Mystical Circles

by S. C. Skillman

  “Oh! Hello, Don,” she said.

  “Watch where you’re going, Laura.” He jerked his head towards Juliet.

  Laura assessed Juliet with birdlike eyes, and Juliet returned the scrutiny. Laura could have been in her twenties, or her late forties, for all Juliet could tell. Her hair fanned around her head like a gorgon. Looks like she hasn’t brushed it in days. Wouldn’t impress in a BBC production office. Not that she’d be likely to enter one.

  “You’re Zoe’s sister, aren’t you?” Laura spoke in a breathless voice.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Thought as much. Recognised your hair. You look so like her.”

  “Yes. People often say that.”

  “You’re a freelance journalist, aren’t you? Zoe told us. And I was expecting a big power-dressing media type.”

  “Were you?” said Juliet, amused.

  “Let me introduce myself. I’m Laura. Laura Greevey.” She held out her hand, which Juliet took at once.

  “Pleased to meet you, Laura.” Laura’s fingers felt light and insubstantial.

  Disengaging her fingers from Juliet’s, Laura turned to speak to Don. “You’re taking Juliet through, are you?”

  “Looks like it. Craig landed me the job.”

  “I’ll do it if you like,” Laura offered.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Suits me fine. Want to join us, Laura?”

  “Be happy to.” She looked at Juliet. “Zoe’s booked you a room. We’ll show you up there.”

  Juliet followed Laura and Don into the dining room. Shafts of light slanted across the flagstone floor, and the finely blended scent of ancient oak timbers and beeswax polish came to her nostrils. She gazed at the dark exposed beams and the deep window recesses. Her heart lifted, despite herself. This looked and felt like the sort of place you might dream of staying in for a country house weekend break.

  Other elements combined in the fragrance. Looking about her, she recognised the source of these as the basket of apple logs in the fireplace, together with two shining bronze bowls of freshly cut roses.

  “What an inviting room,” Juliet said.

  “Yes.” Laura indicated a small black door to the left of the inglenook. “Beyond that’s a secret spiral staircase. Not so secret any more of course. Winds up through the thickness of the wall, and takes you to the Monk’s Room. I love it there.”

  “Good place to hide. If it all gets too much,” said Don.

  “Hope I’ll have no need for that.”

  He chuckled. “Expect you will.”

  Juliet’s spine tingled.

  Without qualifying his last statement, Don nodded at the oak refectory table set beneath a low-hanging wrought-iron chandelier. “They eat here in the evenings.”

  Juliet turned to Laura. “I see you can seat sixteen.”

  “That’s right. Enough to accommodate the permanent members, and any visitors like you. Come along.” Laura led her past the table. Juliet stopped. On the wall before her hung a large tapestry panel. She gazed at it, her favourite medieval scene, from The Lady and the Unicorn, with its rich colours and exquisite details. There stood the lady at the entrance to her tent, beneath the words: A mon seul désir, my heart’s one desire, jewels spilling from her hands as her maidservant held out an open casket. She was flanked by the seduced unicorn begging at her left, and the lion to her right. How appropriate for Craig to choose this, for the Wheel of Love.

  They passed through the doorway and entered a sitting room. Late morning sun streamed through the leaded window panes, tinting the oak floor timbers gold, and enriching the colours of the silk long-fringed rugs.

  “Another lovely room,” murmured Juliet. But something wasn’t quite right. Though she couldn’t say what.

  A gold-painted grandfather clock dominated the opposite corner. A number of flame-red velvet armchairs invited the three, from their position in front of the oak wainscoting.

  Laura chattered on. “We won’t sink into them now. We all gather in here for drinks before dinner.”

  “That’s right. A whisky or two guarantees survival in this group,” muttered Don.

  On the surface, it all looked perfect to Juliet, with or without the addition of a cocktail hour. And it was clear why Zoe loved this place. And yet she still felt something was not as it should be. She managed a polite smile.

  They passed through a further doorway into the entrance hall, again with low ceilings, polished oak floors and wainscoting.

