Second Night Page 7

  He had been ‘the green one’ since the evening in the spring when Alan and Jasper had found the two white kittens abandoned at the northeast gate and brought them to live at the lodge. The little female had been named in a matter of days while Jemima tried out a list of names for the male kitten, none of which he would answer to. She pointed to the bulge of torn material in the rocking chair by the window. ‘He’s Kush for cushion-clawer. He likes it.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a Jas brand,’ said Sara, finally ridding herself of the cat.

  ‘No, it was Caz this time.’

  Maddie tipped more logs into the fire. Jemima crouched in front of the grate, watching the flames.

  ‘Is there anything interesting?’ asked Sara.

  Jemima stood up. ‘Only a skull. It’s easy to see skulls in the fire. They don’t mean anything.’

  Kush stalked the top of the open pantry door. Kresh curled up on an old coat on the hearth. Jemima poured fresh grounds into the coffee maker. Sara began preparing vegetables.

  ‘Isn’t this delightfully domestic?’ she said happily.

  ‘If you say so,’ said Jemima.

  ‘I wonder where domesticity stops being a pleasure and becomes a chore?’

  Maddie answered. ‘It depends what else is going on in your life. It’s a pleasure as long as it’s satisfying. Otherwise it’s just a chore.’

  ‘Is it a pleasure or a chore for you, Maddie?’

  ‘Both, I would say.’

  Sara looked at her directly. ‘But aren’t you bored being alone all the time?’

  ‘She’s not alone,’ protested Jemima. ‘She’s got us.’

  ‘But that’s not enough,’ said Sara.

  Maddie thought about it. ‘Am I bored? Yes, I suppose I am, in a way,’ she admitted.

  ‘What was Tom like?’

  Maddie’s eyes softened, looking inward to the place where he still lived and everything that had happened since was just a dream. She smiled as she answered. ‘He was very physical, broad-shouldered and narrow in the hips.‘

  ‘That sounds like Caz,’ said Jemima.

  Maddie nodded. ‘But unlike Caz, your father was always talking. He had a wicked sense of humour. He used to make me laugh until I cried.’

  ‘Sounds like Jas,’ said Sara.

  ‘Yes, like Jas,’ agreed Maddie. ‘He did some crazy things. Most people really liked him. A few couldn’t cope with him. Sometimes that was difficult but it was mostly funny too.’

  ‘Definitely like Jas,’ said Jemima.

  ‘And then he died, and the laughter died with him,’ said Sara.

  Their eyes met.

  ‘Yes,’ Maddie admitted, ‘the laughter died with him.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ exclaimed Jemima. ‘We still laugh, you know we do.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not the same,’ objected Sara. ‘You need a lover, Maddie.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not my department any more.’

  ‘Why?’

  Maddie laughed ruefully. ‘My children told me they would find me one. As you can see, I’m still waiting.’

  ‘That’s because no one’s good enough,’ said Jemima.

  ‘For her, or for you?’ asked Sara.

  ‘If they’re good enough for her, they’ll be fine for us too.’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit selfish?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t. How could she be happy with someone we didn’t like?’

  ‘She wouldn’t fancy your boyfriends.’

  ‘I should hope not!’

  ‘So why should it be any different for her?’

  ‘It just is,’ said Jemima obstinately. ‘Isn’t it, Ma?’

  Maddie opened the oven door. A burst of steam evaporated into the hot room.

  ‘Perhaps that would depend on the lover,’ she said carefully. ‘The bread’s done. Are the teacakes ready, Jem?’

  Jemima put a finger to the warm, skin-soft dough left to rise on a tray under a cloth. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t want my kids telling me what to do,’ said Sara. ‘I can’t see the point in always being encouraged to develop my individuality if I’m going to have to end up suppressing it, just so that my children can have the convenient ‘parent’ label to categorise me with.’

  Jemima immediately objected. ‘We don’t categorise Ma.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ Sara answered. ‘You don’t expect her to need any kind of a life other than what you are prepared to allow her.’

  ‘But we are her life.’

