Blinded by the Light

by Sherry Ashworth

  Fletcher and I fell into step together at an easy pace. “How have you found working in the shop?” he asked me.

  “Fine, but there’s not a great deal to do. And I’ve Attracted no one.” I was a little ashamed of that fact.

  “I know. The shop is only a halfway house. I don’t believe it’s your final destination. Has your purity stood firm?”

  “Pretty much. One morning I did stop to read the poster about the film on at the Picture House.”

  Fletcher was silent for a bit. “Nothing else?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” This was the truth. The shop had simply reinforced my belief that the old world was sordid and confused and rather pointless. I didn’t feel like rejoining it. I had done nothing that did not befit a White One. The daydream I had didn’t count. It was the one where the door opened and Gemma walked in, or my mum, or Dad. I made up this story they’d driven to Hebden Bridge for a walk around, saw the shop and fancied something in the window and then they came in and saw me and…

  “Have you ever thought, Joe, why those who have attained Perfection choose to return and walk among us?”

  I liked these kinds of theological puzzles. “When you think about it, it’s weird. Because to be at one with the Light is all you could ever desire. So maybe it’s to spread the word here. Like, part of what being Perfect means, is to wish to create more Perfection.”

  “A good answer. To emulate a Perfect, then, no White One should think only of his or her own Perfection as if that were the ultimate end. What we do affects others, and should affect others. That’s why our dealings with other White Ones must always be calculated to work towards their Perfection. We must think about each other’s good.”

  “Completely!” I agreed vehemently. That was the side of being a White One that I liked. I followed Fletcher as he turned down a rutted footpath towards the moors. I kind of hoped we could climb up to the top where the television mast was, and get over to the other side. Just to explore.

  “And you can say that in all your communication with your brothers and sisters, you have been of profit to them?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  Fletcher didn’t respond to that. I felt sure there was a criticism hovering somewhere. I knew it was up to me to guess what it was and own it – White Ones never criticised each other. They only facilitated self-reflection.

  “Will and I get on well together. We study and pray. I can’t think…”

  “Have you always been pure with your sisters?”

  I looked down, pretending that I needed to watch my step. I focused on my dirty trainers and concentrated on trying to avoid clumps of grass. Then I realised by not answering Fletcher’s question directly I had in fact answered it indirectly I had implied I had not always been pure – and that he had guessed about Bea and me. Christ – it wasn’t difficult! Now I dreaded what was coming. I remembered what Auriel had said and desperately began praying that it would all turn out all right. Like the coward that I was, I retreated to a safe island.

  “I haven’t broken my vow of physical purity,” I said. I could hear my pleading tone and hated myself for it. Still Fletcher did not respond. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” I added, sounding more pathetic than ever. Where had my courage gone?

  And then I couldn’t stand it any longer, couldn’t stand the horrible pressure of the fact I was keeping a secret from Fletcher, and more than anything I wanted to spit it all out, confess everything, start from the beginning, fill the vacuum around us. And as weird as this might sound, for that moment I wanted Fletcher to reprimand me, to rip out my feelings for Bea from my chest, to make me clean again. Just then Bea wasn’t real but Fletcher was. With a horrible sense of inevitability I knew this was the end of the road for me and Bea. I hoped she would understand. Perhaps it just had to be this way. As long as Fletcher did nothing to hurt her. It was my lowest moment. I took a deep breath, let it out, and began.

  “I’ve got involved with Bea,” I said. “I know she’s involved with me too. Maybe I’ve encouraged it. I’ve allowed myself to think about her in the wrong way, the way I would have thought about her in the old world. Fletcher, I don’t know what to do.”

  He still didn’t speak, but I glanced at him and his face was tight, his lips compressed. I feared the worst and wanted the worst to happen so it was over with. He made for a hillock, and sat there. There was a small amount of room by his side and he invited me to join him. I looked down at the tufted grass and saw it wasn’t damp. Gingerly I eased myself down. I was aware of the very close proximity we were in, hip to haunch. It had this effect on me – like I wanted him to hug me, reassure me, tell me he still liked me. I wanted his arm round my shoulders. I couldn’t stand the gulf of silence between us.

