2018
Late morning. Quinn sits on a yoga mat at the centre of the yurt’s wooden floor. Six other mats surround her in a circle. On them, cross-legged, sit Mel, Joe, Holly, Zoe, Carl and Sofia. Dmitri sits on a wooden chair by the yurt’s door, surveying them with an amused expression.
Sunlight filters through the canvas roof. The dense scent of sandalwood incense fills the air, masking the yurt’s mustiness. An electric fan at the far end of the circular space whirs merrily from side to side, attempting to cool them.
Quinn springs to her feet. ‘Let’s come to standing at the top of our mats.’ The others get up, accompanied by sighs and the snap and crack of stiff joints. She leads them through two sets of sun salutations then instructs them to do three more at their own pace. As they do so, she wanders amongst them, adjusting their postures, whispering advice. Her year as a yogi’s assistant at an ashram in Kerala taught her most of what she knows. The rest she learned from books. She is a great believer in self-taught knowledge.
Sofia’s inverted body is clad in matching white yoga pants and a crop vest. Designer no doubt. Before they started the class, Sofia was raving about her private yoga instructor back in London, but, as Quinn appraises her downward dog, she thinks the expensive lessons might be a rip-off. She is about to pull Sofia’s hips up and back when she spots Dmitri glaring at her and decides against it.
‘Move in time with your own breath,’ she tells Zoe, who is on the mat beside Sofia’s and clearly trying to keep up with the younger woman. ‘Go at your own speed.’
Carl is moving with more vigour and focus than Quinn has seen for a long time. Even Joe is making an effort to stretch his stiff knees, and Holly’s arms are flowing with an uncharacteristic grace. Mel’s asanas are strong and controlled. Sofia’s presence has given them all a new purpose and energy.
She returns to the centre of the circle, but her eyes travel back to Sofia. She thinks of Eva, here in this yurt, practising yoga with her at dawn. Quinn was sure their rigorous practice was bringing peace and balance to Eva’s troubled mind.
After the sun salutations are complete, Quinn leads the group through a standing sequence. Triangle, side-angle, half-moon. ‘Now into warrior two,’ she says.
Soon the others are facing her, front knee bent, their front arm pointing towards her, hands outstretched. Their warrior energy flows in her direction. Their fierce warrior expressions make her feel suddenly hemmed in. She sees Sofia’s knowing smile and thinks of the grinning skeleton on the Tarot card.
‘Let’s come down onto our mats,’ she says. She is about to instruct them to lie down in Shavasana, corpse posture, but the words stick in her throat. Why not try something else for a change? They finish the session cross-legged with their hands in prayer position.
‘Namaste,’ Quinn says, and they echo the word back to her. ‘Now, I know how much we all appreciate a sound bath, so I’ve brought my singing bowls and I thought—’
‘Let’s do trust games,’ Sofia says.
‘Trust games?’ says Quinn.
‘You know what I mean.’ Sofia beams at her. ‘We used to do them all the time.’
‘Yes, you loved that sort of thing,’ Holly says.
‘Let’s do the one where everyone catches you.’ Sofia rushes to the back of the yurt, behind the wood-burning stove, to the area where they keep various bits of equipment. ‘Wow.’ She drags out a small wooden chest. ‘I can’t believe this is still here.’ She flings open the chest and, after a quick search, pulls out a black silk blindfold. The kind they sometimes wear when dancing to help them shed all inhibition.
‘I’ll go first,’ Sofia says. She fetches one of the wooden chairs stacked behind the chest and drags it into the centre of the yurt. Quinn snatches up her yoga mat and steps aside.
‘Slow down,’ Carl says. ‘Let us get into position.’
Dmitri springs to his feet and calls out what is clearly a warning in Russian, but Sofia ignores him and climbs onto the chair.
‘Everyone in a circle, arms crossed,’ bellows Joe.
Sofia wraps the blindfold around her eyes and knots it at the back of her head.
‘Grip each other’s hands,’ Holly says.
Sofia flings up her arms and lets out a reckless whoop.
‘Wait,’ Zoe says, ‘we’re not ready.’
Ignoring the warning, Sofia launches herself backwards from the chair. Quinn winces as Joe’s strong hands drag her and the rest of the circle over to the left, just in time to catch Sofia.
