‘Great news!’ she smiled, standing over her son with the medicine-glass in one hand and the Thermos in the other.
‘Oh, really?’ Daniel was unconvinced. His own definition of ‘great news’ would be Penny agreeing to leave this place and spend a month in Rome instead, with no hangers-on, no threesomes; or a scientific breakthrough proving nicotine to be highly beneficial; or a guarantee from the Great Roué in the Sky that he would never lose his erection in his life again.
‘We’re going to have a healing session,’ Claire announced triumphantly. ‘This evening, after supper. And guess who Blue wants there?’
‘You and Rick?’
‘Yes! Who else?’
‘Er, let’s see – how about Margot and George?’
‘Gosh, you’re clever, Daniel! That’s absolutely right. Who else though?’
‘I’ve no idea. I assumed everyone could wander along if they chose.’
‘Oh, no! Blue can’t concentrate with so many different energies – some of them might oppose his. Healing works at a very subtle level, you see, so he has to be careful that his channels don’t get blocked. One last guess – go on!’
‘Um …’ Daniel frowned, trying to recall the circle of faces at lunch. ‘I know! Jeanette and Len’s daughter. What’s her name? Sharon?’
Claire shook her head, beaming in delight. ‘No, your daughter, Daniel – and you!’
Chapter Eighteen
Daniel removed his muddy shoes and placed them with the other footwear which had been left outside the tepee. Then he ducked in through the entrance, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Pippa was still behind him and hadn’t taken to her heels and fled. The instant he stepped in he was lassoed by a circle of faces, assailed by murmured greetings. Why so many people here, when Claire had mentioned only six? She gave a cheery wave and he stumbled gratefully towards her; sat down on the dirty folded duffel coat she had saved as a cushion for him. He shuffled up to make room for Pippa; introduced her to those who hadn’t met her yet, praying he’d remember their names. Her shyness only increased his own. Her face was scarlet beneath the freckles as she mumbled her ‘hellos’.
‘And this is Rick,’ he concluded. The boy was sprawled beside his mother, picking little bits of fuzz from his sweater and rolling them in balls between his fingers. ‘Or do you prefer Richard?’
‘Don’t mind,’ Rick shrugged, scrambling up to a sitting position and darting a sidelong glance at Pippa. ‘Dad calls me Richard when he’s mad with me.’
They all laughed except Pippa, who had shrunk even further into herself, and had actually cut Rick dead by deliberately turning her back on him. Couldn’t she make an effort, Daniel fumed? Claire had been so friendly towards him, this was no way to repay her. Rick slumped down on his rug again, chewing at his thumb.
‘Rick’s thirteen, like you, Pippa,’ Daniel continued doggedly. ‘And he lives in Wales, not far from here.’
Still she didn’t respond. She had drawn up her legs, clasped her hands around them, and put her head down on her knees; her body language signalling complete shut-off and withdrawal. Daniel’s self-control was stretched to breaking point. This was downright rudeness, not just shyness. ‘Pippa, I’m speaking to you,’ he rapped.
There was no reaction whatever, but he sensed her silent rejoinder: Shut up and go away!
‘She’s got her mother’s lovely hair, I see,’ Doris put in tactfully. She was sitting next to Pippa, her wasted frame supported by nothing more than a single flimsy cushion. On her other side was Gerard, still wretched with his cold, then George and Margot, looking peeved, Dylan, with wet hair, and a woman he’d never seen before, wearing a pink home-knitted cardigan over what looked like a nightdress.
‘I thought you said there were only going to be six of us?’ he whispered to Claire, deciding to ignore Pippa for the present.
‘There were,’ Claire whispered back. ‘I can’t understand why Blue’s called in these others, or where on earth he’s disappeared to.’ She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes – undoubtedly her most attractive feature, being luminous and large, though they were screwed up at the moment in dismay. ‘And we should be in the Healing Dome, not here. It’s got much better vibes.’
