Melody's Unicorn

by Richard Swan

  She made her way carefully across the road, turned right and then left into Green Street. Everything looked the same here too, and Melody felt her anxiety recede further. There would be changes, yes, and she’d have to get used to them, but it could have been much, much worse. At least Tamar and his sister were still here, and knew of her return. They would help her come to terms with the present, and deal with whatever lay ahead. She pushed the bell on Alwyn’s intercom, and announced her arrival as calmly as she could.

  The interior of the flat was completely altered from when she had left it, so different that she stopped in shock on the threshold. It had been redecorated, largely in white, and the pleasant disorder of Alwyn’s belongings had been replaced by a stark neatness. Tamar, who had opened the door to her, grinned a little at her discomfiture, and gestured to the figure on the white leather sofa, which occupied pride of place on the polished floorboards. The young man who sat there was unknown to Melody, but seemed quite at home. Melody couldn’t imagine who he was, but he was looking at her intently as if he was measuring her. There was a moment’s silence, broken by the entrance of Alwyn, who came through from the bedroom and swept Melody up in a close embrace. She at least seemed entirely the same.

  ‘Melody! It’s wonderful to have you back. I knew you’d be back, of course, but I didn’t know in which decade. Tamar, you can guess, has been sick with worry every day. If you hadn’t come back soon he’d have driven himself into a very early grave.’

  With that she let Melody go and stood back to look at her properly.

  ‘Yes,’ she continued, ‘that’s exactly how I remember you – the same face, the same clothes. There’s something different about you though, something I can’t quite place.’

  ‘It’s the eyes,’ said the man on the sofa, who hadn’t stopped staring at Melody since she’d walked in. ‘You said the eyes were cold. Now they’re brilliant.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Alwyn, peering closely. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Melody,’ she continued, seeing the expression on Melody’s face, ‘you haven’t met Palmer. This is Palmer, Palmer Evans, my partner. We’ve been together a couple of years. He knows all about you.’

  ‘I can see he does,’ said Melody coolly, not sure what to make of this stranger. ‘He certainly has the advantage of me.’

  Palmer didn’t seem embarrassed by his superiority of knowledge. ‘Of course I know. These two have hardly talked of anything else when they’ve been together. I’ve had to ban Tamar from coming here, otherwise I’d never get any attention from Alwyn at all.’

  ‘Ignore him,’ said Alwyn. ‘He’s an interior designer, and they’re all like that. They think the world revolves around them, and if it doesn’t they think it should. Look what he’s done to my flat. But just ignore him, and he’ll be fine. He’ll sort you out to fit into his world somehow.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Palmer. ‘She’s even stranger than you made me believe, and that was weird enough. She doesn’t quite look as if she belongs in this world at all.’

  Melody was going to retort, but something in Alwyn’s gaze stopped her.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Alwyn. ‘There is something strange about you. But perhaps that’s not so surprising, considering. I think you’d better tell us what’s been going on.’

  So Melody sat down and began to tell them. Tamar hadn’t spoken since she’d entered the flat, and he remained silent as her story unfolded, although he never left her side and watched her constantly. Melody told everything she could remember, but already she felt that most of it was like a dream, and that her account gave no true impression of what she had experienced.

  Afterwards, her main memory of that time in the flat was the peculiar intensity of Tamar’s attention to her. He said very little, but kept near her and was always trying to anticipate her next movement or request. It was as if he was trying to live through the four years of separation in a single afternoon, to make up the time he’d lost. She felt sorry for him, moved by the evident emotion he was feeling, although she couldn’t share it. For her it had felt like a few hours, however strange and tangled those hours might have been, and she couldn’t become accustomed to this adult where a boy had been so recently. She knew it would take time, and let him work through his reaction without comment.

