Shaman of Stonewylde (32 page)

‘True.’

‘I do wish though . . . I have a kind of fantasy, a dream that I’ve thought about over the years . . .’

Clip watched her profile as her eyes roamed the parched landscape. His daughter was so beautiful, and he could never look at her without feeling a jolt of pride and love. To think he’d created her – the surprise of it never lessened. Her classical features, her long silver hair, the delicate fineness of her; Clip adored Sylvie and wished he were better able to show it.

‘What do you dream?’ he asked gently.

‘That Stonewylde could become a place of healing,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I read somewhere of a new theory about the purpose of the most famous stone circle, Stonehenge. They say now that perhaps it was a place where people came to be healed, a kind of sacred hospital where the earth energy was so powerful that people made pilgrimages there.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Clip. ‘I must say I’ve felt very potent forces inside that great henge.’

‘Well, I feel it’s the same with Stonewylde,’ said Sylvie. ‘Not just our Stone Circle, wonderful though that is. There’s Green Magic at Hare Stone, and on the Village Green, in the woods, up on Dragon’s Back – so many places at Stonewylde where you can sense the energy and healing. Remember when I came here all those years ago? I was so very ill, and probably would’ve died if we’d stayed in London, but my cure here was miraculous.’

‘It was amazingly fast,’ agreed Clip, still finding it uncomfortable to reminisce about Sylvie’s early days – and her exploitation – at Stonewylde.

‘So, my dream is to make Stonewylde a place of healing. I’d love to offer the experience I had here to others,’ she said. ‘And if their illness were too far progressed for a cure, at least they’d
die
in a beautiful place with the Goddess in the Landscape all around them. Imagine if the last thing you saw as you passed on was the view from Hare Stone, or feeling the sun’s rays on your face in the Stone Circle? That’s the one thing that consoled me about poor Professor Siskin’s death – at least he died on the Village Green, the place he loved most in the whole world, with the stars overhead and the trees all around him.’

She paused and swallowed hard. Tentatively, Clip put his arm around her and was rewarded with her head on his shoulder as she nestled against him.

‘I don’t tell you often enough,’ he said softly, ‘but I love you so much, Sylvie.’

She smiled at this.

‘I feel the same, Clip. I’m honoured to have a father such as you.’

‘As for your dream,’ he said, ‘I don’t see why that couldn’t happen. I’ve been talking with my lawyer recently about tying Stonewylde up safely – remember we discussed it before? She recommends that the estate becomes a charity, and that would sit well with your idea.

Sylvie turned and looked into his grey wolf eyes, her own shining with joy.

‘Really? Could we
really
do this?’

‘I don’t see why not. There’s yet more paperwork so we’re talking about the future, not the present, but I think it could be done.

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Well, we have our wonderful Hazel, and Leveret’s destined to become an exceptional healer too. We can recruit more staff if necessary or best of all, train our youngsters in health care. We could offer all types of therapies and our own natural remedies. It’s a very exciting thought.’

‘Though I guess we still need a source of revenue,’ said Sylvie.

‘That’s true, but as a charity we can fund-raise. And our patients may be able to donate.’

‘Maybe . . . but it’s really important that Stonewylde is for
everyone
, not just the wealthy,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d never have been able to come here if we’d have had to pay, would I? Despite all the awful things he did, that’s something I’ll always be grateful to Magus for. He took us in when we were penniless, and it’s thanks to his invitation that I was healed. And that I found you.’

The couple from Aitch who’d come to find suitable models and possible locations were overwhelmed by Stonewylde. Sylvie had instructed Harold to look after them, and a meeting had been called in the Great Barn for anyone interested in modelling during the proposed fashion shoot later in the month. Many of the girls and some of the boys from the Hall turned up bright and early, and Sylvie thought perhaps she should pop over there to keep an eye on things. Harold walked down with the photographer and her assistant who were slightly bemused to find themselves having to use their legs, and upset that their phones were unusable. When they arrived in the Barn, they were greeted by a crowd of eager youngsters all anxious not to waste their entire Saturday hanging about.

