A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  Alice chuckled.

  “It’s not funny, but right now, that’s the least of my problems,” she said.

  “Suppose so. The important thing is to stay alive and get out of here. But Alice, can we find a way to escape?”

  Alice shone her torch beam upwards. “See up there?”

  Zoe came to join her. “Yes,” she exclaimed, “a window that hasn’t been boarded up; but very high and very small.”

  She went across to the wall, stretched herself against it, holding her arms high above her head and standing on tiptoe.

  “How on earth would we reach it?” She fell back again, with a groan. “We couldn’t squeeze out of it, either. It’s tiny. But there is a skylight.”

  “Yes,” said Alice. “In theory, that could be our escape route. But how? No furniture to climb on.”

  They looked at each other in the torchlight. Zoe clenched her fists to stop herself crying.

  “What have you and Poppy been doing with yourselves all this while?”

  “Playing games, reading stories.”

  “But what does James want with you both? And me?”

  “God knows.” Alice spread her hands.

  Zoe’s stomach muscles went into spasm. She shuddered and swallowed several times.

  Then she glanced at Poppy again. The child was so calm. It seemed unnatural to Zoe. Zoe shook her head. “You two have kept each other sane,” she remarked.

  Alice looked at Poppy with a rueful smile. “Yes. I reckon we have,” she said.

  Zoe could well understand how a distant observer might take Poppy for a ghost child. She seemed aloof. Perhaps that was understandable, with what she had been through.

  “The police are searching for you, Alice. Your mother’s distraught. As to little Poppy – if she is James and Natasha’s own child, who’d search for her?”

  Alice spread her hands, palms uppermost. “Your guess is as good as mine. But at least Theo should have the police searching for you before the night’s out, Zoe.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Zoe. They both gazed at each other, Alice’s expression more than a little puzzled.

  “Shine your torch onto my watch, Alice.”

  Alice did so.

  “Eight thirty. James kidnapped me an hour and a half ago. We can’t be very far from the centre here.”

  Then she looked at Poppy again. The child remained still and seemed to be almost in a trancelike state.

  Alice stirred.

  “Not a shack,” she said. “Not a soundproof cellar behind several sets of security doors. Not a torture chamber in a military detention centre. None of those things. The one thing it has in common with them is no possible means of communication with the outside world – except when James and Natasha return. We’ve both seen enough of that pair to know they’re highly cunning. And there’s no way we can find out what they’re up to or why they’ve done this to us, until they come back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “I’d hate to think you and I had misunderstood each other, Theo,” said James the following morning at breakfast. “Just because the trustees have asked you to step down from the manager’s role, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t continue to lead workshops this next week, when we’ll need all the help we can get. I assure you I don’t accept the idea that because you’re ill, the Celtic Knot cannot use you.”

  “I’m not ill,” said Theo.

  James gave a low chuckle. “Oh no, not now; perhaps a better word would be vulnerable.”

  “Does that surprise you?” retorted Theo. “My wife’s missing. All I care about right now is getting her back again.”

  “Of course,” murmured James in a soothing tone of voice. “We’re all concerned about her, Theo. But at the same time we also need to think about the new guests who’re due to arrive here this afternoon.”

  “And that’s another problem,” said Theo. “If Zoe doesn’t return then I believe we should cancel this week’s course.”

  James shook his head. “Out of the question,” he said. “We must carry on as normal. It’s no good putting the centre at risk, for the sake of…”

  He stopped.

  “Yes, James, for the sake of what?” enquired Theo.

  “Nothing. Hate to sound callous. Naturally, you feel anxious.”

  Theo felt like hitting him. However, he kept a grip on himself.

  “Anxious is an understatement,” said Theo.

  James nodded.

  “I know this is a stressful time for you, Theo, but be sure the police will do all they can. They’re sophisticated these days.”

  “Maybe, but not so sophisticated they’ve been able to turn up anything on Alice, after five days and nights of no news.”

