by Lu Hersey
As I stare down, I notice a dark shadow moving below us. It’s getting closer, snaking up from the depths where the shipwreck lies, heading straight for us. I’m almost paralysed with fear. Mamwyn doesn’t move from my side. I sense she’s waiting for the creature to reach us. As the shadow comes into focus, my heart is hammering. Conger eel. I’ve heard tales of them attacking divers. Its dark grey skin glistens like wet slate. It must be three metres long, with a girth as big as my waist. I see the sharp, backward-pointing teeth in its ugly open mouth as it gets close, and feel the movement in the water as it pushes in between us. I watch in horror as it coils and twists its way round Mamwyn, moving fast as lightning.
It takes a moment to realize. The eel isn’t attacking her. It’s curious. The way it snakes around her body is almost like a form of greeting. All at once, I see the dark glimmer of intelligence in its eyes as it looks straight at me. I try to suppress my terror as it starts coiling around me, checking me out, just like it did with Mamwyn. I’ve no idea what it all means, but after turning for one final look at us, it glides back down into the gloom.
Gradually my heartbeat steadies. I feel the pull of the water surging past us towards the rock towers of the Pig Stacks. It’s getting stronger. I watch a shoal of silver whiting as they swim against the flow, fighting their way out of the current. The tide is still racing out. Mamwyn circles round me to let me know I should follow her closely. She gives the treacherous rocks a wide berth and I stick to her like a shadow.
As soon as we’re safely past, the seabed starts to rise sharply as we approach the shoreline. Mamwyn heads for a mound of slate boulders just off the beach. We surface for air.
Heads bobbing in the swell and keeping close to the rocks, we scan the beach for any sign of movement. A flock of sandpipers peck at the flotsam and seaweed on the tideline. Apart from that, nothing. Mamwyn dives back under and glides through the water towards a crevice in the cliff face at the sea end of the beach. I follow, heart pumping faster. I try not to think what would happen to us if anyone sees us transforming. At least there are two of us, and we’ve planned to do this. Not like when Mum came.
After a final check to make sure there’s nobody about, we haul ourselves out of the waves, as close to the cliff cave as we can get. As soon as I feel land under my body, the lights flash and dance on the edge of my vision. For a moment I’m held in the web of pain as bones and muscles contract, stretch, change. I keep pushing through the spiralling lights to the circle of brightness.
Toc!
The pain stops. I struggle to get myself upright and off the cold, damp sand, holding my sealskin around my body. We both head straight into the cave, shivering in the freezing offshore wind.
“Oh good – the bag’s still in one piece!” says Mamwyn, picking up the green plastic bag from behind a boulder. She carefully undoes the knot and opens it, taking out all the clothes and handing me the things I’m going to wear.
I put them on as fast as I can, but it’s really hard to get dressed quickly when your body’s still wet. I struggle into the scratchy woollen granny vest and awful navy trousers, carefully holding my sealskin in front of me like a towel. I feel far more exposed and self-conscious here. Now the tide’s out, someone could walk past the cave entrance at any minute. I grab the cagoule and pull it over my head. It’s not nearly warm enough, but it helps to keep the wind chill out a little.
When I look at Mamwyn, I almost laugh out loud. The combination of her Christmas jumper dress and leggings with the flip-flops is extraordinary. But I guess I probably don’t look much better.
Mamwyn rolls up our sealskins and squashes them into the carrier bag. Even though she manages to push them far enough into the bag to hide them, I swear I can see them shimmering through the green plastic in the dusk.
I shiver. Just now I thought the conger eel coming up from the wreck was some kind of monster. But I was wrong. The real monster lives here. And we’ve come to find him. Even so, I don’t want to encounter anyone while we’ve got our skins with us.
“Hope we don’t meet anyone while we’re carrying that bag,” I say. “Can’t we leave it in the cave?”
I’m worried the bag will attract attention, and the strange way we’re dressed doesn’t help either. We’re much too vulnerable.