  They were all clearly troubled by what had happened to her. Her encounter with the unicorn they had to take on trust, although they could see that there was something different about her. Melody found herself toning down or missing out a lot of the details. She told them about the king of the feys, and about Erec, but she didn’t mention Clíodhna or Sir Gawain. They were too strange, and there was so much else to talk about. Her attempts to describe the unicorn were vague and imprecise, although Alwyn asked questions and tried to make sense of it. Only Palmer kept aloof. He didn’t say he doubted her word, but Melody was sure he disbelieved most of her story.

  In the meantime she had plenty to ask of her own. She needed to know what had happened, how the world had moved on since she had left it. But she found herself attending to very little of what was said. She guessed that part of her would always be walking beneath the trees of Faërie, and she wondered if she would feel wholly human again.

  Two items caught her attention. The first was Tamar’s quiet announcement that his father had died, suddenly, of a heart attack. She sensed at once that this was one of the things that had changed him. He had hated his father, or his father had hated him, but the suddenness of death had forced him to reconsider his attitude and relationship, and realise that something important had gone forever. There was no going back, but the darkness and regret of the event had shadowed his days and made him more reflective, less certain and forthright. The second was the news that her own father had recently been asking after her again. After his apparent acceptance of her disappearance, the length of years had begun to tell, and he wanted news of her. He hadn’t said a word when Tamar had told him that nothing was known of her, but he seemed quietly dismayed, somehow diminished and paled. Melody immediately vowed to contact him as soon as the opportunity arose.

  ‘There’s something else as well,’ said Alwyn. ‘Something we can’t define. Lately I’ve been aware of shadows in the world around me. When I see things, I can’t see them clearly. It’s as if there’s something blocking my sight, or something behind events which alters their shape and outline.’

  ‘We’ve all been aware of it,’ added Tamar in one of his few contributions to the discussion. ‘Corann and Ruric have both felt the same. They describe it as a darkness in the world, although they can’t describe what that means exactly.’

  ‘I haven’t been aware of it,’ put in Palmer, ‘so it’s not precisely “all” of us. But I don’t think I feel the same as you people evidently do anyway. This talk of Faërie and unicorns and shadows is beyond me.’

  ‘Don’t you believe any of it?’ asked Melody, curious.

  ‘No, I can’t say I do. But I respect your right to believe it. I’m not so arrogant to think that the way I see the world is the way everybody else does, or should, despite what Alwyn may tell you. It’s no surprise, though, that I don’t share this unease about what’s happening around me.’

  They continued to discuss this and all the other matters for a long time, without reaching conclusions on any part of it. At long last the talking seemed to be over. There was much left unsaid, and plenty of questions that needed answering, but for the moment there was a lull. Melody found herself wanting to return to Ealing, to consult Corann and to make contact with her father. Tamar immediately offered to accompany her, and they left the flat together to walk to the Underground station.

  In the street outside they had hardly walked a few yards when a shadow passed over the sky above them, and was gone.

  ‘What was that?’ cried Melody. The shadow had filled her with a strange mixture of feelings – striking cold, but paradoxically at the same moment an intense warmth or heat, as if she’d walked past an electric fire.


  Tamar looked up uneasily. ‘I’m not sure – we’re not sure. It’s part of the strangeness we were telling you about. There’ve been several moments like that recently, curious shapes and shadows that are never quite recognisable, but certainly there. It’s one of the reasons Corann will be glad you’re back. He seems to think that you’ll know more about it, and that you’re needed somehow.’

  Melody thought about this, but didn’t speak until they were on the train and heading for Ealing Broadway. ‘I agree with Corann, somehow. I think I’m needed too. I can’t view all these events as unconnected. I just don’t know what I’m needed for. How am I going to find out?’

  It was Tamar’s turn to look pensive. ‘I’ve no idea. I hadn’t really considered what was going to happen when you returned. I just wanted you back.’

  Melody looked at him sympathetically. ‘You really have changed, haven’t you?’ she said softly.

  He looked up and met her eyes. ‘Yes. I have. I hadn’t realised how much until you actually appeared. I started comparing myself with the way I was when you vanished. I’ve changed gradually, of course, so it was a shock to see what a difference there’s been. I’m not what I was, in so many ways.’

