Lamp Black, Wolf Grey

by Paula Brackston

  9

  ON SUNDAY MORNING the children had dragged everyone out of bed early for the promised walk. The mist had lifted just enough to make it a viable option, though the skies were anything but clear. Angus had already been to the shop for the papers and breakfast had been eaten at record speed. Laura washed up as Steph tried to organize the boys.

  “Hamish!” Steph grabbed the boy as he sprinted past her. “You haven’t cleaned your teeth this morning. Go on, quickly now, everyone else is ready to go.”

  “Mum, do I have to?”

  “Did you ever see a mountaineer with bad teeth? Course not. You want to go hill walking, you gotta have clean teeth, OK?”

  “OK,” he grumbled, heading for the stairs.

  Laura watched the way William stepped forward to make the most of his brother’s temporary absence.

  “Look, Auntie Laura, I’ve got everything we might need in my backpack, in case of emergencies.”

  “Wow, you do look well equipped. Let’s see, bandages, a compass, packets of dried food. How long are you planning on being up there?”

  “You have to be prepared. Look, this is so cool. It’s a survival blanket.”

  Steph peered over Laura’s shoulder. “Looks like something to wrap the Sunday roast in.”

  “Mum! It’s made of the same stuff astronauts use in space. It’s to stop you dying of exposure.”

  Laura laughed with the others, but she could not shake off the feeling of unease that had dogged her since casting the spell the day before. After Anwen’s extreme reaction Laura had spent a difficult hour on the Internet trying to translate the words of the incantation. If she had only bothered to acquire a Welsh dictionary when they had moved to Penlan the task might have been a simple one. As it was, she could only find translations for a few of the words by picking through place names and snippets of quotations and poems given in parallel texts. Despite gaps, though, she discovered enough to make her feel ill at the thought of what she had been doing. It was clear Rhys had lied to her. This was not a spell to increase fertility or the chances of conception. This was a hex, a curse, and a very specific one at that. No wonder he had been keen for her to use Dan’s name in it. It had not been a generous act at all. He must have known her conscience would not allow her to put Rhys’s name on the egg, so he had rightly assumed he would not be the one cursed. From what Laura had gleaned the incantation implored whatever powers where listening to separate the two people named and see that they were kept apart forever. She found the wickedness of this deceit breathtaking, and did not wonder, now, at Anwen’s fury. She also marveled at Rhys’s cleverness. Had he had her sticking pins in dolls or setting fire to a few stolen hairs from Dan’s comb she might have been suspicious. But an egg, somehow it was such a universal symbol of fertility that she never questioned it. At first she had wanted to confront Rhys, to tell him what she knew. How dare he trick her like that? How could he lead her into doing something so vile? But, after a restless night spent turning the thing over and over in her mind, she decided to say nothing. At least, not yet. She would wait until Steph and Angus had gone home. It was too complicated to deal with Rhys while they were still at the house, and there was the wretched walk to get past first.

  Dan came into the kitchen, clapping his hands together, full of purpose and enthusiasm.

  “Right! Are we all ready?”

  Laura pointed to William’s pack and said, “Ready for anything, I’d say.”

  “It’s stuff in case of emergencies, Uncle Dan.”

  “Splendid. Be prepared for anything, William, absolutely right. I was a boy scout myself, you know. In fact, I got my whittling badge when I was only…”

  “Oh, please.” Steph gave an exaggerated groan. “Spare us the Boy Scouts stuff. Angus! Where the hell are you?”

  “Coming, oh great one.” Angus appeared wearing a striking pair of hiking shorts.

  “My God,” said Dan. “The last surviving member of the Famous Five!”

  “Mock me if you will, Daniel Matthews, you know you’re just jealous.”

  “I think you look the part,” Laura told him, as Hamish came scampering back into the room. “Here we are. You’re all set then.”

  “Not quite,” said Steph. “Where’s your lovely guide?”

  Laura had half hoped Rhys wouldn’t show up. The appointed hour for the walk had come and there was no sign of him. Had he thought better of spending so much time with his lover’s husband? The answer to Laura’s question came with a knock on the open front door.

  “Hi, everyone ready?” Rhys flashed one of his most charming smiles. Everybody smiled back. Everybody except Laura.

  After much jostling for position the party set off. Laura and Steph stood in the yard to watch them leave. There was no wind, just a dampness in the air after such a long spell of mist and rain. Laura felt strangely uneasy as she watched the boys trotting off behind Rhys. She shook her head to rid herself of silly notions and turned back to the house.

  “I’ll make some fresh coffee,” she said.

  Inside Steph sat down at the kitchen table and flicked idly through the Sunday papers.

  “All seems a million miles away, doesn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, all this news, the rest of the world, real life.”

  “This is real life. Real for me and Dan, anyway.”

  “If you say so.”

  Laura stole a glance at Steph, but she seemed intent on an article. She sensed that her friend had something on her mind. She measured coffee into the percolator and tried to decide if she could risk confiding in Steph. It would be good to talk to someone, but was it fair? She was Dan’s friend, too, after all. The decision was made for her when Steph straightened up, looked her in the eye, and said, “So, have you let him shag you yet?”

