Valley of Nightmares

by Jane Godman

  We left him to sleep, and the doctor told me that Gethin had been very lucky. You should have been with us on the mountain, if you think that, I wanted to say. But, of course, I didn’t. He brought a nurse from Dolgellau with him, and she was going to stay and look after Gethin for a few days. The doctor decided—given Gethin’s strongly voiced opposition to the idea—that admitting him to hospital wouldn’t be of any benefit. But, he warned me grimly, he wasn’t going to rule it out if Gethin wasn’t recovering well enough at home.

  “Well, he’s lost a great deal of blood. He’ll be weak as a kitten for a while and have a heroic-looking scar, but no vital spot was touched.” The doctor packed up his bag, nodded to me and left. Gethin had maintained his story that he had stumbled and fallen onto the knife I had been holding.

  Later that day, I took Ceri in to see Gethin. He looked pale and tired, but a trace of his devastating smile dawned when he saw us. Father and daughter looked long and hard at each other, as though they were seeing each other for the first time, which—in a way—they were.

  “Ceri, when Bryn said what he did, about me being your father…” She nodded, her eyes as endlessly dark as the night sky. “Is there anything you want to ask me about that?” Gethin’s voice was painstakingly gentle.

  “There is actually,” Ceri said shyly, lowering her eyes.

  “Go ahead,” he said encouragingly.

  “Can I have a pony?”

  I bit back the sudden laughter that bubbled onto my tongue. She might not be entirely untouched by the events she had witnessed on the mountain, but Ceri was a survivor. I knew she would be fine. Gethin, despite the pain it caused him, had great difficulty stopping his shoulders from shaking with silent mirth. Promising that he would give her request careful consideration, I sent her off in search of Anika. The gypsies were packing up, ready to leave. Taran House was preparing for more change.

  “So,” I asked, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed, when Ceri had skipped out. “When you started coming to the Felicia, it wasn’t to see me?”

  Gethin laughed. “Well in a way it was,” he pointed out in a conciliatory manner. “After all, I knew you were friends with Ricky Meyer, and that he was likely to be mixed up in it all.”

  “I hoped you kept coming because you liked me.” I decided a bit of fishing for compliments might be in order. There were some difficult things still to be said between us.

  “Oh, I did. I liked you very much, and as I got to know you better, those feelings grew,” he replied, and the light in his eyes reassured me somewhat. His expression became serious. “I asked you this once before, but this time I want an honest answer. What brought you here, Lilly?”

  “If you had asked me that yesterday, I would have said that Ceri brought me.” The words came out in a rush, and I waited to see what his reaction would be. He remained impassive. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, so bear with me,” I pleaded, and he gave a brief nod. “You see, Ceri and I recognised each other when we first met—we’d been seeing each other in our dreams. Well, in our nightmares to be exact. And even before I met her, the very first time you mentioned your niece, I felt a pull toward her that was…” I floundered for the right word. “Irresistible.” It still felt inadequate. “I can’t explain it. I expect someone who knows about such things would say we were on the same psychic wavelength. Sometimes we even share the same thoughts. I think she called to me because I was needed here, but she wasn’t conscious of doing it. And it seemed, soon after I arrived, that Ceri was in danger. It was as if I was meant to be here, to protect her. Or so I thought. Shucky came for the same reason. Even Anika and Vidor may have been part of it. There was a psychic call for help coming out from this house, and we all responded.” I risked a glance up at him, but his expression hadn’t changed. “But, you see, Ceri wasn’t the person in the most danger. I was. Only I didn’t know it. I had no idea that they were looking for this letter.” I plunged on with my explanation. “If it wasn’t for Taran House and all the things you told me about its ley lines and position in the valley and the lights, we might never have met up. It acted as a sort of catalyst. And, because of the house, when we did come together, we were strong enough to defeat evil. This power we have is strongest in Ceri because she has been at the house for longer. Bryn knew its power too, but he thought, because he could feel that his powers were stronger in the valley, he could win.” I drew a breath. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you…”

  “Go on,” he said curtly.