This was the nearest she had come to criticizing the master, though he didn’t share her objections. As far as he was concerned, the more people there, the less conspicuous he and Pippa would be, which was definitely an advantage. As for the healer’s late arrival, well, the later the better – just so long as he wasn’t dallying with Penny. (It was difficult to know which was the more galling: the thought of Penny snuggling up to Corinna, or lying in the Wanker’s hirsute arms.) The change of venue from Healing Dome to Rainbow Lodge was also to his liking, since he found the former claustrophobic and loathed the reek of incense. He was happier here in the tepee, with its memory of that first night’s blissful sleep, which still seemed quite extraordinary.
On that occasion, he’d hardly noticed his surroundings – simply sunk into the black balm of unconsciousness – but now he had a chance to look around. The central fire had been banked down and was only gently smouldering, but there was a stack of fresh-cut logs beside it, and an ancient kettle steaming on a trivet. The canvas, dirty-grey inside, was hung with shawls and rugs, which gave colour and a sense of warmth; one especially striking batik depicted a vibrant purple sun above a golden mountain peak. To the right of the entrance, a tray of chipped mugs sat balanced on a crate, with various jars labelled Barley Cup, or Fig and Millet ‘Coffee’, plus a few large battered cake-tins, which (he remembered with distaste) were used to store Happy’s specialities – damp and sugarless flapjacks, dry and fatless cakes. Opposite stood a sort of makeshift altar, which seemed more a shrine to Nature than to any God he recognized, being heaped with flowers and fruits – mostly wilting buttercups and knobbly mottled apples, but also a bunch of whiskered grasses and some overripe red plums. Stones and pebbles had been arranged around the edges of the altar, and three gleaming magpie feathers were stuck in an empty jam jar. Another, smaller, jar held a single plain white candle, which, though unlit at present, had drooled writhing coils of wax down its sides. The whole thing looked amateurish, yet was also quaintly touching, as if constructed by an eager child as an offering to its teacher.
‘And how’s the poor dog getting on?’ Doris asked Pippa brightly, trying to break through her reserve.
Pippa, hunched up blind and deaf, gave no sign that she had heard, so Daniel answered for her, mumbling some inanity. No one else was talking much, and the atmosphere seemed strained – hushed like church, but with a growing air of restlessness as still the healer didn’t come. Daniel wondered how long the others had been waiting. He had turned up late himself because it had taken time and tact to prise Pippa from her precious dog. Bernard had rolled in some cow-dung and Pippa had volunteered to clean him up, then been highly indignant at having to leave the job unfinished. He wished to God they’d start the proceedings, for her sake as much as his. He could imagine what she was thinking: ‘I could have cleaned up half a dozen dogs by now. We’re just stuck here doing nothing.’
He looked down at his watch, only to realize for the umpteenth time that it wasn’t on his wrist. Now he understood why no clocks and watches were allowed – it forestalled all protest about exactly how much time was wasted, since people could only guess the length of the delays. In the sequestered gloom of the tepee there was no means of telling if the sun was going down or not. They were cut off from time and weather, and even the noises of the camp were muted by the thick canvas.
By way of diversion, he scanned his companions’ feet, which, in their shoeless state, provided an intriguing guide to each person’s state of mind. George’s – large and clad in navy woollen socks – were drumming angrily, while Dylan’s, bare and slender, betrayed his nervousness, clinging to each other for mutual comfort and support. Gerard, sporting short white socks, kept clenching up his toes, as if his partner’s apprehens
ion had afflicted him as well. Doris had misshapen feet, but they rested serenely side by side, whereas Rick’s dirty grass-stained pair twitched and jiggled constantly – in sharp contrast to Pippa, whose whole body remained ominously still. His daughter appeared to have closed down altogether, which provoked in him a feeling of mingled resentment and despair. He reached out to touch her arm, made a jokey remark about earning Brownie points with his long stint of washing-up, but she only flinched and moved huffily away.
He turned to Claire in desperation, but she too seemed on edge. ‘You know, I’m getting really worried about Blue,’ she said. ‘Suppose something awful’s happened – an accident, or … I mean, why should he summon us all for a session, then not turn up himself?’
‘He’s here!’ cried Gerard, and everyone fell silent, listening to the footsteps just outside, then a scuffle of shoes being taken off and dropped. A frisson of expectancy rippled round the tent, and all except Pippa sat up straighter. Even Daniel caught the general mood; felt Claire’s relief in particular wash over him like a wave.