The photographer, a bright young thing named Chelsi, stood up and explained that she and Benjy were only assistants to the main photographer Finn, who’d be doing the actual photoshoot himself within the next couple of weeks. Today they’d take shots of anyone interested in joining the professional models as extras. Sylvie watched from the sidelines, noticing how helpful Harold was. They went outside and the youngsters formed a queue to have their photos taken. Meanwhile, Celandine and Bluebell and many other children ran around the Green as they always did at the weekends, whilst their mothers collected bread from the Bakery, meat from the Butcher, milk from the Dairy Store and water from the Village Pump.

Standing in the queue were Faun and Rowan, and Sylvie was amused to see Faun showing off so blatantly. She looked lovely and Sylvie was sure they’d choose her anyway, without the dramatics.

‘Mother, why do we have to stand in this stupid queue?’ Faun
demanded
, and Rowan replied to her quietly. Sylvie thought again what a spoiled child she was; everyone else was waiting patiently. Miranda had persuaded Rufus to take part and, as he and Faun were fairly close together in the line, she had a chance to compare them. Rufus had suddenly grown very tall and thin, and his arms and legs seemed far too long for his body. His gleaming auburn hair hung over his eyes, which were the same dark-chocolate brown as Faun’s, and he was covered with freckles. He was a striking boy and complemented his half-sister Faun perfectly. They ignored each other and Sylvie thought what a shame that was, although Yul as the other half-brother hadn’t been a good role model for sibling bonding.

‘But Mother, Rainbow said I’d definitely be able to model for Aitch, so why do I have to do this audition thing? They should just put my name down,’ Faun whined, and Sylvie itched to give her a good telling off. Instead, she walked away. Noticing Yul standing in the shadows of one of the Barn’s buttresses, discreetly watching the proceedings, she went over to him. It was about time they patched things up, at least superficially. Yet, once again, he wouldn’t even look her in the face.

‘Can we please have a talk?’ she asked him, a little more tersely than she’d intended.

‘I was just about to leave, actually,’ he replied, gazing across the Green at the spectacle of the Outsiders taking photos of the youngsters, one by one. Anything rather than look her in the eye.

‘We
need
to talk, Yul. You’ve been so cold and distant lately and I—’

‘Have I? I’m sorry, Sylvie – I didn’t mean to be.’

‘That’s good. I thought you were ignoring me deliberately. Could we go for a walk and have a chat?’

He hesitated and she felt cut to the quick. Why was he so reluctant to have any contact with her?

‘I suppose so . . .’

‘Good. Let’s go down to the beach, shall we? Then—’

‘NO!’ he shouted, and Sylvie stared at him. He really was behaving oddly.

‘Shall we just take a stroll around the Village Green instead?’ she suggested. ‘Maybe it’ll do all those wagging tongues good to actually see us together.’

They walked, like a courting couple, around the huge circle of trees. Yul seemed to relax a little as she chatted easily, telling him about the girls and how they were getting on. Eventually she broached the subject that she knew was causing him distress.

‘Yul, about my birthday . . . I hope you know that—’

‘I’d really rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,’ he said stiffly.

‘But Yul, the whole thing was a complete surprise to me. And—’

‘Really, Sylvie, please can we leave it? I only want to forget that day ever happened.’

‘But you’re still upset – I can see it! I know you too well, Yul. You can’t hide things from me. I know what’s going on in your head.’

‘Do you really? I don’t think so, Sylvie.’

They’d come, finally, to the great yew tree. They stopped and both gazed at it. Their sadness was almost tangible as both were assaulted by memories.

‘Oh Yul! What’s happened to us? I never wanted it to be like this.’

‘Neither did I. But it seems that what we once had has gone . . .’

His words cut into her and shredded her heart.

‘No, it’s not gone!’ she said shakily. ‘And as far as I’m concerned, it’ll never be gone.’

But Yul shrugged and turned away before she could see the tell-tale expression on his face, and the tears that yet again clouded his vision.

A couple of weeks later, Chelsi and Benjy returned to Stonewylde with a gaggle of models and a crew of assistants. They were to
settle
in and sort out the locations, and then Finn the photographer would arrive the next day to do the photoshoot. By this time, with all the fuss that surrounded their arrival, Sylvie was beginning to regret ever championing the stupid scheme. But the folk had already started work on the large order for goods and so far everyone had shown willing.

