“Has Rory ever done anything like this before?” asked Juliet.
Craig didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he seated himself and settled back comfortably, right ankle crossed over his left knee. Juliet felt intensely aware of his presence. She was also conscious of the distrust between father and son. Maybe she could help. But did she have a right to intervene? And – worse – did it mean she was in danger of falling under Craig’s spell?
She checked herself. The Wheel of Love would not draw her in. She was sure of that. Or believed so anyway…
As she wrestled with self-doubt, Craig spoke again. “Rory does have special difficulties. Naturally, you feel a little fearful, Juliet. But I do intend to take action.”
“Let’s see it then,” muttered Don.
Craig held up a hand. “My strategy with my followers is to break down their defences. I still have work to do on Rory.”
“But what’s going on with him?” asked Juliet. “I understand he’s been here several months. One of the group made the comment that he’s overstayed his welcome. Now he’s assaulting people.”
“Well said,” Don remarked.
She waited for Craig to justify himself. Instead, he gave her a winning smile. “We still don’t know the true cause of the incident, Juliet. But I want to calm your fears. As I said, I have the matter in hand. This is a safe environment. A few respond at once, one or two take longer.”
“And put others at risk while they’re at it.” Again she felt something swirl through her, threatening to break her self-command.
“Not at all,” said Craig. “Just trust me, Juliet.”
“Why should she?” retorted Don, evidently keen to cut in to this.
“Every reason,” said Craig smoothly. “And remember too, both of you, there are those who like to cast themselves in the role of victim.”
Don was not impressed. “Psychobabble. That’s all it is.”
“No, Father. The victim role is one we can choose or not, according to our will.”
Don refused to take this idea on board. “Heaven help anyone who meets Rory down a dark alley,” he said.
“Don’t overreact, Father. I’ll speak to him in a few minutes. Then I’ll have a word with Oleg.”
Juliet was struck by how masterful Craig had seemed during the last few exchanges. She found herself beginning to believe in him. She’d seen him change appearance. He practised what he talked about. Perhaps he did have real insight into these people and would indeed succeed in resolving their problems.
Don, however, clearly did not share these feelings. “You need to bring Rory to heel. If you lose Oleg, you lose our best payer. Where does he get his money from, by the way?”
“Haven’t asked,” said Craig.
“Organised crime in one of those breakaway Soviet republics probably.”
“Watch your tongue, Father.” Craig’s voice was steady but his eyes flashed.
The distrust Juliet had seen smouldering between them a few moments ago now burned fiercely. What might Don be hiding behind these threat displays? Was it possible that Craig put up his theories as a shield to protect himself?
Meanwhile, a curious emotional shift stirred Don’s features, resolving itself into a blend of triumph and regret. “I funded this place. My patience soon runs out.”
Now Craig’s eyes spat fire. But he said nothing. The atmosphere seemed charged with static electricity.
Despite her fear that she might worsen matters, Juliet risked intervening. “Why not ask Theo’s advice? He seems a caring, thoughtful sort of character. When he’s better he may be able to mediate between the two of you.” Immediately, she wished she hadn’t said it.
Craig released Don from eye contact, and swung to face her instead. His expression wasn’t friendly. “I didn’t invite you, or Theo, here for personal counselling services, Juliet.”
“Of course not. I only meant…”
“Theo has his own issues to contend with,” said Craig.
Juliet shot a querying glance at him.
“What’s that mean?” asked Don. “We know he’s in trouble over that book of his. But…”
Juliet continued to study Craig’s face. She felt perplexed. Then she remembered the conversation she’d had with Rory about Theo at the dinner table, on the evening of her arrival. Rory had referred to a wilderness experience. Juliet had since then learned enough about Rory to know that not every one of his words could be trusted. Even so, she would like to confirm at some stage the truth of this claim about Theo.
Craig’s voice broke into her speculations. “The fact remains, Juliet, you’ll be well advised to keep out of this.”
None of them stirred.
“Why?” she asked. Several moments passed.
“Because…” and now a new, but much less hostile, expression came into Craig’s gaze, “if you probe too far you may discover things you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” she said. “In fact, Craig, I’m prepared to investigate just as far as I need to in order to discover the truth.”
“Is that so? Good luck then. You’ll find out during the next few days that nothing here is what it seems nor is it intended to be. You agree, Father?”
9
Shifts of Allegiance
None of her efforts to discover what Craig had intended by that remark yielded any fruit to Juliet. Did he suspect she’d rifled through his personal papers? Did he already guess she’d read that letter? And knew she believed it to be from a lover? There were no more opportunities to borrow his bunch of keys, or to slip into his study undisturbed. However she was vigilant and alert for any new openings. And one arose very unexpectedly.
An hour or so after lunch, she stepped out of the front doorway and nearly trod on a rake that had been left lying in the gravel. Avoiding it just in time she stumbled aside, steadied herself, and looked round. Somebody was crouching down not far away, wearing black jeans and T-shirt, his back to her.
“Oleg!” she said.