  “I’d suspected this,” he said. Sitting so close to him, I could feel a tremor travel through his body. Then he asked me, “Do you love her?”

  It wasn’t a question I had anticipated so my answer was spontaneous. “Yes,” I replied.

  “I thought so.”

  “Is it permitted?” I asked.

  Fletcher was breathing heavily from the exertion of the walk.

  “It is permitted,” he said.

  What? What was permitted? That I could carry on loving Bea? Or even more? That we could have a real relationship? What did Fletcher mean? I wanted him to be more specific, to spell it out.

  “What is permitted?”

  “If you need her,” Fletcher said, “then you must have her.”

  Wild joy filled me. My love for Bea surged back, and I loved Fletcher too, and Will and Auriel and Nick and Kate and everyone I could think of. I knew it – I knew I was right to live among the White Ones. The dark, worm-like doubts I had been having secretly squirmed and died. I could live Perfectly, love Bea and be among the company I cared for most. I was right to put my fate in Fletcher’s hands. Surrender was good.

  Fletcher spoke again. “You should tell me everything, Joe.”

  “I will,” I assented eagerly.

  “That’s good,” he said. “Because I’d been considering sending Bea with you when you next Attract. I will, if you keep no secrets from me about your relationship with her. You need to confide in me, for your own sake. Anyway, you can go nowhere alone. I don’t want to risk your personal safety at this stage. And now Nick and Kate can no longer work together we need a new male/female pair.”

  I could hardly believe this. Bea and I together – Attracting! We would have time alone together and do good work. I’d been right to confess to Fletcher – he wanted nothing but my welfare and Bea’s welfare.

  “Stand up,” he said to me.

  I did so. Fletcher got up too and stood in front of me. He placed his fingers on his lips then moved them to my forehead.

  “May you be a vessel of enlightenment to all who you meet. May the Light shine upon you. If you should be who I think you are, may the Light forgive me for my ignorance. May you light me in my Darkness.”

  His fingers were hot on my forehead and as he spoke they pressed more and more heavily. My skin throbbed under them.

  “May we both be enlightened,” he said. Then he stepped back and regarded me – really looked hard at me – and I flinched under his gaze. His mouth curled with the suggestion of a smile, an intimate, knowing smile. For a moment I was afraid of him and wanted to get moving again and get back to the farm. There was something intense in his expression that prevented me from returning his gaze. A nerve jumped in my face. Then I quickly looked up at him and saw – no – it wasn’t sweat on his brow. Those were tears. Fletcher was crying. There were tears escaping from him.

  “May it be my lot to achieve Perfection,” he said, his voice breaking.

  I was scared, exhilarated, and feeling quite weak. Fletcher wiped the tears from his eyes and did not refer to them.

  “Come on,” he said. “We must be heading back.”

  I fell into step beside him.

  12.

  From Rendall’s Laws G
overning Purity: Degrees of Passion

  Passion is permitted to White Ones; indeed, passion is our aim. But there are degrees of passion. The lowest is the passion between man and woman, an animal passion which consumes itself Next is the passion between man and man, a devotion which, if used correctly, may assist purity. Higher still is the passion a man may experience alone, in meditation, in contemplation of the Light. Highest of all is that which we all desire, the passion of utter purity, the passion we experience on merging with the Light at our final Elevation. The moment of Elevation cannot be spoken of in a way that would make it intelligible to those still living. This bliss waits for you, like a lover hungry for the touch and scent of the beloved. Know this: you are not yet born. This, too: fear nothing. And this: the end of days is to be desired.

