Mystical Circles (34 page)

“Let go, Rory!”

He didn’t respond.

“Rory, I’m warning you…”

“Warning me of what?
You
have no power over
me
.”

She managed to twist away from him. “Rory, this is totally unacceptable. Why do you betray my trust in you like this?”

Once more she was on her feet, and hurrying to the door. She was just about to leave when she heard a voice behind her – high-pitched, terrifyingly vulnerable, childlike. It sounded nothing like Rory. It was not the voice of a grown man.

She turned, trembling. All the time she was amazed at her own ability to give him these second and third chances.

He sat, head in hands, back at the table. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in the same strange voice. His shoulders were heaving.  He was sobbing his heart out.

She felt numb with shock and fear and pity. She swallowed several times before speaking. “Rory, what is it?” she asked gently. “Tell me about it.”

Gradually he became more composed. “My problems,” he blurted in a voice that sounded like his own again.

“And what are they, Rory?” she asked.

“Come and sit down again first,” he pleaded. “Show me you believe I’m not a monster.”

Silently she did as he said. Dare she now risk a further question?

“Is it...” she began, then stopped. “Is it... your
thorn in the flesh
?”

He nodded.

“The violent episodes...?” she asked.

“They tend to get out of hand,” he whispered, “when I miss my medication.”

Her spine tingled. “Your medication?” she asked. “What kind?”

“Antipsychotic,” he said. “For schizophrenia.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said quietly. “Now I can begin to understand. I mean – about what you’ve suffered.” She rubbed her wrist. It still smarted painfully from his vice-like grip. She hesitated. Dare she plunge in? “Would you tell me more?”

“Willingly,” he said, now eager to unburden himself. “I hear voices. They are there to confirm that I’m the passive victim of evil forces. They criticise and torment me, and tell me I’m worthless. They give a running commentary most of the time. They discuss me between themselves.”

She listened, aghast. She wondered if the rest of the group knew, or whether only Craig did.

“They threaten me. Sometimes they tell me somebody here wants to hurt me. Then I must defend myself.”

As he spoke, she found herself recalling all the occasions since her arrival when she’d noticed odd behaviour in Rory.

There was the evening she first met him, and he said he’d had funny experiences in Gloucestershire which he regarded as an occult county. And he claimed that when Craig spoke to him his own words came out as gibberish. And he described Theo as a
soul mate
, simply because he learned Theo had had a wilderness experience.

Then there was his comment about the need for protection from Satan; and his misrepresentation of his own attack on Oleg as a
near-death experience
. Then there was his assault on Juliet for supposedly
sitting in judgement
on him; and his story about Laura and Al last night. The more she thought about it, the more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that was Rory fell into place.

His voices were evil, he’d said. “Rory…” she began again.

“Yes?”

“I hope you haven’t relied on Craig’s methods and exercises and therapy sessions to heal you?”

A few moments passed. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I have,” he said; “Largely.”

She nodded, and waited for several moments.

“I’ve got tablets,” he admitted, “but try to do without them.”

Anger was growing inside her. If Rory was open to mental health services – as clearly he should be – his file would probably be marked
Only to be visited in pairs
. And yet Craig had steered him off his medication, putting everyone – including her – at risk. Rory had nearly killed her. And Craig hadn’t warned her beforehand. Why not? She was going to have words with Craig. He had some hard explaining to do. “And… is there anything else?” she asked. “Do you eat properly? I’ve never seen you eat anything.”

“The voices tell me every day that someone’s poisoning the food,” he replied. “So I wait until the others have eaten to see who drops dead. By the time I realise the food’s probably OK because nobody’s keeled over, it’s too late.”

“And Craig knows about this food problem?”

“Yes. He lets me eat in my bedroom. It’s the only place I feel safe. I listen to opera on my headphones and drown out the voices.”

“This is so sad, Rory,” she said.

He relaxed slightly at her empathy, and withdrew a short way, giving her more personal space. “Thank you. Craig understands, too. He’s the only one who knows about it.”

