Yet nothing appeared to slow down her progress, and as she approached the fence on the opposite side of the fields, she saw a flash of red speed past.
‘Yes, I thought so, you are returning home!’
With renewed resolve, Lucinda pressed onwards, scrambling over the fence with ungainly ease in time to see Matthew scramble back into his car a little way along the lane, and then the car disappeared through the gates of Four Oaks.
Lucinda walked towards the gates and paused as the wind dropped suddenly. Halting just outside the boundary of the estate, almost as though some physical energy prevented her from proceeding, she grimaced, moaning softly as if in pain, but the moment passed and she continued onwards through the gates.
‘Can I help you, Miss?’
The sudden strangely high-pitched male voice from behind startled her and brought her to a halt just inside the gates. She turned, to find a rather robust young man with black hair standing a short distance behind her. He was incongruously dressed in an immaculate dark suit, and did not appear unduly affected by the rain.
Lucinda faltered uncertainly. She frowned, and looked around at her surroundings fearfully, uncomfortably aware that she was soaked to the skin. ‘Where am I?’
‘You are trespassing on private property!’
Lucinda stepped back through the gates. ‘I am so sorry, I didn’t realise, Mister…’
‘Revenant. My name is Max Revenant.’
‘Well, I am very sorry, Mister Revenant. I didn’t mean to trespass on your property. To be honest, I don’t even know how I came to be here.’
Max stepped hesitantly closer. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, I won’t tell anyone. It’s not my property though. I am the estate agent who has been dealing with the transferral of deeds from Elaine Oakhurst’s estate to that of Matthew Silverthorne. I am supposed to be meeting him here to sign a few pieces of paperwork.’
‘Oh right,’ muttered Lucinda, clamping a hand suddenly to her forehead.
Max stepped closer in concern. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’ he asked, reaching out as if to touch her shoulder.
‘What?’ Lucinda gasped, shuddering as mental images from some other place distracted her as they flashed into her mind without warning. She did not notice as Max snatched his hand back quickly. ‘Yes, I’m fine, I think. I just have a bit of a headache.’
‘Perhaps you would be better off returning home then, Miss?’ Max suggested helpfully.
‘Yes, I think you might be right.’
Lucinda passed by the young estate agent and started walking down the lane. She halted in her tracks. ‘Hang on a minute, since when do estate agents deal with the estates of dead people?’ she cried, turning to face Max sharply.
She was astonished to discover he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Hello? Mister Revenant?’ she called.
There was no response except for the wind, which returned as suddenly as it had outside the pub.
Lucinda backed away, then turned and ran down the twisting lane, not pausing for breath until she reached The Green Woman Inn.
‘Coward!’ she snapped. ‘You could have taken him with ease.’
Still, there would be plenty of time to deal with the wretched child, who had once more returned to the scene of the crime.
‘Now I know you’ve returned at last, vengeance shall be mine!’
*
Louise was in the back garden cutting back the shrubs, making the most of the brief respite in the rain and lost in the silence of the morning, when the discordant noise of the telephone made her jump. She ran into the cottage, pulling off her gardening gloves as she reached for the telephone.
‘Hello?’ she said, setting down the gloves and secateurs.
‘Hello darling.’
She smiled. ‘Hi Mum, how are you?’
‘I’m very well thanks,’ said Susan on the other end of the line. ‘Is it all right if your father and I pop by later with a couple of visitors?’
‘Yes of course it is. Who are you bringing? Rachel?’
Susan chuckled. ‘No darling, it’s not Rachel. I’m not telling you who it is, either. It’ll be a surprise.’
‘A pleasant one, I hope!’ muttered Louise with a smile. ‘What time are you coming?’
‘May we stay for lunch?’
‘Of course you can. I’ve always got plenty of food in, and the children are at school, so it’ll be peaceful.’
‘Is Phil there?’
