invalid sprawled out on a rug; some acolyte communing with the sky – but he couldn't see a living soul, except one somnolent dog. What struck him was the brightness of the colours: a pair of shiny scarlet Wellingtons on the deep green of a groundsheet; an orange tent with a clutch of yellow mugs outside; a turquoise blouse on the washing-line. For the last two hours he'd been inhabiting his dead grey past, but these vivid colours seemed to jolt him back to life.

The noise of the drumming was coming from an adjoining field, one they sometimes used for healing sessions. (JB claimed it was on the junction of two ley lines, whose power would help the healing process.) But healing sessions were conducted in solemn silence, not accompanied by a drum. Daniel followed the insistent beat; glimpsed a crowd of people standing in a circle on the grass. Almost everyone was there – not just the zealots like Happy, Claire, Corinna (and a fervent-looking Penny), but even shy Dylan, sickly Doris and conventional Len and Jeanette.

He edged a little nearer, keeping well behind the clump of thorny bushes, which provided an effective screen. Though actually nobody had eyes for him – they were too intent on the ceremony. It was being conducted by a youngish man he had never seen before, dressed in what looked like an animal skin and holding a large cowrie shell. A ripple of smoke coiled up from this shell and a sweetish aromatic smell seeped into the air: not incense, something herbal, though Daniel couldn't identify it at all. He peered more closely at the man, who was wearing frayed blue jeans, and above them, yes, a wolfskin – as disturbingly wild and primitive as the electrifying drumbeat. The drum itself, painted with a bear's head, was wielded by a second unknown man. He was taller than the first and wore nothing above the waist but an ornate silver pendant and a scruff of gingery chest-hair. As Daniel watched, the drumming gradually softened, subsiding to a gentle stroking movement, almost a caress. Was this the famous New Moon party he had heard discussed so often? No: that was over a week away, and surely even JB, with all his uncanny powers, couldn't tamper with the phases of the moon? He looked up at the sky, as if to check that hadn't happened, but it was too early for a moon of any sort. The last clock he'd seen (on the tower at Greystone Court) had said twenty-five past five, so it must be evening now. But the light was still undimmed; the weather suspended in a brooding tense humidity, which lay heavy on the hills and fields.

JB himself was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any sign of Pippa. Daniel was grateful for both mercies: he didn't want his daughter involved in way-out rites, and if he laid eyes on the healer, he was afraid he might lose his cool and actually attack him.

He emerged from the cover of the bushes and ventured into the field, fascinated and baffled at once. Two concentric circles had been marked out with stones on the grass, the campers forming a third circle around them. He was now in full view, but he realized no one was likely to spot him when they were so caught up in the ritual, every face rapt in concentration. All at once, he saw Penny step into the centre of the inner circle, to join the wolf-clad stranger. What on earth was the fellow doing? He had stooped towards her left foot and seemed to be wafting the smoke from his shell with a sort of feather-fan thing; his rough pelt almost touching her pale body. He continued to fan the fumes in a slow theatrical manner, proceeding up the left leg and the left side of her body, then around the top of her head, and back along the spine, and finally down the right leg to the right foot.

Daniel watched with increasing irritation as the entire process was repeated; the unsavoury-looking man squatting down once more to Penny's feet; his long hair brushing her bare leg. The drumbeats grew more intense, thrumming and vibrating in excitement, while all eyes were fixed on Penny. Suddenly, the wolf-man began to flap his feather-fan around her head, moving it faster and faster like a frenzied circling bird. The drumbeats matched its rhythm, finally pounding to a tumultuous climax.

Daniel turned on his heel and slunk back the way he'd come. He couldn't bear that noise a moment longer – it was too unsettling, even threatening. He also felt completely at a loss. He had returned after just one day's absence to find these two outlandish strangers conducting a ceremony more bizarre than any he'd yet witnessed. They made him feel like an interloper from a more conventional tribe, whose staid and sober members would never dream of prancing around with smoke and drum and feathers, but would remain tamely indoors with their improving books, their rational and demonstrable ideas.