‘Hi, everyone!’ a breezy voice announced, and a bearded face thrust itself through the flaps – grey hair thick and curly, complexion ruddy with a drinker’s broken veins. Tony from Leeds, the owner of the injured dog, which limped in after him. His wife Judith brought up the rear – a plump and kindly woman with salt-and-pepper hair escaping from its bun, and eyes so intensely blue they looked younger than the rest of her.
Their friendly smiles were not universally returned. Claire, for one, made no pretence at hiding her disappointment, while George, muttering to himself about the squash, grudgingly made room for Tony’s fifteen stone. But the effect on Pippa was startling. Instantly, she uncurled and came to life, jumping up to embrace the dog, as if they had been parted half a lifetime instead of half an hour. She left her place next to Daniel to sit between Judith and Tony, speaking to them in a perfectly normal fashion, and even managing a smile. The boxer settled at her feet, his coat still damp; the dressing on his wounded leg covered with a sock. Daniel recognized the sock as one of Pippa’s – her favourite pair, in fact, which he had bought for her himself: black and yellow stripes with bumble-bees round the top. Bernard was chewing at it impatiently, but Pippa gently restrained him, petting him and stroking him and whispering blandishments in his ear.
Daniel could hardly bear to watch. He had spent most of the afternoon brooding on his wife’s defection, and now he had the same unpleasant feeling of being excluded and rejected, but this time by his daughter. He wasn’t so much jealous of the dog (though its impressive male equipment was conspicuously on show), but of the way that Pippa had bonded with its owners, as if they were her rightful parents. He had felt it straight away, the first time he’d seen them together – the way she seemed to trust them, relaxing in their company as she never did with him these days. Okay, Judith was the sort of woman nobody could fail to like, easy-going, affectionate and motherly, but what on earth did Pippa see in Tony – a bearded slob with a jolly (jarring) laugh and a maddening habit of cracking his fingers and addressing everyone as ‘love’? Yet there was Pippa, literally rubbing shoulders with him, while studiously ignoring the man who’d been her father for the last seven years, in every sense except the biological.
Claire seemed as dispirited as he was, though for rather different reasons. ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered, ‘why Blue had to ask that pair. I mean, how can a dog have the same importance as a person with MS, or someone who’s going blind? I can’t think what he’s up to, or why he isn’t here.’
Daniel found himself in a role reversal, offering sympathy to the woman who had previously listened to his troubles. Rick was no help at all, now openly rebellious and threatening to walk out if they didn’t get a move on. Then suddenly the woman in the nightdress began a loud and rambling conversation with an invisible companion. Every eye swivelled round to look at her, but she continued unconcerned, nodding and smiling to herself as the stream of aimless prattle burbled on. The two gays were looking horribly embarrassed, while George and Margot exchanged glances of distaste, and Rick was unable to suppress his giggles as he watched in fascination. Daniel cleared his throat, fighting a wild urge to escape. Here was madness, real and unadulterated, and again he was too close to it, frightened it might taint him. He liked well-defined boundaries between things – sanity and madness on each side of a deep divide – but since he’d set foot in this outlandish place, the divisions in his own mind were becoming perilously confused. He blessed the resourceful Doris, who saved the situation by suggesting that the woman might like a breath of air, and leading her out of the lodge. She went willingly but volubly, leaving a silence pregnant with unspoken questions – who was she, and should she be here at all when the healer already had his hands full with more conventional cases?
It was George who finally broke the silence, remarking to Margot in what he intended as a whisper, but which was clearly audible, ‘Phew! That dog does smell.’
‘He doesn’t!’ Pippa retorted. ‘He’s just a bit damp, that’s all.’
‘Wet dogs always pong a bit,’ Tony put injovially. ‘You should have smelt him earlier on, George! He’d rolled in something unspeakable – hadn’t you, Bernard old chap?’
The dog pricked up his ears at the sound of his name, and Pippa laid her cheek against his flank, kissing him and telling him what a lovely darling boy he was.
