Clive Bamford stopped inside the doorway and peered around. His glasses had steamed up as he’d entered the cafe and for a moment he could see nothing at all. Then he realised someone was waving to him from the far corner of the room.
The place was busy, and he had to push his way between the tables to where she was sitting. ‘Rowan. Good to see you again.’ She looked even more attractive than he remembered, her long bright-red hair set against her black leather jacket. He lowered himself into the seat opposite her, trying to look more relaxed than he was feeling. ‘Not been in here before. Good suggestion of yours.’
‘I sometimes come in for a coffee first thing,’ she said. ‘They’re happy to let me sit and read, but it gets a bit busy at this time. They do decent food, as well.’ She gestured towards the espresso in front of her. ‘And excellent coffee.’ There was a book spreadeagled on the table next to the coffee cup. A paperback with a pentagram on the front cover, and the title Another Path to Enlightenment.
‘I might get a sandwich.’ Clive picked up the menu, mainly as an alternative to staring at Rowan Wiseman. He hadn’t previously registered the extraordinary emerald green of her eyes. ‘Are you having something?’
‘They do a hummus thing that’s very good. I’m a vegan,’ she added, as if some justification was required for her choice. ‘This is one of the few places round here that does a decent vegan selection.’
‘Sounds good,’ he said. He’d been considering a salt beef sandwich, but that suddenly seemed inappropriate. ‘I’ll give it a try.’
He was about to ask about the paperback, but was interrupted by the waitress coming to take their order. He’d been intending to order a cappuccino with the hummus wrap but again found himself echoing her order of a large espresso. ‘Anyway,’ he said, once the waitress had departed, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘It might be more a question of what I can do for you.’
There was no edge of innuendo in her voice, but he realised he was blushing anyway. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I told you that Charlie and I are both big fans of your work?’
Her words did nothing to lessen his embarrassment. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’m just a beginner, really.’
‘No, you’re very good. We read an awful lot of stuff about the subjects you cover, and you’re really one of the best.’
‘I don’t know—’
‘No, seriously. I mean, you’re very knowledgeable and you do your research. Your interest in the material shines through, but you’re objective and balanced in the way you write about it.’
He was saved further embarrassment by the waitress arriving with their coffee. He took an immediate sip of the coffee to buy himself some time before he had to respond. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he offered finally.
‘Like I said, it’s one of the reasons we came along to the group. I was going to say something at the time, but thought it might be a bit awkward with the others there.’
Clive really wasn’t sure where this was going, although he felt content enough for it to continue. ‘I hope the meeting wasn’t a disappointment. We were all just getting to know each other, really.’
‘Things like that always need a bit of time to bed down. I’m sure you can make it work.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, Charlie and I heard on the grapevine that you were doing some work on the “left-hand path” religions. Is that right?’
Clive looked up at her, slightly startled. ‘Yes. Well, sort of. Where did you hear that?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest. Just something someone said to me when I was enthusing about one of your articles, I think.’
Clive knew he’d been phoning around fairly indiscriminately trying to find contacts prepared to assist him with his research. That was the difficulty of researching an area like this. The organisations involved tended to be highly secretive and to lack any kind of conventional management structure. It was difficult to identify the key players, so all you could do was keep throwing out feelers in the hope they’d eventually reach the right people. On reflection, he supposed it wasn’t surprising that word of his interest might have spread more widely, though It left him feeling slightly uneasy.
‘I’m looking at doing something along those lines,’ he said. ‘I thought I could maybe add something new, especially on more recent developments. But it’s not proving easy to research.’
‘I’m not surprised. That’s where we may be able to help you.’
‘Any help gratefully received. I’m just hitting dead ends.’
‘It’s an area where Charlie and I have developed our own interests,’ she said. She smiled and tapped the paperback book. ‘Part of our continuing search for spiritual enlightenment.’
For the first time, it occurred to Clive that Rowan and Charlie might be an item. He hadn’t really thought about it at the meeting, and they somehow hadn’t seemed like a couple. But there seemed to be something between them that was more intense than mere friendship.
‘I thought what they offered was the opposite of enlightenment.’ He’d intended the words as a joke. As Clive understood it, one of the characteristics of the so-called ‘left-hand path’ religions was a willingness to embrace the darker, less positive aspects of humanity in their quest for salvation. Almost at once, though, he regretted his flippancy.
She gazed at him for a moment, and he found himself struggling to meet those emerald eyes. He felt like a schoolboy caught out by the teacher in a very basic error. ‘You know better than that,’ she said. ‘It’s much more complex and nuanced.’
‘I was just playing, well, I suppose devil’s advocate might not be exactly the most appropriate phrase here. I realise that we’re not just talking about satanism.’