“We don’t know how long we’ll be, and the tide could cut us off,” says Mamwyn. “We don’t want to be stranded. Quick, let’s get off the beach, out of this breeze.”
She must be as cold as I am. Flip-flops aren’t exactly ideal footwear for a chilly evening so early in the year, and we could both use a few extra layers of clothing.
We head round the bottom of the cliff and across the beach towards the holiday cottages. The season hasn’t really started yet and they look empty. No lights, no smoking chimneys. A pair of crows on a rooftop chatter loudly and one of them takes off, gliding in the wind. It circles and flies up the lane, cawing to its mate.
“We should go that way. Crows always know.”
“Let’s hide the skins first, Mamwyn. There’s a ruined cottage up here that might be good.”
I lead her to the hidden ruin that Levi found when we first came. We duck under the ivy and step inside. It’s even bleaker in here in the fading light. Mamwyn isn’t happy.
“I don’t like this. It’ll be dark soon. It’s not right to leave them.”
Something tells me it would be worse to take them with us. I follow my instinct and take the bag from her.
“They’ll be okay up here under the ivy. I can find them for us later.”
Even in this light, I catch a glimpse of Mamwyn’s expression as I push the bag out of sight on the top of the crumbling back wall. I try to reassure her.
“I can’t explain why, but I think we have to leave them.”
She stares at me intently for a moment and then nods. We peer through the overhanging foliage and check the lane carefully, before ducking back out.
Mamwyn looks up at the sky. The crows are circling. As soon as they see us, they fly off up the lane. Mamwyn starts walking in the same direction.
“This is the way. The crows know.”
I don’t say anything. As far as I can see, there’s only one road so we don’t have any choice. It smells of damp earth and the musky scent of fox. My anxiety has increased tenfold.
“I hope he doesn’t attack us.” I’m thinking about the Rottweiler.
“Don’t be silly. There’s two of us, remember. And Crawford’s no spring chicken.”
But his dog looks big enough to eat people. I don’t mention it because I’ve told her about Gabriel already. But I’ve seen him and she hasn’t.
The car park is deserted. One of the crows lands on the broken tarmac and pecks at it with his beak. As soon as we’re level with the entrance, it flies off again up the lane.
“We’d better hurry. We don’t want to lose our guide,” says Mamwyn.
Her crow stuff is making me irritable. Or maybe it’s fear.
“This is the only road, for goodness’ sake.”
“It forks in a minute.” She points up ahead.
I fight the urge to be sarcastic and ask if the crow told her.
“Have you been up here before?”
“Bits of your grandfather’s boat washed up here. I thought the body might too.”
Now I feel bad. Of course, that was probably the last time she came to this village. And in the end, the body didn’t wash up anywhere. I shiver. Poor Mamwyn.
We come to the fork. The road out of Porthenys goes straight up the hill. The lane to the right looks like it leads to the houses higher up the cliff. The crow is sitting on a hedge by the lane. He looks at us with beady black eyes and caws loudly, beak open, black head tipped back. Soon his mate is wheeling above him, carrying a large twig. He takes off clumsily and Mamwyn and I watch in silence. They fly together for a few hundred metres, then we see them both land in a pine tree at the top of the hill.
“Do you think that’s the plac
e?” I’m not convinced the crows know anything. They’re just nesting there.
“No harm in looking.”
We walk as quietly as we can in the flip-flops. There’s no one around, but we don’t want to be noticed.
A sudden rustling and I freeze and breathe in sharply.
“It’s just a rabbit. You don’t need to be so jumpy. I’m here with you.”
I look down at her. She’s an old woman and she only comes up to my shoulder. I can’t help smiling.
“That’s better.” She smiles back, and her brown eyes twinkle in the half-light. “He can’t eat you, you know.”
“Yes, but what about the dog?”
It’s getting darker and I wish we had a torch with us. It’s okay now, but I’m already worrying about the journey back.
“The moon should be up soon,” she says, almost as though she read my mind.
