The Healing Place

CHAPTER 3

  ‘You did what?’ said Ella incredulously. She was sitting up in bed, drying her newly-washed long dark hair, craning her neck to supervise the movements of the brush in a small mirror balanced precariously on her knees.

  The whole of the converted Edwardian house had been relentlessly feng shui-ed by the freeholder before Franz bought this second-floor apartment, and was subject to restrictions in the lease regarding the interior arrangements.

  Franz had not anticipated that when Ella moved in with him her request for a mirror on the wall opposite the bed would cause problems but the freeholder, who lived in the flat below, ran upstairs when he heard the electric drill and denied her right to a mirror on that particular wall, on grounds of disrupting the flow of chi, or healing energy.

  Ella straightened her back now and rubbed her neck where it ached from leaning at an unhealthy angle.

  ‘I shouted at the girl not to get in the car,’ Franz admitted.

  She stared at him. ‘That’s so unlike you! Why?’

  ‘It is unlike me,’ he agreed.

  "I acknowledge anger as a power for good, to be directed creatively and usefully at defined sources of injustice," was a quote from the Managing Anger Creatively seminar he and Ella had attended last year. Both had been sufficiently impressed by it for Franz to decide to run it at The Healing Place, where it had been well received. The quote was on their fridge door.

  ‘How is it an injustice, for someone to offer somebody else a lift home?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Obviously it’s not,’ he said. ‘I was aware of some negative energy between myself and Phil but I thought I’d countered it.’

  ‘Did you see him as a danger to this young girl?’

  He shook his head quickly. ‘I could understand it if I’d felt that. I didn’t take to them personally but I didn’t see them as dangerous people.’

  ‘Did you see him as competition or something, coming into The Healing Place and lifting one of your seekers from under your nose?’

  ‘You think I’m that superficial?’

  He saw her flinch and realized he’d sounded aggressive. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

  Ella knelt up and put her arms round him. ‘I think you’re human,’ she said, ‘like the rest of us. You expect too much of yourself.’

  ‘I shocked myself,’ he said. ‘One minute I was cool, the next I was – I can’t believe I did that!’

  ‘Something acted as a trigger,’ Ella said. ‘You just have to figure out what it was.’

  ‘She reminded me of someone,’ Franz said, raising his head and looking at Ella now. ‘Someone from the past.’

  ‘A lover?’ There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She was beautiful, Franz thought: not conventionally beautiful but inviting, with her dark eyes and high cheekbones and soft, full mouth. Her freshly washed hair hung over her bare shoulders and the thin-strapped camisole top she wore in bed. He felt a wave of desire.

  ‘A sister. Kind of.’

  ‘Franz! You told me you were an only child!’ The delicate brows were arched high now and her mouth was an open O.

  ‘I was. My mother fostered her.’

  ‘You never told me this, in a whole year and a half of being with you? What’s her name? Where is she now?’

  ‘Rachel. She lives abroad. We lost touch.’

  ‘Well, that accounts for it, Franz! You got upset because this other girl, who reminded you of your sister, was getting into someone’s car and being driven away from you. It’s symbolic, don’t you see that?’

  He shrugged, annoyance competing with desire. ‘You’re reading too much into it.’

  ‘No, listen! This vicar couple – did they remind you of anyone as well? The man – Phil? If you reacted to him like you did …’

  ‘He didn’t remind me of anyone. He just got under my skin because – because what’s an extinct religious authority figure doing in The Healing Place anyhow?’

  ‘Waiting for his wife to sign on for an aromatherapy course,’ said Ella reasonably.

  ‘She didn’t register,’ said Franz. ‘I checked.’

  Ella stared at him. ‘You checked up on her?’

  ‘My guess is that they were checking us out, that she had no intention of registering for anything.’

  Ella frowned. ‘She may have just changed her mind. People do come and look and then go away and think about it some more.’

  ‘Maybe. She seemed genuine, to start with. She knew what she’d come for and she asked her husband about doing a second course on the same evening.’

  ‘And he said?’

  ‘He said “sure”.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound to me like they’re spying on you,’ Ella said.

  ‘Did I say spying? You’re making me out to be paranoid now!’

  ‘Sorry!’ She spread her hands, disowning the accusation.

  ‘Jan had a long chat with Saffron,’ Franz mused. ‘I wonder if that had something to do with it.’

