Mystical Circles (6 page)

“Not too much I hope, while I’m here,” said Juliet, “for I’m really quite happy the way I am right now.”

Edgar gave a bark of amusement. “Your goals will change if you become one of us.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” said Juliet.

“When we give ourselves to him he changes our lives,” Laura told her.

“I’ve been meaning to question you about that. What does it mean exactly?”

“Simply that we throw off our self-limiting beliefs,” said Laura. “We wipe out negative messages from the past. And never speak of them again.”

“In fact we forget them,” said Edgar. “That’s why my initial interview is so important. I can’t possibly let people give themselves to Craig without offloading their past onto me first.”

“That’s an extraordinary statement,” said Juliet. “So each person tells you their story and then forgets it?”

“Yes.”

“But how can anyone forget their past? James clearly doesn’t.”

James chortled. “I’m the exception that proves the rule,” he said.

Juliet wasn’t quite clear how.

“For the rest of us,” said Laura, “this process of forgetting starts when Craig begins his work on us. He’s pulled me apart and reshaped me.”

Juliet glanced at the faces of the others but they remained impassive. How could she take this seriously? She decided to probe a little further.

“You make Craig sound very physical,” she said.

“I wish.” Laura giggled for some while.

Suddenly Juliet’s attention was drawn to Sam. His face had reddened. What was that about?

“Well, all right, not with me anyway,” Laura admitted, “yet.”

Nor Sam either, if his face was anything to go by. Juliet stored her observations away, together with the questions they raised. Plenty here for her to investigate later.

“Here you are, have some Branston pickle.” Al cut into the conversation in a very deliberate way. A large jar with a fork in it landed in front of Juliet.

“Thank you, Al. So, Laura, what exactly is your relationship with Craig?”

Silence fell heavily. Laura stared at her. So did the others. Then Laura said, “Here in this group we all share love equally, and nobody is to have an exclusive relationship with anyone else.”

“But
all men are equal and some are more equal than others
,” Al added enigmatically.

At this, Sam’s face burned even more.

Al’s rather artificial laughter hung in the air until Laura caught it and slapped it down. She shot him a warning look.

He quickly said, “You’ve changed in every way possible, Laura, since I first met you. You’re a different woman.”

“Am I really?”

“Sure.”

What must she have been like before?

Al and Laura held eye contact for several moments.

Juliet gazed at them. Clearly, passion was simmering not too far beneath the surface. If Craig wasn’t available, then perhaps Al would supply the deficiency. On first acquaintance with Laura, she hadn’t guessed she might be a candidate for such a relationship.

“I understand this is a wheel of love.”

“Oh yes.” Laura’s voice was low.

“And what does that actually mean to you?” asked Juliet. “In a practical sense?”

“It m-m-means everything to m-m-me.” Sam had spoken for the first time since James had entered the room. “All I care about is that Craig’s in t-t-touch with the t-t-truth, and he’s m-m-my m-m-master.”

“In what way?” asked Juliet. Silence followed. Then Sam began to bristle, like a highly-strung poodle who’d misinterpreted a cautious pat. She waited. Did Sam bite?

At that moment, the door opened. Craig stood there. She rose and faced him. Her heart pounded.

“Don’t ask too many questions too soon, Juliet,” he smiled. “Have patience. It’ll be worth it.”

4

Wheel of Love

A near collision with Craig interrupted Juliet’s progress along the first-floor passage later that afternoon, heading towards her four o’clock appointment with him. She’d been enjoying the sensation of walking on the smooth, almost slippery floorboards, worn by centuries of footsteps, when he emerged unexpectedly from a doorway.

“Sorry, Craig.”

He lightly held her shoulders to steady her, then let go. But before he did, she had felt a current of electricity flick between them. What was going on? She stepped back quickly, disconcerted.

“Don’t apologise.” His eyes held hers for several moments; longer, perhaps, than she thought necessary. “How was lunch?”

She gave a wry laugh.

“Colourful bunch, aren’t they?” he said. “Edgar’s set on those statistics of his. Sam’s scared of everyone. And James…” He hesitated. “Very talented man. Great loss to the acting profession.”

