Death at Burwell Farm

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Death at Burwell Farm Page 13

by Betty Rowlands


  ‘True.’ Jim stood up. ‘I’d better be off, I’m on early turn tomorrow. I’ll look forward to hearing what happens on Day Two.’

  ‘It’ll probably be more of the same – with variations, no doubt – for the rest of the week.’

  At the door he asked casually, ‘By the way, what do you call your demon?’

  She twined her arms round his neck and gazed with mock solemnity into his eyes. ‘Jim, of course,’ she said softly, ‘and I’ve become quite fond of him!’

  ‘Then you won’t want to escape from his shackles, will you?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  As Sukey had predicted, Day Two produced few surprises. By the end of Day Three, while still managing to maintain a degree of detachment, she was aware of an increasing sense of wellbeing and inner calm.

  ‘It’s quite amazing,’ she reported to Jim that evening over a drink in a pub near her home. ‘I can see it in the others as well – not that we have much contact during the sessions, except the touchy-feely interlude, but it shows in their faces as they leave to go home. The first day they seemed bemused, anxious even, but today there was more of a peaceful look about them. They must be starting to shake off their shackles, I suppose.’

  ‘What sort of people are they?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘It’s hard to say. There’s one other woman besides Jennifer and me. I’d put her age at about sixty and she wears a wedding ring so presumably she’s either married or widowed. Two of the men look like business types, although they wear casual clothes. The third has a slightly bookish look – a teacher, maybe, or a scientist.’

  ‘Ages?’

  ‘Mid forties to fifties, I suppose. It’s hard to tell.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound as if you’ve been observing them very closely.’

  ‘There isn’t a lot of opportunity for that. We’re either in this semi-darkened room chanting mantras or listening out for cosmic vibrations. Otherwise we’re sitting in our private space in the garden quietly meditating until we’re summoned back by bells for more of the same. We finish up on the floor doing a few yoga-like exercises before a period of total relaxation and then we’re given a few words of profound wisdom to speed us on our way. Today’s was something about there being no blame and we all do the best we can according to our awareness of the way things are.’

  ‘Surprised I haven’t heard that one from any of my villains,’ Jim commented with a wry smile. ‘Sounds like a handy cop-out for someone who’s just robbed a bank. I suppose,’ he went on, ‘there’s somewhere indoors to do your meditating if the weather’s bad. It wouldn’t be much fun in the pouring rain or a blizzard.’

  Sukey grinned back at him. ‘Trust you to be practical – yes, I imagine so. We’ve been lucky this week to have such perfect weather.’

  ‘So that’s it? Still no group discussions or opportunities to ask questions?’

  ‘Not so far. It says in our welcome pack that there’ll be an in-depth personal assessment with one of the leaders on Day Five.’

  ‘And you haven’t found anything adverse to report?’

  Sukey shook her head and nibbled an olive. ‘On the contrary, I’m beginning to understand why Vera Masters waxed so enthusiastic about the place. I know I didn’t start off with any hang-ups – at least none that I was aware of – but I am beginning to feel a sense of inner peace that I haven’t known before. On my way home today I suddenly began to have charitable thoughts towards Paul. I suppose it was that talk about blame,’ she added reflectively.

  It was the first time in a long while that she had made any reference to her feelings towards her ex-husband. Jim gave her a searching look. ‘You aren’t getting spooked, are you?’ he said anxiously.

  ‘Of course not.’ She reached across and touched his hand. ‘Just the same, I’m sure it’s having a therapeutic effect. You ought to give it a try some time – it might make you less uptight.’

  ‘I’m not uptight!’ he retorted indignantly, then gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, now and again, maybe.’

  Sukey helped herself to another olive. ‘One thing worries me a little though,’ she said after a pause.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Will any improvement stand the test of time, or are the so-called demons lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on their victims once they finish the course? I suppose they can always go back for a refresher.’ She fingered the stem of her glass, frowning.

  ‘You said Serena admitted to the occasional failure?’

  ‘Oh yes, she was quite open about it.’

