Siren Spirit (2 page)

It was Friday evening, and the cosy village pub was packed. A few faces nodded in Lewis’s direction as they wandered through to the dining area. A waitress showed them to the only free table and took their drinks order.

“I didn’t realise this was a formal dinner date?” Emma smirked at Lewis, then looked down at her jeans in dismay. They were not the outfit she would have chosen for somewhere like this.

“Oh, they don’t stand on ceremony here,” he reassured her. “But the only way to get a table at the weekends is to book in advance, and I come here every week anyway. It’s nice to have some company for a change.”

She looked over the menu. “It all sounds lovely.”

“I can recommend virtually everything. Especially this,” he said, nodding to the bottle of wine the waitress was pouring into their glasses.

“A toast, I think. To your new home!”

They clinked glasses. Emma felt the liquid pour down her throat far too easily. “Oh, that’s just what I need, after the day I’ve had,” she said.

“I can well imagine.”

Lewis raised a sarcastic eyebrow, which piqued her curiosity, so she cocked her head to encourage him to explain himself.

“I saw the removals guys yesterday, and something was conspicuous by its absence.”

“Oh?”

“You have moved into an empty, unfurnished property with virtually no furniture.”

An awkward silence fell for a few moments. Emma dropped her gaze towards the empty place setting on the table, willing the waitress to arrive and take their food order, saving her from further embarrassment.

As if sensing her unease, Lewis started telling his own tale.

It seemed he had moved to the village under similar circumstances. He hadn’t wanted to work for his father in the family business so decided to move out of the City and into the countryside, seeking a more simple life. He was a keen painter and wanted to develop it further, hoping the relaxed pace of life would encourage his more creative side to manifest in his work.

By the time Lewis had finished his story, Emma was half a bottle of wine down and starting to feel a little tipsy.

Finally the food arrived. She hadn’t realised how hungry she had been and tucked into her food with a rare enthusiasm. Once the fish and chips were devoured, she relaxed and sat back with a contented smile.

“That was delicious, thank you.”

“I’m surprised you had the time to taste it,” Lewis teased. “You must have been hungry. So, are you ready to tell your story?”

“My husband and I drifted apart really,” she began. She couldn’t tell him too much. Not yet. She recalled some of the grimy details and chose to tell the edited highlights. “It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, to be honest. He just came home one day and told me he didn’t find me attractive any more.”

Tears pooled in her eyes but she managed to blink them back while taking another gulp of wine for courage. Not here, not now. I hardly know him.

“Shit. I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Lewis placed a tentative hand over hers. She desperately needed a friend to confide in, but she didn’t want to make herself appear vulnerable either. She was stronger than that. Besides, she had moved here so she could start over. Time to get a grip.

“My friends have been great but they wanted me to move sooner. They say I haven’t grieved properly yet.” She rolled her eyes and gave a sarcastic grin. The emotion was threatening to overwhelm her again but she pushed it away.

“Well, I for one am very glad you’ve arrived,” Lewis said.

He whispered something to the waitress as she removed their plates, and Emma took the opportunity to glance around the bar and restaurant a little more. The remaining customers were finishing their desserts. They would soon be alone save for the few stragglers in the bar at the front.

She need not have been concerned about talking to Lewis. He changed the conversation several times, and with skill, to avoid her dwelling on her past. He spoke of his painting and showed her photos of his work, which she admired. He also had a successful painting, decorating and odd-job business in and around the village and the surrounding area.

Lewis pointed out several characters in the bar - the headmistress of the primary school, Mrs Sampson, and her husband, an accountant in the neighbouring town; Reverend Smythe; Lesley, who ran the convenience store was chatting to Clive, an elderly gentleman whose wife had passed away many years ago. The gossip was that he and Lesley had been having an affair for years but had never made it public.

These were the stalwarts of the village, the people who fought to keep its quaint English character in the face of the threat from a construction company.

The village had fought off Sirius Construction at first, after the first planning application included over a hundred new homes. After negotiations and help from local businesses, however, the villagers had conceded to more modest plans on the understanding that the developers would also provide amenities so that the village could cope with the rising population. According to Lewis, survey work was now complete, and they had started clearing the area and laying foundations for the first few houses.

Lewis offered Emma his hand as he walked her home to the cottage. “The parish council are campaigning for more street lamps,” he explained. “But in the meantime, the path up to yours can be lethal in the dark.”

She took it reluctantly at first, but after a few yards Emma realised she could barely see a thing and was glad of the support. Suddenly, she missed the hubbub and glow of the city. It was almost too quiet.

Lewis was the perfect gentleman as he wished her goodnight. It had crossed her mind that he may try and kiss her, and she had been worrying about how to handle the situation.

