by Helen Magee
‘Oh Fergus, you silly dog, don’t you know it’s dangerous in here?’
He turned to me and in the moment before darkness closed in on us I saw his eyes alight with joy though he said quite calmly, ‘I can see again, Flissy.’
Then the door to the cellar closed with a grating thud and the light was gone.
8
I groped my way towards him, too distracted by his new-found sight to give much thought to the bolting of the door.
‘Alexander,’ I breathed and as my own eyes grew accustomed to the dark I saw his shining up at me in the pale blue of his face.
‘I can see, Flissy,’ he said tremulously, ‘or at least I would be able to if it weren’t so dark in here.’ And he burst into noisy tears.
I cradled him in my arms as the sobs racked his thin body, murmuring words of comfort to him while Fergus licked his face and hands anxiously with his rough tongue. I let him cry, for they were healthy tears, and gradually the sobs began to subside and he rubbed at his eyes with his small fists. He looked down at the dog and said quietly.
‘He’s a beauty, isn’t he Flissy?’ And I could not speak for the lump in my throat as I realised that this was his first sight of Fergus. I nodded wordlessly and be began to speak again, his voice curiously matter-of-fact,
‘I expect it was the shock. The doctors always said there was nothing wrong with my eyes.’
‘Shock?’ I repeated.
‘Yes,’ said Alexander calmly, ‘she was going to kill you just as she killed my mother.’
My world rocked about me. ‘But how did you know?’
‘It was the words. She said those words once before, when we were in Italy, mother and I.’
And then it all came out. The trip to Italy, the picnic by the lakeside, the boy dabbling at the water’s edge, then the voice clear as a bell in the mountain air saying those words; the boy turning, the flashing hooves and then darkness.
‘What did they mean, Flissy?’ he asked. ‘I knew it was Italian and I knew it was bad, what she said, but what did they mean?’
His voice was earnest.
‘They meant ‘You must die’,’ I said quietly, and marvelled to myself how words spoken in a foreign language a year ago could by their repetition have such an effect.
He nodded again. ‘Yes, I think I always knew deep down it was something evil.’
‘You have always known?’ I asked.
‘I thought I must be wrong. Everyone said it was a terrible accident and then everyone said she was my mother.’
He clutched at me. ‘But she didn’t sound like my mother, Flissy, she didn’t feel like her and I thought it was something to do with being blind.’
I hugged him, the poor confused child. ‘And now?’ I said.
‘Now I don’t mind so much. It was much worse when I thought she might be my mother. But she is wicked, isn’t she Flissy?’
I smiled gently at his use of the word.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘She is wicked.’
The wicked queen in the fairy-tale, I thought.
‘But now we’ve got to get out of here, Alexander,’ I said.
I had not noticed before that my skirts were wet and that water was seeping through my shoes where I crouched. Dully the sound of thunder came to us and the urgency of our position was brought home to me. I kept my voice calm.
‘Alexander, I am going to see if the door is truly barred as I fear it is. Wait here.’
I stumbled and groped my way towards the steps but I need not have bothered. The heavy wooden door was firmly bolted. It was so dark I could hardly see my hand in front of my face as I stumbled back, almost tripping over Alexander as I came.
‘Are we trapped?’ he said, a tinge of fear colouring his voice.
I was brisk.
‘Not at all,’ I said, ‘someone will be along any moment to let us out.’
But the words masked my own fear, for I knew that no one knew we were here, no one but Carla. But surely we only had to wait?
‘Come,’ I said, ‘we’ll sit on the steps. At least it’s dry there.’
We sat on the steps and I began to tell him a story and even then the full danger of our situation did not strike me until I felt the water lap at my toes. I put my hand to my feet and panic swept over me as I realised how quickly the level of the water had risen. The beaten earth floor must now be saturated, the water unable to drain away. Small pieces of hardened earth and deadwood bumped against my hand, and as I heard faint squeaking noises I realised that the rats would also be looking for higher ground and drew my hand back quickly.
‘What is it?’ said Alexander.
‘Let’s move up to the top of the steps,’ I said briskly, ‘then when we hear someone coming we can beat on the door to let them know we’re here.’
We sat down, our backs against the solid wooden door and I wondered how much time we had and if the rain had stopped, then my hopes were dashed as I heard a dull rumble and the door behind me trembled at the blast while from far away came a faint insistent drumming sound – the rain. The vision of the culvert rose unbidden before my eyes, choked with dead leaves and twigs and the silt that the river had thrown up in its turbulent wake, and I saw the moat swell until it crept above the level of its retaining banks and the water that flowed steadily into the cellar became a torrent. I pushed the thought from me. We would still be safe here on the top step. Here we were at ground level. We would still be safe even if we did have to share our small sanctuary with the rats. I shuddered and pulled the boy closer to me while Fergus growled low in his throat, as if he too knew the rats would soon come. I thought I could make out some grey moving shapes in the darkness a little below us and was that scratching I heard? But imagination is a powerful thing and I thrust the thoughts from my mind. We will be safe I repeated to myself, then a clap of thunder seemed to fill my ears and I felt the whole tower shake. At first I thought it was the wind I heard but then I realised that down here that was not possible. The groaning continued and I realised at last that it was the timbers that supported the floor above. The warnings came back to me. The Keep is unsafe. The foundations are rotten. The spring tides have rotted the timbers. I called to mind the plan of the cellar. Great beams rose from the floor supporting the struts that held the floor above. The weight of those three stories seemed to press down on me. How many stones? If one of those beams collapsed how much of the Keep would come down with it? I saw in my mind’s eye the whole of that massive tower crumple and cave-in on itself, then I had no more time for thought for a great rending crash that was not thunder split the air and my eyes and mouth were filled with dirt and dust and water beat against my face. I drew a deep breath, expecting any moment to be engulfed by the flood but it did not happen and Alexander was shouting.