  ‘And what are you now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m someone who’s lost his determination, and lost his anger. I’ve wanted a friend, and I want things to be peaceful.’

  ‘One out of two isn’t bad.’

  Tamar tried to smile. ‘Thanks. At least I know which one you mean. And thanks. But I don’t have a clue what you are anymore. I’m the one who should’ve changed, I’ve had four years. You ought to be the same, you were only gone a short time, but it’s as if you’re a completely different being.’

  ‘What do you see in me then?’

  ‘Brightness. It’s like Palmer said. He isn’t attuned to our ways, but he’s pretty perceptive in his own, and he’s right about you. There’s a brilliance in your eyes, all about you. I’m no good at auras, but I guess you’ve got one all around you, golden or silver.’

  ‘Or white?’

  ‘White, sure. Why?’

  ‘Because of the unicorn. It wasn’t any colour that I could see, but to human eyes I think it would normally be white. It touched me; I guess I’ve gained a little of its shining.’

  ‘Have you become immortal?’

  Melody laughed at the seriousness of the question. ‘I hope not. That wouldn’t suit me at all, and I guess it would upset a lot of other people. No, nothing like that. It’s just that I feel different, as if part of me is always in the other world.’

  Tamar nodded. ‘That’s what it is, then. That’s what we’re seeing. An echo of Faërie, shining in your eyes. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.’ He sounded sad as he said it.

  ‘Don’t be miserable,’ Melody said. ‘Look, I’m still me. I haven’t changed so much, I’m still human, I’m still who I was.’

  ‘But not what you were.’

  ‘No. None of us is what we were. You said that yourself. Time changes us all, and if time in Faërie works in a different way, time here works no less surely. I need to find what I am now, and so do you. We’ll look together.’

  At last Tamar smiled. ‘OK, it’s a deal. Where do we start looking?’

  ‘I’m not sure. We’ll ask Corann first, and Ruric. They may have their own ideas. Then we’ll visit the Common, to see if that dryad will speak to us again. Such creatures often know things that we don’t. And I want to contact my father. I want to know how he’s changed, too, and whether he can help us at all.’

  ‘How could he help?’

  ‘I’m not sure. But he’s a forester, he understands the land. Perhaps he’ll understand me, what I’ve become. I need to go and see him.’

  ‘To Lichfield? You’ll go home?’

  ‘Yes. But I’ll come back, don’t worry. We’ll see this through together.’

  ‘Whatever it is.’

  ‘Whatever it is.’

  If Melody had begun to dread the responses of people to her sudden reappearance, she was reassured by the warmth of Corann’s welcome. He showed no surprise at her sudden return, and she was reminded of Tamar’s comment that Corann hadn’t seemed surprised by her disappearance either. He gave her a big hug and a big grin, and went off to find her something to eat. She must, he said, be hungry.

  If Melody had been half-prepared for Corann’s greeting, she was totally stunned by her reception from Ruric. As he entered the room and caught sight of her, he ran forward and seized her in a tight embrace, almost crying with relief.

  ‘Corann said you’d come back in your own time, but I didn’t accept that. I thought you were lost to us forever, and I took it as my fault. I gave you the ring which led you into Faërie; I never hoped to live to see you emerge from it.’

  Melody disentangled herself and stepped back to look at him. He was thinner than she remembered, more gaunt and tired. She wondered what had happened to him. He noticed her measured appraisal.

  ‘You wonder what I’ve learnt since you left? I have learnt humility. I think we’ve all learnt that, a lesson we needed. And here you are to reward us for our humility and our patience – and you, I see, have learnt much since we last met.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Melody slowly, not sure how to deal with this new Ruric. She had begun to know how to cope with his apparent disdain and cynicism; to have to review that approach would be one of the more difficult aspects of her return, if he had really become meek and gentle towards her.

