by Roz Marshall
Corinne was at his elbow. "How did I not notice that photo before?" she asked in wonderment, eyes tracking from the photo of him standing under the spotlight with his violin under his arm, back to his face. "I'd have recognised you—the minstrel—straight away."
"Probably my fault," said Phemie. "I kept it at the back where it wasn't so easily seen." She grimaced. "Folks round here thought I was mad, thinking he was still alive, that he'd been taken by the fairies. According to them he'd drowned in the river and his body had washed out to sea or caught under a rock. That was what the Procurator Fiscal's report said, anyway. Presumed dead by drowning."
"So what do we do now, then?" Corinne asked. "Tell them he's not dead after all?"
Elphin caught Phemie's eye. "That might be rather hard," he said, indicating both their faces. "Even the best moisturiser cannot—can't," the word sounded strange on his tongue, "really explain this. How long has it been, anyway?"
"A bit over forty years," Phemie replied, placing three mugs of steaming tea on the table. "Biscuit? Sandwich? Are you even hungry? What did you eat in Feyland? Fairyland. Whatever it's called."
"The Faerie Realm," he corrected. "But that was what trapped me there. I was hungry, and ate some of the food Cailleach offered me. Big mistake."
Big mistake. That was a modern phrase. Well, one from his youth anyway. Perhaps even from a song? He had a vague memory of some Australian actress turned singer making the pop charts with a song of that title.
Corinne's eyes widened. "That was why you always told me not to eat or drink anything."
He nodded. "Aye. But a sandwich would be good, sis. Thanks." And he could say thank-you here. He flexed his shoulders. He was starting to feel more human. "I am looking forward to things being more normal, now. To life being easier."
Phemie busied herself by the fridge. "I've got a note of your National Insurance number somewhere. You'll need that if you want to get a job. And your old birth certificate is in the file." She stopped, holding a packet of butter. "But that has you as a sixty-year-old man. That'll be a bit hard to explain."
"Could he not do like they do in novels—take a dead person's identity?" Corinne suggested.
-::-
"He is a dead person. Was." Phemie gave Elphin an apologetic shrug. "As far as the authorities are concerned, anyway." She put a plate of sandwiches in the centre of the table and picked up her mug of tea. "But you'll need a birth certificate if you want to get a passport. Or learn to drive. Or," she glanced at Corinne, "marry."
The girl seemed oblivious to the implication of Phemie's last words. Instead, she was tapping animatedly on one of those new-fangled electronic tablets that she'd pulled from her pocket.
Elphin moved behind her and stared, wide-eyed, at the device.
"It says here," Corinne pointed a finger at something un-readable on her tiny screen, "that you can apply for a retroactive birth certificate. Like when a child hasn't been registered because of cultural beliefs and attitudes, living in a remote area, fear of discrimination or persecution… stuff like that."
Hmmm. Phemie eyed Elphin appraisingly. "What age are you now? You don't look much older than the sixteen you were when you disappeared."
"I thought I had just been there a couple of years. It was hard to tell, because it never gets dark in regions near the Bright Court. But time moves differently in the realm."
Corinne looked up from her screen. "I found that too. I'd have been away for days, and I'd go back into Feyland and he'd think I'd only been gone minutes."
"So eighteen." Going on sixty. She rubbed her lip, her mind racing. "Could you have been 'born' here, but never registered?"
Elphin blinked. "What are you thinking, sis?"
"That you'd have to stop calling me that, for a start." She picked up one of the sandwiches and took an absent-minded bite. "Near enough twenty years ago, I had a bit o' a fling with…" she took another bite, "a travelling rep from one o' the feed companies. And got pregnant." Corinne's jaw dropped open.
"And I was too ashamed to admit to being an unmarried mother," Phemie continued, getting into the swing of her story. "So I shipped the baby—the boy—off to relatives in…" she swallowed. Nice chutney. "Ireland, who brought him up. On the quiet. But now he's eighteen; wanting to get a job, learn to drive, all that nonsense—so I need to get him registered. Phin Irving. My long-lost son. Named after the twin brother I lost." She pursed her lips and looked from one to the other. "What d'you think?"
