Mystical Circles (25 page)

“D’you want me to name them for you?” enquired Rory.

Juliet looked from one to the other expectantly.

“No,” said Don.

“I’ve known the truth about Craig for months now,” said Rory.

Don lost his sense of caution. “How dare you suggest you know my son better than I do?”

“Because it’s a fact.” Rory grabbed the older man by both shoulders. Juliet cried out. This was it. Don had done it now. If Rory started beating him, how could she help? If she ran off to fetch help, what state would Don be in by the time the rescue party arrived?

Reckless, desperate, she leapt forward. “No, Rory. Let Don go at once.”

For a moment she succeeded in distracting Rory. He loosened his grip on Don. The older man fell back. But Rory grasped hold of him again. “Not until you admit the truth about Craig. How can you be such a fool?”

14

A Fear Not Yet Overcome

The next morning, Friday, opened with muted skies; and even when the sun cut through, a sullen humidity worked relentlessly to lower Juliet’s spirits yet further.

What
the truth
was about Craig, she still did not know. Rory’s battle-hungry approach had worked against him. Both Don and Juliet had been so intent on loosening his grip, and then putting plenty of distance between themselves and Rory, that the question remained unanswered – although she herself had her ideas. A gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach reminded her of this. Rory’s revelation was going to be about Craig’s sexuality. She felt sure of that.

But what she couldn’t be sure about was whether Rory’s opinions on the subject would bear any relation to the truth at all. Although Rory himself might have intense feelings towards Craig, that in itself proved nothing about Craig’s own sexual preferences – unless, of course, Craig had responded to him in some way, and given him cause for hope.

But nothing had been resolved up on the woodland track. Rory’s behaviour had put paid to that. Always the same, thought Juliet. Violence never solved anything. And yet Rory still seemed to believe it was worth a go. Why, she didn’t understand. What was it all about? She had her theories, and yet did they really fit? There was no time for theories anyway. She had to keep on the alert. Watch out for Rory.
Don’t ever let him get you alone. Not if you value your life
. She touched her throat as she thought this, and shuddered.

And another serious question remained unanswered too. There was still no news from Theo. Zoe had heard nothing, and had been in tears the last time Juliet spoke to her about it. Juliet felt even more fearful that Theo was indeed planning to stage a second
disappearance
.

And meanwhile, Craig, too, was being elusive; and with Zoe now maintaining a chilly distance, Juliet felt restless and on edge.

But an hour after lunch, the skies held a much brighter aspect, and with the atmosphere fresher, she strolled across the forecourt, portable recorder slung over her shoulder, all set up to record, and microphone in hand. She stopped to watch Patrick painting the garden gate. His eye-catching overalls nearly matched the colour he’d chosen for the gate: peacock blue.

He seemed totally absorbed in his work, and it wasn’t a task that provided good sound effects. She didn’t consider it worth breaking into his concentration with a request for an interview, and began to walk away. At this he unexpectedly spun round.

“Hello, Patrick.” She was at the ready with a friendly smile, and held the microphone out. “Would you like to tell the listeners what you’re doing right now?”

He supplied a brief description, in a surly voice. Oh dear. What was the matter with Patrick?

He laid his brush in the tray. His expression was guarded. He muttered something about Theo. The name seemed to occur in the same breath as
committed a mortal sin
, and
outside the grace of God
. Then he added a remark in which she caught the words
languish
and
years in purgatory
.

“Purgatory? For Theo? What makes you think that?” she asked.

Patrick wore a secretive mask.

“Has Theo shared his past with you?” Juliet persisted.

“As it happens, yes, I do know a thing or two about what he’s been up to. It’ll be purgatory for him, all right,” maintained the Irishman.

“How many years do you think he’ll get?” she queried, hoping Patrick would lighten up. But her flippancy belied her true feelings. She hardly knew Theo, after all. And neither did Zoe. And Patrick’s words had increased her doubts about the clergyman even more.

The Irishman’s face darkened. “It’s not for us to know the exact timings. But he’s been too lax. An earlier word from his bishop might have pulled him into line. But by the time he arrived here the rot had already set in.”

“In what sense?”

