Lamp Black, Wolf Grey

by Paula Brackston

  “Did someone say redhead? Stand aside!” Angus heaved himself out of the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of Laura. “What is this vision I see before me? Can it be our city girl, now a wild mountain woman?” He pulled her to him in a bear hug. As always, Laura felt tiny in the arms of this enormous man. He was well over six foot and broad shouldered and carried a little more weight than was good for him. His unruly hair and bushy beard were beginning to show grey hairs among the auburn, but there was still a youthful strength and vigor about him. “The air up here suits you, lassie. You look fabulous.”

  She smiled but said nothing. Steph narrowed her eyes.

  “You do, damn it. Too bloody fabulous, if you ask me.”

  “Come inside. I’ll make some tea.”

  “Tea!” Steph was scandalized. “Two hours on the M4 with Roald Dahl story tapes on a loop and the car stinking of cheese and onion crisps and you offer me tea? You’ve been away too long, girl. Angus, fetch the provisions.”

  The next hour passed with much excited running around on the part of the children while the adults inspected the house, champagne glasses in hand. Angus declared the upstairs a place of unprecedented hazard due to the low-flying beams. Steph was relieved to find comfortable bathrooms and said so repeatedly.

  “I don’t know what you expected,” Laura said. “A plank over an ash pit, perhaps?”

  “If not something worse. No, seriously, I’m impressed. A little rustic for my taste. A smidge folksy, if you’ll forgive my saying so, but no, it’s clean, it’s tidy, it has pretensions of chicness here and there. I see the hand of Laura the artist and the mark of Dan the hedonist and the results are pleasingly comfortable.”

  “Will I phone up and cancel the local B and B, then?” asked Angus.

  “Scoff all you like, you poor town mice,” Laura said with a laugh. “I love it here.”

  “Yes,” Steph said, looking at her friend closely, “I can see that you do.”

  Laura felt uncomfortable under such close scrutiny. Her friend knew her so well. Right now it felt as if she were looking inside her, hunting around for all her little secrets. Laura knew her affair with Rhys had changed her. She also knew that Steph would be sensitive to those changes.

  “Let’s go back downstairs,” she said. “Dan will be home soon.”

  “Ugh! What is that?” Steph had spotted the corn dolly which Laura had suspended above the bed.

  “Oh that. A neighbor gave it to me. It’s traditional around here, I think. Supposed to bring good luck in a new home, dozens of babies. That sort of thing.”

  “I couldn’t sleep under it. It’d give me the creeps. Far too Wicker Man for my liking.”

  Angus raised his bushy brows. “D’you have virgins dancing round maypoles, too, m’be? No wonder Dan finally agreed to move out here. Hey! Boys, watch the soft furnishings with those sticky fingers.”

  The children had found their way upstairs and flung themselves onto Laura’s four-poster.

  “You’ve got the best bed, Auntie Laura,” said William.

  “Can we sleep in it?” asked Hamish.

  “No, you can’t,” Steph told them.

  Their disappointed wails were only silenced by Laura promising to read them a story in it before they went to sleep in their own beds, and by tempting them downstairs with the offer of chocolate biscuits.

  In the kitchen, Laura and Steph put away the treats brought from London while Angus and the boys explored outside. Laura was aware of her friend’s eyes upon her the whole time.

  “So,” Steph began, leaning against the Aga with her second glass of champagne, “you are clearly thriving on life in the wilderness. Must be all the fresher-than-fresh air. How’s Dan finding it?”

  “Oh, you know Dan. He’s takes a while to get used to new things. But he’s coming around to the idea. Slowly.”

  “No regrets, then?”

  “No regrets.”

  “Are the natives friendly?”

  “Most of them. Although we do have a grouchy farmer living up the road.”

  “Any local talent?”

  “Steph, how should I know?”

  “There must be a social scene of some sort. Can’t believe it’s all barn dances and Women’s Institute.”

  Laura shrugged. “We haven’t been here long enough to make proper friends yet.”

  “I suppose not,” said Steph. “I suppose not.”