  ‘What about the so-called rejuvenation treatments?’

  ‘They’re extra – quite expensive, too. Therapies and massages with fancy-sounding oriental names. I understand they’re only available in the afternoons or evenings, but we’re going to be shown round the therapy rooms and given more details on Friday.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s where RYCE makes its real money.’

  ‘Could be.’ Sukey’s eyes sparkled as she took a mouthful of wine. ‘That’s an idea – if Xavier gives any of the treatments I’m tempted to have a go at one of them – all in the cause of the investigation, naturally.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he said indignantly.

  She leaned towards him. ‘Only kidding,’ she said softly. ‘I’m more than happy with your, er, treatments.’

  ‘So you’re still on good terms with your demon?’ he whispered back.

  ‘Excellent! Here’s to Day Four!’ She raised her glass, drained it and put it down.

  ‘Would you like a refill?’

  ‘No thanks, it’s getting late and I have to be up early. You know,’ she added, as she stood up and reached for her jacket, ‘I’ll be almost sorry when the week’s over – it’s been an interesting experience in a lovely tranquil environment.’

  But on Day Four the tranquillity was to be shattered.

  Fifteen

  When Sukey arrived at Burwell Farm the following morning she was immediately conscious of a subtle difference in the atmosphere. She was the last to take her place in the horseshoe and was surprised when, instead of maintaining their usual passive, withdrawn attitude whilst awaiting their cup of herbal tea, two of her fellow ‘initiates’ nodded across the room and smiled at her. She smiled back before turning to Jennifer with the intention of making a whispered comment, but the young widow showed no sign of awareness of anything unusual. She was sitting with her eyes closed; her lids were fluttering as if she was in a light sleep and her hands were pressed firmly together in an attitude suggestive of prayer.

  The level of lighting was marginally higher than it had been during the first three days; although it was still low, it had been increased sufficiently to illuminate parts of the room which had hitherto been in shadow. On the walls, which were covered in dark material, Sukey was able to make out framed prints of mystic designs, some of which appeared vaguely oriental in origin; among them she recognised enlarged versions of the posters and book jackets on display in the office. Against one wall was a table with an open display cabinet above it. Various items were set out there: a brass bell, some candles in a variety of shapes and sizes, bottles which Sukey guessed contained essential oils, jars of what looked like pot pourri, books and postcards. No doubt, she thought, there would be an invitation to browse – and buy – before the end of the course.

  The air in the room was still perfumed, but with a lighter, more delicate fragrance than before. The music had taken on a new quality as well. Previously it had been exclusively instrumental, soothing and somnolent in tempo but lacking a regular rhythm or sustained melodic theme; now it had acquired a quickening pulse suggestive of an awakening from sleep. Another instrument had been subtly woven into the tapestry of sound – an instrument with a haunting, compelling quality that made Sukey’s skin tingle. It took her several seconds to identify it as a human voice; high-pitched, almost religious in character, it sang a counterpoint with no discernible words yet managing to convey
a sense of hopeful anticipation.

  Serena’s manner, too, hinted at a change of mood. She was clad as usual in one of her brilliantly coloured dresses – orange today, with bold splashes of scarlet and vermilion – but instead of her customary silence, accompanied by an enigmatic, penetrating gaze as she offered her tray to each individual, she nodded, smiled and softly said, ‘Welcome’ to each. Yet for some reason, as she took her cup with a whispered ‘Thank you’, Sukey had a feeling that beneath the surface calm lay a hint of watchfulness, almost of disquiet. There seemed to be no particular reason why this should be so. To all outward appearances the week was progressing according to plan; as she had told Jim the previous evening, everyone showed signs of an increasing sense of wellbeing. She herself was feeling the benefit of the strangely effective rituals in which she had taken part. Even Jennifer had seemed more at peace. Although she, like the others, had obeyed Xavier’s injunction to depart in silence, she bad – surprisingly in view of her declared motive for being there at all – shown no inclination to talk things over on the telephone later. On the other hand, there had been no more talk of revenge.