He crossed to the next field, then picked his way through the camp to find his own tent – or rather Penny and Pippa's tent. He had scarcely set foot in it as yet. Inside, it was a tip: piles of dirty clothes left just anyhow; the bedding jumbled, streaked with mud; and a few discarded apple cores giving off a ripe and fusty smell. Penny's sundress lay crumpled in one corner. He picked it up and held it pressed against him for a moment; resolving there and then to sleep in the tent tonight, to get close to her again – close in every sense. Once he had her in his arms, it would be much easier to talk.

Elated by the thought, he set about tidying up; the simple routine task restoring some semblance of order to his life. He folded all the clothes, transferred the rubbish into one large plastic bag, then gave the double sleeping-bag a really vigorous shake. Several things fell out: a sock, another apple core, and an elaborate tortoiseshell hair-comb with a ruched velvet frill attached, which he remembered seeing Corinna wearing. So what was it doing in Penny's sleeping-bag? She couldn't have borrowed it from Corinna – it was useless for short springy hair. That left only one conclusion: they must have been sharing a bed. He slumped down on the groundsheet, staring miserably at the comb. The last thing he needed was any further complications – his mind was confused enough already. And he was worried about Pippa. Had
she
been there, watching her mother canoodling with another woman? And where was she now, for heaven's sake? Penny was obviously too absorbed in wolf-men on the one hand and female liaisons on the other to have time left for her daughter.

He rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in the pile of folded clothes, wishing he could cancel the whole day – the dalliance with Juliet, the horror of the Sayers thing, the disillusion with his parents, and now this new affront. He felt an overwhelming need to sleep; to sink down into a different world where partners were faithful to each other, chaplains were good holy men, parents loved you and protected you, and holidays meant pleasure.

‘Gosh, darling, you gave me quite a shock!'

Daniel opened his eyes, found himself staring into Penny's freckled cleavage, exposed by the deep V of her tee-shirt. At first he couldn't remember where he was and took some time to surface; eventually struggling to sit up and rubbing his cramped limbs.

‘I'm so glad you're back! I was getting really worried.' She didn't sound worried in the slightest, but bubbly and euphoric, as if she'd had one glass too many. ‘I was afraid you'd miss the party.'

‘What party?'

‘You're not ill, are you?' she asked, ignoring his own question and squatting down beside him.

‘No. Just knackered!'

‘Well, tonight will perk you up. It's a sort of Native American pow-wow with drumming and dancing and all sorts of chants and songs and things, and it's going on till dawn, and then we greet the rising sun and …'

‘You can count me out,' he grunted, flopping back on the bedding.

‘Oh, don't be a spoilsport! Everybody's coming.'

‘Well,
I'm
not.'

‘What's the matter, darling?' She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘Has your cold got worse?'

‘No,' he lied. ‘It's better.'

‘Well, didn't you enjoy your day?'

‘Oh, yes. It was fantastic!'

‘So what did you do? Tell me all about it.'

‘I visited this ruined Cistercian abbey …' He watched her excitement fade to bored politeness. He couldn't tell her anything – not now. He kicked Sayers and the Cistercians to the cellar of his mind; tried to take an interest in her own day. ‘But what about you? What's all this Native American stuff?'

‘Oh, it really is amazing!' The exhilaration surged back into her voice. ‘I hardly know where to start. We've learned such masses today, my head's in a total spin. You see, these two Robins showed up and …'

‘Robins? You mean birds?'

She laughed. ‘No, silly –
people
! Two marvellous men who both happen to be called Robin. They met in Dakota where they were working with healers from the Plains Tribes. We call one Robin and the other Rob, so they don't both answer at once! But they've got these medicine names as well – names the natives gave them, which they use in the formal ceremonies. Rob is Dancing Antelope and Robin's Wolf Warrior.'

