Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (27 page)

A sudden burst of laughter made her look up. It was a rare sound in the house now. Dan had given up on his program and joined Steph in the kitchen. Through the open door Laura could see the two of them enjoying a small joke. As Steph’s laughter subsided she wiped away a tear or two. Dan stepped forward and put his arms around her, pulling her close in a friendly, comforting embrace. She thought how lucky she was to have such a caring and sensitive man for a husband. The thought made a small knot of guilt tighten in her stomach. She sighed and forced herself to concentrate.

Local legend had it that Merlin had spent a summer in the area before going on to Camelot and the court of King Arthur. He had lived high in the mountains, and the more Laura read, the more she was convinced the dwelling described as his was in fact Rhys’s croft. She paused, looking into the flames once more. So, not her own house. What was his connection with Penlan? She read on. The story told how Merlin had fallen in love with a local girl, the daughter of a breeder of horses. Her name was Megan, and she had returned Merlin’s affections. However, the local noble, and her employer, Lord Geraint ap Gruffydd, had a feud with Merlin and tried to have him killed. Laura turned the page. Her hand shot to her mouth to stifle a cry. There was a picture she had not noticed before. It was small, only a quarter of a page, but still the detail was clear. It showed Merlin kneeling on the ground, in his arms a young girl, clearly either dead or dying. The girl had fine, angular features, long limbs, and waist-length, wavy auburn hair. She resembled Laura so closely it could have been her own portrait. Looking at the picture Laura realized how much her own appearance had altered since arriving at Penlan. Who or what had brought that about? Rhys? Merlin? The place itself? In any case, the result had been to transform her from city artist to the image of a medieval heroine. The image of this girl. Merlin’s lover. As Laura turned the book a little to allow more light to fall on the illustration something slipped from the pages and fluttered to the floor. She picked it up. It was half a white envelope, torn lengthways to make a bookmark. Laura checked the cover of the book again. It was one of the ones she had borrowed from Rhys’s collection. She studied the grubby strip of paper, cursing the fact that she had let it drop out before seeing what page it had been marking. The name Rhys Fisher was typed on the front, along with a Cardiff address she did not recognize. She was about to throw it in the stove when something in the words of the red postmark on the envelope caught her eye. The print was quite faded and faint, but still readable. Lawnsdale Hospital, it said on the first line, then, underneath in smaller letters, Peterborough Mental Health Trust.

“Something riveting?” Dan asked, handing her a fresh glass of wine.

Laura snapped the book shut with the bookmark inside it, hoping she did not look as shaken as she felt.

“Oh, more local history. Helps me paint the place, the more I know about it.” She took the glass from him, wondering if she would ever be able to explain to him the real reasons for her interest—and fighting growing anxiety at what the envelope could mean.

“I forgot to mention,” Dan’s tone was light, but his expression gave away his concern, “Penny rang earlier. While you were in the bath.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She was keen to speak to you.”

“Must have been, phoning so late.”

“She said she’s left messages endlessly. You haven’t been returning her calls.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. We all have.”

“Of course, but…”

“But what?” she snapped, not enjoying having Dan mention something she already felt a niggling guilt about. She knew Penny had been phoning, but hadn’t the gumption to call her. What was she supposed to say? She was miles off from being ready for the show, and she wouldn’t be able to lie to Penny about it.

“I think she’s a bit concerned,” Dan said gently. “You know, the show being only a few weeks away. And she hasn’t seen your new work yet, and…”

“Yes, OK, don’t go on.”

“I wasn’t. But she does have a point. You’re usually so much more together about your exhibitions. This time you seem to be getting more stressed out and grouchy and not getting any actual work done.” He sighed, shaking his head. “So much for a more peaceful life in the countryside. Whatever happened to that rural idyll you talked me into?”

“Dan, why don’t you come right out and say it?”

“Say what?”

“That moving out here was all my idea. That if we’d stayed in London none of this would have happened.”

“Nobody is blaming you.”

