“Stonehenge,” chimes in Demeter alertly, in her I’m-so-clever University Challenge way.
“Exactly.” I nod. “Stonehenge being the most famous. Now, here at Ansters Farm, we’re lucky enough to have an ancient Druid circle. You can’t see it anymore, but it’s there, and it makes the perfect place for us to practice our Vedari.”
We’re walking through Elm Field now, and a few cows come wandering toward us. They’re tan Jerseys, and they’re sweet-natured but very curious. I can see Demeter stiffening as they get near. Is she scared?
“Do you have any experience of cows?” I ask politely. I’m remembering Demeter in that meeting at work, lecturing us all on the countryside.
“Not exactly,” Demeter says after a pause. “They’re quite big, aren’t they? What are they doing?” she adds in a quivering voice, as a cow comes right up to her, staring with its gorgeous dark eyes. “What do they want?”
She’s actually gone pale. Oh my God. After all that guff she said in the office, she’s frightened of the cows too! Just like Flora!
“Don’t worry,” I say kindly. “Just keep walking. That’s it….”
We both clamber over a stile, and I lead Demeter into the middle of the six-acre field. It’s a totally nondescript field. It’s often used for grazing cattle, so there’s dried-up cow poo everywhere, and it’s got a tiny copse of oak trees. Other than that, it’s nothing special. The view isn’t even that good.
But as I turn to Demeter, I adopt an expression of reverence.
“This is the Sacred Field,” I say. “The Druids lived and worshipped here, and there are powerful ley lines under the ground. If you concentrate, you can still feel them. You have to be spiritually open, though. Not all our guests can pick up the vibrations.”
I’m pressing Demeter’s buttons again. No way is she going to fail at anything, including picking up Druid vibrations.
She closes her eyes, and sure enough after about three seconds she opens them again and says, “There is a special aura here, isn’t there?”
“You can feel it.” I smile. “Excellent. You’re going to be a natural. Now, you need to get changed into your Vedari gown. You can go into the little wood.”
I reach into my Ansters Farm jute bag and pull out a sack. I customized it with a neckhole and armholes last night. It’s the scratchiest, ugliest garment in the world, but as I hold it out to Demeter, I manage to stay straight-faced.
“I won’t be wearing the gown,” I say, “because I’m the ceremony leader. The disciples wear the gowns.”
I can see Demeter’s face falter as she takes the sack, and for an awful moment I think she’s going to challenge me.
“I think Gwyneth Paltrow might sell them on her website,” I add casually. “If you’re interested in taking Vedari further.”
“Right.” Demeter’s eyes open wide. “Wow. It’s very…authentic, isn’t it?” She strokes the scratchy hessian.
“You can find cheap knockoffs,” I say seriously. “But this is the real deal. If you’re buying a Vedari gown, it must come from the West Country. Now, let’s head over to the wood.” I nod at the copse. “The first part of the ceremony is called Beauty. That’s followed by Truth. And finally Contemplation.” I hand her another Ansters Farm jute bag. “You can put your clothes in here. Take off your shoes too.”
I want to burst into giggles as Demeter disappears behind a tree. It’s amazing how an otherwise intelligent person can become a credulous fool as soon as you mention the words “organic,” “authentic,” and “Gwyneth Paltrow.”
But I don’t giggle. I remain in character, gathering mud and twigs from the ground and putting them into a wooden bowl. As Demeter emerges, looking very awkward in the sack, I clamp my lips shut, desperate not to explode.
“Perfect,” I manage at last. “Now, as I said, we begin with Beauty. The mud in this wood has a special nourishing quality for the skin. The Druids knew that, and so every ceremony began with applying the mud to the face.”
“Mud?” Demeter looks at the bowl, and I can see the dismay in her eyes. “That mud?”
“Think of it as a Druid facial. It’s totally natural and organic, with ancient nutrients.” I rub the mud between my palms. “Look at that. Beautiful.”
It’s not beautiful. It’s crappy, smelly mud that I’m sure has a few cowpats mixed into it.
“Right.” Demeter is still eyeing the mud warily. “Right. So…does Gwyneth Paltrow do this too?”
“I’m sure she does,” I say with a serene smile. “And have you seen her complexion? Close your eyes.”
I almost think Demeter’s going to refuse. But then she closes her eyes, and I start applying mud to her cheeks.
“There!” I say brightly. “Can you feel the natural warming qualities of the mud?” I scoop up more mud and smear it all over her face. I smear it in her hair too and rub it in. “It acts as a hair mask too,” I add. “It stimulates growth and prevents hair from turning gray.”
God, this feels good. I start slapping Demeter’s head as I apply mud to her hair, and that feels ever better. Slap-slap-slap. That pays her back for making me do her bloody roots.
“Ow!” says Demeter.
“Just improving your circulation,” I say briskly. “And now, the bark exfoliant.”
“What?”
Before she can say anything else, I start rubbing twigs across her face.
“Inhale,” I instruct her. “Long, deep breaths. Then you’ll gain the benefit from the natural bark aromas.”
“Ow!” says Demeter again.
“This is doing wonders for your skin,” I say. “Now another mud mask…this will really penetrate….” I slap on another layer of mud, then take a step back and survey Demeter.
She looks a sight. The sack is sitting lopsided on her shoulders. Her hair is all matted. Her face is smeared thickly with mud, and as I watch, a small clod falls off.
Another laugh is building inside me, but I can’t let it out. I mustn’t.
“Very good.” I somehow manage to stay straight-faced. “Now onto the first active part of the ceremony. We call it Truth.”
Demeter gingerly touches her face and flinches. “Have you got some water?” she asks. “Can I wash this off?”
“Oh no!” I say, as though in great surprise. “You leave the mud on, then you get the full benefit. Come on.”
I lead her out of the copse, into the field. I can see Demeter trying to dodge cowpats in her bare feet, and another giggle rises. Oh God. Don’t laugh.
“So.” I come to a halt. “Stand opposite me. Let us be still for a moment.” I put my hands in a yoga-type prayer pose, and Demeter does the same. “Now, bend over so your hands are touching the ground.”
Promptly, Demeter bends to the ground. She’s pretty flexible, actually.
“Very good. Now, raise your right hand to the sky. This pose is Meaning.”
Demeter immediately lifts her hand high in the sky. God, she’s a try-hard. I know she’s hoping I’ll say, Wow, you’re better than Gwyneth Paltrow, or something.
“Excellent. Now lift your opposite leg to the sky. This pose is Knowledge.”
Demeter’s leg rises, a bit more shakily.
“Now lift your other leg too,” I say. “This pose is Truth.”
“What?” Demeter raises her head. “How can I lift my other leg too?”
“It’s the Truth pose,” I say with an implacable smile. “It strengthens the limbs and the mind.”
“But it’s impossible! No one could do that.”
“It’s an advanced pose,” I say with a shrug.
“Show me!”
“I’m not wearing a Vedari gown,” I say regretfully. “So I’m afraid I can’t. But don’t worry; you’re a beginner. So don’t push yourself. We won’t try the Truth pose today.”
This is like a red rag to a bull, just like I knew it would be.
“I’m sure I can do it,” says Demeter. “I’m sure I can.”
She tries to launch her other leg into the air and falls down, into a cowpat.
“Shit.” She sounds totally hassled. “OK, I’m just not doing this right.” She tries again and falls once more, into a different cowpat.
“Watch out for the cow manure,” I say politely.