‘I’m well aware of that. I met my fair share of cowboy therapists in California, believe me. So, I think it’s essential that, as well as the unregulated ones, we get some people involved who have recognized qualifications. Quite a lot of GPs working in conventional medicine are open to the idea of alternative therapies, you know. The two are not so far apart. Doctor friend of mine, Bob Rawley, is very keen on the idea of co-operation between them. If the centre I’m trying to get going existed, he’d definitely be doing acupuncture there. And of course, he’d refer patients who he thought might benefit. Complementary medicine, I’m sure that’s the future.’
‘I don’t disagree. But I think you would have to be very careful about who you let in. It only takes one charlatan to unleash a storm of bad publicity and put the image of our profession back a couple of decades.’
‘I’m well aware of that. But I think we find the right practitioners by the same method as we currently do clients. Word of mouth, personal recommendation.’
‘It could take a long time.’
‘Yes, it could. But I’m thinking of the benefits of having a talented group of therapists all in touch with each other, exchanging new ideas, referring clients to each other …’
‘Hm,’ said Jude, hoping it didn’t sound too much like one of Carole’s ‘Hm’s. It was rarely that she was as sceptical as her neighbour, but this was fast becoming one of those occasions.
‘Look …’ Jeremiah almost sounded as though he were pleading ‘… I’m suggesting that we start in a small way and slowly build up the reputation of the place, until it becomes a recognized centre of excellence for alternative therapies.’
This plan sounded naïve to Jude, which rather surprised her, because Jeremiah hadn’t given her the impression of being a naïve person. ‘OK. That’s all very fine, but let’s face the biggest question: how do you fund such an enterprise?’
‘From the therapists who use the facility. When they join, they sign a contract agreeing to pay a percentage of their fees – I don’t know, say ten per cent – into a communal pot which pays for the premises.’
Jude grimaced wryly. ‘But how do you start? All right, you find your premises … and I assume you’re talking about renting, not buying … and at that point you have no therapists signed up … or maybe one or two … So, where do you find the first month’s rent? Or, come to that, the second month’s rent? Or—’
‘Yes, all right. I take your point. I’d be prepared to fund the start-up. For a few months.’
‘Oh? Do you have a secret supply of money?’
‘Why does it have to be a secret supply?’
‘Come on, Jeremiah. You’re a healer. Very few healers make enough to trouble HM Revenue and Customs.’
‘All right.’ He coloured. ‘I don’t have a lot of money, no, but I would be prepared to invest what I do have into a project I believe in.’ He looked at her expectantly.
‘I don’t have much money either, Jeremiah,’ she said, and paused before continuing, ‘but I’m afraid, if I did, I wouldn’t be investing it in your therapy centre … if that’s what you were asking me to do?’
‘Well, not exactly … I mean, obviously, I would have been delighted if you had wanted to contribute, but I wanted to see you more to use you as a sounding board, to see if you think the project is a good idea.’
Jude twisted her lips. ‘It may be a good idea, Jeremiah. That I don’t know. But it’s not a good idea for me.’
‘Oh?’
‘For me, healing is a very private interaction between me and the client. I need privacy to build up the required concentration. Though I am sure that working in a place where there were lots of other therapists with whom to exchange ideas would be very pleasant socially, I don’t think it would help me to do my job. I think it might actually make it more difficult.’
‘Oh well.’ Jeremiah grinned, a reassuring grin. ‘Fair enough. I thought it was worth asking.’
‘Always worth asking anything.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how long have you been in the area, since you came back from Australia?’
‘Getting on for six months now.’
‘In Fethering?’ If so, Jude was surprised she hadn’t seen him around.
‘No Fedborough.’ He referred to the larger town, some six miles upstream on the River Fether.
‘And are you liking it here?’
‘Yes, very pleasant area. I should think it’s nicer in the summer.’
‘Certainly is.’
‘We just caught the end of the last one, then a rather wet autumn.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Jude had registered the ‘we’. Suggested he had a partner, a wife maybe. She felt the smallest of pangs.
‘Anyway, I seem to have built up quite a respectable list of clients. Some over in Worthing, and as far away as Portsmouth to the West.’
Jude nodded. ‘That’s more or less my catchment area too.’
‘No lack of ailments on the Costa Geriatrica,’ said Jeremiah with a grin.
It was the first thing he’d said wrong. Nothing overt, but just a slight hint of callousness, as though the clients existed for his benefit more than because they were people needing help.
There was a silence, then Jeremiah said, ‘I heard in the Crown and Anchor that your neighbour was actually present at Shefford’s Garage when that awful accident happened.’
‘Yes. Carole Seddon. She was.’
‘Terrible business.’
‘Mm. Did you know Bill Shefford?’
Jeremiah shrugged. ‘I’d met him. Been in there to get petrol, that’s all. Did you?’
Jude shook her head. ‘Like you, I’d met him. You don’t have to be long in a place like Fethering before you know everyone. But I only knew Bill for a polite nod and a “Good morning”.’
‘Your friend Carole knew him better?’
‘A bit. She always went to Shefford’s when there was something wrong with her precious Renault. I don’t have a car.’
‘Ah.’ Another silence. ‘Needless to say, a lot of speculation about the death last time I was in the Crown and Anchor.’
‘You don’t surprise me. Everyone convinced it was murder – and the perpetrator identified as everyone from Cain the Killer of Abel to Russian undercover agents?’
‘That’s about right.’ He grinned. ‘Does your neighbour have a view?’
‘On whether Bill Shefford was murdered?’
‘Mm.’
‘What makes you think she might?’
‘The landlord at the Crown and Anchor …’
‘Ted Crisp.’
‘Ah. I didn’t get his name.’
‘He mentioned that you two had a bit of a reputation locally as amateur sleuths.’
‘Did he?’ said Jude drily. ‘Well, it is the view of my neighbourly Miss Marple that Bill Shefford’s death was an accident. Sorry to disappoint you.’
‘I’ll survive.’ Jeremiah’s smile suggested he wasn’t that disappointed. ‘Oh, incidentally …’
‘Mm?’
‘I wondered if you had been contacted by a woman called Natalie Kendrick …?’
‘Why?’ Jude was instantly and instinctively alert. If Jeremiah was going to ask her about her healing work, he would find her surprisingly circumspect. She had high standards about protecting the confidentiality of her clients.
‘Just that she consulted me about helping her son. Boy – well, man – called Tom. I wondered whether she might have contacted you too.’
‘Why should she have done?’ asked Jude, still cagey.
‘Because I was no bloody use to her. Or to him.’
Jude considered her moral position. Technically, Tom Kendrick was not one of her clients. She had talked to him, at his mother’s request, and didn’t reckon she could help with whatever was wrong with him … if indeed there was anything wrong with him. Jeremiah, who had gone further into the therapeutic process, didn’t seem to be constrained by any confidentiality worries. So, there was no reason why she should discuss Tom with him.