  Don fanned the pages of a bookings diary on the circular table. “Here’s your room,” he said. “It’s up in the loft. I’ll take your suitcase. Let’s go.”

  “Oh,” said Laura, “and have a brochure while you’re at it.” She lifted one from a pile beside the diary, and tucked it into Juliet’s pocket.

  They began to climb the oak staircase, which creaked with every step. Laura and Don led her past the first floor.

  “Keep climbing,” said Laura. They went up a steeper, narrower flight of stairs to the attic, which had been converted to provide extra accommodation.

  “Here you are.” Don opened the first door on the left. “Two more bedrooms along there. Can’t think for the moment who’s in them.”

  “I look forward to finding out.”

  “Now I come to think of it, might be Zoe’s in one,” he said. “There’s a bathroom up here too. Settle in.” He put the suitcase on the bed. For a moment he looked around thoughtfully. “Not bad up here. Me, I’m in the goose house.”

  “The goose house?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Been converted into a bedroom and bathroom. Round the south side of the house, past the barn.”

  “And very nice too,” said Laura, behind Don. “Almost wish I was in it myself. But I’m down on the first floor.” She giggled. “Near Al’s room.”

  Juliet looked at her. What did this signify? Who was Al? She’d make it her business to find out before long.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” went on Laura. “You’ll find lunch in the kitchen. See you down there.” And before Juliet could ask again when she might expect to see Zoe, Laura and Don disappeared.

  Once in her room, Juliet sank onto the bed and took several deep breaths.

  Well, she’d arrived. But she did wish she’d met Zoe. Her instinct was to set off and search for her sister at once. She had so many questions. What might Zoe’s plans be for herself and Craig? Did the pair of them, in fact, have any plans? And the group: mad but harmless, Don had said. What did that mean? And did Zoe agree?

  Unpacking could wait. She jumped to her feet again. Then she remembered the brochure. Quickly, she pulled the tri-fold format publication from her pocket, and opened it out.

  If you’ve been searching all your life, but have so far not found what you’ve been looking for, you’ve come to the right place. Here at the Wheel of Love, you may sharpen your subtle knife and cut a window into heaven. There are no limits to what you can achieve here; only those you impose upon yourself. You’ve chosen to come so we promise to supply the necessary tools. If you accept these tools and use them well, you’ll enter a freedom you’ve never dared dream of.

  Craig will reach deep down into your spirit and touch a part of it you never knew was there.

  She closed the brochure. Creepy. She didn’t need him to reach down into her spirit, or provide her with tools to enter heaven. Nor did she trust the word freedom, until she knew how he defined it. How did Zoe get caught up in this?

  But she had to admit the place didn’t look like her idea of the headquarters of a weird sect. More like a luxurious English country retreat.

  And there was Craig’s father. A brusque Yorkshireman auditing the accounts. Sharp-tongued and clearly not a hundred percent in sympathy with his son.

  She speculated about Craig’s community. She’d only met one member so far, Laura. Quaint little lady. Elfin features. Seems to have stepped out of a nineteenth-century children’s novel. Probably meet her again later.

  Then she focused
on her surroundings. A compact room, purple curtains, lilac carpet, fitted out in antique pine, perched beneath the black rafters. The dormer window had diamond leadlights and golden sandstone mullions. From where she was standing, she could see down to the front of the house, onto the gravel forecourt.

  Then movement before the front door attracted her eye. Zoe. As Juliet watched, her sister made her way round to the back of the house. Juliet hurried from the room. If she was quick, she’d catch up with Zoe in the car park where she’d met Don earlier.

  Retracing her steps back through the rooms Laura and Don had shown her, she went along the passageway to the back door. Opening it and stepping through, she just avoided tripping over the champagne bottle, and hastened forward.

  “Zoe!” she called.

  2

  A Seductive Voice

  Juliet grasped Zoe by both shoulders, and looked straight into her shining eyes.