  Ella stifled a yawn. ‘Ask Saffron?’

  ‘I might do that.’

  Ella rubbed his shoulders. ‘Okay, babe? You want to meditate?’ When he hesitated, she said, ‘Or make love?’

  He looked her in the eyes. ‘You’re tired,’ he said, ‘aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m okay. My stomach’s a bit weird,’ she admitted.

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘I guess I should meditate for a while,’ she said. ‘I’ve kind of let it slip recently.’

  ‘We both have,’ said Franz. ‘That’s probably why I got angry this evening.’

  ‘Mm.’ She was settling herself into position, straightening her back, crossing her legs, closing her eyes, opening her hands. She sounded unconvinced. As Franz slid from the bed to the floor and sat cross-legged likewise, she murmured, ‘You sure that vicar guy didn’t remind you of anyone?’

  He had already closed his eyes and was taking long breaths, exhaling audibly, so she didn’t expect an answer. But he heard the answer inside his own head: he reminded you of you; that’s why you couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  Meditation followed by sex ensured that he slept until morning. He woke from a strangely disturbing dream in which hordes of crabs scuttling over a cliff edge dropped, not into the sea, but on to the rocks where they smashed to pieces, screaming. He didn’t know what it meant and had no inclination to ask Saffron the dream counsellor for an interpretation.

  Ella was up before him, sitting on the floor meditating again. She looked pale but her face was serene. Franz walked round her quietly and went to get dressed in the bathroom so he wouldn’t disturb her. He prepared her hot water and his peppermint tea, cut slices of oatmeal bread, juiced mango with beansprouts and celery, and set out Ella’s jars of vitamin and mineral supplements.

  He drank his tea standing up, checking his phone for email, voicemail and text messages, took one bite of bread as a concession to Ella’s insistence on the value of eating breakfast, and swallowed a vitamin pill at random from the nearest jar without looking to see what it was.

  A rash of text messages had appeared overnight, mostly from guides wanting to speak to him today and giving a brief advance warning of what it was about. Franz operated an open door drop-in policy rather than an appointments system, finding it was self-limiting. If one guide’s complaints risked being heard by the next person who walked through the door, they tended to be more circumspect. And if a number of people hovered in the corridor, waiting for their chance to drop in as soon as the first person left, the one in the office tended to keep it short.

  Under an appointments system a complainant might have to wait several days to see Franz – days in which a complaint that could be pacified in five minutes if tackled immediately would simmer and rise like yeast to proportions that would justify using up half an hour of Franz’s time.

  The drop-in system did mean that unless Franz was actually out of the office, his time there was a series of constan
t interruptions. It was one reason why his most concentrated work was often done in the evening, though the guides of the evening courses would often call in before the session started or – if he hadn’t gone home by 10 pm – after it finished.

  But Franz had found there was a positive side to not knowing when he was going to be interrupted. An informal visit could reasonably be terminated by him when the phone rang (‘Do you mind if I answer this - I think it might be urgent?’), or conversely a phone call could be terminated because someone had come into the office and needed attention.

  To compensate for limiting the duration of their visit, Franz ensured that he gave each person complete attention for the time they were in contact with him. He was a good listener, good at hearing what people said and what they wanted to say and were not saying because they couldn’t find the words to explain, so most people left feeling confident that he had absorbed the information they conveyed.

  When he noted that one of the messages was from Sharma, however, Franz frowned. The message read, 'May I have some time with you when you are available?' and was signed formally, 'R. Sharma.'

  Franz decided to show it to Ella. Simple though the message was, he was not sure what it meant. When you are available? Sharma knew Franz’s system of no appointments and no taboos. He could say what he liked, any time. Why send a message to ask for time with him?

  Ella appeared, looking dazed, and drank in silence. Franz felt disinclined to trouble her but he needed to go and there were issues that had to be cleared.

  ‘There’s another forum this evening,’ he said.

  ‘I know. I walked past and saw the sign. You’re running one every night this week.’

  ‘I’m just trying it out this way. It won’t necessarily happen every time.’

  ‘You’re doing it so that reflexologists don’t have to brush shoulders with tarot readers?’

  ‘Right.’ He laughed, hoping she would join him, but she didn’t.

  ‘Don’t take this wrong,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but if you ever want to leave, I’ll stand by you, you know.’

  ‘Leave?’

  ‘The Healing Place. If you ever want to - you know - just walk away. You don’t have to talk to me first or anything.’

