by Jon Mackley
Will looked back at Lara. ‘It’s up to you, Pearl. How d’you feel about that?’
Her reaction was to say ‘no’ and run, but she remembered they’d shared a room while on the narrow-boat and, aside from that moment he had watched as she slept, Will had not taken any interest in her once she had pulled a cover around herself.
‘All right,’ she said. She heard the trace of nervousness in her voice, but somehow, in this supposed holy place and, with Will asking her if she was going to be all right in front of someone wearing a cross, she felt comforted.
‘It wouldn’t be a problem most of the time,’ the woman said apologetically as she filled out their details in the book, ‘but we’ve a party of pilgrims visiting this evening, so almost all of my rooms are booked.’ She smiled warmly at them. ‘Are you pilgrims too?’ she asked. ‘Are you looking for healing?’
‘I think “enlightenment” might be a more honest answer,’ Will said.
‘Then pray God you find it,’ the woman said handing him the room key and a pilgrim’s guide to the history of the Well. ‘Your room is on the first floor. God bless you.’
‘And you,’ Will said, bowing his head almost reverently. He made his way up the stairs. Lara followed him quickly.
Will hurried along a corridor and was surprised when he saw the room number. ‘It’s room five,’ he said to Lara. ‘Is that a coincidence or what?’
Lara didn’t know. ‘Does it work?’ she asked Will as he unlocked the door. ‘The well, I mean.’
‘People have come here for thirteen hundred years. There must be something in it; perhaps it’s only mind over matter. Or perhaps it’s a place where they can reach out and touch the divine, like the legend of St Macarius where the pilgrims sought the place where heaven met the earth.’ He opened the door and peered inside. Two single beds were divided by a small bedside cabinet. ‘Is this all right for you?’ he asked.
‘It’s … cosy,’ Lara said and followed him. Will turned on the main light and sat on one of the beds. He started to look at the small leaflet and wrinkled his nose after reading the first couple of lines. ‘What is it?’ Lara asked.
‘The building was built in the early sixteenth century. A hundred and thirty years after Gawain was written. Looks like we might have hit a dead end again. We can’t go back in time and see a building that’s been pulled down.’
‘Will …’ Lara said indignantly, but she was cut off by a knock on the door.
Will started. A simultaneous thought crossed their minds. They’ve found us.
‘What do we do?’ Lara asked. Her eyes flicked to the window to see if they could escape that way.
‘We see what they want,’ Will said, wiping sweat away from his forehead.
Her heart pounded as he wrenched open the door, braced for an attack. For a moment she saw, actually saw, a grey dog leaping from a man’s side, until she realised it was the owner of the hospice raising her hand to knock again.
Will’s expression melted from hostility to apology. ‘Sorry,’ he stammered. ‘Caught me by surprise.’
She nodded, appearing to understand more from his tone than his actual words. She smiled pleasantly. ‘A company of pilgrims have taken over most of the home,’ she said. ‘They’re communing for supper this evening and maybe some entertainments. They wondered if you’d like to join them.’
Will smiled broadly. ‘Thank you,’ he sounded pleased. ‘We’d be delighted.’
‘Come as you are,’ she said. ‘They don’t appear to stand on ceremony.’
She turned on her heels and Will turned back to Lara. ‘Are you coming, or just going to sit there for the evening?’
‘I thought we were going to try and keep a low profile,’ Lara said.
‘If you want to not be noticed, then blend in,’ he said. ‘We might have thrown off our pursuers for the moment. Even if we haven’t, they won’t notice two more faces amongst thirty. We can all be pilgrims tonight.’
Lara nodded slowly. She was uncomfortable with being with people she didn’t know, but Will had a point. She followed him down the stairs. Music blasted from the hall: the sound of reed pipes and guitars, of drums and flutes. Someone was singing, accompanied by stamping feet and clapping hands.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Lara asked nervously.
‘Don’t be such a baby.’ Will grinned and opened the door to the hall.
