Mystical Circles (36 page)

“Ten-thirty,” he said. “Say, you’ve been knocked off centre, haven’t you? Missed lunch and dinner. What were you up to earlier?” He gave her a sly wink.

Juliet ignored this gesture. “Is it that late? Why didn’t you wake me, Al?”

He paused before replying. “I was a little… preoccupied myself.” A self-conscious grin spread across his face, together with a distinct flush.

“What with?” she asked, her attention freshly aroused.

“You know, Juliet…”  He jangled loose change in his pocket for a few moments, and recrossed his legs. “When we first met I told you I was here on vacation. Seemed like a good way to cover my trail. But honestly, I came meaning to stay for ever.”

“Like most of you,” she murmured. “Against Craig’s better judgement.”

He looked baffled.

“So you feel differently now?” she asked.

“Guess I do. I figured it all out as I chatted to Laura an hour ago.” Now his colour deepened yet further.

Juliet began to guess Al’s news before he had the chance to share it. “And what did you and Laura say to each other?”

“We discovered we’d both been feeling the same towards each other.”

“Feeling the same? So you and Laura…?”

“Yeah, we’ve both been propping up the bar on a spiritual stopover,” said Al, “waiting for our flight to be called. And then I clicked. It was up to me to grab her, and head through that boarding gate.”

Juliet caught her breath. Surely this would be just what Craig had hoped for: the willing departure of some of his long-termers, so he could get new people in on proper, fixed-term contracts at the full commercial rate.

“Yep,” continued Al. “And Laura… she’s a real babe. The plan sounds good to her. She’s coming back home with me to the States. She’s agreed to marry me, Juliet.” And with that, Al’s face flooded with pride and happiness.

Juliet jumped up and he too rose to his feet. She flung her arms around him. “I’m so happy for you both, Al.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She let him go, and he contemplated her with affection. Then he engulfed her in a rib-crushing hug she considered worthy of a grizzly bear.

Juliet was delighted for Laura and Al. And yet she herself was in a state of inner turmoil. What was her next move? She had no idea. “Craig and Don will have to make the best of it,” she said, as Al released her.

“Yep. Afraid I draw a blank on that one. Of course, I’ll soon be out of the picture. Laura and me, we’re pretty much ready to get going.” He waited, then added, “The two of them got together in the library after lunch. Had a hunch it was about you.”

She tensed at this. “Why?” She gazed at him, hope finely blended with dread.

“One or two phrases I picked up. Afraid I’ve no idea of the outcome. Don’t let it bug you, though.” He squeezed her shoulder.

“But it does.”

He tried to distract her. “Hungry?”  

“Yes.”

“I’ll go and snitch some leftovers.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” she said.

“Sure? Fine. Be seeing you.”

“Bye. And well done, Al.”

“Thanks.” And he headed off in the direction of the hallway.

Before she could make a move, the door from the dining room opened, and Theo came through. She stiffened.

“Ah,” he said brightly. “Just the person I wanted. Where have you been for most of the day? We missed you at lunch and dinner.”

“Went for a long walk,” she said. “I’m exhausted, Theo. But not because of that. Your comments shattered me. You really didn’t help.”

“Sorry you feel like that. But there are some things you need to hear. Let’s not go over that ground again though. I’ve said enough about Don.”

Even as Theo said Don’s name Juliet felt a surge of excitement, fear and doubt.

“Ah.” He studied her. “As I suspected.”

“I don’t believe you suspect anything,” she said hotly.

“Very well. Enough said, for the moment. But Juliet, do you plan to return to London?”

“Of course,” she burst out, feeling under attack. “Friday. You’re perfectly free to ask. This is work for me, you know.” But she was breathing fast, and he clearly saw that. She must speak to Don. She felt their embrace had changed everything. But did he? She must see him to find out how he felt.

“And your recordings?” persisted Theo, his expression neutral.

“Going great, thanks,” she said tightly.

“You’re still on track?”

“Of course.” She felt irate at this remark. Maybe there was one almighty mess with Craig and Don, but even so… She had to carry on. She must complete what she came for – if she could remember what it was. Right now, her brain wouldn’t cooperate. Most urgent:  speak to Don. Then Craig. But Theo too. She still needed to know Zoe and Theo’s plans. “I’ll stay for another day or two,” she said.  She could be sure of that at least. Now for Theo. She needed the facts from him. “Theo, I know you and I…” she began.

