‘Hi, welcome to Bryn Helyg,’ she said, shrugging off her coat. ‘I’m Maggi – with an i, not a y.’
Wondering if there was some sort of theme going on with the i’s and y’s, Cristy smiled as much at the woman as the melodic Welsh accent.
‘Maggi more or less runs this place,’ Meier informed them. ‘Without her, we’d all be lost. Come and join us,ma chère;I know you’re keen to meet our new friends.’
‘Right with you.’ Maggi smiled and went to pour herself a coffee.
Cristy clocked how feminine she appeared, in spite of the baggy overalls and man’s plaid shirt. As she turned back to Meier, he said dryly, ‘Am I allowed to ask what conclusions you drew from your last visit here?’
Cristy glanced at Connor.
‘None in particular,’ Connor replied. ‘Only … actually, we saw something that kind of … alarmed us.’
Meier nodded his understanding. ‘Arabella really is – was – as gentle as a lamb,’ he assured them, ‘but of course you weren’t to know that.’
As Connor blanked, Cristy realized he had no idea of the cow’s name. ‘Actually, it wasn’t the cow that we thought was a bull,’ she said, glancing at Maggi as she sat down the other side of Connor. ‘It was someone we saw coming in here just before we left. Unless we were mistaken they seemed to be wearing long white robes and a conical sort of masked hat that—’
‘Ah, our friend Ray Johnson from Alabama,’ Meier interrupted, appearing both amused and concerned. How did he do that?‘He’s working through a few issues with Simeon, one of our therapists. Given the nature of his discrimination, we decided, with his wife, that they should come while no one else was around – apart from ourselves, of course.’
‘It’s still early days for Ray,’ Maggi told them, ‘but Simeon is quite gifted when it comes to turning hatred into toleranceand prejudice into understanding and acceptance. So Ray is here working on himself with Simeon’s help and wearing those robes is a kind of purge, at least in Ray’s mind.’
Meier’s eyes were on Maggi, and as she met them with her own, he smiled.
Cristy wasn’t sure if they’d just witnessed an intimate moment (and who wouldn’t want to be intimate with this man given howphysicalhe was? Interesting, and a little disconcerting that he seemed to be having an effect on her already, or was it just her own chaotic state of mind mixing up signals?). She said, ‘It sounds as though you have quite a lot of …’ What was she trying to say? ‘Quite a lot going on here. Would you mind if we record while you tell us about the place?’
‘Please go ahead,’ Meier invited, picking up his coffee and scooting his chair back a way to sit more comfortably.
As Connor began setting up, Cristy decided to ask her first question before the mic was on. ‘We’ve received quite a lot of feedback since mentioning your name in our podcast and on our website. Will you tell us honestly if you were behind it?’
He laughed and put down his mug. ‘Démasqué!’he declared, clearly not minding in the least that he’d been rumbled. ‘However, I need to tell you that everything we sent to you has come from our guests’ messages to us. We made nothing up, but of course in most cases, we changed the names, or perhaps we didn’t give them at all?’ He looked to Maggi for confirmation, which she gave.
‘Even the negative comments?’ Cristy asked.
Meier grimaced. ‘I have not seen everything you have received, obviously; maybe some of those did not come from us. Like everyone, we also are subject to bad reviews and disappointment. People come here expecting a lot, and we do our best to help, but sometimes, it is not possible.’
‘They can go away angry and frustrated,’ Maggi continued, ‘and they find it easier to blame us rather than themselvesfor how they have been unable to fully open up and let go. It’s important to give yourself completely to the process of healing, or it’s possible you’ll go away even more mixed up and afraid than when you arrived.’
‘Contrary to what some people think,’ Meier said, ‘we cannot perform miracles.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Even at weddings.’
Maggi laughed. ‘No water into wine at our ceremonies.’
Meier’s mesmeric eyes moved between Cristy and Connor as he said, ‘Shall I tell you what really happened at Cana? I think you will be interested to know that there is a big misunderstanding of John’s words in his gospel. When it’s said the water was turned into wine, it’s important to understand that at that time, only celibates – priests – were allowed to drink the communion wine. But at this particular wedding, Jesus told the “non-celibates”, the people, to take their fill. So instead of water, they indulged in wine. No miraculous transformation – only the breaking of a tradition.’ He smiled and circled a hand as though encouraging them to continue with the recording.
Having no idea what to say right now, Cristy turned to Connor, only to see that he was equally at a loss.
Apparently reading their confusion, Meier said, ‘Which do you prefer? The unbelievable – i.e. the miracle – or the much less romantic, shall we say mundane, version that is more likely to be true?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Most choose to believe in miracles, even though there is always an explanation for what might appear to be impossible.’
‘So you don’t believe in the Bible?’ Cristy asked, hardly able to believe she was saying it.
His eyes widened a little, as though intrigued by the question, but then he said, ‘Maybe that is a discussion for another time. It would certainly be a fascinating one, at least from my perspective, but I sense there are more pressing matters now. You are here to find out who I am, what weare doing here on our farm, who lives and works amongst us, how we choose our guests and what we do to help them. Most importantly though, you would like to know how I fit into Nicole’s story, and whether the children were stolen or murdered.’
Cristy turned to Connor again. Where to start when her brain had suddenly emptied itself of just about everything?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CONNOR: ‘Perhaps you could begin by introducing yourselves … If nothing else, I can get sound levels …’
Cristy turned to Meier, glad to have a few moments to assess him without seeming to stare or appear inappropriately interested in him as a man. She wasn’t, of course; it just wasn’t easy to get past his looks – or theforceof him: gentle, yet compelling, a very real phenomenon as fascinating as it was distracting. No wonder people were so drawn to him, maybe even lost their minds to him. She was even starting to feel slightly adrift herself.
