Mystical Circles (19 page)

“We’re looking west here,” observed Theo, “across the Severn Vale to Wales.” A cluster of rays emanated from behind white clouds, intersecting the landscape, creating wedges of golden green and blades of light, increasing in transparency to the most distant hills. “Why do we love patterns so much?” Theo asked.

“Because we like to make sense of things,” she said.

He nodded. “True. It’s all so geometric. Wherever you look, you can see scalene triangles, obtuse angles and intersecting line segments. Did you know the Ancient Greek astronomers found God in geometry?”

Juliet gave a wry smile. “Did they?” she said. “You mean it helped them believe in a Great Designer?”

Theo nodded. And with that he set off again. Instead of going straight along the ridge, he followed a trail that curved round and down the other side.

“You seem very sure of your way,” she commented.

“Remember it from my last visit,” he threw over his shoulder.

After a descent that took several minutes, they could hear water bubbling beneath the woodland shrubs a short way below them.

“The voice of God is like the friendly chatter of a stream,” said Theo.

Juliet walked down to the brook. “Why have I never heard that voice?”

“Maybe because you don’t listen.”

“But I think of myself as a good listener. But what of you, Theo? You do a lot of listening. How long have you known Craig?”

“Eight months now. We first met last November.”

“And he invited you here in February?” she queried.

“That’s right.” He smiled at her. “I liked his idealism, and his desire to help people. I felt I had something to offer, with my experience in healing. And he agreed. So I came. And now I’m back again.” He stooped to pick up a pebble and throw it in the stream. “What do you want to know, Juliet?”

“Do you know anything of Craig’s background? His past relationships?”

Theo gave her a long, penetrating look.

“Or even Craig’s present relationships?” she added.

“He has confided a few things to me. But I’m certainly not going to pass them on to you, Juliet.”

“I suppose I asked for that,” she said. But she still felt stung and frustrated, and resolved to somehow – either during this conversation, or later – bypass Theo’s discretion. Catch him in an unguarded moment. She believed now he knew interesting things about Craig. Perhaps, even, the secret of who wrote that letter.

Meanwhile, she crouched down to trail her hand in the running water. As she did so, a green dragonfly wheeled before her eyes. She reached out as if to brush it away, but it had already gone. How could she persuade Theo to open up to her?

“I came here,” she said, standing again, “because Zoe said she was in love with Craig. Of course, I didn’t know how he felt.”

Theo nodded, but remained quiet.

Determined not to be put off by her companion’s silence, Juliet forged on. “But now, I don’t know what to believe, except for one thing. She must come home with me, to London.”

“And she thinks differently,” Theo said.

She cast him an annoyed glance. Then they set off again, walking beside the stream.

“Craig’s goal for his pupils,” Theo said, “is to loosen the hold the past has on them, to help them let go of the roles their parents cast them in. And in Zoe’s case, that probably means the role you’ve cast her in. Yes, Craig has mentioned it to me. But, Juliet – and I hate to be the one to tell you this –”

“No, feel free,” said Juliet, although she felt like hitting him.

“– I think Craig may already have achieved that goal with Zoe. In a very short amount of time.”

“What?” she cried. She was about to protest in no uncertain terms. But then she was silenced by a strained, questioning quality in Theo’s eyes.

He led the way forward once more.

Pushing her feelings down and regaining control, she quickened her step until she was alongside him. “That was an interesting comment you made on Monday evening at dinner,” she said.

“Which one?”

“The one about feeling more at home here than anywhere else.”

Theo’s smile briefly touched his eyes. “I have wanderlust in me. And also perhaps I have a fellow feeling for people who are avoiding pain.”

She gazed at him, full of curiosity and wonder. “And so, you’ve come here to…”

“…do a bit of soul-searching along with the rest of you. People always surprise me. Everyone’s unique. First impressions are often completely wrong.”

“Especially here, perhaps.”

“Yes. At the moment I feel most who come here are hoping to find a safe retreat from the world. And, of course, they’re attracted by Craig’s personal magnetism.”

“That makes sense,” she said.

“And it applies to you, too, Juliet.”

