The Magic Cottage (33 page)

My eyes were beginning to glaze over. This was worse than Sunday sermon (as far as I could remember).

I stole a glance at Midge, and her face was serious, her eyes fixed on Mycroft’s.

‘How is it achieved?’ she asked, and I shifted awkwardly on the arm of the sofa; she was spoon-feeding him all the right questions. ‘How does a person learn to combine with this spirit?’

Mycroft let his smile wander among his followers, and they smiled back as if they shared the secret. ‘It takes time,’ he said, returning his gaze to Midge, ‘and it requires a great deal of humility. Adoptives must surrender their thoughts, their wills. They must let the Founder have responsibility for all they do.’

Even Midge, in her present state of blind fascination, blanched at that.

‘That’s asking a lot of someone, isn’t it?’ I remarked.

‘The rewards are impressive,’ he countered smoothly.

‘What would they be?’

‘One-ness in spirit.’

‘Sounds terrific.’

His flicker of annoyance was barely discernible.

‘A regeneration of the mind’s powers.’

I nodded as though checking off a list.

‘A harnessing of earthly thaumaturgic potency.’

Now that did sound impressive, whatever the hell it meant. I felt it only right that I should ask.

‘Unless you subjected yourself to each stage of the Synergist development,’ he said by way of an answer, ‘you could not hope to understand. Would you acknowledge now, for instance, that vast sources of power lie beneath our feet?’

I caught some anxious expressions directed at him from the others in the room, but Mycroft remained impassive.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Everybody accepts there’s huge energy resources in the earth. There’s nothing astounding about that proposition.’

‘I’m referring to a power much more intangible, Mike, but equally real. Something incorporeal, yet vast in its reserves. And we, mankind, have almost –
almost
– forgotten how to avail ourselves of that force.’

Self-knowledge, oneness, regeneration, potency, thaumaturgic (
thaumaturgic?
), intangible, incorporeal (always a good one), and now of course, mankind – all those profound (and cliché) words you find in books on religion or the occult which sound great but leave you scratching your head wondering what it’s all about.

‘You’ve lost me completely,’ I said flatly.

He smiled maddeningly again and I think my dumb incomprehension came almost as a relief to him, as though my provocation had led him into giving away too much, and now he was able to draw back. His philosophy obviously had to be administered in much smaller doses.

But Midge was more persistent. ‘Is that how you healed Mike’s hand so quickly, someone combining your will with this special force? Is this power the spirit, the
Divine
Spirit, that you’ve mentioned before?’

I took a large swallow of wine.

‘Ah, so young and so perceptive,’ Mycroft patronized. ‘But not entirely correct. The human will can be extremely potent by itself.’

She looked confused and I wanted to draw her close. I wondered how she’d react if I invited our guests to take a hike.

Something struck a window from outside – probably a bird, or maybe even a disorientated bat – and Kinsella spilt his drink. He and his friends turned towards the window, but Midge’s attention remained on the Synergist leader.

‘When we . . . when we spoke before, last week at the Temple, you told me that our individual spirit never loses its potential even if the body dies and even if the spirit has been neglected during the body’s life.’

He nodded slowly.

‘And you said that we, ourselves, could reach those spirits of the dead.’

‘With guidance,’ said Mycroft. ‘But why so cautious? Why are you so afraid to voice your hopes? We spoke of your parents and I assured you then that the souls which existed within them can be touched, and heard, once more. That part of us will never expire.’

‘Then will you help me . . .?’

‘Midge!’ I didn’t want her to go on with this.

‘No, Mike. If it can happen, then that’s what I want. More than anything!’ She turned back to Mycroft.

‘What good will it do?’ I demanded. ‘You’re only opening yourself up for more heartache, don’t you see that?’

‘I understand your concern for Midge,’ Mycroft interrupted. ‘And it’s precisely because of your love for her that you should support her in this matter. I know you’re aware that she feels a deep need to be reconciled with her parents.’

‘Reconciled?’ I stared at her and she lowered her face.

Mycroft was watching her too. He opened his mouth in an unvoiced ‘ah’ of comprehension, then settled back in the armchair.

‘What’s he talking about?’ I leaned over and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me.

