Mystical Circles

by S. C. Skillman

  She noticed, though, that Oleg hung behind. Here was her chance. She went to join him. “So, Oleg,” she murmured, “will you stay, or go?”

  “Go,” said Oleg.

  She waited. “Oleg. May I ask you something? What did you mean when you said you’d seen the darkness?”

  He hesitated.

  “It was just after Rory had started talking about his near-death experience last night, wasn’t it?” said Juliet.

  Oleg lost colour. “Yes,” he said. “Rory has the darkness in him. When Theo touched him, I saw it start to roll back.”

  She was silent. She couldn’t trust herself to comment on what Oleg thought he’d seen.

  “But I’m afraid,” said Oleg, “that it will soon return again. And I don’t want to be around when it does. Last night I was unlucky.”

  “Last night? Something happened between you and Rory, didn’t it?” said Juliet. She touched his shoulder. “Would you like to talk?”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Come with me then,” she said.

  8

  Outside Fielder

  The following morning a steadily climbing temperature, blue skies and a defiant breeze announced midsummer’s day. Juliet had only slept about four hours, having been up on the eastern ridge earlier to watch the sunrise. A magical occasion – aside from the fact that it was partially spoiled by the guarded atmosphere following the disruptions of last night’s feast.

  And she’d been oppressed by a greater weight beyond that. For Oleg’s revelations about Rory’s behaviour towards him had once more thrown the spotlight onto Craig. The group leader had evidently tried to put Rory off coming here in the first place. The fact that Craig had ended up, instead, letting him overstay his original booking increased the mystery. Why hadn’t Craig chucked him out? Was he weak? Or, worse, was he in Rory’s debt in some way?

  This, combined with her ongoing worry about Craig’s other secrets, intensified her desire to know the truth about him, whatever that was. She had come to see what Zoe was up to and rescue her from him. She hadn’t expected to find so many treacherous undercurrents. If the waters around Craig were so disturbed, how much less suitable a partner for her sister did that make him?

  As these speculations filled her mind she strolled across the forecourt and unlatched the gate. Beyond the sunken garden she followed a cobbled path which wound through dense shrubbery. Past the lavender bushes, azaleas and rhododendrons she found a delightful African thatched gazebo with enclosed wooden sides. She went in at once and admired it for several moments: a perfect place to sit and enjoy a quiet uninterrupted hour or so.

  Or so she imagined as she made herself comfortable on a redwood timber seat set against one wall of the octagonal structure, with her laptop and Nagra. But before she could settle down to her work, Edgar materialised in the doorway.

  He looked, as ever, as if he’d just been gliding along the cloisters with a copy of the Daily Office under his arm. Except it was his clipboard of notes instead. His solemn expression contributed to the effect. “Ah, Juliet. Not having a lie-in either?”

  She shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Enjoy sunrise?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Theo, for one,” he replied. “Our faith-healing cleric. What a shame he’s laid up with a migraine.”

  “Yes,” she replied, “but I think it’s early days yet to credit him with healing gifts. After all, we don’t know yet whether Rory or Oleg are going to show any long-term improvement, do we?

  “That’s true.” He contemplated her. “You still look tired.”

  “Yes. I lay awake thinking, until there was nothing for it but to get up again.”

  She pushed her hair back from her forehead. She certainly didn’t intend to share with Edgar the details of what had passed between her and Oleg after dinner last night. Fortunately he didn’t ask. The only person she’d entrust with that information was Don, whom she hadn’t seen yet that morning.

  “Mind if I join you?” He indicated the seat opposite her.

  “Please, feel free,” she murmured, resigned to losing her blissful solitude. She closed down her laptop.

  Seating himself, he placed his clipboard and papers beside him in a businesslike manner. Her heart sank. He began to cast keen glances at her. “You’re just starting your fourth day here, Juliet,” he observed.

  “I am indeed.”

  “And I’m sure you already have many interviews.”

  “Yes. Few more to do yet, though.”

