“It was all lies? But why?”
She watched her mother’s expression change from angry to hurt and she thought her heart might break.
“Mum, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hide things from you.…”
“No, Xanthe, you didn’t just not tell me things, you made things up. You lied to me. More than once, by the sound of it. Why would you not trust me? Don’t you know you can tell me anything? Surely, after everything that happened with Marcus, after all we’ve been through together … why did you feel you couldn’t talk to me?”
“I wanted to, so badly … I—I suppose I was trying to protect you.”
“Do you know how patronizing that sounds?”
“And, well, that you might think I’d lost my mind.”
“Anything would be better than Marcus.”
“I might have to remind you that you said that.”
There was a pause, a small silence filled with confusion and hurt on Flora’s side, guilt and regret on Xanthe’s.
“OK,” she said at last, switching on the car engine so that they could benefit from the heater, “however crazy this sounds, here goes.”
And so she told her. She told her how, since moving to Marlborough, the objects that sang to her had done so more clearly, more urgently, more persistently than ever before. She told her how the blind house in the garden sat on an intersection between two powerful ley lines. She told her how those three things combined to allow her to travel back in time. She told her how she had been called by the chatelaine to save Alice. She told her how she used the locket Flora herself had given her as a talisman to draw her back home again. She told her how she had found a book that held all the secrets of the Spinners, and that this what was she had discovered herself to be. And she told her about Benedict Fairfax and how she had unwittingly brought danger back to their home. To her.
Flora listened. At first she made small exclamations or put in questioning words, but as Xanthe’s story unfolded she fell completely silent, patiently hearing what her daughter had to say, waiting until at last she stopped and waited for a reaction.
“That is quite a lot to take in,” she said.
“I know.”
“Just to be clear, you’ve done this … time traveling … several times?”
“Quite a few.”
“And each time you spun a web of lies to cover your tracks.”
“Mum, I’m sorry, but…”
“Which is understandable, I suppose, given what you’ve told me. Even so, I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt; the fact that you didn’t want to share all of this with me in the first place.”
“I know it will take you time to forgive me, but right now we don’t have time to get stuck on that. We … I have to deal with Fairfax. And I need to keep you safe. Which is why I wanted to tell you now. It wasn’t fair to keep you in the dark any longer.”
“This man, you think he will do something here? To me, perhaps?”
“The fire, Mum. I think that was him.”
Flora gasped. “How can you know that? Even the firemen couldn’t figure out what started it.”
“That’s because people starting fires in another century is probably not something they’ve come across before.”
“Is that what you think happened?”
“I’m not sure. I hope not, but I have an awful feeling it might be. I am a long way from having all the answers, but it’s my best guess.”
“No wonder the poor firemen were stumped. It sounds so … huge.”
“It’s a terrifying idea. I need you to believe me.”
“Says the person who has been lying to me for months.”
“You know things sing to me, Mum. They always have.”
“It’s quite a step from sensing things in a solid here-and-now object to you being whisked off to another century.”
“It happened, all of it, just as I’ve told you.”
Flora opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. She looked away from Xanthe now, gazing out through the car window at the fading day. “You should have told me sooner. I might have been able to help. I am not, as you well know, completely useless.”
“Of course not! But, well, it’s not an easy story to believe.”
“You know I love you. I will always be on your side. If you need someone to talk to, someone professional…”
“You think I’m crazy? You think I’m, what, imagining all this stuff?”
“I didn’t say that.…”
“It’s OK. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d believe me either. Here, this might help a bit.” She reached down to her bag and pulled out Spinners. She handed it to Flora.
“This is it?” her mother asked. “The special book of how to time-travel?”
“This is it. Take a look.”
Flora set the heavy book on her lap and carefully opened it. She sifted through the old, dry pages.
“But, it’s all blank. There’s nothing written here at all.”
“The book’s magic, Mum. It only reveals its contents to some people. Watch.” She leaned over and pulled it a little nearer herself, turning it so that it was more directly facing her. She placed a finger at the top of the blank page and slowly ran it along. Instantly, flowing handwriting in dark brown ink appeared, following her finger.
Flora gasped, watching as the words continued to appear. They flashed up only for a few seconds, disappearing again as Xanthe’s finger moved on.
“I can hear them too,” she explained. “You won’t be able to, but I can hear someone whispering the story in my ear.”
“That’s … astonishing! What a marvelous thing!”
“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to show you this before. To tell you everything. You do believe me now, don’t you?” Xanthe lifted her hand from the page and pushed the book back to her mother. Immediately all the writing vanished.
Flora gave a small laugh. “It’s pretty convincing.… But it must be dangerous, love, surely? Traveling through time, pretending to be someone, something you’re not. What if you got into trouble, who would help you? What if you got, I dunno, stuck in a different time?”
“People do help me. Ordinary people, and other Spinners. And, well, this is something I have to do. Like when things sing to me. This is what all that has been about, all these years, do you see? Being here, in Marlborough, having the blind house, finding this, it’s all led me to where I need to be. To what I need to be doing. And now, now that Fairfax is threatening us … I have to go back again, Mum. He and the wedding dress are connected somehow, I’m pretty sure of that. I won’t know how, or what it is I have to do to stop him until I go there. Go then.”
