by Nina Milton
“It’s a tricky case is all.”
“You’ve had them before, eh?”
“Once or twice. Nothing to worry about. I’m really sorry about this Alys.”
“And to top that, one of my hens has been taken. Florence. She was my favourite.”
“Taken?”
“Yeah, maybe by a fox, Mr. Reynard Buckley.” I’d met Rey the morning after a fox took three of my chickens last year. In my mind, I’d named the culprit Reynard, after the fairy tale fox. When Rey knocked on my door, I wasn’t at all sure what the universe was trying to tell me—sometimes I still wasn’t.
“That’s the pits.”
I got up and cleared the food away. It meant I could compose myself, get rid of the lump in my throat. I didn’t want Rey thinking I was maudlin over a hen. Meanwhile, he stretched full out on the sofa and put the news back on.
I took my time, swilling the disposables ready for collection and washing the cutlery. I came back with two fresh glasses of wine and leaned against the breakfast bar, right between him and the screen.
“Sabbie, I’m wa—”
“Yes, I know. You’re watching that. Like you live here, or something.”
I had his full attention. “You’re a bit sore. ’Course you are. Nasty business witnessing a sudden death. Important night of the year for you, the solstice. It must have shaken you up.”
“It’s made me think, yes.”
He didn’t reply, but he did have the decency to reach for the remote and turn the TV off.
“I love seeing you, Rey, you know I do. I love you coming here like this, bringing food, sharing normal stuff.”
“You’re saying we’re getting a bit too settled? A bit too ‘telly on the sofa’?”
“I don’t dislike that. We both lead unsettled lives. Neither of us knows when work will finish for the day; heck, I don’t even know when mine will begin. But …” I trailed off. I was hoping he’d start guessing.
“Sabbie, are you trying to tell me something?”
“If you like, yes.”
“Only, I thought we were good. I mean, I thought we were okay, seeing each other whenever we can. I know we don’t go out a lot. I don’t do ‘wine and dine’, you know that. Aren’t you happy? You have to tell me if you’re not happy.”
“Yep. I’m happy. Really—I’m happy.”
“Right.” His hand fingered the remote.
“I see you a lot of you, for a cop. And I’m good with you being here; your place is so small it’s not fit for canine habitation. I love it when you get up in the morning and shower for work, but you’re using up all my toiletries and the team at work must be thinking you smell a bit … flowery.”
He frowned. “You want me to replace the stuff I used? Of course I can—”
“What I want is for you to bring your own.”
“Shower gel?”
“Suitcase.”
“Huh?”
“God, Rey, however do you solve crimes if you can’t unravel the clues? Oh, yeah, of course; you leave it all to Chaisey.”
He frowned. He was still not getting it. “This is about Pippa?”
“Most certainly this is not about Pippa,” I lied. “It’s about us. I’m asking you, oh Detective Inspector, if you fancy moving in with me.”
“Move in?” I watched his face. There was genuine surprise in his eyes. He had not suspected I would ask, had not considered this. I peered closer, looking for some sign that he was pleased. “Well, ah …”
“It would be cheaper.”
“Yeah, I guess …”
“Two can live as cheaply, etcetera, etcetera.”
“You might be right.”
“But I’m not on the nail, am I?”
“What? Oh, well, Sabbie, give me a second to get my head around the idea.”
I waited, one moment, two. Rey didn’t mean a “second.” He meant proper time. Twenty-four hours … a week.
“Do you like the idea? I mean, on principle?”
“Yes.” Finally, I’d squeezed a smile out of my man. “The principle is tempting. Indeed. It’s just … it’s just I have, well, ties.”
And there we had it. The thing I’d suspected all along. Rey was thinking he would have to discuss this with Lesley, who had not been his wife for almost three years. Who had her own life and a partner she lived with. Yet Rey thought of himself as still married. He liked having a girlfriend. He was allowed a girlfriend. Living together was a step too far.
I sat on the sofa and picked up his hand, the one loitering by the remote. “It’s okay. It was just an idea. You know, like in a brainstorm. You put crazy ideas into the pot and throw most of them out again. So just … throw it out.”
“I don’t know if it works like that.”
Something crawled up my spine, something that felt like apprehension. What had I done?
“The thought was there. We threw it out. Gone!” I flashed a smile.
Rey laid his head on my shoulder, then slid it down so that it was resting on my breasts. “Let’s go to bed, huh?”
In the morning, I got up earlier than Rey, before there was any light in the sky. I didn’t even wait for my phone to alarm; I’d been awake for a little while.
I put on the bread machine and took a shower before Rey stole all the hot water. I meditated for twenty minutes. Dawn began to break as I went into the garden. It was going to be a glorious day, I could smell it in the sharp air.
I fed the hens their pellets. There was still no Florence. A pang went through me. I’d been hoping I’d made a mistake about her disappearance; that she’d been hiding under the straw all the time. I recognized the sensation of expecting a miracle to occur and the overwhelming disappointment in remembering that miracles don’t happen. Not this sort, anyway.
I was to blame. The hens were my responsibility, and I was always fobbing them off onto the Wraxalls.
