by Heide Goody
"I see in you a shining purity, Michael."
"Thank you."
"You've trodden many paths in your quest for enlightenment."
"I have."
"Many paths, but they have always been strict and pure. Tell me, Michael, are you at all familiar with the writing of William Blake?"
Michael cast around in his mind.
"Didn't he write Jerusalem?"
"Well, yes, but I was thinking of his more revolutionary, philosophical works. Blake put forward some really interesting ideas. Let me see if any of these resonate with you."
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom," he intoned. "You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough."
Michael frowned.
"That doesn't sound right," he said.
"Perfect!" boomed Elk. "Well done. I believe we've found the right direction for you."
"Have we?" asked Michael.
"I believe you're suffering from a fear of life's experiences."
"Are you sure?"
"Undeniably, brother. Your inhibitions are holding you back. You are like a jungle beast, wild and virile, but you are trapped in a cage of your own devising."
"Am I?"
"You pace back and forth in anger, not knowing how to break free. Did you ever stop to think why you resist doing certain things?"
"I don’t." He looked to Andy for help at this point, but Andy was practising some silent meditation with his eyes closed. "Do I?"
"You wear man’s clothes because society tells you to. You guard your thoughts and your words and do not say what you truly think. Society has conditioned us all to accept certain behaviour as normal or right. We no longer trust ourselves to make our own judgements. How do you know how much to eat every day? Do you read the government guidelines, or do you eat until you're no longer hungry?"
Michael was about to reply that he did both, but Elk pressed on.
"We trust our bodies and our minds to know what's best. One time we overeat, and we understand why it's a bad idea. Do you begin to see? We gain knowledge and enlightenment by allowing ourselves the full range of experiences. Have you heard of Cain and Abel?"
"The sons of Adam and Eve."
"Ancient Gnostics believed that by murdering Abel, Cain had done a good thing. He showed us all what murder was so that we might see it was wrong. Excess brings wisdom."
Michael nodded slowly.
"You want me to kill someone then?"
Elk clapped his great hands together.
"Ha! No need to go that far, brother, but I'm delighted that you're prepared to be open-minded," he said. "We can accelerate your programme so that you can work with Andy if you'd like?"
Michael nodded at Andy who grinned back at him.
"Now, let's think," said Elk. "I run a spiritual retreat once a month but – oh."
"What?"
"I had one planned for this weekend. Andy was going to come. A stag party from Cheshire had taken most of the bookings, but they've cancelled. I'm afraid we'll need to reschedule."
"Wait," said Michael. "That sounds like it would be great. Why can't you run it with just us?"
Elk sucked his teeth.
"I'd do it of course - it'd be expensive mind you - but the thing is, you need at least four people to generate the manifest chi that we need to work with.
"What's manifest chi?"
"Spiritual energy that we can all tap into. We make lots of use of it when we do the retreat, it gets really intense."
"Anyone can make manifest chi? I mean, really anyone?" asked Michael.
"Oh yes, the potential lies within each and every one of us."
"Well, in that case, I can sort out another couple of people, and the money shouldn't be a problem. Let's go ahead, I really want to do this as soon as possible."
Elk nodded.
"I'll work out a price for you, and we'll treat you and your friends to a weekend they won't forget."
Michael pulled up outside the flats, drawing in slowly at the kerbside to give Ben and Clovenhoof, who standing on the pavement, plenty of time to see him in his beautiful white car. However, the two of them were too busy examining a sign in the front garden of the flats.
He locked up and went over to them.
"Ben, Jeremy, I have the most exciting news. I’m taking you away on a-"
"Flat three's up for sale," said Ben.
Michael looked at the estate agent sign.
"It's Nerys's," said Ben, his face creased with confusion. "What does it mean?"
"It means she's decided to leave," said Clovenhoof.
"Anyway," said Michael, "my news-"
Clovenhoof clicked his fingers in inspiration.
"We should check to see if someone's holding her hostage."