  “I don’t believe that the house wanted Bryn—wanted evil—to win.” There, I’d said it. And it sounded every bit as foolish out loud as it did in my head. “Reverend Lewis told me that evil could thrive here, but so could good.”

  “So you think the house is alive? Sentient?” he asked.

  I shook my head impatiently. “No. But I do think it has more supernatural presence than most houses, and I feel really strongly that Taran House is meant to be a good place. And it needed me—us—to help it.”

  “And was Maxie Bauer part of this psychic plot? After all, it was he who told me you were looking for a job.”

  “That was just typical of Maxie.” I frowned. “I know you aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, and I truly don’t think of Maxie as a bad man, but sending me to Taran Valley and then pretending I had the letter, well, they were just examples of the sort of mischief and intrigue Maxie loved. He knew you and the Nazis were hunting for the same letter. That would have appealed to his puckish sense of humour. And I suppose he thought it might deflect attention away from him if you were both focused on me and on looking for it here.” I hesitated. “Can I ask you a question now?” He nodded. “In the cottage, how did you know what I meant when I asked who was coming? You said ‘the Hunter’, but that was our name for him, mine and Ceri’s. How did you know we called him that?”

  He was silent for a long time, his expression unfathomable. “I’ve fought against it all my life,” he said quietly. “I thought, at first, that everyone could see the hunters within the lights. It was only as I grew up that I realised that wasn’t the case. It was the reason Bryn hated me so much. Oh, he had ‘the eye’ as well, but it was much stronger in me. When he found that out, he was enraged. It was the one thing he couldn’t take away from me, no matter how hard he tried. But I decided I didn’t want it, and over time I just shut it out. Until last night, until you needed me. That was when I knew I couldn’t ignore the signals I’d been getting from the two of you. I’d picked up on what you called the man who was pursuing you. Picked it up telepathically, I mean.”

  “Why didn’t you and I notice straightaway that we could communicate telepathically?” I puzzled. “Ceri and I knew soon after we first met.”

  He smiled. “I think we were too busy concentrating on the other—more physical—attraction we felt for each other. And because I haven’t used it in so long, I’m not very good at it. Like a muscle that’s wasted through lack of exercise. I don’t have the dreams you and Ceri do, and I can’t communicate telepathically with Ceri. Even with you, last night, it was like a weak radio signal.” I nodded. It was, after all, something I had needed to work at with Ceri. “What do you think will happen now to this psychic bond?” he asked.

  “It isn’t needed anymore,” I replied. “Ceri and I won’t share any more dreams or thoughts.” I paused. “Of course, I don’t know what would happen if one of us was in trouble again and needed the other.” My mind changed tack, switching to the questions that were uppermost in my mind. “Was he here all the time? Has Bryn actually been hiding in the house since the accident?”

  “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,” he replied. “It seems safe to assume he was here in the clock tower for some of the time. But you also saw him in the village and at the lake, so it appears he came and went as he pleased.”

  The thought made me feel slightly queasy. “And the near accidents that Ceri
experienced? Do you think he was responsible?”

  He shrugged and then winced in pain. “Yes. I don’t think the presence of a daughter fitted his lifestyle, particularly as it now transpires that she is my daughter. But they could have just been accidents.”

  “And it was Bryn who ransacked the nursery and my room and went through my things?”

  “I believe Fischer or his henchmen may have been responsible for the break-in,” he said. “That was certainly my thought at the time. But I must confess that I searched through your belongings a couple of times, hoping to find the letter and end this nonsense once and for all.”

  “When did you know Bryn was alive?” I felt like an interrogator, firing questions at him, but there was still so much I didn’t understand.

  “I suspected all along.” His eyes appeared darker than ever as they scanned my face. “That suspicion grew to near certainty when you saw him in the village and described him to me. It was finally confirmed yesterday by Crowley. Bryn could never resist boasting, and he delighted in telling his mentor how clever he had been.”

