Death at Burwell Farm

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Isn’t it a good thing your husband has such regular habits?’ said Serena with a mischievous smile as, having checked the final details, they began putting their papers away.

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ Again, they exchanged glances of mutual understanding. Edith stood up, saying, ‘You lock up here and I’ll go and see about supper – oh, and by the way, make me a new one of these, will you?’ She removed the circlet from her head and dumped it in the waste bin. ‘This one’s getting distinctly tatty – I’d hate any of the initiates to see it close to.’

  A quarter of an hour after his wife and stepdaughter returned to their private quarters and were to all intents and purposes engaged in purely domestic functions, Percy Burrell rejoined them in the room which had been the kitchen of the original farmhouse and now served as their dining and living room as well. He was a tall, lean figure with hollow cheeks and brooding, deep-set eyes and he was still clad in the monkish robe and sandals that he wore during the day.

  ‘Are you both well and in tune with the Cosmos, my dears?’ he enquired in a slightly abstracted manner as he sipped his regular preprandial glass of cider vinegar and water, in which they perforce joined him with apparent relish. He naively believed Serena and Edith shared his teetotal as well as his vegetarian convictions. As it happened, their eating habits presented no problems; from purely financial constraints, Edith had brought her daughter up on a meatless diet and they had so far managed to keep their occasional tipple a secret.

  Percy took as little part as possible in the running of the business, preferring to leave practical matters in the capable hands of his wife and stepdaughter. He was a man totally absorbed in and dedicated to the purpose for which he sincerely believed he had been sent into the world, namely to guide as many people as possible along the path to the state of enlightenment which he called the Unlimited. If he had had his way, he would have spread his message freely without thought of gain and he had taken a personal vow of celibacy, but he had met Edith almost immediately on his return from his wanderings in the East and after a long period of abstinence from the pleasures of the flesh had found her charms irresistible. During one of their nights of passion, prompted by an overweening sense of guilt at his weakness, he poured into her sympathetic and calculating ear his desire to spread enlightenment to all mankind. He was at heart a simple soul; despite his initial misgivings about accepting money for the gift that he passionately wished to share without worldly reward, tributes from delighted ‘initiates’ and a growing band of members of the Circle of Lifelong Initiation soon convinced him that his message was being dissipated far and wide and that his consent, reluctantly given, to ‘going commercial’ had been the right one. Since Edith and Serena took all the sordid business side of things off his shoulders he had nothing to do but devote all his waking hours to spreading his gospel and, in his spare time, surrendering his mind to the boundless bliss of the Unlimited.

  Percy Burrell was a fulfilled and happy man.

  Fourteen

  ‘So you’re still determined to go ahead with this—’ Jim Castle began, then broke off as Sukey reacted to his uncharacteristically belligerent attitude with a sharp look that combined amusement and provocativeness and had him momentarily wrong-footed.

  ‘Crazy scheme? Wilful disregard of your feelings?’ she taunted him. ‘Go on, say it, you’re just miffed because DCI Lord approves of what I’m planning to do.’

  ‘I didn’t say he approves, he just expressed some doubts about quacks meddling with the minds of vulnerable people—’

  ‘—and that even though there was no evidence of wrongdoing at RYCE, there’d be no harm in someone carrying out a little quiet investigation. That sounds like approval to me.’

  ‘He specifically ruled out an investigation. All he said was—’

  ‘That I, being of eminently sound mind and far from vulnerable, would be the ideal person to do a spot of nosing around,’ Sukey interrupted with an air of triumph as once again he found himself on the defensive.

  ‘Well, more or less,’ he said reluctantly. ‘All the same, I’m not happy about it and I wish you’d drop the whole thing.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting that I’m likely to be influenced by some weird system of mind games, are you?’

