by Sharon Jones
She shook it and grinned. ‘Both of you come on through to the kitchen. Don’t mind the mess, will you?’
Poppy couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him the second Sally’s back was turned. His smile widened.
The kitchen was a mess, even compared to what Poppy was used to at home. Half-chopped vegetables were strewn across the kitchen table. Pots filled with liquids were bubbling on the range and there were heaps of laundry piled up in front of the washing machine. The air was filled with so many conflicting smells that it made Poppy’s head spin. She suddenly felt woozy again.
‘Busy time of year for us. And what with the baby due soon…’ Sally smiled and tucked an escaped curl of blonde hair back into her ponytail. She poured out two large glasses of lemonade and handed them to Poppy and Michael.
Michael grinned. ‘Thanks, that’s just what we needed.’
Poppy couldn’t help glaring at him.
‘How are you, Poppy? Must have been a shock,’ Sally said, nodding for them to take a seat at the table.
‘Yeah, it was. But I’m OK, thanks.’ She plonked down the lemonade as far away from her nose as possible and sat down in a slightly sticky chair.
‘Pete said that you knew her – the girl?’ Sally smiled prettily. Despite the roundness of her face, her features were small and a bit elfin. She reminded Poppy of Julia, which probably meant Michael was being nice to Sally because he fancied her.
‘Not really. I met her the night before. We just chatted for a bit,’ Poppy said, sounding a little more offhand than she’d intended.
‘What about? I mean, do you think that she was depressed or something?’ Sally was trying to sound casual, but the hungry look in her pale blue eyes gave her away.
Poppy shook her head. ‘I didn’t think so.’
‘So what did she say? Pete said she wasn’t a participant. What was she doing here?’ Sally smiled and looked down at the slate tiled floor. ‘Sorry, you must think that I’m really morbid, it’s just I feel like I’ve been locked up in this house for weeks. I’m so bored!’
Poppy smiled. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live out here all alone. Especially when the poor woman was carrying a whale in her stomach. ‘Isn’t the baby due soon?’
‘Last week!’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘But nobody seems to have told him that. You know Bob, don’t you? Well, he brought me this raspberry leaf tea concoction,’ she said, holding up a red mug. ‘It’s supposed to bring on the baby but I think I’ve drunk a gallon of the stuff and the little sod still hasn’t come out. Just hope he hasn’t got too comfy in there.’ She patted her stomach fondly. ‘I was on the computer this morning to see if there was anything else I could do to help him along. I’m making a curry for tonight – that’s supposed to be a good one.’
Poppy glanced at Michael. ‘So you have internet access up here?’
‘Broadband, would you believe. I’d have gone mad if not.’
‘My phone signal’s useless – I was trying to look up something from the festival website but couldn’t get on.’
‘Go on Pete’s computer if you want.’
Score! ‘That would be great. But are you sure you don’t mind?’ It was a struggle to keep the excitement out of her voice.
‘Of course I don’t mind. Come through to the office.’ Sally got up slowly, using the chair arms to balance out the bump. Michael rushed over to help her.
‘Eh, you’ve got a good one here, Poppy,’ Sally said with a wink. ‘Not many men with manners these days. Mind you, even the good ones you have to watch. Always on the look out for a better offer. Ruled by your pants, you lot.’
Michael laughed. Poppy’s cheeks started to burn. She was about to correct Sally’s assumption when Michael butted in.
‘She doesn’t know how lucky she is. Don’t forget to bring your lemonade, Pops,’ he said, with an innocent smile. ‘You wouldn’t want to forget about it.’
She was so going to make him suffer when they got out of there. Poppy grabbed the glass of lemonade, and Michael’s – he wasn’t getting away without drinking the horrid-tasting muck – and followed him and Sally through the house to a study that looked a bit, but not much more, organised than the kitchen.
The walls were covered in bookcases filled with box files and lever-arch files that had dates and codes on the spines.
Sally went behind the desk and typed something into the computer. ‘There,’ she said, picking up a few stray used mugs from the desk and heading for the door. ‘You go ahead and do what you need to do.’ There was the sound of a door slamming. She smiled. ‘That’ll be Pete. I’ll go and tell him you’re here.’
As soon as Sally was out of the room Poppy darted to the computer. She opened the search engine and typed in
John Barleycorn Gathering.
Michael followed her around the desk, grabbed the back of the chair and leaned down so that his face was right next to hers.
‘This could take hours, Poppy. Do you even know when she was born?’
She could smell the lemons on his breath and the forest-smelling shower gel he used religiously. She caught her breath. His closeness made her feel dizzy and slightly crazy – like she might do something stupid.
‘She can’t be that much older than us,’ she said, swallowing hard and trying to concentrate. ‘I’ll try the early nineties.’
The archive turned out to be huge. And not all the photos had labels.
‘This is no good,’ Michael said. ‘You’re not going to find anything this way.’ He batted her hand away from the keyboard, opened a new window and clicked on ‘image search’. ‘Let’s try John Barleycorn and...what’s her mother’s name?’ He looked away from the screen, right at her. She could feel his gaze burning into her cheek.