“…said more than we meant to, earlier?”

“Yes. But still not enough about the things that matter most.”

He lifted one eyebrow in a cryptic manner. “Of course,” he said. “I wanted another chat with you too, before going to bed.”

Juliet had meant she wanted to talk about Zoe, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Theo did.

“Craig and I have arranged to meet in the Monk’s Room, in ten minutes,” Theo said. “May I sound you out about something first?”

She moistened her lips. She itched with anxiety to go and find Don. But OK, Theo was here. Get it over with. She nodded, and he perched on the arm of the chair next to hers. As she looked at him, she saw the midsummer night sky beyond, full of lightness. It surprised her. Everything still seemed slightly unreal, including the time that had passed since the scene up on the woodland track.

“I understand you’re worried about Zoe, Juliet,” said Theo. “I’ll soon put your mind at rest.  But as for Don… I stopped you talking about him earlier. But talk about him now if you must. And Craig.”

“First, Theo, tell me – do you know how Don is feeling right now?”

“I have a pretty good idea. He’s on the edge.”

“In what sense?” she asked.

“Well, let me put it like this,” said Theo. “With Craig rapidly squandering his inheritance – as Don sees it – and bankruptcy looming, Llewellyn trying to take over, and the news that his son has been harbouring a long-term mental-health sufferer with no safeguards in place,  Don needed precious little else to destabilise him completely. It took only you to do that.”

“Me?” She was dumbstruck.

“Yes. And the same could be said of Craig himself. He was devastated to see you in Don’s arms.”

“I don’t see why he should be,” maintained Juliet.

“Of course you probably wouldn’t,” said Theo. “You didn’t see Craig’s face. But let’s move on from that. I had a few words with Don at lunch. He’d just taken an unexpected phone call. I won’t go into the details. But he was called away at once.”

“What?” She sat up straight, her heart lurching. “Called away? Where? For how long?”

“Don’t know. He spoke briefly to Craig, and disappeared.”

“But … why? What for?”

“Sorry. Not allowed to share that with you,” said Theo. “Packed his bags, had a bite of lunch, then left.”

Stunned, she continued to search his face, hardly able to take his words in. Had Don abandoned her? Did he regret what happened? Was this his answer? Escape? “Back to Barnsley?” said Juliet. “Has Don given up?”

“I promised to say nothing.”

For several moments she couldn’t trust herself to go on, too angry and hurt to speak. What did this mean? It was a kick in the face. Don was her only real ally here. “But…”  She forced words out, in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. “Then I must see Craig. And find out what happened. Will he be in the Monk’s Room yet?”

“Take it easy, Juliet.” He laid a restraining hand on her arm. “You know I’m about to go and join him up there. You come too.”

“Let’s go.” They both got up. She followed him into the dining room, through the doorway by the fireplace and up the narrow flight of stairs to the Monk’s Room; that small space within the thickness of the wall which Laura had first mentioned to her, formerly used by fugitives. Theo knocked at the door.

“Who’s that?” Craig’s voice sounded slurred. Had he been drinking more than usual?

“It’s me, Theo. And Juliet too.”

Craig opened the door. He eyed her strangely. His hair was in disarray, as if he’d run his hands through it several times. No disadvantage to his appearance though. He still looked amazingly attractive, dressed in dark-blue jeans and a surf-style polo shirt. “No recording equipment?” he said.

Juliet held her hands out, palms up, and met his gaze.

“OK. Come in,” said Craig.

Juliet took a deep breath. She must focus her mind. She needed to find out what had happened to Don. She wanted a hundred percent honesty from Craig for the first time since she’d met him.

It was a very simple room, with whitewashed walls. There was no sign of the Buddha which she understood to normally be the sole occupant. The furnishings consisted only of two chairs and a small table, and the floor was carpeted in purple. She took one chair, Theo another, and Craig the edge of the table.

Craig began first, betraying nervousness by a constant twisting of his wristwatch. “The time’s come for us to be straight with each other. I’m sure, Juliet, you’re glad to hear that.”