  ‘I didn’t say that, but you never know what goes on there—’

  ‘Which is precisely the reason why I’m interested. I really can’t understand why—’

  As if she had not spoken, Jim continued in the same hectoring tone. ‘Some of these people are up to all sorts of tricks to make something important to read, remember?’ He jabbed a finger at the brochure. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to give it anything but my undivided attention.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Their eyes met and they broke into spontaneous laughter. Thankful that the conflict was over, Sukey put potatoes to bake in the oven and took an assortment of cold meats and salad ingredients from the refrigerator before sitting down with her glass of wine. ‘There are four of us this evening,’ she informed him. ‘Fergus has invited Anita.’

  There was no reply. Jim was already absorbed in a study of the RYCE brochure.

  ‘Well, what do you make of it?’ Sukey asked.

  The pair were temporarily alone in the sitting room after the evening meal. Anita and Fergus were in the kitchen, the former having volunteered to do the washing-up. In normal circumstances this would have occasioned a considerable amount of lively and uninhibited chatter, but this time their abnormally muted voices were barely audible through the closed door. Since Sukey had earlier impressed on Fergus the need to avoid any reference whatsoever in Jim’s presence to the subject of her impending attendance at RYCE, she guessed that they were speculating on the possible outcome.

  Jim thought for a moment or two before replying to her question. At length he said, ‘In my opinion, the people running this place are either eccentrics or out-and-out charlatans – probably both. I can understand sad, lonely or inadequate people going for this kind of thing and I suppose if they get comfort from it then Freya and Xavier, as they call themselves, could be said to be doing some good.’ He gave a sardonic chuckle. ‘Where on earth did they dream up those names, I wonder? I can see that Percy and Edith don’t exactly fit in with grand visions of the mystery of the cosmos, but—’

  ‘I’ve looked into that. Freya is unusual, but not all that uncommon – remember Freya Stark, the travel writer? It’s the name of a Norse goddess of love, according to a dictionary of first names I found in the library.’

  ‘What about Xavier? Wasn’t he some saint or other?’

  ‘Yes, Spanish, seventeenth century I think. It’s a Basque word meaning “new house”.’

  ‘I suppose it’s the nearest he could get to the new state of mind he’s promising his so-called initiates.’ Jim picked up the brochure, opened it and studied the portraits inside the front cover. ‘Love in a new house, eh? They’re like something left over from the days of flower-power, him with his beard and brooding eyes looking half-stoned, Freya with that daisy-chain on her head and Serena looking as if she’d be more at home at the Stowe horse fair.’

  Sukey giggled. ‘I have a notion that you don’t take them very seriously.’

  ‘I have to admit that I haven’t found anything disturbing in what’s written in here. Reading between the lines, I suspect that they’re peddling some fairly well-known principles like auto-suggestion dressed up in a load of fancy new language.’

  ‘That’s been my impression.’

  ‘Well, just keep your feet on the ground and your eyes open while you’re there, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s why I’m going, remember?’

  Six people sat self-consciously on low, cushioned chairs arranged in a horseshoe, sipping a herbal concoction served in fragile porcelain cups from a round brass tray offered to each in turn by Serena, barefoot and clad in a long, colourful garment similar to the one she had been wearing when Sukey first saw her. Apart from the single word ‘We
lcome’ with which she had greeted them as they entered, escorted by a young blonde woman who introduced herself as Josie and checked their paperwork on arrival, she maintained a calm, aloof silence, directing them to their seats solely by gesture and acknowledging the polite thanks of each recipient with a brief smile and a nod of her dark head as she moved among them with her tray. Covertly watching her, Sukey noted that she made eye contact with everyone; when it came to her own turn she was subjected to a gaze of such intensity that she experienced an unexpected tingle of gooseflesh. Just part of the technique, she told herself as she sipped at the contents of her cup, which tasted like camomile tea with some additional, slightly scented ingredient.

  Sukey and Jennifer had been the last to arrive and there had been no opportunity for contact with the four other members of the group, three men and one woman. It was impossible to assess their ages in the subdued light from several lamps dotted around the walls, diffused by parchment shades decorated with outlines of what were evidently intended to suggest natural objects: foliage, flowers, birds, clouds, moons and stars. The air was perfumed; music of a vaguely oriental character played softly in the background and from some invisible source came the soft gurgle of running water. Classic techniques to encourage relaxation and a receptive mind.

