Barbara Erskine - Kingdom of Shadows

‘How did you know I was studying yoga?’ Slowly Clare stood up. When she turned to face him she had remembered Chloe’s call and she was smiling impishly. ‘Of course. Emma told you, didn’t she?’

‘She mentioned it, yes.’ Geoffrey looked down at his cup. ‘My dear, I don’t want you to think I’m interfering, but I was a little concerned when I heard what you were doing. Can we talk about it?’

‘That sounds very portentous, Geoffrey.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Does the Church of England disapprove of yoga?’

‘Yoga is often misunderstood, Clare. Practitioners of it tend to emphasise the fact that it is just a method of exercising and relaxing one’s body. They play down the fact, either intentionally or because they do not know it, that it is also a spiritual exercise, designed to bring about changes in one’s whole psyche, and that if one does it properly it can open and expose one’s mind and soul, and leave them very vulnerable.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Does that sound very pompous?’

She nodded. ‘I’m afraid it does rather. A far cry from the classes they give in the village hall here.’

‘But you didn’t learn it in the village hall, did you?’ He put down his coffee cup. ‘I gather that the man who taught you has also taught you something about meditation.’

‘Which again comes highly recommended in every book you pick up these days. It’s the panacea of the eighties.’ She frowned. ‘It’s not dangerous, Geoffrey.’

He scowled. ‘Tell me about these visions you see.’

‘You mean the one with the horns and the cloven hooves and the tail with a point on the end?’

Outside the sun was fighting its way out of the mist. A ray of sunlight crept slowly across the carpet and stopped at her feet.

He didn’t laugh. For a long moment he watched her intently, then at last he looked away. ‘You think it all a joke?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not a joke. Not to me – but it is when you take it so seriously.’ She refused to allow herself to think about what Zak had said.

‘I take it seriously because it’s a serious matter, Clare.’

‘You’re talking about the witchcraft now, of course.’ She looked at him solemnly. ‘I didn’t think I’d told Emma about that. There are a lot of covens in East Anglia – but there are waiting lists. One would be lucky to get into one.’ She walked over the window and stared out, so he couldn’t see her face. ‘I’m getting very good at it.’

Behind her Geoffrey swallowed. ‘Clare –’

‘It was frightening at first, of course – especially the first time I raised the devil. It’s hard to remember the ceremonies; the incantations – but when it works …’ She turned to face him. ‘Don’t you believe me? You should ask Sarah. She’ll tell you. She caught me at it last night. She was almost terrified to death.’

‘Clare –’

‘The Church of England is boring, Geoffrey.’ She was speaking very fast. ‘It hasn’t reassured me, or comforted me. It leaves me cold. I’m sorry. But it’s true. And if it’s concerned about my soul I’m grateful – but I don’t need its concern. I’d rather go on my own way.’

‘Will you tell me what you do?’

‘The ceremonies are secret. You know better than to ask that.’ She was swinging from humour to seriousness so quickly he was not sure which was which.

‘Then tell me what happens. Do these people appear to you as apparitions?’

‘They appear as people; in my head. They are daydreams. Imaginary. Nothing to do with you.’

‘But they are not daydreams, are they? You are summoning them.’

‘Imagining, summoning. What’s the difference? It is not as though any one else can see them. At least …’ She stopped in mid sentence. She was staring at the dog who was lying head on paws near the door. Casta had sensed them. And so had Zak. She shivered suddenly.

Geoffrey was watching her closely. He frowned. ‘Please let me help you, Clare,’ he said. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. ‘Please. I can get rid of them for you.’

She stared at him. ‘Get rid of them?’

‘These people who are tormenting you.’

‘They are not tormenting me! And I don’t want to get rid of them!’ Her indignation flared again. ‘I care about them, Geoff. Isobel is like another me. I want to know all about her. I want to dream about her, or conjure up her shade or whatever it is I’m doing. She belongs at Duncairn. She’s part of my history; she’s part of me. She’s living again through me. And I intend to go on summoning her to me, even if it does put my soul in jeopardy!’ She took a deep breath. ‘What sort of life do you think I lead here, Geoff? What do you think I do all day?’ She sat down near him. ‘I’m young; I’m energetic; I’m intelligent. I can’t have children, so I’m not spending my time with my family. I have a housekeeper to look after the house. My husband doesn’t want me to work – and up to now I haven’t been able to face the hassle of fighting with him about it. He doesn’t want me with him all the time either. I spent a lot of time raising money for charity when we were first married – but he resented even that time I wasn’t with him. I have no friends around here. A lot of acquaintances, but no one I could call a friend. I wanted to go up to Scotland to see my mother and to go to Duncairn – but he wouldn’t even let me do that! So, what the hell am I supposed to do all day?’ Her voice had risen passionately. ‘I took up yoga, Geoffrey, to try to learn calmness, to reduce stress, to try to have a baby. That, it appears, is never going to happen, but I have grown to enjoy yoga and meditation, to rely on it, if you like. It makes me feel good and it gives me a prop when I need one. I am beginning to fight my way out of this morass of boredom and indecision. I am beginning to question what the point of it all is. And because of that, I am beginning to make sense of my life.’ She paused and smiled at him. ‘I’ve always had dreams, Geoff. I’ve always been haunted by the past. That is nothing new. What is new is that I’ve learned to call it up at will, and learn from it.’

‘I appreciate that you have problems with your marriage, Clare.’ Geoffrey rubbed his cheek with his hand. ‘But they can be faced in other ways.’ He hesitated. ‘You must see, my dear, that what we are talking about has gone beyond daydreaming. You are not some sort of female Walter Mitty. You are lighting candles and invoking the spirits of the dead. And they are, as you have found, only too eager to communicate. It is dangerous, Clare.’

In the long silence that followed as they stared at each other they both heard the scrunch of car tyres on the gravel outside the house.

Clare shivered again. She swallowed. ‘That will be Sarah coming back. I think you’d better go, Geoff.’

Slowly Geoffrey stood up. ‘Of course.’ He reached out and took her hands. ‘Please think about what I’ve said, Clare, I beg you. And feel you can ring me at any time. If you’re lonely, come and see us. Chloe is very fond of you. We both are. And I’ll have a chat with Paul. He must be made to realise that you need something to occupy you –’

‘Don’t you say a word to Paul!’ She was angry suddenly. ‘I am quite capable of talking to my own husband. Keep out of it, Geoffrey. I’m working things out my own way.’ In the distance the doorbell pealed. ‘Now, go. Please go. Sarah must have forgotten her key –’ She almost ran into the hall.

Outside there was a florist’s van. There was no sign of Sarah or her car. A young woman was standing on the gravel, staring up at the house front, a cellophane sheaf of flowers in her arms.

‘Mrs Royland?’

Clare carried the flowers back into the drawing room where Geoffrey was still standing awkwardly in front of the fire. He smiled as she laid the flowers down on the coffee table. ‘It looks as though someone loves you after all.’ He watched as she unpinned the note which came with them.