The armoire creaks open and my heart goes into some kind of fit. I exchange the shotgun for a pair of leather gloves, a bunch of mistletoe and a rowan stake. My hands still sting but it’s not as painful as it would be without the protection of leather. I hold tight and then I step up into the wardrobe. My reflection smiles at me and I give it the finger before stepping through and punching it in the face.
The revel is in full swing. Although part of me aches to join in, I know I have been brought here for a reason. I stride through them and they part for me like butter under a hot knife.
My eyes search for the reason I am here and then I see it; a mound of Darklings on a human. She’s screaming and I catch a glimpse of her face.
“No! NO!”
I’m running, kicking, bringing the stake down on them one by one so they pop and fizz, their screams joining hers in an awful duet.
Then there is silence.
I take my prize, sling her over my shoulder and throw back my head and roar.
“You break your bargain then I break mine!”
There is silence, deadly and ominous, until a voice speaks, one I thought never to hear again, one that makes me double over and retch and almost drop my prize.
“The darkness that finds its way home belongs and we are sooo hungryyy, so hungryyy, soooo…”
I clench my teeth and leg it.
38
GEMMA
I wake up with a residue of a scream on my lips. My throat feels raw like I have been screaming and my body aches all over.
I roll onto my side and pull off the duvet and scream.
Mum holds me tight, rocking me back and forth on her lap like she used to when I was a child. I’m cold, so cold. My brain aches with the effort of trying to remember because I know there is something important, something essential that I have to recall, and I can’t, I just can’t. I break into fresh sobs and mum squeezes me then eases up when I wince in pain.
Jules enters the room with a bowl of warm water and a flannel and some antiseptic. She places it on the bedside table and moves across the room to shut the window.
“I’m gonna drop the twins to school and then I’ll be right back.” She exchanges a look with mum and I feel sick. They think I’m crazy. I think I’m crazy. How else would I be naked, covered in mud, bruises and scratches and not remember a thing? My hair is one big tangle with leaves and twigs sticking out of it. I feel…dirty.
I can hear Jules bounding down the stairs, the excited chatter of the twins and then the front door slamming. After a few minutes the car engine roars to life, followed by the crunch of gravel.
“Mum, what’s wrong with me?”
“We going to get you cleaned up, and then we’re going to go see the doctor.”
I feel a spike of alarm. “Doctor? But they’re just scratches.”
“I know, I know. I just… We need to get you checked out make sure…make sure you weren’t hurt by…by someone.”
I stare at her blankly. My face feels numb and I burst into tears again.
39
MARY
I wait outside Gemma’s room while the doctor examines her. I don’t have long to wait before the doctor reappears, closing the door firmly behind her. Her lips are pressed together and her brows knit. My heart is in my mouth as I search her face and wait for her to tell me the worst.
“I’ve given her a mild sedative so she should sleep for the next few hours. Her body has been through a lot.”
“Oh god!” My hand flies to my mouth and my eyes tear up.
The doctor blinks at me slowly then shakes her head. “Oh no, Ms Learmonth, she has not been violated. She’s been dancing all night. The blisters on her feet, the skin worn away, it all suggests much wear. It was a full moon last night after all. I’m afraid it happens from time to time, despite the precautions we take, but you could take more care.” She looks at me pointedly.
I’m lost. I have no idea what she’s on about. “I don’t understand. Dancing? Gemma was in bed, she doesn’t remember going anywhere.”
“Of course she won’t remember, but now they’ve had a taste they’ll want more. I suggest you get a horseshoe for the house, some mistletoe and maybe a rowan bead bracelet for Gemma. You can find all you need in the village.” She brushes past me and heads toward the stairs.
I stand there stunned while my brain organises what she’s told me. Then I’m angry, really angry. I charge after her, catching her elbow by the front door.
She glares at me as if I’ve punched her.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She stares at me for a long moment, studying my face and then sighs. “You’re a Learmonth, I assumed you knew. Learmonth is a home to the Fair Folk, although they’re not exactly fair. We’ve learned to live with it, and if you’re going to live here, I suggest you put your scepticism aside and do the same. Hang some mistletoe in the windows and get a horseshoe. Don’t go out on a full moon and steer clear of the sea after sunset.”
With that she walks out the door, leaving me staring after her open mouthed and furious, blood pounding in my ears.
“She what?” Jules is furious. Her blue eyes are like ice chips as she practically throws the shopping bags onto the kitchen table. “I hope you told her where to shove it. We should report her. She’s obviously going senile or something.”
I scrub at the counter even though it’s sparkling clean. I just need to be doing something, anything. Something happened to my baby girl and I need to know what and why.
“How can I protect her if I don’t know what I’m protecting her from? I need to get out, I need some air!”
Jules moves to hug me, but I can’t accept the comfort just yet. If I do then I will break.