She was one hen, I told myself roughly. Get over it.
I waited until there was full light in the sky before I did the thing I’d so missed doing on the Tor; the Salute to the Sun.
I was in the middle of the yogic postures and the chanting, when I realized Rey was watching me. I jumped as I saw him, staring through the open back door.
“Hi.”
“What’s that you’re doing?”
“Saluting the sun.” I held out a hand. “Join me?”
To my delight, he came out. I showed him the moves and their meaning, and he copied my words, coming in just half a second after me all the way through.
“Oh, shining one, radiant one.”
“… radiant one …”
“Dispeller of darkness and bringer of activity.”
“… activity …”
“Who illuminates, all-pervading, bright one.”
“… all-pervading …”
“Giver of nourishment. Giver of fulfillment. Giver of light with infinite rays.”
“Like me. Infinite Reys!”
“Whose golden brilliance is friendly to all.”
“Friendly to all,” chanted Rey. “Hmm, all, yeah—good and bad alike, I’m sorry to say.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Can you forget being a copper for two sorry seconds?”
Rey thought about this. “Nope. Don’t think so.” He pulled me to him. “I enjoyed that.”
“You were taking the piss out of it.”
He kissed my forehead as if I was a child. “Sabbie, get used to it. I always take the piss.”
eight
laura
At five to eleven, Laura Munroe was outside my door.
“Hi. Come on in.”
Candles guttered as we entered the therapy room. The scent of sage came into my nostrils. I took her over to the wicker chairs to let her get settled. She looked pal
e, but she was a natural mid-blonde, with eyes a faded blue, like late hydrangeas. Yesterday, she’d highlighted them with a little makeup, but today she wore none, which might have been the reason she appeared so wan.
“How are you?”
“Okay. Well, it hasn’t been long, has it?”
I laughed. “You’re right there.” I told her about the dream diary I wanted her to start, then I asked, “Did you find anything for me to get close to your otherworld during my journeys?”
Laura’s face went a little blank. I was sure she hadn’t even bothered to look, which surprised me because it didn’t tally with the desperation coming off her. She dug into a pocket and pulled out her key ring. She detached a little mascot and passed the toy to me. It was made of stuffed felt, with a yellow body, a pink smile, crescent-moon ears, and a little apron of white. The short loop of ribbon which had kept it on the key ring grew from its head. The creature was worn and a little grubby. Loved, in other words. It felt weightless in my palm.
Suddenly it clicked. “Pokémon!”
“Yeah. I was potty about it when I was a kid. This was my favourite, Raichu. Don’t know why, except it took me a long time to get this one evolved, so maybe that’s it.”
I was trying to remember how the game went, but it probably didn’t matter too much.
“He used to hang above my bed. When I packed to go away, I knew I couldn’t take kids’ stuff, but I reckoned Raichu didn’t count; he was small enough to get hidden somewhere. Hitch a ride, like. Will he do?”
“Definitely. You chose him above all others to accompany you on your adventures.”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Sixteen is early to leave home. What made you go?”
“Er … poor exam results, mostly. I hated school. I only did well in sport and I’ve always loved boats. All my happiest memories are of boats. Living in Weston, you see a lot of them, mostly out on the Channel, moving towards Avonmouth to unload, but people have Ribs or motorboats, so I was always able to cadge a trip out. I got good at it. It seemed a natural way to go.”
“What did your parents feel about the Royal Navy?”
Laura was silent for a while, not because she was refusing to answer, more that she was remembering and it had stoppered her.
“They didn’t want me to go but they had to sign, because I was a minor.”
“They must be relieved to have you back safe.”
A spasm crossed her face. “I’m not safe, am I?”
I nodded slowly. I didn’t want to diminish her fears as groundless. “I’d like us to undertake a journey together, to start our work.” I gestured to the sets of floor cushions I’d arranged and explained to Laura how I would use my plaited cord, as the Lady of the River had directed me. I held out the white, green, and brown silk plait to show her.
“We will both go into the otherworld. Linked to you, I will be able to find your otherworld and start working out what the spirits want us to do. Linked to me, Laura, you might find your power animal.”
“I don’t think I’ve got a power animal.”
“You’ve probably got more than one. I believe we all have otherworld guides and guardians, right through our life. When I tell
people this, they often say, well, yes, I do have an affinity with this animal or that; they remember moments when an animal tried to communicate with them. So today, when we journey with my silken cord, I’d like you to see what happens.”
“Wooo, scary,” she said, leaning back. Then she thought for a moment. “Why should that be scary?”
“It’s not, but it’s good to be cautious.” I spent a little time explaining how she should build a safe portal into her otherworld. “I want you to flesh it out, add to it, explore it. Don’t forget to look behind you, as new journeyers often do. Don’t go wandering off, though. Stay safe. All you have to do is wait for your power animal to arrive. They mostly come up from the Lower Realms, so knocking can help summon them, or stamping with your foot. Ask any animal who arrives, ‘Are you my power animal?’ When you get the right response, you’ll know.”
