Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (26 page)

She quickly climbed the fence, crossed the field, and strode up the garden path. She hammered on the front door. Silence. She tried again. At last there were noises inside. She could hear sounds of a key being turned, and the door was pulled open. To Laura’s great relief, it was Anwen who stood on the threshold.

“Hello,” said Laura, not quite knowing how to explain why she had come. “I’m so glad I found you in.” She smiled, but was unsure of the reception she was going to get, after the incident with the spell.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Anwen told her. She turned and began to walk back into the house. “Don’t stand there all day with the door open,” she called back over her shoulder. “Glyn doesn’t light the fire to warm the garden.”

At the mention of his name Laura glanced nervously about her. The narrow passageway was dark, but she was sure the horrid dog would have made its presence felt by now had it been in the house. “Sit yourself down in there.” Anwen gestured toward the open door of the sitting room. “Kettle’s on. I’ll be there now in a minute.”

The sitting room was similar in size and shape to the one at Penlan, but higher ceilings and smaller beams suggested it was in fact several centuries younger. The fireplace had obviously been installed quite recently, for it boasted hideous cream tiles and a hearth too small for logs. At least the coal burned brightly. It was the only cheerful spot in an exceedingly gloomy room. Ragged curtains, neither closed nor open, hung limply at the north-facing window. The carpet was of dark green with dizzying gold swirls. Faded wallpaper of more than one design clung to the damp-looking walls. Laura pulled off her hat and undid her coat. There was a filthy armchair close to the fire, a seventies coffee table, and a sagging sofa. The only other piece of furniture in the room was an enormous Welsh dresser proudly displaying cups won at sheepdog trials, a lumpen clock, a bottle of whisky, a harvest jug, and a calendar featuring photographs of wild birds. She moved three weeks’ copies of the local paper to one side and sat gingerly on the sofa, wondering if it was the preferred place of the revolting dog. She was surprised not to see any sign of a woman’s hand in the home. It was as if Glyn had been in charge of interior design, and Anwen had not so much as added a single pretty cushion. Laura could well imagine Glyn was a difficult man to stand up to, but it seemed out of character for the cheerful old woman to live in such dreary surroundings.

Anwen came shuffling into the room carrying a tray which she set down on the coffee table.

“There we are, then,” she said, landing heavily in the armchair, sending up a small cloud of dust. “You be, Mam, it bothers my legs to stoop for more than a moment.”

Laura did as she was told, pleasantly surprised to see chintz china cups and saucers and even a teapot to match.

“This is gorgeous china, Anwen.”

“Glyn keeps it locked away. For best. Ha!” The old woman laughed her distinctive merry chuckle. “I’m blessed if I know what
best
the silly old fool is expecting! Two sugars in mine, please. And plenty of milk. That’s right,
cariad
.” Anwen took the tea from Laura, her shaking hand causing the cup to rattle alarmingly in its saucer. She stirred thoughtfully, then said, “Well, well, this is very nice, Laura, but you didn’t come to see me to talk about china and drink tea.” She slurped noisily, peering at her over the top of her cup.

Not for the first time Laura had the feeling Anwen knew a frightening amount about what was going on in her life. And indeed in her head.

“Well, first I want to thank you for stopping me. That dreadful spell. I had no idea what I was doing.”

Anwen nodded. “If I thought different we wouldn’t be sitting here together now,” she said. “But, no matter. No harm was done. This time.”

“Trust me, I won’t be trying anything like that again!” She paused, looking for the right words. “Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. Something happened. Something I don’t understand, or even quite believe, and yet I know that it did happen. I thought you might be able to help me make sense of it.”

Anwen nodded again but this time said nothing.

“I was on my own in the studio when I heard a noise,” Laura went on. “And I sort of sensed something,
someone,
was behind me.” She hesitated. However real the encounter had seemed to her, she still felt ridiculous trying to talk about it. Even to Anwen.

“He spoke to you?” Anwen asked.

Laura looked at her closely. It was almost as if the old woman had been expecting something like this. She did not seem in the least bit surprised. “Yes,” she said. “He spoke to me. And … he touched me.”

Anwen nodded, “So you believe he is real now, then, don’t you? How simple folk can be. You thought your mind was playing tricks, yet you are quite happy to believe what your fingertips tell you. Where does your true sense lie, Laura? In your mind or in your body?”