I park the car in the village square and just wander. I don’t know what it is I’m looking for but I see it everywhere. Horseshoes and mistletoe, bunches of other unidentified herbs sitting in window corners. Now that I am looking for it I find it everywhere. I see Gemma’s friend’s shop. I’ve spoken to Vi twice on the phone. She seems nice, normal. I head over. The bell rings to announce my arrival and Vi emerges from the back.
“Hi, what can I do for you?”
“I’m Mary.”
“Oh, hello. Nice to see you in the flesh.”
I shake my head, my lips trembles and I burst into tears.
Vi is across the shop and has her arm around me in less than a second. She leads me into the back.
“Sit down.” She pushes me into a chair and I allow my legs to collapse. I watch as she pops the kettle on. Nothing like a nice hot cuppa to sort out all your woes.
I giggle and she throws me a strange look.
We don’t speak while the tea is being made, but as soon as I have a cup before me she gives me the look.
I take a scalding sip and tell her everything.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me it’s a load of bullshit and the doctor is crazy.”
“Well then I’d have to tell you the whole town was crazy.”
“You believe all this crap?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know what to believe, but I’ve heard enough stories to keep an open mind and respect the traditions and superstitions of this village. They’re good people.”
“You’re saying I should believe that my daughter went dancing with…with fairies?”
“I don’t know, Mary. That’s entirely up to you, but if I was you I’d keep a close eye on her, keep her close. When I first moved here I found it all really funny, but then I started to think that with a belief system this strong, so many people channelling their faith into it, well, it’s something alright. Belief can achieve so many things, maybe even call to things that maybe hovered at the edge of our world into our world.”
“You think they made this happen, that they did this to Gemma?” I can feel the anger rising, but this time it’s mingled with fear.
“God no. I’m saying that there are things in this worl
d we can’t explain, where there’s smoke there’s fire. It’s up to you how much you want to believe, but just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
I don’t know what to make of this. She leaves me to ponder her words and returns with a small box filled with items.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a ‘welcome to Learmonth box’.” She laughs. “Just a few charms and items to protect and ward. You don’t have to use them, but they’re there if you change your mind.”
I thank Vi and take the box. Even if I don’t want to openly admit it, I’m terrified.
40
MARY
I place the box on the kitchen table and stand, staring at the contents.
Jules walks in but I can’t take my eyes off the box. She walks around the table and comes to stand beside me and joins me in staring at the box.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Jules sighs. “Do you believe that Gemma went off dancing with fairies?”
A snort of laughter escapes me.
“There, you have your answer.”
“But I don’t know really. I mean, I don’t know what really happened go Gemma.”
Jules drops her head. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything, I didn’t want to get her in trouble, but I went down to the cottage earlier and it’s been trashed, some kind of party.”
She pauses to let the implications sink in and as it does I wait for the anger, the white hot stab of betrayal, but it doesn’t come. All I feel is relief, relief that I have a scenario based in reality. I feel my strength, my conviction, return and I find myself standing straighter.
“Right, well let’s put this crap under the stairs.”
“What are you going to do?” Jules asks.
“I’m going to have a word with my teenage daughter. I’m going to tell her to stop lying to me.”
Jules shakes her head, her lips twisting in thought. “I don’t know, Mary. Her reaction this morning seemed pretty genuine. If she did go out partying and trash the cottage, then why not get up, get cleaned up and not mention it?”
Why is she trying to take this away from me? Why is she planting doubts that steer me toward the unthinkable possibility? I flounder but quickly find my feet. “Maybe she knew we’d find out. The cottage was trashed, right? Maybe she knew we’d find out so she made up a story of not remembering what happened to her.”
“You think she could have been drugged?”
My hand flies up to my mouth at the strong possibility. “That would explain it. I need to speak to her friends.”
“Like they’d tell you anything.”
She’s right. I pull out a chair and collapse into it as if the strings holding me up have been cut. So this is it, one of the nightmares of having a teenage daughter. I should be grateful she’s okay, safe, but all I feel is confusion because this Gemma, the one who runs off and has a secret party and gets smashed, is so far removed from the kind, considered child I raised. The mood swings and the cold shoulders I can handle, but this… I don’t know what to do. Another thought occurs to me and the safe explanation no longer makes sense.
41
GEMMA
The ache has gone, the confusion is ebbing. I feel almost like myself again, but I’m afraid to get out of bed just in case it’s all an illusion, just in case the crazy Gemma returns, so I hide from her under my duvet and stare up at the ceiling and wonder if I am truly going insane.
Mum enters not long after, and I am forced to sit up because she has that look on her face, the one that says she doesn’t know whether to yell at me or hug me.
She sits the side of my bed and licks her lips. “Did you have a party at the cottage last night without my permission?”
It’s the last thing I expect her to say. I’m thrown.