“Okay. Let’s go for it.”
I gave her a scarf to cover her eyes and draped the cord round both our wrists. I settled myself by placing the little Pokémon mascot on my solar plexus, one hand over it. The drumming CD led me into my shaman’s portal, the stream glittering and chattering over its bed of stones.
“Trendle?”
I caught the brightness of my otter’s eyes in the thicket of willows on the other side of the brook.
To get across, I would have to feel my way through the rush of water. I pulled my black dress up high and stepped in. It was almost up to my knees, especially where it pooled around and spat at me. The bottom was uneven; gravel that cut into my soles and slippy stones that were poorly balanced. As I contended with this, a tune song came into my head, deep gritty guitar chords with a slow beat.
I had to let go of my skirt to scramble up the bank, and the hem got wet. I could feel it slap against my ankles as I made for the thicket of thin willows. I blamed the tune revolving in my mind. I shook my ears to get rid of it.
In the thicket I passed an old-fashioned wooden fingerpost, the outline of a pointing hand with a single finger reaching out. I was sure it hadn’t been here before. I pushed through the willows in the direction it pointed, bare twigs scratching at my arms and tangling my hair. I kept going until I found a path leading alongside the stream. I was sure this was the same stream that flowed through my safe haven, but here a wall of rocks rose up, as if the stream lay at the bottom of a gorge. I spotted Trendle’s strong tail, flashing as he trotted ahead. The same catchy tune was in my head, people singing, their harmonies close and the guitar riffs powerfully measured to a drumbeat that worked well with the drum on my CD.
I often heard music in my journeys. Sometimes it’s the music of the spheres, but this was off-putting—a pop tune I couldn’t identify and I couldn’t get rid of.
I rounded the bend. Ahead of me, water gushed down a crevice into the stream. To go farther, I would have to cross the foaming waterfall. I looked up, hoping for some help. Almost hidden by the fall of water was a slashed opening in the gorge wall, as high as a man and only slightly wider than my shoulders. I eased myself in and looked around. Daylight fell on sheer stone walls; no moss or ferns on damp ledges, no stalactites or odd-shaped boulders. No bats leaving their sleeping space.
“Trendle?” His yellow eyes flashed in the darkness. The tunnel of the cave curved slightly and after a few more footsteps the light disappeared. I could see nothing.
“Far enough for today,” said Trendle. He turned and made for the entrance, swift on little legs. His silhouette flickered like a shadow against the dull cave wall. Then he was gone, leaving me in total darkness.
“Trendle,” I called. “Trendle come back, guide me out. Trendle!”
In my distress I called his name aloud. The trance lifted. I lay on my back for a few seconds, waiting for my heart to steady. I pulled the scarf from my eyes and unwound the braid from my wrist, but didn’t disturb Laura. I sat crossed-legged for a minute or two, thinking about the journey, my fingers laced round my toes to keep them warm.
I’d never found the waterfall and cave before, and I believed I’d successfully reached Laura’s otherworld.
I tried to get the tune I’d heard back into my head, but it had gone. In Laura’s notebook, I wrote out the few lyrics I’d hummed but could not place.
Laura stirred herself naturally and came over to the desk holding the cord out to me. I passed her a notebook. “The account of the journey is in here.”
She sat with a thump, staring at the book in her hand but unable to open it. “What, is it like a story?”
“I don’t always experience a story, sometimes I see an imaginary landscape, or have a long conversation with a spirit guide. This time my journey was c
hocked full of symbolism. I’m hoping some will mean something to you. And I’d like to blow the images I have into your subtle body … what some people call their aura … so that you can intuitively start to make sense of them.”
She didn’t open the notebook. My account was the unknown, and that was a fearful thing.
“There were four symbols,” I went on. “A fingerpost—I’ve drawn a representation on the page for you; a waterfall—the thin, mare’s-tail type, falling a great height; and a cave right behind the waterfall. And a tune—I only picked up a snatch of the lyrics. I didn’t know the song and I’ve already forgotten the way it goes.”
Finally Laura opened the notebook. I gave her time to read through what I’d put, but she looked up almost immediately, and her face, which had been pinched with uncertainty, lit up. “‘Shape Shifter!’” The smile glowed from her eyes.
“Pardon?”
“I know this song. It’s by one of my favourite groups. Local Natives.”
“I’ve never heard of them.
“They are still a bit underground over here. Big in the States. I just love their sound, sort of fusion of pop and folk and soul. I used to play that album, Gorilla Manor, over and over on board the ship. You need slowish stuff because there’s no room to dance about.”
“Local Natives.” I felt relief that the song was real and delight that Laura recognized it. It meant I could be certain I’d been in Laura’s otherworld.
“I got to see them in Portugal, while we were stationed at Gibraltar. They were mammoth.”
“Laura, are you saying the song is called ‘Shape Shifter’?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Would shape shifting mean anything to you, outside that song?”
“No, nothing.”
It felt far more than a coincidence, so soon after the aborted shape-shifting workshop, and I wondered if the lyrics had been offered to me simply to bind me and Laura closer, make us a team.