Laura was thrown by the question. She had been ready for Anwen to be astonished, amazed even, and for her to question what had happened. She had not expected her to be so quick to accept what she was being told, and then to be berated for not believing Merlin was
real
until she had touched him.

“This is hard for me, Anwen. I’m doing my best to convince myself I am not losing my mind. There are a lot of other things going on at home just now. Difficult things.”

“Ah.” A shadow passed over Anwen’s dimpled features. “You’re speaking of Rhys.”

“Not just Rhys. I know you don’t approve. And after the spell…” she said, rubbing her brow, feeling suddenly achingly tired. “Actually, its over between us. There never was anything really, at least, nothing that mattered. I was stupid. Stupid.”

“Have you told him that yet?”

“No. It’s not a good time. As I said, there are other things going on, my friend had a bad accident. He’s in hospital…”

“For one who is able to see what others cannot, my girl, you are very poor at seeing what is plainer than the nose on my face!” Anwen’s sharpness was in such contrast to her gentleness of seconds before that Laura spilled half her tea into her saucer.

“Please, don’t talk in riddles, Anwen. Not today. I know I’m probably being dim, but I need your help. Can we talk about Rhys another time?”

“Open your eyes! These things are all one and the same, all connected in the most elemental of ways. You might as well waste your time separating the clouds from the sky as separating those two men.”

Laura shook her head. “None of this makes any sense. You think Rhys and Merlin are the same person?”

“What I think doesn’t count for tuppence. It’s what Rhys thinks that matters. That’s what makes him do the things he does.”

Laura put down her tea with a sigh, feeling utterly confused.

The old woman seemed to sense her despair. She leaned back in the armchair, letting her cup and saucer rest in her ample lap.

“I know you came here for answers, Laura, but there are some things you have to discover for yourself. But, still, I meant what I said. You have nothing to fear from the wizard. He has sought you out because your destiny and his are bound together.”

“How on earth can that be?” Laura asked. “Why me? I’m a city girl, I don’t come from here. I don’t believe in spooks or ghouls or things that go bump in the night. I’ve never experienced anything remotely supernatural in my life before. Why would some long dead, mythological ghost want anything to do with me?”

“There’s that word
ghost
again.” Anwen tutted and shook her head. “Pour me another cup, and I will try to make things clear for you.”

She did as she was asked then leaned forward, elbows on her knees, desperate to hear what the curious creature in front of her had to say.

“You probably heard about Merlin many years ago. Storybooks, was it? History lessons? That thing over there?” She waved a pudgy hand at the television Laura had not, until that moment, noticed lurking under a tea towel in the corner of the room.

“I suppose so,” she said. “I’ve known who he was for as long as I can remember.”

“Exactly! And before that someone else knew about him all their lives. And after you others will read about him, too. And so he goes on. Don’t you see? As long as his story is alive, then so is he. People who exist in stories and legends can never die, not if those stories continue to be told, in whatever way, from generation to generation. I’ll wager you tell stories to those two young pups up at the house.”

“William and Hamish? Yes, they love to be read to.”

“Of course they do. What was the last tale you shared?”

Laura cast her mind back to the previous evening. “Hansel and Gretel,” she said.

“Oh those two! They’ve been about a fair number of years. And they will still be with us when your boys are telling their story to
their
children. Don’t you see?”

“Well, yes, I see that the
story
still exists. But not the people in it. You surely can’t mean every character from every book is running around somewhere on some sort of endless loop.”

“Not every story. Just the good ones,” she said with a little chuckle. “The ones that mean something. The ones that get passed on, that stand the test of time. Myths, if you like. Legends.”

“OK, if I accept that idea, why haven’t I been tripping over golden geese and Red Riding Hood and God knows who for years? Why just Merlin? And why now?”

“Better ask, why here?”

“Here? This place? All this has something to do with my moving here?”

“You said yourself you never experienced anything similar before you came here. All stories are rooted in a place. A landscape. It’s the magic ground where the characters live their lives. And some people, if they spend time in those places, if they are really lucky and maybe just a little bit special, with a special way of seeing, well, they can see the wonderful characters around them, forever living out their story, year after year, century after century, never growing old. Never dying.”