  Laura was surprised to find herself longing for Dan to come home. If she were honest, she didn’t know how long she could avoid telling Steph about Rhys. They had known each other too long. With Dan home things would be easier. The evening would slip into friendly drunkenness and banter once the men got together, and the focus would move away from her.

  In fact, Dan arrived back from work early, so that by the time Laura snuggled in her big bed to read the boys their story, raucous laughter could be heard from the adults downstairs. She cuddled the children tightly as she read to them from an old book of fairy tales. They listened enthralled, Hamish sucking his thumb, William following the words on the page as she read. Moments like these were still exquisitely painful for Laura. She had always loved Steph’s boys and had been close to them from the day they were born, but naturally they reminded her acutely of her own childlessness. Steph and Angus had always been very sensitive and thoughtful, but a certain amount of hurt was inevitable. Laura remembered Steph telling her almost apologetically when she had become pregnant each time. Of course Laura was happy for her friend and adored spending time with the children, but still there was the envy that would never go away, irritating and impossible to ignore like a stone in your shoe.

  “There you are. Time for bed,” she said as she shut the book.

  “One more story, Auntie Laura,” pleaded little Hamish.

  “You’ve already had two.”

  “Look at this.” William had picked up a book from beside the bed. It was the one Laura had borrowed from Rhys. “This is the same as your one, Auntie Laura,” he said, pointing up at the corn dolly hanging above the bed.

  Laura squinted over his shoulder at the picture he had found. He was right. The drawing was very detailed and, aside from small variations in the materials, it was indeed identical to what Anwen had given her. The note beneath the picture caught her eye. She had expected to read of the powers the dolly had to help a woman conceive, something about increasing fertility perhaps. Instead she found what she had dangling above her head was a powerful talisman for protecting whoever slept beneath it. It was used when there was a close and imminent danger from an unseen evil. Why on earth would Anwen give her such a thing? Who did she think she needed protecting from? Laura shivered and slammed the book shut.

  “Come on, lads,” she said, pulling them gently from the bed. “Teeth, faces, and sleep for you.”

  That evening, with Dan home and in top form, it was a pleasant change to be in the company of old friends. Laura had not been conscious of missing such small social gatherings, but now she felt a pang of nostalgia for her old city life and the closeness she had felt with those who knew her well. As the four of them worked their way through their first bottle of good claret, Laura allowed herself to relax properly for the first time in a long while. The first time, if she was being honest with herself, since she she had been with Rhys. She glanced at Steph, wondering what she would say if she knew. Laura was certain she would be shocked, and would tell her she was mad to risk losing Dan. She could be trusted with such a secret, of course, but Laura was reluctant to face her friend’s disapproval.

  “Glad to see young Daniel still keeps a fine cellar,” said Angus, returning from the kitchen to join the women in the sitting room.

  “How’s it going in there?” Laura asked.

  “Chef says dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”

  “It’d better be good and plenty of it,” said Steph. “I’m ravenous.”

  “Another glass of this and I won’t care what it’s like.” Laura picked up the bott
le and topped off everyone.

  “I’ve always admired Dan’s culinary expertise.” Angus lowered himself heavily onto the squishy leather sofa beside Laura. “Sadly, I am a man who could burn water.”

  “Or so you would have us believe,” said Steph. “Don’t think you’re fooling anyone with this klutz-in-the-kitchen routine, Angus. You’re just happy to let someone else do all the work.”

  “And happy to eat the results,” said Laura with a laugh as she prodded at his ample tummy.

  “Och, Laura, I am wounded. Wounded!”

  Laura let Angus pull her into an affectionate embrace. She had always had a soft spot for this gentle mountain of a man, with his good humor and kind heart. It was a comfort to have him with her now, but also a sharp reminder of what she risked by seeing Rhys. Deceiving Dan, should she have been found out, would have affected more than just the three of them.

  “Never mind,” she told Angus. “You can walk it all off tomorrow. Dan’s determined to get you up that mountain.”

  “I’m up for it. And the boys will love it.”

  “Smart move, taking the boys,” said Steph. “Even you can keep up with a five-year-old.”

