♥
Gurtha saw Cornelia first, leaning against the yellow Mercedes, looking up into a heavy grey sky threatening rain. Henry stood at her side holding a matching yellow umbrella with pink hearts above Cornelia’s head. A few drops of rain fell on top of his abundantly curling hair. From a distance he looked majestic – tall, well built, broad shoulders, radiating a sense of energy and presence. They were appropriately dressed for a mountain hike – both wearing black waterproof trousers and red Gore-Tex jackets.
Cornelia walked towards Gurtha. Henry followed, stretching his arm with the umbrella above her to keep her dry.
“Gurtha, meet Henry.”
They shook hands. At first sight, Gurtha liked Henry. What impressed him were his huge brown eyes - they had a steadiness about them which made Gurtha feel at ease. They bundled into the car with Gurtha in the back seat.
Henry looked into the mirror at Gurtha and asked.
“What are you reading?”
Gurtha answered. “Psychology, Spanish and History.”
“Which do you like best?”
“Psychology and History are quite similar. We explore the motivation of key characters in history and what made them do what they did. Psychology helps a lot with that – using different vocabulary but looking at similar patterns of behaviour. I like them equally and Spanish is wonderful as Spain has an intriguing history and culture. Did you know that at one point in time Spain was the wealthiest nation in the world?”
Henry continued to keep his eyes on Gurtha using the mirror.
“Nope. I didn’t know that. That must have been before my holidays to Magaluf.”
Cornelia slapped him on the arm.
“You’ve never been on holiday in Magaluf.”
Gurtha interrupted. “How long have you been working at the Bank?”
“Twenty years. I was working there before you were born. That’s why I look the way I do.”
“I was a baby of three when he started.” Cornelia pulled the mirror down and tucked a few loose hairs behind her ears.
“Do you like it?”
“Not until I met Cornelia. I have to thank the bank for that. If it hadn’t been for the bank, we would never have met.”
Cornelia looked over her shoulder at Gurtha and smiled, “Yes. I was his Personal Assistant until he gave me the opportunity to become a student, for which I am eternally grateful.”
She patted Henry’s leather glove on the steering wheel.
“Our life is meticulously planned and controlled. Henry will receive a handsome pension when he retires.”
Henry rubbed his nose with the back of his leather glove, “I must confess to enjoying the finer things in life. A hefty pension will allow us to ensure we are tucked into a comfortable elegant duvet. However, please Cornelia – let us remember that is some years away. Between now and then, is the hard graft of working to ensure I can keep you in the style you have rather unfortunately become accustomed to.”
Cornelia gave a little laugh, glancing over her shoulder at Gurtha.
“I so love a man who removes the burden from living. I can concentrate on my English literature, gaze at my navel, enquiring into the nature of life.”
Henry beeped the horn as a lamb wandered onto the road. It scurried onto the verge to the right.
“That would make a wonderful supper – slow cooked in red wine with thyme, rosemary and garlic for at least four hours.”
♥
At nine forty five Henry pulled into the car park of ‘The Green Man’. The rain fell heavily onto the front windscreen. Henry turned the wipers to sweep frantically backwards and forwards, Cornelia leaned forward, wiped the mist on the inside of the window with a tissue and broke the silence, “There we go. Andrew and Bosie are predictably on time.
Cornelia and Henry climbed out of the car to shake hands with Andrew and Bosie. Gurtha waited inside listening to the drops of rain splashing into the car park puddles, sending ripples shimmering across the small pools of water.
“We will be back here by four o’clock latest.”
The first two hours of the hike went more or less to plan. Cornelia packed two flasks of tea, with Kendal mint cake and egg mayonnaise sandwiches which were shared around one o’clock. Gurtha, Andrew and Bosie had brought a small bottle of water each. They drank all three bottles one hour into the walk. The sweet tea was welcome as the temperatures dropped as they reached the top of the Dyke.
“Where do you think we are?” Cornelia passed the map to Bosie who shared it with Andrew.
