Alchemy

by Maureen Duffy

  The play began and all were hushed. There entered four personages all in black. A lady and her son, an old man and a maid. The lady was parting from her son, a ward of court as the young earl had been, and chafing at it as he had. The old man spoke some words in praise of the king to which the lady replied asking for news of the king’s condition. The old lord answered that his majesty had abandoned his physicians and resigned himself to death.

  The lady spoke again and at her words in spite of my resolution that it was but a sham, I felt tears prick my eyes for it seemed she spoke of me.

  ‘This young gentlewoman had a father – O, that had, how sad a passage his – whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would for the king’s sake he were living! I think it would be the death of the king’s disease.’

  The he/she that played the physician’s daughter began to weep and I felt to my shame my own tears, until then pent behind my eyes, begin to fall at which my lady reached up a hand and touched mine where I held to the back of the chair behind her so that a drop fell on it shining in the light of the torches.

  As to the rest of the play I remember Lite of it. The maid applied her father’s prescription to the king and cured his fistula but there all resemblance to my case ended for she acted out of love for a young count whose mother had befriended her as Naomi did for Ruth. The count was a cruel boy that she could win only by a bed trick. The lady his mother seemed nobler to my eyes and ears and I was all the more ready to say with the maid who cheated him into his wife’s bed, ‘Marry who will, I’ll live and die a maid.’

  My lady called me to her when we had returned to Baynard’s. ‘Well my young physician, what did you think of the play? Did it not bring home to you that maids must marry and it is time to leave this game? Your tears for your father, as I took them, should have perhaps been for you that like Helen have none to provide a dowry for you that would help you to a husband worthy of you. You know that when my son shall marry I shall lose these houses that have sheltered you. You must think of your future.’

  I felt the tears come again and went down on my knees before her. ‘I will never be a charge upon you my lady whatever falls out. Only do not turn me away until you must. When the time is ready let me go of my own will.’

  Then she lifted me up and kissed me on the mouth. ‘We shall play our game of Arcadia a little longer child until the world and time decide otherwise.’

  As I’d expected when I confronted the police I was ‘informed’, you’re never just told, that a member of the public had reported lights and vehicles where none should be. There was a question about whether the owners, some kind of environmental trust, would want to bring a private prosecution. It sounded as if the police themselves were wondering about pressing charges. What after all would they get: a fine, community service? Was it really worth the time and expense? I pointed out that my client was of good standing, without a previous record. I suggested there were no independent witnesses and that the whole affair could smack a bit of farce if it came to open court before the local press. I also queried the public order implications if the media went over the top and whipped up local anger. I tried a cool, measured, faintly amused tone and waited. They said they would let me know. He could be served with a summons to appear in due course.

  ‘What isn’t clear, Ms Green, is what your client was doing there. Maybe the public could feel safer if he was on the sex offenders’ register.’

  A red light was flashing in my head. For that they would need a conviction. It would make Galton unemployable anywhere around young people or children at least. I would have to risk the truth or some of it.

  ‘I can assure you that there was nothing of a sexual nature involved. Any more than there is in people gathering at Stonehenge for the midsummer sunrise. Like the Druids. The right to practise one’s religion is a fundamental human right.’

  ‘The Druids have their clothes on, Ms Green, long robes and hats like the Archbishop of Canterbury. If they were stark naked we should have to arrest them.’

  ‘My client was changing out of his robe.’

  ‘Can you produce this robe?’

  ‘It was among his clothes when he was arrested.’

  ‘Everything was returned to him when he was bailed.’

  Mentally, I crossed my fingers and took a deep breath.

  ‘Exactly. So we can produce it.’

  ‘Is this it on the list? Red nightshirt or dressing gown.’

  ‘That’s it.’ I hoped it was, and that Galton hadn’t felt the robe had been contaminated by the experience and thrown it away.

  ‘You or your client need to bring us this garment so that we can verify its existence and its purpose.’

  ‘We’ll get it to you as soon as possible.’

  ‘Today, if you want to avoid a charge of withholding evidence as well.’

  So that’s my day fucked. I ring Galton and arrange to meet him at the station.

  ‘Do I have to go in, Ms Green? That place, those officers, terrify me.’

  ‘That’s what they’re supposed to do. The public likes it like that until they’re subject to it themselves of course. If you’ll pay for it I can meet you at the train station and go there by taxi. Then you can sit in the cab, in case they insist on seeing you and taking a further statement.’

  ‘I do hope not.’

  He’s his usual neat self when we meet at the station. He hands me a brown paper parcel in a plastic carrier bag and we join the taxi queue. ‘If they want you to make a statement I’ll come out and get you. All you need to say is you were there for the purpose of practising your religion.’

  ‘Do I have to mention anyone else?’

  ‘God, no. Then it could become a conspiracy. You’d have to give names. They’d be dragged in as witnesses. Keep it simple.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want anyone else to be involved. I was trying to protect them by being the last to leave.’

  ‘Try not to lie. Just be a bit selective with the truth, that’s all.’