  Laura opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by the knowing look her friend was giving her. She sighed, sitting down heavily at the table.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ He is gorgeous, I grant you, but hells bells, Laura, what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know. It just … happened.”

  “Oh please! What does that mean, exactly? He just happened to be passing when all your clothes just happened to fall off, and he just happened to jump your bones? Somewhere along the line you made the decision to have an affair, Laura. At least admit that much.”

  Laura closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “It isn’t as simple as that.”

  “Yes it is. He fancied the pants off you, you got all flustered and flattered. Fine, you could have left it there. But no, you chose to sleep with him. You’re cheating on Dan, and you’re lying to yourself.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to excuse what I’ve done. I’m just saying there was more to it than that.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him! Please don’t tell me that.”

  “No. No, I’m not. It was a physical thing.”

  “So you’re risking your marriage, and you’re prepared to hurt Dan, just for a shag?”

  “Steph…”

  “I don’t see what’s complicated about it. You think I haven’t been tempted? That I haven’t had offers in the twelve years I’ve been with Angus? Of course I have. It’s an ego boost, it makes the old pulse speed up a bit, you get all wet-knickered at the thought of the guy for a few weeks, but you don’t act on it, for Chrissake. You buy some sexy clothes, daydream, watch silly movies, snap at your spouse. Then you wake up one morning and realize the object of your lust is a bit of a plonker anyway, and you’d have to spend ages training him up, and you move on. You don’t throw away everything for a crush.”

  “By everything you mean Dan?” Laura looked up now, beginning to feel cross at the way Steph was reacting. “Let’s not forget the crucial difference between your everything and mine, Steph. You have children to consider. I don’t.”

  “Unbelievable! You’re actually using your childlessness to justi
fy screwing around? Haven’t you forgotten it’s Dan’s childlessness, too?”

  “But I’m the one with the body that doesn’t work properly, not Dan! I’m the one every gynecologist in London has poked and prodded and declared inexplicably but irredeemably infertile!” Laura was shouting now. “Well, maybe I needed to feel that I wasn’t some dried up hag. Maybe I needed to feel good about my body again. To feel desirable. Not just an object of pity.”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t be you I’m pitying when Dan finds out and his heart is broken.”

  “You just don’t understand.”

  “Too bloody right I don’t!”

  Laura stood up, her chair scraping on the flagstones. “Well, thanks for your support,” she yelled as she stormed out of the house.

  By the time she reached her studio, she was crying uncontrollably. She was hurt that Steph had been so harsh, had given her no sympathy at all. But if she was honest with herself, she knew her friend was entitled to be so angry, and that she was right in what she said. She had betrayed Dan for what she knew now had been a passing madness. She should have just told Steph straight away that it was over between her and Rhys, that she felt guilty as hell and hated herself for what she had done. But she had felt cornered. Ashamed. And she was still worried at what might lie ahead. She knew Rhys well enough to be certain he would not take it well when she told him she didn’t want to see him anymore. Would he tell Dan?

  Laura sat on the stool in front of her easel and let her tired mind change its focus to the painting in front of her. She looked at the girl in the wild woods and recognized something of herself that she hadn’t seen before. Not just the physical resemblance—she had been aware of that as she had painted, of course. There was a certain lostness about the figure, a peculiar sense of her being adrift and alone and searching for something that struck a chord. She reached forward and let her fingers wander over the thick paint. It was perfectly dry now. She had thought of working a little more on the picture, but at that moment decided it would be best left in its slightly raw, unfinished state.

  A sound behind her made Laura jump. She turned to look. At first she could see nothing, but then she noticed movement in the shadows in the far corner of the studio. She climbed off the stool.

  “Who is it? Who’s there?” As she waited for an answer she felt goose bumps prickling her arms. She moved forward tentatively, aware of her accelerated heartbeat. She heard another noise and stopped. “Come out!” she said, failing to keep a frightened shrillness out of her voice. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself but nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

  A figure stepped out into the light. Laura recognized him at once. Close up he was taller than she had expected, his long hair coal black and his eyes the blue of a Renaissance Madonna’s dress. It was impossible to say how old he was. He had the strength and bearing of a man in his prime, yet there was a wisdom about his face that spoke of age. His dark robe almost completely covered his somewhat drab clothing. The staff he carried bore intricate carvings of strange symbols and hieroglyphics. Laura wanted to run, but found she could not.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “You know who I am,” he answered in a soft, low voice. He moved forward again until he was standing so close Laura could have reached out and touched him, had she had the courage.

  “Are you real? Am I losing my mind?” she asked.

  His response to her question was to reach out very slowly and take her hand in his. Laura gasped as she felt his strong, warm fingers wrapped around her own. He placed her palm against his chest so that she could feel the steady thud of his heart. She stared at him, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. What she was feeling. Merlin let go of her hand.

  “You have no need to fear me. I promise I will protect you,” he said, letting a smile spread warmth across his features.

  “What do you mean? Protect me from what?”

  “So many questions. Be patient and all will be explained.”

  “This is madness. I’m talking to … what? A ghost? A character from a legend? From a storybook?”