  “Just mind you don’t get lost,” Laura warned him. “The weather can change in minutes up there. We’ve had a lot of mist and fog lately. And Dan is frankly hopeless at map reading.”

  “Did someone mention my name?” Dan appeared in the doorway, tea towel over his shoulder, spatula in hand. “Grub up, people!”

  The four ate hungrily, enjoying Dan’s excellent cooking and washing it down with more wine. By the time they reached the pudding, Laura was feeling deliciously mellow and more than a little drunk. Looking at the others she could see she was not the only one.

  “So,” Dan said, leaning back in his chair. “What do you two city slickers think of our humble dwelling?”

  “I’ll admit it’s nothing like as bad as I thought it would be,” said Steph.

  “That’s her way of saying she loves it,” Laura pointed out.

  “Steph could never love anything outside zone two,” said Angus, helping himself to more apple and whinberry pie.

  “I didn’t say I’d want to live here. Someone pass me that pud before Angus eats the lot. All I meant was, it does have a certain charm. All this”—she waved her hands about—“old stuff. Very atmospheric. If a smidge spooky.”

  “Spooky? How so?” asked Angus, spooning more cream onto his second helping of pie.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just the thought of generations of people dying in their beds here, probably of some ghastly disease.”

  Angus rolled his eyes.

  “Stephanie, you’ve a fascination with all things morbid, woman. How will I dare close my eyes tonight after what you’ve just said?”

  “Hasn’t bothered you enough to put you off your food I notice,” said Steph.

  “This might be my last meal!” he said with a laugh.

  “Actually,” Dan said, sitting up and adopting a ridiculously somber voice. “Laura has noticed the odd … presence here and there.”

  “Dan…” Laura shot him a look.

  “Ghosts, d’you mean?” asked Angus.

  “Great!” Steph tossed her napkin onto the table. “Now I won’t be able to sleep either.”

  “Not ghosts.” Laura shook her head.

  Angus raised his brows. “No manacled peasants wandering the house, head tucked under arm?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Angus. Dan was exaggerating, as usual.” Laura really did not want to be drawn into the discussion.. She wished she had never mentioned anything to Dan.

  “Well,” said Angus, pushing his plate away at last, “the only kind of spirits I want to find way up here are the ones young Daniel’s going to offer me with my coffee.”

  Laura stood up and began to clear the table, relieved the conversation had turned away from such a sensitive topic.

  Steph got up to help her.

  “Doesn’t it give you the heebie-jeebies, Laura? You spend so much time here on your own. Have you really noticed something?”

  Laura stacked plates and spoke without looking up, “No, of course not. It was nothing, just getting used to a new place. Like I said, Dan was exaggerating. I’ll put on the coffee.”

  8

  MEGAN HAD GAINED an unexpected day of freedom when Lady Rhiannon decided on a whim to take the children to visit her sister on the far side of the valley. She had pointedly stated that Megan would not be required to accompany them, though she must be ready to attend to the children’s needs when they returned that night. Megan took the chance to pay a visit to her father, only half admitting to herself that she might go on to see Merlin later in the day. She did ponder the thought that Lord Geraint may have instructed his wife to leave Megan behind. If she were to do as he commanded and persuade Merlin to aid him she would need the opportunity to spend time in his company.

  She enjoyed the walk through the woods to Penlan but this time did not dally to collect plants. In truth, her feelings for Merlin were distracting her so that it was often hard to focus on any given task. As she approached her father’s house she saw four horses tied to the meadow gate. Three were workaday coursers, but the fourth was a fine white destrier with legs the color of polished silver. Four men stood in the yard talking to her father. Her unexpected appearance clearly startled them. Megan noticed two of the men reach for their swords. Their hands were stayed by a small signal from the tallest member of the party. He was dressed in simple clothes but had a commanding presence.

  “Megan! Come here, Daughter,” Twm said as he beckoned her. “I have customers, as you see, searching for new horses.”

  Megan stepped forward and bobbed a polite curtsey.

  The tall man glanced about him, looking disconcerted.

