by Sonia Paige
‘And the animals we eat. If you have a pet dog or cat that dies, you bury it in the garden. But a cow or a pig can have its bones chopped up and scattered through a dozen different homes. And the bones get thrown away with the rubbish. Is that the way to treat the remains of a living creature with consciousness? So at home when the others eat meat, I bury the bones in the garden. Chicken drumsticks, leg of pork, shoulder of mutton. Other people don’t think it’s necessary, but I do. I get teased about that as well.’
Ren asked, ‘Are you aware that you keep putting your hands to your head? And that your whole body has gone tense?’
Anthea took her hands away from her head and sat on them. ‘Tension. Stress. That’s why I started going to relaxation classes last summer. For the neck, too. I was getting more migraines. They said it was all that poring over books and ancient objects. They said I should start taking care of my health. Lose some weight. That’s why I went.’
‘Did it help?’
‘It did. Bert noticed the difference. He used to remind me to go. “Mum, don’t forget your relaxation class today. Breathe lots of air. You’ll have so much air you’ll come floating to fetch me from school. With an umbrella, like Mary Poppins.” But it was at that class that I had one of the first strange experiences after I got back with the bones.’ Anthea stopped as if shocked by the memory.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Anthea hesitated. ‘I’d rather forget it. But the problem is, I can’t. I can remember it all in minute detail. Like a photograph. I’ll tell you it like that if you can bear to listen.’
‘That’s what I’m here for. Take your time.’ Ren’s eyes rested on her gently.
Anthea clutched handfuls of her bushy red hair on either side and tugged them backwards as if she were trying to smooth them. She looked around the room as if she hoped something would interrupt her. She put her hand on her forehead and took it away again. Then she started at speed:
‘The class was in one of those old stone primary school buildings that they use for adult education. That day, like every time I went to the class, I procrastinated by going into the Ladies first. It had white tiles. There were improvements going on, and the heavy wooden toilet doors had just been re-painted. In a deep maroon red. The paint still smelt. It was so thick and shiny it looked permanently wet. The paper towels had been replaced by one of those machines which waft a bit of tepid air onto your hands and then leave them to get chapped.
‘I always tidied my hair in the mirror while I was putting off going in. The class was called “Stretching and Meditation.” I know all about stretching myself – but that’s mentally, not physically. And meditation is scary. Relax your body and open your mind. Who knows what might come up? But I thought it would be good for me. A counterbalance to all that studying ancient things. What point being an expert on ancient incubation practices if you get headaches and have a stiff neck? “Find your way to another world of calm and peace,” the Adult Education blurb had said. Another world? I live in the present, I study the past. What other worlds could there be? That day I was going to find out.
‘In spite of the glossy paint, the building work hadn’t changed the look of the old toilets. It was a high, draughty space that suggested some earlier grandeur. The stone window frames reminded me of medieval cloisters. Get on in there, Ant, I said to myself.’
‘Ant?’
‘That’s what everybody calls me. Always have done. For short.’
Ren nodded. ‘Please go on.’
‘Am I being too long-winded? I’m telling the whole weird thing like it happened, from the beginning…’
Ren smiled. ‘It’s fine.’
‘I picked up my roll of foam and my mineral water and tiptoed into the hall. The class was about to start and the only free area on the floor was a patch drenched by sunshine. It was pouring in from the high arched window opposite. I took that patch. I may look pale and flabby but I can accept a challenge. I decided to brave that blazing light. I spread out the foam and started slowly unwinding and bending my body.
‘The rest of the class were already relaxing and warming up. I’d got to know some of them a bit, but they all looked strange that day. That was part of it. I need to make you see the room. Ruth was sitting beside me. She was elegantly aged and always poised. She was humming quietly under her breath, perhaps she was remembering her younger days as a singer. Her sharp bright eyes were closed, and her high cheekbones and arched brows were like a sculpture of beatific calm. For an English lady, her features were slightly Oriental, and that day she had a faraway look. As if she didn’t belong in an old primary school hall.
‘Opposite me, Caroline was purposefully flicking her fingers. Although she was eighty, she was perched in a lotus position, I don’t know how she does it. The lines on her face always seemed balanced halfway between pain and laughter, but that day I could see only the pain – as if she was tired of living. Next to her Geoff was lying flat on his back, his grey hair reaching down to his shoulders. He had a light wiry frame and a strong aquiline nose. His accent was rolling Cornish, but that day he looked to me like an ageing warrior on the North American plains. The image was disconcerting, but it wouldn’t go away.
‘When I started warming up, Ruth opened her eyes. And they all turned to look at me. As if they all knew something I didn’t.
‘“OK class, I see you’ve been getting limber. That’s good.” Our tutor Lee is sort of blond and thirty-something. She’s got a worldly manner, there’s a touch of a 1920s flapper about her. You could imagine her expounding theories about art and politics while drawing extravagantly on a long cigarette holder. In the present she’s turned to the joys of healthy living. Perhaps after other more expensive joys burned themselves out. She’s still resolutely flamboyant, but I suspect she’s both more sad and more solid than she lets on. “Let’s start in standing position now, if you can make it up onto your feet,” she went on. “OK now, a simple stretch to the ceiling.”