Elphin chuckled. "I see you're still reading lots of fiction novels!"
Corinne frowned. "What about school? It says here you need a birth certificate to go to school."
"Home schooling?" Phemie suggested. "They have that in Ireland, don't they?"
"That might work," Elphin said. "But would it not be strange, having me as your son?"
Phemie lifted a shoulder. "Not as strange as having to explain to people that you'd been in fairyland for the last forty years. They'd lock me up. Think I had early-onset dementia."
Elphin nodded slowly. "I couldn't call you 'mum', though. That would be—weird."
"Call me Phemie. You haven't seen me for eighteen years, after all. My cousin in Ireland was the only mother you ever knew. But now you stand to inherit the farm, so you've come back to Scotland wi' your pockets empty and your hand out." Both their mouths had opened now. "Too much?"
Corinne smiled. "I think you're wasted as a farmer. You should write books."
CHAPTER 24
CORINNE SHIVERED, AND zipped her jacket to the neck. This path beside the barn acted like a wind tunnel, causing the plastic wrapping around the haylage bales to flap like fairground bunting on a stormy day. And that wind had a bite in it, like it came directly from the Arctic.
Elphin pulled her hand into the crook of his arm as he walked beside her. "Cold?" he asked, looking down with a twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah. A bit. What happened to summer? It's still August."
He shrugged. "It's Scotland. What did Billy Connolly say? We have two seasons. June and winter."
She snorted. "How come you didn't make jokes back in Feyland?"
His nose wrinkled. "Not much to joke about, back then." Face serious, he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll just have to keep you warm," he whispered, and kissed the tip of her nose.
Butterflies danced in her stomach and a pulse fluttered in her throat. He had that effect on her. Every time he looked at her with those emerald-green eyes, she melted. And that voice! He could charm the birds from the trees. Her hand crept up to tangle in his copper curls. Just one kiss. Where nobody would see them, here at the side of the barn, on the way to the schooling paddock. No need to provoke gossip, but surely one kiss…
The sharp crack of a whip and a startled neigh broke them apart.
With a gasp, Corinne spun on her heel and raced towards the arena, skidding to a halt beside the post and rail fence. Elphin arrived just a few steps behind her.
Brightly-coloured show-jumps were set around the school, and at the far end a gaggle of teenagers hung over the fence, enthralled by a dapper man in immaculate white jodhpurs and a navy Puffa jacket who stood in the middle of the arena. Hands on hips, he glared at the grey horse standing in front of the nearest jump. Legs braced and nostrils flaring, it was going nowhere.
Ghost.
"Again!" shouted the instructor. "Do not let 'eem away wiz it."
On Ghost's back Sonya—also in immaculate white jodhpurs—cracked her whip on his flanks, and dug her spurs into his creamy sides.
Corinne gasped, and started to clamber over the fence.
But Elphin pulled her back. "You cannot. He's not your horse."
"But—"
"He's not your horse." Elphin said again, more slowly. His wide mouth turned down, and he put a hand on hers. "I'm sorry. Maybe we shouldn't have come to watch."
But then I wouldn't have known.
Would not knowing have been better? She wasn't sure.
&nbs
p; At the other end of the arena, the Italian—some famous show-jumper Sonya had commissioned for a lesson—flicked his hands in disgust. "Let me try. I will get 'eem to jump."
Moments later, he was perched in Sonya's shiny black saddle, kicking his heels against Ghost's ribs. To no avail. He tried to turn the horse, bending his neck round to an extreme angle. But it was like Ghost's legs were set in concrete. Nothing would move him.
Then the whip came out, cracking three times in quick succession on Ghost's rump.
Tears pricked at Corinne's eyes, and she turned away. "I can't watch. Poor Ghost. She doesn't understand why he won't jump for them the way he did for me."
Elphin's head quirked, his forehead creasing as he watched the Italian's gleaming black boots flail ineffectually against Ghost's sides. "Stay here," he said, hopping over the fence. "Let me see what I can do."