‘No, he’s meeting new clients this morning. His landscape gardening business is really taking off in a big way. He’s getting new work all the time. At this rate we’re going to need even more staff.’
‘How many people does he employ now?’
‘Six, at the moment, but with all this extra work I think that’ll have to double.’ Louise frowned. Though her mother liked Phil well enough, she had never shown any interest in his work.
Gardening had always been his forte, and since leaving Scotland, he had gradually established himself as a gardener, first in Neville Hill, before expanding his area and adding staff to help. Word of mouth spread his name rapidly, and Phil McFadyen became the much sought after byword for a well-designed garden. His fees commanded upwards of ten thousand pounds once he established his reputation as an exceptional landscape gardener, and he was frequently turning work down around the county due to time constraints.
Students graduating from University who wanted to achieve his status frequently begged to be given the chance to prove themselves within his company, and he was as selective about whom he took on as an apprentice as he was about which jobs he accepted.
Three of his apprentices worked full time for him at the nursery he owned in nearby Edenbridge, cultivating a huge variety of plants that were hardy to the inclement British weather, including a large number, once prolific in Britain, which had been gradually dying out in the wild over the Centuries.
The fact that Susan had suddenly developed an interest in Phil’s work caused suspicion to rear its head in Louise’s mind. ‘What’s going on, Mum?’ she demanded in as level a voice as she could manage.
‘Nothing,’ Susan retorted, a little too hastily. ‘It’s just a pity Phil won’t be there. I could do with him being around when we arrive.’
Louise arched an eyebrow. ‘Oh. Any particular reason?’ she asked, gripping the telephone receiver tighter.
Susan sighed deeply. ‘It’s probably best not to go into details over the phone, darling. Better to wait until we get there. We’ll aim to be with you around midday, if that’s all right?’
‘Yes, that’ll be fine. I have to admit, you have intrigued me now, Mum.’
Louise did not bother returning to the garden when she hung up. Her mother’s call perplexed her, and she could not begin to wonder who the mysterious visitors were.
Her nerves were beginning to fray, and at midday, she found herself peering eagerly through the front window as she heard a car pull up outside, almost shrieking with delight when she saw Lesley coming up the path ahead of her parents, followed by another woman who so resembled Lesley that she could only be her sister. Louise recalled that she had met Lesley’s sister only once, many years ago, but could not remember her name.
She rushed to open the front door, and she and Lesley embraced warmly. ‘Lesley, I didn’t expect it to be you, coming with Mum and Dad!’ she cried. ‘You’ve already been down once this summer, after all.’
Lesley smiled at her. ‘I know. I hadn’t planned on coming back again this year, but my sister came to see me on a personal matter, which brought me back down.’ She stepped to one side, beckoning forward the other woman. ‘This is Joyce.’
‘Hello Joyce,’ said Louise, smiling warmly as she reached out to briefly hug her. ‘I think we met once, many years ago.’
‘Did we?’ murmured Joyce, pleased at the friendly reception.
‘I came to visit Lesley once when we were teenagers. You were getting ready to go out on a date.’
Joyce s
miled apologetically. ‘I’m afraid you have a much better memory than I, my dear. Sorry to say, I don’t recall meeting you.’
‘There’s no reason why you should. I only remember because it was the only time I ever visited your family home, and also the only time I met any of Lesley’s family.’ Louise bent close to Joyce’s ear. ‘I couldn’t remember your name though,’ she whispered, ‘so we’re even!’
Joyce chuckled. ‘That’s all right; I’m hopeless at remembering names and faces anyway.’ As she trailed behind the others into the cottage, she paused to remove her shoes. It was a reflexive move; something she had always done, ever since as a child, when she visited a maiden aunt, her mother insisted she remove her muddy shoes. On each subsequent visit, Joyce automatically removed her shoes, and then found herself doing the same whenever she visited the homes of her friends.