“I certainly am,” she replied.

Theo’s face had now regained some of its characteristic tranquility.

Craig forged on. “The reason why I run a community of emotional misfits is because I am one myself.”

“Come, Craig, you’re not being quite fair on yourself by saying that,” remonstrated Theo gently.

Juliet said nothing. Instead, she studied Craig’s face. Was this the real Craig she saw before her, with frank, open expression? Or was he about to exercise his disturbing gift, and shift appearance again? From the sound of his voice, he’d probably had more than a few extra brandies after dinner tonight. But he seemed sufficiently under control to know what he was talking about. Yes, he was being upfront with them both. But even so – the charismatic, charming Craig, describing himself as an emotional misfit seemed completely out of character.

Theo evidently felt he could rescue his friend’s reputation. “You do yourself no favour by saying this. I admit, however, that you attract misfits, as evidenced by the members of your group.”

“Come on, Theo, let’s ditch the pretence,” said Craig.

The clergyman was silent.

“Thank you.” Craig hurried relentlessly on, perhaps anxious to say all he had to say, now he was in confession mode. “It’ll be easier for Juliet to recognise, because she’s already quizzed me on my attitude to women.”

“Yes,” Juliet said. “You say you don’t trust them.”

“I don’t,” he agreed. “And yet… I did have a vision for everyone here, men and women, and believed it could work. You see, ultimately, I’m an idealist. I’m a perfectionist, a romantic. I have a Great Gatsby vision of the ideal woman in white chiffon at a riverbank picnic.”

Juliet covered her face with her hands to stop herself laughing, then dropped them to her sides and lifted her head once more. “Craig, where does this vision come from? Are you so much influenced by Scott Fitzgerald?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said, looking slightly ruffled.

“Are you telling me that Laura, and Beth, and Zoe – and me too – in fact, all four of us women, only ever needed to dress in frothy white and carry parasols, in order to transform the community into an ever-turning wheel of happiness and fulfilment?”

“Flippancy doesn’t suit you, Juliet,” said Craig severely. “And…”

She broke in, persisting with the point she wanted to make. “Let me disillusion you. Picnics, and people, are not like that. At a real-life picnic, you sit on woodlice, flies settle on your sandwiches, and the wind blows your napkins away.”

She saw that Theo’s face was split by a wide grin. “And you get thistles up your backside and stinging nettles inside your trouser legs,” the clergyman said.

“Now listen.” Craig was clearly disconcerted by these remarks. “I’m referring to Gatsby’s romantic dream, his idealistic vision, the idea of picnics.”

“Oh, the idea of picnics is lovely,” Juliet persisted. “But – and I’m guessing here, of course, but perhaps Theo might back me up – how often have you, perhaps, in your own life, set out for a picnic, and then perhaps said, 
I’m not getting out there. I’m not going to sit on that muddy grass
? How often have you ended up having your picnic in the car, spilling wine over the windscreen, and getting caught up with the gear lever? It doesn’t matter how lovely the idea of picnics is, if you actually go on one you’ll very often sit on that thistle.”

She glanced at Theo. His shoulders were shaking, and he was clearly trying to compose himself. She guessed he understood her perfectly.

“Juliet, I didn’t realise you held this view of life, and I see I need to do some work on you,” said Craig after a long pause.

“No, you don’t, Craig,” said Juliet. “My grasp on reality is firm. It’s yours that’s adrift. And by the way, let me remind you of how Scott Fitzgerald chose to end
The Great Gatsby
.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past
. How does that fit in with your ban on
looking back
?”

Craig gave her a hard look.

“Juliet’s right,” said Theo. “You engage with the past all the time, Craig. And so you will continue to do, until you and your father set things right, and create a new future. Yes, this is a picnic. But the thistle in the picnic here,” he insisted, clearly determined to pull the conversation back on track, “as I see it, is the fact that for some time now there’s been no agreement between you and Don about how the place was ever meant to work financially.”

“We both knew well how it was meant to work,” said Craig, exasperated. “People were to come for fixed-term stays, and pay their way.”

“And then it went wrong,” said Theo. “People took advantage, and you were too kind to throw them out.”

“Maybe so,” said Craig. “But right now money is the least of my problems.”