Fliss held a hand to the baby but pulled it back. ‘I know it’s really cheeky to ask…’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Sage handed the baby over, a little reluctantly. But Max’s magic did its work.
‘Oh, he’s lovely. He’s so little. Enjoy him, it goes so fast.’ Fliss looked at Sage. ‘Marcus wants you to keep in touch, just distantly. He thinks it’s not fair that Max doesn’t know his brother and sister.’
Sage was surprised. She had only had one phone call from Marcus, just to check that the baby was OK. ‘I didn’t think he’d want to be involved. He wanted me to get an abortion when I first found out.’
Fliss snorted a laugh. ‘Typical Marcus. He’s such a bastard.’
‘But you stay with him.’ Max twitched in his sleep and she smiled. He didn’t look like Marcus, or even Sage, now; he was his own creature.
‘I always think, until someone better turns up. But I did love him, I suppose I still do. Our lives are so entwined with the house, the kids.’ Fliss handed the baby back. ‘He’s beautiful, Sage. Perhaps the kids could meet him?’
‘I’d like that.’ Actually, the thought made Sage feel awkward. ‘What will you tell them?’
Fliss sighed, turned away a little. ‘God knows.’ She looked back at Sage. ‘That vicar is pretty keen on you. Did you know?’
Sage grinned, and rocked the baby a little. ‘I do.’
When Fliss had walked away Sage turned back to the vicarage. She followed the sound of voices into the kitchen and stopped.
Judith Bassett was leaning over a tray of cakes in a summer dress and oven gloves, speaking to an elderly woman who was filling a teapot. ‘I think she misses her old friends, but the new school is good—’ she looked up and stared at Sage.
‘Hello, Judith,’ Sage said.
Max sneezed, breaking the tension.
‘Oh, let me see.’ It was amazing, the effect a small baby had on people. Judith didn’t touch Max, but leaned over him, starting to smile. ‘He’s lovely. How’s he doing?’
‘He’s great. He’s doing really well, putting on weight.’ The unspoken tension between them was painful. ‘How are you?’
‘Some days are OK. Nick Haydon has been lovely, he even phoned from the hospital. I’m staying with my mother on the mainland; the cottage is up for sale.’ She breathed out with a sigh. ‘I couldn’t go back. I’m just here for the funeral.’
‘I understand.’ Sage wasn’t sure she could go to the house again, either.
‘Nick organised some people from the village to clean it up for me, and the removers took everything out.’
‘Great. Good.’
‘And landscapers have sorted out the garden and filled in – you know. The foundations were all right but the earth collapsed right up to the wall.’
Sage nodded, a faint shiver wandering down her neck at the memories. ‘I’ve put a protected notice on the well – it can’t be excavated again.’
‘We decided – Reverend Haydon and I – to put a patio over the whole area. Out of respect for that poor girl Stephanie, as much as anything.’
‘Good. How’s Chloe doing?’ Sage hesitated before mentioning her. The baby snuffled into her neck. When she glanced up, Judith looked sad.
‘She’s having some counselling. During those weeks before James died, she behaved really badly. She attacked me a few times, she had tantrums and nightmares. I don’t think she understood what was going on when— She is more focused on losing her daddy than what happened to you. She’s missing James terribly of course…’ She smiled. ‘She’s young, she’ll move on, and just getting out of the house has helped. She’s already making friends at her new school. My mother’s looking after her today – I didn’t want to bring her back so close to the cottage.’
‘So you just came for the funeral?’
‘I felt I had to. After all, we were there for so much of the story. I want to see poor Isabeau and her baby reunited. And Agness laid to some rest, at least.’
‘It sounds like Nick told you the whole story.’
‘Professor Guichard did. He was so kind, he even came to see us on the mainland. It was lovely to understand how those bones ended up under my lawn, even if it was such a brutal story. I want to watch that poor girl laid to rest and to let go of the cottage forever. I know Felix says it was all sound waves or something but – I felt a really evil presence at the house. We all were overshadowed by it.’
‘Me too.’ Sage smiled at Judith. ‘Shall we go?’