Brilliant lights met Lara. There were nearly thirty people in the room, some dressed casually, some of the women in colourful flowing skirts. Some noticed them and gave them genuine, warm smiles, but the music didn’t stop. A group of them were dancing in the centre of the hall, swinging their partners around in a jig. There was also a fragrant smell of cooking, which set Lara’s taste buds watering.
Only one of the group gave them special attention. A portly man with a ruddy complexion, bounded up to them. His jacket was a garish patchwork; his face ruddy and his curly hair the colour of wheat; but his eyes were bright with unquenchable warmth. His handshake was strong and enthusiastic. ‘Well then,’ he said. His voice had a musical Welsh lilt. ‘Well then, I’m Tobit, and I have the honour of being your host for tonight.’
‘I’m Will, this is Lara,’ Will said. ‘And thank you for inviting us.’
‘It’s our way,’ Tobit said. ‘When we get going, we forget there might be other guests here, so we take the precaution of inviting them before they complain to the management.’
Will laughed, and Lara smiled nervously. Tobit touched her gently on the cheek. ‘We’ll not bite, Lara. We want you to feel part of the group, so when you leave, if nothing else, you’ll say you’ve made thirty new friends. I’ll not introduce everyone – there’s too many.’ He glanced over to the kitchens. ‘We’ll eat together, then we can have fun and music, as you like.’ He clapped his hands and the music stopped, save for a guitar player in the corner. In a team effort, the pilgrims set tables and chairs in a huge square. Tobit showed them to seats while the others busied around them, laying places.
Nobody sat. Suddenly, the guitar ceased. Serenity fell across the table. They bowed their heads, but no words were spoken. Perhaps each of them was calling on their individual perception of God.
Then Tobit raised his head. ‘We have guests this evening,’ he said addressing the group. ‘Will and Lara, two new pilgrims for the night.’
There was a cheer. They all sat down together. Lara flushed. It was hard not to smile at everyone who made eye contact.
First a huge loaf was passed around and each of the pilgrims tore off a small chunk before passing on the loaf, then glasses were filled with a small measure of wine.
‘What’s happening?’ Lara whispered to Will.
‘It’s a form of communion. Everyone shares together. It shows we’re all equal at the table.’ They raised their glasses together and drank, even Will.
Food was brought through. A pretty young woman in a flowery skirt, a tie-dye blouse and wonderfully long hair, brought through platters of spiced meat. She carved it and served it along with a mountain of vegetables.
‘Eat,’ Tobit urged. ‘Else it’ll be cold before you know it.’
Lara ate, anxious but hungry. She was partly humbled by the hospitality the pilgrims showed to two strangers.
The meal flashed past. She didn’t recall what she talked about, nor with whom. Her tongue was guarded when it came to why they had come to Holywell; but pilgrims didn’t need to explain why they travelled. She had spoken of enlightenment, but had made no mention of the poem, nor the trail, nor that they were being followed.
Before she knew it, the tables had been cleared away and the music had started again. She listened to the pretty woman in the tie-dye blouse singing a sweet melody; then some of the men sang songs, first a capella, then as a Welsh choir. The songs lifted her heart.
Then Tobit was standing in front of them. ‘Well, friends,’ he said. ‘Pilgrims are notorious for regurgitating old tales.’ He smiled. ‘We are the old troubadours of yo
re. We travel and tell our tales, but we travel by cars instead of on foot.’ He smiled at Lara, ‘Like Athene of the Flashing Eyes, you are. Perhaps you might be able to tell us a new tale?’
Lara shied away from him, stammering. ‘I don’t know any stories.’ She blushed furiously, knowing whatever she did would not compare with what she had already heard this evening. Yet she wanted to entertain them, to thank them for their hospitality.
Tobit smiled gently. He leaned forward and whispered: ‘It’s all right, we’re not monsters. No one’s forcing you.’
‘I’ll stand in for the lady,’ said a voice at Lara’s side. The hall cheered. Lara was surprised to see Will striding forward. ‘I’d like to borrow a guitar,’ he said to Tobit.
