by Finegan, KT
I sent up a silent prayer. ‘Gran, please help me find this. Please show me.’ And then, as an afterthought, I added, ‘Make it obvious, please.’
As I finished saying this, my eye was drawn to halfway down one of the shelves labelled Town History. I noticed some books relating to the March Stones, volumes and volumes by date order of what looked like investigations and research. I wiped dust away from one of the books and couldn’t believe it. The author was Kirsten Cairngeal Wallace. My grandmother!
I quickly looked through the rest of the books around it, but this was the only one with Gran’s name on it. That had to be a sign, as Angel would have said! I carefully took the book from its place and laid it down on one of the tables, switching on the desk lamp as I did so.
The book was even more ancient-looking when I opened it up, and had been written on some kind of cloth. The first letter of each page was intricately painted like something out of an old bible, but the colours were vibrant despite its obvious age. It was written in an old-style script, each letter beautifully formed, and I realised that this was much older than something my grandmother could have done.
As I carefully turned over each page, I saw illustrations including what seemed to be copies of the stained glass windows at the church, and of our Stones. I could see the spiral pattern all around the edges of each page. It was difficult to read, as ageing had erased some of the letters, and dampness had caused some of the pages to stick together. This hadn’t been written by my gran, but by an older relative a long time ago. I wondered if Gran had found it and been able to understand it better than I had. It certainly wasn’t going to help me. I felt useless and stupid.
Reluctantly, I closed the book and turned to put it back on the shelf, but it slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Thick dust rose up and pages were dislodged across the floor. I dreaded anyone coming in and finding out what I‘d done to what was obviously a valuable book. As quickly as I could, I put the loose leaves back into the cover and pushed it back into position.
As I did so, a little, red-covered book fell onto the floor. It must have been jammed into the back of the bookcase. I bent to pick it up and saw it was called The Mysteries and Legends of The Old Toone. A fresh white envelope poked out from within. I hardly breathed as I turned it round to see what was written on the other side. It was addressed to me. In Granny’s handwriting.
19
There was a bang from somewhere deep in the building, and at the same time the lamp went out. I guessed that a fuse had blown, and even though I had never stolen a single thing in my entire life, I popped the book and the letter quickly into my pocket. I stuck my head out of the door and round the side of the shelves, but there was no-one around. The reading room was still empty, and now the overhead fluorescent lamps were out. I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the main staircase and the librarian telling people there was a power cut.
I joined a small queue to leave the building through the revolving door and the side doors, which had been opened by a worried-looking, grey-haired lady in the blue uniform issued by the local council to all its employees. I thanked her and smiled as I left. She had been one of the women who had left the meeting with us the night before, and she still looked upset. I didn’t suppose this interruption to her routine would help.
The queue included some loud, excited kids who, from their uniforms, should have been at school, and some little toddlers and their harassed mothers. I walked quickly back up the High Street in the drizzle and light fog, not daring to look at my treasure until I was somewhere safe. Grizelle was standing outside her shop, as were some of the other shopkeepers. The electricity for the whole block was out, and her side of the street was in eerie darkness.
‘Kirsty, looks like we’ve had a power cut,’ she called to me. ‘Did you notice if the bottom of the road was the same?’
The other worried shopkeepers were looking at me for an answer. It was not good to have to close for business in the middle of the day. As I started to explain that I’d been in the library and that it was also in darkness, there was a loud scream from the other side of the road. We all turned round to see a huge crowd spilling out of The Cross Well pub, which sat on the opposite corner from The Three Keys.
A fight had erupted and a couple of men were punching and kicking each other, while the on-lookers were pushing and punching, too. It was horrible to see and hear the noise of flesh thumping flesh, bone and muscle.
It was bizarre. One side of the street was concerned with sorting out electricity, the other was fighting and screaming. The faces of the people watching were contorted with sick pleasure, and more passers-by ran over to get a better view of the fight. I felt sick and turned away towards Grizelle. I didn’t want to see it.
‘Let’s get some lunch,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing for us here.’
We walked in silence up to Angel’s shop, both shaken by what we’d witnessed.
‘What do you really think is going on, Grizelle? That’s two fights we’ve seen within a day… this isn’t the town I knew.’
‘Nor me,’ she agreed. ‘I get the feeling things will get worse unless we can do something to help’.
I told her about seeing the black rat and how it had given me the creeps, and she shuddered. ‘That’s not a good sign.’
I felt the letter and book in my pocket, but for some reason didn’t want to talk about them out in the street. I waited until we were sitting down and Angel had joined us before I told them about my visit to the library, Gran’s key opening the locked door, and finding the book and letter.
I could tell they were both really excited, and Angel leaned over to hug me.
‘Hopefully you can get some answers and we can know more about Kirsten’s plans,’ she said.