Daniel pummelled his fist in his palm. Pippa had actually overcome her reticence, speaking out undaunted in front of the whole assembled company, to defend that wretched animal. Yet she had refused to talk to him, even one to one. He looked to Claire for some support, but she was still preoccupied with Blue.
‘Perhaps he’s ill again,’ she fretted. ‘I mean, he gets so little rest looking after everyone else, I often wonder how he manages to keep going.’
As if in answer to her speculations, there was a flurry outside the tepee and Happy pushed her way in, resplendent in an ankle-length filmy skirt and an ornate brocaded waistcoat, her mousy hair concealed by a tie-dyed scarf. ‘Mitra’s so sorry to have kept you, but …’
‘Who?’ Daniel whispered to Claire.
‘That’s Happy’s name for the master. Mitra – the Hindu god of harmony and light. Beautiful, isn’t it?’
Daniel made no comment. Happy was recounting what had befallen her God of Light: there had been a minor crisis involving some new arrivals, who turned out to be trouble-makers rather than people seeking help. And although Mitra had succeeded in ejecting them, he now needed a brief respite to rid himself of the negative energies and cleanse his healing channels. ‘So he’s asked me to stand in for him,’ she said, her elation at the privilege glowing in her face. ‘Or at least take over till he gets here. And the first thing he always does is to ask us all to send out light and love to the universe. So as a symbol of that light and love, I’m going to light the candle on the altar.’
She prostrated herself a moment in front of the pebbles and the plums, then bobbed back up again, producing a box of matches from the voluminous folds of her skirt, and lighting the blackened wick with a ceremonious flourish. The candle took a while to light, but it caught at last, throwing eerie flickering shadows around the tepee, which only increased the general apprehension. Even Bernard was whining and gnawing at his wound again.
Bloody hocus-pocus, Daniel thought. What had incense or candles to do with healing – or with conventional religion, come to that? It was all done for effect, to disarm the rational mind. Well, his mind wouldn’t be disarmed, whatever Happy’s ploys. He would simply observe the proceedings like some visiting anthropologist studying the rituals of a newly-discovered tribe.
‘Ready everyone?’ Happy had adopted a low and stagy voice, which only made her sound pretentious. ‘First we’ll try to centre ourselves and focus our attention. And I’d like you to hold hands. That helps to channel the energy in the circle.’
At first only Dylan and Gerard complied, touchingly relie
ved to be allowed to hold hands in public without attracting comment. Then Judith and Tony each offered a hand to Pippa, who insisted on holding Bernard’s paw as well. The rest were more inhibited, especially Rick and George, and Daniel himself felt utterly ridiculous as Claire slipped her sweaty palm in his, and Gerard on his other side gripped his fingers shyly. Never in his life had he held hands with another man, but it was impossible to refuse without appearing churlish, or, worse still, homophobic.
‘Close your eyes and breathe in very deeply,’ Happy ordered from her position near the altar, where she was squatting on her haunches, unaware that one end of her flowing scarf was trapped beneath her thigh. ‘And I want you to imagine that the boundaries and divisions between man and man, and man and beast, and man and his surroundings, have dissolved and disappeared. We’re all one, all at peace.’
Daniel, eyes still open, glanced around the circle. Peace and love seemed thin on the ground. Claire’s jealousy of Happy was all too obvious on her face; Margot’s expression combined bewilderment and pain; while George’s hostile frown cut deep between his brows.
‘Now, as you exhale, slowly and deliberately, send out your light and love – first to the earth and all who live on it.’ Happy let out her own breath with a dramatic hissing sound.
Judging by the tense silence, everyone else seemed to be holding their breath rather than expelling it, but Happy continued unperturbed. ‘Breathe in once again, and as you exhale this time, send out your light and love to all the seas and rivers and lakes and ponds, and all the creatures that live in water. I want to hear that breath – let it out with a great big sigh.’
Again she demonstrated, apparently quite unabashed by the exaggerated sound she made (which set Rick off in giggles again). Tony did his best to copy her, using all the power of his burly chest, then Gerard gave a faint apologetic gasp, and Dylan followed suit, looking painfully self-conscious as his breath came out in a strangulated whinny.
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