‘Her name’s Jude.’
‘I think I’d heard that. Is it true that she works as a healer?’
‘Yes,’ said Carole, immediately envisioning Gwyneth’s demand to be put in contact, followed by Jude’s successful treatment of her new client, and a triumphant, but rather embarrassingly sentimental ‘Take up thy bed and walk’ scenario.
But Gwyneth’s next words instantly deleted such images. ‘I don’t believe in healers,’ she said, warming the very cockles of her visitor’s heart.
‘I agree,’ said Carole sleekly. ‘There are a lot of charlatans out there.’
‘Very true. There were a couple operating where we used to live. I think a lot of them do more harm than good. Raising people’s hopes about miracle cures. There ought to be a law against it.’
‘You’re right. Do you speak from experience, though? I mean, have you tried to get alternative therapy for your’ – Carole felt awkward for having strayed on to the subject – ‘condition?’
‘I certainly have not. It’s my view that, if you’ve got something that the NHS can’t deal with, then you should just accept the hand that life has dealt you and get on with it.’
This so exactly reflected Carole’s own views that she produced a ringing, ‘I do so agree.’
She then realized that she hadn’t yet gone through the mandatory local routine for new residents. ‘So, Gwyneth,’ she asked, ‘how’re you liking Fethering?’
This was met by a shrug. ‘I haven’t seen a lot of it. I don’t go out much.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …’
‘Don’t worry. I can go out. Adrian has pushed me along to the parade and the edge of the dunes. It all looks as an English village should. But I prefer to stay indoors.’
‘Oh.’
‘There’s something rather pathetic in being confined to a wheelchair at my age. I don’t want to advertise my disability. The last thing I want is people’s pity.’
‘I can see that.’ And Carole could. Though she hoped she never ended up in a comparable situation, she could imagine herself reacting in a similar way. The worst emotion to inspire in others was pity.
‘But you like it here?’ asked Gwyneth, quite sharply.
‘Yes. Well … I mean it does have the disadvantages that go with village life …’
‘Gossip?’
‘That kind of thing, yes.’
‘Tell me about it. Just the same in Ilkley. Villages, small towns … I don’t think there’s anywhere you can escape gossip. That was one of the reasons we moved.’
‘Oh?’ asked Carole, instantly alert.
Gwyneth quickly covered up the lapse (if lapse it was). ‘Not the main reason, obviously. Adrian was retiring and we both felt like a change of scene. Then we didn’t really need all the space we had in the Ilkley house, so downsizing made sense. And moving would be a kind of adventure.’
A strange word to use, Carole thought. Moving from one home you had to negotiate in a wheelchair to another where you would face exactly the same problem. Or maybe the Yorkshire house held memories of a fully functional Gwyneth, who had led a normal life until the illness or accident that had crippled her. Carole was intrigued to know the details, but she didn’t think this was the right moment to press for them. She had a feeling she would be seeing a lot more of Gwyneth; time enough to hear the full story of how she had been crippled.
Back at High Tor, Gulliver greeted her with the wild enthusiasm of a dog about to get another walk, and then slunk back to his station by the Aga when it was clear that hope wasn’t going to be realized.
Carole stood by the work surface, assembling a cottage-cheese salad for her lunch. She was glad Jude wasn’t there watching. Jude’s views on the subject of cottage cheese were unprintable.
Then, looking out of the kitchen window, Carole saw something white on the back lawn. A piece of paper. She went out to investigate. Though she left the back door open, Gulliver didn’t follow. He knew the limitations of the back garden. Going out that way was never the preface to what he considered a proper walk.
It was a piece of paper. Slid into a transparent envelope to keep the rain off.
It read: ‘DON’T THINK YOU’RE OFF THE HOOK YET.’
TEN
Jeremiah was a tall man, probably in his late forties, well muscled with a bulk that could have been intimidating. But it wasn’t, because he also carried with him an air of calm. Jude could imagine him being a compelling charismatic preacher. That did not lessen her suspicion of him.
But, as they talked, she found herself warming to Jeremiah. He seemed to anticipate all possible objections. Like her, he had, throughout his career, needed to be ready for accusations of charlatanism and, like her, he had his arguments well marshalled.
Also, Jude could not be unaware, he found her attractive. Over the years, she had got used to this response from men. She never took it too seriously. In most cases, it caused her no more than mild irritation, but with a few her reaction was different. With some, knowing they found her attractive gave her a warm glow. Jeremiah quickly enlisted himself into that small category.
‘I know a lot of us in the profession,’ he was saying, ‘are altruistic about the way we use our gifts. But the fact remains that we all have to make a living, and I’ve kept thinking of ways to simplify the way our income is generated. We can do a certain amount through the local press, social media can be very effective, but the best way to find new clients is always going to be word of mouth, personal recommendation.’
His views perfectly reflected her own. ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she said.
‘But I was thinking this is still a fairly hit-and-miss approach, particularly for someone like me, just moving to a new area.’
‘Remind me – where is it you’ve come from?’
‘Australia most recently. And some years in the States before that.’
‘Useful experience?’
‘Very definitely. Particularly in the States. California, they’re way ahead of this country in their appreciation of alternative therapies. I went to some very good alternative therapy conferences there, learned a lot.’
‘Yes, I find conferences very useful. Going to one in a couple of weeks, actually. In Leeds.’
‘Oh, what’s it called?’
‘“Healing Is in the Head”.’ Jude was glad Carole wasn’t there. She could imagine the derision that title would prompt.
‘Oh, thanks, I’ll check it out online. Anyway, as I’m sure you know, wherever you practise as a healer, it’s still a hand-to-mouth existence … or is that expression the exclusive property of dentists?’
Jude grinned at the half-joke. ‘So …’ he went on, ‘I was wondering whether the situation might be improved by setting up a centre for alternative therapies … you know, a permanent venue where people know they can come for a variety of treatments.’
Forewarned by Ted Crisp that this might be the reason Jeremiah wanted to contact her, Jude had had time to form her reactions to the idea. And the main one was scepticism. But she didn’t express that straight away. First, find out how much Jeremiah had thought the idea through. ‘What, you mean like one of those spas in expensive hotels where they’ll cover you with hot stones, drip candle wax on you and walk up and down your back?’
She was proud of the sarcasm in her question – Carole couldn’t have done it better – but Jeremiah grinned, as if he’d anticipated her approach. ‘You know I don’t mean that, Jude. Not somewhere expensive, just somewhere accessible and welcoming. I’m talking about a centre staffed by serious practitioners.’
‘Ah, but how do you find them? And how do you check the authenticity of their “seriousness”? As you know, we’re talking about a professional area that is not very well policed. Anyone can wake up one morning, decide they’re going to be a healer or some other kind of therapist, put a brass plate on their door and wait for the gullible public to stream in.’