A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  “He and Jessica might have, but I didn’t,” said Zoe. “And in fact, I’m incredibly grateful we’ve got you, Alice. I’m relying on you to make sense of what’s going on round here…”

  “Are you? No pressure, then,” said Alice, laughing.

  “… but right at this moment I could do without you bringing Macbeth into this, and making me feel bad about the raven as well.”

  “Sorry, Zoe. No more raven references, or Lady Macbeth quotes. I promise.”

  When her call to Alice was over, Zoe looked at her watch: at least half an hour before the first guest could be expected to arrive. The tramp was still preying on her mind. She knew Bernie and Vito had failed to find him, but she couldn’t get rid of the idea he might still be around, and they’d just missed him.

  She could spare a few minutes before returning to the office. So she hurried out, locking the door behind her, and whistled Vito to her side. Passing Bernie and Theo outside the barn door, clearing up, she went round the house through the conifers and up the drive towards the brow of the hill, heading towards the place she’d last seen him.

  As she walked, Zoe felt sticky: the atmosphere closed in. She stopped to pull off her smart jacket and slung it over her shoulder. The long-sleeved light cotton blouse she wore underneath was enough in this weather.

  She looked in vain for the tramp for several minutes. Perhaps he’d disappeared. Then, as she was about to give up, she spotted movement beneath the maples to the east, where the land sloped upwards. Vito tensed at her side. She turned and sharpened her focus. Yes. It was him all right. The long, tatty overcoat hung from his shoulders. It had probably been donated to him twenty years before. Beside her, a low rumble formed in Vito’s throat. She glanced down at him. His body was on full alert, his eyes fixed on the tramp.

  She and the man moved towards each other. His face was swarthy, or covered with dirt.

  “Hello again,” she said. There was no point in evading the issue. “Someone just threw a stone through our barn window. Do you know anything about it?”

  He stuck out his face, arched his neck and hissed at her. She took two paces back from him.

  “Please,” she said, “I’m not accusing you. Just wondered if you saw anything.”

  He gave a low, throaty growl. She tensed.

  “You won’t do yourself any good hanging around here. Why not come down to the house and let us help you instead? We’ll give you some food; and a shower; and some clean clothes.”

  The vagrant threw her a look of contempt.

  Summoning all her self-restraint, she tried again. “Haven’t got any sandwiches, or I’d give them to you.”

  She felt in her pocket, thinking she might have something to offer him, to make him trust her. She found an unopened tube of mints and held them out to him. Then Vito snarled. At once, the man spun round and plunged back into the thicket.

  “Oh, Vito,” she said. “I was trying to make him trust me. If he did throw the stone through the window, it would at least be good to know who did it. Come on. Let’s go back. We need to greet the new guests.” She headed down the drive at a brisk pace.

  But as she walked, she speculated about the vagrant. Her fingers curled. It seemed likely that he spent his nights under the cover of the trees. Perhaps he had a bush bivouac there. But if he did, there’d be a campfire. They’d see smoke rising. And anyway, Bernie would surely have found it.

  Casting aside all thoughts of the vagrant for the time being, she focused instead on meeting the new guests.

  Taking out her keys at eight o’clock on Monday morning, Zoe was about to unlock the reception door, when she saw Alice hurrying across the courtyard towards her from the north. The first thing she noticed about her was the expression on her face; flared nostrils and clenched teeth.

  Zoe felt an uneasy stirring in her stomach.

  “You OK, Alice?” she asked as Alice drew near.

  “Hi, yes.” Alice gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Did I look as if I’ve seen another ghost? Not quite. No, it was Natasha. Just had a weird conversation with her.”

  Zoe frowned. “What about?”

  “I’d sooner not say,” replied Alice, as they both went into the office. “It was bad enough me putting the frighteners on you yesterday afternoon, with my talk of ravens and the Bard’s play.”

  Zoe threw her a quizzical glance.

