The Programme

CHAPTER FIVE-2

“But over a period of time - and over a long journey taking in a number of countries - we began to feel a sense of something, a way to live, and where it came from I cannot tell you, any more than I can tell you where it is going. It is about being together and going where that leads us, even if sometimes it seems as if it is leading us apart. The bigger we grow, the more directions we can take; the more directions we take, the more we have to offer, the more people will be able to find within The Programme, the greater the hearth and the heart. What we’re about is warmth: that’s what we have to offer each other; the warmth of certain support for whatever direction we feel we need to take.

“So when I look around and see so many people here tonight, I feel proud, and because I don’t like feeling proud, I decide to feel humble. Actually, what I feel is an enormous warmth, a positive heat that comes from you, a fire that some may think threatens to devour but that I see as energy or fuel, the fire left behind by a space-ship taking off: watch the television shots, everyone is looking up in awe, everyone wants to be on board.

“That is what we are doing now. Of course, Boston is not the moon; it is not even Mars. For one thing, the food is a lot better.” He chuckled, encouraging them to laugh: he did not want them to leave tonight without laughter to remember. “But we’re not going to Boston. Oh, of course, many of our members are: The Seer is leading the mission and will lead the new Chapter when it opens and where The Seer goes, go we all. But Boston is just another point on the globe, it could be anywhere: The Programme is growing, touching down perhaps in Boston, but extending the parameters of its presence on earth to mirror a much larger portion of that whole, infinite being of which we are but a small part, and to become one with which is the whole of our purpose.

“I see this mission as a launch-pad into inner space. Look up from Boston Common and you will be able to see us; you need only believe that back here we, too, will be looking up to the sky and watching you in return, and we will be. Those are the images of light that I want you to take with, while we will be the light left burning in the window. You are the fire beyond, and we will be holding out our hands to your warmth.”

From laughter, he moved them to tears. He half-turned towards The Seer and held out a hand; she took it as they exchanged vows.

“I am one.”

“We are many.”

“Together we shall be whole,” they ended in unison.

“I want you to close your eyes, now,” said The Seer, still holding Matthew’s hand. “We shall descend together, as one, towards the fire beyond of which The Teacher has spoken, by its flames we shall be devoured and in its ashes we shall be spread, from its sparks we shall grow anew. I want you to close your eyes now, breathe deeply now, breathe in, let it out slowly, let it go, let it flow, watch yourself approaching the fire, you are not afraid, it can only warm you, it can only release you, it can only bring us freedom.”

After the meditation, and after they had hummed and hugged together, Matthew conducted a novel but poignant ceremony of re-admission, during which he promised each and every individual member of The Programme - Superior, Senior and Junior Messenger, Initiate, Acolyte - the opportunity to join him in a spiritual adventure, a voyage into the unknown, to explore not the aspects of themselves with which they were already familiar, but the most unknown aspects of themselves, the hidden halves without which they could none of them be whole, without which The Programme itself could not be whole. In return, he procured their commitment to the journey: unquestioning, unqualified, unrestrained.

This, he reminded them, was the meaning of the exchange.

“I am one; we are many; together we shall be whole.”

He started with The Seer; then the Superiors, one by one. Watching, Carey wondered at the way the exact same words could sound so different. The Seer’s iteration of the exchange was a sensuous promise; Father Caleb’s sneer converted the words into a threat; Mother Naamah poured them like a delicate sauce; Father Simon was distinct, with pride in each word; Father Christopher doled them out one by one. Matthew was reminding them that what it means was different to each of them.

As he moved from Superiors to Senior Messengers, they came forward in matched pairs: two here were pious, apparently resigned yet vibrant with virtue; another couple were defiant, they belonged but they were proud of their independence; some were simply serene. Then the Junior Messengers in ranks of four; the massed Initiates in packs of six; the Acolytes in groups of ten at a time. When they had all passed before The Teacher, he said:

“Are there those present who wish to come forward?”

This was the opportunity for those who had not yet made their commitment to join The Programme at the hands of The Teacher himself, the last chance to submerge themselves into The Programme gathered together in one place and at one time. Carey watched in surprise as many other members of the congregation stepped forward through the corridors left by existing members; she realised that it had been pre-arranged, that they had already indicated an intention to join this night, had been positioned in the Hall to be able to respond to Matthew’s invitation.

Surprise gave way to another sensation. She was jealous, wistful, resented being an outsider; she was almost tempted to follow them to stand in front of Matthew and receive around her neck the chain on which hung The Programme symbol and exchange vows with him. She reassured herself - you’re a lawyer; people like you don’t join. It was small comfort.

Colin waited in the bar at his gym for his squash partner to join him for a post-match drink, ignoring the dull background thump of beat music in the gym itself: the bar was plain and quiet, a place to wind down.

Unlike his sister, he was not a heavy drinker. He did not like the loss of control.

Andrew Chettle finally emerged from the locker-room, his hair still damp. Currently between wives, he had a date lined up for whom he had replaced the suit in which he had arrived with smart casual to complement his blow-dried blond locks and the boyish sheen on his cheeks.

Colin joked:

“Teeny-bopping?”

Andrew stuck his tongue out, ordered a vodka-tonic at the bar, clinked glasses with Colin’s.

“Good game.”