“But, Rory, I cannot imagine you ever needed to be so secretive. It’s not as if it’s your fault. If Craig had explained properly… No one would have condemned you.”

“I appreciate your saying so. But I had no guarantee of that.”

“Did you ask Craig not to tell anyone?”

“Yes.”

Silence fell. What was she to make of this? Had Craig been right or wrong? On balance, she believed he had been wrong. Everyone had been in danger. And yet Craig had insisted this was a
safe environment
.

“One more thing,” Rory said. “I expect you’ve tried to puzzle out what I am; when the voices allow me, so have I.”

“Indeed?” This sounded curious, and disturbing.

“You’ll have noticed how I feel about Craig. I struggle with the wicked things the voices tell me. My feelings have nothing to do with the power of his teachings.”

“No?” she said.

“But,” he continued, “I never could be sure whether he reciprocated those feelings or not.”

She watched and listened with growing pity.

“So now,” Rory said, “I’ve decided to settle the matter once and for all.”

The door opened again. She turned. Craig stood there. “And how do you propose to do that, Rory?”

19

Visions Unfulfilled

Juliet was furious with Craig, but she kept it to herself while Rory was in the room, of course.

Craig had managed to dissuade Rory from any drastic solutions. One of his proposals was gender realignment surgery. Craig had convinced him it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Juliet had gently suggested Rory go and take a rest. And start taking his tablets again. Fortunately Rory hadn’t exploded again at this. He’d quietly left the room.

And then Juliet turned on Craig. “You knew all along. The poor man. Your methods could never cure him. Can’t you see that?”

Craig reached out and took her hand. “Juliet, calm down. I apologise,” he said.

“No, Craig, not good enough,” she stormed.  She snatched her hand away, then flinched – it was the one Rory had gripped. “And don’t try and get round me, Craig. You put my life at risk; in fact, you put everyone’s life at risk. He needs his medication. What was this? Some crazy experiment? You think you can heal manic depression? Schizophrenia? Psychosis? It’s heartbreaking, Craig, but we’re talking about severe and enduring mental illness.”

As he listened to her, Craig’s eyes had darkened, and his face had deepened in colour. “I was wrong, Juliet. I admit it,” he said. “But do try and see it from my point of view. The pressure was strong. Rory pleaded with me.”

“Maybe he did,” she said. “But why did you give in to him? And that’s another thing. Rory said he asked you not to tell anyone. But I cannot understand how the group members could have lived for so long with Rory in their midst, without knowing or guessing the truth about him.”

“Oh, they’re all aware there’s something wrong with him,” said Craig, “but without specialised knowledge none have been in a position to put a label on him. And I have preferred to keep it that way – to give Rory his best chance.”

“But what about the safety of your group members?” she asked.

“Safety from Rory’s aggressive outbursts, you mean?” said Craig. “In the past I’ve managed to contain them – mostly.”

“Ah, so I was just unlucky,” said Juliet.

He nodded.

“Thank you very much,” she said.

“Please don’t see it like that, Juliet,” Craig begged.

“I’m afraid I do, Craig. And now I’m beginning to understand Don’s frustration with you.” And with that, she hurried from the room.

After she and Craig had parted company, she went into the library and sank into the chair by the window. Her heart was beating fast. She felt emotionally torn. The same thought kept running through her mind.
Oh, Don, now I know how you feel
.

Craig’s attitude almost drove her to despair. She was unable to say how long she sat there. But her thoughts were eventually broken into by voices out in the hall, on the other side of the library door.

The first was that of James. “You’ll have to do something about him, Craig.”

“I know that well enough,” she heard Craig reply sharply. “What do you suggest then?”

“You’ve heard my ideas,” James shot back. Then he lowered his voice. “Look, this isn’t a good place to talk about it. How about the gazebo?”

“Fine.”

She listened as the front door opened and closed. Then her attention was attracted by movement on the other side of the window. James and Craig were crossing the gravel forecourt together. Craig unlatched the peacock-blue gate, and they both walked through into the garden. They disappeared from sight, undeterred by the light rain that dripped down from the trees.