  His expression turned even more purposeful. “What do you make of our esteemed leader?”

  She was taken unawares by the directness of this question. “Fascinating,” she said, before she realised what deductions he might draw from this.

  “Good,” he replied. “Juliet, as I said, you’ve been here for a full three days now, and this far into anyone’s experience of the Wheel of Love we like to get their impressions.”

  “And quite right too,” she said. “But I’ll need several more chats with Craig before I can understand what he’s about. And Sam: he’s terrified of me. He only seems to feel safe with Patrick, and perhaps Don. As for James, he’s hiding something. And not just the fact that he occasionally dresses up as a tramp.”

  Searching for signs of humour in Edgar, she found none. But there again, she expected perhaps she too sometimes came over as a bit of a killjoy. “And Rory’s a problem,” she added. “Later this afternoon I may tackle him about it.”

  “No. Don’t. That’s Craig’s job,” said Edgar abruptly.

  Her spirits lowered. Her time here was strictly limited. So was her ability to pay for an extended stay. She’d have to seriously look at the other commitments in her diary if she wanted to stay on. Next Monday she’d planned to be back in London. But she couldn’t possibly leave Zoe behind with Craig.

  Edgar said, “You don’t like things getting out of control, do you, Juliet?”

  She felt stung. How dare he? But relaxing her professional mask, she laughed. “I admit it’s not a nice feeling, Edgar.”

  He regarded her with a sardonic eye. “You won’t continue here for much longer and remain in control.”

  “But that’s exactly what I propose to do.” She had no desire for a battle of wills. But if he wanted one, so be it.

  However, when he next spoke he used a softer, more conciliatory tone. “I understand how you must feel, Juliet. Desire for self-determination; that’s true of each person here. When we first come we all intend to stay in charge of our lives. Look at Llewellyn, for example.”

  “Llewellyn? What of him?” Juliet felt her jaw tighten.

  Edgar now slipped into a more bantering style of speech. “Well, I understand he’s thought of little else but you, Juliet, since you both chatted together in his room on the night before last.”

  She gripped both sides of her laptop. So he was leaping to conclusions about her and Llewellyn. She stayed quiet, but her face burned.

  His eyes remained on her. He went smoothly on. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Since you first came, he’s quizzed me about you several times. It’s plain he’s got his eye on you. Go for it. You can’t stand back for ever.”

  How presumptious he was! She refused to dignify his speech with a reply.

  A few moments passed. Edgar evidently considered it politic to switch back to his original agenda. He picked up his clipboard, and rearranged several sheets of paper on it. “Now, Juliet, let’s look at your questionnaire.”

  “I’d prefer not to.”

  “Oh I insist,” he said.

  She resisted the urge to react. Instead, she watched a magpie flapping over the rhododendrons and coming in to land on the path near the window where she sat. Then he started a series of sharp jabs into the soil beneath the shrubs, as if he’d found a particularly fat worm just beneath the surface.

  She willed herself to breathe more slowly. It wouldn’t serve her pu
rpose to get angry with Edgar.

  “I tell you what, Juliet,” said Edgar. “Why not try one of Craig’s meditations first?”

  At this point footsteps approached, and Don came into view bearing a tray, vacuum flask, mugs and a plate of cookies.

  Juliet felt an enormous sense of gratitude and relief. What a well-timed entry on the scene. “This is civilised of you, Don.” She put her laptop down on the seat beside her.

  “Not at all.” He walked through the doorway and set the tray down next to Edgar. The researcher, she noticed, looked sour at the interruption. But it struck her as pure serendipity.

  “I’ll pour,” said Don. He indicated the cookies. “Patrick’s work.”

  “How lovely. On baking duty today is he?” she asked.

  He nodded. “And a dab hand too.” He began to unscrew the top off the flask. “Just took breakfast to Theo. Our below-par cleric.”

  “How is he?”

  “Too early to say. Poor chap.”

