Mystical Circles (15 page)

At this point, Theo got up and walked round the table to where Oleg stood poised close to the open door, ready to flee. He laid his hand gently on Oleg’s shoulder. Then he turned to address everyone else. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “Oleg is opening your eyes to something you need to acknowledge. Something you all need to
come out
about.”

A few moments passed, during which Oleg visibly relaxed. A kind of peace had seemed to settle on him at Theo’s touch. Then Oleg slowly returned to his seat. So did James, looking stunned.

A miracle! thought Juliet.

Next Theo went over to Rory, who was shuddering, and touched him as he had just touched Oleg. “Peace,” he said. A few seconds passed, and Rory’s breathing steadied.

Is Theo a spiritual healer? Juliet asked herself. For the first time since all this had begun she glanced across to Zoe to see how her sister was reacting. Zoe’s eyes were on Theo and she looked captivated.

“Thank you, Theo,” said Craig carefully.

“You’re welcome,” said the clergyman. “But I’d like to ask you all a question.” He held his hands out. “What do you all think love really means?” A pause followed. “And with that, I’ll leave you for the evening. Sorry, everyone. Would you excuse me? I’ve had a long journey. I think I’ll go straight to my room.”

“Oh please do. Feel free.” Craig sounded taken aback. Juliet looked at Theo in surprise. This was completely unexpected.

“We understand perfectly how you feel, Theo,” went on Craig. “Do go to your room. You must be tired. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Yes, yes,” said Theo.

“I’ll help.” Al rose to his feet.

Juliet thought Theo might be about to faint. She gazed at him in concern.

Seeing her face, Theo said, “Nothing to worry about, Juliet. This is nothing to do with what has just happened in this room. No, it’s just I suffer from migraines. Fortunately I recognise the early warning signs, so I’m able to take action before it’s too late.” At this, he left, with Al at his side.

A subdued atmosphere settled upon the group.

“I quite understand how Th-th-theo feels,” said Sam. “I th-th-think I’ll adjourn as well.”

“I’ll collect you for the sunrise ceremony,” said Patrick.

Sam nodded shakily. And he too left the room.

Craig wore a detached expression. It was left to James to take charge of the rapidly disintegrating group. “Eat up, everyone.”

“More champagne?” enquired Edgar.

“Not for me, thank you,” said Rory.

“You weren’t having any, anyway, were you?” said Laura.

Edgar touched her elbow. “All right Laura, don’t stir things up again. We all want to believe we’ve just witnessed a miracle.”

A beat of time passed. No one said anything.

Then Craig stood up. Juliet looked at him. For a moment he held her gaze. She saw nothing but calmness there. He inclined his head, and left the room. There was no indication that Zoe held a special place in his affections. His departure acted as a signal for everyone else to disperse. Beth, she noticed, had slipped out at the first opportunity, without a word to anyone, least of all poor Oleg. She wondered how Zoe was feeling. She tried to catch her eye but failed.

She noticed, though, that Oleg hung behind. Here was her chance. She went to join him. “So, Oleg,” she murmured, “will you stay, or go?”

“Go,” said Oleg.

She waited. “Oleg. May I ask you something? What did you mean when you said you’d
seen the darkness
?”

He hesitated.

“It was just after Rory had started talking about his near-death experience last night, wasn’t it?” said Juliet.

Oleg lost colour. “Yes,” he said. “Rory has
the darkness
in him. When Theo touched him, I saw it start to roll back.”

She was silent. She couldn’t trust herself to comment on what Oleg thought he’d seen.

“But I’m afraid,” said Oleg, “that it will soon return again. And I don’t want to be around when it does. Last night I was unlucky.”

“Last night? Something happened between you and Rory, didn’t it?” said Juliet.  She touched his shoulder. “Would you like to talk?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Come with me then,” she said.

8

Outside Fielder

The following morning a steadily climbing temperature, blue skies and a defiant breeze announced midsummer’s day. Juliet had only slept about four hours, having been up on the eastern ridge earlier to watch the sunrise. A magical occasion – aside from the fact that it was partially spoiled by the guarded atmosphere following the disruptions of last night’s feast.