“I understand he’s your former mentor.”

He regarded her steadily but said nothing.

“You must have looked up to him at Edinburgh,” she said. “Did your father meet him then?”

His expression was unreadable. “I don’t encourage talk about the past,” he said. “Let’s concentrate on the present, shall we. Come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

And he held open the door for her. Holding her blue folder of paperwork under her arm, she walked into a well-furnished room which was evidently his study.

She took in two easy chairs upholstered in green velvet, which faced each other across a highly polished circular coffee table, on which sat a handcrafted terracotta incense burner. She recognised the oil he was burning at once: frankincense. Her favourite. Its seductive aroma permeated the atmosphere. How would she be able to hold a businesslike conversation with Craig, while that seduced her senses? She contemplated asking him to remove it from the room. But it was already too late.

“Take a seat, Juliet, please.”

She obeyed, and began to relax.

He sat opposite, and looked at her. Again, his eyes held an intense quality she found almost irresistible. But she was determined to steel herself against that. She glanced away, beyond him. Her eye moved from the flat screen monitor and keyboard on the mahogany desk. Behind it was a wall of bookshelves. In the brief moment her eyes swept across it, she registered one or two titles about mental health and another about the Middle East. For some not quite identifiable reason, she hadn’t expected such subjects on the shelves of a New Age guru.

The jade silk curtains exactly matched the colour of the carpet, and through the leadlights of the window she could see down to the front of the property, across the garden, and then up the thickly wooded slope to the ridge beyond.

The muted colours created a peaceful, dreamlike aura. She looked at Craig again. His presence, together with the angelic fragrance, continued to penetrate her mind and heart and soul. Quickly she laid the blue folder on the table. She was going to talk contracts and bank account details with him. Take a grip on yourself, she repeated inwardly.

Then she met his eyes once more. He was smiling. God, this would be difficult, she thought, and once again began to forget her own reason for entering his study in the first place.

But he surprised her by getting straight to business. “So, Juliet. A briefing.”

“Of course.” She took out a spiral-bound notebook and pen, ready to make notes.

“Edgar, Sam, and Al you’ve met. And James. You’ve learned a little about them. Now, we move on to Rory.” He paused.

“Rory?”

“Rory Anstruther-Jones. Born in London. South Kensington.”

“I know it well.”

“Good. Go easy, though, on talking about his past. Initially, he’ll impress with his gracious manner. But treat him with caution.”

She looked up from her notebook. “Why?”

“Can’t go into details. Confidentiality, you understand.” His eyes danced. Was he playing a game with her?

“But I’ll find out, if I ask the right questions,” she said.

“Exactly.” He leaned forward across the coffee table, put his hand out and gave hers a gentle squeeze.

Her reaction was disproportionate to the gesture. She felt as if he’d made some spiritual claim upon her. As if they had sealed some sort of pact. She started.

“Are you all right, Juliet?” He sat back, hands in lap again.

“Perfectly, thank you.” This would never do.  She was a confident, independent, professional woman. Not a naive, inexperienced young girl. She swallowed hard, and sat up straight. “Go on, Craig.”

“Emotionally, he may test you. It will mean some extra sensitivity on your part. Which of course you have in abundance.”

“Thank you, Craig.”

“You’re welcome. Next, Patrick O’Shaughnessy. From County Limerick. Coordinates all practical tasks. Very fond of Sam, I might add.”

She looked at him. His face gave nothing away. He crisply continued. “Llewellyn, our Welsh poet.”

“Ah yes, I’ve met him.”

“Excellent. Then there’s Oleg, our Russian friend. Once more, handle with care. Highly fragile. I’m working on that one. Next, Beth. Again, a troubled family background. Takes life too seriously. Oleg would help, but something holds her back.”

“Which is..?”

“Attachment to the past,” said Craig. “As is the case with most who come here. I offer healing for that.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Laura you’ve met. And Zoe – well I hardly need introduce her.”