Yul had eventually been persuaded to allow the visitors from Aitch to use his apartments for their stay. He’d refused Sylvie’s request at first but had then capitulated with bad grace; even he could see it was ridiculous for such a large suite of the very best rooms in the entire place to be used by just one person who wasn’t even around half the time. The master bedroom, the children’s room and several other rooms further along the corridor were given over to the visitors, whilst the great sitting room with the dumb waiter was their designated head-quarters for the weekend.

At the Hall, everyone was agog to see the minibus pull up and an assortment of glamorous people emerge, mostly grumbling, as the journey had been long and cramped. A second vehicle followed behind, crammed with the clothes, accessories and all the equipment needed for the photo-shoot in the morning. Assistants, make-up artists, hair-dressers and the models themselves were greeted by Harold and taken straight up to Yul and Sylvie’s apartments.

Benjy emerged from the rooms later on with the list of Stonewylde people they wanted to use in the photo-shoot. Many youngsters were disappointed, upset to find they hadn’t been included. Kestrel was chosen, but could barely speak from frustration at discovering Rainbow hadn’t arrived with the other visitors. Miranda was delighted that Rufus had been chosen, although he wasn’t so pleased. Faun wasn’t in the least bit surprised to find herself on the list and made sure everyone knew about her success.

Sylvie sat in the office with Harold, going over the paperwork for the orders again. She wished that Yul would sort himself out and take part in this business arrangement. She and Harold
were
trying to organise the labour fairly and make sure there was a proper production schedule for the goods required. This was much more Yul’s forte, but since the Solstice he kept disappearing on his horse, sometimes taking off for days. This meant Sylvie must be constantly available in case some decision was required.

There was a knock on the door and Chelsi appeared, looking rather fierce in a pair of heavy-framed glasses and wearing what Sylvie assumed to be a very fashionable combination of Aitch clothes.

‘Hi there! I just wanted to run through everything that’s happening tomorrow,’ she said, a clipboard clutched to her chest. ‘This is really Benjy’s job, but he’s sorting out a couple of the girls. He’s so much better with them than I am. They’re all having tantrums because their phones don’t work. But there’s no signal at all here, is there?’

Sylvie smiled a little incredulously, finding it hard to appreciate just how much difference this made to people’s lives in the Outside World.

‘Harold’s your contact point and he’ll stay with you all day tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘What time’s the photographer arriving, by the way?’

‘Finn said he’ll get here first thing in the morning,’ said Chelsi. ‘And apparently there’s a chance that Aitch may come too, which is a real honour. That doesn’t happen very often.’

Sylvie wondered if she were supposed to be impressed by this. Presumably Aitch was incredibly famous and glamorous, but she was determined not to act star-struck.

‘We’ll arrange for breakfast to be sent up to your rooms tomorrow morning,’ she said, ‘although it would be easier for us if you could all come downstairs for supper this evening.’

‘Fabulous!’ said Chelsi. ‘I don’t know who I have to speak to about dietary requirements, but some of our girls are a little fussy in their eating habits. I have a list here.’

‘I’m sure Marigold will do her best,’ said Sylvie. ‘Though we
won’t
have anything exotic, I’m afraid. We grow all our own food at Stonewylde and we eat what’s in season. But tell your girls that everything’s organic at least.’

‘I will, though it’s the calorific value that bothers them, not the chemicals. To change the subject completely – I don’t suppose you’d like to take part yourself tomorrow?’ asked Chelsi, her glance appraising Sylvie from head to toe.

‘Me? Oh no, I don’t think so!’ laughed Sylvie.

‘Pity – obviously you’re much older than most of our models, but Paige is a wizard with cosmetics,’ said Chelsi.

‘I’m sure she is,’ said Sylvie, ‘but it’s not my sort of thing at all.’

‘You weren’t a model when you were younger then?’ asked Chelsi.

Sylvie suddenly recalled Magus’ remarks when he’d held her captive in his rooms, starving her into submission and dressing her like a doll in costly designer clothes. She shook her head with a chuckle.

‘I only wondered,’ said Chelsi, ‘because I’m a scout and you’ve got that look about you . . . What’s your connection with Aitch then? I thought perhaps you’d had dealings in the past, maybe on the catwalk or something.’