The Healing Place

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 7

  He made a point of arriving home before nine pm, resolving to give Ella space to talk about the pregnancy as much as she liked, but it was Ella who seemed absorbed with other topics.

  He found her sitting at the kitchen table, pounding ginger root.

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said, kissing her. ‘I’ll do the food tonight.’

  ‘I’ve done salad; it’s in the fridge. This is a nausea remedy. I’ll steep it overnight and drink the juice tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you still feeling nauseous?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not now but I probably will in the morning. It’s usual for about the first three months.’

  Franz was amazed at her acceptance of a condition she hadn’t planned or wanted, at least consciously. Ella tended to accept life as it was; it was one of the things he had admired in her from the first. Franz made plans, set targets and put heart and soul into carrying them out, refusing to let any obstacle divert him from his purpose. Ella made plans then, if things didn’t turn out that way, she adjusted. She didn’t insist on the outcome from the outset and determine to achieve it no matter what else came along.

  ‘We’ll take some time to talk,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t very positive this morning, about the pregnancy. I’m sorry.’

  She smiled and shrugged, looking up at him. ‘It was a shock. For me too. It's allowed.'

  'We’ll talk it through,’ he promised. ‘Tell me how you feel.’

  ‘Oh, there’s plenty of time,’ she said. ‘Tell me about your day.’

  She stood up and took the salad bowl out of the fridge. He took plates and forks from the cupboards and put them on the table. They were used to walking around each other in the confined space and didn’t get in each other’s way. As Ella grew bigger, Franz reflected, this place might begin to seem too small for them.

  ‘Sharma’s leaving,’ he said.

  ‘He told me. He came into the shop this afternoon. It’s only temporary, while this police hunt’s on.’

  ‘I have to find a replacement to start off his courses. I’ve been phoning everyone I know for the past four hours, with no result.’

  ‘Sharma’s irreplaceable,’ Ella said.

  ‘Did you know his wife had left him and taken the boys abroad?’

  ‘That was ages ago!’

  ‘You knew about it, Ella? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Tell you? You work with him!’

  ‘He never mentioned it. No one said anything to me.’

  ‘I talked to you about it. I remember saying he didn’t deserve to be treated so badly – Sarita just left him a note.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that!’

  ‘Franz, I did!’

  ‘What did I say?’

  ‘What you always say when I tell you something: “Mm.” Then you go on thinking about whatever you were thinking.’

  He sat down heavily. ‘Am I that Neanderthal?’

  She tipped his face up to hers and kissed him. ‘Yes. In a New Age sort of way. You don’t tell anyone what you’re really thinking, I doubt you tell yourself what you’re feeling, and you filter out anything that might distract you from work. Apart from that, you’re perfect.’

  ‘Perfectly eligible for a character transplant!’ Franz said. ‘I thought I was a good listener but it seems not. Sharma said I needed to use my instincts and exercise discernment. Which would be fine if I knew what my instincts were and how I’m meant to be discerning between things that all seem equally significant.’

  Ella sat down at the table. ‘What context did he say that in?’

  ‘As he was leaving. I asked him if he thought I was doing anything wrong at The Healing Place.’

  ‘Well, there’s a first!’ she said. ‘I hope you are going to listen to him, Franz. Sharma doesn’t say anything unless he’s got something to say.’

  ‘I might listen to him if I knew what the hell he meant,’ Franz said. ‘But I don’t know what to do with gloom-laden predictions cloaked in abstract figures of speech.’

  ‘It may just seem abstract to you because you’re not on the same wavelength,’ Ella suggested. ‘What did he say exactly?’

  ‘I can’t remember it all. What are we having with the salad?’

  ‘The rest of the tofu stir-fry. It’s ready now. Don’t change the subject. As soon as we’ve finished eating I’m going to write down what he told you, word for word, so start thinking. Did any of it tie in with the dream you had?’

  ‘Possibly,’ he said tersely. ‘Is there any bread?’

  ‘It’s in front of you,’ she pointed out. ‘Listen, Franz ….’

  ‘Was there any mail today?’

  She knew the question was another distraction. Franz hardly gave out his home address and received most of his mail at The Healing Place.

  ‘Pizza delivery leaflets, a couple of bills, and a letter addressed to a Mr Finnucane.’ She pronounced it ‘Finn-yu-cain’.

  ‘Fin-noo-can,’ he corrected automatically.

  ‘Fin-noo-can, then. There was a letter for the same name last week.’

  ‘There was? What did you do with it?’

  ‘Wrote ‘not at this address’ on it and re-mailed it.’

  ‘You shouldn’t mess around with my mail!’ he exclaimed, slamming his fork down on the table.

  ‘It wasn’t your mail,’ she said reasonably. ‘But when the second one came today I thought it must be the guy who lived here before. Do you have an address to redirect it?’