Daniel bit back a retort. Perhaps he, too, should invest in a new name – Wounded Hart or Moping Ruminant. He did feel utterly deflated. How could he spend the night with Penny if she planned to sing and dance from dusk to dawn, and had two new rival healers to bewitch her? ‘But where's what's-his-name?' he asked. ‘Stephen, as you call him. Has he left, or something?'

‘Of course not! Rob and Robin only came here because they're friends of his. Apparently, they all spent some time together in Peru. They were studying there with another shaman several years ago.' She unbuckled her sandals, wiggled her grubby toes. ‘No, Stephen's gone on a mission of mercy. A local farmer called here, to beg help for his wife. I'm not sure what was wrong with her, but Stephen went rattling off in the farmer's ancient Land-Rover and told the Robins to hold the fort till he got back. Oh, Daniel!' She knelt up, took his hand again, her face radiant, alert. ‘The native traditions are absolutely magical! We've just had this fabulous pipe ceremony …'

‘Yes, I saw you.'

‘You
saw
us? When?'

‘Before I crashed out here. Heaven knows what time it was. I heard the noise and watched you for a while. Your Wolf Warrior chappie seemed to be blowing smoke on your legs. Funny sort of ceremony!'

‘Oh, that wasn't the ceremony. That was smudging.'

‘What?'

‘Smudging. It's what you do first, to purify everything – the pipe, and all the people taking part, and the sacred space itself. It's like a sort of smoke-bath. You burn these special herbs, you see. Robin brought them with him. Desert sage – that gets rid of all the negative energies. And lavender, for forgiveness, and something called sweetgrass, which Robin says brings beauty into your life.'

Exactly what I need, thought Daniel: one waft from Robin's magic fan and I'll be able to forgive the beauteous Sayers, and everything will be sweetness and light.

Penny was still talking, leaning forward and gesturing exuberantly. ‘You burn them in a shell because that's the water element. The herbs themselves are the earth element, and the smoke's the air, so you end up with all four elements – fire, air, earth and water. They're really keen on symbols. Rob explained it all. The bowl of the pipe represents everything that's female in the universe, and the stem is everything male. So when you join them in the Pipe Ceremony, that's a symbol of making love.'

‘Penny …' He longed to stop her at that point; turn symbol into fact. But she hardly seemed to notice he had spoken.

‘It's also a symbol of the whole of creation. In fact, what I really like about their ideas is the way they see everything as one, with no great gulf between animals and men, or even animate and inanimate. I mean, when Robin had finished the ceremony, and we'd each gone into the circle and offered prayers and things, he asked Great Spirit to hear our prayers and then he said, “for all our relations”. At first I thought he was referring to his family, but Rob explained that the phrase means all of creation – what he calls cloud-people, and stone-people, and standing-people (they're trees), and winged people, and four-legged people and two-legged people. Don't you think that's beautiful – that clouds and stones and trees and birds and animals are all part of us and joined to us?'

‘Yes, I suppose it is,' said Daniel bleakly.

‘Actually, I kept thinking of you, darling, because there was so much stress on tobacco. It seemed funny really – there you are, trying to give it up as an anti-social vice, while for them it's the central part of a ceremony! Apparently, spirits love tobacco. So when you build the Medicine Wheel, you sprinkle some between the stones, to attract them. Then you fill the pipe with seven separate pinches of tobacco and offer the first pinch to Great Spirit and the rest to the six Directions – that's Grandfather Sky, Grandmother Earth, and each of the four winds.'

Daniel could suddenly see Sayers's pipe, sitting dead and cold in the ashtray; smell that tobacco-breath again. Would the vile smell ever leave him? He grabbed Penny's arm, tempted to blurt out the whole story.

She misinterpreted the gesture as interest in what she was saying, and continued with even more enthusiasm. ‘I mean, what on earth would you have done, darling, if you'd been there when we smoked the pipe? We all had a little puff, you see, and I wondered if you'd find it just too tantalizing, and all your resolutions would go phut. Corinna and I were laughing about it afterwards.'