She walked on, the image of the burning car floating in her mind. Freddie and Herbie had gone off in Herbie’s truck to salvage the shell, and she imagined how bad Freddie would feel seeing it. Like a kick in the teeth.
Guilt scorched her mind and, like the car, it wouldn’t stop burning. I haven’t been good to my parents, she thought, or to Lucy. I’ve been nothing but trouble since I was born, and they have LOVED me, awesomely. She thought of Benita tenderly licking the tear from Kate’s cheek. I never loved Mum like that, she reflected; why does it take a scraggy little cat to show me how to love?
Driven along, blindly, by the turmoil of emotion, Tessa suddenly found herself at the gate of the field. Years had rolled by and she hadn’t been there. Not since Art.
The stream still gurgled tunefully, emerging from under the hedge in a gully overhung with hart’s-tongue ferns and globules of moss. A heavy padlock clunked against the gate and a white board gleamed there, with Freddie’s beautiful script painted in black gloss paint.
NO FLAIL-CUTTING
It had worked. The whole hedge hummed with bees and hoverflies like a great white ocean liner in full sail, the blossom like sea foam brushing the waves of grass. Majestic and vibrant with an inner life where nesting birds were raising families, tiny blue eggshells cracking open, tiny wet beaks and secret voices.
The soporific perfume of the hawthorn flowers filled the air. Tessa inhaled the scent, letting it cleanse the smoke from her mind. Starlinda’s encouraging words sang in her heart. ‘My God, girl, you’re an earth angel.’
She climbed over the gate and picked her way through ant hills and years of uncut grass. The turf was cushiony under her feet, and amongst the tussocks of couch and ryegrass, the natural hillside grasses and wild flowers were glowing brightly. Speedwell and scarlet pimpernel, shackle-grass and sheep sorrel. The bright flake of a blue butterfly.
Tessa’s spirits lifted. While she’d been suffering in London, a miracle had been painting itself here, in her field. It was humbling. At first she avoided the source of the spring, and walked up the other side, following a winding rabbit path. She was thrilled to discover Freddie’s lime trees, now about ten feet tall, their buds breaking into pillow-soft leaves of lemon-green. He’d planted bushy young oaks, and silver-stemmed ash trees, their new leaves wine-coloured and vibrant.
Tessa walked on to the top boundary to inspect the new fence Freddie had told her about. It looked like something from a warzone. Whoever had bought those acres of woodland clearly wanted to keep the world out. A robin was flying ahead of her, pausing in obvious places to wait for her to catch up. Like the robin in The Secret Garden, Tessa thought, he’s leading me. He wants me to go in the wood. She followed him to the wire gate and he perched on it, chirruping at her. She touched the padlock. It was locked, but well used and bright. The strange flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach started again. Something about the feel of the padlock in her hand. Who had touched it? Who was using the meandering path to the spring? A ghost of a feeling fled through her heart and left as quickly as it had come. Something lost. Forbidden. Forbidden fruit – that was it.
The robin opened his beak and gave her some serious advice. He flew towards the spring and sang in the elder tree, watching her. Lou had once told her robins were messengers from spirits. Tessa believed her. This robin was telling her she could no longer put off visiting the source of the spring. A spirit was waiting. A light shone through the elder tree, a silent light, with a shape.
Why am I scared? Tessa thought. She quietened her footsteps on the hush of the turf until they were whispers on the well-trodden path to the spring. The branches of the elder tree squeaked as she parted them and crept in. She no longer saw the light. She was in it, as if she had stepped inside an angel. A sense of belonging filled her and she found herself doing as Starlinda had taught her. Focusing on the heart.
She wanted answers.
She closed her eyes, put her hand on her heart, and listened.
The listening had incandescence and colour. Like a sea-pearl. She was within the colour of the listening.
Dazed, she sat down under the elder tree, in dappled sunlight. Bees hummed on the nectar-rich umbels of elder-flower. She heard the eternal burble of the rising water. ‘Allow yourself’ was something Starlinda constantly said to her. ‘Allow yourself the heaven that is there for you.’ She relaxed and drifted into trance, into another dimension, and it was then that she heard the singing.