  “On the subject of Natasha,” she said, “at breakfast I overheard James chatting to Heidi. She was full of Natasha and her healing power. What a perfect introduction to this week’s course for our new guests. It’s billed as ‘icon painting, calligraphy and poetry’. I’m worried about what our three guests from last week will be telling them. The new lot could get the idea that we’ve laid on a miracle healer for them as well.”

  “And what about you, Zoe?” said Alice, dumping her bag down by her desk, taking her jacket off, and hanging it on the back of her chair. “What do you believe?”

  “I don’t know,” said Zoe.

  Their gaze met.

  “OK,” said Alice. “What if she is actually healing people?”

  “Then I want to know by what power she’s doing it,” Zoe said. Her muscles tensed.

  Alice sat down at her desk and fired up her computer. But Zoe still remained standing.

  “What I feel”, began Alice, “is that those guests were too willing to believe Natasha is good.”

  The door opened and James came in.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “Lovely fresh morning, isn’t it?”

  Zoe gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  “And what a delightful group of new guests you have,” he remarked.

  “Yes, James,” she replied.

  He turned to Alice.

  “I understand from Natasha that you played the Scottish Lady not long ago,” he remarked.

  Alice nodded.

  “Hmmm,” said James. “Why are you out of work, Alice? Did someone say the name of ‘that play’ inside the theatre?”

  “It was in a deconsecrated church, not a theatre, James,” she replied. “And anyway, the curse only operates during the play’s run.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” he smiled.

  Alice wore a closed expression and didn’t respond.

  James swung back to Zoe again.

  “Got a bit of a surprise last night,” he added. “I was going through your brochure in detail and saw that your chair of trustees is Jessica Leroy. Curious coincidence, but I believe I’ve met her before, in the past.”

  “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure. Years ago, it was; in Edinburgh; if she’s the same person, of course.”

  “Might be,” said Zoe. “Jessica was born and brought up in Northumberland.”

  “Then she may well have regularly visited Edinburgh. She could be the same person.”

  “You’ll have the chance to find out later, if you’re lucky,” replied Zoe, seating herself at her desk. “Jessica plans to visit us today. However, she’s coming to talk to the staff, not to go into any workshops.”

  James shot her a glance. She guessed that he planned to lay claim to Jessica’s attention at the first opportunity. She pursed her lips as she remembered his version of ‘being helpful’ at the accident the day before.

  “I was in rep,” continued James. “We met at a party; brilliant young woman; only seventeen at the time – doing her A levels.”

  Zoe wondered whether the young Jessica had had a crush on him. She felt sick thinking about it.

  “That’s fascinating, James,” she said. “I expect you’ll manage a quick chat with her.”

  She waited. So did he.

  “Anything further you wanted help with?” she asked.

  “Ah,” he said, perching himself on a corner of Zoe’s desk, “perhaps it’s not so much a question of you helping me, as me helping you. After yesterday’s upsetting events, I felt a strong urge to lend my support.”

  He crossed one leg over the other and adj
usted the knees of his trousers. Zoe noticed the rich burnished leather of his high-quality shoes. She’d grown to loathe his smooth style and sharp dress sense; to her, it merely provided him with the superficial gloss that covered up the undercurrent of manipulation and arrogance.

  “As you know,” he continued, “I’m a professional actor. So I’ve got what it takes to deal with people – I’m gregarious, sociable… I can look after your guests, handle their queries, help with workshops and so on.”

  “No need,” said Zoe. “We have Alice with all those skills too.”

  “Oh, of course,” he said with a small, deprecating cough. He fixed his eye upon the bookings secretary.

  “Zoe and I manage very well,” said Alice. “Why not take a stroll around the grounds and read all the poetry that’s carved onto plaques hanging from the trees?”

  James laughed. “I’ve already done that, Alice.” He turned back to Zoe. “Do allow me to help in the office this morning.”

  Zoe decided to call his bluff.

  “Very well, then. You can go and do the washing-up.”

  James chuckled. “A smart reply,” he smiled.

  Zoe changed the subject.

  “How long have you and Natasha known each other? How did you first meet?”