“No.” A beat of time passed. She wanted to challenge Craig about her sister, and no words came. She made an extra effort. And said something different to what she’d intended. “You haven’t mentioned your father.”

“Of course. My father.”

“You teach forgetfulness of the past, I understand. But I detected some ill-feeling between you.”

He chuckled. “No, no, Juliet, you misunderstood. In any case I’m not open for discussion on that. Quiz my followers first. My time will come later.” Then he swiftly changed the subject before Juliet could get another word in. “So you want to draw up a schedule of interviews. Fine. I’ll make sure they all speak to you after dinner tonight, so you can get that sorted. Anything else?”

“Yes, your fee.”

“I’m quite happy with the figure you mentioned,” said Craig.

Again, she felt unsure whether he was taking this seriously. In fact she had feared he would want to raise the figure she had offered. Still, she felt she should accept this as a small act of grace.  “And the contract,” she said.

“Absolutely. You’ll want a signature.”

“Bank details?”

“In my drawer over there. You should have gone to my father first. He’ll have them off by heart.” He laughed lightly. Then he rose, and walked over to his desk.

From her position she could see into the drawer as he unlocked it. She noticed a piece of black-and-white checked material in his fingers as he lifted it out of the way, searching beneath. It caught her attention for a few moments.

“What’s that, Craig?” she asked. “Looks like an Arabic headscarf.” She had an instinct that it was a female headdress. Though she could have been wrong.

He pushed it back into the drawer. “You know James likes to dress up.”

She raised her eyebrows. “As a woman too?” she was about to say, when her eyes fell on a piece of charred and broken timber lying at the side of the drawer. “A souvenir of the house? Was that the state it was in when you first saw it?”

“Something like that, Juliet.”

“Had there been a fire?”

He smartly closed and locked the drawer, and pocketed the key. He said nothing, and didn’t look at her.

She felt puzzled and disconcerted. A moment later he pushed the signed contract over to her. “Must rush now, Juliet. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He touched her shoulder. She rose, collected her papers and he ushered her to the door, closing it firmly behind them both. In the next moment he was gone.

What on earth was that all about?

She felt slightly bemused, unsure what to make of Craig and his behaviour towards her. She’d gained some bite-size pieces of information about his followers. But he’d left no time for any discussion about Zoe. And he himself had remained as mysterious and as unknown a quantity as before. And had already sown some doubts in her mind that would need resolving.

For several seconds, she stood silent and baffled. Her mobile buzzed. She answered.

It was Toby. “How are you getting on, Juliet?”

She summarised events so far, and he seemed pleased. That was encouraging; Toby believed her subject matter would make great radio. But it was the line he finished on that unsettled her. “Whatever you do, Juliet, hold a little bit of yourself back.”

All very well for him to say that. But there again, Toby knew nothing of her anxiety for Zoe. And just as well too; she felt thankful for it.

“That’s the observer part of you,” Toby went on. “You don’t want to end up getting too personally involved.”

A few moments passed. How could she fully explain her ambivalence about it all? “No need to worry, Toby. I won’t let them brainwash me.”

But that, of course, wasn’t what centrally concerned her. Rather, her instincts had been alerted by a number of scents on the trail: and they all clustered around Craig, and what had gone on between him and Zoe in the time since they’d met.

There were, firstly, Don’s earliest words to her about Craig: 
My problem…son…he’s created his own philosophy of life…but no money sense
… and the words:
special ability…with young women…can be very charming
.

Then, there were James’s words: 
his mentor…met a need in him…one of many…unmet by his father
.

And finally, she recalled Craig’s remark: 
I don’t encourage talk about the past. Let’s concentrate on the present, shall we?

What was all this telling her about Craig, the man her sister was besotted with? And then there was the curious way Sam had reacted when she asked about Craig being
physical.
She felt slightly disturbed. No way would she explain her personal fears to Toby. They weren’t part of her brief at all.

“Must go, Juliet. You’ll strike the right balance. Perfect position. About the right age for people attracted to this kind of community. And your sister … her being there gives you the ideal opportunity to live alongside the group members. So long as you don’t take it too far, of course.”