Sands of Time (45 page)

‘Not if she’s running away.’ Phyllis was sitting staring at the coffee pot. ‘She’ll have gone somewhere none of us will find her. As far as she is concerned Toby is the enemy.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. But it’s true.’

‘And always will be?’ Toby groaned in despair.

Phyllis glanced at Serena helplessly. ‘I do so hope not.’

Serena shrugged. ‘I’m out of my depth. I’ve only studied ancient Egypt. I’ve never had to cope with a Victorian occultist. I don’t know where to start.’

‘Mary had a little lamb,’ Toby said softly. ‘That worked.’

For a moment they were all silent.

Outside, in Serena’s car, her phone had finished charging. It lay forgotten, nursing its secrets in silence.

16

Anna tore open the back door of the car and looked in. ‘Where are you?’ Her anger had temporarily conquered her fear.

There was no reply.

Biting her lip she slammed the door and went round to the driver’s side. Pulling that door open in turn she stared down at the bubble-wrapped package lying on the passenger seat. She didn’t notice the infinitesimal patch of damp beneath it on the dark leather.

What would happen if she dumped it here? She could throw it into the bins she could see at the side of the garage building. Drive off and leave it. Or she could take it to a bottle bank. Toss it in amongst a thousand wine bottles to be ground to dust and recycled into some innocuous item which would find its way onto a supermarket shelf somewhere.

Don’t be foolish. Do you realise what would happen if it
was broken?

Somehow he had picked up on that thought.

The power that would be released would devastate the
world! We want that power, you and I. Oh, Miss Shelley, we
could do so much with that power!

‘What? What do you want to do with all this power?’ Smothering a sob of frustration, Anna fired the question into the dark. ‘What is it with you men? Why do you all want to dominate the world?’

A mere woman would not understand such matters, Miss
Shelley
. The tone was mocking.

‘And another thing, I wish you’d stop calling me Miss Shelley. That is not my name!’ Anna snapped back at him. ‘My name, if you wish to be so formal, is Anna Fox.’

A car had driven up and parked opposite her on the far side of the pump. She saw the driver stare at her, startled, as he reached for the nozzle.

Very well, I will call you Anna. And please, do not try
running away from me. I can move at the speed of thought.
Get in, my dear. We have to go north! I have everything we
need at Carstairs Castle. My laboratory is waiting
.

‘I doubt it!’ Anna retorted. She climbed in reluctantly, tossing her mobile onto the other seat to lie beside the bottle, and reached for the seat belt. With the car light off her neighbour couldn’t see who she was talking to and talking to her passenger seemed to be the right thing to do. ‘If I remember rightly Carstairs Castle is a ruin. I think the whole place has been razed to the ground.’ She put the key in the ignition and turned it, waiting for his reaction to that piece of news. None came. She smiled to herself quietly. ‘As it happens I do know the place to go. I’ve thought of the perfect place of power.’ She glanced over her shoulder towards the empty seat. Would he suspect her plan? See through her? ‘Trust me, my lord. Let me show you.’

She waited.

Silence.

She could feel the small hairs on the back of her neck stirring.

‘OK. Let’s go.’ It couldn’t be that easy. Surely he was not going to believe he had won her over? Was he really that conceited? Carefully she engaged gear and pulled back out onto the A12 once more. Somehow she had to veil her thoughts. She couldn’t let him know that she had reached a decision. That she was going to fling the bottle into the sea, to let it sink or float or grind to pieces amongst the shingle. Mary had a little lamb. She held her breath, listening. Oh God, it was worse when he was quiet. She didn’t know if he was still there. She could imagine him sitting on the seat – was he relaxed, legs crossed, watching the passing scenery or was he leaning forward, his hand on the back of the seat just behind her neck? She jerked forward slightly, feeling the tiptoe of fear again. Mary had a little lamb. Concentrate on anything but where she was going. What she was going to do.

As she approached the turning towards Aldeburgh she slowed the car, her hands gripping the wheel, holding her breath. The road she took ran due east.

This is the wrong way. We need to go north!

She smiled grimly, almost relieved that the silence had been broken. So he was still there. Still awake. Still with his built-in compass. ‘I told you, I am going to a place of power I know. A wonderful place. You will like it.’ She was visualising the white-domed silhouette of Sizewell nuclear power station.

You are deceiving me! Turn round!

‘I am not deceiving you. I told you, we are going somewhere just right for your purposes.’

You do not know what my purposes are, madam! Turn
round!

‘I can’t.’ She gripped the steering wheel even more tightly. ‘I have to go on. It’s the perfect place. You’ll see.’

Stop now!

‘I told you, I can’t. I have to go on.’ She pushed her foot to the floor. ‘It’s important we get there before sunrise.’

Ahead a thin strip of cloud had begun to lighten, tinged with palest red. Above them, the sky was still dark, studded with stars. The road sparkled with dusted frost. Gritting her teeth she pushed the car on down the straight narrow road, heading inexorably towards the sea.

I told you to stop!

‘Not yet. Not till we get there. It’s not far.’

I do not trust you. Shelley women are dissemblers. They
tease. They lie!

‘Not me.’

The needle on the speedometer was moving steadily to the right.

‘You must trust me. I know what I’m doing. Wait, it’s not far now.’ Mary had a little lamb.

Stop. I insist. You plan to destroy the bottle. I will not allow
it!

‘I am taking you to a place of power. It is called a power station.’ She was gabbling frantically. ‘You must believe me. It is the right place to go. There the power of the bottle will be magnified. It will be ten times greater. More even than you dream of.’

Stop now. Turn round
.

‘I can’t. This is a narrow road. I’m not allowed to turn. We’re nearly there.’

Anna. Please obey me. Do not make me angry
.

