Mystical Circles (12 page)

“But Craig’s well able to deal with malingerers, I’d say.”

“Ha. You’d have thought so, yes.”

They sat for a while without speaking.

“Why wasn’t it set up properly?” she asked.

He snorted. “Long story. If he’d listened to my advice in the first place… But no, went his own way.”

She waited. Had he forgotten his ban on family stuff? But he offered no more information.

OK. Play it low-key. She’d try and gain his confidence later. Meanwhile, better move on to another subject. “You should have been on the Dream Yoga walk, Don. You’d have loved walking backwards.”

He gave a guffaw. “Sure I would,” he said.

She rubbed her finger across the smooth surface of her laptop. “Well, I’m trying hard to see the benefit in being forced to experience the world upside down, and even inside out for a bit.”

He nodded, and would have spoken again but for the musical Welsh lilt of a third voice to be heard behind him.

“When the world’s turned right way up again, it’ll make sense.”

“Llewellyn,” said Don, twisting to face him. “Here. Take a seat.”

“Thanks.” The Welshman bounced into the chair Don offered, his thick hair rising before flopping down once more across his forehead. “What do you make of lucid dreams, Juliet?” he asked.

“Never had one,” she confessed. “What of you? Do you think death could be a breeze?”

“I’m a poet,” he declared. “It’s my business to consider every option.” Moments passed, during which he held Juliet in his gaze.

He was attractive. She had to give him that. Warm brown eyes – why couldn’t Zoe go for him instead? No, she shouldn’t think in this way. But at least it was testimony to the positive light in which she saw this Welshman. “You know, Llewellyn,” she said, “I’m surprised you’re content to join a group like this, and follow in the footsteps of Craig.”

He held his hands wide. “Why not? Time for everything, isn’t there?”

“I suppose so, if you see it like that.” But she still felt curious.

He considered her. “Tell you what, Juliet. Come to my room later, nine o’clock, say, and I’ll explain further. If you’re willing, I’ll show you some poems.”

She gave him a sharp look. “No etchings?”

“Absolutely none.”

They both burst out laughing; in glancing sideways, she noticed a rather jaundiced expression on Don’s face.

“Then I might just join you as you suggest,” she said.

Don cleared his throat.

Juliet leaned forward and touched him on the arm. “I hope you don’t mind us making these arrangements in front of you, Don.”

“Not at all. You go right ahead.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, Don,” said Llewellyn, “I’m in no doubt at all that she’ll bring her recording equipment with her.”

“That remark leaves me with a perfect excuse to make no comment,” said Don.

But Juliet remained mystified by the look he wore. Was he labouring under the burden of some strong emotion?

“This is a safe environment,” said Llewellyn. “Craig keeps telling us that. A safe environment in which to do whatever you want and not to be misunderstood.”

Don was quick to come back at him on that one. “Safe for whom?”

“For each one of us, to be true to ourselves without fear of judgement.”

Don chewed his lip for a few moments. “True to yourself? If I was that, I’d tell you to keep your hands off this girl. And double your payment to Craig.”

The Welshman was about to reply, but Juliet broke in. “Really, Don, I’m sure Llewellyn has no intention of getting his hands on me,” she said. “Of course, I can’t comment on your second remark.” This stopped conversation for a few moments.

Llewellyn’s expression remained neutral. He said nothing.

Very wise, thought Juliet. Then she said, “I know this isn’t really my business. But even so, Don, whatever it was that went wrong between you and Craig when you set this place up, I do hope you two can put it right soon.”

“Remember what I said.” Don looked warningly at her. Then he seemed to relent. His gaze softened, became more reflective. “You can hope, any road,” he said. “We can all hope. No harm in that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Llewellyn, too, was scrutinising the Yorkshireman with an ironical eye.

Juliet turned. A fourth person had joined them. “Zoe!” Juliet said.

Zoe’s hair appeared tangled and unbrushed, not to her disadvantage, for she always looked pretty. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with a big blue heart on it. Her face was much paler than normal. What was up? Had she and Craig had a disagreement?

“Come and sit here, Zoe,” said Juliet.

