‘We don’t need any help. We’re fine.’
Othman sighed. Had he chosen the wrong way to deal with this? ‘What about this Cranton boy? Lily resents him, doesn’t she?’
‘She’s just jealous. Daniel’s an outsider, and we’ve never become friendly with outsiders before.’ He glanced at Othman. ‘Except for you.’
‘I’m not as much of an outsider as you think,’ he said. ‘What do you propose to use this Daniel for?’
‘Nothing!’ Owen said, too loudly. Clearly, he felt he’d said far too much already, and was now regretting it. He certainly didn’t want to talk to Othman about what happened at the High Place. That, more than anything he did with Lily, made him feel guilty, Othman could tell. Owen knew that something about the High Place and its properties were forbidden.
‘Oh come on, Owen!’ Othman said harshly. ‘Stop treating me like a fool. I know you want me to think you’re more stupid than you are, but you can’t hide the truth from me. If you want to keep secrets, learn to control your thoughts and your feelings. They glare out of you like TV advertisements half the time! I asked you a reasonable question, and I expect a reasonable answer. What do you propose to use Daniel Cranton for?’
‘I don’t know,’ Owen said. He stopped walking, forcing Othman to halt as well.
Rain ran down Othman’s face, his drenched hair. He waited patiently, allowing Owen to wrestle with the difficult decision of confiding in him or not. ‘You can trust me,’ he said.
Owen stared at him. ‘You know that place in the woods I took you to,’ he began.
‘The High Place?’
Owen nodded. ‘Well, Daniel can.. when Daniel’s there, something happens. It’s like an electric current or something, but you can absorb it.’
‘You will have to show this to me.’
Owen sighed. ‘I don’t think Daniel will go for that. Most of the time he won’t even admit to me that he has psychic talents. Also, he doesn’t know you.’
‘Then you must convince him.’
‘Mmm.’ Owen began walking again.
‘Do what you feel,’ Othman said. ‘Exactly what you feel. There are no judges upon this earth, other than human judges, and their judgements are worthless.’ He laughed. ‘You are trying to live by their rules, aren’t you, and it doesn’t work. Always, you are driven to break them. Then you feel bad about it. Like when we were all together the other night.’
Owen looked at him. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve no problem about what happened, just what you might be getting out of it.’
‘Well, now I hope you realise I’m concerned about you, and wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or Lily. That’s all the problems cleared up?’
‘Yes.’
‘So there’s no reason why you shouldn’t follow your instincts concerning Daniel Cranton, then?’
Owen was silent. Othman could sense that a realisation came to the boy concerning what Othman was actually suggesting. Eventually Owen said, ‘You want me to, don’t you?’
They had arrived back at the cottage. At the gate, Othman leaned forward and kissed Owen briefly on the lips. ‘Soon, I will be showing you unimaginable wonders,’ he said. ‘Just be patient and trust me. I won’t come in. The White House is only up the road. Just think about what I’ve said, and I’ll see you tomorrow night.’
Owen watched him go. What is that man? he wondered. Is he dangerous or useful?
Lily rapped her knuckles against the parlour window-pane. She’d obviously been watching out for them. Owen raised a hand, went inside. Lily came flying into the kitchen. ‘He kissed you! I saw!’
Owen took her in his arms, hugged her tight. ‘I love you,’ he said.
Lily was laughing. He realised she was excited. The remark about the kiss had not been made in censure, but desire.
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday 21st — Friday 23rd October: High Crag House, Cornwall
Enniel knew that Aninka would be divulging the end of her story during their next interview. As she made herself comfortable, as usual, on the sofa in his office, Aninka noticed a covered trolley beside the drinks cabinet. She recognised the outlines of plates heaped with food; more comforts than usual were to be provided, then. Enniel had no doubt guessed this last session would be the most traumatic for her. Already, her mouth felt dry at the prospect.
‘You will speak plainly, won’t you?’ Enniel said gently, placing a globe of brandy into her hands. Normally, he reserved the administering of liquor until the end of the session.
Aninka nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve already made up my mind about that.’ She glanced at him. ‘It will not be easy, but I’ll do it.’