In a few steps he had crossed the all-weather surface of the arena and stood at the horse's shoulder. "Sir," he said, pinning the dark-haired instructor with his gaze. "Could I make a suggestion?" He indicated Corinne, standing tensely at the side of the paddock. "Let Corinne try. She has a way with difficult creatures."
Before the Italian could reply, Sonya stepped forward, her face like thunder. "He's my horse now!"
Elphin turned his green gaze on the angry girl and inclined his head slowly. "Yes," his voice rumbled melodiously, "but perhaps you might appreciate a little help?"
Sonya's expression softened and she pursed her lips. "Yes, perhaps I would." Somehow, her ire had disappeared. She looked up at the instructor. "Luigi?"
"Good idea!" The instructor threw a leg over Ghost's wither and slid off.
Elphin beckoned to Corinne. "Your turn. Come on."
-::-
It was hard to stop the grin from spreading from ear to ear. Hard not to squeal with delight as Ghost flew over the coloured rails as if he was a pegasus, not a unicorn made mortal. Hard not to laugh with joy as he cantered to the next jump with his ears pricked and his tail streaming behind him.
For, of course, he had jumped without hesitation for Corinne. After running into the arena, she had tenderly rubbed his forehead, surreptitiously whispering a 'Sorry' in his ear. And when she got on board, it felt like coming home again. Like a missing part of her had been restored. She revelled in the familiar feeling of his broad back underneath her, the strong muscles that carried them both with ease and then bunched and sprung effortlessly into the air over the show-jumps.
All too quickly, they'd jumped all the obstacles set out in the arena, and Corinne guided Ghost back to where Sonya and Luigi stood watching her.
The Italian was shaking his head, open-mouthed. "Is like a different animal." He made a circular motion with his hand. "Walk 'eem round a minute, get 'ees breath back."
Ghost showed no signs of the exertion, but Corinne walked him off in a circle, glad to spend a few more minutes with him.
A second later, the Italian walked away from Sonya and caught up with Corinne. He spoke quietly so nobody else would hear. "You, I would teach again. You 'ave talent." His eyes swivelled in Sonya's direction. "Not everyone I teach has the feel. The balance. You know?" He didn't name names, but the implication was obvious. "Next time I teach here, I will tell you." With a quick jerk of his chin, he was off, back to his paying customer.
"Sonya will try now," he called across the arena as Corinne and Ghost completed their circle. "Now that you have warmed 'eem up."
"Be good," Corinne whispered in Ghost's ear as Sonya prepared to mount, then patted his neck and walked back to join Elphin. She was almost scared to watch.
In a way, she wanted the satisfaction of knowing that Ghost would only jump for her. But that might mean more beatings for him, and she couldn't bear that to happen. Corinne crossed her fingers as Sonya settled in the saddle and picked up the reins.
"Walk on," Sonya said with a click of her tongue.
Briefly, it seemed like Ghost was about to take a step forward, but then he tilted his head as if to see what Corinne was doing, and the moment was gone.
"Kick 'eem," urged Luigi.
Sonya's heels banged against Ghost's sides, her whip cracked and her spurs dug. But Ghost was like an ice sculpture. Un-moved and unmoving.
Corinne ground her teeth together. "Go on, Ghost," she whispered.
But if the horse heard her, he ignored her. Just like he was ignoring Sonya.
"Do they not say that, once tamed, a unicorn will only work for the maid that tamed it?" Elphin asked quietly.
Corinne looked sideways at him, then grimaced. "If that's so, then Ghost's on the road to nowhere." Or the Crow Road, she thought, and bit her lip, remembering the disappearance of Maestro.
After another fruitless effort, Sonya jumped off the horse with a howl of frustration and stomped forwards, her whip raised shoulder-high. For a moment it looked like she was about to smack him in the face, and Ghost threw his head up, showing the whites of his eyes. But the movement seemed to bring her to her senses, and with a quick glance at her audience, she lowered her hand and grabbed his reins, tugging him forward.
This time, he walked easily, and she glowered at him. "Stupid horse." Then she turned to the Italian, her expression suddenly saccharine-sweet. "We will, of course, pay you for your time, Luigi." She motioned towards the car park. "Go see my father. He'll square up."