“Oh, no, I won’t, thanks.” An awkward pause followed. Zoe stared at Don, then at Llewellyn, then at Juliet, in a searching way.

Juliet realised she’d left her laptop on, and closed it down.

Don got to his feet. “Want me to go?”

“Thanks,” said Zoe, startling Juliet.

Don jerked his head at Llewellyn. “Come on.”

The poet seemed hesitant. Don put his hand on his arm. The two men stood up, and headed off back through the garden toward the house.

“What is it?” asked Juliet.

Zoe still refused to sit, but stood in front of Juliet, hands on hips. Her eyes were bright with accusation. “I’ve just been with Craig.”

“Good for you.”

“Don’t give me that, Juliet,” Zoe flashed. She ran her fingers through her hair, and went on. “You’ve been stirring Craig up. What d’you mean by it?”

“Me? Stir him up? I didn’t mean to.” Juliet took Zoe’s hand, and her sister snatched it away.

The breeze tugged at Zoe’s hair as she grasped the lowest cedar branch, and bent it back. Then she spun. Juliet looked at her in alarm. “Craig’s sold on you,” Zoe stated.

“Get real, Zoe.” Silence fell. Juliet felt herself trembling – her arms, her fingers. This was the last thing she wanted, the very last. She hastily spoke again. “You’re way off course.” She took a grip on herself, and switched to a cooler tone of voice. “He was very high-handed with me, actually,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean a thing.”

Juliet stared incredulously as her sister snapped a stick off the branch, and began stabbing it repeatedly into the grass underfoot. “I’ve just been talking to him about you,” said Zoe fiercely. “And trust me, you’ve already got under his skin.”

“Shut up, Zoe!”

Zoe studied her with growing distrust, then looked away again. Both fell quiet for several moments. Then Juliet tried again, in a softer voice. “Listen, Zoe. I’m here because I care about you.”

“You’re here because Craig liked the sound of you on the phone. When he saw you, he was even keener. And now...”

“Cut it out, Zoe. His manner towards me at best has been one of cool courtesy. At worst he’s been either detached or slightly patronising.”

Juliet hoisted the strap of the carrying case over her shoulder. She bit her lip. She felt hot all over and was not going to play into Zoe’s hands by betraying it to her.

Zoe slapped the palm of her hand against the side of her head in exasperation. “Cool and detached?” she scoffed. “Just an act.”

“You’re fantasising.”

“All right. Refuse to see the obvious. At least I can recognise it when it’s staring me in the face.”

“Zoe, stop this.” Juliet spoke angrily, almost afraid of her own reaction.   

“No. You wise up. If you do fall for him and let him have his way with you, you’ll find yourself in big trouble.”

Juliet’s mouth fell open at this. Had Zoe gone crazy? “What do you mean?” she cried.

But it was too late. Her sister had turned and hurried away, leaving Juliet mystified and worried.

7

Signs of Mutiny

Dust motes floated in the beam of morning sunlight from the east-facing window. A Gothic clock on a wall bracket near Juliet, which she noticed had the phases of the moon on its dial, struck the hour of ten. Again she felt the dreamy, serene atmosphere in the house, at odds with the inner lives of the residents. And yet no house of this age would have long escaped political intrigue, fear and betrayal in the past. The same emotional turbulence within these walls prevailed right now – only the immediate causes were different.

She paused as she arrived at the bottom of the narrow staircase leading down from the attic. The many feet that had passed over them had worn the timber treads smooth and slippery. As she placed hers on the silken surface of the oak she needed to balance carefully. She placed her hand on the structural post to her right, which was helping to support the floor above. She wondered what the fissures in the timber were. Maybe a few Roundheads had tested the point of their swords as they searched the house for hidden priests or monks?

Some of the current residents would probably like to be armed with those same swords, despite this being a wheel of love. After Zoe’s explosion yesterday afternoon, there’d been a tense atmosphere between the two sisters at dinner. But Craig had said nothing to Juliet about any subsequent conversation with Zoe. So Juliet could only speculate that Zoe had kept any further thoughts to herself. Or had she completely misread the situation?

And then there’d been last night’s meeting with Llewellyn in his room. She’d been pleasantly surprised by the Welshman’s restrained behaviour. They’d spent an enjoyable time discussing and looking at poetry, both his and those of his favourite writers; she could find no fault in his manner towards her at all.