The cottage was quiet as she entered. Lily opened a single eye from her place on the sofa and decided it wasn’t yet breakfast time, so went back to sleep. Emma didn’t really want to spend the night alone but she realised that she had no choice. She was still not over Paul, and …

A whooshing noise interrupted her thoughts. She froze at the bottom of the stairs and looked up towards the source of the noise. On the landing, an old perfume bottle she had found was rocking to and fro, quicker and quicker, then came to rest exactly where it stood, on a small table overlooking the top of the stairs.

She stared, unblinking. All was still, save her heart, beating so fast it threatened to burst through her ribcage. The faint yet unmistakable scent of lily of the valley flowers wafted down the stairs towards her.

Standing still, Emma weighed up her options. Should she stay and wait for whoever might be upstairs to finish and come down? Or, should she go up and confront the intruder?

“Hello?” she managed to whisper.

The moments passed in a bizarre fashion; the clock ticked but Emma couldn’t gather her mind sufficiently to have the faintest idea how long she stood there for. She stared at the perfume bottle. The fragrance had dissipated and the small glass receptacle was still, just as if nothing had happened.

No one answered.

A terrible thought hit her. Where was Lily? A tiny murmur came from behind her, and the reassurance of warm fur curling around her calves allowed her to let out the lungful of air she had been holding in.

She grabbed the nearest thing she could find to use as a makeshift weapon - an umbrella - and slowly climbed the stairs. Reaching the table, she picked up the perfume bottle and examined it. It had caught her eye on moving day; such a pretty little object – emerald-green cut glass with a stopper in the top. She shivered as she touched it and she felt light-headed. Regretting her slightly tipsy state immediately, she decided she had been imagining things and placed the bottle back down on the table.

With only slight wariness, Emma made her way to bed, with Lily following behind her. As her eyelids drooped, she resolved to try not to get spooked by stupid things. She lived in the country now. There were all sorts of strange noises and she would just have to get used to them.

Sunday, 29 February

Today would have been Mama’s birthday. Oh, I do miss her so. I am in the parlour now, looking at her collection of books. She has signed her name, in her best handwriting, inside the cover of every one. Pa can’t bear to let them go, but he does not approve of me reading them as much as I do.

My favourite stories are here. Robinson Crusoe and his Man Friday having such wild adventures. The tale of the boy Tom Jones is another. I have read these a dozen times each, I swear!

Mama was so clever. I remember sitting here with her, as she taught me my letters and numbers as a little girl. I remember Mama and Pa arguing because she wanted to teach me. Pa thinks only boys should know such things, but why must I not enjoy these books too?

Sunday, 21 March

It’s late in the year for us to be still having a frost, I can tell you. It’s meant to be the first day of spring, but I almost slipped on the icy cobbles on my way from the bakery with the breakfast bread. It turned out to be a beautiful day, though, in the end.

After my chores at home and with Pa at the forge after lunch, I went to call on Lucy. Her cousin Suzanne is staying with them. Poor lamb! Suzanne’s parents were both killed just two months ago in a terrible carriage accident in London, Lucy said, and her aunt has brought her here to rest and recover. It will be to get over the shock, I imagine.

It put me in mind of Mama again, and of why my dear Pa finds it so hard to look at me now I am older. I know he misses her, but I feel sometimes that I have almost lost my Pa too. I can’t remember the last time I saw him laugh, or even smile.

Easter Sunday, 11 April

Well, what a lovely morning at church! So nice to see Lucy and Suzanne there too, looking so fine, both in their new frocks. I wish I could look the same in mine but I’ve never had a mind for all the fashionable ladies things. Mama always said I was to be admired for my brains because that is what’s important in this world.

Suzanne’s overbearing aunt has returned to London now and I notice she seemed much happier than the first time I met her. It surely makes her very much finer when she smiles too. She’ll catch the eye of some suitor before long and be swept off her feet, no doubt.

Easter Monday, 12 April

I was so excited to be invited to visit Lucy and Suzanne for tea today. Lucy promised to find the best cups and saucers she could so that we could make believe we were ladies of standing, like that Lady Shotterham up at the manor.

Lucy brought some freshly baked cakes, and she sat and chattered on about Mr James Postlethwaite, who has been paying her some attention, it would seem. She is most distracted by the whole thing. He seems a nice young lad, I suppose, but he’s never been of interest to me. None of the lads in the village ever have been.

Monday, 26 April 1784

Suzanne came to see me at home today. Took me by surprise and no mistake! Pa was finishing up in the forge for lunch and he agreed she could join us, so I set an extra place at the table.

Suzanne was just the perfect company too. It’s been just Pa and me for so long, and it did warm my heart so to see the beginnings of a smile on Pa’s face when she spoke to him. She spoke of Lucy and her obvious affection for James. He’s properly courting her, it seems, so there’ll be no more tea parties at the inn for a while, I wouldn’t have thought.