He twisted, jumped up and backed away from her in one amazingly swift motion. The look he darted at her made her think of a former Soviet defector being suddenly introduced to an ex-member of the KGB at a London drinks reception. The Cold War’s over, Oleg, she felt tempted to say, but kept quiet.
“Didn’t mean to leave the rake lying there,” he said abruptly.
She shrugged. “OK, I forgive you.”
He didn’t smile. A brief moment passed. She decided she had more important things to discuss with him than his dangerous behaviour with garden tools. “So you decided to give Craig another chance,” she remarked.
“No. He bribed me,” Oleg said.
Her mouth fell open at this. “Bribed you?”
“Yes. To keep quiet about Rory.”
“Why? What might you reveal?”
“Ha! You suppose I’d tell you? I’m not that much of a fool.” And he snatched up the rake handle.
“Well,” she said casually, “I can only speculate that it must be something the police might be interested in.”
He gave a bleak, almost mocking laugh. “And the rest of the emergency services too. And not a few shrinks.”
“Shrinks? You mean…?”
“Nothing. I said nothing.” And he threw himself back into the task of raking the gravel, with the fierce energy of someone working out an inner demon.
“Oleg…” she began.
But he made a threatening gesture towards her with the rake.
Better disappear, she thought. He’s dangerous; almost as bad as Rory. And she slipped quickly away.
She won no more confidences from Craig either, during dinner, and it seemed he saved his more interesting conversation for Zoe rather than Juliet. She had no wish to interrupt, so she ignored them. She found this uncomfortable and frustrating, but struggled hard to mask her feelings, especially every time she looked in Rory’s direction. He scared her. She couldn’t deny it.
As she left the table, Al strode up
to her. “Hey, Juliet, Laura and I are heading to the top of the valley later on. Do a bit of star-gazing. Like to join us?”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Perhaps you two…”
“No, no, no,” he rejoined. “You come too. We’d love it.”
So she relented. After coffee and brandy in the sitting room, the three of them walked up through the pastureland to the ridge. There at the top, way above the farmhouse, they stopped and fixed their gaze on the sky.
And how much sky there was here. Juliet realised this was the first time she’d fully noticed. The midsummer night, its profound silence, surrounded them.
Unexpectedly Al put his arms around both Laura and Juliet and drew them close. “Don’t let Craig work his way under your skin,” he murmured to Juliet.
She looked at him, startled. “How do you..?” she began.
“Watched you at dinner,” he said. “I get the picture. Can see what’s up with you guys.”
“But…” she said, then stopped. It was pointless objecting to his interpretation of this; far better to let it pass, and enjoy the moment.
Laura too was regarding her with an expression of warm understanding. “That’s right, Juliet,” she said.
What ideas was she harbouring now? Despite their good intentions, Juliet felt discomposed. And yet the perfect contentment that flowed between Laura and Al couldn’t but affect her too. She relaxed. Her feelings towards these two began to change. Both were people she’d previously had reservations about. Perhaps it was the influence of the landscape. And that, she now believed, was probably a strong element in what kept all Craig’s followers here, too.
But the next morning told a different story. She awoke feeling disoriented. Had it all been a dream, a matter of fickle emotions? Initially, she couldn’t marshal her thoughts at all. What day was it? She didn’t even remember!
Sitting up abruptly with a rising sense of panic, she swung her legs down by the side of her bed and grabbed the diary that lay on her bedside table. Leafing through, she confirmed it was Wednesday. Putting the diary back she sat and reflected. All she’d achieved so far was a few unresolved conversations with Craig, warnings to keep her nose out of the deadlock between him and his father, and no guarantee that Zoe had any plans other than to stay for ever. And a few hints from Oleg that there might be things going on relating to Rory that were illegal, a serious health risk and of interest to the psychiatric services.
She looked at her watch and groaned. She must go and get some breakfast. It was always a good idea to be up early, otherwise she could never tell what she might miss. But as she hurriedly washed and dressed, she continued to fret. Friday was two days away now, and she’d only allocated a week at most for this project.
She must decide what to do. She felt sidetracked by Craig, though she couldn’t be sure why. He had no power over her whatsoever, she was certain of that. And it was still vitally important she stick to her goal and get Zoe out of the Wheel of Love.
So thinking, she went out of her room and down the stairs. In the deserted kitchen she made herself a cup of tea, wondering whether the rest had set off on another Dream Yoga walk.
But on her way out of the room she passed James going in. A wave of Armani cologne assailed her nostrils. Her eye was immediately drawn to his gleaming collar studs. Whatever he did, he did to extremes. Either perfectly turned out or totally disgusting. It made her feel insecure, not knowing when the expensive aftershave might be swapped for the reek of the gutter.
“Morning, Juliet.” James used a hearty tone of voice. “Pleased with your interviews?”
“Certainly, James, thank you.” She sensed the artificiality of his manner. Was he, even now, in the process of transforming himself into the mindset of a vagrant? Perhaps he was wrestling his mental focus away from the world of elegance and good manners, towards that greasy wig hanging in his wardrobe.
