Shaman of Stonewylde (45 page)

‘Yes, although we’ve still to sort out where we’re going to live. That seems to be the stumbling block at the moment. I can’t bear to live in those apartments and I really want to live in the Village in a simple cottage.’

‘And Yul doesn’t want that?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s been quite hard to talk to him lately. There’s something bothering him but he hasn’t told me yet, so I have no idea what it is. Though I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t sort out.’

‘Okay, so we’ll get the new implant put in tomorrow. I assume your last period was at the Dark Moon, so let me check. That would be September—’

‘Actually I didn’t have one then.’

‘No? Are you out of synch now? It does happen, and I’ve noticed it more and more since Stonewylde women have been on these implants. So when was it?’

‘Um . . . I’m not sure. I missed September’s and August’s too. I
remember
being pleased because I wanted to come up here that day and I—’

‘Sylvie, are you telling me you’ve missed two periods? You made love with Yul at the Blue Moon on Lammas Eve and you haven’t had a period since?’

Sylvie stared at Hazel in shock.

‘But . . . no, surely not? You’ve always said the implants are virtually foolproof, Hazel.’

‘They are! I know yours is due for replacing, but even so . . . You’re not on any other medication that could be affecting it, so—’

‘Well, I have been taking Leveret’s remedy for a few months now, but that’s just a natural tonic. That wouldn’t have affected a hormone implant, surely?’

Hazel had gone very still. Her kind brown eyes locked into Sylvie’s pale grey ones and she sighed.

‘What was this natural tonic? It wasn’t by any chance—’

‘Hypericum or St John’s Wort, if you prefer. But it’s just made from flowers!’

Hazel chuckled incredulously.

‘That’s one of the natural remedies known to affect hormonal contraception. Sylvie, we need to do a test. I think it’s highly likely that you’re pregnant.’

22

Yul gazed at the latest e-mail that had just pinged into his inbox. His heart thumped with despair and he felt like hurling the computer across the room. He must have uttered something because Harold looked up from his work.

‘What was that, Yul? I didn’t—’

‘Nothing!’ he growled.

With a shrug, Harold turned back to his screen, gazing at the columns in the spreadsheet.

‘Are you looking at the Aitch report, Harold? How’s it going?’

‘Yes I am, and ’tis looking good. We’re on target with everything and there don’t seem to be no production problems.’

‘When are we expecting to have finished the order?’

‘By Yule at the latest, and possibly before. I reckon . . . end of November if everyone continues to produce the goods as fast as they’re doing now.’

‘Good! Let’s see if we can speed it up a bit and finish with the whole bloody thing even sooner.’

‘Did you hear that the first magazine with the photos is out now? Most will be out next month, but there’s one got ’em already in a big spread. ’Tis strange seeing our Stonewylde in a glossy magazine like that. Holly sent the—’

‘I don’t want to know!’ cried Yul, his voice almost cracking. ‘I really don’t want to hear anything about it!’

Harold glanced across at him; Yul had been behaving very strangely lately.

‘Sorry. But there’s one thing I must ask. Holly – Aitch or whatever we’re meant to call her – she sent me an e-mail asking if they can add to the order as the boots are—’

‘Absolutely not!’

‘Okay, I’ll tell her no then. I just thought maybe—’

There was a tap on the door and Sylvie came in, her cheeks glowing and eyes dancing. Her silver hair wafted around her
shoulders
and fell to her waist, and Yul felt a jolt of love and desire for her all rolled into one.

‘Sorry to disturb you hard-working chaps! Can you spare me a minute please, Yul? I’ve got a couple of things to tell you.’

It was still raining outside, the late September weather gloomy and dull, so they made their way into the library. This however was full of students, as was the grand sitting room; Miranda tended to utilise all the space possible. They found the Dining Hall being prepared for lunch, and the huge ballroom which nowadays sported sofas and chairs and a large screen for watching films, was occupied by some of the elderly folk from Hazel’s wing.

‘We could go into my study, but Harold’s working in the next room, so if it’s something private . . .’

‘It is. Um . . .’

‘Sylvie, this is ridiculous. Let’s go up to our old rooms. There’s loads of space there and you know how private they are.’