‘I knew she would get something to you.’ Grizelle’s eyes were shining with excitement. ‘How clever you are working all that out.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I don’t think it was clever, it was more like following the signs. I don’t think it could have been more obvious for me. Remember that little moth I told you about? It was there again, in the library… or at least, I think that’s what it was.’
‘Never mind how you got it, and don’t feel bad about yourself,’ Angel replied. ‘I have a feeling it will help and make you feel better about your gran’s passing. She loved you so much.’
At talk of my Gran, I felt a sadness fall over me again. The temporary lift from the excitement of finding the letter had faded, leaving me with melancholy again.
‘I wonder…’ began Grizelle. ‘I wonder if something has already happened to the other Stones and that’s why there has been such unrest in the town. We’ve been concentrating on the quarry, but what if some of the other Stones have been tampered with… just like the one in your garden.’
Her words sat between us all, connecting us in a feeling of dread and doom. I felt sick, and put down my last forkful of the hot apple pie and cream I’d been savouring.
‘We’ll have to go and see,’ Angel said. ‘There’s no other way to be really sure. Is there?’
‘Can we leave it until morning?’ I asked. It was already lunchtime and we didn’t have much daylight left. The fog wouldn’t help.
‘I don’t think we can,’ Angel replied.
‘I really need to read Gran’s letter before I do anything else,’ I told them, hoping they’d understand how much it meant to me. ‘I appreciate how important it is to check on the Stones, but I need to know what Gran wanted to tell me.’
‘Of course, Kirsty, of course.’ Angel got up from the table. ‘You do that while we are getting things ready.’
Grizelle left to get her boots and waterproofs, and said she had spare pair for me and would be back within fifteen minutes. I left Angel speaking to her staff while I went round to the courtyard.
I had a sense to sit in the pyrami
d while I read the letter. I was desperate to hear from Gran, but at the same time I was really scared. What if her last words to me were of her disappointment? I still felt so guilty that I hadn’t spoken to her properly. And so sad that I hadn’t been with her when she died. Was that something I could ever live with?
Under the pyramid, I snuggled into the blankets and sat beside the crystals Angel had placed in the centre. I ripped open the envelope and gasped as I saw Gran’s beautifully-formed, looped script covering the page. It seemed like another lifetime since I’d received one of those letters from home. The fact that this was the last ever hurt me so much more than I’d thought possible.
My hands were shaking as I unfolded it to read.
‘My dear girl, first of all I have to let you know that I am incredibly proud of you, from the girl you were to the beautiful woman you have become. There is nothing you could ever do to change that. I love you always. Do not ever forget that you and I are connected forever in love. You are precious to me, my wonderful granddaughter and special friend. If you think of me, don’t be sad. Imagine that I am in the next room. Not far away, and able to hear all that you say.
I ask now that you forgive me for leaving you without explanation of all that our family, you and I are here to do on this earth. Now that it’s time to go I realise that I was a little afraid to tell you everything in case you were upset, and I lost you the way I lost your mother. I didn’t want to put you through that. Please forgive an old lady who should have known better to trust that you would have understood. I am sorry.
So instead, I am telling you in this letter that you have to save the Stones. You cannot let them be moved in any way. They must stay where they are. Where they have been for thousands of years. It is our life.
Take the keys. They will guide you. Find the door and you will find me. I cannot say any more than that. Read the red book. It is not safe for me to write anything else. Words and thoughts are energy, and once they are out, others can sense them. I’m blowing you a kiss, my girl.
I love you more than life. Until we meet again,
Your loving Granny x x x’
It wasn’t the explanation I’d hoped for, but the fact that she loved me and wasn’t disappointed meant so much more than I could express. Relief and loss flooded through me. As if there was anything to forgive. I loved my Gran and she loved me. Until we met again, because I knew we would.
I cried for a few minutes, then a new resolve came over me. Gran wanted me to save the Stones, and I didn’t care why. I would do all I could to save them. For her.
20
Traditionally, the walk around the March Stones – or ‘Perambulation of the Marches’, as was its official title – took place in early summer when it was usually dry, with long evenings lit until nearly midnight. No-one walked it in winter, but at least due to the cold weather, the ground would be frozen and not boggy. If we took torches we should be okay, and would be able to do it within a couple of hours.
Angel and I dressed in our warmest clothing, and she lent me a heavy waterproof jacket. Grizelle brought spare green wellies for me. She had a couple of little torches with her and a small day sack with some bottled water and chocolate, in case we got hungry. Grizelle suggested that we drive as close to the Stones as we could then walk the rest of the way. It would mean a meandering drive around the town, but given the weather and time of year it would be less difficult than walking from Stone to Stone across country around the town. The rivers were in full flow, so crossing over the forges or using the stepping stones, which were usually visible in summer, would be impossible.
Angel and I agreed and we set off in Grizelle’s estate car, a much better option than Angel’s old Beetle. On the way I told them about Gran’s letter and how my feelings had been bitter sweet when I saw her writing on the envelope. I explained that I hadn’t had time to look at the book, but felt there was more information that would help us. They were sympathetic and understanding.