  “She and her sister have been friends of mine for a few years now.” He levelled his gaze upon her. Then he leaned forward, bringing his face much closer to hers. As he did so, the door opened and Theo walked in. James slipped off the corner of Zoe’s desk.

  “Hello, James,” said Theo.

  “Good to see you, Theo. Just having a little chat about Natasha,” said James.

  “It seems she’s on everyone’s mind at the moment,” said Theo.

  James abruptly shifted the topic. “You’ve got an impressive list of trustees. Seven of them, I see. I look forward to meeting your chairperson, Jessica Leroy. I believe we’ve met before in the past.”

  Theo inclined his head in acknowledgement of this. Zoe looked down at her interlaced clenched fingers. James reached into his pocket, brought out his keyring, a silver pentagram holding an assortment of keys, and began weighing it in his palm.

  Zoe relaxed. It looked to her as if he planned to take himself off for a scenic drive – perhaps with Natasha – and give them a brief respite from his company. Outside, the first drops of rain began to fall.

  “Ah, the rain,” said James. “It promised so bright and fair just half an hour ago. Not to be deterred, of course. We’re English.”

  He got up and went over to the door.

  “So enjoyed my chat with you. I’ll go and see what Natasha’s doing. Catch up with you later.” And he opened the door and stepped out into the shower of rain.

  His last words reminded Zoe she hadn’t yet had a chance to probe his relationship with Natasha. But as she turned to look at Alice again she was startled by the expression on her face.

  “What is it, Alice?”

  “Did you see?” asked Alice.

  “See what?” said Zoe.

  “The way he moved in on you as if about to speak, then shot back as soon as Theo entered.”

  “Well, yes,” said Zoe.

  “He’s not just a creep. He’s dangerous,” said Alice.

  Zoe and Theo both stared at her.

  “What do you mean?” asked Zoe.

  “I sense it,” Alice replied. “On the surface he’s all charm. But you look in those eyes. And they tell a different story: menacing; mocking; insincere. He’s building up to something, for sure. And it isn’t good.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At eleven o’clock that morning, Zoe went to the art studio. Jessica was due to arrive at midday and Zoe needed to check on the supply of art materials, tidy up, and wipe down all the tables. The routine activity might settle her thoughts; for Alice’s warning preyed on her mind.

  A damp mist now hung about the trees, lending the scene a dark, fairy-tale appearance. The first character who came into her mind was the Big Bad Wolf. And then she thought of the central message of those dark tales:

  Be warned. There are monsters out there. Beware of strangers.

  Beware the wolves of the wood.

  The atmosphere felt moist and oppressive. Zoe glanced up. Sullen clouds hung low. The light shower had stopped, but there’d be a downpour later on. Beyond the east wall of the barn, she saw a few guests taking a stroll among the conifers, punctuated by long pauses to contemplate the lines of poetry carved into wooden plaques on the trees. They’d now be taking the reflective half-hour that Theo incorporated into the morning’s workshop. A couple of guests meditated by the sculpture fountain in the centre of the courtyard. Two bronze cupped hands received a stream of water poured from a stoneware jug. Zoe smiled at the guests as she passed by and turned towards the studio door.

  As soon as she entered the studio, she saw James in there with Jessica, whom Zoe had not even realised had arrived yet. They sat in the opposite corner together, beside the artists’ easels.

  Jessica was a Birmingham businesswoman and visited the centre more often than any of the other trustees, always giving at least a day’s notice. Zoe had been expecting her to call in at reception on arrival. It seemed, though, just as Zoe had expected, that James had waylaid her, keen to renew his former acquaintance in Edinburgh. Both turned and saw Zoe as she entered.

  “Morning, Zoe,” said Jessica, rising to her feet. She was a tall, slim woman with glossy dark-brown hair, who favoured French-navy tailored suits. “I meant to call into the office as soon as I arrived but on the way across the courtyard I had a huge surprise – I met James. You know, we’ve met before?”

  “Yes, James did mention it to me,” said Zoe, moving forward to join them.

