Chapter 18: Reunion

Monday, 16 June 1969

They had scarcely spoken offstage since Thursday night. Judith wasn’t avoiding him and kissed him warmly when she saw him, but each time he suggested they get together, she gave him a gentle shove and suggested that “Rebecca needed him.” He couldn’t figure it out. Judith had been ... well, a little jealous of his relationship with Rebecca, but now she was pushing him toward her. It didn’t make sense.

Rebecca rejoined the cast for their last performance at Ambleside on Sunday night, which proved to be their largest audience since coming to England. There were over fifty in the audience. She was still tender and didn’t move as freely as she had before, but she was back onstage and part of the cast. Jim reluctantly cut the knife-throwing bit at Judith’s insistence.

“Can we spend some time together tomorrow?” Wayne asked as he caught Judith in the dressing room.

“Of course, love,” she answered. She kissed him and for a few moments let the kiss deepen into something Wayne remembered of their connection. Then she pushed away.

“We’re going to Blackpool tomorrow. Isn’t it exciting? I know how you love the Beatles.”

“I seem to remember something about how you love the Beatles,” Wayne whispered, then sang, “Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.” Judith silenced him with another passionate kiss. “Wait. The Beatles are from Liverpool.”

“That’s just south of Blackpool. They played there a lot. It’s a big entertainment center. Don’t you know that John Lennon’s father attempted to kidnap him and immigrate to New Zealand from Blackpool when he was just five years old? Imagine. No Beatles!” Wayne looked at her askance. “It’s true. I’ll show you the very spot,” Judith continued. “Tonight, you’d better check on your patient and be sure she hasn’t overdone it in the performance. I got you this jar of cream. It’s called arnica and has been used here in the country for centuries. I’m told it removes bruising. You should put it on her shoulders.”

“Judith...”

“I promise I will be all yours tomorrow, darling,” she said as she left with Gail to head to their hotel.

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?” Rebecca asked when she opened the door to Wayne’s knock. He stood there looking confused. “Do come in, Wayne. You’ve sat by my bed faithfully for three nights. I don’t suppose I can stop you tonight. I thought you would be out with Judith tonight, though. I’m definitely on the mend now.”

“I ... I don’t understand it. I have some ointment she gave me for you. She said I should rub it on your shoulders to lessen the bruising. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Dear sister,” Rebecca whispered. “What is going on?”

“Why do you call Judith ‘sister?’ I’ve heard you say it before.”

“Oh. We discovered we are members of the same ... society.”

“You mean like a sorority?”

“Yes. Very similar. In some ways.”

Wayne stood there awkwardly holding the bottle in his hand. Why is Judith doing this? Rebecca wondered. Still, the thought of something relieving the bruising on her shoulders was enticing. She’s overcompensating for our disagreement.

“Well since she was so kind as to send this remedy, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity,” Rebecca said. “To relieve the bruising,” she added hurriedly.

“I guess I’m supposed to put it on your shoulders. I could call Joyce. I’m sure she’d do it.”

“I’m sure she would, but it’s late. Let’s not disturb anyone else. Just touch gently. It’s still pretty sore.” Rebecca lay on her stomach and pulled her robe down off her shoulders. She still had her nightgown on. No harm done.

“Um ... I think it has to go on the bruises. I can’t even see them. I’ll just ask Joyce in the morning,” Wayne stumbled.

“Oh. I guess they are somewhat covered up,” laughed Rebecca. “The bruises.” She looked hard at Wayne. The boy had an expression of such confusion and longing that Rebecca was lost. “Turn around.” He obeyed. Rebecca removed her robe and nightgown and then pulled the robe back on. She shuddered at the thought of what she’d just done. With Wayne’s back turned, she’d stripped to her panties and then hurriedly pulled her robe on. She lay back down on the bed and called to him. “You should be able to reach them now.”

Wayne turned to her and she shifted her weight to pull the robe down away from her shoulders and upper arms. She kept it bunched up around her breasts as she lay on her stomach, arms clamped to her sides.

“Okay. It says to just apply liberally to the bruised area and rub in gently.”

“The key word there is ‘gently.’ I’m still very sore,” Rebecca replied. She heard him remove the lid from the jar and braced herself for the cold ointment. Instead, she heard Wayne rubbing his hands together.

“This stuff’s cold. Let me warm it up a minute,” he said. What a sweet boy.

When Wayne considered the cream to be warm enough, he gently drew his hands across Rebecca’s shoulders. She shivered at his touch.

“Still too cold?” he asked, pulling back.

“No. No, it’s fine. I just ... I haven’t been touched like that in a long time. Go ahead, doctor.” Wayne inhaled deeply and began to gently rub the emollient into her shoulders. Rebecca sighed. Wayne started to pull away when he’d covered the area he could see. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered. She pulled with her fingers and the robe came down to her mid-back. He can’t really see anything.