‘Look, Flissy, look!’
I opened my eyes.
The whole of the far side of the tower had collapsed, mercifully outwards, and the rain was gusting against my cheeks and though the sky was dark it was almost too light after our enforced blackness. I sat motionless for a moment before I realised the full danger of our situation. Above us the ruins of the Keep tottered against a storm-tossed sky and as another clap of thunder rent the air the structure groaned and bits of debris crumbled from the walls. The lightning lit the scene in lurid glow and I looked stupidly at the swirling water below us, at the flotsam thrown down from the floors above. For a moment I felt a great sadness as I looked at the tapestries, the chairs, all the lovely things that had furnished the Keep; then slowly – as if in a dream – a great oak chest balanced drunkenly on the remains of the floor above, toppled gently from its place, and crashed to earth throwing up a great spray of water and breaking the spell that held me.
‘Come on, Alexander!’ I shouted and, grasping him with one hand and the dog with the other, I threw myself into the water below. My breath caught as the icy waters closed around me lapping at my throat and Fergus broke away. I hefted Alexander up with both my arms and made to fo
llow the dog which was paddling with great good sense towards the fallen rubble of the far walls. My skirts hampered me and Alexander felt like lead in my arms as I thrust my body through the water. I gasped as it lapped my mouth, deeper in some places than in others, and once two bright evil eyes looked into mine and I almost lost my balance as the rat darted round me through the water.
Bits of furnishings floated past me, and once more I reeled as Vida’s face looked up at me from the portrait swirling on the waters. But though I wanted to, I could not rescue it and willed myself to drag the child and myself to safety. At last my feet touched stone and I almost threw Alexander from me onto the rubble. He began to scramble upwards whilst I hauled myself after him, my skirts heavy with water and dragging at my feet.
Fergus was once more in Alexander’s arms and, as I drew a deep breath of sweet rain-drenched air, I could have laughed aloud. The ground was merely inches deep in water up here and we picked our way round the Keep whilst the moat bubbled and swirled and spread itself wide. Quickly, looking neither to one side nor the other, I led the child to the front of the Keep. Not until we were on the other side of the moat, across the bridge, would we be truly safe. We rounded the ragged walls of the Keep and I felt Alexander shrink against me, for there on the bridge was Carla and holding her shoulders, shaking her like a dog would a rat, was Lachlan with murder in his eyes. I shouted something, anything, to stop him as he thrust her back against the parapet of the bridge whilst Charles tried to pull his arms away. He turned and gradually the dark fury left his face and his hands slipped from her throat and I was running, Alexander at my side, then we were both in his arms.
Charles gave a cry and we turned quickly to see the black figure of Carla rushing towards the Keep. The outer door swung drunkenly on its hinges, almost torn from its moorings by the wind and she was unbarring the door to the cellar. Then that door too swung open and the thunder rolled once more and in the lightning that followed she turned and looked straight at me, her face a twisted mass of hate and disbelief, then she turned once more to the door. For a moment her body with its black silk gown flapping in the wind was very still, then high above the wind came her scream, ‘Vida!’ and she plunged through the door as the thunder began to roll in the heavens and the sky was split with searing light. The Tower shook and shivered, seeming to hang suspended against the broken sky before it cast itself towards earth in ruins.
I remember nothing more, for then I fainted.
9
I have a dim memory of being carried back to the house, of Lachlan shouting for maids and Araminta fluttering beside me; of Dorcas thrusting Lachlan forcibly out of my bedroom as she undressed me, of hot scented water and clean sweet smelling sheets and then oblivion took over once more. When I awoke however, startled out of sleep by dreams of cold enveloping water and bright evil eyes, it was Lachlan’s arms that held me and soothed me until I ceased to shiver. I looked up at him, at the face so dark and strained.
‘Alexander?’ I whispered.
The darkness left his face for a moment and his eyes glowed with warmth.
‘Fit as a flea,’ he said brusquely. ‘Amazing powers of recovery, that boy.’
I hesitated. I was so lately woken from sleep that I began to wonder if it had all been a dream.
‘His eyes,’ I said tentatively.
Lachlan bent towards me and his hand touched my cheek lightly.
‘Oh, my dear, what a great deal I have to thank you for.’
‘Then it’s true?’ I said. ‘I didn’t dream it?’