  I studied his face. The harsh planes were more clearly defined, and pain creased his brow. What do you say to the man you love when you have accused him of the most foul actions and then almost killed him? “Sorry” just didn’t seem adequate. I lifted his hand from the surface of the quilt and held it against my cheek. His thumb brushed away the lone tear that spilled over as we gazed at each other.

  Gethin shifted position slightly, grimacing. “So, since we are asking questions and being brutally honest, perhaps you will explain how you came to the conclusion that I was a Satanist and hell-bent on murdering my own niece?”

  “Ah.” I lowered his hand but still held it in mine. “I thought you might want to ask me about that.” He waited, watching my face. “Well, you have to remember that I didn’t know then that Bryn was still alive,” I said, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment. “It seemed that Ceri was in danger, and I thought about who might benefit from something happening to her.” I bit my lip.

  “So your suspicions alighted on me, because I would inherit Taran House if Ceri died?” His tone was neutral.

  “Yes.” I sighed, relieved that he understood. “And when the telegram came from Crowley, it said ‘delighted to hear from you again…’”

  Anger flared briefly in his eyes. “Crowley was one of the loathsome wretches who hounded my mother, wanting to buy the house from her for its occult status. I was obliged to meet with him to convince him that it was not for sale. But I am not in the habit of socialising with the evil bastard!”

  I recoiled at the harshness of his tone. “I also saw that the deeds had been transferred to you, which appeared to confirm what I was thinking. So, you see…”

  The anger had faded from his eyes now. “But you didn’t trust me enough to ask,” he said sadly.

  “And you didn’t trust me enough to tell.” My own voice was equally bereft.

  “It is hardly an ideal basis from which to seek future happiness, is it?” I shook my head in response, unable to speak for the constriction in my throat. The nurse came in and regarded me disapprovingly. She bossily shooed me toward the door. With feet that felt like lead weights, I trudged away. When I turned back, Gethin had his eyes closed again and the nurse—who was dainty, dark and pretty—was fussing around him in a proprietorial way.

  There really was only one thing I could do. Like Shucky and Anika and Vidor—who would be moving on within the week—I had done what I was brought here to do. When Ceri had gone to bed, I packed my belongings together. The picture Ricky had given me slid from my hands as I lifted it from the wall, and the glass smashed as it hit the floor. Gathering up the tiny splinters of glass, I picked up the frame. I would keep the picture, of course, but the mount itself was beyond repair. The picture slid out easily. Behind it, wedged into position, there were several folded sheets of paper. With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, I removed the documents and spread them out on the counterpane of my bed.

  So this was what all the fuss was about, I thought, studying Bryn Taran’s letter. For this sycophantic outpouring, Christina, her unknown lover, Ricky and Maxie had been murdered. This scrap of paper had led Mathias Fischer and Bryn Taran to their awful, undead deaths. Shucky had come to us and given his life to save us from the aftermath of this missive.

  I wondered what Ricky had been thinking when he gave the letter to me. I didn’t believe he had intentionally put me in danger. Perhaps he knew the Nazis were getting close and wanted somewhere safe to hide his ticket out of the Felicia until the heat died down. Possibly he meant to come and visit me in Wales so that he could reclaim the letter. He must have been desperate in those last few days. If only he’d confided in me. Giving in to the tide of my emotions, I began to cry.

  Some time later, when the house was in darkness, I made my way along the landing. I had placed Bryn Taran’s hateful letter in an envelope and addressed it to Gethin. Noiselessly, I tiptoed into his room. As I had hoped, he was sleeping soundly, recent events having finally taken their toll. I placed the letter on the bedside table and spent a moment gazing down at his beloved face, illuminated by a faint shaft of moonlight.