  “Why do you bow your head to me, girl? I am a merchant, like your father.”

  “Forgive me, sir.” Megan blushed, confused. “A destrier of such quality ordinarily signifies an owner of noble birth.” She saw the four exchange glances. Whatever they had told her father, Megan was quite certain these were not merely men of trade. The tall man had a handsome face and a shock of blond hair. As she studied him Megan realized she knew that face. She opened her mouth to speak, but another voice made everyone present wheel about.

  “It seems Megan has more wit than any of you.” Merlin strode into the yard, his face clouded with anger.

  “Well, well,” said Twm. “My house is a popular place for chance meetings today.”

  “It is not chance that brings Lord Idris to your door, Twm,” Merlin told him.

  “Lord Idris!” Twm looked afresh at the man he had taken for a horse buyer.

  Now Megan knew why his face was familiar. She knew also beyond a doubt that Merlin had been right in his suggestion of Huw’s true parentage.

  Lord Idris stepped forward.

  “Forgive me, Twm, for this deceit. I came to seek out Merlin. Word had reached me he was to be found near your house. I cannot travel safely in the district of Lord Geraint without disguise.”

  “A disguise not well enough done to fool a maid,” Merlin said. “Your business is with me. You have put this family in danger by coming here.”

  “Had my spies kept me better informed I would have come straight to your own dwelling, Prophet. I accept the fault is my own.”

  To Megan’s amazement, Lord Idris sank to his knees and bowed his head. She had never before seen a man of noble birth behave in such a fashion. What reputation Merlin must possess to have powerful people fall at his feet. It was Twm who found his tongue first.

  “Let us go inside,” he said. “Please, my Lord. We cannot know who may be watching us even now.”

  Merlin placed a hand on the young noble’s shoulder.

  “Come,” he said. “Twm is right. We must talk inside.”

  Megan hesitated, uncertain of her place in such company. Merlin saw her hanging back.

  “Come with us, Megan. If I cannot
keep you separate from these affairs then I must keep you close.” He held out his hand and she took it, and together they went into the house where Twm was already spooning cawl into bowls.

  * * *

  ON SATURDAY MORNING Laura got up early after a restless night. She slipped out of the house while everyone else was still asleep, leaving a note explaining she had gone to the village for milk and papers. In truth, she wanted to see Anwen. She reasoned that farming families always started their day at dawn, and that the old woman wouldn’t mind her dropping in. Laura had questions she wanted answered. She could only hope Glyn would be out tending his flock, or whatever it was he did on his wretched quad bike. As she drove up the bumpy track to the farm there was no sign of life, save for a few moribund cows and a solitary hen. Laura paused to look for the dog before stepping out of her car, but it was nowhere to be seen. The rain had turned the yard that she remembered as dusty into a sea of ankle-deep sludge. Cursing herself for not wearing her Wellington boots, Laura picked her way to the front door, her leather trainers unrecognizable by the time she reached the garden gate. She got no farther. The door was snatched open and the bad-tempered sheepdog ran out. It circled Laura, growling as it did so. Laura froze, fearing that to move might result in her first-ever dog bite. Glyn appeared in the doorway. He wore his usual raggedy collection of clothes, but without the all-encompassing coat. This time his trousers were accessorized with baler twine. His grubby flat cap was still firmly stuck to his head.

  “Oh, good morning.” Laura did her best to sound cheerful, despite the dog. “So sorry to call unannounced.” She knew she was being ridiculously formal, but the old man unnerved her. “I was hoping to have a word with Anwen.”

  “What’s that?”

  Laura wondered if long hours riding the noisy quad had damaged his hearing. She tried again, a little louder this time.

  “Your wife. Is she at home?”

  Glyn’s already grim face set into a harsh scowl now, his thin lips almost disappearing altogether.

  “Why don’t you go back where you came from!” It was more an instruction than a question. “Leave me be,” he added. He gave a silent signal to the dog, which shot back inside as if stung by a bee. The old man paused to clear his throat and spit onto the path before turning his back on Laura and slamming the front door behind him.