‘Mike, I . . .’

She pulled her head away.

‘Would it be easier if I answered for you?’ said Mycroft. ‘I had no idea that you hadn’t confided your feelings to Mike, but now I understand. Sometimes it’s easier to reveal oneself to a sympathetic stranger than a loved one.’

‘Midge, if there’s something I should know, I’d rather it came from you,’ I insisted. ‘And I’d rather we were alone when you told me.’

Gillie put her hand on Midge’s, and it was Kinsella who spoke up: ‘This is sounding more dramatic than it really is, Mike. In our view, Midge’s guilt is unfounded, but it needs to be dug out and tossed away before real damage is done. We can help her do that.’

‘Guilt? What the fuck are you talking about?’ I looked around at them all, bewildered, exasperated, and pretty angry, too.

Midge abruptly shifted round to me, her hands clutching my leg. ‘On the day of my father’s funeral, when I left Mother in the house – I knew, Mike, I
knew
she would take her own life! She’d spoken of it so many times, before his death even, hating the burden she’d become to both of us. When he died, suicide was on her mind more and more, something she mentioned every day and every night! But calmly, never hysterically, never emotionally. She was so sad, Mike, but she never indulged in self-pity. All she cared about was that her misery shouldn’t ruin my life! And when I left her in the house that morning – alone in that cold, empty house – I felt it so strongly, so overpoweringly, but I never went back. I never tried to stop her!’

I shook my head despairingly.

‘Midge, you couldn’t know she would kill herself. Okay, you might have had the notion because she was so desperately unhappy and suffering physical pain, but you didn’t hand her those pills, you didn’t tie that plastic bag around her head! I can’t believe you’ve been blaming yourself all these years.’

‘I realized if the opportunity arose Mother might—’

‘
Might!
That isn’t the same as knowing for sure. It was her choice, don’t you understand that! And what was so bad about that, for Chrissake? Don’t you think your mother suffered enough? All she did was show herself a little mercy.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Nothing ever is. But even if you did feel so guilty, why go to these people, why tell them? Jesus, Midge, what was wrong in telling me?’

‘I’d kept . . . I’d kept it hidden for so long.’ Her grip tightened on my leg. ‘That knowledge has never weighed so heavily on me until recently, Mike. It was only when I talked with Mycroft that I realized the guilt had been with me for so long.’

Friend Mycroft. I eyed him coolly.

And received some satisfaction from observing that he actually looked unsettled. Mistakenly, I assumed he was becoming wary of my anger.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t short of words. ‘I merely sought to understand the nature of Midge’s deep-rooted grief, possibly to expose her self-doubts. Can’t you see that she needs our guidance?’

‘I can see that you’ve made her believe that. Any help she needs, she can get from me.’

‘Not in the way that we can help.’

He’d become distracted, peering around the room.

‘What can you do?’ I retorted. ‘Hold a seance, is that how you’ll help her?’

‘She has a unique gift . . .’

His voice trailed off when someone moaned. On the floor, Neil Joby was tugging at his shirt collar as if he found the atmosphere stifling. It did feel close in the room, but not uncomfortably so.

‘Mike, you’ve got them wrong.’ Midge was looking up at me with earnest eyes. ‘Synergism is an answer if it’s used correctly. If—’

‘Jesus, you’re really falling for this shit.’

She sprang away as though I’d struck her.

I quickly modified my tone. ‘Listen to me: if there was any guilt over your mother’s death locked up inside you, then it was minimal. Christ, I know you better than anyone, and that’s something you could never have concealed from me. All this guy’s done . . .’ I stabbed a finger in Mycroft’s direction ‘. . . is made you exaggerate the guilt in your own mind. Can’t you see how he operates? It’s nothing new – most religious nuts work on people’s own self-imposed shame.’

She kept shaking her head, refusing to hear the words.

‘You’re wrong,’ she said, ‘you’re so wrong . . .’

Something made me glance at Mycroft then, and I just caught the hint of triumph in his smile. The smile instantly turned into one of well-practised friendliness, forgiving me for my folly.

‘Fuck you,’ I said quietly.