Reluctantly she followed him up the wide staircase, past the stained glass window. She glimpsed Martin further down the corridor and that triggered all sorts of memories. She approached the arched doorway into the sitting room with dread. Yul pushed open the heavy oak door and she felt a band of constriction tightening around her chest, stifling her breath. He held it open for her and as she walked in, Sylvie sensed something in the room hiding its face, scuttling into the murky corners. Never before, apart from that night at Samhain when she’d been here alone during the power-cut, had she felt such a powerful presence of other in the room.

Her skin erupted into goose-flesh and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She was very pleased that Bluebell wasn’t here as the little girl was so sensitive to atmosphere and this would have triggered her nightmares again. Sylvie looked around the room, glancing at the window seat, the huge fireplace, the sofas and occasional tables. This room held so many memories for her and most of them unpleasant. She tried to recall the good ones, but even those were tainted; sitting breast-feeding Celandine –
but
then there’d be a sudden draught, or a book would fall off the shelf. Cuddled up on the sofa with Yul – but she’d get an overwhelming urge to look behind her. It hit her full force then – the rooms were truly haunted. She shuddered at the thought and vowed that whatever happened, she and the girls would never live here again.

They sat down in the window seat and Sylvie gazed outside at the grey, blowy day. Yul watched her, his heart breaking. If he didn’t make a decision soon about Rainbow and her threats, he’d lose Sylvie forever. Should he just give in and allow Rainbow back for a visit? She’d been pestering him to agree to this for weeks, bombarding him with increasingly threatening e-mails, like the one that had just arrived. Or should he call Rainbow’s bluff and refuse, running the risk of her telling Sylvie his dirty, guilty secret? She’d threatened that enough times and he knew she’d have no qualms about ruining their lives. The third option was to confess to Sylvie and throw himself on her mercy. For the first time in his life, Yul just couldn’t decide what to do for the best.

‘There are two things – important things – I wanted to tell you, Yul. The first is about my mother, and I want to ask a huge favour.’

Yul dragged his thoughts away from Rainbow and her black-mail and looked into his wife’s beautiful face. Her skin was like the finest porcelain and her eyes grey pools of tranquillity. He tried to summon a smile for her and nodded encouragingly.

‘It’s a long story and I won’t go into it all now, but my mum’s mother is terminally ill and doesn’t have long left. She’s asked to see Mum to make her peace before she dies. She also wants to meet her grandchildren – me and Rufus – and her great-grandchildren too.’ She ignored Yul’s look of amazement and continued. ‘Mum’s decided she’s definitely going, and she’d really like me and the girls and Rufus to be there too. I think perhaps she wants her mother to see just what she managed to achieve all on her own, despite being abandoned at such a tender age. I’d like to be there to support her – it’s only for two nights – and
I
wondered if you would please come with us? Going up to London, staying in a hotel, all the practical considerations of travel – it would be lovely if you could look after us and help. If you are agreeable to the girls coming along – which of course is your decision too – it would be great for them to have you there.’

She paused, trying to gauge his expression. He took her hands in his.

‘If you want to do this for Miranda and you’re absolutely sure, then of course I’ll come along and help. It could be a nightmare – you and Miranda haven’t been to London for so many years and Rufus and the girls have never left Stonewylde. Well, apart from Celandine and her ballet trip. So yes, I’d be happy to come.’

‘Oh Yul! That’s wonderful! I really want to be there for Mum. It’ll be so difficult for her.’

‘When is the trip?’

‘We haven’t arranged it yet, but the sooner the better. I think her mother doesn’t have long now. Next week perhaps – the beginning of October? Oh Yul, this proves to me how much you’ve changed. Before, you would’ve argued and moaned and tried to bully me into staying here. This really means a lot to me.’

He reached across the window seat and took her in his arms, holding her tight. She clung to him in return, loving the strength and leanness of him. But over his shoulder, in the corner of the room near the dumb-waiter, something shifted slightly in the shadows. Suddenly a wisp of aroma threaded just out of range, taunting her with its elusiveness. She pulled back and stood up abruptly.

‘What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?’ he asked, gazing up at her with blazing eyes.

‘Oh, never mind,’ she said quickly, heading for the door. ‘It can wait. It’s not something I’m sure about yet anyway . . . some other time. Sorry, Yul, but I need to get out of here.’

