Kingdom of Shadows. Barbara Erskine

      Gillian sniffed. ‘Well, you’d better warn him. David can’t have the Royland name involved in any scandals.’

      ‘I thought our dear Member of Parliament was involved with environmental issues. He’s got no interests in the City, surely.’ Clare stooped and threw a log on the fire.

      ‘Only his father’s shares which they all got. Nothing else. And of course he’s declared his interests there. But his reputation has to be protected. If there were the slightest whiff of dishonesty in the family it could be disastrous for his career.’

      ‘Well there isn’t.’ Clare flared up suddenly. ‘So stop being so bloody self-righteous! Why doesn’t he stop worrying about Paul and worry about the environment instead? Places like Duncairn, for instance. I’ve had an offer to buy it from an oil company. They want to destroy that beautiful place!’

      ‘You’ve actually had an offer?’ Gillian echoed. ‘You mean there’s oil there? No wonder Paul wants you to sell it!’

      ‘I told them there was no question of selling, ever.’ Clare hesitated. ‘They can’t make me, can they?’

      ‘I don’t think so. But I have an awful feeling that the oil isn’t yours. The government can take it any time they like, can’t they?’ Gillian grimaced. ‘I’ll ask David if you like. He’ll know.’

      ‘They never wrote back after I turned down their offer, so I hoped the matter was closed.’

      Gillian stood up with a groan and put her hand to her back. ‘Well, I hope for your sake it is. I must go. I’m terrified I’m going to drop this child on someone’s carpet. It’s due any second, and they come so quickly …’ She smiled smugly. ‘Take care of yourself, Clare. Don’t let Paul bully you. And tell him to forget about the trust. OK?’

      Geoffrey Royland arrived at ten o’clock the following morning at the wheel of a dusty Audi estate. He was wearing his dog collar, with a rumpled rust-coloured sweater. Following Clare into the cold drawing room he stared around as she set the tray of coffee on the table.

      ‘I’m sorry the fire’s not lit. Sarah went shopping for me early and she must have forgotten. It’ll soon warm up in here.’ She handed him a cup, then, glancing out of the windows at the garden which was still swathed in damp mist, she reached for the matches and knelt before the fire. ‘I suppose you’ve come about the trust as well. I had Gillian here yesterday.’ She sat back and watched as the flame flared on the firelighter and spread to the rest of the kindling, licking along the twigs and across the bark of the apple logs. Behind her, her brother-in-law stood, coffee cup in hand, and stared down at her thoughtfully.

      ‘I was passing on my way up to Norwich actually,’ he said after a pause. ‘I thought it would be nice to look in and see how you were. I’m not here about the trust.’

      ‘Good, because it’s nothing to do with me. You and David and Paul can fight it out between you.’

      He studied her for a moment. She was looking particularly attractive in a flared emerald-green skirt and green and black sweater. He had always thought her a good-looking woman, particularly her eyes. There was something especially appealing about her eyes. But he was shocked to see how tired and strained she was looking.

      ‘I was so sorry, Clare, to hear about the results of the tests.’ He sat down and balanced his cup on his knee. ‘Chloe told me. I hope you don’t mind.’ He saw her knuckles whiten on the poker as she stirred the fire and he paused for a moment waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t he went on gently, ‘Have you and Paul discussed adoption?’

      ‘We haven’t discussed anything much lately.’ She put the poker down, but she stayed where she was, staring into the fire with her back to him. ‘I’m just glad all the tests and things are over.’

      ‘You’re not going to seek a second opinion then?’

      ‘No.’ She tightened her lips.

      ‘I see.’ He paused again, then he went on, choosing his words with care. ‘And are you going to go on with your study of yoga?’

      ‘How did you know I was studying yoga?’ Slowly Clare stood up. When she turned to face him she had remembered Chloe’s call and she was smiling impishly. ‘Of course. Emma told you, didn’t she?’

      ‘She mentioned it, yes.’ Geoffrey looked down at his cup. ‘My dear, I don’t want you to think I’m interfering, but I was a little concerned when I heard what you were doing. Can we talk about it?’

      ‘That sounds very portentous, Geoffrey.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Does the Church of England disapprove of yoga?’

      ‘Yoga is often misunderstood, Clare. Practitioners of it tend to emphasise the fact that it is just a method of exercising and relaxing one’s body. They play down the fact, either intentionally or because they do not know it, that it is also a spiritual exercise, designed to bring about changes in one’s whole psyche, and that if one does it properly it can open and expose one’s mind and soul, and leave them very vulnerable.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Does that sound very pompous?’

      She nodded. ‘I’m afraid it does rather. A far cry from the classes they give in the village hall here.’

      ‘But you didn’t learn it in the village hall, did you?’ He put down his coffee cup. ‘I gather that the man who taught you has also taught you something about meditation.’

      ‘Which again comes highly recommended in every book you pick up these days. It’s the panacea of the eighties.’ She frowned. ‘It’s not dangerous, Geoffrey.’

      He scowled. ‘Tell me about these visions you see.’

      ‘You mean the one with the horns and the cloven hooves and the tail with a point on the end?’

      Outside the sun was fighting its way out of the mist. A ray of sunlight crept slowly across the carpet and stopped at her feet.

      He didn’t laugh. For a long moment he watched her intently, then at last he looked away. ‘You think it all a joke?’

      ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not a joke. Not to me – but it is when you take it so seriously.’ She refused to allow herself to think about what Zak had said.

      ‘I take it seriously because it’s a serious matter, Clare.’

      ‘You’re talking about the witchcraft now, of course.’ She looked at him solemnly. ‘I didn’t think I’d told Emma about that. There are a lot of covens in East Anglia – but there are waiting lists. One would be lucky to get into one.’ She walked over the window and stared out, so he couldn’t see her face. ‘I’m getting very good at it.’

      Behind her Geoffrey swallowed. ‘Clare –’

      ‘It was frightening at first, of course – especially the first time I raised the devil. It’s hard to remember the ceremonies; the incantations – but when it works …’ She turned to face him. ‘Don’t you believe me? You should ask Sarah. She’ll tell you. She caught me at it last night. She was almost terrified to death.’

      ‘Clare –’

      ‘The Church of England is boring, Geoffrey.’ She was speaking very fast. ‘It hasn’t reassured me, or comforted me. It leaves me cold. I’m sorry. But it’s true. And if it’s concerned about my soul I’m grateful – but I don’t need its concern. I’d rather go on my own way.’

      ‘Will you tell me what you do?’

      ‘The ceremonies are secret. You know better than to ask that.’ She was swinging from humour to seriousness so quickly he was not sure which was which.

      ‘Then tell me what happens. Do these people appear to you as apparitions?’

      ‘They appear as people; in my head. They are daydreams. Imaginary. Nothing to do with you.’

      ‘But