“The cottage was trashed, Gemma.”
I stare at her, my mind a big white blank and then colour seeps in. I seriously contemplate that as the truth. Did I have a party? I am so confused.
“I remember dancing…” The words are out before I can think about them, but I feel the truth. I glance up at mum in horror. “Oh god!” I remember dancing and lights…yes, lots of lights in the…in the trees…Sam was there. I was with Sam. A sharp pain lances through my brain and I grab my head, squeeze my eyes shut keening in pain.
Mum’s arms are around me. She rocks me and shushes me and tells me not to worry, that it’s over, that it’s okay, and then she leaves me to go get painkillers and the pain vanishes, just like that, and I’m left clammy and suddenly very afraid.
42
MARY
I stride into the kitchen and start taking items out of the box.
Jules ends a call on her mobile and frowns at me. “Just spoke to Jen and she swears up and down that there was no party last night. Mary? What are you doing?”
I lift up the horseshoe. “Can you get the tool box, love?”
43
MARY
There are a number of reasons I love Fridays. It means another week is over and the weekend stretches out before me, filled with possibilities, including the chance I might find a literary gem in my inbox. It means that I get to spend quality time with the kids and Jules. And, finally, my favourite part is that I get to pick up the twins from school.
Jules said she was perfectly happy to do it, but I put my foot down. Being one of the top agents in the publishing business affords me some perks like being able to knock off early on a Friday.
As I stand outside the school, positioned between Elder and Hawthorn class, I glance at the other mums, some pushing buggies in their tracksuit bottoms and knitted leggings, jeans and boots, faces clean of makeup and hair tied back in messy ponytails, or tucked under hats. I feel like a fraud with my smart trouser suit, neatly coiffed hair and makeup. They gossip in their neat cliques and completely ignore me. I am invisible. I wonder what they would say if I just wandered over and joined in the conversation. Jules does it every day. She knows all their names and their kid’s names. Jules is a natural. I square my shoulders and I’m about to head over to the nearest group when Heather’s class door swings open. The teacher throws me an enquiring looks, wondering which child I’m here to collect. I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. I have been here every Friday for the past six weeks. There is no way she doesn’t know who I am.
“Heather please,” I say.
Mrs Duncan calls Heather and my little girl comes out red-eyed and upset.
I can see Danny’s class door open in my peripheral vision, but I crouch down to speak to Heather. “What’s up, baby?”
“Somebody stealed my bracelet.” She holds up her wrist which is obscured by her coat cuff, but I get the picture.
“Did you tell the teacher?”
She sniffs and nods. “Mrs Duncan said it’s not their…not their sponsibility.”
My neck flushes hot with anger. I straighten and take Heather’s hand. The class is almost empty and I push through to the front and raise my hand to catch the teacher’s eye.
I’m pretty sure I’m not mistaken. I’m pretty sure she sighs.
“What can I do for you, Ms Learmonth?”
“Heather’s bracelet’s been stolen and I was wondering what you were going to do about it?”
She folds her arms across her chest and looks down at Heather while addressing me. “There’s nothing we can do. We have a strict policy about not wearing jewellery.”
I blink at her, trying to compute what she’s saying. Just to clarify I say, “So let me get this straight. You’re saying that just because Heather wore a bracelet to school when she shouldn’t have, you will ignore the fact that you have a little thief in your class?”
Mrs Duncan looks up sharply at me, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. I continue. “You’ve decided to send the message that stealing is okay, that it won’t be punished, that just because Heather broke a rule it’s okay for this child to break another, am I correct?”
“No, t
hat’s not-”
I raise my hand. “Did you see Heather’s bracelet before today?”
“Well yes, but-”
“Then I struggle to comprehend why you didn’t speak to either myself or my partner about the issue and ask us to remove it.”
And that’s when I see the shift in her face, when I mention Jules, when I use the word partner.
I frown. “Do you have a problem with same-sex relationships, Mrs Duncan?”
She presses her lips together, her face taking on a blank look. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with my ability to teach.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, I’m entrusting my child to you to be educated. By educated I mean taught to think for herself, to see the world with fresh eyes, untainted by prejudice of any kind. I will be taking this further.” I step away, taking Heather with me.
The playground is empty and I hurry over to Danny’s class. Mrs Johnson opens the door, her brow furrowed in concern.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. Her eyes are so concerned, her face so kind. I’m trembling with anger and then I burst into tears.
44
HEATHER
Elsa is wearing a pink puffy dress with green and purple diamonds on it. I think it’s my best picture yet. My pencil crayons are spread out on my bed, my special box with all my special things is open waiting for the new picture to be locked away. But even the best drawing ever won’t make the tears go away. My bracelet has gone, my special bracelet that Gemma made especially for me. I bet if Elsa had been there she would have gotten it back for me. I bet if Elsa were here she would make me feel better.
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