  I leave him sitting in the cab and go in with my parcel If I can I want to keep Galton out of it. In his present jumpy state he might say far too much or too little. I ask to see Sergeant Parry who had dealt with us before and sit meekly waiting while he’s fetched. This time the monitor doesn’t show him coming. Suddenly he’s emerging from the bowels of the station with an expression on his face as if I’ve got him out of bed. ‘Ms Green? Come this way, please.’

  We traverse the corridors again. Today there’s no flutter in my gut, just a numbness that’s probably lack of sleep, or else familiarity already breeding contempt.

  ‘Have you brought the garment?’

  I proffer the carrier bag. Perry takes it, wrestles with the Sellotape bindings and finally bursts it open. I see a piece of red cloth with some gold embroidered edging. Perry opens it out and holds it up distastefully.

  ‘What was he doing, rehearsing for Father Christmas?’

  ‘I believe it’s part of a ritual.’

  ‘And were there other persons involved in this ritual? The officers reported the remains of a fire still warm though an obvious attempt had been made to put it out and conceal the evidence. The caller reported lights and vehicles present.’

  ‘An easy mistake to make in woods at night. There would have been lights from my client’s car, a torch, a fire. Possibly, even a lantern.’

  ‘What was the nature of the ritual, Ms Green?’

  As I understand it, it was, is in honour of a mother goddess.’ Always mention mothers if you can squeeze them in. As I’m sure you know, sergeant, many ancient religions have worshipped a mother goddess.’ I don’t add – and very nasty some of them were too – thinking of Cybele and Kali, Medusa and even Diana on an off day. Not to mention that old sourpuss Juno. ‘Getting in touch with nature, like ramblers and the Green Party’ I must be careful not to ramble on too much myself.

&nb
sp; Perry is looking tight-lipped and sceptical. ‘But what do they do? What exactly was going on, Ms Green?’

  ‘I believe you light a fire and cast a magic circle around it. And then you say a few prayers.’

  ‘And what do you make of all this?’

  ‘Well, between ourselves, sergeant, I think it’s all a bit theatrical, for my taste. But I can’t see any harm in it for others or really that it breaks any laws, except perhaps trespass and that’s a civil offence. From the point of view of the owners I think they would be ill-advised to follow it up publicly. All sorts of people might get the idea that their woods were a suitable place for goings-on of a less innocent nature.’

  ‘We haven’t established yet that it was innocent.’

  ‘I can assure you it was.’ And I believed it too. Foolish and naive perhaps and potentially harmful for those who might rely on it for emotional or physical healing, but then thousands of people were now into alternative therapies. It was only that Gabon’s lot called themselves witches, that raised centuries old superstitions and alarms. And, who could say that if you believed enough, you couldn’t, in some cases, alter the body’s chemistry, stimulate the immune system or set the serotonin flowing?

  ‘We’ll keep this a bit longer until we decide how to proceed. Sign for it, please.’ Perry pushed the robe to one side and produced a daybook. I signed and gave my address.

  ‘You aren’t local?’

  ‘No, as you can see I have a practice in London.’

  ‘How come you’re his solicitor then?’

  ‘I’m acting for him in another matter.’ I risk a question of my own. ‘The member of the public who reported the incident that led you to investigate, can you give me any more information on that? What time was it reported for instance?’

  Perry consults his records. ‘It was an anonymous call at II.41 p.m.’

  ‘Did anyone follow up where the call was made from?’

  ‘It was a mobile. Number unknown.’

  ‘A pity. You could have asked them what they were doing out there themselves.’

  ‘I expect it was what we used to call a courting couple though these days it’s most likely to be with someone else’s husband or wife.’

  Suddenly he’s weary of it all. This wasn’t the world he signed up to police. I sense a nostalgia for the old law and order that never was except in the tabloid imagination.

  ‘Too true,’ I say.

  Perry closes the book. ‘You’ll hear from us, Ms Green.’

  I’m being dismissed. I’ve kept Galton out of it and if it’s cost him an arm and a leg in taxi fares, that’s money well spent.

  ‘Just one thing: my client’s car?’

  ‘It’s in the police pound. He can collect it on payment of the removal fee.’

  Galton is waiting nervously in the cab. I shake my head at him to stop him from asking questions and tell the driver to take us back to the station. Galton pays up without a murmur, adding a substantial tip.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of coffee in the station buffet where we can talk.’ The cafeteria has Mediterranean pretensions in its name and decor but inside it smells of stale dishwashers, and the coffee tastes of them too.

  ‘You haven’t got the robe.’

  ‘No. They kept it. I signed for it. They should let you have it back in due course as the police might say. I think there’s a strong chance they won’t prosecute. I’ve shown that we’ll fight it if they do and I hope I’ve done enough to persuade them to close the book on the whole incident. One thing worries me though. Can you remember exactly what time you all got there?’

  Galton looks coy. ‘Midnight is, of course, the witching hour. We need about five minutes to get our clothes off. We don’t like to hang about too long without some activity. It can be lather chilly until the actual ritual takes over. Then of course you forget the demands of the flesh. So we try to arrive as close to midnight as possible; ideally about ten minutes before.’

  ‘Is it necessary to be naked?’