  “Juliet! When did you arrive?” Zoe flung her arms around her.

  “An hour ago. And I’ve found my room.” Juliet squeezed Zoe.

  “Cool. Oh, Juliet, you’re going to love it here.”

  “It all seems great so far. And you’re looking pretty good yourself.”

  “That’s probably because I’ve been doing yoga relaxation and creative visualisation this morning.”

  Juliet gave her sister a quick inspection. Somehow she’d imagined her looking different in this new life of hers. Though she wasn’t quite sure what she’d anticipated: shaved head and druid’s robes? She’d already seen the way Craig dressed, a clue to the fact that she’d have quite a few of her expectations defeated here. Zoe’s brilliant red-gold hair – a colour both girls shared – was worn loose and wild as ever, and she wore a navy and white tie-dyed cotton skirt. Her cream cheesecloth shirt flapped open, revealing the black lycra leotard she wore beneath.

  “Who knows what could happen?” said Zoe. “You may want to stay long term, Juliet.”

  “Hmm. Unlikely. It’s a big enough deal to have interested Toby in this project. I can’t afford to waste these next few days. I’m here to work, not to have a good time.”

  “Your plans may change. Be prepared for anything,” said Zoe.

  Juliet bit her lip.

  “How are things going with Craig?” she asked.

  “Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.” Zoe scuffed her trainers against the gravel, then pointed north. “Come on. Let’s go round the house to the front garden. We can sit there and talk.”

  “Sure.” Juliet hurried after her sister.

  Unlatching the gate, Zoe went through, and Juliet followed. Before them appeared a flight of stone steps leading down to a sunken lawn with a water-lily pond.

  “This is stunning,” she said.

  “Isn’t it?” Zoe indicated the Scots pines and the blue cedars over to the north of the sunken garden. The two girls went towards these. Scattered beneath were a number of white cane chairs.

  As soon as they sat down, Zoe burst into excited speech. “So Juliet, what do you think?” Her eye fell on Juliet’s pocket. “You already have the brochure.”

  “I’ve started reading it. Craig makes big promises, doesn’t he? They certainly lead you to expect huge rewards.”

  “And you’ll find them,” declared Zoe. “Wait till you meet him. He’s out of this world.”

  “I have met him.”

  “That’s wonderful. So you’ll know. He’s perfect.”

  “Well, I’m not quite sure about…”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  Juliet leaned forward, and took hold of Zoe by both shoulders. “Hey, I can see why you’ve fallen for him. He’s the best-looking guy I’ve ever met.”

  Zoe visibly relaxed.

  “If he feels the same about you as you do about him,” continued Juliet, “then that can only be good news.”

  A smile of relief spread over her sister’s face.

  “You’re here for the best of reasons, Zoe. And I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Let’s suppose Craig is everything you believe he is. But even so – what’s with the Wheel of Love? Sounds a bit dubious to me.”

  “We’re not like that Heaven’s Gate sect, you know.”

  Certain key words hammered into Juliet’s brain. Sharpen your subtle knife…cut a window into heaven…freedom you’ve never dared dream of… “This heaven stuff he goes in for… the bit about freedom you’ve never dared dream of, and him reaching deep down into your spirit… What’s that all about?”

  “You’d need to live as one of us to understand.”

  “Give me a break, Zoe. I won’t do that.”

  “If you want answers to your questions, read the rest of it.”

  “OK.” Juliet took the brochure from her pocket, and opened it out.

  She skim-read: express all your emotions, good and bad…interpretation of dreams…dynamic meditation…guided fantasies and group therapy…self-evident truths… destiny lies in our own hands…no such thing as chance or accident so far as human beings are concerned…any further questions, ask Craig…here to guide you. Use him. He wants to be used.

  “Doesn’t that fill you with hope?” cried Zoe, “and inspire you with a vision of new life?”

  “Can’t be sure. Craig says we must express all emotions, good and bad. Bad? I don’t want to express mine. He seems to think our destiny lies in our own hands. I don’t accept that. I’m here because I’m worried about you. How can he say there’s no such thing as chance or accident? Though, of course, I look forward to interviewing him about it, and finding out.”