  “I am as real as you are, Laura,” he said.

  Something came into Laura’s head, something Anwen had said. “He is as real as you or I.” Her mind raced to make sense of it all. Surely not knowing the difference between real and imaginary was an early sign of insanity. And yet, here she was, talking to a person who most definitely did not exist in her world, but who was solid and alive and living and breathing and talking right there in front of her.

  Merlin seemed to sense her bewilderment. He lifted his hand and, with the gentlest of touches, stroked Laura’s cheek.

  “OK, enough sulking.” The sound of Steph’s voice at the door made Laura swing around. “You can’t stay in here all day.”

  Laura turned back, but Merlin had vanished. All that remained was a glow on her face where he had touched her. She put her own hand to her cheek, remembering how she had felt before the exact same mixture of fear and thrill, of almost unbearable excitement, that first day in the bedroom at Penlan. Now she knew who had been the cause of it.

  “You’re not going to make this even more bloody difficult for me are you?” Steph rolled her eyes. “OK, I admit, I had no right to be so judgmental. I’m sorry.”

  Laura pulled herself together as best she could. “No, it’s OK. You were right. I’m sorry I overreacted. You touched a nerve,” she said, wishing her breathing would steady. “And anyway, it’s over. I’ve been making myself miserable with guilt ever since. I know it was a mistake.” She was relieved Steph had chosen to make peace with her. She needed her friend’s support, now more than ever. There was no way, however, she could begin to tell her about what she had just experienced.

  Steph stepped forward and slipped her arms around Laura, hugging her warmly. “You know I’d support you, whatever you did,” she told her. “Even if I do have to have a go at you first. I’m just worried for you. And I’m here if you need to talk. You must have been going through some kind of hell keeping this all to yourself. Wow!” Steph noticed the painting on the easel. “Is this some of your new stuff? It’s certainly different.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Pretty wild. Quite trippy, in fact. And those colors … quite a change from what you usually do, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t like it.”

  “I do! I do. God, don’t be so sensitive. I just said it was different, and it is, right?”

  “Yes, it is. I’ve been trying to do something new. Something that reflects the way this place makes me feel.”

  “Have you got any more?’ Steph moved to a stack of canvases leaning against the wall and began to look through them.

  “Not really, nothing finished anyway. Just sketches and stuff.”

  “What does Penny say?”

  “Oh, she hasn’t been up here to have a look yet.”

  “You do surprise me—she’s such a dragon. I’m amazed she’s let you drift on for so long.”

  “I am not drifting.” Laura gently eased herself between Steph and the rest of her paintings, finding a cover to drape over the stack. “Sorry, have to keep the dust out. It’s a bit of a menace in here.” She looked up at Steph, her uncertainty etched on her face. “Do you think they’re rubbish? Please tell me honestly.”

  “Laura, you are incapable of producing rubbish, as you bloody well know. I admire your courage—doing something new is bound to be a bit scary. Relax. Everyone will love them, I promise you. Now, come on,” she said, putting an arm around Laura’s shoulders and giving her another brief but warm hug. “Let’s go and have some lunch.”

  “Lunch? We’ve only just had breakfast.”

  “Good grief, you must have been deeply into something in here. You’ve been at it nearly three hours.”

  “Three hours?” Laura could not believe such an amount of time had passed. So many inexplicable things were happening to her at once that she could not take
any of it in properly.

  They ate together quietly, an unspoken agreement not to discuss Rhys further for the moment, enabling them to be friends again. Laura was so shaken by her encounter in the studio, she could barely think straight. She knew that at the first opportunity she must seek out Anwen. She was the only person Laura could discuss Merlin with without feeling she was a complete lunatic. She was so distracted she hardly noticed the cloud descending outside. It wasn’t until the fog thickened to the point where the yard wall could no longer be seen from the kitchen window that she began to worry. Where had the walkers got to? It would be a whiteout on the mountain. These were not the conditions in which to be up there with two small boys. She noticed Steph checking her watch.

  “Don’t worry. Rhys knows the mountains very well. They’ll be home soon,” she told her.

  “I don’t feel great about the welfare of my boys resting on his shoulders. Still, I suppose Angus is only an idiot part time. I need a drink,” she said, going to the fridge and fetching a bottle of Chablis.

  Laura went back to staring out into the eerie whiteness. She had so much to think about it was an effort to keep still. Steph had indeed touched a nerve where Rhys was concerned, but what had happened between them was in the past. Merlin’s appearance, on the other hand, was something she knew she would not be able to ignore. Assuming he was who he claimed to be, and assuming also that she was not losing her mind, why had he chosen to manifest himself to her? What did he want? Why did she feel such a strange and powerful connection with him? And what did he want to protect her from? And now there were the boys to worry about. She kept telling herself no harm could come to them. True, the mountain could be testing, even for experienced hikers, but they had three grown men with them. They would appear through the mist any minute—she was certain of it.

  Half an hour later the cloud lifted as quickly as it had descended. Laura opened the door and went into the garden, certain she could make out some movement on the edges of the visible hill. Steph joined her.

  “Can you see anything?” she asked.