  The first person who I looked for when I got back to the farm was Bea. I found her taking Auriel back from the bathroom – Auriel was blindfolded now and needed assistance. Presumably Kate thought some ASD would help her. But to me, for a moment, she looked liked a prisoner: shaven head, blindfolded, led by the hand. The delusion passed. I noticed Bea was wearing gloves – for her it was only a touch-deprived day. She wore the rough linen ones the girls had made for all of us to wear. Once Bea had taken Auriel back to the Reading Room, I indicated I needed to speak to her urgently. She followed me out to the allotments where luckily no one was around.

  “It’s OK,” I told her.

  “What’s OK?”

  “Us. I’ve been speaking to Fletcher. I’ve got some news. Look, I told him everything, I explained how I felt about you. And he was absolutely all right about it. I forget his exact words. But the gist was, he doesn’t see our relationship as a distraction from our journey to enlightenment. There isn’t a problem. I feel great about this. I wanted you to know. And there’s something else.”

  I could hear myself babbling, not giving Bea a chance to respond.

  “So you told him. I thought we’d agreed—”

  I cut in. “But it was for the best. Because he acknowledged us, our relationship, and said we could go out Attracting – together! Together, Bea. We can have everything. It’s what we wanted.”

  Slowly Bea began to smile. I took both her hands, cursed the gloves that meant I couldn’t feel her, and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “Are you happy?” I asked her.

  She nodded silently The afternoon sunlight made her hair look golden. Fletcher had said I could have her. That made me feel kind of powerful, macho, stronger than I knew myself to be. It was good.

  During the next few weeks I only went down to Hebden Bridge twice a week. For the rest of time I helped the guys build an outhouse which was going to be a meditation chapel. It was hard work and my hands developed calluses from all the digging. Most nights when I went to bed my back ached like an old man’s. Services, study sessions and celebrations provided a welcome break. The familiar words of Rendall’s Book, our prayers and readings were so comforting they sometimes sent me to sleep. Fletcher was keen I should step up my ASD. I hardly had a moment of leisure – no space to think, even – and the times I spent with Bea were short and snatched. But I was happy, I think. Apart from my dreams, but Fletcher said dreams were like a sewerage system for antimatter. Bad stuff seeped out in the night. Stuff about my parents, Gemma, scenes from the past. Once I woke up and I had been crying. Fletcher said that was proof absolute that bad old matter was draining away, like pus. Whatever. I was so tired some days I would have accepted anything. I just hoped for a change, any change.

  And it came. What I think kick-started it was the letter from my parents. Fletcher called me to his room one morning. He was sitting on his bed, the letter in his hand. But I’m rushing ahead here. I didn’t know at that point the letter was from my parents. He beckoned me over and I sat by him. He put the letter down a little way from us and put his arm round my shoulder.

  “You’ve got a decision to make, Joe.”

  “OK,” I said. I waited to hear what the decision was and what Fletcher thought I should do about it.

  “I’ve got here a letter from your parents.” Now I glanced quickly at the letter and saw Fletcher had put it back in the envelope. I noticed it was addressed to me. Fletcher had opened it. He had that right. “They say that Bristol University have asked you to confirm you’ll be taking up your place there next month. They want to come and talk to you about it.”

  A tremor went through me which Fletcher felt too. He tightened the pressure of his arm, then removed it.

  “What shall we do?” he asked me.

  I couldn’t believe I had forgotten about Bristol. But I had. This reminder of what I had planned was a bolt from the blue. My first thought was that I couldn’t go because I hadn’t done any academic work for so long. I was totally unprepared. But then I realised that always at the back of my mind I’d imagined myself going to Bristol, as a White One, Attracting, maybe, coming back to Lower Fold in the holidays. Only I couldn’t cope if I was away from Bea, away from Fletcher and Will and everyone. I hadn’t realised how much they would all come to mean to me. The thought of Bristol scared me. I would be on my own. I’d forgotten what that was like. And what if I went, and I was tempted? Better not risk it. I wanted to stay where I was. And while I was thinking all of this there was a whispering voice in my head, saying, what’s happening to you, Joe? What’s happening?