It wasn’t close. It wasn’t by the spring. It was somewhere up in the wood, behind the forbidding fence. The twang of a guitar. The tune. And the words, sung softly, deeply, by a voice that seemed part of the wood, a voice that whispered through time like the wind in the cornfields.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be, let it be.
There will be an answer,
Let it be.
Hours later Tessa walked back to The Pines in the golden evening. At first she floated along, amazed at what she had done, the ambience of the magic carrying her in her body of light. I am myself, she kept thinking, I am that shining being. But as the hedges changed to the wreckage left by flail-cutters, and the stumps of dead elm trees, she felt herself going down and down, re-entering the atmosphere of a troubled world. Sadness billowed behind her like a dark flag. She felt doomed. She had to go back. There was work to do, commitments to honour, and Paul. It was exactly as Starlinda said. Karma. The price she must pay. The life she must live in order to get where she wanted to go. It was cumbersome compared to the spiritual joy of being her true self.
‘I need to talk to you, Dad,’ she said urgently when she arrived home to find Freddie gloomily contemplating the burnt-out shell of her car.
‘Can’t do nothing with it,’ he lamented. ‘’Tis scrap. No use to anyone. ’Tis a shame.’
Tessa made him look at her. ‘I need to talk, Dad.’
His eyes lit up with understanding. ‘It’s been a long time – since we talked. Too long.’ Freddie led her to the bench outside his workshop. ‘Kate’s in the kitchen boiling fish,’ he said, and his eyes twinkled, ‘for Her Majesty.’
‘Her Majesty?’
‘The cat.’
‘Do you like Benita too, Dad?’
‘Course I do. I love all animals, you know that. It’ll be good for Kate to have a cat to pamper.’
‘I’m so glad. At least it’s a happy ending for Benita.’ Tessa picked a stalk of grass and began to pull the seed head apart. ‘Lucy and I used to make little baskets from the grass. Do you think she’ll ever come home, Dad?’
Freddie’s face hardened. ‘’Tis up to her.’
‘Couldn’t you forgive her, Dad?’ Tessa searched his eyes, past the pain to the redundant spark of love he still had for Lucy. She longed to talk him through the heart meditation, but he shook his head and gazed at the sky, effectively closing the door on the subject of Lucy.
‘But what if my life doesn’t work out the way you and Mum want for me?’
Freddie looked at her eyes again. ‘Ah – I know that already, Tessa. I knew that the day you were born.’
‘How? How did you know that?’
‘I had – a vision.’
‘Tell me – please, Dad – it matters to me right now.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I have visions too, Dad, like when I saw the angel. And my life is going to change. I’m already working and learning how – but I need your support, your blessing on what I’m going to do.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Freddie was looking at her so intensely that Tessa wondered if she ought to risk telling him. He was still in shock from the burning car, more so than she was. Everything had happened so fast and she was on the rollercoaster, about to plunge over another precipice.
‘I’m studying astrology at night school,’ Tessa said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s brilliant. I love it, and I intend to b
e an astrologer – that’s just for starters, Dad. Astrology is a doorway for me, and it will help me too.’
‘Astrology!’ he gasped. ‘What the blimin’ heck is that?’
‘It’s to do with the alignment of the planets when you were born and how it influences your whole life.’
‘Ah – planets – like Patrick Moore sort of stuff? I like his programmes – The Sky at Night – and the music’s lovely.’
‘No, Dad. That’s astronomy. This is astrology – the ancient science of using planetary alignments to predict trends in people’s lives, warn them, help them understand and plan.’
Freddie looked flummoxed. ‘And you study THAT at night school?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well – I’m telling you – you aren’t gonna earn a living doing that. Don’t even think about doing such a thing. You’re heading for trouble.’
The conversation ground to a halt. Tessa bit back the words she wanted to say. Instead, she asked, ‘Is that what Granny Annie said to you when you bought the lorry?’