“There’s the trig point.” Bosie pointed to the stone marker a few feet away.
“That must mean that we are here.” He pointed to a dot on the map.
“Are you sure?” Cornelia stood beside him and peered at the map.
“That means we’re making slower progress than I calculated. Are we not here?” Cornelia pointed to a second trig point further along the path.
“Definitely not. We’re here. Look – there’s the path signposted down to Llanthony Abbey. You can see the cliffs marked here.” Bosie took out a piece of string from his pocket and traced out the path towards Hay.
“We need to walk faster if we are to arrive in Hay before dark. It’s twice as far as we’ve come so far. Do we have a torch?”
Cornelia nodded, searching her rucksack and pulled out a small hand torch. She turned it on and it shone a yellow feeble light on her hand.
“I think the battery is low. Did you bring batteries, Henry?”
Henry shook his head tightening the scarf around his neck.
“I think you left them in the old rucksack. Do you remember?”
Cornelia shook her head.
“We better get moving then.”
Gurtha got to his feet and led the way along the path. Andrew had lent him a lightweight waterproof but the rain still soaked through to his fleece. There was only a light breeze but it was cold – the temperature was not much above freezing. His jeans were heavy with rain and his trainers covered in mud. The breeze touching his face had a hint of sleet in it. He shivered. The path deteriorated as it widened out on top. It was difficult to see exactly where to walk. The narrow path with muddy footsteps from other walkers had degenerated into soft mud with the occasional tuft of heather flourishing within puddle of cold murky water. Leading the way, Gurtha shouted to those following,
“It’s turning into a bog. Walk on the clumps of heather. The puddles are pot holes.”
As if to prove the point, with his next step, he missed the heather clump he was aiming for and his foot sank into the muddy water all the way up to his thigh. Bosie behind, attempted to avoid doing the same but nearly all the pools of water were at least a foot deep. Everyone walked slowly. At the back, Cornelia slid her arm around Henry’s, stumbling twice within a few seconds. They were making slow progress towards Hay. Andrew counselled from the back, “We need to get off the mountain or we are going to be stranded.”
Gurtha stopped, waiting for everyone to huddle in a circle.
Bosie’s face and hands were mottled blue and red. He had forgotten to bring gloves. He rubbed his hands together to get the circulation moving.
Gurtha pulled his gloves off,
“Wear these, Bosie.”
Blowing on his fingertips held close to his mouth, Bosie reached for the gloves.
“For a few minutes and you can have them back.”
“There are cliffs here,” Cornelia commented, referring to the map she shared with Henry.
“I can’t see a way down.”
“What’s that?” Andrew pointed to a small path no wider than a single boot width, snaking through the rocks.
“It’s a sheep track. If we try to go down and it runs out, we will be lost.” Henry squinted at the map, holding it close to his face.
“There’s no marked path. I say we go back to the trig point and take the marked path down to Llanthony Abbey.”
“How do we then get to Hay?” Cornelia snatched the m
ap from Henry.
“If there are no taxis, we stay the night in Llanthony Abbey and walk along the valley floor to Hay tomorrow morning.”
“Our suitcases are in Andrew’s car.” Cornelia wiped mascara running down her face with her leather glove.
Henry stated calmly, “Let’s take a reality check. We have no food, no water, the light is already dropping, a torch with batteries running out and we are experiencing extreme cold.”
Cornelia took several deep breaths, removed her rucksack, opened it, pulling out two aluminium sheets.
“We’ve two survival blankets.”
“We are five people,” Henry said, taking the survival blanket from Cornelia and wrapping it into a smaller square, he replaced it in the rucksack.
“It will be dark before we find Llanthony Abbey.” Cornelia’s voice quivered.
“Let’s not waste time. Let’s try the sheep track.” Henry took the lead pointing to a small path winding into the valley.
With the help of the fading light from the torch, they descended one behind another towards Llanthony. An hour later, Llanthony Abbey lay a hundred feet below.
With the light of the moon, they could see four arches – holding a silvery light within the darkness. There was a warmer orange light to the left in a small building from which flowed the sound of voices.
