Tales of Sin & Fury, Part 1 (14 page)

Ren asked, ‘When was this?'

‘This autumn. Morton started teasing me seriously. When he saw my tired face in the morning, he'd say “Another painful historical episode? I think it's those bones. ‘Take us back to Crete!' they're saying. ‘Let us out of this box!'”

‘I tried to tell him that the bones were my friends. That I felt they were warning me. He made screwy movements with his finger and kissed me on the forehead. He wouldn't take me seriously.'

Anthea slumped in her chair. ‘Nor would anyone else. When I started reading books about past lives my friends said I was losing my grip. Do you believe in reincarnation?'

Ren shrugged. ‘How can we believe or not believe in something we have no way of knowing? What I know is that people who do believe in it always stress one thing. They say that when something comes up in this life, it needs to be dealt with in this life. It is the present we need to focus on, not the past.'

‘The present?'

‘They believe sometimes the present can heal the past.'

Anthea sat for some time as if trying to understand what Ren had said. Then she set off again in a rush. ‘Anyway, it was because of all this that I started thinking about bones. The ancient Greeks attached a lot of importance to bones. Cities went to war with each other to have the bones of a particular hero buried on their patch. In the prehistoric Cyclades and Crete at some cemeteries they piled up the skulls. Greek traditions involved doing rituals and stuff with parts of the skeletons. But in the West now we have no respect for them. Skeletons are the raw material of horror. And the ones in museums, how would those people feel about being gawped at by strangers? Were they asked for permission?

‘And the animals we eat. If you have a pet dog or cat that dies, you bury it in the garden. But a cow or a pig can have its bones chopped up and scattered through a dozen different homes. And the bones get thrown away with the rubbish. Is that the way to treat the remains of a living creature with consciousness? So at home when the others eat meat, I bury the bones in the garden. Chicken drumsticks, leg of pork, shoulder of mutton. Other people don't think it's necessary, but I do. I get teased about that as well.'

Ren asked, ‘Are you aware that you keep putting your hands to your head? And that your whole body has gone tense?'

Anthea took her hands away from her head and sat on them. ‘Tension. Stress. That's why I started going to relaxation classes last summer. For the neck, too. I was getting more migraines. They said it was all that poring over books and ancient objects. They said I should start taking care of my health. Lose some weight. That's why I went.'

‘Did it help?'

‘It did. Bert noticed the difference. He used to remind me to go. “Mum, don't forget your relaxation class today. Breathe lots of air. You'll have so much air you'll come floating to fetch me from school. With an umbrella, like Mary Poppins.” But it was at that class that I had one of the first strange experiences after I got back with the bones.' Anthea stopped as if shocked by the memory.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?'

Anthea hesitated. ‘I'd rather forget it. But the problem is, I can't. I can remember it all in minute detail. Like a photograph. I'll tell you it like that if you can bear to listen.'

‘That's what I'm here for. Take your time.' Ren's eyes rested on her gently.

Anthea clutched handfuls of her bushy red hair on either side and tugged them backwards as if she were trying to smooth them. She looked around the room as if she hoped something would interrupt her. She put her hand on her forehead and took it away again. Then she started at speed:

‘The class was in one of those old stone primary school buildings that they use for adult education. That day, like every time I went to the class, I procrastinated by going into the Ladies first. It had white tiles. There were improvements going on, and the heavy wooden toilet doors had just been re-painted. In a deep maroon red. The paint still smelt. It was so thick and shiny it looked permanently wet. The paper towels had been replaced by one of those machines which waft a bit of tepid air onto your hands and then leave them to get chapped.

‘I always tidied my hair in the mirror while I was putting off going in. The class was called “Stretching and Meditation.” I know all about stretching myself – but that's mentally, not physically. And meditation is scary. Relax your body and open your mind. Who knows what might come up? But I thought it would be good for me. A counterbalance to all that studying ancient things. What point being an expert on ancient incubation practices if you get headaches and have a stiff neck? “Find your way to another world of calm and peace,” the Adult Education blurb had said. Another world? I live in the present, I study the past. What other worlds could there be? That day I was going to find out.