“Me?” At this she lost track of where she was going, and found herself in a clump of tall stinging nettles. Theo quickly came to the rescue and helped her out again. He looked at her in concern, but she refused his sympathy. She walked smartly on to conceal her agitation. What was Theo suggesting? No way would she fall into Craig’s power.

Theo persisted. “Naturally, having only been here since Monday, there’s much I don’t know. I have little to go on yet, of you and your feelings.”

“You’re right there,” said Juliet coolly as they began moving along the track again.

“Let’s take Craig’s followers, the ones who have fallen under his spell,” went on Theo. “Beth, for instance. She has her sights set on Craig. But it’s Oleg who loves her. Jealousy has nearly driven the poor boy out of his mind. Add another couple, Al and Laura…”

“So you know about that pair too?” interrupted Juliet.

“Yes. Al mentioned the situation to me as he showed me to my room on my first evening. Laura, like Beth, can’t make up her mind whether her heart belongs to Craig or not.”

“Oh? I’m surprised. I thought Laura and Al...”

“Oh no. Al would like it to be so, of course, but…”

Perhaps she’d misread the situation, then, when she’d gone up to the ridge with them yesterday evening.

“So you see,” went on Theo, “it really is like a night in Shakespeare’s wood outside Athens.”

Juliet laughed, pleased with the image. “So which part has Craig cast himself in?” she asked. “Oberon?”

“Not really,” said Theo. “For Oberon has his Titania. Whereas Craig… oh, it’s just a passing idea I’ve had… but sometimes I think he’s unlikely ever to commit himself. To any woman, that is.”

Juliet’s heart lurched. Was this the indiscretion she’d been hoping for? But it didn’t make sense. It didn’t fit in with her embryonic theory about Craig. If that was what you could call it. Not commit to any woman? But she’d thought… 

She tried to pull her mind back on track. And failed. Of course, there’d been no indication whether the writer of that letter had been male or female. She stamped down on that line of thought. And quickly tried to cover up her reaction, fearful Theo had noticed. But she felt oppressed for some time afterwards. She’d have loved to probe further, but didn’t dare. Her objectivity had vanished.

“And is there a role for me to play in all this?” she asked lightly instead. “Puck, perhaps?”

“Are you skilled with enchanted sleeping draughts?” enquired Theo.

“Probably not.”

“Whereas I might do for the role. I’ve abused a few illegal substances in my time,” remarked Theo.

Juliet pulled up at hearing this. “What was that? Ecstasy? Crack? Or worse?”

“Never mind the details of what it was.”

“So when did you do drugs?” she asked.

“Back in my university days,” said Theo. “Managed to kick the habit eventually.”

“You went cold turkey?”

Theo nodded, but would say no more on the subject. “So what I’d do, if I was Puck, then,” he went on, “is pour a potion into the eyes of Beth, and declare,
When you wake, you shall fall in love with the first thing you see
.”

“And then put Oleg in her way?” suggested Juliet.

“Exactly. A pair of star-crossed lovers.” Theo took the lead as they climbed up to the ridge again. The sky was still bright, but a cool breeze had blown up and was tugging at their hair and clothes.

When they reached the highest point, Theo paused. Juliet did too, watching him expectantly, and drawing her combat jacket closer around her.

“My words down there about my role as Puck were pure fantasy, of course.” He shrugged. “I will, naturally, mind my own business, and leave matters to take their course. If anyone wants to talk to me about it I’ll listen. But that’s all.” An unreadable expression on his face, he gazed down the valley to the orchard.

“But I imagine you must be highly practised at troubleshooting people’s problems,” Juliet said.

Theo stooped to pick up a stick, and used it to scribble in the dirt. “Answers don’t come to me as easily as that.”  He finished writing on the ground. “Perhaps I’ve found a few solutions. But often not until long after the problem first arose. And by then it’s far too late.”

“Hmm.” Juliet considered him doubtfully. They set off back along the path leading down to the orchard again. “So, Theo, I hear Craig’s given you an open invitation to stay as long as you like.”

