Black Valley

by Williams, Charlotte

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well, his work is about the rape and pillage of an entire community. The mining community in the South Wales valleys, to be precise.’ Dresler sounded as if he was quoting from one of Morris’s letters. ‘Until that community is properly compensated for the loss of their jobs and homes, he says, he doesn’t want anything to do with the museum, the Welsh Assembly, the British government, the media, or anyone at all from the art world.’

  Jess thought for a moment. ‘But he himself is being paid quite a lot for these paintings, isn’t he? How does he square that with his conscience?’

  Dresler shrugged. ‘Well, he’s got to live on something. He needs the money so that he can continue painting. He feels that’s an acceptable compromise, and I must say, I agree with him.’

  ‘I see your point.’ Jess paused. She could sense this was a touchy subject. ‘But Blake Thomas is busy championing Morris’s work, isn’t he? From what you told me, he’s trying to sell the paintings to investment bankers and hedge fund managers, as well as public bodies like museums.’ Jess chose her words with care. ‘That seems a bit of a paradox, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Of course. And Morris is very unhappy about it. He regards the bankers as the dregs of society. Wrecking the economy to fill their own pockets. Buying up contemporary art that they don’t like or understand, just to prove they’ve still got souls.’ His voice rose slightly. ‘The rich are behaving almost as they did in medieval times, when they bought indulgences to cancel out their sins. Only now the indulgences take the form of art. And the worst thing is, the few serious artists that continue to do proper work either get ignored or lumped in with the charlatans. And no one dares utter a peep.’ He paused. ‘Morris is thinking of staging a protest about the situation.’

  ‘Really? What sort of protest?’

  ‘He won’t say.’ Jess glanced over at Dresler. He looked as if he was about to continue, then checked himself. ‘But he’s definitely got something up his sleeve. We’ll find out soon enough what it is.’

  By now they had turned off the main road, and were winding their way towards Tyrog Tal, along an unlit lane. The wind had got up, and it had started to rain. As they crawled along, looking for a signpost, Jess began to feel apprehensive. Staying at a secluded hotel among ancient ruins in a remote valley had seemed an exciting proposition by day; now, as night fell, she became aware of just how isolated it was.

  They fell silent again as they peered out into the darkness. Dense trees obscured the sides of the road, clustering around them so that it was difficult to tell what lay ahead. Eventually, they saw the signpost and turned into a smaller unmade road, bumping along it until, finally, they reached a clearing. In front of them was a rickety building with a faint light over the door. To the side of that was a high medieval tower made of rough grey stone. Beside it a colonnade of high arches reared up, sections of it gouged out as if a malevolent giant had taken an axe to it that very day.

  ‘My God. Look at that.’ Dresler was impressed.

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Jess parked the car to one side of the drive. There didn’t seem to be a car park. In fact, there was only one other car to be seen anywhere near the hotel, a battered four-wheel drive that probably belonged to the owners.

  They got out of the car, took out their bags, and ran towards the hotel, shielding themselves as best they could from the wind and rain. The door to the rickety porch was open. They went in, walked down a few steep steps into the main building, and found themselves in a large, vaulted room with flagstones on the floor, a small bar in one corner, and several oak barrels against the wall. There was no one to be seen.

  Jess put her bag down on the floor and looked at her watch. It was only seven thirty. It wasn’t as if they were arriving late. Where was everyone? This wasn’t the welcome she’d envisaged.

  Dresler didn’t seem put out. Instead, he was wandering round the room, inspecting the ceiling and the flagstones on the floor.

  Eventually, an elderly man appeared, checked their booking, gave them a key to their room, and pointed out the way to it, up a spiral staircase. There were eight bedrooms in the tower, he told them; theirs was at the very top.