  The seats were so arranged that the spaces between them made it impossible for anyone to so much as touch the person on either side or speak to them without being overheard. Conscious of a movement at her side, Sukey glanced at Jennifer and saw her lips moving. Unable to make out the words, she shrugged, shook her head and looked away.

  After a few minutes Serena, who had retreated into a shadowy corner, re-emerged and once more moved round the circle, wordlessly holding out the tray to each person in turn. All obediently returned their cups and, as if responding to an unspoken instruction, sat back in their seats with their hands in their laps. There had been no direction to remain silent, yet no one spoke. A few throats were cleared, a few sounds of movement as people settled themselves comfortably, then all was still. Amid an atmosphere of highly charged expectancy, the lights began to dim until the room was in total darkness.

  Several seconds passed. Sukey, seated at one end of the horseshoe, was suddenly conscious of a faint rustle and a light draught on her cheek as if the air had been momentarily disturbed. Her eyes were drawn upward by a faint glow from the ceiling which grew in intensity until it fell like a spotlight on the figure of a woman standing immediately beneath it. She wore an ankle-length dress of dark green and a circlet of small evergreen leaves on the long, straight black hair which fell loosely round her shoulders. Her eyes, fringed with dark lashes, were of a striking blue, her skin was milk-white and her mouth a soft rose pink. She stood for a moment with bowed head, her perfectly shaped hands pressed together in an oriental gesture of greeting. Then she looked up, faced her audience and opened her arms like a priest about to bless a congregation. A slow, mysterious smile spread over her face.

  ‘I am Freya,’ she announced in a rich contralto. ‘In the name of the Unlimited, I welcome you to our ever-widening body of initiates.’ The words were greeted with a ripple of polite murmurs which died away in response to Freya’s raised hand. The smile faded, her expression became gravely earnest. ‘Your time to speak will come later, when you have taken the first steps to coming face to face with your inner selves,’ she informed them. Her opening announcement had been made in the style of a professional actor, dramatic and attention-demanding but not exaggeratedly so. As she listened to what followed, Sukey was aware of a subtle change of tempo. She was on the alert for any obvious gimmicks, but it took her several seconds to realise that Freya was timing her words to fit the rhythm of the background music. The effect was almost mesmerising. ‘For the moment,’ Freya continued in slow, measured tones, ‘all we ask of you is your silence… your silence and your total concentration.’

  And your money. The words popped unbidden into Sukey’s mind and she was startled by the next utterance, which seemed to indicate that the woman had read her thoughts.

  ‘Some of you will have thought long and hard before committing your money to what your common sense, or possibly your friends and families, may have told you is an impossible dream,’ Freya continued. ‘They will have told you to see your doctor, take pills, pull yourselves together. Yet such is your need that you have swept aside such negative thoughts and futile advice and come to seek our help. We shall not fail you. We do not ask you to reveal to us the needs or the pain that bring you here. Difficulties at work, problems with relationships, perhaps a bereavement – everyone is different, yet deep down all are the same.’ At the mention of bereavement, Sukey heard Jennifer utter a faint gasp that was almost a sob, quickly stifled.

  ‘Be still! Be still!’ Freya’s voice fell to a sibilant whisper. Sukey felt the words inducing a pleasant feeling of drowsiness; momentarily forgetting the need to remain on the alert, she closed her eyes and relaxed with a sigh of contentment. She became aware of a faint movement, followed by the touch of cold fingers on her forehead. An entry in Vera’s diary flashed into her mind; with an effort she shook off an increasing sense of lethargy as, through half-closed lids, she watched Freya move swiftly round the rest of the group, uttering the same words and touching the forehead of each person before resuming her place. It was noticeable that one after the other they all appeared to fall into an even deeper state of relaxation.