‘Ah – well – yes. But it turned out she was wrong.’
‘But – don’t you believe in destiny, Dad?’
‘Destiny?’ Freddie’s eyes rounded. ‘Destiny.’ He repeated the word in a different tone of voice. His eyes deepened into storytelling mode. ‘The last time I heard that word was from a Romany Gypsy, a fortune-teller. On the day you were born.’
A cloak of resignation settled around Tessa. She had always relied on being able to share spiritual stuff with her dad. It was disappointing to find him critical of her treasured dreams. A mask of denial hung between them, and Tessa felt suddenly more alone than ever in her life. She’d always loved Freddie’s stories, but now she listened dutifully, sensing their precious time together pouring away like sand through her fingers. What if she could never share her dreams with him? What if she had to achieve it alone, in Monterose, with everyone criticising and ridiculing her? Everyone is against me. No one understands, she thought. Even Dad has abandoned me. I can’t do this, I can’t.
Gremlins of doubt and depression paraded through her mind all night, like a protest march with banners bobbing. DON’T BE SO SILLY and YOU CAN’T DO THAT and YOU’RE HEADING FOR TROUBLE, painted in red, white and blue letters. Closely followed by another batch: STAY ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW and BE BRITISH and BE SENSIBLE.
When morning came, with leaden skies, she felt drained and overwhelmed. She didn’t want to get up. Ever. The heavy rain clouds seemed to be in the house, searching for her mind. She worried all night, then slept through the morning, comforted only by Benita who cuddled into her shoulder, purring, and pouring love into Tessa as if she knew they must say goodbye. At least the little cat would be safe and happy with Kate.
Pale faced and switched off, Tessa managed to chat pleasantly and eat lunch with her parents.
‘You don’t want to go back, do you?’ Kate said kindly.
‘No. But I must.’
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I rang Paul,’ Kate admitted. ‘I thought he ought to know about the car catching fire. He was—’
‘Angry?’
‘No, dear. He was upset. He didn’t know what to say to me. That’s because he feels guilty, and he knows I know he’s not treating you right. Anyway, he said he’d borrow his dad’s car and come to fetch you.’
Tessa sighed. She wanted to tell her mum how that made her feel. How the curtains of mist were drawing in, hanging veils around her heart. But Kate wouldn’t understand, she felt, and kept quiet.
When the moment came, and the white Mercedes turned into the drive with Paul at the wheel, Tessa felt as if a ball and chain had arrived. Visions were all very well, but she was chained to reality. Please God, not for much longer, she prayed.
Predictably, Paul arrived shamefaced. Kate and Tessa watched him from the kitchen window as he got out of the car, armed with roses and chocolates.
‘You should hang on to him, dear,’ Kate said. ‘You’ll have a good life and a solid marriage.’
Tessa gave her a withering look. If only she knew, she thought. A solid marriage? Solid steel, she thought. Ball and chain, here I come.
But Kate was in ‘look on the bright side’ mode. ‘I know you’ve had a bit of a row,’ she said, ‘but you’re both under pressure, aren’t you? It will come right, dear. You must just keep on keeping on, if you know what I mean. And – look at him! He’s bought you roses – and fetching you home in a lovely car. What more do you want?’
Tessa felt the gulf widening. Or had it always been there? A gulf between souls. From the moment of her birth. The thought triggered a memory of her talk with her dad on the previous evening. Freddie had been trying to tell her something about her birth, and she hadn’t listened!
Paul was standing by the burned out shell of the Morris Minor, staring at it.
‘Where’s Dad?’ Tessa asked.
‘In the back garden.’
‘You talk to Paul. I need to ask Dad something.’
‘Oh – all right, dear.’ Kate wiped her hands on her apron and sailed out to make a fuss of Paul, as she always did.
Tessa slipped out of the back door, and found Freddie setting up wigwams of hazel sticks for his runner bean plants.
‘Dad! I’ve only got a few minutes – Paul is here. Dad, I didn’t listen properly. I switched off. What were you trying to tell me yesterday, about the Romany Gypsy? It’s important, isn’t it?’
