“What about people of other nationalities?” she asked.
“Not since I’ve been here,” said Edgar, still staring at her.
“Does Craig support him in his cross-dressing?” she asked. “Or even join him in it?”
“Why d’you want to know this?” he demanded.
“Just thought you might know something of Craig’s background, that’s all,” said Juliet.
A conspiratorial gleam entered his eye. “Digging, aren’t you? For stuff he won’t give you himself?”
“Could be,” she said. “It’s worth a try.”
“I can certainly tell you a thing or two,” he hinted. “But only if you complete my questionnaire.” At this, he jumped up, knocking the microphone out of her hand, and lunged at a well-stuffed concertina folder that had until now stood unnoticed by the occasional table.
“Go easy, Edgar,” she said, getting up too, and bending down to pick up her mike.
Suddenly she found the researcher looming over her, and coming uncomfortably close.
“Edgar, I really don’t think…” she began, trying to veer away from him. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
“Let’s do a deal, you and me,” he said, close to her ear. “I’ll dish the dirt on Craig if you tell me all sorts of personal information about yourself.”
“Certainly not,” she said, rising abruptly to her feet, causing Edgar to lurch across the rug on top of his concertina file. Oh dear, this wasn’t a very good start to her schedule of interviews. “Sorry Edgar, I do apologise,” she said, helping him to his feet. “But if that’s the price, it’s not on.”
“Why so secretive?” he asked, springing to his feet once more, with handfuls of crumpled papers, and turning on her. “Why so fearful?”
“I’m neither of those things. You’ve completely misunderstood me, Edgar,” she said, smoothing her hair down and trying to regain her professional poise. “I’m not afraid of anything. Simply concerned to remain objective.”
“Ha!” he cried. “Objective. And yet you’ve already tried to turn up titbits on Craig.”
“Titbits?” she said coolly. “Your word, Edgar. Not mine.”
They both stood, looking at each other, each breathing faster than usual. She didn’t like this at all.
“This is almost like Dynamic Meditation,” he remarked.
She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Find out tonight.” He tapped the side of his nose, and gave her a knowing look.
“Very well, Edgar,” she said. “I’ll do just that.”
Dynamic Meditation took place that evening in the barn. Surely, thought Juliet, as she stood at the rear of the spacious meeting room, with her portable recorder and mike, the original builders of this glorious sixteenth-century tithe barn would never have imagined that such use would ever be made of it. She gazed at the roof, a dazzling criss-cross of beams and wooden vaulting. Yes, the tenant farmer may well have held barn dances; but surely nothing of the nature of what Craig was leading his followers into right now.
By nine o’clock the lights had been dimmed, and the sound of heavy metal music echoed up to the roof trusses, ricocheted off the hayloft and rebounded all around the stone walls. The hayloft, or upper room, could be accessed by two spiral staircases, one at the west side, and one at the east. Juliet had positioned herself beside the foot of the west one. She was trying to make herself heard as she explained her digital recording equipment to Don. Following Llewellyn’s words, he’d clearly felt sufficiently emboldened to try this session, but meant to stay at the back watching and listening.
He moved closer to Juliet in order to hear her words.
“This machine is a Nagra Ares BB Plus,” she said. “I record on flashcards. Each has only about one gig of memory, not that much, so I’ve brought several for all my interviews.”
“And your mike? Will it cope with the noise levels?”
She laughed. “It’s omnidirectional. I’ll hold it as close as possible to Craig when he’s speaking, if I get the chance. Must admit I’m a bit doubtful whether I’ll pick up any speech.”
“Me too,” he said cryptically.
She smiled.
“However,” he continued, “Craig dropped me a few hints. So I steeled myself.”
“Certainly looks and sounds chaotic.” She gazed at the scene in front of her. She suspected that tonight would yield nothing her listeners could make sense of. But her concern for Zoe was far greater. What would her sister get up to with Craig in an atmosphere like this? And as for Craig himself, she’d be watching him very closely; for she found it impossible to believe he wouldn’t take advantage of his position, especially with the women, in such circumstances.
