Mystical Circles

From the reviews of
Mystical Circles
:

‘intricate tapestry of human emotions and psyches with a romantic thread weaving through.’

Caroline Bailey,
creative arts specialist and ceramic artist

‘will captivate you from the first paragraph…like any good mystery the more I read the more questions I had… if a great mystery would not keep you reading there’s… romance as well.”

Marsha Randolph
, US reviewer

 ‘weaves romance…with spiritual searching and emotional needs, powerful universal themes.’

Marie Calvert,
arts psychotherapist and retreat leader

‘I fell in love with the beautiful house where the story is set and  wanted to go there immediately…intense and compelling.’

Eleanor M. Watkins
, author

 ‘romantic…colourful…well observed cast of characters at the retreat centre of the esoteric Wheel of Love…the community’s practices, and their effect on vulnerable individuals, ring true.’

Fay Sampson,
prizewinning author of ‘In the Blood’ and ‘A Malignant House’

‘a gripping read … I wanted to get to the end to find out who were the “goodies” and the “baddies” … and to know what would happen to Juliet and her sister.’

Frances Smith,
Bookseller,
Warwick and Kenilworth Books (voted one of the best 50 bookshops in the UK
)

Mystical Circles

S.C. SKILLMAN

Blue Lily Press

www.scskillman.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2010

Revised edition published in 2012 by

Blue Lily Press

Copyright © S.C. Skillman

ISBN: 978-1-4461-5350-5

The right of S.C. Skillman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Grateful acknowledgement is made to J.M. Dent, an imprint of The Orion Publishing Group, London for
The Bright Field
by R.S. Thomas; Hamish MacGibbon for
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith; Faber & Faber for
Valentine
by Wendy Cope; Hodder & Stoughton for Celtic poem in
The Celtic Way of Prayer
by Esther de Waal;  Denise Levertov for
Writing in the Dark
from
Candles in Babylon
, copyright ©1982 by Denise Levertov, reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp; University of Nebraska Press for
For My Daughter
by Weldon Kees, reprinted from
The Collected Poems of Weldon Kees
edited by Donald Justice copyright 1962,1975, by the University of Nebraska Press © renewed 2003 by the University of Nebraska Press; Penguin for
The Great Gatsby
by F. Scott Fitzgerald; Lenono Music for
Beautiful Boy
by John Lennon; Scholastic for
The Subtle Knife
by Philip Pullman; and Rev. Margaret & Rev. Richard Deimel for
Liturgy for Midsummer Eve.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Cover design M.D. James 2012

Mystical Circles

To my father Ken,

who first gave me a stamped addressed envelope

 to submit my stories to a London publisher

 when I was twelve years old

and to David, Abigail and Jamie for their patience and support throughout the creation of this book

1

Arrival

Juliet was trembling. It had all happened so fast. The explosion of anger between the two men. The rush for the car park. The engine roaring into life. As the rear lights picked her out, she dodged aside just in time. The next thing she heard was a loud bang. And the sickening crunch of metal giving way. And a fountain of fragmenting glass.

He’d slammed on the brakes too late.

And it was all her fault.

*****

Juliet’s palms were slippery on the steering wheel; she wiped the sweat away from her upper lip. The air conditioning might offset the strong heat of this June day, but not the burning anxiety she felt. Even the spectacular beauty of the high limestone hills and deep valleys as she headed west from the A417 had failed to calm her. A sign half hidden by the trees proclaimed that she’d found ‘
The Wheel of Love
’. She turned in at the entrance.

Further down the valley, she could see the two steeply pitched gables of the farmhouse with its mellow honey-coloured stone. It looked idyllic. But that held no pleasure for her; her stomach twisted with apprehension for Zoe.

She drove round the house to the gravel parking area at the back. A Bentley and a Saab were parked up against the woodland fence. She was about to nose her Renault Mégane in between them then realised there wasn’t quite enough room, and reversed into the space on the other side of the Saab. She drew to a halt and turned the engine off.

She pulled a copy of an email from the door pocket. A few phrases leapt out at her with the same force as when she’d first read them.

Hi, you in crowded, stressed old London from me in the peaceful, perfect Cotswolds…massive change of plan…I’m in love…Craig invited me out for supper…got to know him a whole lot better…gorgeous, sexy, intelligent…all I ever dreamed of…moved to his place…fantastic farmhouse a few miles from Cirencester…group called Wheel of Love…changes people’s lives…won’t be coming back…glad to leave London…paradise here…staying for ever…why not visit?... Material for a documentary here!..I’ll tell Craig you’re ringing…know what you’re like with a story.

See what you think!

Love Zoe.

Juliet bit her lip, folding the sheet of paper. Zoe’s tone still needled her as much as when she’d first read it. Zoe knew her sister wouldn’t be able to resist coming to find out what was going on. And the suggestion about a documentary had worked out just as Zoe had proposed. Still, Juliet didn’t like it, not one bit.

She was deeply suspicious of this Craig guy, for a start.

But friends and colleagues hadn’t been at all sympathetic. One had said,
Hey, the love of her life and the truths of the universe all wrapped up in one package – great!
But Juliet knew she needed to come and see the situation for herself.

Another colleague had advised her to wait and see if this infatuation would blow over, despite the tone of the email. Not a hope. Not if Juliet knew Zoe. Too late now, anyway. She was here.

She had, in the limited time available, done a bit of research into whatever powers Craig might produce. Psychological powers, she thought most likely. Mind control. That sort of thing. But, as she’d discovered when she’d googled the subject,
Knowledge is power
.

Prepare yourself: that was the key. Know what you’re up against.

So thinking, she stuffed the copy email into her shoulder-bag, pushed the door open and jumped out. Ahead of her she could see the north-facing wall of a fine tithe barn. The stonework all looked in perfect condition.

The atmosphere closed in around her. She drew a deep breath and felt strangely unsatisfied. Going to the back of the car, she opened the boot to lift her suitcase, laptop and portable recorder out. Setting them down on the ground, she locked the car.

As she turned, a champagne cork in the gravel drew her eye. She picked it up and twisted it in her hands, pondering. Then she glanced towards the back door, and saw the discarded bottle lying there. Going across, she took hold of that too.

She was suddenly aware of being watched.

A silver-haired man appraised her. “Found the champagne so soon?”

She straightened. “No. The bottle was empty when I saw it on the ground.”