  12

  They walked up the awkward, narrow staircase, past several heavy wooden doors until they came to the last one. When Jess put the key in the lock, it stuck, and both of them had to fiddle with it until it opened. The door led into a dark, low-ceilinged room with a window that looked out over the monastery. The curtains weren’t drawn, and the looming shapes of the ruined arches around the tower were grey against the black of the night sky. There was a four-poster bed with what looked like a rather lumpy mattress on it, and a thick velvet counterpane laid over it, rather worn in places. On a chest of drawers in one corner stood a china jug and washbowl, and Jess noticed that under the bed there was an old-fashioned chamber pot. A necessity, since the bathroom was four floors down.

  Despite the romantic setting, she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Obviously, in a medieval tower like this, it would have been difficult to add an en suite to every bedroom, but she had at least expected a washbasin and running water in the room. She walked over to the bed and inspected it, prodding the mattress and shaking the curtains, which were covered in dust. As she did, a dead spider fell out on the floor.

  She sat down on the bed, suddenly exhausted. She was annoyed with herself for not thinking the weekend through properly. It would have been nice to go somewhere more luxurious, somewhere they could lie in the bath and chat, or pad about in dressing gowns, or call for room service so they could eat their breakfast in bed. This was all a bit too spartan for her liking. And let alone being modernized, the place didn’t appear to have been properly cleaned since the twelfth century.

  Dresler, however, seemed to have no such qualms. He walked straight over to the window, peering out at the grounds of the priory, fascinated by the place. Then he walked over to the bed, sat down beside her, and enveloped her in a hug.

  ‘This is perfect, Jess. Absolutely wonderful. Well done.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. I was hoping for a few more mod cons.’

  ‘Nonsense. We’ll manage fine.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘It’ll be nice and cosy.’

  Jess thought of saying that weeing into a chamber pot in the middle of the night was a bit too cosy for her liking, but she didn’t.

  They started to kiss, sitting there on the bed side by side, and before long they were lying flat out on it, their bodies pressed together, their hands inside each other’s clothing.

  ‘This is going to be great,’ Dresler murmured. ‘Making love in a tower. In a four-poster bed.’

  ‘With a lumpy mattress,’ Jess murmured back.

  ‘And the ghosts of the monks wandering about outside. We’ll leave the curtains open, so they can look in on us.’

  ‘You pervert.’

  He laughed and they rolled over, still kissing. She put her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, feeling the warmth of his skin against them. Her skirt rode up over her thighs, and his hands followed it.

  ‘I’ve ordered dinner,’ she said, pulling away. ‘We’d better go down and eat.’

  He brought his hands up to her waist, then ran them over her breasts, feeling the swell of them through her sweater.

  ‘OK. OK.’ He sat up suddenly, as if willing himself to do so. ‘You’re right. Let’s eat, and drink, and then have an early night.’

  She lay for a moment longer on the bed looking up at him. The light was behind him, silvering the edges of his curly hair like a halo. In his quick movements and slender frame, she saw something of the adolescent that he must once have been. He really is a lovely man, she thought. The lumpy mattress, and the dead spider, didn’t matter any more. Soon, she would be tucked up beside him, and they’d have a whole night together, and they’d be able to lie there undisturbed, until the sun peeped through the latticed window . . .

  ‘A very early night,’ she said.
‘Very early indeed.’

  He laughed, and she sat up beside him. Then they got up and began to ready themselves for dinner. Jess unpacked her make-up bag, though there wasn’t much she could do with the contents in the half-light, other than apply some lipstick and comb her hair. Dresler took off his jacket and pulled on a thick sweater – it was chilly in the hotel – and then they were ready to go downstairs.

  They ate in a large vaulted dining room that led off the bar. There seemed to be no other guests, and only the one old man in attendance. However, a fire had been lit for them, and a table laid beside it, so they were comfortable enough. Their meal was nothing to write home about, but it was good, home-cooked food, and they ate it with relish. The wine list was dull, so instead they drank locally brewed real ale, which proved delicious – a pale golden colour with a bittersweet tang of hops – and surprisingly strong. By the time they had finished their meal, they were both feeling lightheaded and in need of fresh air, so they decided to take a quick stroll before bed.