  ‘Only temporarily. In a few years’ time you’ll be going to university and what do you expect her to do then? Families don’t live just for each other any more. Your grandparents live more than two hundred miles away in the West Country. Mine live in Oxford. We don’t expect to see each other more than once or twice a year, and that’s normal rather than exceptional nowadays.’

  ‘But that makes it more special when we do,’ argued Jemima.

  ‘It doesn’t alter the fact that our generation is going to have to completely re-evaluate this parent thing and how we go about it. Your mother isn’t just a mother. She is a whole person who needs to be with interesting people with similar values.’

  ‘Well, this family’s going to stay together,’ said Jemima doggedly. ‘We’re all going to live here with the horses forever.’

  ‘That won’t be enough for Maddie.’

  ‘But I don’t go anywhere to meet interesting people,’ said Maddie. ‘I have to work.’

  ‘Then your lover will have to come to you,’ declared Sara. ‘Maybe he’ll come to the pub.’

  ‘Except that no one new ever goes to that pub,’ said Jemima complacently.

  A tiny, secret smile touched Maddie’s lips. They do sometimes, she thought. They have red hair, and this time brown eyes, not grey. Tom would laugh – me and the vicar.

  She realised both girls were looking at her. ‘It’s so hot in here,’ she said briskly, and turned to open the window before they saw her blush.

  But Jemima wore her wary face and Sara had seen the smile.

  CHAPTER 13

  Caz smelled bread baking when he came around the path to the back door at the lodge. He heard the women talking and the clatter of cutlery in the sink, and was comforted.

  I have come home after a long day working in the fields. The bread is baking and the meat is roasting on the spit. There’s a tankard of ale ready for me on the table and the women are at the hearth tending the fire. He stood back from the open door, admiring them. They are the three Fates at the roots of my little life in this world of shadows. Will they find my body hanging in the tree at Thunderslea if I die in that other place on Hag Night?

  Sara saw him first – unshaven with the dark rings around his eyes and his shoulders bowed in complete exhaustion after a night without rest. She threw her arms around him and walked him over the threshold. ‘Come in and be loved! We’re being domestic this morning.’

  ‘I can tell,’ he said, laughing as she dragged off his jacket and pushed him into the rocking chair.

  ‘Get completely comfortable. You’re not to move an inch unless we tell you to.’

  The women asked no questions of him on this quiet, autumn morning of ragged mist and pale sun. His mother brought him cushions and coffee. Sara scooped up Kresh and laid her in his lap, and pulled off his wet boots. Kush curled around his neck, licking at the stubble on his throat as he swallowed the coffee. Jemima took the cup and filled it again.

  ‘It’s brewed to death, just how you like it.’ She was trying not to sound anxious. ‘And I’ve made teacakes. You can have them with peanut butter or jam and cream.’

  ‘I’ll have three tonight,’ promised Caz.

  ‘Couldn’t you try just one now and tell us if they’re okay?’ wheedled Sara.

  He grinned. ‘I’m okay with coffee.’

  Sara made a little moue of disappointment. ‘We could split one between us.’

  ‘Where’s Jas?’ he asked, changing the su
bject.

  ‘Working. Didn’t you see him up at the house?’

  ‘No, I didn’t go in.’

  I didn’t need any more of Daisy’s questions, he thought wearily. He had spent time checking out the swans, recognising all of them from the year before. Sadly, white-eyed Delilah was not among them. He decided not to tell Jemima. It was best to let her find out for herself. She bent over him, teasing out a twig tangled in his hair.

  ‘We ride wild horses together,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘You can’t be not well.’

  ‘I am well, little sister.’

  ‘You’re just tired then?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Jas will be home soon,’ said Sara, with one eye on the clock. ‘We should check the hugely hungry stew.’

  They each took a spoon and stood around the pot, tasting the bubbling broth.

  ‘Does it need more salt and pepper?’ asked Maddie.

  Sara took another spoonful. ‘A bit more, I think.’

  ‘What about some sage?’ Jemima suggested.

