places to fit into the landscape.
Alfred Watkins was an archaeologist, antiquarian,
photographer, inventor, miller and brewer. He doesn't
appear, however, to have shown any marked interest in
ritual magic, Zen, yoga, reincarnation, rebirthing, primal
therapy, Shiatsu or t'ai chi.
So piss off.
He'd realized when he sent it that Alfred Watkins's work, had he lived another fifty years, might have touched on several of these subjects. Perhaps the old guy would have been at the heart of the New Age movement and a member of the Green Party.
The recipients of the circular obviously realized this too and kept on sending catalogues, knowing that sooner or later Joe Powys was going to give in and fill up Trackways with New Age giftware to join the solitary box of 'healing crystals' under the counter.
Because if he didn't, the way business was going, Trackways would be closing down within the year.
There were only two envelopes left now. One was made from what looked like high quality vellum which he'd never lave recognized as recycled paper if it hadn't said so on the back, prominently.
A single word was indented in the top left-hand corner of the envelope.
EPIDEMIC
Powys finished his toast, went to wash his hands, came back and turned the envelope over a couple of times before he opened it. It contained a letter which didn't mess around.
Shit, Powys thought, I didn't know that.
Max Goff, Powys thought, aghast. I've been acquired by Max bloody Goff.
… And from what I've heard of Max Goff s propositions to personable young blokes such as myself…
… I may have to invent a prior engagement…
Powys sat and looked around the shop for a while, thinking about this.
He could see on the shelves, among the dozens of earth-mysteries books by Alfred Watkins and his successors, the spine of the deluxe hardback edition of
On the counter in front of Powys was a token display stand: dowsing rods and pendula. Mr Watkins might have been able to dowse, but he didn't have anything to say in his books about 'energy dowsing'. Or indeed about earth energies of any kind.
But all that was academic; the dowsing kits were selling well. Soon wouldn't be able to visit a stone circle without finding some studious duo slowly circumnavigating the site, dangling their pendulum and saying 'Wow' every so often.
Under the counter, because Powys hadn't had the nerve to put them on sale, was the box of 'healing' crystals which Annie – his new assistant with the Egyptian amulet – had persuaded him to buy. 'Got to embrace the New Age, Joe, and let the New Age embrace you. Mr Watkins wants you to let the New Age in, I can feel it. Sometimes I even think I can see him standing over there by the door. He's holding his hat and he's smiling.'
Wow!
Powys reached into the crystals box and helped himself to a handful of Sodalite (for emotional stability and the treatment of stress-related conditions).
Max Goff, he thought.
Max Goff!
Clutching the crystals, he discovered he was holding in his other hand a small, creased, white envelope, the last item of mail.
Mr J. Powys,
The Alfred Watkins Centre,
Hereford.
Handwritten, not too steadily. Inside, a single sheet of lined blue notepaper.
What…?