“We’re nearly there.” Henry increased his pace. Within fifteen minutes they arrived at the doorway of the pub at Llanthony Abbey.
“We’ve made it.” Cornelia turned and embraced Henry. “Look at the state of us. You would think that we had made that expedition to the Bolivian jungle.”
The scent of chargrilled chicken and lasagne filled the air. Tables made from oak were scattered with white candles held in wrought iron spiral holders. Henry followed after Cornelia and then Gurtha, Andrew and Bosie. The restaurant noise levels fell as diners observed them and whispered to one another, as Cornelia asked the waiter,
“What time do you stop serving food?”
He looked at his watch, “In five minutes.”
Cornelia pointed to an empty table at the bottom of the dining room, “Could you bring the menus. Henry, I’ll order for you. You sort out accommodation.”
They sat around an oak table – all four covered in mud up to the waist – all four soaking wet. Cornelia removed her Gore-Tex coat.
“Remove whatever you can, retaining as much decency as possible. At least it is beautifully, wonderfully warm in here.”
With food orders placed, Henry pushed open the door leading from Reception, stripping off his coat before reaching their table.
“We’re sorted. I’m ravishing.”
Cornelia opened a compact from a pocket in her rucksack and inspected her face. She patted Henry on the shoulder.
“Do you not think I’m the one who’s ravishing? Although I’m sure we’re all ‘famished’.”
Afterwards, having coffee by an open log fire, Gurtha opened the Visitors’ Book and read the last entry.
“This sounds curious. Someone has written that this place is … ‘A mystical, magical place which will transform you overnight in the most mysterious of ways’. What do you think?”
Bosie sniggered.
“Not that I’m an expert in hotels, but I would say this place is basic and bloody freezing. I’m not complaining. It’s better than being stranded on the mountain.”
Gurtha gazed into the fire as the burning logs spat sizzling sparks onto the tiled floor.
“Let’s see.”
♥
Gurtha lay in bed listening. There was nothing to hear only thick silence like a blanket around him. Then, the silence was broken by the sound of wind rattling the metal window frames and heavy rain with hailstones furiously pounding at the window.
He listened. He imagined that he heard a gentle, yet insistent tap, tap, tap, inside. It persisted. Tap, tap, tap. Gentle knuckles tapping on a hard oak door. Tap, tap, tap on his bedroom door.
He pulled on the t-shirt he had worn during the day and scrambled into damp jeans before opening the door.
Cornelia stood outside. Gurtha scanned her face. She had no make-up. He wasn’t used to seeing her face bare, lips empty of gloss and hair slightly tousled.
Cornelia’s hands were dropped by her side. She stood in bare feet, wearing Henry’s shirt. Gurtha’s heart thumped against his rib cage. He breathed deeply before asking,
“What’s happened?”
Cornelia touched the door as she stepped into the room as if to steady herself.
“Nothing and everything.”
Gurtha followed her, stubbing his toe against the iron bed. He bent to rub his big toe.
“Is Henry OK?”
Cornelia walked as if in her sleep towards the bed.
“Henry is exhausted.”
At first she sat on top of the bed, sinking into the fluffed up Nordic quilt. She then swung her legs onto the bed and lay with her head on the pillow. She rolled onto her side and leaning with one hand on her cheek, as Gurtha rushed back to close the door, she asked,
“Would you mind if I took my clothes off?”
Gurtha’s heart thumped wildly, yet he managed a gentle tone to his question.
“Why?”
Cornelia slid off the bed, unbuttoning Henry’s shirt.
“Purity of intent. If you know what I mean? Clothes can be a disguise.”
Gurtha nodded.
She slithered naked under the quilt.
“Please. Keep your clothes on.”
Gurtha pulled off his t-shirt off, discarding his jeans on the floor. He climbed into the bed beneath the quilt.
“Purity of intent is mutual.”
Staring at the ceiling, Cornelia inched closer. Gurtha asked, “You are not to be touched, I take it.”