  ‘Oh, you can’t really exchange the fivefold kiss without it.’

  I decide to think about this later.

  ‘And that night?’

  ‘As usual, as far as I can remember. When I looked at my watch it was five to. Everyone was ready. The high priestess led them in the dance to the site. Then we performed a ring dance joining hands and the high priestess cast the circle. I had just lit the bonfire when we heard the noise of cars and saw lights. Fortunately they were still some way off. We didn’t know it was the police of course but I told everyone to get away as quickly as possible while I covered their retreat. I doubt if everyone got all their clothes on. They were only just able to get to their cars in time. Fortunately the site was between two roads and we had parked in a picnic parking spot on the opposite side from where the police were approaching. Otherwise we would all have been caught. I’d doused the fire, we always keep water to hand in case, and banished the circle. The police were crashing about in some bushes. I hoped they didn’t have dogs with them. I miscalculated. I thought I had just time to dress but they suddenly burst through and found me.’

  ‘So you would say you were there no more than fifteen minutes before twelve when the circle was cast? And you saw no evidence of anyone who could have called the police at 11.41?’

  ‘They would have had to be in a car like us and if we’d seen any such thing we’ would have aborted the rite. That happens sometimes. The goddess won’t manifest herself if there are strangers about.’

  ‘The police say you can pick up your car from the pound. Apart from that I would advise you to keep a very low profile. Keep your head down. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. You might try a prayer or two or crossing your fingers. Whatever turns you on.’

  ‘I am grateful to you, Ms Green.’

  ‘Just try to stay out of any more trouble.’

  He’s at least ten years older than me but I hoped he’d if not recognise at least respect the Marlowe voice of authority.

  It’s a relief to get home, make myself coffee and sit down to think. Galton had, inadvertently, told me a lot more about what went on at their meetings almost as a kind of boast or a claim for the authenticity of their cult or belief or craft, whatever they called it. Yet there was something both creepy and hilarious in middle-aged men and women dancing about naked in the woods, no doubt blue and goose-pimpled and the dangly bits, male and female, shrivelling up with cold. There was probably a lot more he wasn’t telling me and that I didn’t need or want to know. It wasn’t relevant either for the Wessex case or this one since they’d been surprised before they could do anything much except get their kit off.

  After all, a bit of open-air sex has a long and respectable history of hey nonny no, long before D.H. Lawrence turned it into an erotic version of the Chelsea Flower Show. There’s something liberating about it which is maybe why so many of the boys head for Hampstead Heath or Brompton Cemetery.

  That day out with Helen clinging on to me as we zoomed into Sussex down the motorway was a kind of apotheosis that caught us up into rose-coloured clouds after which there was no other way but down though I didn’t know it at the time. But maybe she did. When we got back she wouldn’t come into the flat except to change and then asked for a cab right away.

  ‘All that fresh air is exhausting!’ It was a conspiratorial smile she gave and then a peck on the cheek when what I needed was to hold her hard against me and drown in her scent. ‘See you back at the firm. We’re out to dinner tonight with clients. I hope I can stay awake!’

  I didn’t bump into her in the corridor next day by accident on purpose. And she didn’t ring down. That night I went home and played Rosenkavalier all the way through, burying my face in the gear she had worn the day before to see if I could detect any lingering scent of her and breathe it in but the smell of the leathers overpowered any there might have been. It was as if yesterday had never happened and perhaps for her it hadn’t. Perhaps I’d dreamt it all. And then the
other Marlowe kept going through my head. ‘Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Thy lips suck up my soul…’

  Mine was no Faustian contract with a myth though. What I wanted was flesh and blood, a cheek to touch, lips to cling to, a presence not an illusion or a dream. Obsessively, I played a dialogue over in my head in which I asked her what we were going to do. I wanted her to leave James and come to me, but when I looked round at my flat and considered their glossy way of life and position as partners in Settle and Fixit my fantasy collapsed in a heap on the floor as reality let go of the puppet’s strings. I cast round for ways to set it up on its feet dancing again but it refused to be raised. Pinocchio would be tossed into a corner for firewood as the caravan rumbled on its way.

  A ship there is and she sails the sea,

  She’s loaded deep as deep can be,

  But not so deep as the love I’m in,

  I care not if I sink or swim.

  Every love song of loss haunted me with the impossibility of what I yearned after. Could I make myself play it cool, enjoy what was on offer without hankering after more? I’d try. I had to. I wouldn’t ring. Let her ring me.

  But after another day of silence I was desperate, arguing, pleading in my head, unable to concentrate on the brief I’d been asked to prepare for James, unwilling to go down for a long session with a witness in one of our underground client rooms for work on their rambling statement in case I missed a call from Helen. And as I begged and pleaded like a convicted prisoner given a chance to speak in mitigation, I was also the judge pointing out that at no time had Helen led me to suppose what she was doing was any more than an experiment, something perhaps shed always wanted to try or read about but it wasn’t going to change her lifestyle. And I stood accused by my own ethos since I didn’t see anything morally wrong in fun sex, just that it didn’t really work for me. Besides I’d fallen in love but that couldn’t be helped either. Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad or something.