‘Help yourself,’ Tobit said, indicating the rows of instruments.
Will picked up a Spanish guitar and sat next to Lara. The hall fell quiet as Will played a chord. He cleared his throat. ‘Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking …’ he started and the pilgrims started to laugh. ‘Here’s a bit of a slow one,’ he said apologetically.
He played a slow introduction to the song and when he started to sing, he gave Lara a gentle smile. His voice was strong and confident.
I don’t know if you can find me, or if my call’s in vain,
I don’t know if you will see me, and cut right through my pain.
I wonder if you’re lonely, and if you can break my chain,
Waiting for you to call me is driving me insane.
I don’t know if you want me, but still I make the call
For there is no one else in life, for whom I’d give my all,
Where are you then, I wonder, as my heart just starts to fall?
How can one be on their own, in a busy hall?
Lara’s throat had dried. She wondered why his words were affecting her so much. Will changed the beat for the chorus. Lara found herself joining with the pilgrims’ slow clap.
Come with me; stay with me, two lost in merry company,
Could take a moment to be found, if we stopped to look around
Come with me; stay with me, two lost in merry company,
Have something better waiting there, if we act in harmony.
We are blinded by glamour, used to forgetting tears
Feeling that surrounded, we’ll forget our lonely years,
If I could shout above the calls and shouts and cries and tears
Perhaps I’ll find a melody that might reach just your ears.
As a miracle the lights dimmed and at once, I caught her stare,
I called to her, asked her to dance; we danced as if in air.
I reached up and I kissed her, I saw her skin was fair,
“You waited so long to call me,” (she said) “I wondered if you’d care.”
But I called to you; you came to me, two lost in merry company,
Could take a moment to be found, if we stopped to look around
Come with me; stay with me, two lost in merry company,
Have something better waiting there, if we act in harmony.
Will played the chorus again and this time the pilgrims sang along. He rounded off the song with a chord and the pilgrims clapped and cheered. Will gave a modest smile and took a small bow before returning the guitar to its owner.
‘Thank you, friends,’ Tobit called. He turned back to his group and, as if an unspoken command had been issued, the musicians broke out into one of their more traditional pilgrim’s songs.
‘That was really lovely,’ Lara said, leaning over to him.
Will shifted uncomfortably. ‘Just something I cobbled together. I doubt it was appropriate for this company. I’d thought of singing the song which ends Twelfth Night, but it’s probably not what these people want to hear.’
‘The rain it raineth ever day,’ Lara said with a smile. ‘How appropriate!’
They stayed for a while longer. Lara relaxed, but after a while she found her head was lolling forward and she was no longer able to keep her eyes open.
‘Come on,’ Will said. ‘Let’s get you to bed. You’re exhausted.’
Lara nodded and allowed Will to take her by the hand. She heard him speaking with Tobit, but all the lights and sound had faded away to no more than a distant buzzing. Then Tobit was standing in front of her. He gave her a gentle, fraternal embrace and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘Go in peace, Lara.’
‘Go in peace, Tobit,’ Lara heard herself say.
Will did not carry her up the stairs, but he took the most part of her weight. Lara found herself silently cursing that she did not have the resolution to stay awake and assert her own independence. Will propped her up against the door frame as he fumbled for a key, then he pushed the door open and led her gently to her bed.
‘See if you can get changed,’ he said. ‘I’m going to brush my teeth.’
She fumbled with her clothes and managed to drag her nightshirt over her head, slipping between the warm blankets before he arrived. She did not close her eyes immediately, but waited for him to return. He smiled at her before he locked the door and switched off the light. ‘Goodnight, Pearl,’ he whispered.
‘G’night,’ she mumbled. She heard the sound of fabric against skin as he undressed, not even able to make out a shadow in the darkness. She heard him sliding between the sheets and then a long and contented sigh as he relaxed.
‘Will,’ Lara said sleepily. ‘Tell me a story.’