  ‘That’s what’s missing,’ agreed Maddie.

  ‘And dumplings,’ said Sara. ‘I make seriously wicked dumplings on a good day and this is a good day. I can feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Challenge!’ cried Jemima. ‘Daisy’s been teaching me all her secrets in case she dies and there’s no one left to feed Sir Jonas.’

  Sara laughed. ‘Challenge accepted!’

  They raced each other to the pantry, squabbling goodnaturedly over flour and bowls. Jemima grabbed the weighing scales. ‘Me first!’

  Caz rocked the chair, amused and comfortable with the cats. ‘You are the three Norns stirring the white water in the cauldron of Fate,’ he told them.

  ‘So which one is which?’ asked Jemima, detecting a story.

  Caz looked at his mother. ‘You are Urth, Ma,’ he said, rolling the r and softening the th to a whisper. ‘You are Eldest and Norn of the Past.’

  ‘What am I?’ asked Sara eagerly.

  ‘You are Elder Sister so you must be Verthandi, the Ever-Present.’

  ‘That’s nice! Say it again. I want to hear how you pronounce it.’

  ‘Verthandi,’ he repeated, lightening the er almost to air before the soft th.

  Sara put her head on one side. ‘Will you always call me that?’

  ‘If you want.’

  ‘I do want.’

  ‘Then I will always think of you as Verthandi even if I don’t remember to say it. How’s that?’

  She grinned. ‘It’s good.’

  ‘That leaves me as the Norn of the Future,’ said Jemima. ‘So what’s my name?’

  ‘You are Skuld.’

  Jemima pulled a disappointed face. ‘That sounds too much like school to me.’

  ‘The d on the end makes it nothing like school, not even by implication.’

  ‘I’d rather be a sibyl than a Norn.’

  ‘Technically they are one and the same thing.’

  She shrugged and smiled. ‘Whatever, I’ll stick with Sibylla.’

  Caz watched his sister mixing the dough, listening to her happy laughter now that her concern for him was eased. Maddie took his empty cup and filled it. The sugar bowl was empty. She gave him the box. He smiled his thanks, dropping the crystal cubes into the coffee one at a time, letting the bubbles rise and burst… another cube… more bubbles… another cube.... more bubbles.

  Is our family cursed? he wondered yet again. Whatever it is that leads me to World Tree could also take my sister. I should be telling her what a bargain with the Goddess might really mean, but she would never believe me. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t believe me either.

  Sara interrupted his reverie. ‘What do they look like, these Norns? Are they beautiful?’

  ‘They’re supposed to be crones.’

  ‘So I am a crone who is stuck in the past,’ observed Maddie.

  ‘Only because you let us keep you there,’ he answered quietly. ‘You’re wasted on us, Ma. We’re no fun for you. One day you’ll admit it and decide to get on with your life.’

  ‘Then maybe I should take more notice of Verthandi,’ she said, smiling at Sara.

  Caz looked from one to the other. The scent of conspiracy hung in the air. ‘What’s going on?’

  They laughed.

  ‘Women’s stuff,’ said Jemima demurely.

  CHAPTER 14

  Alan waited until the breakfast was cleared away on Monday morning before he tried out the key to the mysterious cupboard in the office. Daisy and John were busy in the herb garden. The horses were due to be shod and Maddie was in the yard waiting for the farrier. Blue was ordered to stay in his bed beside the stove in the kitchen.

  The atmosphere in the office was heavy with chemical smells of sealant and paint. Alan put down his tools and opened the window. Someone had written lift-off in the dust on the ledge. The doors had been partially stripped of layers of their old chipped paint and the walls were a mass of sanded, white filler tracks. The telephone stood on a chair by the door under a plastic bag.

  He hung the spotlight on the hook in the ceiling directly above the trap door that John had discovered and set about lifting out the screws. The heads were pitted and scratched but the heavy trap lifted easily when all the holes were clear, opening out on well-greased hinges to lay flat on the floor behind it. Alan dangled the spotlight into the dark opening. A flight of stone steps led down into what looked like another wine cellar. He lowered the light on its long cable until it touched the floor at the bottom, selected a long-handled hammer and a pickaxe from the pile of tools and went down the stairs.