Enniel smiled tightly and sat down behind his desk, creating the distance between them Aninka always needed to begin resuming her story. ‘Shall we start?’ His fingers hovered over the tape recorder.
‘Not yet.’ Aninka took a drink. ‘Enniel, I need to know why all this is so important to you. I get the feeling I was involved in something much bigger than I realised. I wonder how you’re going to use the information I’m giving you.’
Enniel withdrew his hand from the tape recorder. His expression was quizzical. ‘I don’t really know until I’ve heard the whole story. I have only suspicions, at present. I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t say more than that. Not yet. Now, can we begin?’
Aninka’s Story: Cresterfield, October
The last Friday night Aninka spent with Othman began like any other. Aninka drove over to Grey Gables early, after Othman had called her to tell her he’d be late and would see her at the Marks’ later on. She parked her car at the bottom of the drive. The smell of cooking muffins wafted from Wendy’s kitchen window, a scent which mingled pleasingly with the fruity, smoky late summer aromas that filled the air. Aninka hadn’t seen Wendy since the previous weekend as she’d had to go to Birmingham to organise a new exhibition of her work. Aninka had only been away for three days, but the enforced separation from Othman had been almost unendurable. She’d returned to the flat in the early hours of Friday morning, and had almost wept to find him there waiting for her. She’d wanted to devour him with love, and consequently had had very little sleep.
As she walked up the sloping driveway to Wendy’s house, Aninka remembered thinking how contented she was. Perhaps that had been tempting fate.
Ivan let Aninka in, greeting her with a brief hug and kiss. No-one else had yet arrived.
Wendy was busy preparing an ornate salad in the kitchen. ‘Mmm, garlic!’ Aninka said as she took off her soft wool jacket and slung it over a high stool.
Wendy seemed effervescent, bustling around in an almost manic manner. ‘Wait till you taste it!’
‘Oh, a new recipe?’
‘Variation on an old favourite. Pev has given me some ingredients to try.’
Othman had not struck Aninka as being interested in cookery before. She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Really! This is a side of the man I’ve never seen!’
Wendy picked up a little crock bowl full of what looked like raw incense: herbs, small twigs, chopped root. ‘Here it is. I think it has an unpronounceable name, can’t remember it.’
Aninka took the bowl and sniffed. It was sweet, like a flowery perfume, but also acrid when it hit the back of her throat. She pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure I want to eat this!’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It tastes divine. Ivan and I have had some already.’ Wendy giggled in an uncharacteristic manner. Aninka felt slightly unnerved: Wendy didn’t seem herself. ‘I told Pev last week about... well, he came round one evening to see Ivan, and arrived before Ivan got home from work. I don’t know quite how it happened, but I ended up telling him about...’ She lowered her voice, her eyes flicking briefly to the kitchen door. ‘...Misty.’
It was news to Aninka that Othman had visited the Marks without her. Still, should she be surprised? She knew so little about his movements when he wasn’t with her, and she only spent a few nights a week with him. No doubt hearing about the domes
tic problems of the Marks would have amused him; more ant behaviour to observe. ‘Was he a sympathetic listener?’ Her voice, she noticed, was sharp.
Wendy appeared to be oblivious of Aninka’s tone. ‘Oh, very. Our discussion was quite frank. He told me I needed a tonic, and Ivan too. Our lives have become... very routine. This herbal mixture has been very beneficial. I feel wonderful!’
Aninka picked up the crock bowl again, and stirred its contents with her finger. A suspicion came to her. Grigori rituals sometimes involved the use of haoma, a concoction of hallucinogenic herbs which could be eaten or smoked to induce ecstasy. Haoma was a highly secret substance. Would Othman dare to give some to the Marks? Aninka herself had never taken it. Once she’d been old enough to make a choice, she’d refused to become involved in magical work with her family. Children, naturally, weren’t ever given haoma.
‘What’s in it?’ Aninka asked.
Wendy shrugged. ‘Oh, just herbs and stuff. It’s all harmless, and none of the ingredients are illegal. Pev assured us of that. He said we could grow them all in our garden, if we wanted to.’
‘And you’re going to feed it to everyone tonight?’
Wendy frowned. ‘Why not? There’s no harm in cheering everyone up.’