And as if to confirm Juliet’s worst suspicions, Laura, her hair wilder than ever, was already tearing off her cotton print dress. Juliet feared Zoe would soon follow her example. She and Beth, however, had so far both kept their lycra leotards on. But, to Juliet’s confusion, Zoe was curled up in a foetal position in the corner, sobbing as if her heart would break. Should Juliet go over and comfort her? Or was this all part of the Dynamic Meditation and meant to serve a cathartic purpose?
Her instincts told her it was the latter. The other members of the group were scattered across the available floor space, in a variety of postures and states of undress. Several danced; some had curled themselves into tight balls, and others writhed across the flagstone floor like snakes. Juliet followed Craig with her mike, as he strode around amongst them, looking authoritative and crackling with sexual energy, in a bottle-green leather jacket and Levi’s, shouting at each in turn.
She recorded him as best she could, whilst trying to keep an eye on Zoe. But her sister, it seemed, won no more from him than anybody else; and neither did Laura or Beth. To Craig’s credit, and Juliet’s mystification, he seemed to share his attention equally.
His attention consisted largely of a verbal lashing. With each person he varied his remarks, depending, as he explained to Juliet a little later, upon their emotional situation. At Beth, who clearly had a problem with self-esteem, he hurled personal abuse; when Sam confessed fear and timidity, he compelled him to imagine the kind of exposure he most dreaded; finding Oleg full of anger, he provoked him to an even higher level of rage. The Slav then strode over to Beth and accosted her. Juliet watched closely. She’d already picked up emotions simmering between these two. What would happen now, in this overwrought situation?
But before she could satisfy her curiosity, her attention was distracted. Laura, in a desperate attention-seeking measure, had finally peeled off her lacy knickers. But even this failed to win a special response from the group leader. However, the same could not be said of Al. Laura then gave herself over to what looked like a Dionysian frenzy. Edgar rolled around the floor giggling hysterically, creating a surreal effect with his monastic appearance. James, too, added to the madness of the scene by kicking his legs in the air and screaming like a child having a tantrum in a high-street store, without any regard to the state of his tailored trousers or natty cravat.
The only question in Juliet’s mind was at which point one of the men would snap, leap onto Laura, and sexually assault her. Or settle for Craig instead, as some, in her view, might well do. She’d already begun forming opinions about their sexuality. It was when she began to focus on Craig’s, that she felt ambivalent. He was supposed to love her sister. But… Her mind went foggy beyond this. All she knew was it was a big but.
Meanwhile, miraculously, here in the feverish atmosphere of the barn, no assault, sexual or otherwise, ever happened.
Oleg now seemed to be performing t’ai chi; James was grinning inanely and blowing bubbles, and Al, who’d begun the evening in a benign frame of mind, was beating his head against the wall.
At this point Craig turned the music off, and Juliet hurried across to him with the mike. Before she could speak he plunged himself into a lotus posture, and apparently into a state of deep meditation. Meanwhile, the participant
s lay around weeping or working out their distress in whichever way seemed best, or emerging slowly from hysteria. So Juliet moved among the group members instead with her mike, though there seemed no need to ask any of them to describe their feelings to her. Eventually all sounds faded into silence. Juliet set her Nagra on automatic voice-activated recording. Craig allowed stillness to reign for several minutes. Then he opened his eyes, stood up, and, looking around among his followers, began to speak.
“This Centre has been going for exactly fourteen months tonight. Fourteen months from the day James and I moved in. In the time that’s elapsed since then, the Wheel of Love has become a tribute to the dynamic power of change.”
“Who has changed?” asked Juliet. “And in what way?”
“Guilt has gone,” announced Craig. “Feeling bad about yourself because of the negative messages you once received, is in the past. Your former life can no longer hold you. All that matters is now.”