“Aren’t they? Aren’t you? Just because you don’t actually say it doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking it.”

“OK!” Dan was shouting now. “OK, if that’s the conversation you want then let’s have it! Yes, this place was what you wanted—your idea, your dream. And no, I didn’t want to come here, but I was prepared to give it a go because you wanted it so badly.”

“Give it a go? You spend more time in London than you do here. You haven’t done anything about looking for a job nearby.”

“No, I haven’t, and d’you know why? Because I reckon that if I wait long enough you’ll get bored with all this rustic living crap and come to your senses. Then we can buy a house back in London and get on with our lives again.”

“I knew it! You never intended to commit to this move. You were just pretending, waiting for me to get some … some whim out of my system!”

“What choice did you give me? You were never going to be satisfied until you’d bought a place like this and dragged us out here. I told you from the beginning I didn’t like the idea, but you wouldn’t listen. What Laura wants, Laura damn well gets!”

Laura opened her mouth to respond but in that instant all the fight went out of her and she felt close to tears. Head down, she pushed past Dan and strode upstairs.

Later, as they were getting undressed, Dan came to stand close behind her. He stretched out a tentative hand and touched her hair.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

“Please be straight with me, Dan.”

“I am. I do want this to work. I just need a bit more time. And, well, what with Angus…”

“I know.”

There was a moment of silence. Laura found herself wishing he would just let the whole thing drop. She really didn’t feel up to a serious discussion about their future plans. Her head was too full already to take in anything more.

Dan leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling gently into the back of her neck.

“I really am sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “Please let’s not fight. I can’t cope with any of this if we’re hurting each other.”

“Hush now,” he said, pulling her closer.

They stood without moving for a long while, silently drawing strength from a closeness and familiarity born of years of intimacy. She felt tears sting her eyes at the thought of what she had done to Dan. She blinked them away, wishing that, just for a few moments at least, she could pretend everything was as it had been before. What a difference a few short months had made to all of them.

“You know I love you, Laura,” he told her. She fancied she could hear tears choking his voice. “I will always love you. No matter what.”

No matter what? What did he mean? Did he know about her and Rhys? Had he known all along? Or was it what had happened to Angus that had made him say such a thing? Laura dearly wanted to say something meaningful back, something honest and loving. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead she lifted one of his hands and kissed it fondly.

“Are you OK?” he asked. “Really OK, I mean?”

Laura nodded.

“And us, Laura? Are we OK, too?”

How could she answer? She closed her eyes. She so wanted to be able to say yes, they were fine. They would always be fine. But so much had happened, there was so much she still did not understand about herself, about what she was experiencing, and about what sort of future she and Dan could have together. She took a deep breath.

“I think we will be,” she said carefully. “I’m sure we will be. Soon.”

Dan’s body tensed but he did not move. There was a silence in which Laura could sense him struggling to take in what she had just said. So few words, and yet so loaded was each one they were almost too heavy to bear. She had, in fact, admitted that they were not OK, and if he had harbored any suspicions about her fling with Rhys then she had just as good as admitted everything. But, beyond that, she had tried to reassure him. To give him hope. She waited for him to react. At last he kissed her shoulder and stepped away.

“That’s good,” he said, his back to her as he walked toward the bathroom. “Good enough for me. Think I’ll take a quick shower.”

She watched him close the door and heard the water turned on. Now she could breathe again. Dan was a good man, a man who knew how to love somebody. He could have quizzed her there and then, he could have cornered her and pressed her for answers, but he had not. He had said he would love her no matter what, and he had clearly meant it. He was prepared to wait for her to come out of whatever she was going through. She silently cursed herself for her own stupid selfishness.