"Hostage?"
"That's the only reasonable explanation for this."
Ben and Clovenhoof bundled through the door and up the stairs. Michael followed slowly in their wake.
After a barrage of knocks on her door, Nerys answered.
"Why are you selling your flat?" Clovenhoof asked loudly. "Wink your right eye if you're speaking under duress," he added in a whisper, tilting his head toward the interior of her flat.
Nerys rolled her eyes.
"I want to get away from here, Jeremy."
"Really?"
"I want to see something of the world outside of Boldmere."
"Why?" said Ben.
"Why?" said Nerys.
Michael watched her flounder momentarily.
"Are you on drugs?" said Clovenhoof. "Did the drugs make you do this?"
"No, I am not on drugs. Drugs would at least be exciting. I’m leaving this place. I need to see the world before it’s too late."
"I don’t think Armageddon is due for a while yet," said Clovenhoof. "I would have seen the memo."
"Too late for me," said Nerys.
"What about us?" Ben asked in a small voice.
"What about you? Why does it have to be about you?" Nerys replied impatiently. "It's about me. I need to move on. Michael, are you ready to go?"
Michael shrugged agreeably.
"Good!" she said in exasperation, slammed the door and shooed him downstairs and out onto the street before Ben and Clovenhoof could make another comment.
"Oh, is that your car?" she asked.
Finally, one of them had noticed. Michael opened the door for her by way of an answer.
Nerys smiled broadly.
"Just the sort of car that a successful boyfriend ought to have."
"Boyfriend?"
"I’ll explain later."
They headed into the city centre and Nerys hustled Michael through the Birmingham Bull Ring shopping centre from shop to shop.
"So you see," she told him, "the art of buying a perfect Christmas present is to get the person the thing they really need, but they just don't realise it. For instance. Ben needs more colour in his wardrobe, so I've chosen this pink t-shirt for him. It'll bring out his eyes. Jeremy needs to be more organised, so this memo board can go on his fridge and it'll help him to organise those little things. Like when it's his round."
She looked up from rummaging in her bags.
"So, now I need to go and get one last, essential gift."
"Oh? what's that?" asked Michael.
"A gift to me from my loving ‘boyfriend,’" she said, heading into a shop that was filled with dummies dressed in female underwear of the briefest kind. Michael hesitated at the door.
"Do not degrade your daughter by making her a prostitute," he quoted automatically and then shook his head. "No," he whispered to himself. "Through excess comes wisdom."
He stepped inside.
Nerys flicked through racks as she talked.
"Everyone loves undies as a present, don't they? It's like a gift that keeps on giving, if you know what I mean!"
"Er, not sure I do," said Michael, gingerly fingering a pair of red lacy panties.
"For a special pe
rson, it's the most intimate thing you can do," said Nerys, "and they're going to love you for it."
"Okay," said Michael and took several pairs from the rack and Nerys hummed to herself and she selected a couple of skimpy sets.
Nerys was feeling very pleased with herself. She had bought nearly all her Christmas presents, she was in fine company and she was miles away from her depressing flat and two selfish, whimpering flatmates.
"How about some ice cream?" she asked Michael. "There’s a place across the way."
"Or gelato as the Italians call it," Michael replied.
"Oh, really? Well we must go in there and have one, and you can teach me some more Italian!"
Nerys worked her way through a tall Knickerbocker Glory. The ice creams had been Michael’s treat. It had been a long time since any man had treated her to anything.
"Mmmm, this is good stuff. Right, let me see if I've got that right. Questa è la sua Ferrari? Credo di avere preso una storta alla caviglia, potrebbe darmi un passaggio per favore?"
Michael nodded in approval.
"Remember to trill those ‘r's."
"Ah yes, the Italian ‘r’s" she laughed. "Può per favore farmi una foto che mi fa risaltare il culo?"
"Perfect," Michael said.