“But, you said yourself he’s a ruthless person. What does he want from you?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it might be Spinners.”
“Would it really matter if you gave it to him? He might leave us alone then.”
“That is not an option. He can never have it. He’s not a good person, Mum. If he is able to see what’s inside the book, to read its secrets, well, it would make him more powerful. And he’s not a man to use that sort of power morally. Justly. Spinners are supposed to keep the order of things, to protect the way things are meant to be. But not him. He’s just in it for what he can get out of it.”
Flora rubbed her temples with her fingers and Xanthe saw her breath forming in front of her. Despite the taxi’s heater, the temperature was dropping. Outside the hares had long ago loped away to their grassy nests. The sky had bruised purple as dusk descended.
“Come on, Mum. Enough for now. Let’s get you home and in the warm.”
“There’s so much to take in, so much to process.”
“I know. We’ll talk more.” She switched on the headlights and fastened her seatbelt again. As she was about to turn the car around Flora put a hand on her arm.
“Thank you, for telling me.”
“Do you forgive me for lying to you?”
“I … unders
tand why you did. I’m just very glad that now I know everything. Now I can help you.”
“I am so happy to be able to share this with you, Mum.” She smiled in the half-light of the car interior. “It is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”
Flora smiled back. “It’s bloody fantastic!” she said, making them both laugh.
* * *
Once back at the shop all conversation about time travel had to be put on hold while Helga was still there. Xanthe and Flora had agreed they would talk more once she had gone the next day, and before she made her next trip back. Which would have to be soon. They decided to get as much of the cleaning and repairing of the shop and stairs done as possible and then prepare for Xanthe’s trip once Helga had left.
On the day of her planned departure, despite everyone’s efforts, there was still a deal of work to be done. Xanthe had forced herself to check the vintage clothing collection the day before and had been hugely relieved to find it, for the most part, undamaged. Smoke had seeped beneath the door so that everything smelled of it and would have to be washed. A slow job, but doable and not costly to fix. Some water had also got into the room, bringing down some of the ceiling plasterwork, which would eventually have to be replaced, but the room was still usable. Gerri had come over to inspect the stock and offer support, leaving with all the silk scarves, blouses, and dresses, which she volunteered to launder by hand at home. When Xanthe found a moment on her own with the clothes, she pulled out a few garments she considered workable for her next journey back in time, though it was hard to be specific, not knowing the exact date of origin of the dress.
Aside from the general washing of walls and cleaning grit and grime off surfaces, the downstairs floors would take a while to dry out. At least floorboards would recover more quickly than carpet. Xanthe and Flora decided to put up a CLOSED sign for a couple of days while they dried things out. They couldn’t risk having customers slip or trip over something, and the smell of smoke was rather off-putting.
Helga came into her own, lifting things that were too difficult for Flora, scrubbing floorboards and beams without complaint, and generally being an all-round good egg. Xanthe secretly wished she would stay longer; she seemed the ideal companion for her mother. Leaving her would have been so much easier knowing Helga was there. But her ticket to Australia was booked, so that was that. She would be leaving at teatime. Unexpectedly, she became quite tearful at the thought of leaving Pie. Xanthe did her best to reassure her that the dog was very welcome to stay and would be fine with them. In the end it was agreed that she and Liam would take their postponed walk up to the white horse that afternoon, so that Pie would not see her owner leaving.
Liam was happy with the new plan and picked Xanthe up in his cherished vintage red sports car at four o’clock. Now that the days had at last begun to properly lengthen, a cheerful March sun hung low in the sky as they sped out of Marlborough. On either side the sweeping fields were hemmed by hedges grown fuzzy with seasonal buds and new growth. There was no wind, but a freshness to the day that balanced the sweetness of that light, warning that winter had not yet departed the landscape, frosts were still likely, and icy mornings would catch out unwary travelers and nascent crops. In the open-topped car, Xanthe sat with Pie held firmly on her lap. The little dog’s ears streamed behind her in the wind as she poked her nose up in the air. Liam laughed at her.
“She’s definitely a classic car enthusiast. It’s obvious,” he said, steering the car easily along the narrow, winding road.
Xanthe’s hair fought against the loose plait she had worked it into. She put on sunglasses, leaning back against the worn leather of the seat, enjoying the feel of freedom and speed that came with the open-top car.
“It’s just like it is in the movies,” she said. “Though possibly colder. I’m not sure we live in the right country for soft-tops.”
He grinned. “I know a guy could convert your taxi. Give you a roll-back lid on the thing, what d’you reckon?”
“You keep your hands off my cab! I love her as she is, thank you very much. No, any time I want to feel like a film star I’ll give you a call.” She grinned.