“You always say that when you win,” Colin complained. “And that’s too often by half.”

They had been at Cambridge together; on the same floor in college. Then, while they were at the College of Law for their professional examinations, they had shared a flat. They had gone on to their separate firms but stayed friends, had been each other’s best man. Andrew had achieved great success, heading up a team in his firm that specialised in European work.

After Andrew’s divorce, Jan had tried him out on a handful of her available friends. Andrew wanted his youth back, lusting after newly qualifieds and trainees, pretending it had nothing to do with his partnership status and the influence he could wield on their behalves, admitting to Colin he didn’t give a damn why they found him attractive so long as the line was long enough that he couldn’t see its end.

“What time are you meeting, uh, what’shername?”

“I’m not sure,” Andrew twirled his glass in front of his face. “Annette, I think.”

“And Annette does what?” He held up a hand to forestall the obvious. “For a job.”

“BBC,” Andrew said.

“That’s a change.”

“Not really; in-house lawyer, looking for a move.”

They chit-chatted for a while until Andrew suggested a second drink.

“Just for once. Go on. Do something different.”

“Why? I like being boring and predictable.”

“It’s not the only Colin I’ve known.”

Andrew was leading somewhere. Curious, Colin accepted another beer without any intention of finishing it.

“Spit it out,” he invited.

Sometimes, when he was with Andrew, he slipped back to another time, the other Colin to whom Andrew was referring when he had said to do something different: looser, easier on himself and on others, funnier. He started to laugh just ahead of Andrew’s bawdy response.

“No, actually, she doesn’t.”

“Will you ever grow up, Andrew?”

“Like you? Have you?”

“I think so. I’m not sure, you know, that it was all quite as deliberate as it seemed, or maybe I mean that I didn’t want it to happen so fast, but, uh, well, here we are, wife and three monsters, what can you do?”

“It’s not a lot of freedom,” Andrew agreed. “Especially not on your sort of income.”

“We get by,” Colin acknowledged that his friend was right: it was hard to keep up with, let alone get ahead of, the game - schools, cars, house expenses, nannying, tax, holidays, if he added it up in round figures it exceeded his regular annual income by a significant margin. Hence his dependency on pay-out of profit.

Feeling the moment still wasn’t quite right to broach his subject, Andrew asked after Carey: they’d gone out a couple of times; once for fun, the second time to confirm that it was nothing more.

“It’s all right for her,” Colin joined together the strands of conversation. “She doesn’t have the outgoings.”

“Presumably, when your father finally lets go, the firm is worth quite a bit in capital?”

“The building, sure. It’s difficult to estimate the goodwill value without Charles, though.”

“Don’t underestimate your own value, Colin.”

Colin raised an eyebrow: mutual admiration was rarely spoken.

“They’re both still too young for you, just,” he joked his way out of his embarrassment. “If you’re, uh, asking for a hand in marriage.”

“Actually, Colin, it’s a different kind of proposal I wanted to talk to you about.” Andrew had finally, circuitously, arrived at his destination.

Colin waited in silence.

“Last time we met, you were talking about some work you wanted to tender for? What happened with it?”

“What do you think happened with it? Daddy didn’t want to get his hands dirty on the money of the oppressor before he went off to the workers’ paradise of Antibes for his pre-season holiday.”

Andrew was used to the bitterness.

“I’ve been wondering how long you’ll hang on, doing the same thing, under the parental thumb and all that.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed, trying to identify the direction the conversation was taking:

“I’m beginning to feel head-hunted,” he prodded.

“There’s a small group of us, at the office. We’re beginning to weary of ’big is beautiful’. Actually, we’re sick to death of it.” The guiding principle of the major law firms was size.

“You, Andrew? I thought you were set for life?” Colin studied him shrewdly: the other side of growth was downsizing; many of the firms who had aimed too high had been forced to let some of their number go.

“I’m fine. I’m niche. I’m even, dare I say it, safe, so far as anyone ever is. Most of it is work that’ll follow me. I’ve got a few choices,” he added.

“How many are there of you?”

“About half a dozen, give or take.”

“Are they all in your area?” Despite himself, Colin felt himself growing excited: Europe, where the future lay; expansion.

A burst of laughter from another table broke into their line of discussion. The lads were out in force tonight. Colin rose and went to the bar. He brought Andrew back another drink, and himself a tonic water to replace the beer he had barely touched.

“Are we all right for time?”

“She’s meeting me here.” He glanced at his watch. “She’ll be late; she always is.”

“There must be plenty of firms who’d snap you up.”

“It wouldn’t achieve anything; just more of the same.”

“Is there a fit?” Colin asked. “We’re still predominantly legal aid, crime, civil liberties. At any rate, that’s the reputation.”

“The reputation you don’t want to be limited to,” Andrew reminded him.

“Maybe. But what’s in it for you?”

“Size; location; property; a friendly face I can trust long-term; very long-term. Besides, you’ve got some good people: Engel, Preston; I can work with them; there’s overlap.”

“And some people you’d want to eat for breakfast.”

“So?”

Colin shook his head in admiration.

“You’ve been saving it all up, haven’t you?”

“Every word of it,” Andrew confessed. Every comment about every difficulty, and every difficult solicitor, that Colin had confided in his friend had been stored on disk until there was enough material to make into a plot.