“God, Rebecca! How far down does this go? You’re bruised all the way to the middle of your back.”

“As long as you see a bruise, just keep pushing it down. I trust you.”

“Perfect love and perfect trust,” Wayne whispered uncertainly. Rebecca relaxed. She let go of the robe.

“It looks like the bar bounced off your shoulders and hit you two or three more times on the way down. I’m so sorry, Rebecca. It was all because of my stupidity.”

“Shh. Just put the cream on. It does make it feel better.” He rubbed the lotion in softly and she just wanted to purr. It felt so good. He started to pull his hands away. “There’s one more, dear,” she said. She hadn’t intended to tell him about the last bruise, but, ‘in for a pence, in for a pound,’ she thought.

“Um ... really?”

“Yes really. Do you think I’m Mrs. Robinson? I’m not trying to seduce you.” I don’t think I am, anyway. Oh goddess, his hands feel so good.

Wayne pushed the robe down farther and she straightened her arms to pull her hands out of the sleeves. She heard him gasp. She quickly pulled her arms back alongside her breasts.

“What is it?”

“I just ... God, Rebecca. It’s like someone beat you across your ... um ... I know you’re not trying to seduce me ... but ... um...”

She felt his hands caress the soft globes of her buttocks. She couldn’t help herself. She moaned. She knew the stripe was across the top of her butt, but when his hands pushed farther down to cup her cheeks she didn’t complain. If anything, she moaned a little and pushed back against his hands.

He withdrew his hands and pulled her robe up to cover her back.

“I ... um ... think ... I got it ... all. I’ll leave the jar here in case you need some more. Goodnight!” He fled from the room. Rebecca lay on her bed panting.

“Oh goddess! What have I done?” she whispered. It was not, however, what she had done, but what she was about to do that scared her. Her hand slipped beneath her and her fingers sought the warm, wet folds of her sex.

Monday was a good if frustrating day. Judith spent the day cuddled next to him in the seat of the overcrowded bus, volunteering to ride on his lap so another actor could have her seat. She kept burying her face in his neck, covering it with kisses. Then she would tell him about what he was seeing in the countryside. He never tried to see beyond what was sitting in his lap. They walked around Blackpool, toured the castle, and rode the nearly fifty-year-old roller coaster at Pleasure Beach called The Big Dipper. They also rode the wooden-track Wild Mouse and Wayne was feeling peaked when he got off.

Judith stood on a pier and declared that this was where John Lennon was made to choose between his mother and his father at age five. It had now been four years since the Beatles last played a concert at Pleasure Beach.

“I’ve got to tell Glenn this,” Wayne said. “He knows so much. It will be nice to have something on him. Let me see. If he was five years old, that would have been in...”

“1946,” Judith said.

“Hey, Glenn! Did you know that John Lennon was nearly kidnapped on this very spot?” Wayne asked his friend.

“Yeah. By his dad. His mom found out and came to get him. It’s sad, really. He didn’t see his dad again until like three years ago. There was a big write-up about it in Billboard.”

“Shit,” Wayne said.

It was dark when the bus headed back for Keswick and Wayne managed to position himself so Judith on his lap was between him and the window. Their seat-mate was turned toward the aisle and Wayne began some serious make-out time. Judith melted against him and encouraged his hand when it slid up under her shirt against her skin.

“I miss you baby,” he whispered. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight.”

“I can’t. Haven’t you noticed them checking rooms? If we aren’t in by curfew, we’re toast.”

“I didn’t know,” Wayne said.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing now. Jesus, Wayne, you make me feel so good.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Jim’s got us scheduled for another bus tour tomorrow. I don’t even know where he’s taking us.”

“Shit. Kendall. We’re supposed to see some production of The World of Carl Sandburg that he’s thinking of doing next year.”

“Who is Carl Sandburg?”

“An American poet. He’s all about folk songs and pig slaughtering. Urban industrial art against a rural American backdrop.”

“You are the only poet I need,” she whimpered as he strummed her nipples with his thumb.

“What is she doing?” Wayne whispered to Judith. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. They were in a huge open field surrounded by monolithic stones.

The show in Kendall had been good. After busting all budgets to get the cast to England, Jim was going to need a low budget show to open in the fall and with just four actors sitting on stools, you couldn’t get much lower budget than The World of Carl Sandburg. And it was timely. Everybody wanted to sit around singing folk songs and protest songs. If they added a little Bob Dylan into the mix it would be a great show.

But instead of returning directly to Keswick, the bus had taken a short detour to visit this stone circle. Wayne had been almost asleep after they stopped for half an hour to let sheep finish crossing the road in front of them. He never did figure out how many there were. Then he’d stepped off the bus and followed the cast across a low fence—what was that poem about a crooked stile?—and into a scene from one of his dreams. Stones surrounded him. Judith led him between two and made a long circuit with him around the circle. When they were approaching the two tall stones again, he saw Rebecca moving from stone to stone, touching it as if it were an old friend.