  She smiled. Trust Don to be economical with sharing personal information. He began pouring coffee into the mugs.

  “Shame he missed the sunrise ceremony,” she said.

  “True. Nowt to be done about it though. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Asked for croissants, by the way.” He tutted. “And an omelette. Cooked soufflé-style.”

  Juliet laughed. “Migraines do that to some people,” she observed, as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Yes.”

  “How long is he staying here? Do you know?” Juliet asked.

  Edgar supplied the answer. “Another six days, I understand. Craig’s keen not to lose him again on Sunday. Wants him to stay much longer.”

  Juliet’s investigative instincts were alerted by this. “I’d still like to know why he’s here at all. He mentioned, didn’t he, that he works for the Golden Chalice Foundation. What do they do?”

  “Run a healing ministry,” said Edgar, taking a mug from Don.

  “There you are. That explains it then doesn’t it?” said Don.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well, plenty of people here need healing,” replied the Yorkshireman. “And Craig could certainly do with back-up.”

  She looked at him curiously. “But not from a Christian cleric, I would have thought,” she said.

  He shrugged. No joy from him. Well, she’d ask Theo as soon as he was better. “I’m surprised though that he finds it most easy to be himself here,” she said. “He must disagree with several of Craig’s teachings.”

  Edgar waved his free hand in a gesture of light dismissal. “The significant thing is the amount of soul-searching Theo’s done. Craig’s convinced that with his gifts, he’ll be an asset to the Wheel of Love.”

  “And what sort of gifts are you referring to?” asked Juliet.

  “Discernment of spirits. Very important here,” said Edgar cryptically.

  Juliet wondered at this. How could a soul-searching clergyman in danger of being defrocked be relied upon to decide which spirits were charlatans and which genuine? Rather she suspected Theo might even come under the influence of the Wheel of Love himself. And that brought her thoughts back to Craig again.

  Don handed round the cookies. He and Juliet exchanged a glance. Neither said anything. A few moments passed as they all concentrated on munching.

  “I’m just about to take Juliet through Section 3,” said Edgar, wiping crumbs from his lips.

  “No you’re not,” said Juliet.

  “Ah. The famous questionnaire.” Don picked up the plate again. “Dig in, Edgar. Tell you what. I’ll take over.” He sat forward on the edge of his seat.

  As Juliet sipped her coffee, she felt like laughing. Don was doing his best to distract Edgar, and she deeply appreciated it. In fact he’d rescued her for the second time. She wondered what lay behind this unexpected act of grace.

  “I don’t know…” began Edgar. He looked from one to the other, suspicious, his second cookie poised in his fingers.

  Don drank his coffee. Edgar relented. “Very well, if you can persuade Juliet to answer these questions, Don. Very good of you…”

  “It’s nothing. You eat up. I’ll give Juliet the third degree,” said Don. He and Juliet conferred together, as he went through the form, circling numbers on her behalf.

  Then he stabbed the questionnaire with his forefinger. “What’s this? How certain are you that you understand your leader’s teachings… agree with your leader’s teachings... secretly think your leader is a waste of space… Call this scientific?”

  Edgar looked secretive. “The wording of the questions is very carefully designed. Rest assured. It’s scientific.”

  Don gave a bark of laughter. “No comment. That’s my motto.”

  “Not one I’ve noticed you live by,” said Edgar in a spiteful tone of voice.

  Their eyes locked. Juliet watched intently, whilst drinking her coffee. The tension mounted, then inexplicably slid away. Edgar moistened his lips. “You’ll be giving our visitor here a bad view of us, Don.”

  “Too late for that.” Don bit into another cookie. “She’s three steps ahead. She already knows that nothing adds up.”

  “Including the balance sheets, you mean?” said Edgar. “That’s no concern of mine.”

  “Ought to be,” Don retorted.

  Juliet viewed the researcher. He seemed unfazed. “James is working on recruitment,” he said airily. “Entry has never been dependent on means.”

  “Don’t I know it. What’s James’s news? Anything to show?”