  There was an interval of several seconds before Freya spoke again and this time the rhythmic effect was brought back into play. She placed the palms of her hands together in front of her face and began swaying almost imperceptibly from side to side as she spoke. Covertly watching her, fascinated in spite of herself, Sukey found herself imitating the movement and sensed that the others were doing the same. ‘Our task is to help you to see your needs and your pain for what they are,’ Freya intoned. ‘Internal shackles that keep you in thrall. We will show you how you can throw off those shackles and direct you along the path that leads to the Unlimited.’ After another dramatic pause she said in a reverential tone, ‘And now, I will pass you into the hands of our leader.’

  She moved aside to make room for the white-robed figure who had materialised noiselessly out of the shadows behind her and now stepped forward into the spotlight. ‘I am Xavier,’ he announced.

  ‘It really was a most extraordinary experience,’ Sukey told Jim that evening. ‘Looked at objectively, it was all so cleverly stage-managed that several times I found myself on the point of being carried away. The combination of subdued lighting, perfume, music and Freya’s histrionics was quite hypnotic.’

  ‘That’s what’s been worrying me.’ Jim took her hand and looked earnestly into her eyes. ‘Promise me you’ll pull out at once if you feel any signs of getting spooked.’

  ‘I’m quite sure I won’t. I have to admit that Xavier was very impressive—’

  ‘Xavier? I thought you said that Freya woman was the prime mover.’

  ‘Oh no, she was just the warm-up act. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she’s had some drama training; she has an impressive range of tone and expressions and gestures to match. No, Xavier’s the king-pin, “our leader” as she described him. After her introductory spiel, he uttered some kind of incantation before urging us all to look deep into our innermost souls and silently confront the demons who had forged our internal shackles. We had to face the demons down and imagine ourselves breaking free of our shackles.’

  ‘I don’t recall anything about demons in the brochure.’

  ‘That’s probably because it might scare off punters of a nervous disposition,’ said Sukey with a giggle.

  ‘Is that all that happened? It doesn’t seem much for the money—’

  ‘Oh no, there were all sorts of chanting and mental exercises. One of them was to give our demon a name and order it to break our shackles so that we could climb on to the Inner Wheel. Then we had to sit in a closed circle, hold hands and feel the cosmic energy ci
rculating and drawing us up to it. After that we were all sent off to meditate in private in one of the little garden rooms I told you about. Then we went back indoors for a sort of recap, and that was it.’

  ‘What a load of old poppycock!’

  ‘It’s amazing how plausible it seemed at the time.’

  ‘What did the others make of it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We were told to leave in total silence and to – I can’t remember the exact words, but the idea was to keep our minds focused on what Xavier called “eternal truths” for as long as possible before being sucked back into the routine of our ordinary lives.’

  ‘Sounds like a good way of discouraging any sort of exchange of views or adverse comment.’

  ‘Looked at objectively, that’s probably the idea, but everyone accepted it as perfectly reasonable. You know,’ Sukey continued reflectively, ‘there’s something about Xavier that I can’t define. I’m prepared to believe that Freya, and probably Serena, are play-acting and simply in it for the money, but something shines out of Xavier like a beacon. Sincerity, integrity, utter conviction – they’re all part of it, but there’s another, indefinable quality… I can’t think of the right word.’

  ‘How about “barking”?’ Jim suggested. Sukey burst out laughing, then grew serious again as she said, ‘I’m a bit worried about Jennifer. I asked her – more as a joke really – what name she’d given her demon and she said, “Revenge.” I thought at first that was good, that she’d taken the first step towards ridding herself of the fixation that those three were responsible for Ollie’s suicide, but then she said, “I’ve become quite fond of my demon, we’re going to be good friends.”’

  ‘What d’you suppose she meant by that?’

  ‘I asked her, but she wouldn’t say any more.’

  ‘Well, better keep an eye on her.’

  ‘I can’t keep an eye on her all the time – not while we’re meditating. Besides, it’s Xavier and Co I’m supposed to be watching.’