‘This is an absolutely lovely cottage, Louise,’ she said as she followed Lesley – who had only removed her own shoes when she saw her sister doing so – through the living room into the kitchen, where Louise was already busying herself at the sink. ‘It’s deceptively spacious.’
‘Thank you,’ Louise said with an appreciative smile as she finished washing her hands. ‘This house dates back to the Seventeenth Century. It was built on the site of Neville Manor, which was the ancestral home of Isabella Neville, the Sixteenth Century writer.’
‘Didn’t Gloria Schofield live here, before her disappearance?’
Susan glanced up from where she was preparing a pot of tea. ‘Joyce wants to hear about Gloria and Allan, darling.’
Louise dried her hands and glanced from her mother to Joyce, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway. ‘Is there any particular reason you wish to talk about them?’ She tried to avoid talking about such events, even to her parents, having had her brother die at an early age a year after losing her best friend in bizarre circumstances,. Not talking about them made it slightly easier to deal with; not talking about it meant she could pretend Allan and Gloria were merely living far away with no means of communication.
If she started talking about them and events that had occurred all those years ago then she would have to admit that they were gone and would not be coming back.
Peter’s reappearance she could just about deal with; Gloria and Allan’s deaths she could not. It still haunted her, even fifteen years later.
‘I have a strong suspicion that my son’s boyfriend has been possessed by a spirit,’ said Joyce after a few moments. Suddenly feeling rather self-conscious, she realised she had to go through with this now she had come this far. She was only trying to help Matthew, after all, and Theo too, admittedly. She was glad he had not wished to accompany them to the cottage, choosing instead to spend time browsing Crowborough’s shops, and without him around she freely told Louise everything that she had already told Lesley and Susan, and even telling it a third time made it sound no less ridiculous.
‘Why are you telling me all of this?’ asked Louise, having listened intently, whilst at the same time reheating a pot of homemade vegetable soup she had prepared that morning.
‘Lesley told me about what happened to Gloria and your brother, and what happened to you. She felt you might be able to give me guidance on how to find out whether Matthew is possessed or not.’
‘Because I was taken over by the Seer?’
Joyce nodded. ‘But your mother thinks your husband would be a better person to speak to.’
Louise turned to face Susan. ‘You told her about Phil, after I asked you to speak to no-one about it!’
‘Darling, I didn’t think it would matter, with Joyce being the sister of one of your friends who already knew about it all, and under the circumstances, considering what she has just told us, and thinking of what you said Peter Neville told you through Phil, do you not see a possible connection?’
‘What connection?’ asked Joyce with a frown. ‘What are you talking about?’
With a sigh, Louise turned off the heat and stopped stirring the soup. She faced the others and falteringly told the gathered group all about the foretold return of Sawyl Gwilym and about his lair on the slopes of Wicca Hill. ‘The village of Elendale, where this house Four Oaks is situated, is itself located right on the edge of Wicca Hill. It seems likely that Sawyl Gwilym, if he really has found a way to return, will manifest himself near to his lair. Perhaps we could find out some of the history of the house, to see whether it has some direct connection to the warlock at some point in history.’
Joyce was aghast at the sudden implication. She had firmly believed that if Matthew really were possessed, then it would be by a benign spirit. However, now it seemed highly likely that he was under the influence of one of the most evil men imaginable.
‘Peter will be able to tell us,’ Louise said with a reassuring smile, though she was not at all happy that they might have located the vengeful spirit. ‘A possessed person can see any spirits that might be hiding in other people, so we just have to find a way of getting close to this friend of your son’s, and Peter will be able to tell whether he is possessed by Sawyl, or by some other spirit.’
‘So your husband really is possessed then?’ gasped Joyce. ‘Does that not freak you out at all?’
Louise chuckled slightly. ‘I could pretend to be nonchalant about it and say it doesn’t affect me in any way, but I’d be a liar, and a terrible one at that. It scares the hell out of me, because Peter Neville appears completely without warning.’