‘In spite of the glossy paint, the building work hadn't changed the look of the old toilets. It was a high, draughty space that suggested some earlier grandeur. The stone window frames reminded me of medieval cloisters. Get on in there, Ant, I said to myself.'

‘Ant?'

‘That's what everybody calls me. Always have done. For short.'

Ren nodded. ‘Please go on.'

‘Am I being too long-winded? I'm telling the whole weird thing like it happened, from the beginning…'

Ren smiled. ‘It's fine.'

‘I picked up my roll of foam and my mineral water and tiptoed into the hall. The class was about to start and the only free area on the floor was a patch drenched by sunshine. It was pouring in from the high arched window opposite. I took that patch. I may look pale and flabby but I can accept a challenge. I decided to brave that blazing light. I spread out the foam and started slowly unwinding and bending my body.

‘The rest of the class were already relaxing and warming up. I'd got to know some of them a bit, but they all looked strange that day. That was part of it. I need to make you see the room. Ruth was sitting beside me. She was elegantly aged and always poised. She was humming quietly under her breath, perhaps she was remembering her younger days as a singer. Her sharp bright eyes were closed, and her high cheekbones and arched brows were like a sculpture of beatific calm. For an English lady, her features were slightly Oriental, and that day she had a faraway look. As if she didn't belong in an old primary school hall.

‘Opposite me, Caroline was purposefully flicking her fingers. Although she was eighty, she was perched in a lotus position, I don't know how she does it. The lines on her face always seemed balanced halfway between pain and laughter, but that day I could see only the pain – as if she was tired of living. Next to her Geoff was lying flat on his back, his grey hair reaching down to his shoulders. He had a light wiry frame and a strong aquiline nose. His accent was rolling Cornish, but that day he looked to me like an ageing warrior on the North American plains. The image was disconcerting, but it wouldn't go away.

‘When I started warming up, Ruth opened her eyes. And they all turned to look at me. As if they all knew something I didn't.

‘“OK class, I see you've been getting limber. That's good.” Our tutor Lee is sort of blond and thirty-something. She's got a worldly manner, there's a touch of a 1920s flapper about her. You could imagine her expounding theories about art and politics while drawing extravagantly on a long cigarette holder. In the present she's turned to the joys of healthy living. Perhaps after other more expensive joys burned themselves out. She's still resolutely flamboyant, but I suspect she's both more sad and more solid than she lets on. “Let's start in standing position now, if you can make it up onto your feet,” she went on. “OK now, a simple stretch to the ceiling.”

‘I heard Caroline sigh from the corner. In our varying and different ways, all of us reached towards the ceiling. Through the high arched windows the sun was soothing my face and body. Lee glanced over at me: “Is the sun in your eyes, Anthea?” She was always formal with me.

‘I told her “I like it.”

‘
Heliotherapia
. That's what they call sun-bathing in Greece. “Sun-therapy.” As if it has healing powers. I wish I saw more of the sun in Greece, instead of the hours in libraries and in the back of museums pouring over trays of ancient pottery. And bones.'

‘The bones are an important part of your studies?'

‘Like I said, they were important to the ancient Greeks. They had a ritual significance in popular culture. Especially certain parts of the human body, like long bones and skulls. In the prehistoric period they were saved and stored. And the interest continued right through to the late classical period. I was reading only yesterday a legend from the 2
^nd
century AD about the bones of Orpheus. They were kept in a special urn on a pillar near the town of Libethra…'

‘Orpheus was a singer, right?'

‘Yes. A mythical singer. There was a prophecy that when his bones were seen by the sun, the town would be destroyed.'

‘And?'

‘One day the pillar was knocked over and the urn broke and the sun did see the bones and then a flood destroyed the town. Pausanias tells the story in his Book Nine.'

Ren nodded. ‘I see.'

‘And my research suggested bones played a part in iatromantic activities. I hope I'm not bewildering you. Where was I? Yes, there was the tutor calling out “Reach, relax.”