The road followed the incline of the landscape until they reached the top of the broad hill above the town. The little car park was empty, so that once they had stopped Pie was allowed to hop out and trot around, sniffing enthusiastically at everything. After a short struggle to put the roof up—during which Xanthe made strong points in favor of her own vehicle—they left the car and followed the path up onto the chalk hill figure. As always, being close to the ancient horse made her feel even more strongly connected to the past. What times the great steed had witnessed from its lofty viewpoint. What events. Civil war. The fall of one royal house and the rise of another. The invention of the railway system. The birth of the internal combustion engine. And still it stood, steady and proud, the watcher on the mountain.
As they reached the part of the path that passed close to the giant horse’s head, she stopped, not wanting to move away from it. Visitors were discouraged from treading too near the figure itself to protect it from eroding footsteps. There were many occasions when walking there alone that Xanthe had crept onto the hallowed chalk, to place her hand on the ancient gouges, to feel the mythical heartbeat of the animal. But today was not about her. She turned to look at Liam and was both alarmed and surprised to feel her heart respond to him. Was she really ready for that? She did not entirely trust her feelings yet, knowing herself to be vulnerable after Samuel.
Liam became aware he was being stared at. He smiled at her and took her hand.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“That’s a low offer.”
“Mates’ rates.” When she said nothing he squeezed her hand. “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”
“You mean aside from me and my mum nearly being turned to toast in our own home?”
“Aside from that,” he said and nodded.
“It’s complicated.” She felt his hand on hers tense and saw at once how she had carelessly used an expression that seemed always to point to affairs of the heart. “I mean, I’ve got lots to think about, to do with work, and Mum, and the business, and the band…”
The look he gave her suggested he wasn’t convinced by this answer.
“I’m going to have to go away for a couple of days,” she explained, “and the timing is really bad. My friend in Milton Keynes, you remember?”
“The one with boyfriend trouble? I thought that was sorted out last time you went.”
“It’s … ongoing. Thing is, I promised I’d go before the fire. She wouldn’t ask if she wasn’t really desperate.”
“Well, if you’ve got to go…”
She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and walked on. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s walk the loop of the hill and get home before the sun disappears. Gets cold quickly up here this time of year.”
“Could you perhaps slow down a bit?” He struggled to match her pace as she strode on and his awkward gait caused her to smile despite herself. He stumbled, for a moment almost toppling off the ridge and threatening to pitch down the steep slope. Instinctively she grabbed his arm. He righted himself, smiling ruefully. “Where would I be without you?” he asked.
“At the bottom of the hill?”
“With only myself to blame. But, seeing as I am still up here, and you are up here too…” He pulled her gently into a warm hug and murmured into her hair. “Lovely girl. You know I only want to help.”
“I know,” she said, glad to be with him, enjoying the comfort of the moment. Pie, with little respect for anyone’s feelings, chose that instant and that spot on the path to take a long, steaming pee.
Liam laughed loudly. “Upstaged by a pooch. OK, I give up.” He held up his hands.
Xanthe turned on her heel. “And she’s quick too,” she called over her shoulder. “Last one back to the car buys the beers!”
* * *
They dro
ve home in companionable silence, Liam having closed the roof of the car. Pie curled up on Xanthe’s lap, too tired to look out of the window at the dusk-covered landscape as they headed back to Marlborough. They returned to Liam’s yard to safely park the car, picked up some beers from the supermarket—paid for by Liam, who had stood no chance of catching up to the others after a slow start—and went back to the shop. They found the stairs sufficiently repaired to be usable, most of the clearing done, and Flora happily sitting upstairs in the living room, surrounded by odd bits of stock that had got shifted during the cleanup.
“You three look healthy,” she said, bracing herself as Pie flew onto her lap. “All that fresh air must have done you good.” She reached up and gave her daughter’s hand a squeeze and the two exchanged conspiratorial glances. Xanthe recognized excitement in her mother’s expression and was heartened to think that in the time she had had to mull over all that she had shared with her about being a Spinner, her reaction was still one of wonder, first and foremost. It meant so much to be able to share everything with her at last.
“We bring beer,” Liam told her, holding up six bottles of Henge Ale.
“Did Helga get away OK?” Xanthe asked, taking off her jacket and dropping it over the back of a chair.
“Just about. We were so engrossed in our mission to get the place livable again we almost forgot the time. Will you miss your mistress, little Piecrust?” she asked the dog, stroking its ears.
“She’ll be fine with us,” said Xanthe. “Oooh, where did these prints come from?” She stooped to examine a small collection of pictures stacked against the wall.
“Helga found them. She said they were in the hallway, which they must have been because they are quite sooty and a bit wet. Most of them are glazed, luckily, so they escaped too much damage. Strange thing is I have no recollection of them being there before the fire, do you?”
Xanthe shook her head. “We never left things there. Perhaps they were hidden in a corner of the shop and the firemen moved them.”
“Well, either way we didn’t buy them. They must have been in the original stock, most likely stuff old Mr. Morris bought in a job lot. The majority are hunting, shooting, or fishing prints. Quite saleable but nothing special. One or two look like water colors, though. Victorian, I think.” She pointed at the stack. “The one at the back looks like where you went to for the auction.”
The Garden of Promises and Lies Page 9