‘See?’ Sofia applauds them. ‘I knew you’d catch me.’
‘Lower her to the ground,’ Quinn says. ‘Slowly.’
Together they bring Sofia safely to the floor.
‘See, Dmitri,’ Sofia says, still blindfolded. ‘These people have my back.’ She giggles. ‘Literally.’
Dmitri, a look of relief on his face, returns to his chair.
Quinn places her hands lightly on the crown of Sofia’s head. ‘Let’s finish by giving you healing energy. Pure Heart energy.’ The others nod. Each person places their hands on a different part of Sofia’s body. Mel, left with Sofia’s feet, touches them gingerly.
Sofia sighs. ‘Nice.’
They sit in silence. Quinn closes her eyes and visualises a shimmering violet light passing from her hands into Sofia. She is sure the girl must be able to feel their love for her.
After a couple of minutes, Sofia rips off her blindfold. ‘Who’s next?’
Zoe goes first, throwing herself into the air with even more abandon than Sofia. Joe goes next and, although his bulk is a challenge, the net doesn’t break and they lower him to the floor gently. Then comes Carl, who crosses his arms over his chest before he falls.
‘Don’t bloody drop me,’ Holly says before she lets her body drop, plank-stiff into their waiting arms.
Mel has a focused expression on her face throughout. Quinn can imagine her taking part in police drills, working as part of a team. Taking each exercise seriously. When it’s time for Mel to climb up on the chair, her focused expression turns dubious.
‘I’m not wearing that,’ she says when Holly tries to hand her the blindfold.
‘It’s part of it,’ Zoe says.
‘Didn’t you do trust games in the Met?’ Carl asks.
‘Funnily enough, no.’ Mel gives Quinn a worried look. Quinn wonders if being blindfolded reminds Mel of some difficult moment in the past. One she’d rather forget.
‘It’s okay.’ Sofia places a reassuring hand on Mel’s shoulder. ‘Just close your eyes. That will be enough.’
Mel gives her a grateful smile before stepping up onto the chair. When the time comes for her to fall, she does so silently. When the community catches her, a joyous smile spreads across her face. ‘Thanks everyone,’ she says. ‘That means a lot to me.’
As soon as Mel is on her feet, all eyes turn to Quinn.
‘Your go,’ Sofia says to her.
‘Yes,’ Dmitri says from his sentry post. ‘Your turn, Quinn.’
‘Of course,’ she says. Any opportunity to experience the complete trust they all have in one another. She is surprised to find her legs trembling as she steps onto the chair. Her fingers fumble as she ties the blindfold.
‘Ready when you are,’ Sofia says.
Quinn hesitates. She imagines the group silently edging away, leaving only hard wooden floorboards to break her fall.
‘We’re here,’ Mel says. ‘We’ve got you.’
Mel’s calm voice reassures her. She arches her back and lets herself drop, a gasp trapped in her throat. A moment of freefall and then… into the arms of her beloved community who lower her to the floor with what feels like reverence.
Hands cover her body from head to toe.
‘Your turn for some healing energy,’ Joe says.
‘Your heart’s beating like crazy,’ Sofia says, and Quinn realises the hands on her chest are Sofia’s. ‘Let’s all send our love and energy there. Help calm her down.’
The pressure on Quinn’s chest increases as everyone moves their hands there. She feels like she has a tight band of metal around her ribcage.
A voice begins to chant. Zoe. A repetitive Buddhist healing mantra Quinn taught her years ago. The others join in, low and dissonant.
The noise builds, as does the pressure in Quinn’s chest. She tries not to focus on it. She should concentrate on receiving all this beautiful love into her body. She must release her fear and negativity.
Shallow breaths are all she can take. Panic builds inside her. Her body wants to struggle, but she holds herself still.
‘And release,’ comes a voice somewhere above her. Holly? Mel? She is too disorientated to tell.
Air rushes into her lungs as the hands lift from her chest. She remains still, composing herself, waiting for a moment to pass before she slowly removes her blindfold.
The first thing she sees is Eva looking down at her, an ambiguous smile on her face. No. Not Eva. Of course not. It’s Sofia.
Quinn sits up and the others scuttle back to their yoga mats.
‘Amazing,’ she says. ‘That was… that was very powerful.’
They bow their heads in unison.
‘Namaste,’ they say.