"This is perfect," she said, indicating the two of them with her spoon. "It's as if we click, don't you think? If we were to pretend we're boyfriend and girlfriend, my family would definitely be convinced."
"I expect so," said Michael, looking sideways at her. "Do you really need to lie to your own family though?"
"Truth has no place in a Thomas family gathering," Nerys said. "You have to understand what they're like, we've been brought up on a diet of attention-seeking and scheming."
"You have only sisters?" Michael asked. "How many?"
"Three," nodded Nerys. "Jayne, who you know. Then there's me, then Catherine and then Lydia, the baby."
"Do they all still live in Wales?"
"No, Catherine bagged herself a footballer. Lives in Cheshire," said Nerys with a small scowl.
"Why are footballers so valued?" asked Michael. "It seems to me that their talents are rather limited."
"Oh, you have no idea! When my mom found out about Catherine, she was over the moon. Footballers have so much money! They live in these huge swanky houses and their wives swan around in the latest fashions. Lydia was so desperate to follow in Catherine's footsteps that she took up divining."
"Divining? The technique for finding water with rods?"
"Yes, but Lydia tried to use it to find men."
"How, exactly?"
"A copy of Hello magazine. She dangled the rod over each page until she got a twitch."
"I see," said Michael, not seeing at all. "I expect that your mother would stop such silly behaviour, though?"
"You're joking! Lydia told me that mom tried to get her to go all through Who's Who and find a millionaire, mom's age. Lydia lied, and said she couldn't do it without pictures."
"Your mother wants a new man?" said Michael "Oh. Your parents aren't together then?"
"Well, they've been divorced for years, but dad lives in the greenhouse."
"In the garden?"
"Yes. It's a big greenhouse," said Nerys. "With a shed attached. He's happy in there with his books and his maps."
"Isn't that strange and barbaric?" asked Michael. "Living in the garden, so close to his former marital home?"
"I thought it was cruel at first, but we told mom that there were frogs in the greenhouse so she doesn't go out there anymore. He's much happier now."
"Er, right."
"So, let's sort out some basics, then," said Nerys.
"Basics?"
"We should agree a story about how we met. Something that will stand up to interrogation."
"Oh, I see. Internet dating?"
"No," said Nerys. "Too desperate. I'm going to say that you slipped on the ice while you were jogging down by the canal, and you fell in."
"Okay."
"I jumped in and rescued you. We had to huddle together for bodily warmth when we were back on the bank, and the rest is history."
"It's not very traditional," said Michael. "I mean, I sound like a bit of an idiot."
"Thomas women always have to have the upper hand," said Nerys. "They'll lap it up. Now, I need to know more about your background. Where did you live before you came to Boldmere?"
"I was in a different city," said Michael. "They won't need to know those details, surely?"
"I need to know them," said Nerys, "or they'll smell the deception. Now, which city?"
"The celestial - oh. Ah..."
"Chester?"
"Yes, Chester," said Michael.
"Why did you leave?" asked Nerys.
"Oh, the usual reasons," Michael muttered.
Nerys looked at him questioningly so he went on.
"Urban decay, poverty, encroaching industrialisation. That sort of thing."
"In Chester?" Nerys frowned. "The cathedral city? Roman walls? Wall to wall fashion boutiques?"
"It’s changed, Nerys," said Michael awkwardly.
"So, is that where you met Jeremy? I know you two go way back."
"In Chester? No. Jeremy doesn't belong in Chester. Not now, not ever."
Nerys scraped the last of her ice cream.
"I will need to write up some notes about our past," she said. "And yours. I think you need a more convincing back story."
~ooOOOoo~
Ben heard a banging noise outside his flat. He opened the door to see what was going on. Clovenhoof also appeared at his door. Nerys was wielding a feather duster on the upper surfaces of the landing.
"Got my first viewing in twenty minutes," she said, as she moved down the stairs. "Got to have the place looking spic and span."
Ben looked up and met Clovenhoof's eyes. They knew exactly what they had to do. They had spent considerable time planning it.