  Serena went round with her tray to gather the empty cups and then disappeared through a curtained alcove which; like many other features in the room, had previously been almost invisible. A moment later the curtains parted again and Freya emerged. She took her place as usual beneath the spotlight, but this time there was no dramatic reduction in the general level of lighting. She stood perfectly still for several seconds, her eyes fixed in a steady gaze that appeared to be focused on infinity rather than her audience, her hands raised and a mysterious smile on her face. Sukey had an eerie sensation that a subliminal message was being transmitted; she found words springing unbidden into her head. Come out of the shadows, she seemed to be hearing. Shake off your crumbling internal shackles, banish your demons, see the Inner Wheel within your grasp. Today, under the guidance of your leader, you will accomplish the first stage of your journey to the Unlimited.

  A low murmur that was almost a sigh of pleasure travelled round the room – a murmur in which Sukey, somewhat to her consternation, found herself quite spontaneously joining. She gave herself a mental shake. Although, as she had assured Jim the previous evening, she was reasonably satisfied that no malign influences were at work, nevertheless she felt in honour bound to keep her senses on the alert for the remainder of the week in order to fulfil her promise to Adrian Masters. She had not yet had an opportunity to bank the cheque he had insisted on giving her; he was hardly getting value for his money and she was seriously thinking of offering to return it.

  Freya was wearing a dress of rich midnight blue. In contrast to the dark, unadorned garments she had worn during the first three days it was scattered with fragments of some metallic material which made shifting, glittering patterns of light as she moved. Until now she had worn no jewellery, but this morning a crystal hung from a silver chain round her throat and rings sparkled on her fingers. A few white flowers had been added to the circlet of foliage on her head.

  At last she began to speak. ‘Already,’ she intoned in a throbbing contralto, ‘I sense that you are emerging from the shadows. The air is alive with cosmic vibrations. They are all around us, destroying your demons with their divine power. Your internal shackles are crumbling, the Inner Wheel is within your grasp. Picture it, see it, reach out for it, ride on it with thankfulness. Drink from the sacred wellspring of cosmic energy and feel it bearing you towards the Great Unlimited!’

  Even as she was assuring herself that this was pure clap-trap, the words had echoed so closely the thoughts running through Sukey’s brain a few moments earlier that they caused a sharp twinge in the pit of her stomach. Was she under a light form of hypnosis? Were they all? There had been no mention of hypnotherapy in the brochure, but… her pulse quickened; she began to experience a feeling that something unexpected was about to happen and renewed her efforts to keep her mind and her senses firmly under her own control.

  Freya moved into the centre of the horseshoe. ‘Rise and link hands!’ she commanded. Everyone obeyed, forming a circle around her. She began rotating slowly, gazing into the eyes of each in turn. It was part of an exercise she had put them through every day during which Sukey had so far managed without difficulty to remain detached while covertly watching the others. This time she felt herself struggling against the influence of Freya’s mind. It was a frightening sensation; in an effort to resist, she began mentally reciting the words of ‘Ring-a-ring-o-roses’, which induced an almost hysterical urge to burst out laughing. It was a relief when the silence was broken by the sound of another voice.

  ‘I feel it… I feel it!’ One of the men – the one Sukey had described to Jim as ‘bookish’ – was gazing at Freya with an expression of bemused wonderment, as if in response to a revelation.

  Freya stretched out both hands to him and said softly, ‘You have reached it… the Inner Wheel?’

  ‘Yes… yes,’ he replied eagerly. He broke the circle and came towards her, his own hands extended. Their fingers touched for a second; then, like a man in a dream, he took a pace backwards and sank into his seat.

  ‘We rejoice in your achievement,’ said Freya earnestly. ‘Has anyone else reached the Inner Wheel?’ Her glance travelled round the other members of the group, who had instinctively moved closer together and reformed the chain. ‘If so, raise your right hand.’ Once more, the circle was broken; this time two hands were hesitantly raised and the finger-touching gesture was performed on each in turn so that only one man, Jennifer and Sukey remained standing. Freya gestured to them to sit down; as they complied, she resumed her place under the spotlight and said, ‘To the remaining three who have still to take this momentous upward leap I say, The day is not yet over. Place yourselves in the hands of your leader and have faith in his wisdom. See, he comes before you now!’