  ‘Leave The Healing Place? Are you serious?’

  ‘Okay, I’ve just said it so you know I’d back you, whatever.’

  ‘Whatever makes you think …?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing. I had a weird dream, that’s all. All right? Go!’

  ‘Are you feeling okay, Ella?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, standing up and leaving her breakfast uneaten. ‘See you tonight, Franz. Really. Go!’

  ‘See you.’ It wasn’t his imagination. She didn’t look well. ‘I’ll call you when I’ve finished for the day,’ he said. ‘Before the forum starts. Might have time to drop home for a while.’

  ‘You’ve got meetings from five till seven, with the accountant and then those businessmen,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I forgot. I’ll phone you at the shop this afternoon then.’

  She came over and kissed him. ‘See you tonight.’

  He hesitated. ‘I had this text from Sharma.’ He showed her.

  She read it and frowned. ‘That’s serious, Franz, isn’t it? Asking for an appointment? You’d better allow him some time when you won’t be interrupted. Why don’t you invite him back here between seven and eight? I can leave you some food ready and make myself scarce?’

  ‘Thanks for the thought but I don’t mix work and home,’ Franz said. ‘I can’t make an exception for one person and treat the rest differently.’

  ‘You made an exception for me,’ Ella pointed out.

  He smiled and kissed her. ‘You’re different.’

  ‘So is Sharma, isn’t he?’

  ‘Because he’s been there longer than most?’

  ‘Because he’s genuine,’ Ella said. Her phone started ringing. Franz, who had opened his mouth to question her surprising comment, closed it again as she picked up the phone and answered. ‘Hi, Maz. Can you hold on a second?’

  Putting her hand over it, she said, ‘Shall I do that, then – leave some food ready?’

  Normally decisive, he faltered. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants to talk about. It might not take much time.’

  ‘You don’t have much time,’ Ella reminded him. ‘Meetings till seven, forum at eight. Yes?’

  ‘Okay. Thanks. Don’t worry about leaving us space, though. I’d appreciate your input.’

  She considered this. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave the two of you alone. Franz – you will listen to whatever it is that he says, won’t you?’

  He was hurt. ‘I always listen.’

  ‘Yes, but – take it on board. Believe him.’

  ‘Do you know what it’s about, then? He’s said something to you?’

  ‘No. But if it’s about you, and you don’t agree with him, still think about it. He might have something. Okay, Maz?’ she said into the phone. ‘Sure, no problem. See you later. She wants me to open up the shop so she can go straight to the wholesaler's,’ she told Franz. ‘I’d better go. See you later.’

  It would be much later, he realized, and was surprised at the pang of desolation he felt. Walking down the street now, he wondered what had prompted Ella to give him that permission to cut loose from The Healing Place if he wanted. It was his lifetime achievement, surely? Had she said it because she resented his long absences and preoccupation with work, or because she sensed he was getting bored?

  He focused his mind on the day’s tasks as he entered the building by the alleyway and took the stairs to his office two at a time. He needed to check the admissions from last night’s forum to see how many hours he could allocate to the new one-day workshop sessions held at weekends, which were proving popular.

  Assertiveness And Self-Empowerment was less in favour than it had been a year ago. Perhaps people were generally more assertive now and didn't feel the need to be taught it. Franz was considering reducing it from a full day to a half-day or evening session. Contact Your Guardian Angel, on the other hand, was oversubscribed and a second class had been scheduled. If the two Angel guides had been willing to work in harmony, he would have allocated space for one combined class all day Saturday, but previous communication with the Angelic leaders restricted the options to separate rooms and only an evening slot. He was pondering the logistics of this when a knock came at his open office door. No one ever knocked except Sharma, who mistrusted informality.

  ‘Hi, Sharma,’ he said absently, not looking up from the list he was holding.

  ‘Hi, Franz.’

  Not Sharma after all, but Phil the vicar. Franz felt his breathing halt in mid-intake.

  ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ Phil said. ‘The receptionist told me to come straight up.’

  Franz, who had come in by the private side entrance, tried to recall which receptionist was on duty this morning. Informal was one thing; sending vicars up to his office without warning was something else.

  ‘That’s cool,’ said Franz.