  “True. Nevertheless, I feel sure they’ll find out what’s happened to Zoe. But we must get on. There’s so much to do to prepare for the guests. I’ll go over to the barn and set up for this evening’s welcome. I have Natasha’s action list. You’d be amazed how thorough she is. She thinks of everything. And so she should, since she’ll be leading tonight.”

  Alice sat with her head in her hands.

  Then she looked up. “I’d love to know what James is doing right now.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some men keep their sex slaves like this.”

  “Don’t, Alice.” Zoe recoiled. “I’d kill him. I promise you. I would.”

  “How?” asked Alice. “There’s nothing here to hurt him, or at least threaten him with. What would you use? Blunt knives and forks? Plates or a can opener? There are plenty of candles and matches, though, and this torch.”

  “Well,” said Zoe, “the torch could be a start, or a lighted candle.” She paced up and down the room for a minute, then spun, and said, “No sharp knives?”

  Alice shook her head.

  “Or rope?”

  “You kidding?”

  Zoe relapsed into silence. She continued walking to and fro then went over to Poppy to see how she was doing.

  The child was nestled into a pile of blankets in the corner, looking through a picture book by the light of the torch. Zoe crouched down beside her and glanced through some of the books. She looked at Poppy but got no response. The child kept her eyes fixed on the book.

  Zoe stood up again and crossed the room to where Alice stood, arms folded, leaning against the wall.

  “Another thing,” said Alice in a low voice. “I think James has got this place bugged.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I reckon it’s like the Big Brother House. He’s got CCTV cameras in here. He’s listening in on us and watching us right now, back at the Celtic Knot.”

  “Oh, come on Alice.”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  Zoe felt a jolt in her stomach at these words.

  “How would you know? Haven’t seen any cameras, have you?”

  Zoe grabbed the torch and shone it all around the walls, up to the ceiling, and along the coving, then down again to the floor.

  “No,” Alice admitted. “But I wouldn’t put anything past James.”

  Zoe shuddered and hugged her arms round herself.

  “I can imagine him, back at the centre, right now,” went on Alice. “He’s talking to Theo; making out he hasn’t the slightest idea what’s happened to us.”

  “But how much longer can we live like this?” cried Zoe tearfully. “No exercise, no fresh air. And if not for that tiny window, the skylight, and the candles, we’d be in total darkness. And it’s cold. This room, I suppose, is meant to be a sitting room – or would be, if it was furnished. We have three rooms: this one, plus the kitchen; then the toilet and shower. And nothing in the room for us to sit or lie on but a few blankets. That door must lead to other rooms, but it’s locked.”

  “And no mobiles,” said Alice. “We’re really cut off. And James could be watching our every move; and listening to us. I’m tired now. Maybe it is only five o’clock. But I’m going to lie down.” She stretched out on a blanket in a corner, and t
hey both fell silent.

  Icy fingers clawed at Zoe’s solar plexus. She’d been here one night now, with Alice and Poppy, and today was Sunday. Poppy had put her book aside and had nestled into her pile of blankets, her eyes closed. This was unreal and weird. Despite Alice and Poppy’s companionship, Zoe felt so alone. But Alice seemed to have come to terms with the bizarre situation, to a certain extent, during the time she’d been here.

  Zoe hoped fervently that the police would track them down. And that James and Natasha would be unmasked and caught. Then she remembered her conversation with Alice about ropes and knives. Yes, it would be good to have a weapon by her, in case James returned. She imagined herself bashing James over the head with the torch. Though not big, it still might be used on him to good effect.

  So she made her way into the kitchen, directing the torch beam ahead of her and around the shelves and into the cupboards, looking for something suitable to defend them all with. All she could come up with was, as Alice had suggested, a can opener. She took it back with her to the corner she’d chosen, and placed it under the pile of blankets.