She laughed and he felt himself forgiven for his previous words. ‘There are certainly satanists among the left-path followers, though not all of us are satanists. And the meaning of satanism is much more subtle than most people appreciate. Most so-called satanists don’t believe in a literal Satan, but more in recognising the realities of the world we inhabit.’
Some of this sounded like part of a standard speech. Clive wondered how often she might have delivered these words, or something like them, and to what audience. ‘That’s exactly what I want to understand better. I’ve read plenty about Aleister Crowley and those historical occultist types, but I get the sense those are just the tip of the iceberg, and that there are many more recent developments.’
‘That’s very much the case. That’s what attracted Charlie and me to the field, really. There are some genuinely innovative and creative spiritual ideas emerging.’
‘It sounds fascinating.’ Clive was never really sure what the word ‘spiritual’ meant, and he suspected many of those who used the word would have struggled to define it for him. But he was quite happy to go along with whatever Rowan Wiseman might have to tell him. ‘I’d love to be able to talk to a few people, get a better understanding of what it’s all about. That would help me to focus my research more effectively. At the moment, I feel as if I’m just blundering about trying to get someone to talk to me.’
‘People tend to be wary of talking because they think their words will be misconstrued or misrepresented. People think we’re all devil-worshippers prancing about naked in covens, but of course it’s nothing like that. That’s why Charlie and I thought it would be worth talking to you. We know your work and we trust you.’
‘I should warn you, if I were to write something, it wouldn’t just be a whitewash. I don’t do PR. I try to be objective and to tell it as I see it.’ Clive had a sudden unease that he was being set up, that they might be trying to exploit what little reputation he had for their own ends. But that sounded absurd. He was a nobody. He had no reputation to exploit, other than among a tiny band of followers.
‘That’s the point,’ she said. ‘We don’t want someone to do a PR piece. All we want is for someone to understand what we do, what we’re about, and to represent it accurately. If you have doubts or reservations about what you hear, then we’d want you to express those. But equally if you see some value in our ideas, we’d hope you’d say so.’
The waitress interrupted them briefly to deliver their wraps, giving Clive a few moments to collect his thoughts. He’d finished his espresso and was wishing he’d ordered a longer drink. ‘That’s how I try to work. I aim to be as objective as possible. I think it’s important to express an opinion where appropriate, but only on the basis of the evidence.’ He was conscious he was drifting into pomposity, but Rowan seemed enthused by what he was saying.
She took a bite of her wrap. She did so very elegantly, he thought, by contrast with his own undignified struggles with the sloppy filling. She chewed for a moment before responding. ‘That’s exactly what we’re looking for. Somebody who’s prepared to listen properly to what we have to say, and to think about its meaning and its implications.’
‘There are too many so-called commentators who allow their own prejudices and preconceptions to influence their thinking.’ This was something of a hobby horse for Clive, one of the topics he and Greg Wardle debated endlessly. ‘We need to be critical, but keep an open mind. Not simply dismiss approaches or concepts because they don’t fit with our predetermined ideas.’
‘That comes across in your writing. That’s why we thought you were the right person to talk to.’ She was smiling now, and he realised he’d been actively seeking her approval, wanting her to be impressed by his intelligence and expertise. He wondered again whether she might be playing with him, but he couldn’t help feeling gratified. ‘That’s much appreciated.’
‘You’re exactly what we need.’ She smiled at him, and once more he felt the force of those emerald eyes.
‘What would be the next step?’
‘I think the next step is for us to effect some introductions for you. Arrange for you to meet some of the right people.’
‘You could do that? That would be enormously helpful.’
‘Charlie and I are just small fry, you know, so I can’t make any promises. But I think we can open a few doors. Obviously, it’ll be up to you how you handle it from there.’
‘That’s very good of you.’
She smiled at him in a manner that made him wonder once more about the nature of her relationship with Charlie. He told himself it was really none of his business. He was probably ten years her junior and well out of her league anyway, though in fairness he might have thought the same about Charlie. ‘I’d better run, actually. Got some things to do this afternoon. But really glad I was able to catch up with you, Clive. I’m sure you’re exactly the man we need.’
As far as he could recall, it was the first time she’d called him by his name. It felt as if he’d been inducted into her inner circle. ‘I hope we can make this work.’
‘I’ll be in touch in the next few days. See you soon.’
Almost instantaneously, even before he could offer a response, she was gone, striding towards the door of the cafe. Clive blinked, slightly taken aback. Her hummus wrap still sat, uneaten beyond that first bite, on the table in front of him. Her coffee looked almost untouched.
For a moment, he sat wondering quite what had just happened. After a minute or two, it occurred to him that, whatever else Rowan Wiseman might have done, she’d been smart enough to leave him with the bill.