“He has, much to my amazement,” said Theo. “But I’m still waiting to hear from the bishop. I’ve no idea what the future holds. I need to know what he plans to do about my book, and whether I’m to be excommunicated – though it is, admittedly, an extreme measure rarely used – and then probably only in cases where a vicar has murdered his parishioners.” He entered the orchard.

“Oh, so then it won’t be relevant in your case,” said Juliet as she joined him.

Theo cast a glance at her. “Have to be prepared for any outcome.”

Was he being flippant or not? It was difficult for Juliet to tell from the expression on his face. They crossed the orchard and reached the gate that led out onto the gravel forecourt.  Juliet turned to Theo again. “Why not stay here and write your next?” she suggested.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do that. This is Craig’s territory.”

She sensed he had something further to tell her.

He jerked his head toward the farmhouse. “Do you know how I first heard of this place? A colleague of mine came to dinner here a few years ago with the previous owners, a shepherd and his wife.”

“Really?” This was unexpected. “What sort of state was it in then? Did he say?”

Theo looked rueful. “Sadly run-down. The owners couldn’t afford the upkeep.”

“And that’s why they sold it to Craig?”

“Yes.” He was about to add something, when his mobile buzzed. “Excuse me.” He took the call. “Good afternoon, Bishop.” He listened for a while, then began, “But, Bishop…”  He fell silent. Then he said, “Oh, I think you’ve misunderstood the point I was making...”  His words were evidently cut off. Another few seconds passed as the voice at the other end continued. Then he said, “Very well,” and ended the call. Juliet studied his face. It was pale and distraught.

“Bad news?” she said.

Theo nodded.

“So he doesn’t like the book?”

“No.”

“What was it about again?” she asked.

“Synchronicity.”

“What’s that?”

“A term coined by Carl Jung to describe the apparently meaningful patterning of events that are not causally connected.”

She opened her eyes wide. “Like you coming here?” she said.

“That’s right,” he replied with a wry expression.

“I’d love to read it.”

“I’ll let you have a copy.” Theo’s mouth twisted. “My book explored whether such events might be random, coincidence, or God’s intervention. I never imagined there’d be a problem writing it. But it seems I thought wrong. Some of the bishop’s colleagues feel it’s heretical.”

She remembered him using this word before, on the evening of his arrival, at dinner.  However, she hadn’t taken it seriously at the time. But perhaps it meant more to her, now she’d had a chance to set it in the context of their present discussion. “Heretical?” she said. “That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? Mary Tudor used to burn heretics at the stake, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Theo. “But no need to worry, Juliet, the last person to be burned at the stake for heresy in England was executed in 1612. So I don’t think they’ll use that punishment in my case. But nevertheless, my bishop is a conservative evangelical and he’s surrounded by advisers who think along the same lines, some of whom aren’t too happy with my angle on things.”

He stood, arms at his sides, both hands fidgety. “Perhaps I’m to be cast into the outer darkness, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth,” he said. “The bishop has summoned me to a disciplinary review first thing tomorrow morning.”

11

Something Not Quite Right

Sprawling on the sofa in an Edwardian tea jacket he must have picked up from a theatrical costumier’s, James listened to the tea-time conversation but did not participate. Every so often, Juliet noticed, he moodily sipped from the bone-china cup placed beside him on the occasional table. Theo, despite his modest manner, was the centre of attention for the others in the oak-panelled library. Seated between the slight figure of Laura and the nervously twittering Sam on one of the sofas, he answered all questions shot at him.

Juliet too had stayed quiet for the past twenty minutes. As ever, her Nagra hung from her shoulder in its carrying case, and she was equipped with her microphone. But just at this moment, she didn’t feel like making any recordings. She was still struggling to come to terms with the mixed feelings that had arisen from Theo’s observation about Craig up on the ridge earlier that day. So Craig was unlikely ever to commit himself to any woman, was he? Well then, in principle she should be feeling pleased. She imagined Theo would have told Zoe that too, and Zoe would quickly realise she was better off leaving this place and coming back to London with Juliet.

But in fact Juliet didn’t feel pleased at all. Rather she felt a tumult of conflicting emotions. Why? Craig meant nothing to her personally. Though if he had a problem with commitment it was, of course, interesting, and she should probably investigate it in a further interview at some stage.