  She wondered whether James had the capacity to speak to them through an intercom. She feared that his voice might boom out without warning, giving instructions, or threatening them with physical or sexual abuse when he arrived.

  She curled up on her own pile of blankets and tried to rest; but was instead tortured by regretful thoughts. She doubted that Theo would ever forgive her, even if she survived this. And she longed to know what he was doing now. Tears poured from her eyes; she hardly dared believe she would ever see him again.

  Sunday afternoon passed for Theo and the centre staff with no further news of Alice or Zoe. The new guests arrived, and every effort was made to welcome them. At James’s insistence, no mention was made of the crisis the centre was going through. Natasha led the welcome session in the barn, and many of the guests had already fallen under her spell by the time it finished. The evening passed, and the night.

  Monday morning brought no further news about Alice or Zoe, though Carol, the Missing Persons Co-ordinator, rang Theo and visited him in the office later to introduce herself and offer every possible support. But the assurance that the police were taking the disappearance of the two girls seriously only served to stir up Theo’s worst fears.

  “This is such a nightmare,” he said as he slumped at Zoe’s desk in the office, ten minutes after Carol had gone. James squeezed his shoulder. Vito lay at Theo’s feet, whimpering, pawing his leg, looking up at him with doleful eyes. “It feels wrong, and unnatural, not to tell the guests what’s going on.”

  “I disagree,” said James. “There’s no point disturbing them. Zoe may even turn up again later today, for all we know.”

  At this Theo buried his head in his hands. “If Zoe has gone off, of her own free will, how could she torture me like this?” he asked. “I only need one word – just to know where Zoe is, and that she’s all right.”

  “Yes, yes,” said James. “Everything will work out for the best, I’m sure it will.”

  “I don’t know,” said Theo. “I’m afraid of what she could be suffering right now; whether I’ll ever see her again. Whether she’s been murdered and raped; whether her body will ever be found; whether I’ll ever get the body back so I can hold a funeral. I’ve tried to pray but I can’t. This is beyond prayer.”

  “Come, come,” said James. “Stop this negative talk, Theo.”

  Bernie and Griff were both supporting Theo as well as they could, and he felt confident of their genuine sympathy and concern. James’s attitude, though, struck a false note.

  “I felt terrible when I rang Zoe’s sister yesterday”, said Theo, “and told her there’s nothing she can do…”

  “Don’t you worry about her,” said James. “She’ll cope.”

  “How do you know?”

  James cleared his throat. “Good point. I don’t. Forget I said it.”

  Theo threw him a sharp glance.

  “We all want Zoe to be safe,” said James. “Have faith. Now, do you feel strong enough to take the workshop this morning?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Theo, and left the office.

  Theo’s workshop took place in the barn half an hour later. Griff sat alongside him, in case he needed moral support. Theo had no idea where Natasha was. He caught Griff’s attention and locked eyes with him. Griff smiled at him then Theo swept his glance over the other guests, and said, “My workshop is about different ways to see the journeys of our lives. We’re going to use a wide variety of art materials. There are plenty of items you may choose from to make a collage if you wish. It’s up to you. To give you some ideas, you’ll find at each of the four corners of this meeting space, an arrangement of objects. In a moment, I’ll invite you to visit each one.”

  When the time came, they dispersed to visit the four stations. The guests went to the south corner where rough reddish-brown sand had been scattered over the floor, glass beads arranged among it, to resemble footsteps in the desert.

  “You can raise the curtain on your life journey and get straight on with it,” Theo said.

  Then he led them to the west where they found a white lantern placed on a silver dish, glass beads scattered in a trail leading out from the candle.

  “Where’s the light in our journey?” asked Theo. “Who have we met along the path; who’s helped us see? Have we had moments of clarity and vision? When? And what was going on for us at the time?”

  They all went to the east and found rich Indian fabrics, silk in jewel-like colours which had been spread out on the floor. Strong spice candles burned. A tree was planted in a terracotta pot to represent a family tree. A water melon had been hacked in two, seeming to symbolise cruelty and violence.

