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to look for it quickly when he had had his near-death experience. Poor Terence! And here she was sniping at him over his one little extravagance, the one bit of excitement in his life, this new Porsche of his. It was like laughing at a little boy’s new bicycle, like saying that it was too red, or too small, or that the girls would laugh at him as he rode it. It was every bit as mean as that.
Berthea put down her knife. “Actually, Terence, I’m having second thoughts. Maybe it is just the car for you. It must be lovely and fast.”
Terence responded immediately. “Oh it is, Berthy—it really is. Do you know, when I went for the test drive yesterday, Mr. Marchbanks and I did over forty-five miles an hour! You just touch the accelerator and zoom! Before you know it you’re doing forty and above.”
Berthea tried to appear impressed. “And I bet it’s got a radio and CD player,” she said. “Surround-sound, I should think.” Berthea actually did not know what surround-sound was, but she did know that it was highly sought after and was just the thing for a Porsche.
Terence looked blank. “Is there a radio? I’m not sure. And as for a gramophone, I expect it has one but I haven’t found it yet. We’ll have plenty of time to read the manual and see how to work everything. Plenty of time.”
His own mention of time made him look at his watch. He was due at sacred dance in twenty minutes and, even if he was driving there in his Porsche, he would have to leave in ten minutes or thereabouts.
“Sacred dance calls,” he said. “Are you going to come?”
At first, Berthea’s response was to feel reluctant. She did not relish the thought of mixing with Terence’s peculiar friends—and they would be peculiar, because his friends had always been peculiar—but at the same time she felt that she owed it to her brother to go. She had pledged that she would. I must not be selfish, she told herself. I must be more supportive of poor Terence, Porsche and all.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll come along. But what should I wear?”
“Something loose,” said Terence. “I wear a tracksuit. But if you don’t have that, choose clothes that you can dance in. Nothing too tight.”
Berthea remembered something. “Last time I was staying with you,” she said, “I left a tennis dress in the wardrobe. Do you think it will still be there?”
“I’m sure that it will be,” said Terence. “And it would be ideal. We encourage white. My anorak, as you will see, is entirely white. So your tennis dress will be perfect. And I can lend you some white socks—I have plenty of those.”
They went off to their respective rooms to get changed, and a short time afterwards met in the hall.
“There we are,” said Terence. “Both of us quite white! The Beings of Light love white because that is the colour of their auras.”
Berthea said that she was sure that they did. And would the Beings of Light be in attendance on this particular morning?
“Of course they will,” said Terence. “They are always there, even if they are on a different plane. We can reach their plane by opening ourselves mentally to their thought-realm. That can be done through sacred dance.”
“I look forward to it,” said Berthea.
She wanted to ask how long it would take but felt it would be tactless. Terence’s functions always seemed to go on far too long, and she was sure that sacred dance would be no exception. She did not ask. She would be positive about this. Think positively, she whispered under her breath.
“What was that?” asked Terence. “Did you say something, Berthy?”
“I said I’m positively looking forward to this, Terence.”
He beamed. “I’m so happy, Berthy. And did I tell you? The BBC people are coming to make a programme about us. They’ll be there at the dance, filming. So just think—your friends might see you! What fun!”
87. Sacred Dance
THE SACRED DANCE MEETING was held on the back lawn of a large Victorian house belonging to a member of the group.
“It’s the best possible place,” Terence explained to Berthea as they walked round the side of the house. “Minnie—she lives here—has been in the group since it started. She went to Bulgaria two years ago and danced on some of the sacred mountains there. They were not far from Peter Deunov’s birthplace at one point, and Minnie said that