And she’d been oppressed by a greater weight beyond that. For Oleg’s revelations about Rory’s behaviour towards him had once more thrown the spotlight onto Craig. The group leader had evidently tried to put Rory off coming here in the first place. The fact that Craig had ended up, instead, letting him overstay his original booking increased the mystery. Why hadn’t Craig chucked him out? Was he weak? Or, worse, was he in Rory’s debt in some way?

This, combined with her ongoing worry about Craig’s other secrets, intensified her desire to know the truth about him, whatever that was. She had come to see what Zoe was up to and rescue her from him. She hadn’t expected to find so many treacherous undercurrents. If the waters around Craig were so disturbed, how much less suitable a partner for her sister did that make him?

As these speculations filled her mind she strolled across the forecourt and unlatched the gate. Beyond the sunken garden she followed a cobbled path which wound through dense shrubbery. Past the lavender bushes, azaleas and rhododendrons she found a delightful African thatched gazebo with enclosed wooden sides. She went in at once and admired it for several moments: a perfect place to sit and enjoy a quiet uninterrupted hour or so.

Or so she imagined as she made herself comfortable on a redwood timber seat set against one wall of the octagonal structure, with her laptop and Nagra. But before she could settle down to her work, Edgar materialised in the doorway.

He looked, as ever, as if he’d just been gliding along the cloisters with a copy of the Daily Office under his arm. Except it was his clipboard of notes instead. His solemn expression contributed to the effect. “Ah, Juliet. Not having a lie-in either?”

She shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Enjoy sunrise?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Theo, for one,” he replied. “Our faith-healing cleric. What a shame he’s laid up with a migraine.”

“Yes,” she replied, “but I think it’s early days yet to credit him with healing gifts. After all, we don’t know yet whether Rory or Oleg are going to show any long-term improvement, do we?

“That’s true.” He contemplated her. “You still look tired.”

“Yes. I lay awake thinking, until there was nothing for it but to get up again.”

She pushed her hair back from her forehead. She certainly didn’t intend to share with Edgar the details of what had passed between her and Oleg after dinner last night. Fortunately he didn’t ask. The only person she’d entrust with that information was Don, whom she hadn’t seen yet that morning.

“Mind if I join you?” He indicated the seat opposite her.

“Please, feel free,” she murmured, resigned to losing her blissful solitude. She closed down her laptop.

Seating himself, he placed his clipboard and papers beside him in a businesslike manner. Her heart sank. He began to cast keen glances at her. “You’re just starting your fourth day here, Juliet,” he observed.

“I am indeed.”

“And I’m sure you already have many interviews.”

“Yes. Few more to do yet, though.”

His expression turned even more purposeful. “What do you make of our esteemed leader?”

She was taken unawares by the directness of this question. “Fascinating,” she said, before she realised what deductions he might draw from this.

“Good,” he replied. “Juliet, as I said, you’ve been here for a full three days now, and this far into anyone’s experience of the Wheel of Love we like to get their impressions.”

“And quite right too,” she said. “But I’ll need several more chats with Craig before I can understand what he’s about. And Sam: he’s terrified of me. He only seems to feel safe with Patrick, and perhaps Don. As for James, he’s hiding something. And not just the fact that he occasionally dresses up as a tramp.”

Searching for signs of humour in Edgar, she found none. But there again, she expected perhaps she too sometimes came over as a bit of a killjoy. “And Rory’s a problem,” she added. “Later this afternoon I may tackle him about it.”

“No. Don’t. That’s Craig’s job,” said Edgar abruptly.

Her spirits lowered. Her time here was strictly limited. So was her ability to pay for an extended stay. She’d have to seriously look at the other commitments in her diary if she wanted to stay on. Next Monday she’d planned to be back in London. But she couldn’t possibly leave Zoe behind with Craig.

Edgar said, “You don’t like things getting out of control, do you, Juliet?”

She felt stung. How dare he? But relaxing her professional mask, she laughed. “I admit it’s not a nice feeling, Edgar.”

He regarded her with a sardonic eye. “You won’t continue here for much longer and remain in control.”

