The Amulet (3 page)

As she swung the door open, she felt the need
to duck, even though the ceiling was at least a foot taller than
she was. She looked around the cozy living room. There was a
fireplace, also. Actually, there was a fireplace in all the
original rooms of the cottage, as back in the day, that was the
only way to heat the house. She listened for signs of life and
could hear voices coming from the kitchen.

“Come on, boy. They’re in the kitchen.”

She closed the living room door and wandered
through to the contrastingly spacious dining room. The kitchen was
located on the other side. Faen followed at her heels. He very
rarely let her out of his sight when she was home.

“Hi, guys,” she called as she reached the
kitchen.

Her dad, uncle, and her uncle’s wife, Nicki,
were all seated around the kitchen table, situated in the center of
the room. They had their hands wrapped around cups of tea, and a
plate of cookies sat in the center of the table. Faedra strode over
to where her dad was sitting, and planted a kiss on his forehead
then leaned past him to grab a cookie.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, darling. How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Mr. Thompson still treating you badly?”

“I don’t know why you put up with his crap,
Faedra,” Uncle Leo chimed in, “I would have told him where to stick
his job a long time ago.”

“Thanks, Uncle Leo, but I need the money and
it’s not for much longer, I’ll be starting college soon.” Faedra
made her way around the table to where her uncle sat, and leaned
over to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’ll survive, I promise,”
she smiled her cheeky grin at him and planted a kiss on his
cheek.

“Well, you have the patience of a saint,
that’s all I can say,” Leo continued.

“Hey, Nicki, what are you doing this
weekend?” Faedra asked, quickly changing the subject of her dire
working arrangements.

Her uncle had met Nicki not long after her
mother had died and Faedra had taken to her straight away. Although
Nicki was a good ten years older than herself, she had treated
Faedra like a sister and taken her under her wing. She was happy
that her uncle had found such a wonderful person and wished that
her Dad would do the same. It had been nearly twelve years since
that fateful day, and her Dad had never been interested in meeting
anyone else even after all these years. She worried all the time
that he would be so alone when eventually the inevitable happened
and she moved out.

“We are attempting to take your Dad out on
the boat tomorrow, get him out of this house for a change,” Nicki
replied.

Faedra watched as her father raised his eyes
heavenward. She knew her uncle had been trying to get him out to
meet new people, mainly of the female variety, for a while. She
sympathized with her dad after he had confided in her that he felt
like a prize bull being paraded around a judging ring.

“That sounds like fun, Dad. I’d go with you
if I didn’t already have plans. I was going to invite Nicki to come
with us to Strawberry Fair tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Fae, but you’re already taking Amy
and Zoë, and Faen, no doubt. It would have been just a little
squashed in the back of your car.”

She had a point, Faen let out a little
whine.

“Don’t worry, you’re still coming,” Faedra
told him, and he wagged his tail.

Since he had turned up that day of the
funeral, they were virtually inseparable apart from when social
decorum dictated. He could not go with her to school or to work,
but waited patiently each day until she came home, and then didn’t
leave her side until the next morning.

“It’s a good thing Zoë loves you almost as
much as I do,” she told him kneeling down to rub his velvety soft
ears. “You can ride in the back with her, she’ll love that.” She
turned to her family. “Well, excuse me, everyone, I’m going to get
changed and run out to the barn. It’s a beautiful evening for a
ride.”

“Hey, young lady,” her dad called as she was
headed in the direction of her bedroom. “You still haven’t told me
what you want to do for your eighteenth birthday. It’s just around
the corner, or have you forgotten?” There was a hint of sarcasm in
his tone.

Faedra raised her eyes at Faen, who was
looking at her excitedly.

“Dad, I’ve already told you, I would like a
small dinner here with you guys, Amy and Zoë, and I will be in
seventh heaven. So don’t go planning anything big for me, will you,
I don’t want any fuss. Promise?”

Her father let out a sigh. He would love to
give his little girl a big birthday bash, but knew she wouldn’t
enjoy it. He had to be satisfied with a small, family and friends
get together instead.

“Okay, Darling, I promise.” his voice was
laced with disappointment.

CHAPTER TWO

Faedra sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom,
followed, as usual, by her faithful friend. She drew up the latch
on the door, which was also of the original old wrought iron
variety, and entered her room. Throwing her bag clumsily on the
bed, its contents fanned themselves out all over the comforter
because the clasp was not closed securely enough. She gave the mess
a look of nonchalance and shrugged her shoulders. It was the
weekend and she didn’t care, it could be tidied up later.

Her room was spacious and located above the
living room, but unlike the room below hers, this one had tall
vaulted ceilings. Another fireplace stood on the same wall as the
door. She assumed it connected to the imposing fireplace in the
dining room below. The walls were painted in a muted yellow and the
windows were dressed with floral drapes that looked completely at
home in the old cottage. On the opposite wall to the fireplace,
stood her dresser with a beautiful antique vanity mirror and an
array of toiletries and cosmetics. The type that adorned most of
the dressers owned by seventeen year old girls. On the other side
of the window was a desk. It was more modern and looked very out of
place in her quaint bedroom. A beautiful heirloom doll’s house
stood on its own platform opposite her bed. Her mother had given it
to her when she was a child and had told her the story behind it.
She had treasured it ever since. Her grandfather had built it with
love for her grandmother, who passed it to her mother when she was
a child. Her grandfather also made all of the furniture inside the
house. She often stared in awe at the intricate detail of the tiny
pieces, wondering how two big human hands could have created such
delicate objects. There was an old wicker chair next to the doll’s
house with a fleecy pale green bathrobe draped over it.