Faun and Rowan sat at the table, with the dishes cleared away and the sounds coming through from the kitchen of Rowan’s
mother
washing up. Rowan’s father sat in his chair by the fire, which he’d just lit as it was now October and the nights were becoming chilly. Rowan was tired after a long day in the Nursery and this was her reward; something she’d been looking forward to all evening.

Together they gazed at the cover of the glossy magazine. It had arrived today and had been brought down from the Gatehouse and delivered to Rowan just before the close of Nursery. They’d held back opening it, delaying the delicious moment until now, when they had ample time to savour the big spread about Aitch’s new Earth Ethics autumn/winter collection. On the front cover was a thumbnail photo with the caption ‘Where is Stonewylde?’ and Faun tapped it.

‘That’s Minky, isn’t it? She was definitely Finn’s favourite model.’

‘Shall we open it then?’ asked Rowan.

Together they flicked through the pages until Faun squealed with delight. They pored over the pages, then abruptly Faun sat back in her chair and her lip quivered.

‘I’m only in one of them and that’s in the background!’

‘Oh darling girl! But aren’t you lovely in it? Look at your hair!’

‘But look – it’s stupid Minky here, and JoJo there, and both of them with that other girl – Sabrina. Look, Mother – Rufus is in practically EVERY photo! I don’t believe it!’

And with that Faun burst into tears. Rowan’s mother came scurrying out of the kitchen and her father stood up in alarm.

‘What’s wrong with our Faun?’

Rowan cradled the sobbing girl in her arms and shook her head at them.

‘She’s just a mite disappointed with the photos. She looks beautiful o’ course, but she’s only in one of ’em.’

‘No! After all that excitement too! And our Faun were by far the prettiest of the lot!’

‘Yes, but I’m too FAT! And I’m not tall enough and—’

‘Don’t talk rot!’ said her grandfather. ‘You’re not fat at all,
my
girl. And you don’t want to be any taller or you won’t find yourself a husband.’

‘I don’t want a stupid husband!’ cried Faun. ‘I want to be a model!’

‘There, there,’ soothed Rowan. ‘Don’t cry, my baby. It’s so bad for your eyes. Stop crying and we’ll have another look and read what the article says.’

Eventually Faun calmed down and they looked again carefully, noting how Rufus did indeed grace every photo, and Kestrel and Lapwing were also in most, although more in the background.

‘Finn really did like Rufus,’ Faun said sadly. ‘Just about the only thing that makes me pleased is that Betony and Skipper aren’t in any more than me. That would be really awful. And when I think of the agony I suffered with my poor leg.’

‘Oh you were such a brave girl!’ said her grandmother. ‘They should never have taken you up Quarrycleave! That place is—’

‘This article is quite interesting,’ said Rowan. ‘There’s an interview with Holly and she talks of how she grew up here. I remember she was a bossy little cow and o’ course they all hated me, them Hallfolk girls, ‘cos I was chosen as May Queen.’

‘Oh Mother! You must have been so very beautiful!’

‘Aye, Magus certainly thought so,’ agreed her grandmother. ‘We were so proud and honoured to have our girl favoured.’

‘Was Dawn jealous too?’ asked Faun. ‘She was one of the Hallfolk girls, wasn’t she?’

‘I expect she was jealous ‘cos they all loved Magus,’ said Rowan. ‘She was a bit quieter than most of them though, to be fair, and not as unkind. Dawn always were nicer than the other Hallfolk girls.’

‘She’s started to show,’ remarked her mother. ‘I noticed ‘un when I took the buns into the Village School today. She’s carrying high and we all know what that means.’

‘It’ll be an Imbolc baby,’ said Rowan, ‘if she did conceive at the Hare Moon on her handfasting night – though I think she reckons ’twas at Mead Moon a month later.’

‘Aye,’ chuckled her mother. ‘ ’Twould be better at Hare Moon though. Remember the old rhyme?

‘
When the hands are tied, kiss the bride
,

When you jump the broom, kiss the groom
,

When wrists be bound, lay on the ground
,

When bluebells are thick, make it stick!
’

‘Oh Granny! That’s so old-fashioned,’ laughed Faun. She turned back to the photos again. ‘Well, the only good thing is that there’ll be a few more magazines like this and hopefully they’ll show more of me in the others.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ cried her grandfather.