  ‘I might have; I’ll check.’ He picked up his fork and started eating.

  ‘Franz, you’re really jumpy recently! Is there something you want to talk about?’

  ‘Sorry. Worried about losing Sharma, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re not losing him. He’s coming round for supper tomorrow.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Of course here. He won’t want to be out in some crowded restaurant while he’s intuiting about these boys. I told him he doesn’t have to stay and talk; just take a break and come and eat something. That’s okay with you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sure. He might not want to come.’

  ‘He said he would if he’s still in this neighbourhood. He may have to follow the boys’ trail somewhere else so I told him to play it by ear.’

  ‘Or by nose! You’re making him sound like a bloodhound!’

  ‘And you make him sound like a joke!’ she flared. ‘Don’t you believe in what he does?’

  ‘I don’t have personal beliefs of that kind, either way. I respect Sharma as a person and I respect his integrity in pursuing his own way.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Ella said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘That’s bullshit. You can’t avoid having opinions, unless you avoid thinking, and you can’t respect everyone’s beliefs equally; some people believe in fairies at the bottom of the garden.’

  ‘That reminds me,’ he said, avoiding her criticism. ‘Have you heard of something that sounds like Lucy-Fairianism?’

  ‘I’ve heard of it. I’ll ask Maz to look it up. She’s got a book on cults.’

  ‘It’s a cult? I don’t want that in The Healing Place. I should have asked this Leroy Watson on the phone if it was a religion of some kind.’

  ‘Luciferianism. Lucifer worship. Connected with satanism, probably. It’s getting big in the States so it probably is here as well.’

  ‘Satanists?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘What – black Masses at midnight and sacrificing babies?’

  ‘I doubt they start off like that. The extreme groups might. They believe in redefining good and evil. They think people have been brainwashed by Judaeo-Christian religion into experiencing guilt for actions and thoughts that are harmless or even positive. So they aim to set the balance by treating conventional goodness as something tainted, to be avoided, and experiencing so-called evil as good.’

  ‘They actually say that, in their teaching?’ asked Franz. ‘That good is evil and evil is good? How
does that work?’

  ‘Yes – well, they claim that all actions are morally neutral and by committing acts that society, and particularly religion, sees as evil, they’re breaking through traditional boundaries, changing the balance of power and challenging the authority of a God.’

  ‘To achieve what?’

  ‘To regain power in the world, and beyond it. They believe Satan will ultimately triumph and the ones who have followed his way will have the real power.’

  ‘Jesus!’ said Franz. ‘I’ll ring the guy back and cancel the meeting. I should have asked more questions when he rang. I don’t know why I didn’t. I always tell people we don’t do religion of any variety.’

  ‘Ask Sharma to do his intuitive stuff about it,’ Ella suggested.

  ‘He said I have to make my own decisions,’ said Franz, ‘in my own name, or someone will come behind me and make them in my name instead. Or something like that.’

  Ella swallowed her mouthful of salad and got up to fetch a pad and pen.

  ‘Not now,’ said Franz.

  ‘Yes, now,’ she said firmly. ‘This is serious, Franz. And you’ve got to take it seriously.’

  ‘You’re over-reacting. One dream and a parting shot from a distracted psychic.’

  ‘And a Satanist wanting to join The Healing Place,’ Ella said. ‘And you getting angry over nothing, recently.’

  ‘I don’t get angry over nothing,’ he said, with the utmost politeness.

  ‘Let me try you out, then,’ she challenged. ‘I went to see Jan today.’

  ‘The vicar’s wife. Okay. You said, she wants you to teach her the basics of aromatherapy.’

  ‘No. I wanted her to pray with me so I went to her home.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘See? You do get angry. You have opinions, you believe in some things and you don’t trust others. And you’re not equally accepting of everyone’s path to enlightenment. You’re paranoid about Christians, for a start.’

  ‘That is totally unfair!’

  ‘Okay. So the reason I wanted Jan to pray with me is that she’s changed her mind about aromatherapy and found evidence of something that might work better, at least for the old lady she visits, the one who was scared in her flat at night and couldn’t sleep. While she was with her yesterday she got the idea to offer to pray with her and she did, and the lady went out like a light and slept all night.’

  ‘So? Placebo effect. Nice kind person holds her hand and mutters some soothing formula and the old lady nods off. It’s not rocket science.’

  ‘It’s not likely either, Franz, for somebody severely anxious who hasn’t responded to sleeping tablets or high-strength antidepressants or to the kind ministrations of Jan and others on many other occasions. Jan phoned her this morning and she was serene and happy.’

  ‘You get the same results with aromatherapy. I’d feel insulted if I were you, Ella. She’s disrespecting what you do.’

  ‘Don’t be so spiky! I’ve talked to her and she’s like me: trying to examine the evidence and find what works for people and what doesn’t. She admits to being disappointed with God when she and Phil pray for things that don’t work out the way they want. But she says they don’t expect Santa Claus, giving them everything on their wish-list; they’re trying to understand God’s way of seeing things, which is deeper.’