  I wished things could have been different. If I was right and there was something about Taran House that had enabled it to bring us all together to save it from the monstrosities that Bryn Taran planned for it, then my time here was done. This valley had no further use for me. Gethin and I were just a brief interlude in the history of this old house. Our tale was told. The tears threatened to fall again, and I fought them back as I left the room.

  * * *

  The early-morning train was nowhere near full, and I managed to find an empty carriage. My misery filled the dull space with its malign presence. In the past, the smoky, steamy smells of trains and the noise and bustle at the station were evocative of holidays with my parents or the welcome return to school after time spent with my aunt. From now on, I would forever associate them with leaving the place and people I loved. My conscience hurt when I thought of Ceri, but she had a father to care for her now.

  As the train pulled out of the station, two elderly ladies joined me and settled down in preparation for a long, chatty journey. One of them offered me a mint humbug, and I took it to be polite. I buried my head in my book, and they correctly interpreted this to mean I did not want to speak. My companions kept up a running commentary at each of the stations, which began to grate on my nerves very quickly.

  We had just pulled away from Machynlleth when the carriage door nearly flew off its hinges as it was hauled violently open.

  “Bloody hell, Lilly! I said it wasn’t an ideal basis, I never said I didn’t want to try!” Gethin’s furious voice rang in my ears, and my book slid from my nerveless fingers. The two old ladies looked from him to me with interest and then, taking in the grim fury of his expression, scuttled away to find another carriage. Slamming the door behind them, Gethin hauled me to my feet and proceeded to kiss me until my legs gave way and I had to sit down again.

  “You are a bad influence,” he informed me sternly, some considerable time later.

  I interpreted this to be a comment about the fact that I was sitting in his lap, so I wriggled around provocatively until I felt his body start to react. Opening my eyes wide, I said, with pretended innocence, “How?”

  “Because I have left my daughter with the gypsies in order to spend a night in London with you, fair temptation,” he retorted.

  “Oh!” I digested this information. “But we don’t have to stay in London tonight,” I said. “We can go straight back to Taran on the return train.”

  “Not only are we going to stay in London tonight,” he informed me, “we are going to stay in the best hotel, in the grandest suite. We are going to eat at the finest restaurant and drink the best champagne, and then we are going somewhere to dance cheek to cheek until dawn.
” He reached into his breast pocket and drew out a small, velvet box. “Because, my love, I hope we will be celebrating.” The ring was a beautiful square diamond, flanked by two smaller sapphires. “I didn’t just go to town the other day to see Crowley,” Gethin said, smiling at the dawning wonder on my face. “But, of course, I bought this before you stabbed me and accused me of being a devil worshipper.”

  I hung my head, and he slid a finger under my chin, constraining me to look up again. “Lilly Divine,” he began, and I could hear the raw emotion in his voice, “I never believed, until I met you, that it was possible to love someone more than life itself. I want to spend my life putting cream on your strawberries and champagne in your orange juice. Will you let me?”

  It was one of the only times in my life that I have been unable to speak. Aware that he was watching me with anxious eyes, I nodded, and Gethin, with a hand that was not quite steady, slid the ring onto my finger.

  “Just one more thing,” he said, after we had finished the very enjoyable task of sealing the arrangement with a kiss.

  “Hmmm?” I burrowed my face into his neck, but he tilted my chin up again so that he could study my face.

  “You have already seen the deeds, so it is no longer a surprise, but I have been completing all the legal and financial arrangements to buy Taran House, all quite above board, I assure you! I will pay Ceri the market value for the house and I have employed a solicitor to oversee the sale. It was to be my wedding present to you. How would you feel about making it our family home? It will still be Ceri’s home too, of course.”

  I thought of the legal papers, which referred to “titles” and “deeds”, and how I had foolishly misinterpreted his intentions. And I thought of Taran House, crying out to be loved and to be rid at last of its awful legacy. Perhaps the old place had more of a plan than I’d realised, after all. It was going to be a proper family home once more.

  I laughed. “I think I must be a Lilly of the valley at heart,” I assured him in my best Welsh accent.