‘You didn’t dream it,’ he said.
I sighed and lay back on my pillows and to my horror I felt the tears slide from between my lashes.
‘You’re crying,’ he said.
I sniffed miserably and dashed the tears away. ‘I’m so happy,’ I said inadequately.
His laughter rocked the bed where he sat.
‘Perverse creature,’ he said, but now other memories were returning.
‘Carla,’ I said.
His face grew sombre once more.
‘Dead,’ he said shortly. ‘Killed instantly.’
‘But why did she do it?’ I asked. ‘I heard her scream ‘Vida’ and throw herself into the Keep.’
He shrugged.
‘Who can tell?’ he said. ‘Her mind was completely unhinged by that time.’
I thought of her in her last moments. Perhaps in the lightning she had caught sight of the portrait but what was the use of speculation. He was right. Best to forget.
‘Alexander told me,’ he was saying, ‘about the accident and the words that brought his sight back. Perhaps in time I shall accept it as calmly as he does.’
I put my hand to his lips, smoothing out the lines of pain.
‘Oh my dear, he has known for a long time and what he couldn’t accept was denied by his body. Children are resilient. In time it will not hurt so much.’
His eyes were on my face, willing me to look at him as he said, ‘If you are with me . . . ’
But I could not look at him. Memory had returned in full now and I could see my stepfather’s face, hear the venom of his words.
‘Felicia,’ Lachlan’s voice was gentle, ‘you will not refuse me, not after you have given me such hope?’
The tears pricked at my eyelids as I said barely above a whisper, ‘My stepfather . . . the things he said . . . ’
I was interrupted by a great roar from Lachlan.
‘Him!’ he thundered. ‘I’ve dealt with him!’
At once I was in a panic.
‘You didn’t . . . oh you couldn’t have . . . ’
He actually laughed.
‘Kill him?’ he said. ‘That little rat? He wasn’t worth the trouble.’
‘But all those things he said,’ protested.
‘He tried to say them to me,’ said Lachlan with a grin. ‘Didn’t get very far though before I kicked him out. Very satisfactory I admit.’
I looked at him in wonder. For years my stepfather had haunted me, and now by laughing at him Lachlan had dispelled all those years of fear.
‘Still not learned to trust me, Felicia,’ he said, apparently highly amused. ‘In that case the best thing is to marry me straight away. You’ll learn all the quicker.’
I said quite calmly, ‘Yes, Lachlan, yes please.’
I thought my ribs would crack at the force of the hug that engulfed me, then a voice said from the door,
‘Not interrupting, am I?’ And Lachlan cursed under his breath whilst I giggled happily.
‘Come in, Charles, do,’ I said.
He was followed by Araminta, Douglas, Alison, Alexander and, lastly, Fergus who both hurled themselves on me.
‘Quite recovered?’ said Charles breezily and Lachlan muttered darkly again.
‘Really, Charles,’ said Araminta reprovingly, much to my surprise. ‘You’d think she’d just been caught in a summer storm instead of being locked up and half drowned. Don’t take any notice of him, Felicia, he’s not sensible at the moment. He’s made a fortune.’
I looked at Charles in amazement. He tried to look less delighted than he obviously was.
‘True,’ he said, unable to resist it, ‘and on the Stock Exchange too. The essence of respectability.’
Light began to dawn.
‘That was the gamble you were talking about? The one that would set you up for life?’
He coughed deprecatingly.
‘Not gambling, Felicia; speculating.’
I had a twinge of conscience as I thought about my suspicions concerning him and Araminta’s diamond.
‘The two are not entirely dissimilar,’ I said primly.
‘Now it’s no use being damping,’ he said, ‘or trying to be governessy. It’s impossible sitting up in bed in a nightgown as pretty as that – even for you.’
I laughed, then my mouth dropped open in surprise as he said,
‘Besides, it’s in the nature of a last fling. My future wife disapproves of both gamb
ling and speculation.’ And he turned and took Alison’s hand in his.
‘Both equally immoral,’ said Alison, but her eyes were dancing.
‘But speculation’s so much more respectable isn’t it?’ teased Charles. ‘And you’ll keep me respectable, Alison. About the only one who could.’
I looked at Alison, and marvelled that I could have thought her in love with Lachlan.
The look she was giving Charles was anything but respectable. I should have something to say to Araminta. She in turn was looking at Lachlan and me.
‘I suppose you two have fixed it up then?’ she said.
Lachlan drew himself up whilst suppressed a smile,
‘If by ‘fixed it up’ you mean have I asked Felicia to become my wife and has she accepted, then yes,’ he said grandly but his moment was spoiled by Alexander’s whoop of delight as he jumped off the bed and ran jubilantly round the room with Fergus at his heels knocking over furniture. I regarded him tolerantly while even Lachlan smiled and Araminta stuck out her lower lip and pouted beautifully.
‘Oh well, Douglas, I suppose that just leaves you and me,’ she said, shooting him a wicked glance that made him colour to the roots of his hair while the rest of us said in chorus,
‘Oh, Araminta!’
THE END