  ‘The perfect cop-out when prayer achieves absolutely nothing that anyone wants!’

  ‘That’s what I thought. But I think they’re genuine seekers, now I’ve talked to them more, not people who dish out stock answers and switch off the thought process.’

  ‘Talked to them more? Who is 'them'?’

  ‘Jan and Phil,’ said Ella patiently.

  ‘I thought it was her you went to see?’

  ‘They live in the same house,’ Ella said, in the tone of someone addressing a small child. ‘He was having a cup of tea with her in the kitchen. We had a chat, then he went out and Jan prayed with me.’

  ‘What for? I mean, what did you go there for, Ella? I know you’re pregnant and people do out-of-character things ….’

  ‘Don’t you go putting everything I do for the next seven months down to my hormones!’ she warned. ‘I’ve got a mind of my own, Franz. I decide who I trust and who I don’t and I don’t have to ask your permission to see anyone!’

  He was silent. Then he said, more quietly, ‘It’s not the people I’m against, Ella. It’s the system they’re part of. I’ve had negative experiences of church authority figures. They may talk like enlightened people at times but the way they live is not healthy. They thrive on guilt and encourage it in everyone around them. It’s about control, about telling people what to think – or telling them not to think.’

  ‘You’re sounding like the Satanist guy now.’

  ‘No. But believe me. Stay away from those people, however nice they seem. Please, Ella. Promise me.’

  ‘I like them. I honestly don’t think they’re into manipulating people, Franz. I know terrible things have been done in the name of religion, the same as in politics and science and everything else human beings are involved in. But the people who do those things have agendas of their own. It’s not their God who’s making them do it – it’s their ego. They’re in rebellion against any Good Being other than their own inflated image of themselves.’

  ‘Rebellion,’ said Franz, remembering. ‘That’s something else Sharma said.’

  Ella reached for the pad and wrote the word down. Did she always forget her argument with him as soon as something threatened his interests, Franz wondered? He tried to recall other instances and couldn’t, but he felt there might have been other occasions when she had seemed angry with him then simply dropped her own grievance to focus on him.

  ‘You love me, don’t you?’ he said. ‘I mean, really love?’

  ‘You make me so mad at times, Franz,’ she said, looking him in the eyes and not smiling. ‘So much that I think my life might be easier if I didn’t feel anything for you, except mad. But I do love you, yes I do.’

  He took her hand and they sat there in silence, while the room became dark around them. After a while she stood up to turn on the lamp and he asked her, but gently, ‘Why did you ask Jan to pray with you?’ and she said, ‘For the baby. And me. It isn’t settled in me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She paused a minute before switching the light on, so although he turned towards her he couldn’t see her face.

  ‘We’re not rooted,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to bring a baby into the world without knowing if its life is going to be with us – with us both, as a couple, here.’

  She turned on the light and he covered his eyes, as if faced by interrogation.

  ‘I wanted the baby to be settled,’ she said, ‘in me, whatever happens. I want to be a secure home for it, for the rest of its seven months.’

  When he didn’t answer or look up, she sat down and took his hand again.

  ‘I’m not asking for promises, Franz,’ she said tenderly. ‘I just have to be able to stand firm, myself. Do you understand?’

  She took his other hand, the one that covered his eyes, and saw tears. He tried to put his hand back but she kept it.

  ‘I really want to be there for you,’ he said finally. ‘For you and the baby. But I don’t know what’s happening with me recently. I feel I’ve lost the plot somewhere: I’m doing and saying the same things I always have but I’m on auto-pilot. I can’t feel what I felt at the beginning, when The Healing Place was just setting up. I was so sure about everything then. Now you and Sharma and others keep telling me to be myself and I’m not even sure who that is. That sounds totally cheesy, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know who you are either, sometimes, Franz. You hide. But I do know I want to find out. As long as you do?’

  ‘I’m scared,’ he admitted.

  ‘Good. You’ve been scaring me, recently. We’ll get through it, however scary it turns out to be. All right?’

&nbs
p; ‘I don’t even know what there is to be scared of,’ he said.

  ‘Nor me. But something’s been gnawing at you and twisting you out of shape for a while. Let’s start with what Sharma said, shall we?’ She let go of his hand and picked up the pen and waited for him to dictate. ‘Start with the rebellion thing,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t think straight,’ he pleaded. ‘In the morning – okay? I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Okay. Or the afternoon,’ she amended, as he went out. ‘I might go to church in the morning.’

  His face, when he turned back, was so dark with rage that she gasped. He stopped himself in mid-movement towards her, staring at his raised fist, horrified. She sat very still, as if turned to ice. It was Franz who ran out of the room and she didn’t follow him.