We decided to start at Gran’s house to make sure that our Stone was still in place. Arriving back at the house, it felt like a hundred years since my last visit.
We thoroughly inspected the ground around the Stone, but it looked strongly embedded and I couldn’t believe it had been moved before. I asked Angel about that day and what she had been saying when she had wrestled the Stone into place.
‘I was asking the angels and nature elementals – you know, like the fairies and elves – and all of the light and love to help me, she explained.
There was no point in asking if she really believed in them, as she so obviously did. I suppose at that point, despite my experiences, I still didn’t fully understand.
‘It worked, remember?’ she added.
Angel and Grizelle stood on either side of the Stone with their hands lightly touching its surface for a few minutes before letting go. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so leant against the tree nearby. It was as if I could feel the power of the tree through my coat, as if I was plugged into an electricity source, and at the same time a calmness overcame me. I had a sense that if I closed my eyes I would sleep forever and wouldn’t want to leave the peace of the garden.
I realised that was how Gran had felt about this place. She must have been so connected. I wondered if the trees and plants knew she had gone. With that thought, I wondered if I was in danger of ‘running away with the faeries’, which was what Gran used to say about me when I was young. Funny how only a few days away from the rat race and all these fanciful notions were coming into my head.
Is that what work did for me? Stopped me using my imagination and feeling close to nature? Had I unplugged somehow and it was all here waiting for me when I was ready to see it?
At that moment, I heard Grizelle say, ‘Each Stone is separate but connected. They tell me that all the Stones have felt movement beneath them. This Stone and the Thirteenth are in the most danger, as they are so close to the quarry. Kirsty, this is the first time the Stones have communicated with me, I think it’s because you’re here. Would you come over and touch the Stone?’
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I don’t know where the fear came from, especially when I’d been feeling so relaxed by the tree, but her request terrified me.
‘I don’t want to, I don’t think it would work for me anyhow…’
Angel came over and hugged me then took my arm, turning me away from the Stone. ‘It’s okay, Kirsty, it’s all okay. We’ll look at the other Stones as we’re out, and finish at the quarry. You might change your mind… But there’s no pressure.’
I sneaked a look at Grizelle, wondering if she was angry with me or disappointed, but she had walked ahead to the car. Within a few minutes we were on our way to the next Stone, which was set in the middle of a peaty bog three miles to the east. We had all walked these fields so many times over the years that we knew where to find the Stones without the need for maps or satellite navigation.
We parked in a layby and used the styles to cross a couple of fences to walk the mile or so to reach it. The cold wind rushed around us, as if hurrying us towards our destination. As we got closer, my heart was racing. It was one thing to inspect them, but what would we do if they had been moved? What could we do? I felt so exposed out here. This was so different from looking at the Stone in our garden. I suppose I hadn’t really thought about what we were doing, but suddenly it struck me that this could be dangerous.
Thankfully, and I sent up a prayer of thanks in spite of myself, the Stone looked untouched. About four feet tall, it sat in the middle of its field, high up on the land, overlooking the town like a sentinel. It was covered with the same spiral symbols as our Stone, but without cups cut into the top of it.
Angel and Grizelle stood with their hands on the Stone for a few minutes, eyes closed and looking peaceful. It was as if they were listening or waiting for something. I didn’t know what, and I didn’t want to i
nterrupt or interfere. But I was aware of the time passing and that we had another eleven stones still to check before I could get back to Gran’s book.
It was as if they had heard me, and both opened their eyes and left the Stone at the same time. As she walked past me, Grizelle commented, ‘We can’t hurry this, you know, but all seems well.’
The third and fourth Stones were only a few hundred yards from each other, on two rocky outcrops about five miles outside town. They were close to one of the stone bridges which linked the town with the rest of the world. Without them, it would have been isolated on its island with three rivers flowing all around it.
We parked the car close to the bridge and walked back along the road, finding the muddy track which led up to the rocks. It was hard going this time, with the wind and sleet pushing against us, and we were all breathless by the time we reached the summit. I think Grizelle was the fittest of the three of us, and she seemed confident walking in the countryside. I couldn’t keep my balance very well and landed on my backside a couple of times, blaming the wellies rather than my lack of coordination.
‘That’s what sitting at a desk five days a week and no exercise does for you,’ I scolded myself.
Like at the earlier Stones, Angel and Grizelle laid their hands on top and listened. I found an old rock to sit on, and watched and waited for them to finish. As I did so, I again felt a connection. It was as though the rock was trying to tell me something; like the feeling I’d experienced from the crystal in Angel’s home that first night.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, slowly letting my breath soften. A word was on the edge of my awareness, and I could sense it moving in and out before it receded. I thought about my gran but I couldn’t visualise her face. Instead, it was something different – a man’s voice, calling my name.