And suddenly she felt the touch of his fingers on her neck. Ice cold. Strong.

She leaned forward, hanging on to the wheel. ‘Don’t touch me! Keep your hands off me. If we crash the bottle will be broken.’

The bottle is wrapped. It will not break. Come, Anna. Slow
down, my dear
.

Suddenly the fingers were caressing. Not cold this time, but warm, enticing. The hands she had felt in her dream.

‘We need to be there by sunrise.’ She gripped the steering wheel ever more tightly, forcing herself to concentrate on the road. It was growing lighter by the minute.

Don’t think about what she was going to do. Don’t let him read her thoughts. Keep that bland, deadly silhouette there in her head. And recite. That was what Serena had said to do. Recite. Block him out. Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go …

17

Serena and Toby had wandered through into the sitting room while their hostess, abandoning the idea of going back to bed, went upstairs to get dressed. Toby stood looking down at the cold hearth. ‘Shall I light a fire?’

Serena nodded. ‘Why not?’

He picked up the poker from the carpet where Phyllis had let it fall hours before. Examining it he grimaced. ‘I can’t believe I survived being hit by this.’

Serena smiled wearily. ‘The Carstairs family obviously have tough heads. And the Shelleys are pretty feisty. Try not to worry. She’ll be OK.’

‘If I just thought she could contact us. Ring me. Anything.’ The phone in Anna’s flat just now had rung on endlessly.

‘She’s not going to ring you, Toby.’ Serena watched as he picked some logs out of the basket. ‘If she calls anyone it will be Phyllis. Or perhaps me.’ She felt automatically in her pocket for her mobile and frowned. ‘Of course. I left it on charge in the car. Perhaps I’d better fetch it.’

Toby felt the draught of cold air as she pulled open the front door. He stooped, crumpling up a newspaper he had found lying on the chair, piling the logs carefully over it with handfuls of kindling, building them into a pyramid. In the distance he heard Serena’s car door bang. There was a box of matches on the huge black beam which served as a mantelpiece. He picked it up and shook it. Reaching for a match he was striking it as he heard Serena come back in, closing the door behind her.

The paper caught. Then the dry twigs, crackling up with a satisfying roar. He sat back, staring down at the fire, feeling the sudden warmth on his face. Then he looked up puzzled. Serena had not reappeared. Instead he heard the creak of floorboards above his head. She had gone upstairs.

Serena tapped lightly on Phyllis’s door and went in. ‘She’s called in. Listen.’ She dialled up Anna’s message and held it to the old lady’s ear.

‘Oh God!’ Phyllis stared at her. ‘We were right. He went with her. What do we do?’

‘Shall I tell Toby?’ Serena bit her lip. ‘He’s out of his mind with worry, but he is so vulnerable to Carstairs. Oh, Phyllis, I don’t know what to do for the best.’

‘Ring her back. That’s what she’s asked you to do. Call her. Now. Quickly.’ She handed the phone back to Serena and watched anxiously as Serena keyed in the number.

18

The phone rang as Anna turned the car into the high street and threaded her way towards the sea. She grabbed it. ‘Serena? Is that you? I’m here. In Aldeburgh –’ The phone hissed and crackled and went dead. She stared at it in disbelief, then she threw it down. She could see the sea wall ahead of her. She was driving slowly now, manoeuvring as close as she could to the beach.

Carefully she drew the car to a halt.

‘We’re here. The place of power.’ From the beach he would be able to see the power station in the distance. Surely he would realise that it was different; something strange he would never have seen before; would sense its sinister aura. Just so long as he gave her time to reach the sea.

‘We’re there. Let me show you. It’s the most amazing place.’ As she groped for the door handle she found herself smiling wryly. Maybe he was not so clever after all. And she had to keep it that way. Cajole him. Go along with him. Fool him. She was wondering how high the tide was. She would only need a few seconds to reach the sea. Not long.

In her mind’s eye she conjured again the picture of the power station, so close along the coast. Its great white dome would be easily visible from the edge of the sea.

As she climbed out into the bitter dawn, the bottle was in her hand. ‘OK. Come on. I’ll show you where we’re going. More powerful than anything you ever dreamed of.’ It was windy here. Her hair whipped round her face. She paused, half expecting the rear door of the car to open. It didn’t. There was no sound. Nodding grimly she turned towards the sea wall, and searching for a gap set off into the teeth of the wind down across the pebbled beach.

The tide was nearly high; it hurtled in against the pebbles with a rattle of falling stones and shingle and she stood for a moment staring at it, dazed by the noise. In front of her the sky had begun to turn red. Along the coast the dome reflected the hint of blood.

It was bitterly cold. She stared round, to see if Carstairs was following her. There was no sign of him. Her fingers tightened round the bottle.

Stray shreds of mist were drifting in off the sea.

Suddenly she began to run down towards the tide line, the pebbles shifting and lurching beneath her feet. She was there. He couldn’t stop her now.

In her hand one of the last drops of moisture worked its way through the wrapping in her hand to dampen her fingers in the wind. Above her head a cloud seemed to coalesce and waver. She sensed its presence. Stopping she whirled round in time to see two figures, white, wispy in the dawn light. They towered over her, arms outstretched towards her. She could feel their anguish – and their anger. ‘Oh God, the priests! They know what I’m going to do!’ Clutching the bottle to her she backed away, terrified. They were coming towards her. They were growing in strength. Their mutual enmity forgotten, they were intent on one thing – the small bottle in Anna’s hand and the final few drops of its precious contents. In a moment they would envelop her.

‘No!’ Her scream rang out into the roar of the sea and was echoed by the cry of a gull. A small trickle of moisture ran up her arm. It was warm. Healing. Blessed.