His glance swept once more around the meeting space. “By coming here and joining us, you’ve shown you correctly identify your longing. You recognise your birthright. And you want to regain your inheritance. You seek spiritual experience in your own bodies. We all do. I’ll guide you to a place where you can say, not I believe but I know.”
Absolute concentration gripped the members of the group.
Then he said, “Remember, we create our own reality. That’s what I taught you. And what I stand by.”
The expression in his eyes intensified, as for a moment they settled on Juliet. Then they moved to the middle distance again. “What you give out, you receive back. Simple as that, once you’ve learned to understand and harness the universal system. Your new life starts here.”
With that he dismissed them all.
Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as Laura started putting her clothes on again.
She found herself intensely curious about Craig’s failure to react to Laura’s exhibitionism. The first obvious explanation that sprang into her mind – that he was gay – just didn’t ring true. Other facts went against it. The group members, of course, were distracted by their own emotional states. But not so Craig. He’d been perfectly poised and centred throughout. She found herself gazing at him wonderingly.
“What a relief,” said Don. “One thing’s for sure. I feel drained. And all I’ve done is watch.”
Juliet moved across to Al with her mike. “How d’you feel, Al?” she asked.
The American looked relaxed and in good humour, and walked with a spring in his step. “Great, Juliet,” he said. “You should have given it a go.”
Juliet then looked for Beth and Oleg. Had they resolved anything between them? She wouldn’t find out tonight. Both seemed to have made a quick exit.
“And you, Laura?” she queried.
“Totally purged,” said Laura. “You must join in next time, darling. It would have done you the world of good.”
Zoe joined them. “Fantastic,” she cried. “I was afraid I might curl up in humiliation and die. But not at all. I feel a hundred miles high.”
Juliet held her mike in front of Llewellyn. “Amazing,” he declared, and pranced along the path like a mountain goat. “I must rush back to my room. I have a brilliant idea for a new poem.”
“Good for you,” grumbled Don as they reached the path leading to the goose house.
“Will you have a go next time, Don?” asked Juliet.
“You joking?” he said. “I’m off to bed.” And with that, he turned right.
“Good night, Don,” cried Laura.
“Join in next time,” called Al. “It’ll blow you away.”
Once back in her room, Juliet collapsed onto her bed, and spent several minutes trying to understand what she’d witnessed. She had mixed feelings about the behaviour of the group members. On the one hand, she thought they were all totally out of their minds. On the other, she recognised that some who’d taken part claimed they’d benefited.
But, how could it be right for Laura to dance naked among all those men? Juliet had seen the way Al reacted, but Craig had completely disregarded her. How did he respond on other occasions? She imagined Laura’s performance wasn’t a one-off. She wondered, too, about Beth and Zoe, and whether they’d simply chosen not to follow suit tonight.
And did Craig love Zoe, as she’d implied, or was all the love on her side only? He’d given her no special attention. Juliet felt confused. At that moment her mobile buzzed.
“Juliet? It’s Don.”
“Hi, Don.” What did he have to say that couldn’t wait until morning? But she was grateful he’d rung. She needed somebody to talk to.
“What d’you make of tonight?” he asked.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I agree.”
Thank God. The only other sane person here. But… “Some of Craig’s claims make sense,” she said.
“Which ones?” asked Don.
She thought about this. “Before he left the dining room earlier, he said something about bad emotions, which we need to express in order to be rid of them.”
“Do you believe that?” he snorted.
“I’m not sure whether I do, but I feel mixed up.”
“Which means,” Don said, “that part of you thinks it could be true?”
“They believe it works…”
“Course they do. They’ll believe anything.”
“Placebo effect?”
“Yes. That’s what I put it down to.”
Both fell silent for a few moments.
“Well, Don,” she said, “what shall I try tomorrow morning?”
“The Dream Yoga walk.”
“Dream Yoga? What’s that?”
He chuckled. “Go on it and find out. Then tell me.”