  Outside, the wind had dropped, the rain had ceased, and the stars had come out. There was a bright sliver of moon above them, hanging like a lantern in the sky. They linked arms and walked together down through the colonnade, the high arches looming up at them from either side. This must have been the aisle, thought Jess, and for a moment, she saw herself and Dresler as the bride and groom walking through the ruined chapel, not to the altar, which had long since vanished, but to the great arched window that gave on to the fields and wooded hills of the valley beyond. It was an image that thrilled and intrigued her; this was no marriage, it seemed to say – all that was finished now, like the crumbling walls around them – but a new rite of passage, towards an unknowable yet tangible kind of freedom that she would taste side by side, as equals, with another human being. It was within her grasp now, for the first time in her life.

  When they came to the end of the colonnade, they stood in front of the great arch, and Dresler took her in his arms and kissed her. It was a long, slow kiss, and during it, Jess opened her eyes and looked up at the stars above, framed by the arch. She could see Orion’s Belt, the Plough, and the North Star, Polaris. Her father had taught her to recognize them when she was a child. A pale, shimmering band of cloud ran right across the night sky, from one arc of the firmament to the other. Her heart leapt in excitement: the Milky Way. It was hardly ever visible here in Wales, yet here it was, streaking across the sky, more bright, more glorious, than any stained glass window that could have been erected there in the past. It seemed like an omen, a propitious one, that should be heeded right away.

  ‘It’s a good omen that we’re here together. In this place.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Dresler paused. ‘I was just thinking the same thing. Here we are, the two of us, standing at the altar in the dead of night, looking out on the world outside, instead of being cooped up in a church.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So this is a kind of ritual.’

  ‘That’s right. To bless our . . .’

  ‘Union.’

  ‘Yes. For the future.’

  They kissed again. Dresler pushed his hands inside her coat, running them over her breasts. As he did, she imagined that she felt the stirring of her milk glands, letting the fluid down. It was a strange yet familiar feeling, one that she remembered from when she’d fed her babies. She stared up at the sky. She wondered if it really was the Milky Way that she could see above her, or just a streak of cloud. Whichever it was, she lost herself in it, and for a brief moment, her self stopped its clamouring and instead, with a sigh of relief, she became part of the endless infinity of the galaxy above.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, hugging her close. ‘Let’s get back into the warm. It’s freezing out here.’

  They set off down the aisle again, walking quickly towards the hotel. She felt a little dizzy, after her brief communion with the stars.

  They walked past the car park. It was empty. It seemed that, apart from the faithful retainer, they were indeed the only people in the hotel that night.

  Once they were inside, it didn’t take them long to get to bed. They took turns to go to the bathroom, which was even more dilapidated than their bedroom, and then snuggled down together. Outside, an owl screeched. The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the bed, just as the streetlight had done on their first tryst together. Jess thought of Dresler holding her tight, the two of them kissing by the altar, under the stars, and couldn’t help smiling to herself.

  They made love, clutching at the covers to keep warm, and then lay for a moment in each other’s arms. The bed felt slightly damp, and the mattress was as uncomfortable as she’d feared, but it didn’t seem to matter. Within minutes, she was falling asleep, her head nestled against Dresler’s shoulder, listening to the soft beat of his heart, and the gentle rustling of the trees outside the window.

  13

  Next morning, they slept late, and were woken by the sun peeping in through the ivy-clad window. The rain had cleared, the wind had dropped, and the sky was a bright, clear blue. When Jess saw it, she jumped out of bed, pulled the curtains open, and leaned out of the window. From the eyrie of the tower, she could see a herd of cattle grazing among the ruins of the monastery, wandering up and down the aisle, their heads bowed. Beyond was the green haze of wooded valleys and hills rising up into the mountains. She couldn’t wait to be out there.