  ‘I felt I owed you an apology for last night,’ Phil said. ‘My wife pointed out I’d been tactless, and she was quite right. Walking into one of your admissions sessions and waltzing off with one of your applicants. It didn’t occur to me how offensive that was. I apologize.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ Franz said stiffly. 'And insincerely,' he heard that unwelcome inner voice comment.

  ‘We do have a slight connection with Jacqui, but you weren’t to know that. I handled it badly.’

  ‘A connection?’

  ‘My wife Jan is a community worker. She has a lot to do with the Emmetts Lane estate.’

  ‘The tower blocks behind the station?’

  ‘Yes. Jacqui doesn’t live on the estate but a friend of hers does. Every time Jan saw her, Jacqui had a black eye or bruises. Her friend said she was living with a man and trying to escape. Finally
she left but the guy followed her, beat her up and landed her in Intensive Care.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’ Franz asked. No wonder the girl had been shaky.

  ‘A couple of weeks. He’s been arrested but she’s scared to go home. He threatened to set his mates on her.’

  ‘Is she homeless, then?’

  ‘She can stay at her friend’s but she’s scared to go out or answer the door while her friend’s out at work. Last night was an attempt, she said, to get some kind of life back – take up a new interest, do something for herself.’

  ‘She left without signing up for anything,’ Franz said. He had checked.

  ‘I don’t think she’s in much of a state to study anything just yet,’ Phil said. ‘Jan saw her crying and asked if she could help. She came home with us for the night.’

  ‘Isn’t that blurring the professional boundaries somewhat?’ said Franz.

  Phil gave a wry smile. ‘I don’t know that I’d call what I do professional, exactly. Was Jesus a professional?’

  ‘So you’re going to give Jacqui the Jesus treatment, are you?’ Franz said.

  ‘You don’t like the sound of that name,’ Phil observed.

  ‘I don’t like some of the shit that’s said and done in that name,’ said Franz smoothly.

  ‘Neither do I,’ Phil said. ‘And I’m not into forcible conversion or kidnapping people. Jan’s contacting Jacqui’s sister this morning to see if she’ll have her to stay – get her out of the area. I just wanted to explain that if you don’t see her back here, that’s the reason. No reflection on you. Or on us,’ he added.

  ‘And is that the reason your wife left without signing up for the course she came here to do?’ Franz challenged.

  Phil hesitated. ‘No,’ he said. ‘She wanted time to think it over.’

  ‘There’s a problem?’ Franz asked. He felt more in control now.

  ‘Jan’s interested in aromatherapy and therapeutic massage,’ said Phil. ‘One of the old ladies on the estate had been given a voucher by her daughter for some aromatherapy sessions and she found they helped her to sleep. She’d have liked to continue but couldn’t afford it, so Jan thought she might train in it herself and offer free sessions to her elderly clients.’

  Franz nodded. It wouldn’t break The Healing Place if one vicar’s wife gave free treatment to a few old people locally. ‘But?’ he prompted.

  ‘But … she had a talk with – Sharon, was it?’

  ‘Saffron.’

  ‘With Saffron, about other subjects offered here – clairvoyance, tarot, things that come within the range of what we’d call the occult. Saffron told Jan that there isn’t such a clear dividing line – that many complementary therapies have their roots in philosophies that might come under the heading of occult or pagan. Secret knowledge, hidden wisdom, I suppose it might claim to be.’ He paused and waited for Franz’s reaction.

  ‘The approach here is holistic,’ Franz told him, ‘so nothing can be separated from the spiritual. So, yes – aromatherapy, clairvoyance, all the other disciplines offered here may seem very different from each other but they have that in common: they cater for the whole person, physical and spiritual. Is that an issue?’

  ‘As a Christian, I’d say it is. The message of Christ is open to everyone, nothing hidden or cryptic or just for the chosen few.’

  ‘And as a human being?’ Franz asked.

  ‘As a human being, I’d say that anything that makes people aware of life as spiritual as well as physical has to be good but that doesn’t mean that everything spiritual is good. Bad spirit generally doesn’t appear as sinister or unnatural; it’s attractive and its arguments are plausible. But that doesn’t make it true, or the pursuit of it healthy for seekers after truth.’

  ‘Not every seeker who comes here is seeking ultimate truth,’ Franz said. ‘We believe in letting people find their own truth, not telling them what they should believe. That’s treating people like children.’

