Harley found his voice.
“What the hell, hen?!”
Annie moved toward her, her expression full of concern. “Are you all right? Come and sit down.”
Flora started to get up. “Xanthe, love, what on earth has happened? I thought you were … what are you doing here? You’re covered in … what happened?” she repeated.
She went to her mother and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“It’s OK, I’m fine. Honestly. This is just … brick dust.”
“What?” Flora remained puzzled.
Annie pulled out a chair. “You look a bit shaken. Why don’t you sit down and tell us what’s happened?”
When Xanthe shook her head Harley formed a one-word question, “Fairfax?”
“Yes. And, something more. Mum, I need to talk to you. Actually, I need to show you something.”
“We were just about to eat. Is it really that urgent?” Flora wanted to know, looking from Harley to Xanthe and back again.
“Well, lassie?” Harley put down his fork at last.
“Mum, I’m really sorry to drag you away from your meal, but I need you to come home with me. Now.”
“But Annie’s cooked supper.…”
Harley put in, “Don’t worry about that. We’ll do this another day. You should go with Xanthe,” he insisted.
Flora noticed the look he gave her daughter. “Annie, I’m so sorry.…”
Annie sat down again, replacing the lid on the casserole pot in the middle of the table. “It looks like Xanthe needs you, Flora. Don’t worry about supper. We’ll do it another time.”
“You are so sweet, after all the trouble you’ve gone to.…”
“It’s stew, really, it wasn’t any trouble. And Harley will happily eat your share.”
“Leave it to me.” Harley nodded seriously.
Flora got up. “Well, I’m sorry, but I need the loo before we set off. Is that OK with you?”
“Of course it is, Mum. I’m sorry … I’ll explain everything when we get home.”
While Annie helped Flora to negotiate the cluttered hallway that led to the bathroom, Harley spoke to Xanthe in an urgent stage whisper.
“Did you find him, way back when, you know … the time you traveled to. Was the bastard lying in wait for ye?”
“No, well, yes, but I had to come back.”
“What? Why?”
With a sigh she explained, as quickly as she could. “Pie traveled back with me. She got out of the house and into the blind house just as I was spinning … I had to bring her home.”
“Wait, she went and came back? No problems?”
“None that I could see. She was a bit tired, but other than that…”
“So, you could take someone with you!?”
“Yes!”
“Lassie, this is huge!”
“I know, which is another reason I’m here. I want to show Mum, to take her.”
“What, right now?”
“I need her to see, just for a moment. I’ll bring her straight back. I have a plan, and I need more things from here for it to work. More money too, really. Luckily, Mistress Flyte will help me.…”
“The old woman from before? But…”
“I can’t explain it all, there isn’t time. I’ve got to go back again, but … Harley, Fairfax is still trying to do things now, in my time. At the shop … he nearly killed me this time.”
“What?!”
“He brought the chimney down. The whole thing. If I hadn’t glanced up…”
“Christ on a bike!”
“I need to explain more to Mum. I don’t want to frighten her, but, oh, Harley, I want to show her. Can you understand that?”
“Don’t you think she believes you already?”
“Yes, but … I need to show her. I want her to feel it, to know what it is I feel. And maybe it will make her take the threat of Fairfax seriously too.”
“I should imagine chunks of her house falling into her garden might do that.… Look, hen, the man’s proving to be more bloody dangerous by the minute. If you’re able to take someone with you, why not take Liam?”
“Liam?”
“You know I’d give my left … ear to hop through the centuries with you. Nothing would be more fan-bloody-tastic, but that would mean a lot of lies to the woman I love, and I cannae do that. But Liam, he’s fancy free, apart from yourself. Take him with you this time. Let him help you. He’d look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
“But why tackle a man like Fairfax on your own when you don’t have to? I am not happy about you facing him alone, hen, I’ll tell you that now.”
“I can’t stop him from here, you know that. I’m going to take his astrolabe away from him. Destroy it.”
“Oh, and you think he won’t be expecting you to do that?”
Voices in the hallway told them the two women were on their way back. Harley gripped Xanthe’s shoulder. “Hen, will you not tell Liam?”
“No. It’s too much. Too soon. It’s not an easy thing to share with someone, you know?”
“It’s too damn dangerous to do it on your own.”
“Mistress Flyte will help me. And I’ve thought about how to keep myself safe. I’ll be OK.…”
“Right,” Flora came back into the room, “I’m all yours, love,” she said to Xanthe.
As they were leaving Harley tried one last time. Standing close he hissed into her ear, “Promise me you’ll at least consider my suggestion.”
She squeezed his hand. “OK, I’ll think about it. But first, I need to show Mum. OK?”
“Aye, fair enough.”
As they stepped out onto the chilly high street Flora paused to brush some of the dust off Xanthe.
“Where did this stuff come from?” she asked.
“I’ll explain, but please can we wait until we get home?” As she spoke she was unable to stop herself glancing up and down the street. It was a small gesture, but an anxious one, and it was not lost on her mother. After that they walked the short distance home in tense silence. As they climbed the patched stairway Pie could be heard squeaking and scrabbling.