I wonder what the sea is like in the dark. And what were the cod so afraid of? I don’t think I want to find out. Especially not at night.
The road climbs steeply. Soon the scent of pine fills our nostrils. We reach the tree and listen to the crows making settling noises in the branches high above. A gloomy Victorian house squats in the garden behind a stone wall. A strip of yellowing lawn surrounds the house, flanked by dense laurel and hydrangea bushes. It could be a holiday let property, but somehow it doesn’t feel like one. People try to make holiday lets more welcoming. We look at each other.
“Do you think this is the place?” I ask.
She nods. “It has to be.”
We study the house in silence for a moment, then Mamwyn points to a faint patch of light on the hydrangeas, coming from a room at the back.
“Someone’s left that light on. Doesn’t mean he’s home, of course – in fact my feeling is he’s gone out. But we may as well ring the bell to double-check before we start snooping.”
My heart’s really thumping now. I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Are you sure? Why draw attention…”
Too late. Mamwyn’s already gone through the gate and is walking up to the porch. I scurry up behind her in time to hear the jangling of an old-fashioned door pull echoing through the house. No barking. Thank goodness. We wait a moment. No one answers. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“He’s not in.” I’m stating the obvious. If he was, that dog would probably be trying to knock the front door off its hinges to get us by now.
“Let’s have a quick look round while he’s out.” Mamwyn turns and heads out of the porch.
“What if he comes back?” For someone so old, she walks really fast. It’s all I can do to keep up with her.
“We’ll tell him we thought he must be round the back because we saw a light on.”
“But how do we explain what we’re doing here? We’d hardly be making a social call!”
“We’ll think of something.”
Mamwyn seems far less worried about running into Crawford than I am. I wish I found it reassuring, but I don’t. I feel very uneasy.
We skirt round the damp lawn, keeping our distance from the house, until we can see the room with the light on. We stand half hidden in the dark laurels and stare across into what looks like a study, with bookshelves round the walls, and an old desk and chair. Someone’s left a reading lamp. It’s the only light on in the whole place, and it’s not very bright. There are things on the shelves I can’t make out.
“I’m going closer to get a better look.” Mamwyn’s stage whisper is so loud it makes me jump. I watch her tread carefully over the lawn to the window and push her face up to the glass. She turns and beckons, her short frame silhouetted against the dim light. I realize it’s getting darker. I check round quickly before I run up to join her.
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising as I stare at the shelves. They’re full of animals. A raven looks as though it’s about to fly off a branch in its glass cage, but the movement is frozen. Two hares are caught for ever in a boxing pose. A pair of crows stand by their nest, watching a clutch of eggs that will never hatch.
On top of an old wooden chest, a half-finished deer head lies surrounded by wads of stuffing and reels of thread. The lamp is pointed towards it, which makes it look like someone’s been working on it recently. The glass eyes are so lifelike, I can almost feel its sadness.
“He must be keeping her sealskin in that chest.” Mamwyn is more focused on our mission than me. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“Doesn’t feel right? That’s an understatement. What kind of person stuffs animals for a hobby?”
“Ignore the poor creatures, they’re past our help. Concentrate on the chest a minute. Can you feel it too?”
“Feel what?”
“Just try it.”
I look at the chest. I’m about to ask her what she’s talking about, when suddenly I feel it. A cold, dead sensation. Mamwyn must have noticed my expression.
“That’s what lead feels like,” she says. “The chest must be lined with it.”
“Does everyone feel it like that?” I’m surprised I’ve never noticed it before, but then I probably haven’t had much contact with it.
“No, they don’t. But anyone who works with the old ways would know the properties of lead. It forms a barrier, even better than iron. You can’t sense anything through it. But Crawford would only know that if someone told him. That Beryl has a lot to answer for, I reckon…”
She doesn’t have time to say any more. The crows croak out a harsh alarm. I clutch Mamwyn’s arm. A low growl comes from the growing darkness behind us.
chapter 27
“Well, well. What have we here, Gabriel? A nest of vipers it seems.”