They walked over to the church together. Nick was already at the doorway, greeting the people as they came in. Maeve, looking even more birdlike, was hunched like an owl in her wheelchair. The landlord of the pub, Den, in a natty suit and a porkpie hat, was ready with a big smile for Sage and a present for ‘the nipper’. People she had started to really get to know were there: the florist, who had provided the flowers for free; George Banstock looking lost without his dogs being towed by Lady George into the ornate family pew; and the local historian Kate Jordan chatting with Olivia, the archivist. Nick was flanked by a dark-haired lady she recognised from photographs as his mother, and her heart jumped in her chest. At least he’d met Yana, who was beaming from a front pew, arms already out for her grandson. And her dad was there, looking sheepish beside his new girlfriend, Karen. Rob Greenway the builder and his assistant Harry had come with their families, and Professor Yousuf Sayeed was sat at the back. The church was packed.
Nick took his place at the lectern and tapped his microphone. ‘Welcome. We haven’t seen this many people since midnight mass last Christmas. At least you are all sober this time.’
There was a ripple of laughter from the congregation, and a few cheers. Nick’s expression changed as he looked at Sage, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment. ‘Before we start the service, I want to tell you the story of what happened one winter’s day, four hundred and thirty-odd years ago. In the woods beyond the common is a gravestone with three words on it: DAMOZEL ISABEAU DESCHASSEE. Damozel is short for mademoiselle, Isabeau is the name of a French seamstress, and deschassee is the old French word for “driven away”.’
As he spoke four village men carried a coffin in down the aisle, topped with a teddy bear made of white flowers. It contained, Sage knew, Isabeau and her lost baby, and tears tickled her eyes. She touched Max’s tiny hand, as he lay in Yana’s arms, dozing. The doors of the church creaked again, and a second coffin covered with flowers was brought in.
‘It’s also the story of another woman, who was born with a condition that nowadays would be treated and understood. Agness Waldren, who lived here with her brother, the rector of this church…’
A slight scuff of shoes behind her alerted Sage to a newcomer, but she still jumped when a hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned to see Felix, in a rumpled suit, smiling at her. She squeezed up to make room for him.
Nick told the congregation all they knew, building the best narrative out of the evidence. He became quite choked up when he spoke of Isabeau and her terrible injuries. Sage wondered if in some way, he had been a little overshadowed by the parallels of Sage’s baby being threatened in the same way.
The funeral service for Agness was simple. Nick explained that the words would have been familiar to her, written as they were in her century.
‘MAN that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased? Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.’
Nick bowed his head for a moment, and Sage envied him his complete faith. Yana squeezed her hand as Nick continued.
‘ALMIGHTY God, with whom do live the spirits of them that depart hence in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful, after they are delivered from th
e burden of the flesh, are in joy and felicity: we give thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased thee to deliver this our sister Agness out of the miseries of this sinful world; beseeching thee that it may please thee, of thy gracious goodness, shortly to accomplish the number of thine elect, and to hasten thy kingdom; that we, with all those that are departed in the true faith of thy holy Name, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in thy eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.’
The people around her murmured ‘Amen’ in reply, but Sage found her chest tight and her eyes flooding with tears. The awful story suddenly crushed her with the sadness, the waste. Then Nick took Felix’s place beside her. When she looked up a Catholic priest was completing his prayers for Isabeau and her baby.
* * *
Yana and Nick’s mother seemed to have cooked for the whole village, and Sage started to wonder whether their smiles covered a rivalry that would intensify once Theresa Haydon got her hands on the baby. About fifty people were wandering around the garden or the ground floor of the vicarage. Sage sat in the corner of the kitchen, blouse open, trying to feed a restless baby without too many interruptions.
‘Do you mind if I…?’ he gestured to an empty chair beside her. Sage nodded, and Felix hung his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair, and sat next to her.
‘How are you two doing?’ he asked quietly.
‘OK,’ she murmured back. ‘It’s an emotional day. I didn’t realise how upset I would be. I remember that day – and knowing Isabeau’s baby was thrown down the well was too close to home. And Steph, poor Steph. It all came back to me.’
‘How about the father? Has he seen Max?’
‘Not yet, but I just ran into his wife outside. Fliss was kind, she even held the baby.’ Max had settled into feeding, and she relaxed a little into the chair. ‘She’s behaved better than any of us.’
Nick put his head around the door. ‘There you are.’ He sat on the chair beside her, and rubbed his chest gently. ‘What a first day back at work. I hope it’s all over now. I know the police are still making their investigations about Elliott’s death.’