“That book of his. I’ve read it. It has the devil in it.”

“Does it? How fascinating!” She resolved to read it as soon as possible. Meanwhile, she reckoned Patrick needed careful handling. “I haven’t read the book yet so I can’t comment. And Theo may not be back again. He’s already been away two nights.”

“Oh no, he’ll be back.” The Irishman set about reloading his paintbrush. “He phoned Craig half an hour ago.”

She pulled up at this news. “Did he? What happened at his disciplinary review?”

“No idea. But I reckons they’re far too liberal, the Anglicans. They probably gave him a second chance.”  Patrick’s expression hardened. And he fell silent. Clearly he felt they’d both said enough. Juliet thought it unwise to push him. He resumed his painting, and she walked on until, reaching the fir trees at the western perimeter of the vegetable garden, she found a bench to sit on.

Then she noticed three figures crossing the forecourt from the house towards the garden gate. Shading her eyes from the now-dazzling sun, she focused on them.

Laura and Edgar were easily identifiable but not their companion, a wild-looking character with matted hair, in unsavoury rags. For a moment she wondered whether he’d wandered in from the lane at the top of the drive, and they were just escorting him off the premises. He clutched a well-stuffed plastic supermarket bag, and every so often he poked his fingers in it and spent some time exploring the contents.

Then she snapped her fingers: of course. James. He’d once more slipped into his alter ego. He was at it again. What a spectacle he made. When she compared it with the elegant man who usually graced the community with his exclusive tailoring and Noel Coward-like manner, she found it hard to believe.

She got up again and walked towards them, Nagra once more set to record, holding the microphone to her mouth and setting the scene with a few well-chosen words. She held the microphone out close to the group. The trio approached Patrick, who turned, paintbrush in hand, seemingly unconcerned by the sight of James in full costume and stage make-up. Juliet moved closer with her mike; if they objected to her activities, no one mentioned it. In fact, they ignored Juliet throughout. It was a perfect fly-on-the-wall piece of recording.

Laura, Edgar and Patrick embarked upon an animated discussion. She adjusted the levels, and made sure it was all coming over clearly.

Laura gesticulated in the direction of the main entrance gate at the top of the drive. “Theo will be back soon. But I agree, Patrick. When he returns, he’ll need to make his stance clear. Either he’s a straight down the line
one of them
, or he’s
one of us
.”

“He’s
one of us
.” Edgar looked exasperated.

“How can you be sure?” asked Laura.

“Theo listened when we wanted to talk, didn’t he?” said Edgar.  “He enjoyed being here. He accepts us. Which one of us has seen him get up on a soapbox? He didn’t when he came in February, and nor did he this time, either. I can’t understand you, Laura. You had a crush on him back then.”

This silenced her for a few moments. Her face burned.

Yes, Juliet had guessed this much.

“All right. But when he returns, he can’t carry on like he did on Wednesday,” Laura insisted.

“Why not?” said Edgar, provocatively.

“You know full well. We can all see the way things stand with Zoe.”

Juliet stiffened.

“They make a lovely pair,” dribbled James, producing a beer bottle from his bag.

“No they don’t,” Laura flared. “Theo was so sweet to me back in February. But this time, he’s ignored me. He’s been all over Zoe instead. And I even swatted up
1 Corinthians 13
for him.”

“Perhaps you’d have done better learning a piece from the
Song of Solomon
,” said Patrick. “He’d have preferred that. Plenty there about erotic love.” He looked disapproving.

“I don’t think that would have worked either,” said Edgar, looking like a jolly monk who’s just blended a new liqueur. “You would have gone to all that trouble to please him, and all to no avail. Why? Because he only has eyes for our pretty little Zoe. And so, Laura,” he added, “my advice is: stick to Al. There’s no point in keeping your options open.”

Laura tossed her head.

James’s rags flapped in the breeze. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, allowing most of the contents to spill down his chin. Laura drew back in disgust.

“So we are agreed,” said Edgar. “Theo and Zoe should be allowed to have their fun.”

“I don’t think we’ve agreed that at all,” said Laura in a snide manner.

“Well, James and I have,” said Edgar. “You and Patrick can beg to differ if you like.”