“Excellent, excellent,” he said. “So we’re giving you value for money so far?” He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder, a gesture she greatly disliked. She was just about to make off along the passageway in the direction of the utility area, when she heard someone unlatch the dining room door behind her and come through. Turning, she saw Craig enter the kitchen. He left the door ajar, allowing her to overhear a short exchange between the two men.
“Any news yet, James?”
There followed the clink of coins being sifted in a pocket. Then came James’s voice. “None from the email I sent all my Edinburgh contacts. Perhaps I need to be more discriminating. Reword it more directly. Target only those I believe to be on an income higher than the figure you mentioned.”
Ah, so James had been in action. What would the group members think, if they knew the sole criteria for entry now was a healthy bank balance?
“Let’s hope some of them bite,” said Craig.
James’s mood continued buoyant. “We’ll soon have someone new. The moment I hear of it, I’ll let you know.”
At that the door closed behind them.
Hmm, thought Juliet as she strolled along. It sounded like they were making a genuine attempt to lift the community out of financial crisis. But would it be enough? Then she saw Don ahead of her. He’d just picked up a pair of walking boots from the rack in the utility area. He was examining them as if deciding whether or not they were fit for purpose.
“Off to the hills, Don?” she said.
He looked at her with a crooked smile. “Perhaps. You in search of interviews?”
“Yes.”
“Could try Theo,” Don said. “He’s out and about.”
Her heart lifted at this news. “Is he?”
“Saw him an hour ago.”
“I’ll try and catch him,” she said. “Yesterday I mentioned he might be able to help break the deadlock between you and Craig. Didn’t go down very well with Craig though, did it?”
“Nor me.” He looked at her defensively for a few moments, then flung his arms out in a display of frustration. “Neither of us wants anyone else poking their nose in. I admit it.” He dropped his hands to his sides once more.
“But...” she ventured, “it might help.”
“Hmm.” He hesitated, a slight frown on his face. “But would he listen? Pride. That’s his trouble.”
“Craig’s? And not yours?” Juliet studied him for a few moments. She believed she saw some of his defensiveness begin to crumble. The signs were very subtle, but she still detected a change, a loosening up.
“All right,” he grumbled. “You’ve got a point, Juliet.”
“What did Craig mean about Theo having his own issues?” she asked.
“No idea. Apart from that book of his.” Don shrugged. “But Craig’s a fine one to talk. Look at the hole he got himself into. Took disastrous financial advice, from an unqualified would-be accountant.”
“Who was that?”
“Pal of his from Edinburgh.”
Not another of James’s students, thought Juliet. She was getting closer and closer to understanding how Craig had gone wrong. At the very worst, it still seemed to her to be through misplaced generosity rather than any serious misdemeanour.
“What happened to his accountant?” she asked.
“Sacked him.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “And you came down here yourself. That’s sad. It gets worse and worse.”
“Shame you see it like that.”
“You know what I mean, Don.”
He nodded. It seemed he was in the mood for rumination. “As for Craig… can’t get any further with him. Me and him – we hardly ever talk. When I try, where do we end up? Down the same blind alley. Saw that yesterday.”
“I did. Difficult, isn’t it?” She remained determined not to offer advice. But she did feel the two of them needed to communicate better.
He set his boots down on the floor, straightened, and swung to face her. Evidently a decision had just fallen into place. “We need help. Never admitted it before. But now’s the time.”
“Good for you, Don.”
This certainly sounded like a breakthrough: even the acknowledgement that both of them would benefit from support, not just Craig. But she needed to take care. His tone of voice and the way he was looking at her made her slightly apprehensive about who exactly he had in mind, and whether he was still thinking of Theo. “Sounds great, Don, but what do you want out of this?”
He reached beneath a shelf, and pulled a three-legged stool forward for her, then sat opposite on an upturned wine-crate. “Number one, he agrees to close the Centre down. In an orderly fashion.”
“That’s unrealistic,” she said in dismay. “Craig wouldn’t do that.”
“If he doesn’t, he goes bankrupt.”
“What if he gets new recruits in who can pay their way?” Juliet asked.
“Probably too late.”
“But does he realise?” She spread her hands. “Don, I don’t know the true facts and figures. But from what I’ve seen so far, that solution is hardly likely to mean reconciliation for you and Craig, is it?” She scrutinised his face for signs that he might relent. “Wouldn’t it make the bitterness between you far worse?”
“Probably,” he said. “But what’s the alternative?”
“Not for me to say. What’s number two?”
“He comes back to Barnsley with me. And rethinks his life.”
Silence fell. “I’ve a suggestion,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“First, put aside your plans, and carefully consider his dream.”
“Craig’s dream?” Don looked outraged. “What about mine?”
Juliet sighed in exasperation.
Don shuffled his feet as he sat on his upturned crate. “My business. I hoped he’d take over. When I’m gone.”
“But does he want to?”
“Listen.” He raised his voice. “I’ve come here, sacrificed my holiday. What for? To help him. But…”
“But what?”
“He doesn’t respect me.” Don looked despondent. He stopped, seemingly robbed of further words.
Juliet wanted to supply them: ...or behave as if he loves me. But she felt unable to. She had no assurance he could take such a swift exposure of the wound. Don studied her. She waited.
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