“Oh, poor little thing, did you miss us?” Flora opened the door to the sitting room.
“Leave her in there, Mum. And leave your coat on. I need you to come outside. I need to show you two things.” She nipped into the kitchen and fetched a torch and then led her mother downstairs.
When Xanthe opened the back door she felt the sharpness of the night air and that the temperature had dropped noticeably, threatening a frost. When Flora went to step out into the garden Xanthe stopped her, switching on the torch and pointing its beam on the rubble on the lawn.
“What is that?” Flora asked.
“Our chimney.”
“What? But how…?” Instinctively Flora looked up, searching the dark sky for the silhouette of the chimney stack that should have been there but wasn’t.
“The dust, the stuff I was covered in,” Xanthe explained. “That lot missed me by inches, and only because I sensed something and stepped back.”
Flora looked at her again now. Even in the low light of the garden with its borrowed illumination from street lamps beyond the boundary wall, Xanthe could see the shock on her face.
“You could have been killed,” her mother whispered, hardly daring to form the words.
“He means business, Mum. That’s what I need you to understand. Come on, watch your step, there are broken bricks everywhere.”
She led Flora over to the blind house.
“I have to tell you, love, it doesn’t look much like a time machine. Just a damp old stone shed.”
“Stand here a minute.” She stepped over to where she had tucked her bag and took the wedding dress out of it. Immediately it began to set up its song and the fabric felt hot in her cold hands. She showed it to Flora. “This is our ticket, Mum. Are you ready for this?”
“I … am not entirely sure what you’re asking
me to do?”
“If we step in there together, with this, if you hold onto me, I will show you. I’ll show you how it works. What I do.”
“You mean … we’ll travel back in time? Together? Right now?” Again she looked skeptically at the blind house. “In that?”
“The blind house doesn’t go anywhere. Just us.”
“And where … when will we end up?”
“I don’t know the exact date but I’m thinking it’s around 1815. I didn’t know I could take someone with me, but Pie followed me earlier.”
“Pie?”
“Yes, and she was fine. I brought her back and, well, you’ve seen her. She’s OK. I can take you, Mum. I can show you. If you want?”
Flora swallowed hard, processing what she was being told, finally facing the possibility that she might just be about to do the impossible. “Well,” she said at last, “I always did like Jane Austen.”
Xanthe smiled, yet again impressed by her mother’s bravery.
“It’ll be OK, Mum. Promise. If that means anything anymore.”
Flora threw her a look as she stick-stepped past her through the door of the blind house. “Move to a small town in the country, they said. It’ll be a quiet life with no drama, they said.…”
Once inside Xanthe switched off the torch. She had not considered how frightening the dark, musty interior might be for her mother. She reminded herself that only she could hear the high notes of the singing wedding dress and the myriad clamoring voices that now called to her. She squeezed Flora’s hand, pulling her closer, recalling what Mistress Flyte had said about the risk of a non-Spinner being set adrift while making the journey through time. “Hold on tight to me, Mum, OK? Whatever you hear, whatever you feel, don’t let go. That’s really important, OK?”
“Will there be flashing lights, or something … I don’t know what?”
“Nothing really, not for you. You might feel a bit dizzy.” As she spoke she felt her mother pressing closer to her, her grip on her hand tightening. The voices only she could hear grew louder as with her free hand she held up the wedding gown, so that some of the tiny pearl buttons on its bodice were caught by a slice of light that fell through the still open door.
“What was that?” Flora asked.
“What? What can you hear, Mum?” She wondered if some of the voices, some of those lost and desperate souls, would be able to make Flora hear them too. Their entreaties were now so loud in her own head she found it hard to make out what her mother was saying to her.
“Outside,” Flora explained. “I thought I heard someone call your name.”
“It’s OK. Just hold my hand,” Xanthe repeated as she began to feel the now familiar giddiness that signaled the start of her journey. She was aware of her mother’s breath against her cheek as she seemed to fall forward toward her and then the transformation was underway and together they tumbled through time.
10
The first thing that struck her when they completed their journey was the brightness of the light. So often she had materialized somewhere dark, such as a loft or a cellar hoard house, but this time as her surroundings came into focus she found she was outside, in strong sunshine, in a large walled garden. She was kneeling on the grass, not because of her own unsteadiness, but because of Flora, whose hand she still held, and who was slumped on the ground beside her.
“Mum! Mum?” She was relieved when her mother moaned and then opened her eyes. She slipped an arm around Flora’s waist to steady her and help her to her feet. “Come on, up you get. Take it slowly. You’re bound to feel a bit woozy.”
“My sticks…?”
Xanthe cursed herself for not ensuring the essential crutches had traveled with them. She glanced around to make sure they were unobserved and then spoke gently to her mother.
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to walk anywhere. We’re going straight back. I just need you to look.” She helped her mother stand steady and gave her a moment to draw breath. “Take a look, Mum. It’s beautiful.”