  “Nothing he’s told me about. Give him a chance. These things take time.”

  Don grunted. “Look at me. Businessman. See what’s in front of me, and act on it. Like to be the same? Straightforward; honest; unsentimental.”

  Juliet listened to this with rising amusement.

  “I regard the prospect of being like you with total revulsion,” said Edgar. He passed his hand across his brow. “I fear I’m getting Theo’s problem too.”

  Don made a grimace. “Another one taken poorly?”

  “Yes. I shall follow his example, and go and lie down.”

  “Up well before the crack of dawn, weren’t you?” Don spread his hands. “Don’t hang around. Off you go.”

  Unusually obedient, Edgar gathered his clipboard and papers, put his mug back on the tray, and departed.

  For a few moments Don and Juliet both gazed at the blossoms outside the windows. Juliet suspected the charms of living here had lured people to drop all their commitments in the outside world. And Craig’s talents lay in popular psychology, inspirational speaking and charismatic leadership. By now, she’d had enough conversations with Don on the subject to know that financial wisdom had been left out somewhere along the line.

  “Before Craig got into all this, was there any other career you had in mind for him?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Business management.”

  She suppressed an urge to laugh.

  “A fine career,” went on Don. “Instead he’s here. With this lot. Let’s look at a case or two. Start with Beth.”

  “Beth?”

  “Yes. Financial drain. Pays the least.”

  “An emotional drain too I should imagine,” she remarked. “On Oleg as well as Craig.”

  He gave a chuckle of assent. “Too soft on the wrong people. Healing is what he calls it. What good’s that? Needs efficiency. He’ll go bankrupt if he carries on like this.”

  “Does anyone pay their way?”

  “Yes. Oleg. Unbelievably. Beats me how.”

  “The very one who’s threatening to leave.”

  He shuffled his feet and looked at her searchingly. “Had a word with him last night, didn’t you?”

  She’d been waiting for him to ask that. “Yes,” she said. “He made several worrying claims about Rory.”

  “Oh?” Don listened, eyes keen as a bird of prey.

  “Reckoned he attacked him on Sunday night,” we
nt on Juliet.

  “Assault?” asked Don.

  She nodded.

  “What kind?”

  Their eyes met and held.

  Don groaned, holding his head in his hands. Then he looked up. “Suspected something of the sort.”

  “I still only have Oleg’s word for it,” she added hastily. She knew she couldn’t necessarily believe everything she heard. Even so, she felt sick to the stomach at the thought of what Rory had allegedly done, and what he might yet be capable of doing, here in this community.

  And if Oleg was telling the truth, how could Craig let this pass? Why did Rory behave in this way? What reason could there be for his aggression? She for one felt very unwilling ever to go into a room alone with him. “So how’s Craig going to deal with this?” she asked.

  “You tell me.” Don’s eyes narrowed. “What was that about a near-death experience?”

  She drew a deep breath. She’d wondered whether that might have been self-delusion. “I think it was poor Oleg who had the near-death experience, not him.”

  “Perhaps I can explain.” A third voice had spoken. They both started. Craig stepped in.

  Juliet tried to steady her breathing. Why did Craig have this effect upon her? The breeze had stirred his dark hair. She was conscious of the warm colour in his face and the brightness in his eyes, as if he’d just been running. He wore a scarlet polo with pale-blue jeans. He looked very sexy. She couldn’t avoid acknowledging this to herself.

  “Push people far enough,” he said, his glance passing from Juliet to Don, “and there’s no limit to what they might do.”

  “Which means…?” asked Don.

  “Which means Rory wants watching,” said Craig. “You can trust me for that. No need to fear.”

  Juliet didn’t know what to say. Was this good enough?

  “Who started it?” asked Don. “Rory or Oleg?”

  “Oleg claims it was Rory,” said Juliet.

  “Of course he does,” said Craig, moving across to the seat on Juliet’s right. “But we cannot say. None of us was there at the time.”