This produced a range of reactions from Laura and Patrick. Juliet felt she detected annoyance, moral outrage and even a hint of envy.

Then Edgar said casually, “And that book of his… Hot stuff. What do you think, Patrick? You read it after me.”

This guaranteed the renewed attention of Laura.

Patrick snorted. “Burn it! That’s what I think.”

James lurched closer to the hedge and leaned back against the leaves.

“You’re biased, Patrick,” continued Edgar, clearly satisfied that he now had the upper hand over them, “I think it’s stunning. My God, I wish I’d had something like that to show those bastards who axed my research grant.”

“Well, all well and good, but small comfort to me,” began Laura again. “When Theo returns, we must call a halt to his play-acting.”

“In what role?” enquired Edgar with a sly smile.

“You know full well,” she said. “
Lustful priest
.”

“
Licentious cleric
,” growled Patrick.

“Very popular literary and dramatic role, goes back to medieval times,” said Edgar. “And may I add to your list the
flirtatious friar
? We meet one of those in Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales
. Chaucer’s friar loves associating with the fairer sex, and is kind enough to perform marriages which he has made necessary.”

“That’s enough on the subject, Edgar,” shouted Laura. For one dangerous moment, Juliet thought Laura was going to slap Edgar’s face. But Laura restrained herself.

Edgar, however, still didn’t seem to think the subject had been pushed far enough. “You and Al can bend the rules,” he said to Laura, “then you call the censors in when Theo falls for Zoe.”

“Well…”  Laura spluttered for a few moments. “That’s outrageous, Edgar. Al and I have no reputation to maintain, if that’s what you mean. Whereas Theo…”

“…has standards to live up to,” maintained Patrick. “Constantly changing ones, too. But that’s the Church of England for you. Always shifting their goalposts.”

This remark was met by stony silence from Laura and Edgar. Humming tunelessly to himself, James sank back into the hedge, perilously close to the wet paint. The Irishman snatched up his brush, and plunged it into the paint pot, as if planning to give James a new colour scheme along with the gate.

Whilst pleased with the recording, Juliet felt dismayed by what she’d learned. All this stuff about Theo. She couldn’t trust him. What
were
his intentions towards Zoe? And when she’d questioned him on the subject of his past, he’d steered her away from the mystery of his disappearance, and had instead told her a tale about the Garden of Gethsemane. That had been interesting, of course, but he’d still not thrown any light on the other dark areas of his life that really concerned her. James, Edgar, Patrick and Laura had evidently seen enough of Theo, though, to begin forming strong opinions about him.

“Personally,” said Edgar, placing a warning hand on the Irishman’s arm, as Juliet closed in with the mike again, “I’m at a loss to understand all this fuss. I’ve no problem with Theo. I like him.”

“Maybe you do,” Laura sniffed. “I appreciate you and Patrick have read his book, whilst none of the rest of us have yet had that advantage.”

“Borrow my copy,” advised Edgar. “Patrick has it at the moment. He’ll give it to you.”

“I’ll throw it on the flames first,” growled Patrick.

Laura stared at him. “You said that before, Patrick.  And I most definitely do want to read it. I’ll get it off you as soon as possible.”

Then James created a diversion. He shambled over to Laura, and put his hand on hers. “Gotta few pence to spare, lady?”

Juliet couldn’t help laughing. He was a good actor. No wonder the casting directors liked him. Ideal for those cameo roles he’d mentioned.

Laura found voice again. “I’ll slap your face, James, if you come near me again with that disgusting stench. Where do you get it from? And keep your bottle away from me, too.”

James backed off slightly, drooling. Laura foraged in the sleeve of her cardigan, brought out a lacy handkerchief and scrubbed at her hand. But she couldn’t resist returning to the subject of Theo. “I thought he was going to be our saving grace.”

“Did you?” Edgar’s bald head glimmered in the sunlight that had just broken through the clouds again. “Why?”

“Never,” declared Patrick, “not with his background.”

James sloped over to the Irishman again, and plucked at his sleeve. It struck Juliet as rather appealing that the tramp among them should be playing peacemaker. “Aw, go on,” drooled James. “Give Theo a break. He only did it for a year or two…”