Entwined (10 page)

CHAPTER 9

The revelation silenced the room. None of us moved, not even to blink, every eye was trained on Harry in a fixed stare. I couldn’t in my wildest dreams, have predicted the words he had just spoken. Questions whirled through my head, causing an ever thickening fog of confusion.

“Where is Rose’s mother now?” Simon asked, with an edge of accusation to his voice.

“I told you,” Harry replied quietly. “She’s gone.”

“But you didn’t say where she’d gone,” Simon challenged his friend.

“No, I didn’t. And nor will I, because I don’t know.”

Simon stared at the man with the dark threatening look I understood to mean trouble. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

“Because I couldn’t,” the pub owner replied simply.

“Don’t lie to me, Harry. I make an unpleasant enemy,” Simon warned.

“Everything I have told you is the truth. Jessie and her mother had to go back. It was too dangerous for them to stay here any longer. I… I stayed with Rose to finish the job they came to do.”

“And what job was that?” Simon growled.

“To wait for you,” Harry snapped. “My daughter and I have gone to hell and back because someone had to stay here and wait for you three.”

Simon raised his brows in question. “Explain yourself, man. What do you mean you stayed here to wait for us?”

“That’s what Jessie and Giorsal were doing here. They came to wait for you three. Only they didn’t know exactly when you would come, so they waited nearly twenty years for you. In the end they could wait no longer.”

“So my Mum and Gran aren’t dead?” Rose whispered.

“No, Rose, both your Mother and Gran are safe - for now - but time is running out.”

“What do you mean ‘time is running out’?” Simon asked.

“Just what I said. There is much to be done and time is short,” replied Harry.

“That’s what Eilidh said when she came into the shop,” I interrupted, suddenly recalling the girl’s words. “I was half asleep, so I supposed I must have forgotten it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Simon. She said almost exactly what Harry has just said.”

“Why didn’t my Mum tell me?” Rose asked.

“She couldn’t, Rose. The less you knew, the safer you would be.”

“Is Rose immortal?” Simon asked.

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? She either is or she isn’t,” Simon barked.

“None of you are, not here. Jessie and her people have protected and hidden the Stag for years, but they can’t hide it forever. The Dark Circle must be stopped, and soon.”

“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” said Kate timidly. “But none of this has anything to do with Grace and as far as we know she is still out there in the snow.”

“I’m coming to Grace. Don’t fret, girl, she is safe for now,” said Harry gently.

Simon reached for a bottle of whisky on the bar and topped up all three glasses up.

“Tell me, Harry… How can I be sure you aren’t part of this Dark Circle?” Simon asked, passing the glass of whisky to the innkeeper.

“Because Jessie left me this,” he said, opening the fist he had been clutching.

“It’s a locket of heather and a crystal. Together they are powerful enough to protect you all from most things.” He paused, staring down at the tiny oval crystal and silver locket in his hand. “Go on, take it,” he said, holding out his hand to Simon. “If I meant you any harm I’d hardly be giving you the tools with which to protect yourself, now would I?”

“Do you know what these things are for?” I asked Harry.

“Yes, and we are going to need more than we have.”

“Where are we supposed to find more? It’s hardly as if we can just pop out and get one from a supermarket,” I said in frustration.

“I don’t know where we are going to find more, all I know is that Jessie told me you would need three of each.”

“What is it you want us to do?” Simon asked, taking the locket and crystal off Harry and pushing them into his trouser pocket.

“Get to your people, before the twenty-first of this month, and fix the mess Angus made.”

“Not much then,” Duncan mumbled sarcastically.

Harry ignored Duncan and turned to face Kate. “Grace is one of the messes Angus created,” he said, drawing a deep breath and sliding his hands into his pockets. “I could have stopped her going but then we would have had a bigger problem to fix.”

“I don’t understand, Harry. Where’s she gone?” Kate asked, growing mildly hysterical. “I don’t follow any of this.”

“It’s OK, girl,” he said, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s a lot to get your head around but you will understand it in time.”

“Please just tell me where Grace is?” Kate pleaded.

“She is in the past, Kate.”

“Nonsense, Harry. This isn’t funny any more. I know you filled her head with some daft stuff, and that fortune teller scared the life out her. The lot of you are as nutty as a fruitcake. I’m calling the police and
they
can look for her.”

“No, you’re not, Kate. Listen to me,” Harry said, looking nervously across at Duncan. “I will prove that what I have told you is the truth.

“I’ll hear you out, Harry, but I warn you - if Grace is in danger I’m out of here and down to the police station.”

Harry stood and walked across to my son. Lifting the bottle of whisky, he topped up his glass.

“You’re gonna need this, kid,” he said, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Before Grace came to York she lived in Derbyshire. She has a daughter, Jenny, and a husband, Jack. Only Jack…,” he paused moving his eyes searchingly from Simon to me, and then bringing them to rest on Duncan.

“The man Grace was married to was Angus…”

We stared, open-mouthed, in disbelief at Harry. A stunned silence followed but it was brief and punctuated only by the sound of Harry filling his glass.