  Fortunately, Tamar was willing to answer most of the questions Corann and Ruric wanted to ask while they ate. He seemed to take seriously their agreement to see things through together, and gave her time to gather herself and adjust to being back in the house. She was glad that Corann and Ruric were discreet enough to keep their curiosity in check, at least for the moment. She even managed to ask after their own affairs, and learnt that life in the house had continued much as before. There had been another student, who was now helping Ruric out in his bookshop and had moved to a flat in Turnham. It was her own absence that had defined much of their lives. Ruric blamed himself for her demise, while Corann was convinced that she was yet to fulfil her destiny and would therefore return at the appropriate time. When she asked if that meant that the appropriate time had arrived, he wouldn’t be drawn.

  ‘We’ll think about that in the morning. It’s enough this evening to make contact with your father, to let him know that you’re safe, then you need to rest. You’ll be clearer-headed after a good sleep, and tomorrow we can discuss what to do next.’

  Even as he said it Melody was aware of how tired she was. It seemed like a month since she’d slept, and a great weariness seized her. She even accepted Tamar’s offer to phone her father on her behalf. He would be able to break the news gently, and she would be saved from difficult explanations, at least until her father had had time to come to terms with her reappearance. She would have a long talk to him tomorrow. Making her excuses she went upstairs to the attic where her few belongings had been preserved. Gratefully she got ready for bed, and was asleep within moments, leaving the other three to talk long into the night about her.

  Lichfield

  Two days later a train pulled into Lichfield Trent Valley Station, and a slight girl got off, dressed in jeans and a hooded top which she had pulled back to reveal her pale skin and dark hair. She paused to look around her, as if reminding herself of somewhere she had once been, but had forgotten. The other passengers moved aside and passed round her, leaving her in possession of the platform. After a few moments she sighed and followed them.

  Outside the station the damp and lowering weather forced her to pull her hood up. A man was waiting for her. He had the rugged and weather-beaten look of someone who spent most of his life in the open air, and was dressed in strong workman’s clothes, denim and cotton and cloth. Seeing her his face broke into a hesitant smile, and he moved forward to take her in an awkward embrace.

  ‘Daughte
r,’ he said simply. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

  Melody held him close to her. She didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to. They’d never been a demonstrative family even when her mother had been with them, and since her disappearance they had often spent days with hardly a word spoken. They were both self-reliant, and understood each other’s moods and character. Melody knew he had let her go when she needed to; equally, he accepted her return as if she’d never been away at all.

  He led her to a battered old Land Rover in the station car park, and swung out into the Lichfield traffic along the Trent Valley Road. There would be time for talk and explanations when they reached home. In the meantime, Melody was content to look about her and see how the city had changed in the four years since she’d last seen it. It all looked familiar, and seemed to have altered even less than London, although a few of the shops were new and many had changed hands. They turned near the cathedral, and Melody looked up at the three familiar and brooding spires which loomed over the surrounding buildings. The cathedral outline looked different somehow, and for a few moments Melody couldn’t work out why. She looked more closely, and saw that there was something like a shadow on the roof. Striving to get it in focus, she suddenly made out that it was more than the usual mass of scaffolding that seemed to disfigure all public buildings. It was big, and dark – and living. It was a creature of some sort, huge and ominous, and winged.

  ‘What on earth’s that?’ she cried, but even as she pointed the Land Rover turned a corner and her view was blocked.

  ‘What’s what?’ asked her father, concentrating on weaving through the dense web of cars.

  ‘On the cathedral. There was something there. A creature of some sort. Something weird.’

  ‘There’s another view of the cathedral just ahead. See if you can spot whatever it was.’

  This time when Melody looked there was nothing there, or the angle of the building concealed her view. She half-wondered whether she’d imagined it, or whether it really was scaffolding, but in her mind there was a memory of another shadow that had passed over her in London, outside Alwyn’s flat. She didn’t like to think of that, and this filled her with a similar feeling of unease.