Felix seemed to hesitate just for a moment. ‘I’m sorry he died, but he was a threat to Sage’s life. We’ll have to give evidence at the inquest, but I have no doubt it was a tragic accident after Elliott suffered a psychotic break.’
Sage spoke quietly, staring at the baby’s eyelashes fanned over his fat cheek. ‘He did try to drag me in with him.’
‘I think it’s impossible to know what was going through his mind. At the inquest I’ll say he fell in when the well collapsed in on itself. I can’t testify as to his state of mind at that moment.’ Felix’s words were comforting. She wasn’t clear herself what had happened that day. But the well had felt like it demanded at least one sacrifice. The mental picture of Nick lying on the muddy grass made her grateful it wasn’t him.
‘I agree,’ she said. ‘Maybe the ultrasonics did make him mad.’
‘And I feel better now the well’s been covered up.’ Felix smiled down at Max. ‘So, what’s next for you two? Or three?’
Sage glanced at a grinning Nick. ‘We’re going to gently and slowly work towards moving in together.’
Nick laughed. ‘I’m thinking about a wedding before Christmas. It’s one of my busy times. Oh, I’ve just got to say goodbye to Father McCready.’
Sage shook her head, watching him go. She turned to Felix. ‘He doesn’t think it’s appropriate for us to live together unless we’re married, but I’m still getting used to having Max home. I haven’t even thought about going back to work yet, let alone getting married. Give me a year or two.’ The baby had fallen off the nipple, a drop of milk still on his lips, and she was suddenly embarrassed. She pulled her shirt together, and patted Max’s back.
‘You take all the time you need. He’ll wait.’ Felix reached out a hand to touch the baby, but paused.
‘He’s not fragile. Here, you take him while I button everything up.’ She put the baby in his arms. Felix sat stiffly, looking very uncomfortable.
‘He’s so small.’
‘He’s amazing. To have survived all that—’ Max sneezed, making Felix jump.
‘He’s tiny.’ A half-smile creased his face as the baby started hiccoughing. ‘Here. You’d better have him back.’
‘I still have one puzzle,’ Sage said, taking Max.
‘Let me guess. The alembic. You’ve been approached by a company who want to fund further research.’
‘How—? Yes, actually. How did you know?’
‘The same way you did. There are companies in a race – technologically speaking – to use the chemistry the alchemists discovered to recreate the making of gold. The stakes are high. Anything to do with Solomon Seabourne is interesting in that field.’
‘There are modern alchemists?’
Felix stood up and went to stand at the kitchen window, looking out to the garden. ‘Science we don’t understand yet we call magic.’ He turned back, his face serious. ‘But once I started researching alchemy I got a lot more research grants. Be careful. There are people out there who would be very interested in your research.’ His eyes rested for a long moment on the baby, then he went to the door. ‘And keep in touch.’
‘I will.’ Sage watched him leave, pushing through the crowd of funeral-goers. Then Nick came back into the kitchen with two glasses, and worries about the future dissolved.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, I would like to thank my editors Miranda Jewess and Jo Harwood at Titan, who have polished and sharpened the book into shape. I’m so grateful for all the work they have done, getting it ready and doing the characters justice.
Jane Willis, my agent, has been amazing, making the strange world of publishing seem easier. She is always kind, always interested, and has encouraged me to keep developing new ideas.
I would also like to thank my large and noisy family, who have always supported me, especially my son Carey. He is always willing to read and challenge my stories, which just helps them grow. My husband Russell is always willing to visit Elizabethan houses and churches, wander around museums and make shelves for my growing library.
Finally, writing is a lonely business, just the writer and a keyboard and empty pages stretching away. My refuge is a walk to The Coffee Cabin in Appledore, for a hot drink and a word with a real human being. Thanks to Martin and Richard and all the staff. You keep me sane.
About the Author
Rebecca Alexander is a psychologist and writer. Rebecca fell in love with all things sorcerous, magical and witchy as a teenager and has enjoyed reading and writing fantasy ever since. She wrote her first book aged nineteen, and since then has been runner-up in the Mslexia novel writing competition and the Yeovil Literary Prize 2012. She is the author of the Jackdaw Hammond series of supernatural crime novels published by Del Rey, The Secrets of Life and Death (2013), The Secrets of Blood and Bone (2014) and The Secrets of Time and Fate (2016). She lives in Devon.
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