On the wall next to the fireplace there was a
small built-in closet that she had renovated, adding a glass door
and shelving, to be a showcase for her spectacular collections of
fairies. Her favorite, Arianne, taking center stage. She’d been
collecting them ever since her mother had given her the beautiful
figurine of a fairy on a stunning black horse, the day she
died.

“You don’t think I’m being mean, not letting
Dad throw me a big birthday bash do you, boy?” she asked Faen as
she opened the door to her collection, reaching in and carefully
picking up the figurine of Arianne. “But it’s just too close to
Mum’s anniversary and I can’t bring myself to celebrate when it’s
that close.”

Faedra never felt compelled to celebrate her
birthday at all, as it fell just a few days after the anniversary
of her mother’s death. Faen leaned up against her leg and let out a
small whine. She admired the figurine for a moment with sadness. It
was the most beautiful fairy she possessed, but it was linked to
the saddest memory she possessed, also.

“Ouch, here it goes again,” she winced, and
replaced the fairy in her showcase and looked at her palms. “I wish
I knew why they did that,” she stated, blowing on the palms of her
hands in an effort to cool them.

For the past few weeks the palms of Faedra’s
hands had intermittently seared with a burning sensation, but there
was never a rash or any redness. She couldn’t understand what was
causing it. She was starting to get concerned about it as the
intensity and frequency was increasing. She made a mental note to
go and see a doctor; though, she wasn’t sure what he would say when
there was no visible sign that anything was amiss.

“He’d probably just think I was crazy,” she
thought out loud.

Faen barked, distracting Faedra from her
reverie.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get ready, just hold your
horses.” She smiled at him. She knew he loved going to the horse
barn with her and jogging alongside when she took her horse out on
a trail ride.

She opened up her clothing closet on the
other side of the fireplace, and pulled out her jodhpurs and a
t-shirt, then discarded her work clothes to join the disarray
already building on her bed. She wiggled into her jodhpurs - it was
a good thing she was slim, as they didn’t leave any room for
expansion - pulled on her t-shirt, and wandered over to the
dresser. She scooped up the mass of curly red hair that was
tumbling down her back and tied it in a ponytail at the nape of her
neck then turned and headed for the door.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

She popped her head in the kitchen doorway on
her way out.

“Be back later, Dad. Bye, Uncle Leo. Bye,
Nicki, see you soon.”

Choruses of have fun and ride carefully
resonated from the table, but she had already turned and was
heading for the front door.

“Love you guys.” she called over her shoulder
as she exited into the living room.

Once inside the porch, she pulled on her
riding boots and marched out the front door. Faedra wandered round
to the right where the climbing rose bush was blooming in all its
glory against the front wall of the cottage. She carefully picked
one stem with a bud that was just about to open, then strode over
to the car, opening the back door for Faen first, who jumped in
wagging his tail. She got in and laid the rose with care on the
passenger seat as if it was the most delicate thing she had ever
handled.

Her horse was stabled at a barn just a short
drive away on the other side of the village. It only took a few
minutes to get there by car; before she could drive, she had ridden
her bicycle there come rain or shine. The boarding stables were
another of her favorite places, not only because it was home to her
horse, but because it, too, was a historic building. It used to be
an old farm and the section that housed the stables dated back to
when they had to pull the plough by draft horses. The stables lay
abandoned for the longest time until the owner decided to retire
from the farming business and renovated them to rent out. The
buildings were full of character. Faedra often found herself
imagining what it must have been like to see the heads of all those
big draft horses leaning over the stall doors, before the advent of
tractors had made them all redundant.

She pulled into the small car park that was
set aside for the boarders, picked up the rose from the passenger
seat and hopped out of the car, opening the door for Faen so he
could join her. She took a deep breath and looked across the road
to where the village church stood proudly amongst the headstones
that were dotted about all over the church grounds. The vicar once
told her that the original part of the church was built in 1160.
That was old by anyone’s standards, and the two bells that hung in
the square bell tower were thought to be the oldest in England. One
of them was from 1350 and the other from the fifteenth century. It
never ceased to amaze her that something that old could still be
standing.

“Come on, let’s go say hi to Mum,” she said
to Faen and looked both ways down the narrow country lane before
crossing.

She wandered up the little path that led to
the church. Upon reaching the door she veered off to the right and
followed the path that led behind it. There, spread out before her,
was the main part of the graveyard, the section where her mother
had been laid to rest nearly twelve years prior.

An odd sensation washed over her and she
snapped her head to the left in the direction that it came from.
This had been happening more frequently on her recent visits to the
churchyard. Yet again, there was nothing there except the familiar
figure of a black and white border collie, who upon seeing Faedra,
came bounding over wagging her tail so vigorously her whole body
wiggled in synchronization with it. She assumed the dog belonged to
the vicar, but had never seen them together. When the dog reached
Faedra, she sat down in front of her, looked up and gave her a
definitive smile. The first time she had done this, Faedra thought
she was baring her teeth in a vicious way and had been quite
unnerved. But it became apparent that the dog was ‘smiling’, and it
was the funniest thing she had ever seen. When the dog ‘smiled’ she
also squinted her eyes in an ‘I know something you don’t know’
fashion.

Faen growled faintly at the other dog as he
always did, and, in response, the collie rubbed her head under
Faen’s chin just as she always did.

“Be nice, Faen, I think she likes you,”
Faedra giggled. If a dog could go “urmph”, she swore Faen would
have. The look of dejection on his face was priceless. It was as if
he were an older sibling being forced to play with a younger
brother or sister.

She bent down to pat the friendly hound, and
when she was finished, the dog got up and trotted back to where she
always sat, in front of the northwest corner of the church. Faedra
stepped off the path onto the manicured grass and meandered her way
through the headstones until she reached her mother’s.

“Hi, Mum,” she said, placing the rose she had
picked earlier on top of the stone, replacing the one from a few
days before that was now shriveled and dry.