‘I heard Caroline sigh from the corner. In our varying and different ways, all of us reached towards the ceiling. Through the high arched windows the sun was soothing my face and body. Lee glanced over at me: “Is the sun in your eyes, Anthea?” She was always formal with me.
‘I told her “I like it.”
‘Heliotherapia. That’s what they call sun-bathing in Greece. “Sun-therapy.” As if it has healing powers. I wish I saw more of the sun in Greece, instead of the hours in libraries and in the back of museums pouring over trays of ancient pottery. And bones.’
‘The bones are an important part of your studies?’
‘Like I said, they were important to the ancient Greeks. They had a ritual significance in popular culture. Especially certain parts of the human body, like long bones and skulls. In the prehistoric period they were saved and stored. And the interest continued right through to the late classical period. I was reading only yesterday a legend from the 2nd century AD about the bones of Orpheus. They were kept in a special urn on a pillar near the town of Libethra…’
‘Orpheus was a singer, right?’
‘Yes. A mythical singer. There was a prophecy that when his bones were seen by the sun, the town would be destroyed.’
‘And?’
‘One day the pillar was knocked over and the urn broke and the sun did see the bones and then a flood destroyed the town. Pausanias tells the story in his Book Nine.’
Ren nodded. ‘I see.’
‘And my research suggested bones played a part in iatromantic activities. I hope I’m not bewildering you. Where was I? Yes, there was the tutor calling out “Reach, relax.”
‘I was coming up from bending over when I started staring at the tiny particles of dust making patterns in the sunbeam. They’re there all the time in the air, but you only see them when they’re lit up in a blade of light.
‘The tutor was leading us on through the movements: “Now, loves, let’s go into the Chi Gung routine. You know the sequence. Feel the
healing energy as you move. Up and round…” I don’t think anyone in the class was ever sure what Lee meant by healing energy, but we all followed her obediently. I was always vaguely aware that it felt good. That day particularly. The gestures seemed to sculpt the air, muscles and bones following the path of an ancient discipline. Through the forest of possible movements, these were the ones marked out over the centuries as leading to well-being. I remember I felt as if I was walking through a wood, the sun touching me through the branches.’
Anthea stopped speaking.
‘Is it OK me saying all this?’ she asked.
‘You can tell me anything that feels important.’
‘Your leaflet did say “Crisis Counselling”…’
‘That’s right.’
Anthea stared hard at her feet in the pink glittery socks, then resumed:
‘“Lie down on your mats,” Lee was saying. “Feel the energy around you. Gently close your eyes. Breathe deeply…” There was nothing unusual but I remember the heat on my face and body. Her voice rose and fell and then it was replaced by music. I drifted away. My body was tingling from the exercises. It was as if my cells wanted to tell a story of their own. Then a peculiar thing happened.
‘I had this picture in my mind that I was walking uphill through trees. I came towards a clearing. There was a small stone building. It was round. Nearby were some other buildings. A group of people standing by a fire. The light was grey, darkness starting to creep in.’ Anthea paused. ‘I don’t know how to describe what it was like.’
‘Were you dozing?’ asked Ren. ‘Was it a dream?’
‘No, no,’ said Anthea. ‘It was a strange experience, like being awake but not being where I was lying on the hall floor. I was walking towards the round building, but none of the people took any notice of me. They were looking past me, over my shoulder. When I got closer, I turned to look behind me to see what they were watching. Beyond the trees, beyond a plain, behind a jagged line of distant mountains, there was a red glow on the horizon and a golden semi-circle peering over the edge of the world. It was the last sun of the old day. I turned back. The men were huddled in cloaks, waiting. I heard a goat bleat. There was that twilight stillness, not a leaf moving.
‘Then there was a shout. I saw the goat. A chant started. From his cloak one man pulled a dagger and grasped its horns. The blow was swift and skilful. The animal didn’t make a sound but its body went limp under his hand. Blood spurted from its neck. Another man held a bowl to catch the blood. Then the knife went in again, slicing the animal down the middle. There was more blood. I couldn’t see what they were doing. Then one of them lifted something. It looked like a human skull.
‘I cried out, I couldn’t help myself. They looked in my direction again and this time it was as if they could see me. One of them pointed and said some words in a language I couldn’t understand. One of them started towards me, I think it was the one with the knife. I tried to run, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I couldn’t move. I turned to face the point of brilliance still there on the horizon. Sharp as a knife point. A blade of golden light reaching across the plain as the day died. I felt the panic rising in my body. I put my hand up to protect myself.
‘“Sun bothering you? I could draw the curtains.” Lee’s voice came suddenly from right beside me and my body juddered with shock. I opened my eyes and my hand came down with a thump onto the parquet flooring of the hall. The music had stopped. I said, “Oh, it’s fine. I was miles away.”
‘The tutor’s face looked dark against the brilliant void. It had no features. My neck felt hot but the rest of my body was shivering. I told myself this whole idea was a mistake. I should have stuck to studying. I knew relaxation could be tricky. Letting myself be vulnerable, unprotected. The minute the class ended, I rolled up my foam mattress and fled out of that building.