I’m determined not to let myself give in to the terror, but it’s a real effort. My legs are shaking.
“That’s rich coming from you,” I squeak.
Gabriel growls like he wants to rip my throat out and Mamwyn nudges me hard in the ribs to keep quiet. My mouth is dry with fear. I never thought I’d be so scared of a dog, but I can see Gabriel’s teeth glistening in the dim light from the study window. He looks like he wants to kill us.
“We saw the light on, Crawford. We’ve come here to speak with you. I’m sure you know why.” Mamwyn maintains her stature and dignity in a way that puts me to shame. Gabriel stops growling, and even Crawford’s smug expression drops a little.
“I have no idea what you want to talk about, Mrs Pengelly. Or why you would wish to come all this way to do so.”
Despite my fear, I feel a flash of anger. He’s such a liar. Of course he knows why we’re here. I’m about to tell him so when Mamwyn nudges me again. I shut up and let her do the talking.
“I believe you have something of my daughter’s. You must realize how important it is that you return it. Keeping it from her is making her life a living hell.”
Crawford can’t resist the temptation. “Better a living hell now, than eternal damnation.” His smile is sinister. “Believe me, Mrs Pengelly, I know more about these things than you. My mission to save her is a direct command from God.”
“I thought your God allowed us personal choice. What right have you to choose for her?”
I have to hand it to Mamwyn. I want to shout and scream in his face, but her quiet words seem to have more impact. It doesn’t do us any good though.
“I assure you I have nothing that belongs to you or your family. You are here on a false errand. Now I’d thank you to leave my property. I won’t ask how you got here, but I’m sure you’ll find a way back.”
His voice is heavy with sarcasm. As he speaks he takes a step forwards. Gabriel seems to think he’s been given the okay to attack and leaps towards me, growling ferociously. For a second I feel certain I’m about to die and I fall back on the ground in terror. The chain round Gabriel’s neck tightens only just in time. I feel his hot, stinking dog breath on my face and his strangled growl is loud in my head. Crawford pulls him back. I’m so scared I want to throw up.
“So so
rry. Gabriel doesn’t seem to like aberrations.” He smiles at me. It’s the coldest, most insincere smile I’ve ever seen. If he hadn’t got that dog with him, I’d knee him in the groin.
Mamwyn has managed to maintain her poise throughout this encounter. She didn’t even flinch when Gabriel leaped at me, though I did hear a sharp intake of breath. She suddenly draws herself up to her full height and opens her mouth. She starts to chant, using the strange lilting language she spoke in the cave at my first changing. The tone is almost musical, like some ancient song. It’s beautiful. Her voice swirls around us, holding us in a reverberating web of sound.
My whole body feels lifted by it. It’s like a distillation of all her joy of the sea. I know in my heart that this is part of my legacy, and I’m enthralled by it.
Crawford obviously doesn’t hear it the same way I do. His expression changes completely. He looks terrified. He crosses himself and seems to be mumbling prayers under his breath. Gabriel just cocks his head on one side and stares intently at Mamwyn the whole time. As soon as she stops, Crawford stops praying and starts shouting at us. I notice his voice is shaking.
“That’s more than enough of your evil witchery, Mrs Pengelly. I want you both out of here, now. Right away.” He yanks at Gabriel’s chain and turns towards his house.
I scramble to my feet. Crawford looks back at us suddenly. “And if I ever see either of you here again, I’ll call the police straight away.”
Somehow, I doubt it. He’s already spent a lot of time in prison. He’s unlikely to want to involve the police.
He strides off purposefully across the lawn. He doesn’t look back again. Gabriel trots beside him obediently, without a trace of his former viciousness. The dog doesn’t turn to look at us either.
“That was amazing. What was it? How did you do it?”
“Let’s get away from here first.” She sounds sad.
Out in the narrow lane, we walk quickly back down the hill in the deep twilight gloom. Once we’ve walked far enough from Crawford’s place to be well out of earshot, Mamwyn feels it’s safe enough to tell me.