Surface Tension by Joanna Hines

Author:Joanna Hines [Hines, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-0293-5
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2012-12-26T22:12:00+00:00

Chapter 13

OVER THE NEXT FEW days, it was hard to settle. The work at Shorters Barn was nearly finished and it was just a question of decorating and cleaning up. All the big decisions had been made. While I was laying paving stones or mixing limewash, my mind kept wandering back to the Heirs of Akasha. I wondered about the sessions I had missed. What exactly was supersensory perception, and how did the Akashic clock work? Was there any evidence for the civilisation of Atlantis? And how had Raymond and Pauline transformed themselves from a couple of ordinary people living in a sort-of commune into the leaders of a cult with centres in Spain, Mexico and Cornwall? Did they believe all that stuff themselves, or were they just spinning a line to extort money from gullible losers? Were they mad or bad or a bit of both?

I thought it would be easy to put it all behind me, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t help wishing I could sneak back for a quick half-hour in the AquaMed pool. I savoured the memory of the warm water bubbling round my body, the miraculous feeling of weightlessness as I was suspended from the floats and the powerful combination of sensuous and spiritual. I wondered if the whole thing had been designed to trigger some latent womb-memory—certainly I would have given a lot to experience that level of bliss again. Sometimes I thought I’d even put up with the nonsense that followed if it meant I could recapture the state of heightened perception I’d known for a few hours afterwards. Every leaf and cloud and glitter of light had been so intense I’d wanted to gasp with astonishment. Now, as I looked out of the window while the September rain came down it felt as if someone had put a pair of badly focused, dirty glasses over my eyes: my surroundings were muddy and dull and I wanted the colours back.

I told myself firmly I’d been conned by nothing more than a clever marketing ploy: I’d forget about it all soon enough.

And then, when I’d been home for less than a week, there were two phone calls that changed everything.

The first came on Sunday morning, about nine thirty. Gus and I were just finishing breakfast. These days we did a good impersonation of a happily married couple, so long as I didn’t overstep the mark. He’d made French toast and fresh orange juice and a large pot of coffee. Later that day the local scouts were due to come and pick some of the early apples to sell for charity. It was a long time since Grays Orchard had been a commercial venture, but in the six years I’d been there I’d tried to make sure the apples didn’t go entirely to waste. This would be the second season we’d used the Sturford scout troop and I wanted to make sure we had learned the lessons of last year. Gus and I were discussing this when the phone rang.

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