So they were off to the gazebo for a private conference. She got up and followed. A wander through the shrubbery seemed in order. She had no reservations whatsoever about listening in on conversations not meant for her ears. Devious behaviour seemed to be the only way to get at the truth in this place.

The rain dripped off the lavender bushes as she trod quietly past and approached the gazebo. A hand touched her shoulder. She whirled. “Don,” she whispered.

He drew alongside. His eyes held empathy. She felt like throwing herself into his arms and holding him tight. She was going to say, “Don, you’re the only sane person in this place; the only person living in the real world.” But she didn’t. With a strong effort she resisted. That would never do. Neither the words, nor the embrace.

“Same mission?” he murmured.

She nodded. They stole forward a few steps, and peered into the gazebo. James and Craig could be seen through the wet blossoms covering the nearest window. The window was slightly ajar. James’s voice floated out. “I agree, of course,” James was saying. “Shall I get rid of him for you?”

Juliet held her breath. She and Don exchanged a glance. Who was he talking about? Rory? Then she realised James and Craig could also easily be discussing Llewellyn.

Then Craig said, “I think you’ll find that difficult, considering the circumstances.”

“What’s the alternative?” asked James.

“What I’ve feared all along,” replied Craig. “Do a deal with him.”

A deal? Who could they possibly mean? Llewellyn? Rory?

“A deal!” James gave an abrasive bark of laughter. “God forbid! He wants to drag you back to Barnsley. You’ll never agree to that!”

Juliet looked at Don. His face had whitened and his jaw clenched upon hearing this. Craig said nothing. Juliet sensed a deep chill cut in between him and James. At that moment, Craig looked up. They both dodged out of sight just in time. Don took her arm, and they moved swiftly away.

“If he’s going to do a deal he’d better move fast,” said Don grimly, as they headed back across the garden. “The group’s days are numbered.”

“I think you’re right, Don,” Juliet said. And she shared with him everything she’d learned about Rory. After she’d finished telling him, he stood deep in thought, shaking his head. “It’s even worse than I imagined,” he said.

“In view of this, do you think it’s possible to do a deal to save the Centre?”asked Juliet.

Don opened the garden gate, and stood aside for her to walk through. “Not in its present form,” he said. Hands in pockets, he regarded her.

She waited. Once again, her emotions perplexed her. She felt so ambivalent. Desire and longing battled it out with feelings of anger and hurt and frustration, following on from the whole business with Rory... she knew she was long past any possibility of staying objective. She’d just opened her mouth to ask Don another question, when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw James approaching. He seemed in a great hurry. He swept through the gateway past Don and Juliet without a word, and across the forecourt and round the side of the house.

What was that all about? Juliet wondered. It was uncharacteristically rude of James. Although she did understand he was probably upset by his recent discussion with Craig. As she thought this, Craig appeared, following behind James. He too looked agitated. However, on sight of Don and Juliet, he stopped.

The restless breeze whipped his dark hair back off his face. He was crushing something in his fist: a ball of paper.

“What’s that, Craig?” she asked.

“A plan I’m about to scrap.” He swung away. But his father stood in front of him.

“Looks like it’s all up, Craig, doesn’t it?” said Don.

“All up? What on earth do you mean?” rejoined Craig.

Don shook his head. “You’re still in denial, aren’t you,” he said.  “Listen. This business with Rory. Juliet’s told me all about it.”

“Has she,” said Craig, his face stony. “Well, Father, I think you of all people might understand why I had to give Rory his best chance of a decent life, here, rather than out there in the world, where he would become at best
the weird neighbour
,
the
nutter on the bus
,
the local loony
, or at worst, the permanent resident on the high-security ward in the psychiatric hospital.”

Juliet looked from one man to the other, bewildered. Why should Don have a special understanding of what drove Craig’s decision? Her bewilderment transformed itself swiftly into intense curiosity. What exactly was Craig saying? As she asked herself this, something snapped inside her.