  ‘Perhaps we are all children,’ Phil said, ‘where evil’s concerned. I’m coming from a different place: I get to see people who have innocently got involved in occult stuff, found it exciting or soothing or whatever it was they were hoping for, but ultimately it resulted in just the opposite - losing their true selves.'

  Franz noted that Phil looked worried, his brow creased. He can’t be anywhere near forty, Franz thought, but those lines are already quite deep. He doesn’t take care of his health, obviously. A smoker and a worrier.

  Franz smiled, feeling youthful and liberal by comparison. ‘I’m not a psychologist,' he said. 'But I’d still rather let people find their own way and think for themselves.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Phil agreed. ‘But if the instructors – guides, do you call them? - who are influencing people here don’t believe in the absolute power of a good God, then what is the power source of their activities? Or do they think it comes from themselves?’

  ‘Different guides quote different names for their power source,’ Franz told him. ‘They think they’re all very distinct from each other.’ He grinned. ‘Like Protestants and Catholics, in your field!’

  Phil smiled. ‘That’s not such an issue these days. Mediating young people’s worship styles with elderly organists, now that’s difficult!’

  Franz laughed. This guy wasn’t as stuffy as he seemed.

  ‘But what are they?’ Phil asked. ‘Their sources of power?’

  ‘Whatever they like to call them,’ Franz said. ‘Nature, Odin, Buddha, angels, Gaia, life force, natural energy, chi, ley lines, chakras, spirit guides. What does it matter as long as people grow spiritually?’

  ‘Everything except Jesus,’ Phil said thoughtfully.

  ‘Oh, we can do Jesus too!’ Franz assured him. ‘Some people use the image of a historical Jesus as their focus for meditation; some believe in the Jesus-concept within each person; many of the ethnic Hindus here are happy to add Jesus to their list of deities. We don’t leave anybody out, that’s our policy here – not even Jesus Christ!’

  If he had expected Phil to join in the laughter now, he was disappointed. The guy had gone back to stuffy, evidently. What was it about the Jesus thing that made otherwise reasonable people’s sense of humour evaporate?

  ‘Is this place jointly owned by all the staff, or is it yours?’ Phil asked.

  ‘It’s in my name, which means a lot of it belongs to loan companies, in my name,’ said Franz. ‘The admin staff are on salary and the therapists are self-employed; they pay according to their use of the facilities. Some of them use our forums and our publicity material as a shop-front to attract clients then see them at home or in other premises but most rent space and equipment here as well. All the courses and workshops are run in this building: we arrange them, do the pre-publicity and the technical backup, with the guides - course leaders – taking the profits after paying us their fees.’

  ‘It’s a big investment for one person,’ said Phil. ‘I’d have sleepless nights.’

  ‘It’ll pay for itself in four years at the present rate and we’ve been going for two already,’ Franz said.

  ‘No – I mean, yes, of course, the debt,’ Phil said, ‘but I was thinking more of the responsibility for people’s lives. Our fields of work are alike in that we both attract the vulnerable. What’s the most controversial subject you offer here, would you say?’

  Franz shrugged. ‘Depends who you ask.’ The phone had rung five times since Phil came in but he left it on message-taking. The discussion interested him, or rather the man’s interest in Franz himself drew him to continue the conversation. Guides and seekers were both usually too absorbed in what they could get from The Healing Place to consider its director’s responsibilities.

  ‘Reiki practitioners look down on spiritualist healers, who in turn don’t like natural healers who rely on intuition. Our most successful clairvoyant, Sharma, hates spiritism, séances, tarot reading, runes, divination and just about anything he considers occult. And everybod
y hates Wicca, as far as I can gather, so we have to locate ….’

  ‘Wicca?’ Phil interrupted. ‘As in witchcraft? You allow that here?’

  ‘We allow all people to follow their own path,’ said Franz. ‘That’s the whole ethos of The Healing Place. We don’t judge.’

  ‘And if it turns out to be harmful, the buck stops where – with you?’ Phil asked.

  Out of the corner of his eye Franz caught a movement in the corridor and saw Sharma turn away from the doorway.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Franz. ‘Someone wants to see me. And for the record – no one gets harmed here, okay? They get help, in whatever form they choose to seek it.’

  Phil held out his hand. ‘Thanks for your time. And for accepting my apology. It is accepted?’

  Franz was about to deny again that there had been a problem, but decided on honesty. ‘I overreacted,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘It’s hard not to, sometimes,’ said Phil, ‘when you care about people as we do. Would you mind if I prayed for you?’

