Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (33 page)

“Don’t worry, my beautiful Laura, in time you will come to accept what is true. You must. We don’t have a choice in these things. We are the way Merlin and Megan will be reunited and have the family they longed for.”

Laura shook her head. “Rhys, you know I can’t conceive. You
know
that.”

“There are other ways to acquire children.”

“Acquire! What are you talking about—you can’t go out and buy babies! Listen to yourself, Rhys. You must know what you say is impossible.”

“No, it isn’t! I admit when you told me you couldn’t get pregnant I was thrown. Here was my Megan, but how could we have a child together? And then the boys came.”

“The boys?”

“William and Hamish. Two fine boys. We can raise them as our own. Soon they will forget they ever had other parents before us. We can live here and teach them everything they need to know.”

Under the pulsing light his features had taken on a fierceness that now, in his maniacal enthusiasm, looked truly terrifying. Laura tried to stay calm.

“Rhys, William and Hamish belong to Steph and Angus. Not to us.”

“But they could!”

“No! This is madness. A fantasy.”

“I can do this for you, Megan, for us.”

“My name is Laura! And I don’t want you to do anything for me!” She turned and ran toward the stairs, but he darted across the room and blocked her way.

“You have to have courage, my love. I will do what needs to be done. Don’t worry. Then we can all be together,” he said as he dropped down the stairs, slamming shut the door at the bottom.

Laura flung herself against it as she heard him push the bolt home.

“Rhys! Let me out! What are you going to do? Rhys!” she screamed, as she hammered on the unyielding wood. “Let me out!”

“Be patient, my love,” he said.

Laura heard the front door open and close and then there was silence. She kicked frantically at the door in front of her, but it did not give at all. She went back up the stairs, her mind in turmoil, terrified at what Rhys might be planning, at a loss to see what she could do to prevent it. He had taken the oil lamp with him so that the only light in the bedroom came from the solitary candle by the bed. She picked it up and made her way slowly around the room, searching for a way out. The window was tiny, and locked. Had he planned to trap her in here all along? She kicked at the small panes, but the frame was tough hardwood, and there was no way she was going to be able to break it—or squeeze out, even if she succeeded. The thought of what Rhys might be planning spurred her on. She put down the candle and picked up the bedside cabinet. She manhandled it to the window then heaved it at the glass with all her strength. One of the panes cracked, but beyond that nothing. It was futile. She picked up the candle again, near despair, clinging to the tiny light as to the small hope that Rhys was not going to do anything terrible. He said he would do what needed to be done to get the boys. What could that mean? Was he going to snatch them from their beds? They weren’t babies—he couldn’t just carry them away. And even if he did, Steph would just call the police and get them back. A new thought made her feel sick. What if there were no Steph? She searched her memory. Had she ever told Rhys that she and Dan were down as the boys’ potential guardians? Had she mentioned that if anything happened to Steph and Angus they would have legal custody of the children? With cold dread swamping her she remembered that she had told him. She had shown him a way he could indeed “acquire” children. But to do that he would have to get rid of Angus, which, after all, hadn’t he already tried? And perhaps succeeded? And now he would have to kill Steph. And Dan, if his plan were to be properly carried through.

“Oh my God,” Laura shouted aloud. “Help me! Somebody! Help me!” she screamed, and the breath from her cries blew out the candle. “No!” But it was too late. She was in darkness, save for the moonlight from the now half-blocked window. She felt herself beginning to panic. Here she was, locked in a dark room while a madman went to kill her husband and her best friend believing he was doing it for her. “Stay calm, Laura,” she told herself. “Your eyes will get used to the dark, then you will be able to see.” She waited and, sure enough, dim shapes in the room began to edge into focus. And the most striking of these was the girl who now stood in front of her. Laura let out a scream and staggered backward.

“Do not be afraid,” said the girl softly.

“Megan?” Laura’s mind was reeling.

“Come,” she said. “Follow me.”

Laura stepped cautiously after her, feeling her way around the room. Megan descended the stairs to the door. She lifted the latch and opened it as if it had never been locked. Laura followed her into the kitchen, from where she could see the front door was open. She turned back to thank Megan, but she had vanished. Laura wanted to call her back, to talk to her, but there was no time. She blundered over to where she had left her things and groped for her torch.

“Yes!” she said as she found it. She considered her coat for a moment, then decided it would slow her down, and ran out into the night.