  “Sometimes,” said Theo, “we may want to find a way to express the worst moments of our lives.”

  Then the guests went to the north. An earthy, organic smell issued from this corner; it came from a pile of straw impregnated with animal odours. There was also an Income Tax Return form.

  “This corner represents that which is crude, filthy, painful,” said Theo. “This corner speaks of heartbreak.”

  Then he broke down. He bent over, as sobs possessed him. Some of the guests hung back in consternation and dismay; others drew close, laying hands on him, and offering words of comfort. Meanwhile, Griff found himself with no alternative but to explain to them what had happened to Zoe, and why Theo was so upset.

  “Oh, Theo, that’s terrible.”

  “You poor thing; if only we’d known before…”

  “I’m sure Zoe will soon be found safe, Theo.”

  Theo crouched on the floor, his shoulders heaving.

  His own self-doubt elbowed the abduction scenario aside. He was convinced Zoe had intentionally left him. They’d fought a number of times. Theo fully expected that she’d lost all trust in him. He blamed himself for being too harsh and judgmental with her. He felt wretched for having moralised at her, and lectured her when she was trying to help, doing the best she could. And now he’d lost her.

  Then he became aware of Natasha kneeling beside him. She must have entered the barn in the last few minutes, without his knowledge. She placed one hand on Theo’s head, and the other on his heart. He shuddered.

  “No, Natasha,” he said. “Leave me alone. I didn’t ask for your help.”

  Natasha dropped her hands at once and stood up. Theo, too, quickly rose to his feet. He noticed that the guests had all now fanned out, and were gazing at Natasha with awed expressions.

  “Don’t touch me, please, Natasha,” he said.

  “Why not, Theo?” she asked. “I can heal your pain.”

  “I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he replied.

  Her eyes burned.

  “Very well, Theo,” she said; and an icy sensation swept through Theo’s entire body.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next morning, Tuesday, brought with it a fine miasma of rain, which gather
ed strength throughout the middle of the day, fading out later in the afternoon, then hanging, uncertain, in the air. It was followed by an uncanny stillness.

  Alice had now been missing for seven nights and Zoe for three. James had employed two new temporary staff from an agency in Cheltenham, one to act as administrator and the other as a secretary and domestic assistant. Three guests had already left because they felt uncomfortable about staying at the centre whilst Theo was in the midst of a personal tragedy. They’d resisted James’s attempts to make them change their minds.

  James had rationalised this to Jessica.

  “With all this uncertainty, it’s inevitable some will want to move on.”

  He promised that his planned publicity drive would bring in new guests, who’d be coming into a reorganised centre. Meanwhile, the police had still failed to turn up any leads at all in the search for Alice and Zoe.

  While all this was going on, Natasha strengthened her hold on the remaining guests. She was now officially known as the ‘creative director’, and continued to gather guests around her, listening to them, counselling them, and laying healing hands upon them. But when questioned, she had no insights to offer as to where Zoe and Alice might be.

  That afternoon, James told Theo he and Natasha were meeting Jessica in Cirencester. Theo called the remaining guests into the sitting room in the farmhouse. He played a DVD of Celtic music for flute and harp, and candles were lit for Zoe and for Alice, and everyone meditated. Theo explained that those who wished to could pray.

  “Prayers? Whoever’s taken the girls should be castrated,” said one guest.

  “Locked up for life,” added another. “Bring back hanging,” added a third.Theo couldn’t speak.

  Bernie cleared his throat and stood up. “I know we all have different angles on this. I intend to pray for whoever might be behind Alice and Zoe’s disappearance, whether that’s one, or more than one person. We could pray for a change of heart over what they’ve done; that they might let Zoe and Alice go. And turn themselves in to the police.”

  Amidst a mixed response, some murmurs of sympathy and not a few expressions of scepticism, they all fell into silent meditation.