‘On the way back I bought myself two currant buns and wolfed them down. When I got home I was out of breath and I went straight to the kitchen and raided the fridge. I finished off a pot of humus and a whole carton of olives, to calm my nerves. I knocked over a jug and broke it. I couldn’t see properly because of a migraine coming on. I had to go and lie in bed with the curtains drawn for the rest of the day, while a sledgehammer hurled itself round inside my head.
‘Morton thought it was just a daydream. I didn’t tell anyone else about it. I was worried what people would think. That experience seemed so real. I kept wondering if it was like a flash from some other place or time.’
‘It made an impression on you,’ said Ren.
‘What do you think? Does it mean anything?’
‘I’m here to help you find out what it means to you.’
‘Morton thinks I’m cracking up.’
Ren asked ‘Have you known Morton long?’
‘I’ve known him for several years, but we haven’t been together long. He was around at the university library, I never took much notice. I used to pass him in the corridor sometimes, he sort of glided past with a canny smile. He’s slight and he’s not particularly handsome, but he looks like he knows a joke about the universe that he’s not telling.
‘Perhaps I should tell you about him. How we got drawn together, that’s another strange story. Would you like to hear?’
‘Anything that seems important to you to tell me,’ said Ren.
‘I don’t know what’s important and what isn’t. But when Morton and I got together, that was weird too. As if the afternoon had decided to make an intervention in my life.’ She stopped. ‘I feel embarrassed telling you all this.’
‘Stick with what you feel comfortable telling me.’
‘It’s OK. I’m just being daft. That day we were working in the library on desks next to each other. Just happened to be. I was reading about some inscriptions from Epidaurus. Morton didn’t look up or speak to me or anything, but I became more and more aware of him. As if someone had opened up a telephone line between our bodies without telling me. Or like he was putting out rays and they were wrapping themselves around me. I couldn’t concentrate. I started to sweat. When I looked at him, he didn’t seem aware of anything. He was just getting on with his work. It was hard to resist looking over his shoulder from where I was sitting. He was reading some old translation of Homer. It said it was by Private Shaw. That’s T E Lawrence, did you know? Lawrence of Arabia. I never knew he had translated the Odyssey. Morton looked up and saw me staring at his work and I tried to move my gaze on nonchalantly – as if it were just passing over him on a general survey of my surroundings.
‘I needed a change of air so I got up and headed for the stacks. That’s where they keep the journals, packed in rows in very close high rows of bookcases. I was looking for the right year of the Journal of Hellenic Studies when he appeared at the end of the stack. He had a funny look on his face.
‘“Are you looking for something?” he said.
‘We both knew he wasn’t talking about the Journal of Hellenic Studies.
‘Without thinking I said “Yes.”
‘I was wearing a loose silk blouse. He walked towards me, put his hand up the blouse and tweaked my nipple. I didn’t stop him. Next thing he put his book neatly on top of the row of journals, and started doing it with both hands. Teasing both nipples under my blouse. I was taken off guard. My legs nearly collapsed under me. But I didn’t pull away. Passion has always been my weakness.
‘Just then somebody came along the end of the stacks, checking which bookcase they needed. Morton let go of me and turned to the shelf as if he were scanning titles. As soon as the person had gone he stepped right into me, pushing me round against the shelf, and rubbing against me. He’s not very tall, we’re about the same size and our bodies dovetailed together. I could feel that he was excited. I couldn’t catch my breath.
‘Then we heard a group of people coming down discussing Sappho in whispers. He pulled away, picked up his book and walked off.
‘When I got back to my seat he was working away as if nothing
had happened. I tried to get back into reading about Epidaurus, but my body was playing tricks on me and I couldn’t concentrate. Eventually I turned to look at him. He lifted his head and winked. Then nothing for an hour and a half, until teatime. We went upstairs a few minutes apart and joined a group of archaeologists and classicists sitting around a coffee table. They were mostly PhD students. They all chatted away, but Morton and I were quiet. They didn’t know what had happened. He and I avoided looking at each other. There was a plate of Garibaldi biscuits on the table and I kept stuffing them in my mouth to stop myself feeling anxious. At the end of tea, we let everyone else gradually leave while we sat tight. The tea lady took our cups and the empty biscuit plate, closed down the hatch and went off. We were left sitting alone in silence. My mouth was dry.
‘Then he said, “How about it, then?” and we both burst out laughing.
‘That was how we got together. Not very romantic, but there you go.
‘He came round that evening. He was a bit surprised to find Bert at the supper table, he didn’t realize I had a child. He got on well with the other people in my house. There were four of us altogether then, plus Bert. Freddie, one of my housemates, he’s a musician, when he learnt that Morton was into Ian Dury, he started tugging on his earring like he always does when he gets agitated. He took Morton off to his room to look at his new guitar, and they ended up listening to Kilburn and the High Roads for ages. We could hear it all through the house. Then they moved on to Steel Eye Span. So Morton managed to miss the last bus home. The others had gone to bed and I’d put him on the sofa with a sleeping bag when Bert woke up asking for a drink of water and said his teddy wasn’t well and what was that man doing there?