After lunch, Pa returned to the forge and Suzanne helped me tidy the pots away. She said she had wanted to spend some time alone with me. She is a much quieter girl than Lucy, and I like that. She told me that she wanted us to be close friends. It sounded so lovely to my ears for her to say that, and I could do nothing but smile!

Despite the alcohol in her system, Emma couldn’t sleep. All was not quite well with Lily either; she had paced up and down the bed for a little while, before jumping off and continuing on the hardwood floor, her little claws clattering like miniature stilettos in the darkness.

Emma got up to open the bedroom door, in case a feeling of being trapped was the cause of the Lily’s unease. But the pacing continued. Emma went back to bed and the cat followed. There was no curling up quietly, though. Instead Lily sat bolt upright, her almond eyes wider than ever and her fur raised at the back of her fluffy neck. Her tail swished from side to side. Emma sighed. There was no way she would get to sleep while Lily was so disturbed.

A cold breeze blew through the room and Lily uttered a low growl. Emma couldn’t remember leaving any of the windows open. She sat up and shivered, aware that her own hair was also standing to attention. Memories of a physics lesson involving a device that made her hair almost reach the classroom ceiling entered and then left her mind. Yes, it definitely felt like a kind of energy.

She was about to turn on the bedside light when she thought she heard a whisper and froze. In the darkness she could make out little more than the outline of the cat, now at the foot of the bed and staring at the windowsill. The deep feline growl continued.

“What is it, Lily?”

The sound of her own whisper almost scared her to death. Emma had hoped it would put the cat at ease, but no such luck.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Lily!” she said out loud, as much to break her own fear as the cat’s. “There’s nothing here. Go to sleep.” And with that, she tucked herself up underneath the duvet and got comfortable.

Again, the hint of a whisper broke the silence. Emma tried to listen for words but she decided it was just a breeze rustling the leaves on the trees.

Without warning, one of her deepest erotic fantasies crept into her mind. She couldn’t believe the thought would hit her at such a time, but she figured if it took her mind off the current situation enough, it may just help her get to sleep, so she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander, and her hand did the same.

Reaching between her legs, she found a considerable wetness had already gathered and she proceeded to stroke herself. She became aroused more quickly than usual and a moan escaped her lips. The room seemed warmer now, and Lily was beginning to settle down. Emma relaxed and her arousal soared.

She had never felt so turned on while alone before. She wondered if it was because of the tension that had been in the room. Throwing back the covers and abandoning herself to the moment, she exposed her nakedness, panting and breathless.

Oh, how good this felt! The stroking was firmer now and the intensity rose another notch. The rise and fall of her chest as heavy gasps of air flowed in and out seemed to be fuelled by an energy different from her own. This was a new power. Her skin came to life, almost as though a lover was attending to her with the lightest of touches.

A film of perspiration covered her body as the climax washed over her, the sensation more intense than she had ever experienced. Tears formed in her eyes in the afterglow, the flood of emotion almost overwhelming her.

As she lay there, recovering her breathing, Emma thought she could almost make out another whisper, or perhaps a sigh, but she was drifting into a deep and dreamless sleep now.

***

When she woke the following morning, the first thing Emma was aware of was some kind of floral scent. As she came to, she realised it was lily of the valley again, and she flashed open her eyes. Instantly, the aroma disappeared.

Lily stirred and yawned, proudly displaying a full set of healthy feline teeth. One slow blink later and it had been decided that, yes, it was definitely breakfast time, so she stood and completed a full-body stretch before leaping off the bed and staring back at Emma with a soft meow.

Seeing the cat so relaxed brought Emma great comfort. She wondered how much of last night’s events she had imagined. Trying to piece things together proved futile, and her mind remained somewhat muddled after her deep sleep. It was difficult to remain focused.

One thing pleased Emma though: she had no sign of a hangover. Masturbation seemed to cure it, clearly. It had been the most intense orgasm of her life, enhanced by the feeling that she was perhaps not alone, that if she had opened her eyes, she would have found someone gazing down at her. But who? She pushed the thought from her mind. Country living was supposed to help her recover from heartbreak, not make her lose her mind.

The fact remained, however, that it was many months since she had felt the touch of a man, partly because of her marriage break-up and partly because of uncertainty about her fantasies. More and more, she had caught herself admiring other women in a way that she hadn’t been brave enough to do before. Her divorce had given her an opportunity to explore this aspect of her sexuality but a chance to take it further had not yet presented itself.

A nagging ache deep in her belly reminded her of the time of the month and she rushed to the bathroom. So that was why the orgasm had been so intense! Satisfied by a reasonable and intelligent explanation for the evening’s events, Emma continued about her day.

Now and then, though, she allowed herself a moment or two to wonder about the pungent fragrance. It wasn’t a perfume she had ever owned herself.