A glass tipped over and wine spread on the carpet. Kinsella watched the liquid soak in before turning towards his leader and mentor.

And now Mycroft himself didn’t look so bright.

The windows rattled in their frames and attention was diverted towards them. I noticed that Joby was deathly pale and still appeared to be having trouble catching his breath.

Rafters overhead creaked.

The sharpness of the sound startled Gillie so much that she stood and peered up at the ceiling.

‘There’s a wind blowing up outside,’ I said, feeling no particular antagonism towards her. ‘Don’t worry, the roof’ll stay on.’

She seemed uncertain.

I pointed at Joby and addressed my next remark to Mycroft. ‘I hope he’s not going to puke on the carpet.’

Now the front door across the hallway shook in its frame.

Mycroft rose and walked over to the younger man, placing a hand on his forehead. He mumbled a few words and I strained to hear, but the words were spoken too softly.

Joby noisily cleared his throat and recovered enough to push himself to his knees. Kinsella, looking shaky himself, grabbed his friend from behind and helped him the rest of the way up.

Even Gillie swayed uneasily on her feet.

Mycroft positioned himself before Midge, studying her with eyes that were now hooded. Had I really once thought his face was bland? It wasn’t only shadows making his countenance creepy now, but his expression also. Mr Hyde was showing through.

His words were slow and penetrating, said in a low voice. ‘Remember, we can help you. Believe in the regeneration of the spirit, understand that there are few barriers to the human will.’

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d handed her his business card.

He took his eyes from her and surveyed the room once more, lingering on the windows, resuming the scan, taking in everything.

A different noise came to us, and it was from above our heads, a muffled pattering, almost a soft vibration, rising and swaying in volume and rhythm.

A frantic beating of small wings.

I knew where the noise was coming from and who was making it, and I began to get as nervous as our guests.

‘Mycroft,’ said Kinsella, a hint of pleading in his tone. ‘It’s time to go.’

Joby, sagging visibly, seemed in agreement. In fact, the three young Synergists looked as if strength was gradually draining from them. They were all very pale.

The windowpanes shook so hard I thought they might shatter. This time I was the one who jumped to his feet. Only Midge remained sitting.

‘I’ll see you out,’ I told the Synergists.

Mycroft turned to me, no hostility in his gaze, only a cool appraisal.

‘You mustn’t stand in her way,’ he said to me.

‘What I can’t figure,’ I replied, starting to feel a bit trembly, ‘is why you’re so interested in Midge. D’you always take this kind of trouble to convert a new face?’

On the surface, his manner was easy, almost casual; but the giveaway was his eyes which were constantly moving, flicking this way and that, like those of a jungle explorer waiting for the first poison dart.

Midge, hunched forward on the sofa, hands clasped together on knees, spoke up: ‘Would you
please
stop talking about me as though I’m not in the room? Mike, there are certain things that you obviously have no interest in, nor comprehension of, so please don’t interfere. These people are my friends –
our
friends – and all they care about is my peace of mind.’

‘Don’t you think I care too?’

‘Then show me! Help me!’

‘We’ll talk about it when they’re gone,’ I said more calmly than I felt.

‘Yes, you should,’ said Mycroft, the condescending bastard. ‘Mike has a right to his opinions. It isn’t difficult to appreciate his scepticism given the usually poor and biased publicity that sects such as ours attract. Misguided though they are, these prejudices are accepted and tolerated by our members. We’ve learned to have patience.’

Mine had just run out. I strode across to the open door and stood by it, my meaning fairly evident.

Mycroft smiled, but I could see the grimness there. He reached down and touched Midge’s forehead in the same manner he’d touched Joby’s earlier.

The frantic, if dulled, drumming from overhead was becoming hard to ignore, and the air in the room seemed too warm, too thick, despite the wind outside rattling the windows.

My head shot round when the door across the hallway rampaged against its lock and hinges.

Alarmed, I backed away, but at least the Synergists were galvanized into action. The three younger members grouped together and Mycroft indicated that they were to follow him. They came towards me like a worried Scout pack looking for the way home, Kinsella and Gillie supporting their companion between them. I observed, not without pleasure, that even the Synergist leader was wilting slightly under the heavy atmosphere.