He was so close. So close that if she turned her face they’d be millimetres away from kissing. A voice in her head told her to do it, and to hell with the consequences. That voice, it was Beth’s.
Have you kissed him? Have you tried? What’ll happen if you do nothing? Say nothing? Watching him with someone else, it’ll eat you up, Poppy, until there’s nothing left.
She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Go away! she screamed silently.
Love is like fire. Unless it’s channelled it destroys everything.
‘Poppy? Poppy, are you OK?’
She heard the worry in his voice. Felt a finger brush a strand of hair behind her ear. When she dared open her eyes at last, Michael was perched on the edge of the desk, staring at her with a worried expression.
‘We should leave this,’ he said. ‘You’re not well.’
She tried to swallow back the queasiness that had lodged in her chest. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.’ Before he could object, she typed in Sandra and pressed return.
There were ten or twelve results, and from the thumbnails she could tell that all the photos featured the same woman. She had waist-length straight blonde hair, so white that it must have come out of a bottle.
Michael stopped frowning at her and shifted so he could see the pictures. ‘Any names?’
Poppy glanced from one to the other until she saw someone she hadn’t expected to see. And there he was again. And again.
‘Bugger!’ she whispered.
‘What is it? Oh!’ Michael said, catching on.
He’d barely changed. Same long grey hair and beard. Same Druid robes. The beer belly was smaller and the face was a little thinner, but there was no doubt who it was. And he was kissing Sandra – Maya’s mum.
Bob?
‘Nice to see you, Poppy,’ a voice said from the door.
Both she and Michael jumped away from the computer like they’d just been discovered looking at porn.
‘Hiya, Pete.’ Poppy jabbed a finger at the mouse and closed down the se
arch engine.
The farmer ran a hand through his gingery hair and shrugged. ‘Sorry about the state of me,’ he said, glancing down at his mud-splattered jeans and work shirt. ‘Those damn sheep are escape artists. I’m constantly mending fences. Nice to see you, though. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ Poppy said. She attempted a smile. And it was true. She was fine apart from the fact that her heart was trying to beat down the wall of her ribcage and her head was filled with a swarm of angry bees that were making so much noise she could barely hear what he was saying.
‘Any news from the police?’
‘They’re pretty convinced it was an accident.’
Pete nodded seriously. ‘Does seem likely. Poor lass. So,’ he said, perking up. ‘You’re the lucky lad who’s Poppy’s boyfriend, eh?’ He shot Michael a laddish grin.
‘I’m not sure lucky is the word,’ Michael said, and slipped his arm around her shoulder.
At his touch, the hairs on Poppy’s neck bristled and her shoulders tensed. Michael must have felt it, because his arm tightened and he frowned down at her.
Through the open window came the sound of a hunting horn.
‘Oh heck, sounds like something’s afoot,’ Pete said.
And there was something afoot. Something important...somewhere she was meant to be. Bugger!
Poppy jumped up. ‘Mum’s handfasting. I’ve gotta go!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Poppy sprinted over the cobbles, ignoring Michael’s calls for her to wait for him. She was going to be late for Mum and Jonathan’s handfasting. She skirted the bank of trees, running full out. Then, just as she reached the bluff where she and Beth had talked, the glint of sunshine reflected off the lake flashed in her eyes, blinding her. It felt like someone had grabbed her ankles. Her feet stopped moving and she toppled over.
Poppy cried out as pain reverberated through her hip and spine.
She pushed herself to a sitting position, brushed the grass and mud from her hands and looked out over the festival ground. Below, people holding multicoloured streamers and flags had gathered, forming a large circle around the wicker man.
There was no air. She couldn’t breathe.
Michael kneeled beside her and grabbed her arm. ‘Are you OK? Is your ankle hurt?’
She shook her head, pushing down the panic. She couldn’t talk. If she did she would scream. It was all too confusing: Beth, Kane, Maya, Jonathan and now Bob?
Michael’s gaze held hers. ‘What’s this about, Poppy? Really? You only met that girl once but you’re acting like she was your best friend in the world.’
Beth’s face flashed before her. ‘That girl?’ The words flooded out of her mouth. ‘She has a name, y’know! Don’t you think she deserves justice?’
‘Of course I do, but that’s not what this is about. Talk to me!’
‘She loved Maya so much that she died trying to find her. And Maya didn’t even love her back. Have you any idea how horrible that is? To love someone who doesn’t love you?’
Michael’s face softened. He let out a sigh. ‘Your dad loves you, Poppy. He didn’t leave because he didn’t love you.’
‘I’m not talking about Dad! I’m talking about—’ She shook her head as tears started to drip down her cheeks. ‘Just forget it.’
Michael was holding both arms now, so tight that it hurt. ‘No. I won’t forget it. You promised that you’d talk to me, and then half an hour later you’re shutting me out again.’
‘I’m not shutting you out!’ It was a flat-out lie, but how could she tell him the truth?
‘You think? You haven’t been the same since the accident. When we’re together you can barely look at me. You’re meant to be my best friend but it feels like you don’t even like me any more. So yeah, Poppy, I have a pretty good idea what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love you back!’