As she ran she thanked God for her sturdy boots, the dry ground, and the pools of moonlight falling on the path. Small clouds were snagging on the mountaintops now, but there was still a fair amount of natural light to back up the narrow beam of her torch. She ran as fast as she dared, but the short journey seemed to take an age, as if she were running in a dream, on leaden legs. At least the downhill slope meant she did not have to pause for breath but could charge on, not allowing herself to think about what she was going to find when she reached Penlan. Nor what she would be able to do about it. Nothing in her wildest imaginings could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her once she turned the last bend before the house. Smoke. Lots of it. Billowing up from Penlan.

“No!” she screamed, running on, heart pounding, hurling herself down the hillside. As she got nearer she could hear the fire, a low, terrifying rumble like a gathering avalanche. She could see figures outside the house. She tried to make out who they were, and how many. Only three. One tall, and two small. Rhys and the boys. Where were Dan and Steph?

“Rhys!” she bellowed as she raced into the yard. “Where are they? What have you done?”

“It’s all right! I’ve got the boys out!” He held on to the terrified children who were too shocked to do more than cling to him and stare at the burning house.

“We’ve got to get the others out!” Laura ran toward the door. Rhys sprinted forward and intercepted her, grabbing hold of her shoulders and pulling her away.

“You can’t go in there, Laura.”

“Let me go, you madman!”

He tightened his grip and started to shout at her, but the sound of breaking glass distracted them both. Looking up Laura saw Steph at the little bedroom window, coughing and gasping as she used a small chair to break through the frame and glass.

“Mummy!” William screamed. Hamish started to cry loudly.

“The porch roof, Steph!” Laura shouted to her, thanking God Steph had not taken her usual sleeping tablet. “Lower yourself onto the roof!”

Steph did as she was told, holding on to the tough twists of the honeysuckle. Somewhere in the distance another noise could be heard. Laura looked down the valley and saw small lights coming up across the meadows. The lights of a quad bike. Rhys saw them, too. Laura seized her moment and wrenched herself free and dived into the house. She heard Rhys curse and blunder after her. The heart of the fire must have been in the kitchen, for though the sitting room was filling with smoke, there were no flames. Laura raced to the stairs, hoping that the thick door would have slowed down the progress of the deadly fumes.

“Stop, Laura!”

Rhys had caught up with her and grabbed her around the waist.

“No! Get off me you bastard!” She beat at him with her torch as she used the other hand to pull open the door. Something at the top of the stairs glinted in the light from the small window. A pair of eyes. Golden, ancient eyes. The smoke cleared for a second to reveal the enormous wolf in the instant that it sprang. It leaped over Laura’s head and landed fully on top of Rhys. She heard him scream as she dragged herself on up the stairs.

“Dan!” She coughed as she hammered on his door. She felt for the latch in the smoky darkness. A piece of wood had been used to jam it. She worked at it frantically until at last the door sprang open. Inside, the bedroom was dense with choking smoke. Dan lay on the bed, horribly still. Laura shook him, trying to wake him, but he had breathed in too much smoke. She was having difficulty breathing herself now, spluttering and gagging as she heaved Dan off the bed. At least near the floor there were still a few inches of breathable air. She tried to drag him toward the stairs, but he was far too heavy. Her muscles burned with the effort, but still she could only move him an inch at a time. Too slow. Much too slow. Tears of fear and frustration began to mingle with the soot on her face.

“Merlin!” she wailed. “Help us!”

For a few seconds nothing happened.

“I won’t leave him!” she screamed. “I will not. Do you hear me?”

There was still no sound or sign of Merlin. Laura thought that she and Dan would die together as the house burned around them. Then, imperceptibly at first, a breeze began to stir the smoke. The air moved more quickly, until there was a strong wind howling through the room, forcing the smoke out and clean air in. Laura tried to move Dan again.

“Dan, wake up! Come on!” She shook him again. This time he groaned in response. “Yes! That’s it, come on.”

As the fresh air reached his lungs Dan coughed and retched, fighting for breath. At least he was now conscious enough for Laura to be able to help him to his feet. Together they all but fell down the stairs, which, had they not been stone, might not have been standing.

As they staggered into the sitting room Laura saw a figure coming toward them. For a moment she feared it was Rhys.

“Come on there.” Glyn’s reedy voice cut through the smoke. “Let’s ’ave you out of this place!” He ducked under Dan’s arm to take some of his weight, and the three of them charged for the door, the terrifying sound of tumbling timber lending wings to their heels.

Once in the yard Laura and Glyn laid Dan gently down on the grassy cobbles. Steph and the boys hurried over to them.

“Is he OK?” Steph asked, clutching Hamish with his arms wrapped around her neck, William hanging on to her free hand.

Laura nodded as she coughed, unable to find enough air to speak.

“I saw the smoke,” Glyn said. “The fire brigade are on their way.”

Laura scanned the yard, but there was no sign of Rhys.