‘Aren’t you a bit old for stories?’ Will asked, but there was no disapproval in his voice.
‘Every once in a while, I want to be a child, I want to play and lose my adult responsibilities.’ She smiled. ‘It’s like my friends’ fathers at Christmas time. They used to give their children toys so that they could play with them. My father wasn’t like that. He would buy me books to further knowledge, encyclopaedias and things like that, sewing kits. When Christmas came he was showing me how he wanted me to be independent.’
‘Did you miss your childhood, Lara? Did losing your mother mean you had to grow up too quickly?’
‘Maybe,’ Lara said regretfully. She had often wondered what it would have been like to have time to play, rather than having to learn to cook and clean.
‘Well, just for tonight, relax. Just take a deep breath and let go.’ His voice was soothing, calming all the troubles she had had throughout the day. Her mind clouded with an almost narcotic confusion. Then she had broken through the fog in her mind. She found herself smiling, cuddling into her pillow. Will’s voice had taken a different tone.
‘Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl who lived in a house by the sea,’ Will began. ‘And her name was Lara.
‘Lara liked to walk by the seashore, listening to the waves crashing. It soothed her, because there was something in the house frightened her. She never said what it was.
‘One day, while walking along the shore she found a necklace made of precious pearls. She was delighted and put on the necklace. When she did this, she realised she could never return to the house. Whatever was in there had become too much for her to bear. Instead she walked into the water. She realised that with the necklace she could breathe underwater. She explored the underwater kingdom and realised the fear back on the shore couldn’t touch her when she was away.’
Lara found herself drifting away from him. She tried to break the grip of sleep, but she found herself falling, falling.
‘But no matter how much excitement she found in the underwater realms, she realised one day she would have to go back and face that house …’
Falling …
7
Lara started from sleep and peered around. It was light. Surely the alarm clock should have gone off by now? Michael would be angry again if she wasn’t ready with his breakfast. She stared around her, disorientated.
Then Will was sitting on the bed beside her. He placed a cool and gentle hand on her forehead and smoothed away her anxiety. She gave him a nervous smile. His hair was wet from the shower and there
was a small blob of shaving foam by his ear. ‘Good morning,’ he said. His voice was as gentle as a spring breeze.
He handed her a cup of coffee. She propped herself up on the pillow and sipped it.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, her mind still fogged by sleep.
‘Half eight,’ Will said. ‘You were sleeping like a baby. I didn’t want to wake you.’
She nodded sleepily. ‘I need a shower.’
‘Well, listen. I’ll go down and order breakfast, while you get up, then you can join me when you’re ready.’
Lara nodded and watched him leave. Part of her wanted to turn over again, but she got up when excitement bubbled inside her and her memories of the last two days became clearer – Chester and now Holywell – a place where another clue might be unravelled, inspiring her to leap out of bed and run along the corridor to the shower.
The water was warm and refreshing, prising her away from sleep. She wanted to stay under the powerful jets, but she washed herself quickly and ran down the stairs with wet hair once she had dressed.
Will was drinking coffee in the breakfast room, waiting for the food. They enjoyed an English breakfast together. Lara ate without thinking. She was focused on the holy well.
After breakfast, she waited for Will to pay the bill so they could leave.
The woman who owned the establishment smiled at them as they left. ‘God bless you,’ she said. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’
‘So do I,’ Will said.
There was no sign of the pilgrims with whom they had spent the evening. Perhaps they had already made their way to the springs, to receive the healing they sought. Many pilgrims had already made their way through the waters. Some of them stooped and collected the holy water in bottles; others were murmuring prayers as they walked underneath the massive arches of the grey and brown stones.
Will paid the small entrance fee and they walked around the green to the shrine. Lara stared at the outer pool, running her hands along the iron handrails against steps which led into the pool. There was a large rock in the water, which she imagined was Beuno’s stone. It was scattered with coins like a wishing well: the place from which Winefride had received her instruction.