When the group gathered around Craig at the back door at six a.m., Juliet was encouraged by the brightness and freshness of the sky. A steady heat, enlivened by a crisp breeze, ensured that most walkers had chosen T-shirts and shorts this morning.
Craig, in bushwalking khakis, swept his arm out over to the north west, where a fence separated the car park from a thick stand of horse chestnuts and field maples. “That’s where we’re going today.”
Juliet spotted a footpath accessed by a stile. Beyond the trees, the side of the valley rose steeply through pasture to a wooded ridge. Her concentration returned to Craig, who was now telling the group that the first part of the walk was to be conducted in silence.
So that meant she wouldn’t get the chance to quiz Zoe further on what she really felt about last night.
Craig led his followers along a track that disappeared among the trees. Zoe walked way ahead of Juliet, who couldn’t see whether or not her sister was sticking close to Craig. Beth, she noticed, seemed to be missing, though Oleg was present. Everything about him suggested depression, even his tired-looking floppy beige hat. So much for the effect of last night’s Dynamic Meditation.
They tramped for several minutes, sometimes through dense undergrowth that contained a lot of bramble, and eventually emerged on the top of the ridge. A glorious panorama of hills and fields spread out before them. But Craig didn’t allow them long to admire it. He instructed them to gather round.
“This is where it gets interesting,” murmured Zoe to Juliet, before Juliet moved forward to put her mike in front of Craig’s mouth.
“Now, in a moment I’ll ask you to start walking again,” said Craig. “But this time I want you to walk backwards. Don’t turn round. Just trust me. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Juliet shot him a look. He seemed serious. And they were all obeying. She had no option other than to join them, sticking close to Craig so she could be ready with the mike for his next utterance.
After about ten minutes of this, Craig’s voice rang out again. “That’s it, everyone. Stop. Who found it difficult to trust me? Who struggled with an urge to look behind, to check they weren’t going to crash into anything, or fall over a sheer drop? Laura? Sam? Zoe? As I expected.
And who thought it was extremely silly? Juliet? Good. You’re here to unlearn everything you’ve been taught to believe about the world and how to behave in it, from the moment you were born.”
Juliet caught sight of Oleg. He was in deep gloom.
She stepped aside with her mike. “You don’t look enthralled, Oleg,” she said. But before he could reply, Craig’s voice cut in again and she swung round once more.
“See that beech tree? Look at the very topmost branch. Concentrate on those leaves. Next, imagine a spot in the centre of your forehead. Visualise a silver cord extending from it, reaching out, further and further, and finally connecting you to the leaves at the top of the tree. Keep your eyes on them. Now walk very slowly toward it, never letting your eyes drop.”
Juliet joined them, unable to notice the reactions of the people around her until they’d completed the exercise. Then Craig seated himself on a fallen trunk, and asked how they’d felt when asked to do it, and during the walk; and whether those feelings had changed now they’d stopped. Juliet could detect no sign of dissent among them, apart from Oleg, who continued to look miserable. He seemed to be weighed down by some heavy problem; she resolved to get him to open up about it as soon as she had the chance.
Craig sprang from the fallen log. “I want you to do this every day. As you walk around, think: This is a dream. Whatever you’re doing, say to yourself: I’m dreaming this. Any questions?”
Juliet looked around, mike at the ready. Silence. Surely, someone other than herself must have doubts? But nobody expressed any. Were she and Don the only people in this community who still saw things from the perspective of the outside world?
“This,” said Craig, “is part of my strategy to teach you all the art of lucid dreaming. Remember, if you master this art – the art of knowing you’re in the middle of a dream, and then taking command of the dream at that point – I tell you, if you master this art, death will be a breeze.”
Not one of his followers spoke, or moved. A dreamlike quality had settled upon them all.
Craig spoke again. “If you follow what I’ve taught you this morning, lucid dreaming will become second nature. And, I might add, one of our number has already had a lucid dream.”
Mystical Circles Page 7
