Moondance of Stonewylde (3 page)

‘Goddess, I don’t believe this,’ she sobbed. ‘What’s happened to the man?’

Yul put a strong arm around his mother and kissed the top of her head.

‘Don’t you worry, Mother,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll take care of the family.’

But as he stared at the bulky mass sprawled helplessly before him, his eyes hardened and he whispered into his mother’s curls.

‘Those who stand against me shall fall, one by one.’

The crow launched itself from the window sill and up into the sky, heading back to the tumbledown cottage.

As Yul now scoured the pan in the scullery of the Hall kitchens, he smiled at the tiled wall with pure pleasure. He felt as if a set of heavy shackles had been removed after a lifetime of chafing his skin. He felt as free as a swift on the summer thermals. Alwyn lay somewhere in the Hall right now, tucked away in the hospital wing and unable to move. It appeared he’d had some sort of seizure, possibly a stroke. The new doctor, who’d arrived just before the Solstice, said Alwyn might never recover.

Yul recalled the stab of joy he’d felt on hearing this, and the difference to the whole family’s enjoyment of the Midsummer dance that evening. Maizie had hesitated at joining in the celebrations at such a time, with her husband lying up at the Hall and maybe at the gateway to the Otherworld. But Yul and Rosie had persuaded her it would be wrong not to honour the festival in the proper way. Reluctantly, Maizie had agreed to attend, and joined her family in bathing and dressing in their finest festival clothes for the feasting and dancing that night.

As Yul wiped the pan dry with a coarse linen cloth he smiled again. What a good thing they had attended the dance, for otherwise he’d have missed the heart-stopping sight of his beautiful moongazy girl sparkling like the brightest star in the heavens.

S
ylvie lay on the sand, her fingers idly sifting through the grains as she gazed at the blue sky overhead. The sun was scorching hot on her skin and she sighed deeply. She’d hoped to spend some time with Yul over the week-long Midsummer Holiday, but that seemed unlikely now. She hadn’t seen him since last night at the Solstice dance, when they’d managed to snatch some brief moments together.

She smiled as she remembered the evening. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like a fairy-tale princess. When she’d returned to Woodland Cottage later in the afternoon to get ready for the dance, a large white box with a huge silver bow had been waiting on her bed. Miranda had stood in the doorway, a strange expression on her face.

‘I don’t understand, Mum. You said now we’re at Stonewylde we’d follow the customs here and not give birthday presents.’

‘It’s not from me. It’s from Magus – look, there’s a note.’

For a beautiful girl on her fifteenth birthday – wear it tonight!

Sylvie looked up and was shocked to see her mother in tears.

‘Mum! What’s wrong?’

Miranda dabbed her eyes with a hanky and sniffed, shaking her head.

‘I’m sorry – I’m just being silly. It’s nothing.’

‘You don’t mind Magus giving me a present, do you? I’ll send it back if—’

‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ Miranda said quickly. ‘It’s stupid, I know. It’s just that … when I think back to my fifteenth birthday, it was all so different. I was so naïve, so sheltered. My parents were very strict and they treated me like a child. And then not long after my sixteenth birthday I fell pregnant with you and that was that – my childhood over and none of the fun of being a teenager.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ said Sylvie gently. ‘I know I’m so lucky compared to you. You had a rotten time of it.’

Miranda shrugged and tried to smile.

‘Well, it’s all in the past now. And I’ve never regretted having you, Sylvie. Nor do I begrudge you anything, you know that. I just wish that for once in my life, someone would … oh never mind, forget me and my silly dreams. Come on, let’s see what’s in the box. Something to wear tonight – sounds interesting.’

Sylvie untied the silver bow and lifted the lid. Carefully she pulled aside the sheets of white tissue paper to reveal the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. She found it hard to breathe as she lifted the dress from its soft nest, gasping as the layers of exquisitely fine material fell from their folds. The dress was of gossamer silk, silvery grey with thin silver ribbon straps. The bodice flared out into a cloud of gauzy skirts, which ended in little points all the way round the hem, each point tipped with a tiny silver bead.