Clovenhoof had requested some of Ben's model paints, and had gone off to do something with them. Ben spent the time wiring up some extra speakers to his stereo. He was ready by the time he heard voices on the stairs. He riffled through his selection of vinyl and settled on seventies gothic rockers, Bauhaus, as being loud, sinister, and not all that appealing to most people he'd ever asked. He cranked the volume up and the walls shuddered to the bass notes.
Clovenhoof burst in through the door.
"Here, sit down while I sort out your face," he said.
Ben closed his eyes as Clovenhoof painted circles round his eyes.
"I'm not sure these paints are safe for skin, you know," said Ben.
"Well that's even better. We won't have to work so hard when she has her next viewing. We'll already look diseased, or drugged-up," said Clovenhoof.
They moved onto the landing, so that Clovenhoof could work on the walls with the paint.
Nerys came storming down the stairs.
"Will you turn off that horrible noise, Ben! Don't you know I've got potential buyers with me?"
She stopped and stared in horror. Two women appeared behind her on the stairs, peering around her.
"What's wrong with your faces? Have you both gone completely mad?"
Ben and Clovenhoof groaned and staggered around in time to Bela Lugosi's Dead, ignoring Nerys's protestations. Clovenhoof managed to point out the colourful outbreak of mould that he'd just painted on the wall as he lurched past. Nerys's face turned a deep, dangerous shade of red and she went back up the stairs, apologising to the two women whose frightened eyes kept glancing backwards.
~ooOOOoo~
Clovenhoof found the drive down to Michael ‘spiritual retreat’ long and dull. He attempted to enliven the journey with some games, although no one seemed to be interested in armpit fart karaoke.
At least, he sighed to himself, the weekend away put some distance between them and Nerys, who had not seen their flat-viewing sabotage as the community service it genuinely was.
They arrived a
t the Wyre Forest campsite in darkness but Michael’s ‘guru’ Elk had already set up the camp.
"The teepee is our living quarters for the weekend," Elk explained. "There's a woodstove in there, so we can be sure it's good and cosy. We'll take your bags in there and you'll see that you've got beds made up already."
"This isn't camping," said Clovenhoof, who had flicked through a scout manual, mainly looking for pictures of big knives.
"No, this is luxury, one-of-a-kind accommodation in the middle of the wilderness. This is why your friend had to pay such a handsome price for this weekend. I hope you enjoy it, and find it spiritually uplifting," said Elk.
"How do you suppose he got all this stuff out here?" Ben whispered to Clovenhoof.
"I saw a quad bike at the back of the teepee. Might have a go later," Clovenhoof winked.
"That’s a heavy bag, Ben," said Andy, hauling their luggage inside. "What have you got in here?"
"Ah, just spare undies, and essentials," said Ben.
"Essentials like what?" said Clovenhoof, leaping out to take a look.
He unzipped the bag and rootled through.
"You must have enough underwear for a week!" he said. "And why have you got all these books? One, two, three, FOUR books about military history! Whoppers, all of them."
"Just a little night time reading."
"Or spare toilet paper if we run out."
"Next we come to the sweat lodge," Elk explained on his tour of the camp. "You'll see that the door faces the sacred fire, which will be ready in a short while."
Clovenhoof peered inside the earthy-looking sweat lodge as Elk led the group on.
"Good. I'll christen it now if you don't mind."
He pulled apart the animal skins and stepped inside.
"It's not a toilet!" hissed Ben.
"Too late. I'll be out in a moment."
"The sweat lodge will form a central part of our ceremonies this weekend," continued Elk, in the distance. "We sit on the benches and the firekeeper will pour water over hot stones in that hole there. You will find it a very memorable experience, I promise."
"I don't doubt that," said Ben, as Clovenhoof swaggered out, zipping his trousers.
After dinner, Elk had the four of them change into loose, comfortable clothing and sat them down on rugs around the open camp fire. He gave them each a small drum.