Freddie’s eyes looked at her with a mysterious twinkle. ‘Could be,’ he said, and went on tying string around the hazel sticks. ‘But if he’s here, ’tis not the time, is it? For a serious talk.’
‘Mum will keep him talking,’ Tessa said. ‘Please, Dad. There’s so much I didn’t tell you last night – and we won’t get the chance again. It’s important, I know it is.’
Freddie went on tying the bean sticks, his cheek twitching the way it did when he was stressed.
‘Dad?’
‘I dunno,’ he said, and turned to face her, the string trailing from his big hands. ‘I dunno if I ought to tell you it. You got enough on your plate, Tessa. I don’t want to worry you.’
‘Why? Is it something bad? I HAVE to know, Dad, please.’
He sighed and stuffed the ball of string into his jacket pocket. ‘I swore I never would,’ he said, ‘but I want you to promise me you won’t go doing anything stupid. You hang on to what you’ve got.’
Tessa’s heart started to thump as she followed him into the house and up the stairs to the box room. She sensed they were not alone. Walking beside them were two shining spirits, the blue-eyed lady, and a tiny, bird-like woman with mischievous eyes. Granny Barcussy!
‘’Tis stuffy in here.’ Freddie paused to open the small window. ‘Look at that!’ he whispered, craning his neck to look out at the cluster of globular nests under the eaves of the roof. ‘House martins. Look, you can see the babies peeping out of the nest!’
Tessa leaned against him to look out, feeling like a child again, as they shared a moment of magic. ‘They’re so CUTE,’ she whispered, watching the bracelet of tiny faces peeping over the rim of one of the nests.
‘Wonderful birds.’ Freddie’s eyes shone. ‘So small, yet they make these clumps of nests, so perfectly round, out of mud and stuck to the wall. I couldn’t make that.’
Entranced, they watched the adult house martin arrive in a flash of black and white wings, deliver a beakful of flies to the row of waiting beaks, and fly off again, all in one graceful arc.
‘Wonderful birds,’ said Freddie, again.
‘Dad – you were going to tell me about the gypsy,’ Tessa reminded him.
‘Ah.’
‘Paul is downstairs.’
Freddie hesitated, his eyes slowly losing the twinkle of magic, his cheek twitching again. He searched his daughter’s eyes. ‘We’ve always been close, haven’t we? You remember that, Tessa – and remember I love you very much – and so does Kate.’
Tessa nodded. ‘Thanks.�
�� She had a feeling he was going to share something bad with her, something from the box of secrets marked ‘Family Shame’. It wasn’t a real box, but an image she had created to help her and Lucy to cope with the way Kate insisted on keeping their mistakes and shortcomings hidden from the neighbours, the aunties, and the world.
Still he hovered in the light of the small window, his eyes questioning hers.
‘Dad – please – we won’t get the chance again. If it’s life-changing, I need to know.’
‘Right.’ As if she had flicked a switch in his mind, Freddie crossed the room to the bureau, a dark oak, creaking thing, always open and covered in piles of receipts, notebooks and drawing pads. It had belonged to Granny Barcussy, and Tessa could see the smiling spirit of her, gently pushing him towards it. ‘There’s a secret drawer,’ Freddie said. ‘You never knew that, did you?’
‘No.’
He moved some papers and opened the middle drawer of the three tiny ones. He pulled it right out. ‘’Tis full of old three-penny bits and sixpences,’ he said. ‘Thought I ought to keep ’em. Might be valuable one day.’ Then he reached his hand into the hole and extracted the secret drawer from the back. It slid out with a whiff of old sage leaves. ‘My granny used to keep dried herbs in here in muslin bags tied up with raffia.’
Tessa was running out of patience, but she knew Freddie could not be rushed. With her nerves twanging she watched his large red hand extract a fusty envelope. He brushed the dust from it and gave it to her.
Tessa stared at her date of birth written on it in Freddie’s copperplate script. She turned it over and touched the hard seal. ‘Shall I open it?’
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