  She turned and flung out a hand in a wide, sweeping gesture. An almost rapturous smile lit up her colourless features. ‘Xavier!’ she cried. ‘Your initiates await your guidance!’ There was a breathless, expectant hush as all eyes were fixed on the curtains behind her.

  Seconds passed, but nothing happened. The curtains failed to part. Freya remained motionless, frozen in the attitude she had struck as she uttered her summons. Her eyes seemed to glaze over; her smile became fixed and then faded like snow in the sun. Someone coughed, others fidgeted.

  Freya called again, with no result. She called a third time, and now there was a hint of something close to desperation in her voice. ‘Xavier, come! Your initiates await you with impatience!’ Still no response. She turned back to the group, who were now showing distinct signs of restiveness. ‘Knowing how much strength he will need for this momentous day, he must have fallen into a deeper level of meditation than usual at this time,’ she said. Her voice had risen in pitch to something that Sukey guessed was close to her normal manner of speaking and it was evident that she was totally unprepared for such a contingency.

  ‘Please,’ she urged them, ‘compose yourselves and wait quietly while I go and rouse him.’

  ‘Well, that was a bit of a let-down,’ muttered one of the men.

  There was a reproving ‘Sshh!’ from the woman sitting next to him.

  Everyone lapsed into silence. Nothing could be heard in the room but the sound of quiet breathing. Sukey found herself counting off the seconds; she had reached thirty when, from somewhere not far distant, came an unearthly wail like that of a trapped animal. It rose to a crescendo and died away before being repeated, closer this time. The inarticulate sound became human; it crystallised into words and became recognisable as the voice of a woman screaming, ‘Help! Murder! Please… someone… come quickly!’

  As Sukey instinctively leapt to her feet with the intention of going to investigate, she shot a keen glance round the group in an attempt to gauge their reactions. For a moment, everyone remained in their seats, motionless and open-mouthed, wearing the stunned, bewildered look of sleepwal
kers jerked violently into wakefulness. Beside her, Jennifer sat with her eyes still closed, her hands tightly clenched. Then, like statues come suddenly to life, the rest sat up and exchanged horrified glances as the cries for help were renewed. One of the men – the one who had commented audibly on Xavier’s non-appearance – stood up.

  ‘I suppose we’d better investigate,’ he said and began making for the door, but Sukey was there before him. She stood in front of it, barring his way.

  ‘Everyone is to stay here!’ she commanded. ‘If there has been a murder, no one is to leave this room until the police arrive to take charge.’

  The others turned in their seats and gaped at her in astonishment. Jennifer, who had emerged from her apparent trance, was staring first at Sukey and then at the man who had spoken, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide with alarm.

  ‘Who says so?’ the man demanded, glaring at Sukey.

  Sukey took her ID from her pocket and held it up for them all to see. ‘I’m a scene of crime officer and I work for the police,’ she said crisply. ‘If there has been a murder, I’m taking charge until they get here. Please, all of you, stay in your seats while I go and find out what’s happened.’ She was as shaken as the rest of them, but she had evidently managed to inject sufficient authority into her voice to convince them and they all complied but one.

  ‘You as well please, Mr…?’

  ‘Foster. Dan Foster. Why don’t I come with you?’

  At that moment the woman who had told him to be quiet suddenly burst into tears. ‘It’s horrible, horrible,’ she wailed. ‘Just when I was reaching out to grasp the Inner Wheel! If Xavier’s been murdered I’ll never reach it now! Oh dear God, what will become of me?’ She began rocking to and fro in her chair, weeping like a child. Jennifer went over to her and began patting her on the shoulder.

  Sukey had a flash of inspiration. ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Foster, it would be very helpful if you’d kindly wait here and keep everyone as calm as possible—’

 

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