  Franz gave a short laugh. ‘Why not, if it means something to you?’

  He had half turned away when he realized that Phil meant here and now; the man had his arm around Franz’s shoulder. As he had the night before, Franz felt a rush of rage. The gesture was one of his own stock-in-trade – the brotherly arm around the shoulders. He resented being the receiver of it. But Phil had his eyes closed and was already praying. Aloud.

  ‘Father God, you created this man out of your love and you have called him by his own name. Give him protection as he walks this tightrope in the dark alone; keep him from harm and lead him into the way you have chosen for him, in Jesus’ name. Amen. Bye, Franz, hope we meet again.’

  He was gone. Sharma, coming in from the corridor after him, found Franz shaking with rage.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Religion,’ said Franz. ‘It makes me sick. Literally. But never mind him. I got your message, Sharm. How can I help?’

  ‘I’m taking some names off my list from last night’s registration,’ Sharma said. ‘The three girls you brought.’

  Franz nodded. As he suspected, Sharma had taken offence at his joky encouragement of the girls who signed up because they fancied the tutor. Sharma was a good bloke but took himself too seriously at times. He would call Ella and tell her there was no need for him to bring Sharma home this evening. The matter could be dealt with right now.

  ‘I apologize, Sharma,’ he said, getting in before Sharma’s inevitable censure of his conduct. ‘I was out of line last night. My attitude was inappropriate and unprofessional and if it caused you problems, of course you don’t have to accept them on your course. I’ll contact them and recommend another course.’

  It was good to swallow that grain of pride. If vicar Phil could apologize, Franz could too. But Sharma was looking at the floor, not meeting Franz’s eyes.

  ‘I told them there was no room for them on the course,’ Sharma said. ‘It was not true, obviously.’

  ‘Okay. I won’t say anything that would give them the opposite impression. Is that your worry?’

  Sharma still didn’t look at him. ‘I spared them the truth because I didn’t want to hurt the young women’s feelings, but they wouldn’t make genuine students and they would distract the others. And disturb my own peace.’

  ‘Sure. And I shouldn’t have encouraged them. But another time, Sharma, don’t send any seekers away. If you don’t want them for any reason, call me over at the forum and say something along the lines of, “Franz, these promising young women wouldn’t achieve their full spiritual potential on this course so would you recommend something more suited to them?”’

  Sharma gave him an oblique look.

  Franz was not in the mood to be sensitive. ‘You know what the policy is on situations that guides find awkward to handle: call me in and allow me to deal with it. Come on, Sharma – what am I here for?’

  Sharma opened his mouth to answer then appeared to think better of it.

  ‘Did you say I would contact them, or have we just lost three clients?’ Franz asked.

  ‘I doubt that The Healing Place has lost their custom,’ Sharma said. ‘I heard one of them mention coming back tonight to sign up for “a go in the flotation tank or something.”’ His tone was dry.

  Franz looked at him directly. ‘Next time you don’t want a client, bring them back to me, all right?’

  ‘Right.’ Sharma’s face was closed.

  ‘You’re one of The Healing Place’s most valuable assets, Sharm,’ said Franz. He found he had moved alongside the man and put an arm around his shoulders. He dropped his arm quickly, remembering his own reaction to Phil. ‘Of course I don’t want you to compromise your integrity. I was flippant with those girls and it wasn’t appropriate. Apology accepted?’

  It was a good phrase. Even if it had come from a Church of England cleric. Franz held out his hand and Sharma shook it, without enthusiasm.

  ‘Everything cool with you otherwise, Sharm? Was there something else you wanted to talk about?’

  ‘I’m okay, Franz. By the way, you know about the crack in the ceiling of the auditorium?’

  ‘What crack?’

  ‘The big one. From the far left corner as you come in from the street, halfway across the ceiling. It’s getting wider.’

  ‘Probably the plaster shrinking. It does that, the first year or two. But I’ll take a look. Thanks.’

  First Ella this morning talking about Franz walking away from The Healing Place, then Phil asking about the extent of his investment, now Sharma spotting cracks – what were they all worrying about, Franz asked himself? You’d think none of them had heard of positive thinking. He glanced down at the lists in his hand and checked the registration for Positive Thinking – The Path To Achieving Your Full Life-Potential, and found it reassuringly fully booked.