“When Grace left him she took with her a necklace.”

Simon slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out a chain, on the end of which, was a small oval crystal pendant.

“Like this one?” he asked, taking care not to catch the flames of the fire on its reflective surface.

“Yes, just like that one. Where did you get it?” Harry asked.

“Duncan and I discovered it in his trouser pocket after he died. We used the one Corran found on him to get rid of his body and kept this one in case we should ever need it.”

Simon reached across the bar and grabbed the bottle of whisky by the neck. “I’m guessing that the baby Angus tried to steal was Grace’s child?” he said, and turned his head to face Harry, “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.” Harry shook his head. “You’re not wrong, fella.”

“I don’t get it. I was only with Grace a few hours ago. She didn’t look very pregnant to me,” Kate interrupted.

“Let the man finish,” Simon said firmly.

The girl froze at his voice and turned to Harry with a look of apology.

“Grace was pregnant. She was pregnant before she went back in time. She carried her husband’s child, not the Cavalier’s. The baby was why I had to let her go, it was, oh God, I actually don’t know how to tell you all this,” Harry said, slumping back into a chair and draining his glass.

There was a long silence as we waited. My head spun, my back ached and my eyes felt heavy. Whilst most of Harry’s revelations had been disturbing I felt my mind would better cope with the information were I able to sleep for a few hours.

“The child was stolen by a member of the Dark Circle… A man called John. He took the baby and deposited it on the banks of the river Ouse in April 1696.”

My stomach contracted. I retched, turned to the side, and was sick. I shook uncontrollably, my heart raced and I swayed forward. Simon was beside me cupping my forehead in the palm of his hand. With his other hand he held me firmly on the chair.

“Try and breath, lass,” he whispered, gently. “I’m here, it’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Rose asked.

“Will you get her a drink of water, please?” Simon said, lifting his hand from my forehead.

The dizziness had passed and I’d stopped retching, but the words Harry had just delivered stuck in my heart like a dagger.

Heaving myself out of the chair I rose to stand unsteadily. Simon slid his hand under my elbow and another around my waist. I breathed deeply and straightened my shoulders before turning to my son.

“Duncan,” he met my eyes. I held his look willing him never to break it. “Darling… Harry has just told you who your real mother is.”

Without further comment I slid from my husband’s hold and left the room. No one tried to stop me, no one called out for me, no one followed me. I felt their eyes watching me, following my every step, but no one came.

There were a million unanswered questions, conversations that needed to happen, but they would have to wait because the only thought that filled my mind was the son I had just lost. Time would not erase what we had just learnt and my son would never again be truly mine.

A gut-wrenching pain tore me apart. I screamed silently in agony as every thought twisted the knife deeper into the already gaping wound. The baby inside me squirmed and the wound widened. Etched in the forefront of my mind was the face of the woman whose child I had raised. The woman who had lost her baby to me. I felt and feared her pain as a sickening boil of hatred burst inside me. My heart was broken by grief and sorrow for I knew that I must return her son.

Exhaustion welcomed sleep and eventually with a pillow resting between my knees, I allowed it to claim me. Peace didn’t come so easily, with dreams of confused emotions and past pains haunting my mind.

It was late afternoon before I rose to find Simon’s side of the bed untouched. My head pounded as I rolled onto my back and pushed myself up. There was a small knock at my door followed by the sound of my son’s voice.

“Ma, it’s me, Duncan. Can I come in?”

“Of course you can, darling,” I groaned silently. This wasn’t a meeting I was ready to have. I needed more time to come to terms with everything that had happened. But I wouldn’t turn him away because I knew that he needed me now more than he had ever needed me before.

He moved slowly into the room, his features drawn and tired.

“Come and sit, love,” I said, patting the top of the quilt.

My son had never been awkward in my company before, but at this moment there was an uncomfortable tension between us. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, his fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the quilt. He couldn’t meet my eyes and gazed instead at the floral red pattern of the carpet.

“Duncan, look at me darling,” I said softly, reaching out and putting the palm of my hand on the top of his. He stiffened, and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. “Duncan,” I tried again, taking two short breaths, “I will always be here for you. Nothing will ever change that, nothing will ever change our history, but I understand that you must find your mother. She is the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who should have brought you up.”

I paused as I felt his hand move. It turned and cupped mine and held it as if his very life depended on it being in his grip. He lifted his eyes to meet mine and I saw the tears in his eyes. “Darling, she didn’t abandon you as we thought. She loves you, and deserves to know you as much as you deserve to know her.”

My son turned and put his arms around me. He lowered his head onto my shoulder and the tears he had been holding back flowed freely. I bit my bottom lip until it bled in an attempt to contain my own unshed tears. “Shh, darling it’s alright, I’m here,” I whispered as a single tear rolled down my cheek.

“Ma, I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed.

“It’s alright, Duncan. Your Pa and I will be right here with you all the time. We will help you, darling, but we have to find your mother. Of that there is no question.”

“I know,” he whispered, “but no one will ever replace you.”

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