And it was. They could see the upper floors of the great house beyond the wall of the garden. It was definitely Corsham Hall. The place where the wedding dress had found Xanthe. The place where she had had her vision of the pretty, dark-haired girl among the roses. The place where she would return again very soon, on her next trip, once she had helped her mother understand. Watching Flora take in her surroundings and make sense of them was like watching a child discover its first rainbow. There was so much to process: the fact that they were in an entirely different place to the one where they had stood only moments before, the fact that this pointed to everything her daughter had told her being true; and the sheer loveliness of the exquisite garden beneath the warm summer sun.
At last Flora found her voice. “Xanthe, love, it’s all completely wonderful.”
“This is where I get to say I told you so.” She grinned, elated at finally being able to share the astonishing truth of what she could do, enjoying her mother’s obvious delight. “And just in case you were in any doubt about the era, take a look over there.” She pointed to the far end of the garden where there was a wrought-iron gate in the wall. Through the gate a stretch of the long, curving driveway to the main house was visible, and along it, at that moment, came an elegant carriage pulled by four smartly turned-out chestnut horses.
Flora gasped at the sight of it. “Look at that! The horses, the coach … look at the footman clinging to the back! Oh, I so want to go and see who gets out of it.”
“And to do that we would have to run the risk of someone seeing us. No, sorry, Mum. We have to go home now.”
“So soon? But that house … imagine all the treasures!”
“Here, hold on to me, like before. Don’t let go. Not for a second, OK?”
“But, we’re not in the blind house. And … you don’t have the wedding dress. How will it work?”
“I told you, we use the locket you gave me, remember?” She fished it out from under her dress. “Think of home, Mum,” she said and then closed her eyes, ignoring the whispers that filled her ears as the magic worked again, carrying them back to their own time and place.
She was not surprised that her mother found the return journey more difficult than the outward one. She knelt beside her on the floor of the blind house, holding her close, whispering reassurances to her, giving her time to adjust and recover. What did surprise her, however, was the sharp light dancing against the dusty stone walls. Surely they had left the sunshine behind and returned to nighttime? There should be no light, save for that borrowed from the street lamps some way off. Confused, she blinked, shielding her eyes against the glare. Her heart lurched as she realized what it was. Torchlight. Someone had stepped into the blind house and picked up her torch. And that someone was still there.
“Hey!” she said, turning her face away. “Can you point that thing somewhere else?”
There was a mumbled apology, which was still sufficient for Xanthe to be able to recognize the speaker as they retrained the beam of light onto the floor.
“Harley?” She peered forward, her eyes recovering their night sight so that she could make out Liam standing next to him.
Beside her, Flora was regaining her wits. “Liam? Harley? Why are there suddenly so many people in our shed?”
Xanthe tried to process what their presence meant.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
“Oh, a wee while,” Harley replied.
“How much did you hear?”
“Oh, enough,” he said, glancing sideways at a clearly stunned Liam, who at last found his voice.
“No, not enough. Not nearly enough. What the fuck just happened?”
Flora retrieved her sticks from the gritty floor and casually stick-stepped her way past the shocked spectators.
“It’s perfectly simple, Liam,” she said. “Xanthe and I just did a spot of time traveling.”
“And I’m green with envy, hen,” Harley put in with a s
mile, ignoring Liam’s open-jawed expression, “I don’t mind admitting.”
“Xanthe…?” Liam put his hand on her arm.
She turned to Harley. “What are you doing here? You knew what I was going to do, that I was going to show Mum…”
“I hoped you’d change your mind about telling Liam. That you’d decide it would be better, safer to have some help.”
“Help with what?” Liam wanted to know.
“Wait a minute…” Flora frowned. “Harley, you knew about this?”
Xanthe leapt to his defense. “Harley understood about ley lines, about the Spinners…”
“Before you told me anything you told him everything?”
Liam was becoming exasperated. “Everything being what?”
“But it was you I showed, Mum. You’re the one I shared it with. Please tell me you understand,” she said, brushing a wayward hair from her mother’s eyes.
Flora gave a small sigh. “How can I not, after what we’ve just done, after where you’ve just taken me.” She smiled then, the connection between them reinforced.
Harley addressed Flora. “You are a lucky woman. I’m jealous as hell, Flora, I don’t mind telling ye.”
“I’m glad you were able to help Xanthe. I’m glad she wasn’t doing it all on her own.” As she spoke, Flora teetered, catching hold of Harley’s arm to steady herself.
“Mum? Are you feeling OK?”
“Just a little wobbly. A small price to pay for such an experience!”
Liam had had enough. “Right, just stop! OK? None of this is making any sense. The only thing I’m sure of is that everyone else here knows more about what the hell is going on than I do. Will you please tell me, before I lose my mind, where did you just go and how, in the name of all that’s bloody sensible, did you go there?”
Xanthe took his hand and stepped toward the entrance. “Come on, let’s go somewhere we’re not all standing on each other’s toes, shall we?”
“Aye,” said Harley, hauling the door open a little wider, “and I for one could do with a drink.”
The Garden of Promises and Lies Page 13