  As usual in the manor wine cellars, the walls were divided into sections by heavy wooden beams in-filled with patterned brick, leaving a narrow space between the big, custom-built racks arranged opposite each other in each section. These racks were empty and covered in a layer of fine white dust that looked and tasted like cement, and there was a big open space at the far end of the cellar where the stone floor showed signs of having been hastily swept before the trapdoor was sealed.

  Alan paced the cellar from end to end and side to side, comparing its size and location with the rest of the house. Where the empty space appeared to extend beyond the foundations, the bricks in the two sections facing each other appeared to have been more recently built than the others. There had been no attempt to follow the usual pattern, and the mortar was weak and crumbling in places. He paced the floor once more to be sure of his calculations.

  This end must sit outside the level of the old garden wall under the path, he thought, but the supporting beams are still sound. I don’t believe the bricks were put there just to fill in a hole. So let’s see what they really do.

  He swung the pickaxe at the wall on the north side. The first blow sent a cloud of mortar dust billowing out into the cellar. When he hit the wall a second time, long cracks appeared between the bricks and the beams. The wall shuddered and wavered under the third blow, and the top half fell in with the fourth. When the dust had cleared, he saw another open space dimly lit by daylight that was filtering down what looked like a wide passageway opening out on the opposite wall. He smashed down what was left of the brick infill and climbed over the rubble.

  The underground room he had uncovered was twice the width he had anticipated, a good eight strides wide and fifteen strides in length. The walls had been rendered. Only one corner on the wall above the passage opening was mouldered green with damp. There were tethering rings let into the cement at intervals down both sides and a long harness hook hanging from the ceiling. He turned a tap at the end of a long pipe disappearing into the wall and a gush of water ran out over the floor. With growing excitement, he walked up the sloping passage that he guessed must follow the line of the garden wall. The light was coming in though the knotholes in a line of planks that had been nailed to the back of the old shed in the garden on the other side.

  He returned to the cellar and began smashing the pickaxe into the b
ricks on the wall on the south side, until the layers of stones and earth behind them gave way and collapsed. The air in the dark space beyond was wholesome, as he knew it would be. At last he knew why the full extent of that hidden underground earthwork had been built so high and so wide. It wasn’t just put there for people to make use of. Horses were meant to go that way too.

  CHAPTER 15

  At twenty-six minutes to three that same afternoon, Caz put his empty flask on the counter in the coffee shop. There was no sign of Lauren. There was still time to leave but everything told him this girl wouldn’t give up so easily.

  The waitress allowed herself a rare smile. ‘The usual fill-up?’

  ‘Thanks Mary.’

  ‘And one for the road while you’re waiting?’

  ‘You’re a star.’

  He sat on the stool at the end of the counter cradling the hot cup and assimilating the caffeine-blast. Mary cut a corner off the slab of chocolate cake, wrapped it and put it down in front of him.

  ‘I know, I know, ’ she said gruffly when she saw him about to protest. ‘It’ll keep for later.’

  Melanie had slipped him a note as he was leaving.

  Band practice report re. LTT: Seems okay, wants everyone at her Hallowe’en party, will be gone ‘back home’ by Christmas. Love you, Mel.

  Dear Mel, he thought fondly. No matter what I do, she’s always there for me. Maybe I’ll end up marrying her some day, but only if I can be sure she’ll ride into battle with me. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if she can ride. The idea made him smile.

  Meanwhile he had to make up his mind what to do about Lauren. There was a private room on the first floor that Mary let him use when the place was crowded and he needed some space. It was handy when a girl had to be let down gently, but he sensed that this one would be more of a challenge than most.

  Oh, why not? he decided. I’ve had a tough couple of days and she won’t be around long enough to be a problem. If all else fails it won’t take much to make her hate me. Maybe we’ll both be gone by Christmas, but in very different directions.