  The room was cold, so they hurried to dress and get downstairs into the warm. The dining room was still deserted, as it had been the night before, but once again the fire was lit. They ate a good, solid breakfast, served by the faithful retainer, and caught a glimpse of the cook, a middle-aged woman, scurrying about in the kitchen, but otherwise there was no sign of anyone. Obviously, the cold weather was keeping people away – not to mention the spartan arrangements in the hotel.

  After they’d finished breakfast, Jess stepped outside for a moment of privacy to call the girls on her mobile. Rose sounded happily preoccupied with the prospect of the boat trip, Nella sleepy and not keen to chat, so she kept the calls short.

  Just as she was about to go back into the hotel and get ready for the day, a sleek black car pulled up. A man got out. He was dark-haired, and stylishly dressed, in jeans and a navy blue peacoat. As he walked towards her, she recognized him. It was Blake Thomas.

  As he approached, she saw, with a shock, that he looked terrible. There was no trace of the confident alpha male Jess had seen at the launch. His hair was dishevelled, his face pale with a waxy texture, and there were beads of sweat on his upper lip.

  ‘Dr Mayhew.’ He came up to her and put out his hand. She shook it. The palm was slightly damp, and she could feel that it was trembling. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Blake Thomas, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. As I said, I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just that . . .’ A muscle below his eye twitched. ‘My sister-in-law, Elinor, has gone missing. We’re terribly worried about her. Me and Isobel.’

  Jess felt a pang of anxiety. What was Blake Thomas doing here, and why was he looking for Elinor?

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Mr Thomas, but I don’t know where she is, either.’

  At that point, Dresler came out of the hotel looking for Jess. When he saw Blake, he did a double take.

  ‘Blake, old man.’ He noted Blake’s wild appearance. ‘Are you OK?’

  His tone was remarkably friendly, thought Jess, considering he’d told her how much he detested the man.

  ‘No. I’m not OK at all. I’m having a bloody awful time.’ Blake’s voice rose. ‘The police have been on my back. I told them where I was when it happened, but they wouldn’t believe me, because, you see, the CCTV at the service station up there, well, it wasn’t working that day, and . . .’

  His words came out in a rush. Neither Jess nor Dresler could follow what he was saying.

  ‘. . . So I’ve got to find Elinor, you see, because she knows I was with h
er, and if I don’t, well, they’re going to take me in again and . . .’

  So he wasn’t terribly worried about Elinor, thought Jess. He was terribly worried about himself.

  ‘Calm down.’ Dresler leaned forward and patted Blake’s shoulder.

  Blake shrank away from his touch. Then he covered his face with his hands. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ His voice was shaking. ‘This is a nightmare. I’ve got to find her, talk to her. That’s all I ask. I won’t tell anyone what happened. I just need to see her, explain . . .’

  He began to sob.

  Jess and Dresler looked at each other in consternation.

  Jess scrabbled in her bag and brought out a tissue. ‘Here,’ she said, offering it to him.

  ‘You know where she is, don’t you?’ He took the tissue, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. ‘Just tell me, please.’

  ‘I honestly don’t,’ Jess said. In literal terms, that was true. Elinor had said she was going to Cwm Du, but she hadn’t specified exactly where.

  ‘You’ve got to tell me.’ He turned his gaze on her. His eyes were a deep brown, the lashes wet with tears. ‘Otherwise I don’t know what’s going to happen.’

  Jess was alarmed, but she tried not to show it. ‘Look, as I said to your wife, if Elinor gets in touch with me, I’ll ask her to contact you.’ She paused. ‘By the way, how did you know I was here?’

  Blake looked at Dresler. ‘You told me, didn’t you?’

  Dresler nodded. He looked faintly embarrassed. ‘I think I did mention it, yes.’

  Jess was taken aback. From what Dresler had said, he and Blake weren’t on good terms. Not good enough to be discussing where he was planning to spend the weekend, anyway, and who with. They were obviously a great deal more tied up together than she’d realized.

  ‘Look.’ Dresler did his best to take control of the situation. ‘You’re upset, Blake. You’re not thinking straight. Go home to Isobel. And if you’re worried about Elinor, go to the police.’