Most amazing of all was the embroidery; the diaphanous fabric was shot with silver threads depicting small crescent moons and five-pointed stars. The effect was a glint and shimmer that gave the dress a light of its own. As Sylvie held it to her, it seemed to dance with a subtle silver sparkle which perfectly mirrored the strangeness of her eyes. She couldn’t speak, but stroked the magical dress against her body as if it had become her skin. Without a word, Miranda had turned and gone downstairs.

Sylvie raised herself on an elbow and gazed out to sea. Many other Hallfolk youngsters had come to the beach today, walking
together along the path by the river that flowed through the Village and down to the sea. Her first sight of the beach had filled Sylvie with excitement as it was a beautiful spot. Swans sailed grandly amongst the reeds where the river widened its mouth into a great freshwater pool, before dispersing over large pebbles and into the waiting salt water. The beach itself was a mixture of smooth shingle and coarse sand, shelving quite sharply into the sea.

But the most unusual aspect of the beach was its shape. It formed an almost perfect lagoon, as if someone had etched out a scoop of the sea shore just to provide the people of Stonewylde with safe bathing. The water within the lagoon was very clear and calm, for a huge low rock at the neck guarded the private bay and kept the rough seas out. The choppy waves could be seen out to sea crashing against the rock, but inside the shelter the water was calm.

About twenty young people were over on the rock, looking like a herd of seals as they basked and played. Sylvie squinted against the brilliant diamonds that danced off the water. Holly and her friends were out there making a great deal of noise. They’d already crowded out the Villagers who’d been on the rock first, much to Sylvie’s dismay. She’d hoped Yul might be there.

At the dance he’d told her the bad news about his extra work duties, but nevertheless she’d hoped that he’d manage a little free time. As she lay so indolently on the beach, Sylvie thought sadly of how unfair life was at Stonewylde. Here she was, pampered and spoiled, idling away yet another afternoon in the sun with the other Hallfolk teenagers. Whereas poor Yul was toiling away up at the Hall for no reason other than to keep all those visitors, who’d flocked back for the Solstice, in luxury.

After his ordeal at Quarrycleave, Yul more than anyone deserved a holiday. He was still so thin, his face chiselled into new planes and hollows. She thought back to the obscene defilement of his back that she’d seen a few days ago in the white marble bathroom at the Hall. The sight of those deep wheals and lacerations on his skin had filled her with such pity and anger
that she’d never trust Magus again. She understood it was he who’d ordered and overseen the vicious whipping. But at least the actual perpetrator had got his just desserts. Sylvie knew that Alwyn lay in the hospital wing at the Hall hovering somewhere between paralysis and death.

She smiled grimly at the thought, remembering the fuss his collapse had caused yesterday on the Solstice. Hazel had only just taken up residence on the estate and this had been her first medical emergency as doctor at Stonewylde, the day after her arrival. She’d rushed off the Village Green to Yul’s cottage after his brothers and sisters had arrived breathless and distraught, gabbling that their father had thrown a fit and she must please come quick.

Sylvie had tried to looked as shocked as everyone else as Hazel dashed into the Barn to collect her doctor’s bag. Sylvie guessed that Mother Heggy’s cake had worked its dark magic but had composed her features into an expression of concern. She’d had to retain her composure again later on, when Magus had shot her a look like thunder as he’d heard the news. She’d been close by when Hazel returned to the Green much later and sought out Magus to give him an update.

‘You’re positive it was a stroke?’

‘No, not positive. I’ll need to do more tests. But I believe so.’

‘It couldn’t be anything more sinister?’

‘In what way? I don’t understand.’

‘I mean foul play. Deliberate.’

‘No, I doubt that very much. He presents all the symptoms of a stroke victim. He’s grossly overweight, unfit and he’d been drinking heavily. If anyone’s to blame, it’s himself.’

Magus mouth had tightened at this and then, looking up, he’d caught Sylvie’s eye. His expression changed but she couldn’t read his dark eyes other than to recognise his anger. Did he really suspect Yul had had a hand in his father’s collapse? Sylvie fervently hoped that whatever Mother Heggy had put in the cake was undetectable.