  “I’m not going to Bristol, Fletch.”

  “That’s OK.”

  “You see, my Perfection has to be my primary concern. Just now I feel I’m making progress. Two days ago – you know, when I did my triple ASD – things really began to come together. You remember that vision I had, the light streaming in and illuminating caverns, and how the caverns looked like the tissue of my brain – I’d never experienced anything like that before. My journey lies here. Bristol is part of the old me. I’ve moved on.”

  “I’m glad,” Fletcher said. “I think you’d better write to your parents and I’ll post the letter.”

  I did, there and then, and thought when I rang them at the weekend I’d explain why I’d chosen not to go in more detail. I hadn’t seen them for a month or so. The last time was ugly – there was shouting and tears. Mine, theirs, I forgot whose. I tried not to think about it. It was better not to. Then I filled out the slip the uni had sent me. I noticed I was shaking while I did that. I guessed the shaking must have been muscle cramps, the result of all the hard labour.

  “Take the rest of the day off,” Fletcher said. “I want you to build your strength up.”

  I loved Fletcher then. He understood my needs so well. He was a better parent than my parents. I went from his room back to the dormitory, made for my bed, and lay there, my mind spinning until the exhaustion in my arms and legs spread through my whole body, and I slept.

  I woke up suddenly, late afternoon. Jerked awake. I don’t know why that was. And a thought slammed into my head. What if the White Ones were wrong? What if everything was made up? What if it was all nonsense? I felt myself go cold. My stomach clenched tight.

  Joe, Joe, use your reason. This works, the way of the Light is right. Here there’s love and harmony, people supporting you all the time. There’s meaning in what we all do. So much has been written by so many – they can’t all be wrong. You have everything you need here. United we are invincible. Treat your doubts like arrows that miss their target and fall away. May it be my lot to achieve Perfection. May it be my lot to achieve Perfection. My it be my lot to…

  It was because I’d rested. The trick was to keep busy, to keep moving forward. I’d better help with the bricklaying. But Fletcher had said I could have the rest of the day off, that I needed to build up my strength. I felt my pulse return to normal. I began to appreciate just lying there, doing nothing. Then I tensed again as I heard the door to the dormitory open.

  “Joe?”

  It was Bea’s voice. I answered her immediately. She came running over.

  “Joe! Are you all right? Auriel
said she thought you might be ill.”

  I sat up on my bed.

  “No. Fletcher’s given me the day off. I was sleeping. Come here.” She got on the bed with me, I put my arm around her, and we both marvelled at our good luck in having some time and a place to ourselves. I told Bea about Bristol. She was quiet for a bit.

  “I’m glad you’re not going away, Joe,” she said. “But maybe one day you will go to uni. It’s a shame to waste any ability you’ve got.”

  “I know,” I said. “I thought that. And there will be a time. Just not now.”

  “We’re lucky,” Bea said, after a while, but I thought her voice sounded flat.

  “Are you OK?”

  “A bit low today. Kate said I should go and play my guitar for a bit, but I thought I’d look for you first.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  I nuzzled her face. She turned towards me, and we kissed. It was only the second time we’d kissed, but already she felt completely familiar to me. As our mouths moved together nothing seemed to matter any more, not Bristol, not the White Ones, only us. Nothing else was real. In a moment we were lying on the bed, wholly entangled, our bodies moving against each other, almost despite our will. All my aches had vanished. All I could hear was our breathing. In my hunger for Bea, everything else was blotted out. I stroked her face, her back, and my hands found their way inside her sweatshirt. Her breasts were warm to touch and soft like silk. In my eagerness to hold them firm in my hands, I tried not to hurt her. She kissed me harder than ever. I didn’t care about anything, not even if we were discovered. Then I felt her hands over my trousers, finding my hard-on. She read my mind and then began to unbuckle my zip. I was breathless with excitement. I could hardly believe this was happening, at last. Our kisses got more desperate, deeper and deeper.