His face was inches from hers, his blue eyes so full of pain and anger. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d hurt him. Beth was right: her feelings for him were destroying them both. It was madness. It had to stop.
‘I do love you!’ she blurted. ‘Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you, OK? Happy now?’
Michael’s hands released her. He let go of her like she’d burnt him.
Oh God, what had she done?
‘I didn’t mean…’ She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I meant to say...’ There were no words. No lies to cover up the truth. No excuses. No jokes. Only the realisation that it had finally happened. The secret that had lived inside her for years had finally exploded like a supernova and there was no going back.
She dared a glance at him.
His cheeks had paled and his mouth was open in shock. But it was his silence that damned her. He just stared at her and said…nothing.
She scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ve gotta go – Mum’s thing – can’t…’
She ran.
No footsteps pursued her. He didn’t call for her to stop. Only a lonely silence followed her from the bluff. And the knowledge that she’d screwed up everything. But maybe that was inevitable.
Poppy stumbled through the canvas village, tripping over guy ropes and bags of rubbish as she went. She headed towards the wicker man, trying to ignore all the panicked thoughts that were thrashing around her head.
The circle of people was at least thirty deep and she couldn’t remember where Mum had said to meet her. She tried standing on her tiptoes, but everyone had been sleeping in growbags and she couldn’t see a thing.
Not knowing what else to do, she pushed her way through the crowd, but some people weren’t keen to lose their spot and it was like swimming through concrete. A hand on her back propelled her forward.
‘Scuse us!’ a voice shouted. It was Mo Little Wolf. The woman parted the crowd with a few well-placed glares and pushed Poppy to the front.
Mum and Jonathan were standing in the centre of the circle, holding hands in front of Bob. She darted over to them. She was so breathless that she could barely utter a ‘sorry’.
Mum rolled her eyes, but looked relieved to see her. Jonathan forced a smile onto his face, and in his eyes there was what looked like an apology.
‘Nice of you to join us, our Poppy,’ Bob said, raising laughs from the crowd. ‘Poppy might not be a believer, but she does live on Pagan Mean Time.’ There was more laughter.
‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Bob continued. ‘Having been joined together for a year and a day, Meg and Jonathan have decided that this handfasting will see them bound together, not for another year, but for all eternity. This is a serious commitment that must only be undertaken by those who have tested their love for one another and believe that they are truly soulmates. Eternity is a long time, but not to those that love.’
Poppy gasped back breath after breath. From the edge of the circle, Kane was watching her. His eyes were sunken. And he looked thinner, almost as if something was eating away at him from the inside. Something, or someone? He thought Maya was haunting him. But if he was so certain Maya was dead, why the heck hadn’t he been to the police? There was only one answer that made any sense. He killed Maya, and if he killed Maya that meant he killed Beth too.
A shuffling of the crowd drew Poppy’s attention. Someone was pushing through the bodies. Only when he reached the edge of the circle did Michael look up. He stared at her and after knowing him just about all her life his face was unreadable to her. A total blank.
‘Meg and Jonathan, do you promise to be there for each other, no matter what the future brings? Do you promise to always tell each other the truth, and practise kindness towards one another? Do you promise to love each other, now and in eternity?’
‘We do,’ Mum and Jonathan said together.
Michael’s gaze fell to the ground. It felt like he’d l
et go of her hand and she was sinking down to the bottom of the lake. Slowly he turned and excused his way out of the circle. She wanted to cry out for him to stop. She wanted to tell him it had been a joke. Anything that would fix this.
As she lost sight of him, the circle started to spin. The faces and streamers became nothing more than blurs of light and colour. She blinked hard, trying to make it stop, but she couldn’t. In the blur pictures formed: Beth laughing at the sunset, and Maya – her dead double – grinning like she knew; like she knew that Poppy had screwed up everything.
‘And so I bind your hands together, Meg and Jonathan, sealing your destinies for all eternity. May your love for one another bring you, and all whom you love, great joy!’
The crowd cheered. Poppy put her hand to her head as bright lights flashed before her.
‘You may now jump the bride. I mean, the broom!’ Bob’s voice boomed.
There was another cheer and somewhere music started to play.
‘Poppy? Poppy, are you all right?’ Mum was asking.
She took a deep breath and looked into Mum’s face. She looked so filled with happiness that she seemed to glow with it. Poppy forced herself to smile.
‘Oh, Pops, are you crying? And I thought I’d never see the day when you’d cry at a wedding!’
Poppy was dragged into a fierce hug. Mum’s hair tickled her nose; her arm crushed her neck, and yet Poppy felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.
When Mum was done hugging her, Jonathan took his turn, whispering to her that he was sorry they had fought, that knew he would never replace Dad, but he’d always be there for her – whatever she needed.
Poppy nodded and congratulated him, and then found herself face to face with Bob.
‘Aww, Pops, come here and give your old uncle Bob a hug.’ He grinned and held out his arms to her.
Poppy swallowed.
‘What’s the matter?’ Bob asked, frowning.
Mo pushed between them, blocking out Bob. ‘She looks kinda pale to me. Think maybe she’s dehydrated after the sweat.’ Mo hooked an arm around her back. ‘Come on, let’s get you a drink.’