*   *   *

M
EGAN SAT ON
the rough floor of her prison and accepted the fact that however accustomed her eyes became to the darkness, she was never going to be able to see so much as a chink of light. The stonemason had done his work well, so that no glimmer of a torch reached her from the dungeon, and the outer wall of the castle was at least the thickness of two oak trees. No sunlight could force its way through. She closed her eyes, finding her own darkness less frightening. The initial horror at her entombment had subsided, and now she found herself devoid of feeling and unable to think clearly. She longed for Merlin, to hear his voice, to feel the comfort of his strong arms about her. And yet, above all, she wished him safe, and for him to come to the castle would be to put himself at great risk. For a moment Megan wondered what it would be like, to die of thirst and of hunger. Would she simply get weaker and drift into a final sleep? Would she become raving and delirious? Would there be pain? Would she be able to breathe for more than a few hours in this airless place of endless night? She stood up quickly, hugging herself, rubbing her arms. She must not give in to despair. Whether she wished it or not, Merlin would not abandon her. He would come. He would find her as he had promised he would, and they would be together again. She must endure and be patient. She paced the small space, her hands out in front of her, becoming familiar with the curve of the outer wall and the straightness of the inner one. Round and round she walked, calming herself with the rhythm of her steps. Her head still hurt, though Megan had been able to remove the bandage. She was exhausted from all that had happened and from fear and grief. She moved to the far corner of the room and lay down on the cold flagstones. She could feel the dirt beneath her hands as she folded them under her head for a pillow. She imagined the grimy state of her beautiful dress now. At least it was thick and warm, though she knew all too well that it would not be able to keep out the bone chilling cold of her tomb for long. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. Peaceful, renewing, safe sleep. At last, she felt herself drifting and relaxed into the blissful moment before slumber would remove her from her torment.

A scratching noise at the inner wall reached her ears. At once she was awake again. She sat up, instinctively looking toward the sound even though she could see nothing. It could have been a rat or a bat or a mouse, but there was something in the purposeful nature of the noise that suggested a human hand. Megan waited and listened.

“Megan?” The voice was no more than a whisper, and at first Megan thought she had imagined it. Then it came again. “Megan? Are you there?”

“Huw!” Megan flung herself against the wall, straining to listen for more words. “Huw? Can you hear me?”

“Oh Megan! You
are
in there!” the little boy said in a mixture of sobs and whispers. “Poor, poor Megan! Why has Father done such a terrible thing? I shall go to him and tell him he must let you out. He must!”

“No! No, Huw. Do not tell your father you have been here.” She kept her own voice as level and calm as she could. “If he knew you had spoken to me he would stop you coming again, Huw. You can help me, but you must be careful.”

“Tell me what to do, Megan. I will do anything. You have only to ask.”

Megan was deeply touched by the child’s affection for her and his determination to help. She was reluctant to involve him, knowing that there were limits to his father’s feelings for the boy. How angry might he be if he discovered Huw had been helping her? But she had no choice. At this moment, he offered her only chance of survival.

“I need water, Huw. And some food. Can you fetch them without being seen?”

“Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

“Wait! One more thing, Huw. Bring a tool, something sharp. We will have to make a small hole in the wall. Not a hammer though. We would be heard. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Megan. Fear not, I will look after you.”

Huw scampered away, and his absence after such brief but vital contact left Megan feeling even more alone than she had before. At least now she had hope. There were means of staying alive. That her life now depended on one small boy was a frightening thought, but it was just possible that Huw could indeed make the difference between living or dying. She felt along the inner wall again, searching with her fingertips for the smallest crevice, the tiniest flaw in the mason’s handiwork. At last, at a low point where the new wall met the old, she found an indent where two stones where not well matched. The lime mix between them was still not completely set. She started to scratch at it but could make no impression at all with her nails. She needed something sharp or hard. She felt about on the floor for any stray pieces of stone, but there was none. Exasperated, she stood up again. She could not leave everything to Huw. There must be something she could do, she thought, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. Of course! Her ring! She wriggled it off her finger, her skin cooler now than before. She unthreaded a ribbon from the neckline of her dress and wrapped it around the silver of the ring giving her a better handle and leaving only the sharp gem protruding. She began to dig at the wall, timidly at first, then, feeling that she was making progress, with more vigor.