‘I thought you all abstained from intoxicating substances until you’d performed your ritual.’ Aninka knew she sounded accusatory, but didn’t care. In her opinion, Othman was undermining the group, but perhaps he didn’t know Wendy planned to use the mixture in her meal tonight.
‘These are natural herbs,’ Wendy said. ‘It’s not the same. Pev said the ancient Sumerians used to use them. It’s a very old recipe.’
Aninka realised then that her suspicions concerning haoma were probably correct. What on earth was Othman playing at? Wendy was behaving differently tonight; there was an unfamiliar brittleness about her. Aninka could sense an edgy distance between herself and her friend. Had Othman said anything to cause that?
‘Pev has been very helpful to us recently,’ Wendy said. ‘He’s been having a few chats with Ivan about the rituals.’
‘Has he?’ Aninka interrupted sharply.
‘Yes. Didn’t he tell you? Well, he and Ivan have written something between them. Ivan says it’s splendid. We’ll have to use scripts, of course, because it’s so new, and no-one’s seen it yet, but we’re going to enact it tonight...’
‘Let me see it,’ Aninka said. She tried to keep the urgency from her voice. ‘I mean, can I see it?’
Wendy frowned. ‘I don’t think Ivan wants anyone to see it yet. It’s to be a surprise...’
‘Since when have you performed a ritual without everyone reading it first? Aninka asked. ‘I think we should see it, Wend’.’
Wendy had paused in the act of slicing a cucumber. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘It sounds as if you don’t trust Pev.’ She smiled. ‘I hope you’re not jealous!’
Aninka shook her head. ‘Oh, please! Of course not. I’m just surprised Pev has done this. He’s mentioned nothing to me.’
‘He probably just wants to surprise you too,’ Wendy said, resuming her slicing. She clearly had no suspicions. ‘I don’t think he’s actually written any of the ritual himself, but he’s lent Ivan some wonderful old books he’s found.’
‘What kind of books?’
‘Well, I suppose they’d be archaeological. Some scholar writing about ancient rites.’
Aninka’s flesh froze. ‘What kind of rites? Different to what you’ve been doing?’
Wendy laughed. ‘Oh, don’t look so alarmed! They’re not that different, apparently, but just a little more... authentic.’ She paused, and directed a look of appeal at Aninka. ‘Look, Ninka, you’ve been an enormous help to me, recently. Please don’t think I don’t appreciate that. I value our friendship. But it’s been good to see more of Pev, too. He’s helped me get a new perspective on things, a man’s view, I suppose. You know how worried I was about my marriage.’
‘I understand that,’ Aninka said, ‘but why didn’t you tell me about it? What did you think I’d say? I must admit I’m disappointed that you felt you had to keep Pev’s visits secret from me. He is my partner, after all.’ It unnerved Aninka to think Peverel Othman might have been paying visits to the Marks without her. Even more so that he seemed to be influencing their activities.
Wendy dropped her eyes. ‘Well, there didn’t seem that much to tell you! I... I really didn’t think to mention it, and anyway, I’ve only seen you a couple of times since it began, and then never alone.’ She sighed. ‘Look, Pev has just been here to see Ivan once or twice during the past two weeks. And while you’ve been away, he’s come for dinner every night. I think he was missing you.’ She looked up at Aninka and smiled hopefully. ‘We do enjoy his company, Ninka. Please don’t be cross about this. Pev’s so knowledgeable about the past.’
‘Wendy, I don’t think...’ Aninka began, but couldn’t think how to voice her suspicions without sounding as if she was being possessive about Othman. It was obvious the Marks thought highly of him, and believed he genuinely liked them and had an interest in their ceremonies. Aninka, having heard his scornful tirades against the group, knew otherwise. Or did she? To whom was Othman actually lying?
What is he up to? Aninka thought. Were his true motives for becoming associated with the group about to be revealed?
When Othman arrived, he was in a cheerful humour. As he greeted Aninka with a brief kiss to the cheek, she asked him in an undertone, ‘So, you’ve taken on the role of director, then?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with a little direction, surely?’ Othman responded lightly, and then avoided her eyes, moving away to greet the others, who were all waiting for his attention.