"Oh-kay," said the instructor with a nod, "and—eh—you have tried very good. Very hard. Is a shame 'ee was not working."
Sonya narrowed her eyes at him, then tugged Ghost forward, toward the side of the arena where Corinne and Elphin stood. She tossed the reins at Corinne. "Here. Since you were the one that rode him, you can put him away." She turned on her heel and flounced off to join Mandy and the other girls at the end of the arena.
CHAPTER 25
PHEMIE NOSED THE land-rover through the farm gates, scowling as a couple of white flakes landed on the windscreen. Snow? It was only August. How could it be snowing in August? Just as well we got the harvest finished. But the money she'd made from the harvest had pretty much all been used up buying seed and fertiliser for next year. Which could all be wasted if the weather went against them.
That was the harsh reality of farming—you could spend a five-figure sum on seed, only to have it all washed away by a week of heavy rain, or the seedling plants killed by unseasonal frosts. That was why so many farmers diversified. Like she had, into horses.
Pulling up in front of the house, she clambered out and went round to the back of the car to retrieve the shopping. Now that there were two mouths to feed, they seemed to go through a prodigious amount of food. She stopped for a moment, smiling to herself. Wouldn't change it, though. Having Elphin—Phin, she corrected herself—back was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she was thankful every moment of every day.
Heaving the first two brightly-coloured bags out of the luggage space, she pushed open the garden gate with her hip and carried the bags into the house.
Walking back through the front garden to retrieve the next batch of bags, her ears pricked at the sound of voices in the car park, but the land-rover blocked her view. One hand on the gate, she stopped, her head cocked like a Jack Russell contemplating a rustle in the grass.
Across the car park, a man's voice rumbled, then a more high-pitched tone that she recognised in an instant. Sonya Tavish.
"He's no good," the girl was saying, presumably to her father. "He won't jump. I want another. I'll never qualify for Olympia otherwise."
"Are you sure, dear?" Mr Tavish said in measured tones. "It's not so long ago you were telling me this horse was a champion."
"That was all a trick. I think they just wanted us to pay more for the horse. Luigi says he's not working. Broken. I need another."
Mr Tavish sucked air through his teeth. "We'll have to send him away then, like we did Maestro. Are you sure that's what you want?"
There was a pause, and Phemie could visualise Sonya's lip pouting and her hands
knuckling on her hips. "Yes. I don't want him any more."
This latest pronouncement provoked a heavy sigh. "Okay. Go and get your stuff then. I'll make arrangements when we get home."
Quick footsteps crunched across the car park and Phemie took her chance, before the girl would reappear. Hurrying out of the gate, she rounded the back of her land-rover and approached Sonya's Father.
"Eh, Mr Tavish?"
The man turned at the sound of her voice, his navy suit almost as shiny as his black hair.
"I couldn't help overhearing. If you're looking to sell the beast, I'll take him off your hands." She glanced sideways. No sign of the girl returning. "Just don't tell Sonya."
He twisted his thin lips. "How much?"
Phemie stared levelly at him. He might have paid over ten grand for the horse, but it would be worth nothing if it got put to sleep. "Fifteen hundred." Corinne's mother had been prepared to spend five thousand, so Phemie was sure they'd pay that much. If not, I'll just have to try and ride the beast myself.
Behind rimless glasses that were surely an affectation for a man that could easily afford laser surgery, Mr Tavish blinked several times. "He was an expensive horse!"
"An expensive horse that your daughter has broken."
The man's mouth compressed into a line and a nerve twitched in his cheek. "Two thousand and he's yours."
Phemie paused, wrinkling her nose. Don't make it look too easy. But the distant sound of footsteps curtailed her negotiation options. She held out a hand to seal the deal. "Done. Only because I've got a soft heart." Jerking her chin in Sonya's direction, she added, "Remember, don't say anything to the girl. I'll get a cheque to you tomorrow."
-::-
Corinne and Elphin stood together outside her stable, hands clasped and jaws clenched. Corinne was too nervous to speak, fearful that something would go wrong at the last minute; that Mr Tavish would change his mind or that Sonya would hear of Phemie's plan or…