“Where is he?” she demanded of Glyn. “Where is Rhys?”

He shook his head. “I never saw him.”

“I did,” said Steph, her words tense with fury. “He ran out of the house, screaming. He went that way.” She gestured toward the mountain.

Laura was too traumatized to know whether to be relieved he had gone or terrified that he was out there somewhere and might come back. She crouched down next to Dan and took his hand in hers.

“Dan, I am so sorry,” she said.

He tried to answer her, but the smoke still had his voice. Instead he mustered a weak smile and shook his head, squeezing her hand.

Sirens could be heard echoing through the lower reaches of the valley. Laura turned to look at the burning house, the flames now feeding on the roof which cracked and groaned as it began to fall in on itself. The fire burned with terrifying ferocity, lighting up the night sky with a dizzying display of spark and flame. Within minutes timbers that had sheltered generations for hundreds of years were consumed and replaced by a cavernous, orange hole.

EPILOGUE

O
UTSIDE THE VILLAGE
shop the colors of the plants lined up for sale spoke joyfully of spring. Laura considered the vermilion climbing rose and the china-white daisies before settling on a vigorous looking honeysuckle. Mrs. Powell appeared in the open shop doorway.

“Ooh, hello there. Lovely to see you again. My goodness, it’s been a few months, hasn’t it? Are you keeping well?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m fine. Just a little tired sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? And after that terrible fire, well, well. Was Glyn the Bryn called the fire brigade, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Actually, I was buying this to take to Anwen.”

“Who, dear?”

“Mrs. Morgan. Glyn’s wife?”

Mrs. Powell laughed merrily at this. “Glyn have a wife? Oh, my goodness, the idea. Who’d want to be married to that grumpy old beggar?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I thought…”

“Glyn’s been up at the Bryn on his own since his father died in 1978. Or was it 1987?”

Laura stared at Mrs. Powell, trying to take in what she was saying. At first she thought there was a simple misunderstanding, or that the postmistress was getting forgetful and would remember Anwen in a minute. But no, the more she thought about her, about what an ill-match Anwen and Glyn had always seemed, about the strangeness of the old woman, and about the fact that there had never been anyone else around when Laura had seen her, the clearer the truth became. It made more sense, in fact, that Anwen should be like Merlin, a being who inhabited that liminal realm of stories and legends. It seemed too obvious now; Laura felt foolish for not having seen it sooner.

“No wife?” she asked Mrs. Powell once more, handing her the money for the plant.

“No, dear. No wife.”

Laura looked at the honeysuckle and then smiled, deciding in that moment what to do with it. An idea had come to her. She put the plant in the passenger footwell of her car and settled herself carefully behind the wheel. She fidgeted with the cushion she had taken to using in the small of her back when driving, then set off for Penlan.

It had indeed been several months since she had been to Wales. It was good to see the countryside in its spring finery again. With a pang she thought of the first time she had seen the house, exactly at this time of year twelve months ago. Such a lot had happened in that time. So many things to so many people. She drove slowly up the twisting lane, not wanting to take any of the bumps or potholes too quickly this time. A mixture of excitement and nervousness took hold as the house came into view. How different it looked now. All around it the timeless landscape remained constant, shifting only with the seasons, year in, year out, but remaining otherwise as it had been for centuries. In its sheltered position in the lea of the hill Penlan still nestled snuggly against any threatening winds that might come, but the makeshift corrugated roof and boarded-up spaces where the windows had been made it a forlorn sight. She parked the car and climbed slowly out. At least now that the better weather had arrived the rebuilding work could resume. Soon there would be a new roof and new windows, and the house would be made whole and beautiful once more. But it would never be like it was before. However sympathetic the restoration, a lot of work would be needed, and something of its history, of those connections with past lives, would be lost. The main A frame had survived, as had the bigger of the beams. They were of such stout and dense oak that even such an intense fire would have needed longer to consume them. Many of them had been irredeemably blackened, though, and most of the floorboards were gone, along with the lovely wood paneling, and many of the details which had given the place its charm. Laura had known straightaway after the fire that she would never want to live at Penlan again. It was ruined for her, and not just because of the fire damage. The main part of the house being stone was still standing, and to the casual observer there would be little difference to see. But too much had happened. Too much had changed. She could never make her home there after what had been done. After all that she had experienced. After all that she had so nearly lost, and for which she would always blame herself. Even now, so many months later, she could vividly recall the terror of that night. What if Megan had not helped her escape from the croft? What if she had not gotten to the burning house in time? Dan had so nearly died, and all because of her. He had been so understanding, so generous and loving and forgiving. He was prepared to try again, to save their marriage. He promised there would be no more guilt, no more recriminations, just moving forward, together.