Laura was quiet for a moment, trying to take in what the old woman was telling her. She was very sure if someone had tried to get her to believe such a theory six months ago she would have laughed at them. But now, after what had happened, after actually meeting Merlin … There had to be an explanation, why not this one? A thought occurred to her.

“But, you said our destinies were linked somehow. Mine and Merlin’s. That sounds like more than just tapping into this … this other world that’s going on here. I didn’t go looking for him. He found me.”

The old woman smiled at this, her dimples deepening.

“Now you’re beginning to see things for yourself,
cariad
!”

“But why? Why would he seek me out?”

“To know the answer to that, Laura, you must look to his story.”

“But there are so many different ones. People have been writing stories about him for centuries. Where do I start?”

“I always find it’s a good idea to start out from wherever you are in the first place.”

“Now you’re talking in riddles again.”

Anwen laughed, her whole body wobbling like a blancmange, her apron strings threatening to snap at any moment. “You’ll work things out, eventually,” she said. “I have faith in you.”

“I don’t know why.”

“I trust Merlin’s judgment. He has chosen you. That’s all the recommendation I need.”

“You speak as if you know him.” Laura’s face lit up suddenly. “Do you see him, too, Anwen? Is that it? Does he talk to you? Oh, please tell me he does—then I won’t feel quite so much like I’m going completely mad.”

Anwen pursed her lips and said nothing. She closed her eyes and appeared to be deep in thought. The silence was so long Laura began to think she might have fallen asleep. Then, suddenly, her eyes sprang open again, her beady gaze fixed on Laura.

“Let me ask you something, Laura. What is the thing you long for most in this world, the thing that would make your heart sing and your life shine?”

Laura hesitated. She was certain that Anwen already knew the answer to this; she knew so much about her.

“A child,” she said at last, her strained voice giving away the constant emotion that went with the subject.

“Some people, clever people, sharp, quick-witted people, will see that need. They will recognize your longing as both your strength and your weakness. Your strength because disappointment and heartbreak have made you tougher and more determined. Your weakness because you could be made to do almost anything to get what you want. Your task, my dear, is to see who truly has the answer to your prayers. Even if it is a different answer from the one you expect.” Anwen pushed at the arms of the chair and rose slowly to her feet. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve chores to be doing.”

“Of course.” Laura stood up and gathered her things. She could see the old woman was tired, but there were still so many things she wanted to talk to her about. “Can I call again? Would you mind? You’ve been so helpful, and there’s really no one else I can turn to.”

“Well, of course, you’re quite wrong about that. But, yes, you come and see me again. I enjoy our little chats.”

As they reached the front door, Laura remembered the corn dolly.

“That corn dolly you gave me, Anwen, it was to protect me. It was to protect me from Rhys, wasn’t it?”

“I think, in your heart, you already knew who it is you have to fear,” said Anwen. Before Laura could question her further she had disappeared inside the house and shut the door.

11

T
HAT EVENING
L
AURA
was poor company. She knew she should be spending more time with Dan, and with Steph, but her conversation with Anwen was still spinning around in her head. After supper she gathered together all the books she had on Merlin and on local legends and settled down in a corner of the sitting room. Dan was trying to watch a documentary on snow leopards. Steph, unable to sit still, was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. Dan had got a good fire going and opened the doors of the wood-burning stove, the very sight of the flames being warming. Laura wondered how many other women had sat in that same spot, gazing into the fire, searching for answers. She picked up one of her books and flicked through the pages. It felt like an impossible task, looking for clues in so many thousands of words. It was all very well Anwen saying she needed to discover things for herself, but it would have been a lot simpler if she could have just explained things plainly. There were two questions in particular Laura dearly wanted to know the answers to. First, why had Merlin chosen to show himself to her, to make contact? Anwen had said she would find what she needed to know if she looked to his story, but Laura was worried she might not see the reason even if it were on the page in front of her. The second thing that would not go away was Anwen’s insistence that someone was a threat to Laura. She had seemed to suggest that it was Rhys, but could that really be true? He might not want their affair to end, and Laura had already accepted the fact that he might react badly and tell Dan everything. But beyond that, a threat? A danger? She shook her head and went back to the book.