  “Don’t be so negative.”

  “I don’t mean to be. Sorry it seems like that to you. Look, why not spend this week here, then return to London with me? If Craig cares for you, he’ll stay in touch.”

  “No. I don’t want to go back to London. I want to stay here.”

  “But you have so much ahead of you. And there are all your job applications. Don’t give up on them, will you? You have a good degree.”

  “I know, I know. But…”

  “You don’t want to waste it.”

  “Whoever said I was going to?”

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “Because you don’t understand how I feel about Craig. Your mind’s closed.”

  “No it isn’t. I’m here to learn the truth, just as you are.”

  “A different truth.”

  They glared at each other.

  “Craig’s hypnotised you, hasn’t he?” said Juliet.

  “How dare you suggest that?” Zoe sprang to her feet and flew across to the gate.

  Juliet jumped up too. “Zoe! Stop! I didn’t mean…”

  Snatching the gate open, Zoe turned. “You’ve already made a judgement, haven’t you? Call yourself a journalist.”

  Juliet opened her mouth to protest, but Zoe was racing across the gravel forecourt. Juliet remained where she was, trying to steady herself, shaking.

  Looking about, the place still seemed deserted. Where was everyone? Then a figure appeared from round the north side of the house, crossing the forecourt to the garden gate: Don.

  They might have had a sharp exchange that morning; but he was the only person she’d met so far here who had his feet on the ground.

  “Your sister didn’t look happy,” he remarked, as he closed the gate behind him.

  “No,” said Juliet. “She thinks I’m unsympathetic.”

  “And are you?” he enquired.

  “Of course not.”

  He rubbed his chin as he looked at her. “Been thinking over our little chat. Bit abrupt. Like to apologise.”

  “That’s good of you.” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her combat jacket.

  “Take a seat?”

  “Why not?”

  They went over to the white cane chairs, and settled into two placed opposite one another.

  “You and me – we’re both outsiders,” he said.

  “Yes. I’m here visiting Zoe. And you�
��ve come to look at the group’s finances.”

  He gave a curt nod. “Cash-flow problem.” He studied the ground, then looked up again. “This is by way of an annual holiday. Not how I planned it, of course. But that’s by the by. Call it a family visit.”

  “So what line of business are you in?”

  “Property management. For me, this place is a sizeable investment.”

  “Oh – I wouldn’t have expected Craig to have such connections.”

  “That so?” His voice was barbed.

  “Property business, you say. Is yours a demanding role?” she asked.

  “Company director and chairman.” This time his eyes remained fixed on hers. “My father ran it before me.” Reaching into his inside pocket, he pulled out a business card. “Here.”

  “Thank you.” She studied it. “Ah. Family firm. I’m surprised you decided to come here to your son’s community, and take on the worry of troubleshooting his problems. Couldn’t you have delegated that? Appointed an accountant perhaps? You must be a very busy man.”

  “Glad you appreciate it.” A little of his tension evaporated. “Not sure Craig sees it that way.” He probed the cane weaving on the arm of his chair with his fingers for a few moments. “But I had to come.” He volunteered no further information on the subject. “And you, Juliet? Who’ll broadcast your stuff?”

  “BBC I hope. I’m offering this to an independent production company and they’ll pitch it to Radio 4.”

  “And if they don’t want it?”

  “A local radio station might pick it up.”

  “You work for yourself?”

  “I do.” She slipped her hand into her own pocket, depositing Don’s card there, and then found one of her own business cards. “Here you are.”

  Taking it, he scanned it for a few seconds before looking up again. “So Craig’s giving you your big chance here.”

  “You could put it like that.” She hoped her newness to all this wasn’t glaringly obvious. She’d never sold a documentary before. Just filler spots for features programmes and regional news items. And (until Zoe’s email had knocked her off balance) her sole focus had been to win national acclaim with a documentary.