Aninka felt uneasy, but was unable to say anything more to Othman without being heard. Presumably, that was deliberate on Othman’s part. She sensed he was ‘off’ with her. What had she done to upset him since this morning?
Wendy emerged, beaming, from the kitchen. ‘Pev!’ She hurried forwards to embrace him, hanging onto him for just a little too long.
Aninka felt faintly sick. Were Wendy and Othman being awkward with her because something had happened between them while she’d been away? She felt as if the ground was shifting beneath her feet.
Othman handed Wendy a carrier bag, which clinked as it moved. ‘A rare vintage for my lady!’ he said.
Wendy cooed and batted her eyelashes — a reaction Aninka would have expected from Misty Kennedy rather than her friend. The bag contained three bottles of what appeared to be wine, which Aninka presumed were expensive. Nick Emmett apparently noticed her uneven temper. He appeared at her shoulder as everyone went to take their seats in the dining room. ‘Are you all right, Aninka? You look very frowny tonight.’
‘Mm? Oh, I’m fine. Fine.’ Aninka made an effort to smother her misgivings. It appeared she was the only one who could sense an unfamiliar tension in the air.
The wine was opened as Wendy brought the main course through from the kitchen. Aninka wanted to remind everyone that they usually abstained from alcohol until later, but realised the observation would not be appreciated tonight. Things were different.
Othman, sitting opposite Aninka, filled her glass. ‘Try it,’ he said.
Aninka eyed the liquid suspiciously; it was bright green in colour, like absinthe. ‘You are full of unexpected delights,’ she said smoothly, but did not take the glass he offered. ‘First salad condiments, now expensive liquor.’
‘Do try it,’ Othman said again. His eyes, she thought, were utterly cold. A thread of feeling, which contained both panic and misery, wove down her spine. Pev, what is happening?
Holding his eyes with her own, Aninka sipped the wine. She felt as if he’d offered her a cup of poison, and she was demonstrating her love for him by accepting it. The drink was unexpectedly sweet, almost honeyed, with the ghost of tart herbs in its flavour. She realised its perfume was similar to that of the herb mixture Wendy had put in the salad. Haoma
, Aninka thought, now sure of it. ‘What is this?’ she asked lightly. ‘A vintage untombed from the vaults of Ur, or something?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Othman answered with a wide grin. ‘Can’t you see the bottles are only three hundred years old?’
Aninka put down her glass. She felt estranged from her lover, as if she’d only just met him. This might as well be the first night he’d brought her to this house.
Wendy was heaping Aninka’s plate with moussaka and salad. The red and white cabbage was speckled with the dust of Othman’s mystery condiment. Aninka resolved not to touch it. She wanted, at that moment, to leave the house. Nick Emmett seemed a hot and unwelcome presence at her left side while, across from her, the ghoulish Serafina looked like a malevolent imp. For once, Serafina had managed to grab the seat next to Othman before Misty Kennedy had claimed it, and was now sitting there with a smug air of conquest. Let her have him, Aninka thought. She’s welcome. Sadly, she wished this could be true. How much power a person has over you when you love them. The thought was frightening.
A whoop of laughter came from down the table. Misty Kennedy had dropped a forkful of moussaka down her cleavage. Ivan, red-faced and grinning, was using his own fork to retrieve it. Aninka glanced at Wendy and was shocked by what she saw. Instead of wearing the tight expression of disapproval and defeat that Aninka would have expected, Wendy was smiling benignly at the tableau. Aninka felt totally disorientated. Was it possible she was sitting among strangers who had replaced the people she knew? She ate a small forkful of her moussaka.
‘You’re not eating much,’ Nick said, with apparent concern. ‘It’s really very good, too. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Absolutely,’ Aninka responded sharply. She took a drink of wine instead, forcing down the acid, sweet liquid. She felt she’d have to get drunk now to cope with the strange mood of the night, the suggestion of cold indifference from her lover, and Wendy’s bizarre behaviour. He’s going to get them all drunk or stoned she thought. The rite will be a travesty, or perhaps it’s necessary to be intoxicated to perform it. She glanced again at Misty and Ivan flirting unashamedly down the table. She drank more wine, and ate more moussaka. Perhaps the drink had stimulated her appetite, for now she felt ravenous. But she would not touch the salad.