Now she stood on the first-floor landing, the Nagra slung over her shoulder in its carrying case. This was, she knew, a free morning for the group, but all seemed especially quiet today.

Floorboards creaked at the far end of the passageway. She slipped back behind the timber post, which served well as a hiding place. James was making his way towards her, looking faintly displeased. His pastel- pink shirt, however, perfectly complemented the mauve cravat. Both in turn harmonised with his smartly pressed cream trousers. She was in no doubt most of his wardrobe originated from a bespoke tailor. Despite her interest in his dual personality, some instinct told her not to accost him. His manner was restless. She remained hidden from view.

She watched as he knocked on the study door opposite. A low voice came from within the room.

“Yes?”

“It’s me. James.”

“Come in.”

He pressed down the black wrought-iron latch, and opened the door. Juliet saw Craig, seated alone before the computer screen. He turned his face in James’s direction as his mentor entered. Juliet registered Craig’s dejected expression.

James hadn’t closed the door behind him, and Juliet could see and hear the two.

Craig spoke first. “I need a break from the notes on the accounts.”

“Page-turning stuff?” James moved out of Juliet’s line of vision, and she heard him taking another chair.

Craig sucked his breath in between his teeth. “We’re in a mess.”

“So I guessed.”

Craig nodded. “Expenditure’s way above forecast, and income’s static. My father reckons he’s thrown money at this place, and we’ve nothing to show for it.”

James gave an impatient exclamation. “Nothing that he values. But everything you and I value is here in plenty.”

“True. But I’ve been wondering. Am I too extravagant?”

James scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Hmm. The antiques, the first editions, the wines… Talking of the wines, we seem to be getting through those at a rate of knots.”

“Can’t cut back. Ruin the spirit of the place,” said James.

“Perhaps. But I’m a bit stumped by the champagne.”

“The champagne? Why?”

“There’s hardly any left.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that,” said Craig. “Had a word with Patrick after breakfast. He says a case of
Dom Perignon
is missing. A dozen bottles.”

James tutted several times. “You think we have a secret indulger?”

“Looks like it,” said Craig. “Particularly worrying, now my father’s checking us over and finding fault where he can.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of it. Tomorrow we’ll be up on the eastern ridge at daybreak for the summer solstice. We’ve enough champagne for that, haven’t we?”

“I hope so.”

“Good. I’ll find out what’s happened. Sure there’ll be a simple explanation.”

“Thanks, that would be a great help. But, another thing, James…”  Craig indicated the computer screen. “Take a look.”

Silence fell for several moments. Juliet waited. Then James spoke once more. “Perhaps I’m biased, because I came up with the idea for this project in the first place.”

Craig nodded.

“It’s vital we make this thing succeed,” continued James. “Defeat isn’t an option. Don’t give in to him. We’ll sort it.”

“How?”

“Through increasing our income, of course.” James swept out his arms in a vigorous, authoritative manner within Juliet’s line of vision. “New recruits. That’s what we need. And I know where to get them.”

“Where?”

“I have contacts.” And with this, James jumped up and strode from the room. The door swung closed behind him. Juliet flattened herself against the panelling as he swept past, a new energy in his step, and hurried importantly down the main staircase.

So James was going to fix it, was he? She acknowledged to herself it was no bad thing to discover hidden depths in people. But she wouldn’t have thought James had it in him. After all, this rather pretentious academic with the curious taste for brief appearances as a tramp, would on first acquaintance not have struck her as the mover and shaker behind this operation.

Her thoughts turned to Craig. At that moment the study door opened again without warning and Craig came out. She held her breath. But he failed to notice her, and instead rushed past, in the same direction James had taken.

For one moment she paused. Craig had disappeared. She moved forward to the open doorway. Looking in, she saw a buff folder with a mess of papers on the desk, and a tracksuit top thrown carelessly over the chair.

She went quickly in, and quietly looked through the papers. Accounts sheets, printouts of online bank statements, receipts, credit card statements, final demands. Pages of handwritten sums and angry crossings-out and curt notes.