“But that’s exactly what I propose to do.” She had no desire for a battle of wills. But if he wanted one, so be it.

However, when he next spoke he used a softer, more conciliatory tone. “I understand how you must feel, Juliet. Desire for self-determination; that’s true of each person here. When we first come we all intend to stay in charge of our lives. Look at Llewellyn, for example.”

“Llewellyn? What of him?” Juliet felt her jaw tighten.

Edgar now slipped into a more bantering style of speech. “Well, I understand he’s thought of little else but you, Juliet, since you both chatted together in his room on the night before last.”

She gripped both sides of her laptop. So he was leaping to conclusions about her and Llewellyn. She stayed quiet, but her face burned.

His eyes remained on her. He went smoothly on. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Since you first came, he’s quizzed me about you several times. It’s plain he’s got his eye on you. Go for it. You can’t stand back for ever.”

How presumptious he was! She refused to dignify his speech with a reply.

A few moments passed. Edgar evidently considered it politic to switch back to his original agenda. He picked up his clipboard, and rearranged several sheets of paper on it. “Now, Juliet, let’s look at your questionnaire.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Oh I insist,” he said.

She resisted the urge to react. Instead, she watched a magpie flapping over the rhododendrons and coming in to land on the path near the window where she sat. Then he started a series of sharp jabs into the soil beneath the shrubs, as if he’d found a particularly fat worm just beneath the surface.

She willed herself to breathe more slowly. It wouldn’t serve her purpose to get angry with Edgar.

“I tell you what, Juliet,” said Edgar. “Why not try one of Craig’s meditations first?”

At this point footsteps approached, and Don came into view bearing a tray, vacuum flask, mugs and a plate of cookies.

Juliet felt an enormous sense of gratitude and relief. What a well-timed entry on the scene. “This is civilised of you, Don.” She put her laptop down on the seat beside her.

“Not at all.” He walked through the doorway and set the tray down next to Edgar. The researcher, she noticed, looked sour at the interruption. But it struck her as pure serendipity.

“I’ll pour,” said Don. He indicated the cookies. “Patrick’s work.”

“How lovely. On baking duty today is he?” she asked.

He nodded. “And a dab hand too.” He began to unscrew the top off the flask. “Just took breakfast to Theo. Our below-par cleric.”

“How is he?”

“Too early to say. Poor chap.”

She smiled. Trust Don to be economical with sharing personal information. He began pouring coffee into the mugs.

“Shame he missed the sunrise ceremony,” she said.

“True. Nowt to be done about it though. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Asked for croissants, by the way.” He tutted. “And an omelette. Cooked soufflé-style.”

Juliet laughed. “Migraines do that to some people,” she observed, as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

“Yes.”

“How long is he staying here? Do you know?” Juliet asked.

Edgar supplied the answer. “Another six days, I understand. Craig’s keen not to lose him again on Sunday. Wants him to stay much longer.”

Juliet’s investigative instincts were alerted by this. “I’d still like to know why he’s here at all. He mentioned, didn’t he, that he works for the Golden Chalice Foundation. What do they do?”

“Run a healing ministry,” said Edgar, taking a mug from Don.

“There you are. That explains it then doesn’t it?” said Don.

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, plenty of people here need healing,” replied the Yorkshireman. “And Craig could certainly do with back-up.”

She looked at him curiously. “But not from a Christian cleric, I would have thought,” she said.

He shrugged. No joy from him. Well, she’d ask Theo as soon as he was better. “I’m surprised though that he finds it
most easy to be himself
here,” she said. “He must disagree with several of Craig’s teachings.”

Edgar waved his free hand in a gesture of light dismissal. “The significant thing is the amount of soul-searching Theo’s done. Craig’s convinced that with his gifts, he’ll be an asset to the Wheel of Love.”

“And what sort of gifts are you referring to?” asked Juliet.

“Discernment of spirits. Very important here,” said Edgar cryptically.

Juliet wondered at this. How could a soul-searching clergyman in danger of being defrocked be relied upon to decide which spirits were charlatans and which genuine? Rather she suspected Theo might even come under the influence of the Wheel of Love himself. And that brought her thoughts back to Craig again.