‘I was coming up from bending over when I started staring at the tiny particles of dust making patterns in the sunbeam. They're there all the time in the air, but you only see them when they're lit up in a blade of light.

‘The tutor was leading us on through the movements: “Now, loves, let's go into the Chi Gung routine. You know the sequence. Feel the healing energy as you move. Up and round…” I don't think anyone in the class was ever sure what Lee meant by healing energy, but we all followed her obediently. I was always vaguely aware that it felt good. That day particularly. The gestures seemed to sculpt the air, muscles and bones following the path of an ancient discipline. Through the forest of possible movements, these were the ones marked out over the centuries as leading to well-being. I remember I felt as if I was walking through a wood, the sun touching me through the branches.'

Anthea stopped speaking.

‘Is it OK me saying all this?' she asked.

‘You can tell me anything that feels important.'

‘Your leaflet did say “Crisis Counselling”…'

‘That's right.'

Anthea stared hard at her feet in the pink glittery socks, then resumed:

‘“Lie down on your mats,” Lee was saying. “Feel the energy around you. Gently close your eyes. Breathe deeply…” There was nothing unusual but I remember the heat on my face and body. Her voice rose and fell and then it was replaced by music. I drifted away. My body was tingling from the exercises. It was as if my cells wanted to tell a story of their own. Then a peculiar thing happened.

‘I had this picture in my mind that I was walking uphill through trees. I came towards a clearing. There was a small stone building. It was round. Nearby were some other buildings. A group of people standing by a fire. The light was grey, darkness starting to creep in.' Anthea paused. ‘I don't know how to describe what it was like.'

‘Were you dozing?' asked Ren. ‘Was it a dream?'

‘No, no,' said Anthea. ‘It was a strange experience, like being awake but not being where I was lying on the hall floor. I was walking towards the round building, but none of the people took any notice of me. They were looking past me, over my shoulder. When I got closer, I turned to look behind me to see what they were watching. Beyond the trees, beyond a plain, behind a jagged line of distant mountains, there was a red glow on the horizon and a golden semi-circle peering over the edge of the world. It was the last sun of the old day. I turned back. The men were huddled in cloaks, waiting. I heard a goat bleat. There was that twilight stillness, not a leaf moving.

‘Then there was a shout. I saw the goat. A chant started. From his cloak one man pulled a dagger and grasped its horns. The blow was swift and skilful. The animal didn't make a sound but its body went limp under his hand. Blood spurted from its neck. Another man held a bowl to catch the blood. Then the knife went in again, slicing the animal down the middle. There was more blood. I couldn't see what they were doing. Then one of them lifted something. It looked like a human skull.

‘I cried out, I couldn't help myself. They looked in my direction again and this time it was as if they could see me. One of them pointed and said some words in a language I couldn't understand. One of them started towards me, I think it was the one with the knife. I tried to run, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I couldn't move. I turned to face the point of brilliance still there on the horizon. Sharp as a knife point. A blade of golden light reaching across the plain as the day died. I felt the panic rising in my body. I put my hand up to protect myself.

‘“Sun bothering you? I could draw the curtains.” Lee's voice came suddenly from right beside me and my body juddered with shock. I opened my eyes and my hand came down with a thump onto the parquet flooring of the hall. The music had stopped. I said, “Oh, it's fine. I was miles away.”

‘The tutor's face looked dark against the brilliant void. It had no features. My neck felt hot but the rest of my body was shivering. I told myself this whole idea was a mistake. I should have stuck to studying. I knew relaxation could be tricky. Letting myself be vulnerable, unprotected. The minute the class ended, I rolled up my foam mattress and fled out of that building.

‘On the way back I bought myself two currant buns and wolfed them down. When I got home I was out of breath and I went straight to the kitchen and raided the fridge. I finished off a pot of humus and a whole carton of olives, to calm my nerves. I knocked over a jug and broke it. I couldn't see properly because of a migraine coming on. I had to go and lie in bed with the curtains drawn for the rest of the day, while a sledgehammer hurled itself round inside my head.