“She’s saying hello and calling each one by name. The one on the left at the northern gate is Enceladus. The one on the right is Asia.”

“These should mean something to me,” Wayne whispered. He shook his head. If it would only come clear. Judith was pulling him to the edge of the circle away from the rest of their group. Steve, Chuck, and Phil were leaning against a stone opposite them looking like a scene from the crucifixion with their hands held out and other cast members taking their pictures.

“Look at me, lover.” Wayne fixed his gaze on Judith. She reached out and touched the pentacles that hung from his neck.

“Swordmaster,” he whispered.

“Yes, Unbound. This is the circle where we meet. The clowns don’t have any idea that they are leaning against one of the Titans.”

“Scarce images of life, one here, one there...”

“Yes. And she is greeting each of them.”

“Reb...”

“Shh. You know who she is.” Wayne thought a moment and it came to him.

“The Hart.”

“Yes. The Huntress of Carles Castlerigg. This is her circle as well.”

“Why is it all so foggy? I can hardly even see the other side of the circle.” Wayne said, looking around.

“Foggy?”

The word seemed to echo in Wayne’s mind. The fog was disappearing. He’d stepped through a barrier and could see the people clearly. Mari, The Vagabond, the celebrants. He was thankful to no longer be sharing the body of The Vagabond. This time he could simply watch and see how the scene would play out. Vaguely he could see shadows around them and he recognized them as cast members from the play. But they weren’t real where he was. Where he was there was only The High Priestess Mari, The Vagabond, The Swordmaster, and The Hart.

“Unbound?” There was a note of panic in the voice of The Swordmaster. “You mustn’t. Not now. Not with everyone around.” The Hart looked at him from across the circle, alarm in her eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to be here now. He felt The Swordmaster pull him toward her, felt the point of her Athamé at his chest, and he suddenly snapped back into the present.

“Let’s go everyone!” Jim called. “John and Joyce are putting together a feast for the entire cast tonight. Let’s honor our hosts with the best we can give them!” Everyone headed for the bus again. At the edge of the circle, Wayne turned and looked back. A crowd of naked witches turned toward him, calling him back to their circle. He felt a pull on his arm and a few moments later he was on the bus.

“You saw it,” Judith whispered. “What is he?”

She had cornered Rebecca outside the dining room after dinner. The cast was pleased that for once they had not had lamb sandwiches. Judith declined to tell them that the meatloaf was at least half mutton. Wait till they had a Wimpy. But it was the first moment that she’d been able to get to Rebecca when Wayne went into the lounge to have a Baby Cham and sing more folk songs with other members of the cast. Glenn had located a guitar. When Judith saw Rebecca leave the room, she excused herself to use the loo.

“Goddess, Swordmaster. He’s a Vagabond. Can’t you see it? He took us across a time dimension without even having a ritual. We were there. I saw Iäpetus in the hands of the High Priestess. You saw it, too.”

“I’ve believed in our ancient ways all my life, Huntress, but I’ve never seen power manifest itself like this. I don’t know what to do. You have to help him.”

“It may take both of us.”

“I feel ... something is wrong. I’ve been weakened,” Judith said. “But whatever you want, you may have. If it is to be our own Unbound, please ... love him ... like I love him.” Tears were pouring from Judith’s eyes as she left Rebecca in more wonder of what had just occurred than of what happened in the stone circle.

Wednesday morning Wayne awoke to rapping on his door. Oh. I must have overslept. What the hell? He struggled out of bed and went to the door. Rebecca stood there. Wayne was suddenly conscious of the fact he was standing at the door in a t-shirt and briefs.

“Um ... Hi. Am I late?”

“Kind of overdid it last night, didn’t you?” Rebecca asked. Now Wayne remembered.

They’d sat in the lounge singing and drinking Baby Cham. It was good, but a little pricey, so Wayne switched to beer as he and Glenn teamed up to sing “Walk Right Back” in a pretty good rendition of the Everly Brothers. Judith and Gail were attempting to leave for the night and eventually extracted themselves to head back to the Skiddaw. They sang a couple more numbers in the lounge until there were only Glenn, Wayne, and Chuck left with John, the innkeeper.

“Now lads, you’ve a treat coming,” John said. “How about a little whisky?”

“A shot on the rocks would be a nice nightcap,” Glenn said.

“Rocks?”

“He means with ice,” Chuck laughed.

“Why would you want a lump of water in your scotch?”

“I think he’s Irish,” Wayne laughed.

“Irish? That’s a Scotsman with his brain removed. This is a Macallan ten. Just standard bar whiskey here.” John set up four short glasses and poured a generous shot. Glenn reached to throw the shot back and John placed a strong hand on his arm. “You sip it, lad.” The three boys raised the glasses in salute to John and sipped the strong liquor.