‘This spirit, Peter Neville, he comes and goes at will?’ queried Joyce. ‘He takes control of your husband as and when he sees fit? Do you not find that rather alarming? What kind of person, whether they are dead or not, chooses without compunction to take over the body of someone else?’
‘He does so to warn of impending danger,’ muttered Louise defensively, though Joyce could tell the same thoughts had clearly gone through her mind, perhaps on more than one occasion.
‘And what of the other spirits I have heard mentioned?’
‘They all have a purpose, I am sure,’ replied Louise. She stared at her mother. ‘It’s really weird, talking about this with other people as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, when really the opposite is true.’
‘I agree, darling,’ sighed Susan, ‘But it would seem these possessions are not merely limited to our area. If Sawyl possesses this man Matthew, you would have thought there would have to be some sort of connection to this area. I know Matthew has just inherited Four Oaks,’ she added hastily, catching Joyce’s eye, ‘but that hardly connects him to the area.’
‘He was here last year,’ Joyce murmured, barely able to face anyone. ‘He came here to view Four Oaks when it was for sale, but he was unsuccessful. The woman who has bequeathed it to him purchased it. Does that not strike you as particularly odd?’
Susan and Louise both agreed there was definitely something peculiar going on, but they could still not decide how Sawyl had managed to return – if indeed Peter’s premonition was true.
‘Lesley, can I ask you something about Ravenscreag?’ Louise asked after they had sat in silence for a few moments.
‘Sure, Lou, what’s on your mind?’
‘Well, has anything… odd… happened recently?’
‘Odd? In what way?’
Louise sighed. ‘In any way? We’re trying to work out how Sawyl Gwilym cheated death.’
‘Surely he has just been reincarnated again?’ said Lesley, interrupting her friend. ‘Didn’t you say that last time his spirit was reincarnated into the body of Phil’s sister?’
Louise nodded. ‘That’s perfectly true, but for his spirit to be reborn, his receptive body must be whole.’
Lesley’s eyes widened in appalled shock at the intimation. ‘Oh my God, I’m not going to like where this story’s going, am I?’
‘Probably not. Mary Turner knew that when Wilma died it would be only a matter of time before Sawyl was reborn again, so she made quite certain he would be unable to do so.’<
br />
Lesley held up her hand, silencing Louise. ‘Actually, I don’t need to hear the rest. I can guess what Mary did, but I’d rather remember her as that sweet old lady I met at Rachel and Jeremy’s house than as a butcher.’
‘If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t actually Mary who… did the deed. She made someone else do it.’
‘Not you!’ gasped Lesley.
Louise shook her head. ‘No, but under the influence of the Seer, I feel I could have done so. The two parts of her body were kept separate. You haven’t unearthed the head?’
‘No! Don’t you think I’d have mentioned such a gruesome discovery?’
‘I guess so, but that was the only explanation I could come up with.’
‘Has it occurred to anyone that perhaps this vile man’s spirit departed that poor girl before her body was cleaved in two?’
Everyone turned to face Joyce, who had been listening intently to the exchange in silence. She glanced from her sister to Louise. ‘Well, you only mentioned the possibility of reincarnation when you spoke of the girl’s body, but up until now we’ve been talking about possession. Perhaps this Sawyl was only possessing the girl, and in the short space of time between her death and actually cutting her body in two, his spirit fled.’
It was such an obvious suggestion that Louise almost laughed. ‘I could kick myself for not thinking of that before,’ she said. ‘If that’s true, then we know how the warlock is able to live again, but to my knowledge, for a spirit to be able to fully possess someone then the new host has to have some direct link to the invasive spirit. The question becomes, does Matthew have a connection to Sawyl? We’re right back where we started again.’
‘Matthew’s actually moved into Four Oaks,’ said Joyce. ‘I’m not only the mother of his boyfriend, but I’m also his cleaning lady. It would seem to me that he might just be in need of my services at this house.’
The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2) Page 11