However Magus was back in fine form by the evening and had
been delighted when Sylvie and Miranda arrived at the Barn for the dance. The Village Green was lit with hundreds of tiny lanterns which hung amongst the branches of the trees, strung on lines around the trestles set up for yet more feasting and drinking. Light poured from the Barn and the sound of lively music filled the warm evening air, masking the call of woodpigeons and the joyous trilling of song-thrushes.

Sylvie felt as if she were floating on a carpet of magic as she walked shyly next to her mother along the cobbled street. Hidden amongst the tissue paper under the dress, she’d discovered a pair of pale grey leather pumps which she now wore. Her long hair hung like a silver veil around her bare shoulders. The dress twinkled as she moved, the silver moons and stars catching the light with every step. She really felt as if stardust from a magic wand had transformed her into a princess.

‘Perfect!’ breathed Magus, emerging from the vast open entrance into the Barn. ‘It fits you just as I’d imagined and I knew you’d do justice to that dress. Sylvie, you really are the most beautiful girl at Stonewylde.’

Sylvie had stood awkwardly whilst her mother remained silent. His gaze was warm and approving and she prickled with embarrassment as his eyes swept her from head to toe, missing nothing. Miranda prodded her sharply.

‘Sylvie!’ she hissed. ‘Where are your manners?’

‘Oh! Thank you, Magus, thank you so much. I’m sorry – it’s so special I don’t know what to say. I feel overwhelmed.’

‘A moongazy dress for a moongazy girl,’ he murmured, leading them across the grass to get a drink. ‘Happy birthday, Sylvie! I shall expect several dances with you tonight. And you too of course, Miranda.’

The dress had proved to be a mixed blessing for it had aroused a good deal of attention. The Villagers gawped openly, their expressions full of admiration for the sparkling girl from the Hall who smiled at them far more sweetly than any other member of the Hallfolk ever did. Several of the younger children had been awestruck enough to forget the Stonewylde code of behaviour,
and had actually stroked the shimmering material and Sylvie’s silky hair. Many of the Village boys blushed and nodded as she caught their eye, unable to stop staring at her, nudging each other and grinning.

She also felt the approbation of the Hallfolk boys who seemed incapable of taking their eyes off her throughout the evening and pestered her for dances. But Holly and her gaggle of friends were another matter, and Sylvie felt their envy like a hail of arrows. The one person whose approval she sought was nowhere to be seen. Sylvie spent most of the evening surreptitiously trying to locate him. As she endured dance after hot dance with an endless stream of sweaty partners, her eyes constantly scanned the crowds looking for her dark, handsome boy.

Eventually she managed to leave the revelry and escape outside into the comparative coolness of the Midsummer Night air. Even though it was late, the sky still retained daylight on this, the shortest night of the year. The sun seemed to have barely dipped below the horizon and the stars struggled to be noticed in the cerulean sky. The fairy lights all around in the encircling trees gave the Green an atmosphere of magical enchantment. Bats swooped low and an owl called from the trees as Sylvie stood in the darkness, breathing deeply of the fragrant air and wishing with all her heart that she was in Yul’s arms, tasting his sweet kiss again.

Her heart jumped as she sensed a movement behind and felt a light touch on her hair. She froze, not looking round. As she caught Yul’s unique scent of wood-smoke and herbs, her stomach flipped with excitement. He stood close behind, barely touching her, and all her senses jangled. She felt him stoop and whisper into her hair.

‘I’ve been waiting all evening for you to come outside, Sylvie. And here you are at last, fallen out of the sky, a beautiful flying star landed right at my feet.’

She smiled at his words, her heart thudding. She felt his breath on the back of her neck and shuddered as he gently ran his fingers down the sides of her bare arms.

‘You’re so lovely, Sylvie. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you are tonight. Your dress … it’s full of moonlight and magic. You should wear this moongazy dress when you dance at the Moon Fullness.’