Cornelia laughed,
“I knew you would understand. However, I can touch you.”
Gurtha nodded with his eyes closed as Cornelia ran her fingers gently across his forehead, then she drew a line above his eyebrows before lightly caressing his nose, and tracing her fingers along his cheek bones.
“Don’t think. Allow yourself to feel the touch, smell and taste it. You have ways of doing that. Find them. No-one experiences anything in the same way.”
Gurtha breathed deeply. There was a smooth white light behind his closed eyes which shimmered into waves at Cornelia’s touch. He listened to her words which floated into the light breaking it up into scintillations of white and black.
“You adore me don’t you?”
Without waiting for a response, she continued stroking his forehead.
“Do you accept that we all hold holiness and horror within us at the same time?”
Gurtha smelt perfume like honeysuckle on a hot summer’s evening. The pillow was soft; the sheets silk-like and cool against his skin.
“Holiness and horror?”
“Yes, exactly that. Can you adore that combination? If you can’t you don’t really adore me.”
Gurtha felt the touch of her fingers tracing his lips.
“You’re married to Henry.”
“I am, but it changes nothing…”
Gurtha rolled onto his side opening his eyes. Cornelia covered her face with the cotton sheet. Gurtha asked, “What do you want from me?”
Cornelia whispered, “I’ll think about it.”
“What about Henry?”
Cornelia rolled away from him. With her back to Gurtha she whispered, “There will be nothing to tell. It will be a cleansing, purifying relationship for us both. It will be ‘Nothing and Everything’. Do you not feel it? Do you not feel the ‘Nothing’ which I have with Henry and the ‘Everything’ which I have with you?”
Gurtha shook his head.
“I don’t.”
Cornelia took his hand.
“It’s simple. With Henry there is security. With you there is innocence and adventure.”
Gurtha opened his eyes, without looking at Cornelia, “What am I expec
ted to do?”
“Nothing more than to stay innocent and childlike.”
She lifted the golden plait embedded within her shiny black bob. Then began to caress it. She let it fall onto her shoulder.
Gurtha touched it.
“I noticed this the first time we met. It’s striking. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It suits you.”
Cornelia rolled onto her side with her back to Gurtha.
“It’s a lock of my sister’s hair. She died when I was ten and she was seven. She was my best friend. This is to remind me always of her. She’s with me.”
Gurtha stroked the plait.
“How did she die?”
Cornelia turned over, pressing her face into the pillow.
“It was an accident. I don’t like to talk about it.”
He felt her slip from beneath the sheets. She dressed before placing a finger over his lips.
“Have courage to stay fearless like a child.”
He watched her turn the knob on the door and glance at him once more before gently closing the door behind her. The wind increased in intensity, howling a slow, low moan.
♥
Gurtha entered the breakfast room first at around eight thirty. The other guests had not emerged from sleep. A woman swept the floor with a long bristle brush. It made a scratching sound as it moved over the red tiles. Sunlight beamed through the window to his right. Dust rose up into the beam of light and was held there, curling and moving in circles. The woman, dressed in white with a long cotton skirt which reached to the floor, kept her head bent, intently sweeping. It was a scene of ageless peace. Gurtha imagined the monks sitting at the wooden bench, their heads bent in prayer, while the sweeping would have taken place in the same way, with the same golden light beam holding the clouds of dust in a mesmerising display of minute movement.
The woman raised her gaze, “Would you like to wait for your friends or would you like to eat now?”
Gurtha slid along the wooden bench, folded his arms on the oak table, “I’ll wait, thank you.”
Ten minutes later, all four of them arrived, talking and laughing as they entered the dining room.
Bosie and Andrew joined Gurtha on his side of the table. Cornelia and Henry sat opposite. Helping himself to wheaten bread which sat in baskets along the table, Bosie was the first to speak, “Did you hear the storm last night? How lucky were we to find this place? I’ve never had a better night’s sleep in my life. Maybe it was made better by thinking about what it could have been like on that mountain.”
The Secret Wound Page 12