  “Well, Jessica,” said James, also getting up, “this has been an enormous pleasure.”

  “Yes, who’d have thought you and I would meet up again after so many years?” said Jessica.

  “Yes, incredible. You were still at school, weren’t you? And very bright; you impressed me even then. And here you are now, chair of trustees for this centre… and perfectly suited to the role.”

  “Thank you, James,” smiled Jessica.

  “I’m a good judge of character. I know my time here’s limited, but if there’s any way I can help…”

  “That’s a kind thought, James,” said Jessica, “but I assure you there’s no need. We have an excellent team. Enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you and Natasha need, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She faced Zoe. “I’ll drop in on the office for a chat with you, Zoe, in half an hour. I’d like to have a word with Theo next, and then Bernie.”

  “Fine,” said Zoe. “I’ll just do some sorting out and tidying up in here.”

  “I’ll be off,” said James. “See you both later.” As James was about to pass Zoe, he stopped and locked eyes with her. She felt angry and out of control. With a desperate effort to hold her feelings in check, she walked away from him.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, she went to unlock the cupboard where they stored the finished artworks and ceramics, and checked that everything was in good order. Judging that James would at this stage be well out of the way, she went back out again and crossed the courtyard, which was, as she’d anticipated, now empty of people.

  Before she reached the office door, however, the musical lilt of a Welsh accent intervened behind her. “Zoe, sorry to hijack you… but you look troubled.”

  “Griff,” said Zoe, twisting to face him. Her heart often lifted, as it did now, when she looked at their in-house Welsh poet, as she fondly thought of him.

  “It’s out of character for you to look so glum,” he said.

  “Not so much now I’m chatting to you, Griff,” she smiled.

  Griff had a playful, fluid personality, sometimes cheerful, sometimes wistful. He didn’t have a girlfriend, as far as Zoe knew, though she’d seen him chatting and laughing with Alice more than a few times; which wouldn’t be much help to him, Zoe reflected, i
f Alice’s agent rang and said she’d got her an audition in London, and Alice landed the part and had to go off filming at the other end of the country for six months. Still, she persuaded herself, it was no concern of hers, although she liked both Griff and Alice very much.

  “You know, Griff,” she said, “we’re so lucky to have you here.”

  He held his hands wide. “The pleasure’s all mine, Zoe. I love the job. It’s fantastic when people come to us, sick and run-down, and whilst here they make some kind of breakthrough and release whatever it was that blocked their healing. It’s great that I can be part of that, teaching creative writing.”

  “Which, as I know from your own accounts,” said Zoe, “sometimes involves sitting on beds with tearful authors counselling them about their novels, late into the night.”

  “True,” he said. “I love the chance to work with people who’re despondent and discouraged, knowing I can help them believe in themselves again. And I get the chance to write lots of poetry too: paradise!”

  “That’s awesome, Griff.”

  “So, why were you looking so worried when I met you just now?”

  “Sorry Griff. It’s just I really don’t like James, and I feel bad about it, as he’s a guest. And as for Natasha, I don’t know what to make of her.”

  Griff laughed. “Plenty of other people here know what to make of her,” he said. “They love her.”

  “Already?” she said, her eyes widening. “And what do you think?”

  “I think she’s lovely. When you’re talking to her she makes you feel like you’re the only other person in the room. And she has such beautiful eyes – that amazing deep blue.”

  Zoe bit her lip. “Well, it’s clear you’re a fan.” She gave him a wry smile. Doubts began to needle her. Perhaps Natasha had a dual personality. But she herself only saw Natasha differently from Griff and the others because she trusted Alice’s instincts. Zoe refused to believe Alice had been wrong about Natasha. But in that case, she couldn’t understand how Natasha had managed so easily to deceive Griff and several guests.

  “I’ve seen the way Natasha talks to the others, too,” went on Griff. “People open up to her very quickly. Guests have told me they feel they can share all their problems – not just physical but emotional. She has this special way – people believe she heals them by simply talking to them.”