The Puzzle Ring (15 page)

I need to know what happened
, she told herself.
I need to know the truth
.

Slowly she lifted the hag-stone to her eyes again. ‘Show me true,' she whispered.

Once again Hannah saw the snowy scene by the dark pool, but this time she saw a young man creeping out from the cleft in the hill. He was dressed in modern clothes—jeans and a dark hooded parka. His tangled curls were red, and he had the long nose that Hannah had inherited. It was her father!

The man in the black robes shouted and raised high his flaming torch. He did not see Hannah's father crouched
behind the boulder a few metres away, drawing something out of his parka pocket. It was shaped roughly like a squat brown candle. Robert waited till the man had flung his torch onto the pyre, then he hastily lit a match and applied the flame to the wick of the candle.

At once thick smoke began to pour out, billowing across the clearing. As the onlookers coughed and turned away, Robert ran forward and leapt onto the pyre. He held a long pair of boltcutters in his hand, which cut through the iron chains as if they were made of paper. Eglantyne collapsed into his arms. Robert carried her behind the boulder, then turned and flung a handful of powder onto the fire. At once, there was a giant flash, blindingly bright. Women screamed, and the crowd all cringed back, shielding their faces as smoke poured out once more.

A magpie screeched and darted frantically overhead, but everyone was too busy coughing and shielding their eyes from the smoke to notice. Robert lifted Eglantyne and carried her through the long dark crack in the rock, and out of sight. The magpie swooped after them.

Hannah's hand dropped. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She thrust the hag-stone into her pocket and ran back towards the house. For the first time in her life she longed for things to be ordinary.

Haddock and potato soup, and playing Scrabble with her mother and great-grandmother by the fire all afternoon helped make the world seem stable again. Lady Wintersloe won every game, which pleased her enormously, and made Roz rather cross. Hannah was just happy to be warm and comfortable again.

Around four o'clock Linnet came in pushing the tea trolley, laden with freshly made scones and sticky marmalade cake.
Behind her came Donovan, dressed as usual in the colours of a bruise. His T-shirt was too small for him, showing a pale line of his thin, hollow stomach above his studded belt. He was carrying Jinx wrapped up in a towel.

‘Jinx!' Lady Wintersloe held out her arms.

Donovan laid Jinx on her lap and she stroked the cat's plush fur. ‘She should be fine. She was lucky. Toads are pretty venomous.'

Hannah surreptitiously slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out the hag-stone.
Hag-stones reveal the true nature of any person or creature viewed through the stone's hole
, the book had said. Hannah lifted it to her eye and looked at the sleeping cat.

Hannah saw a small grey winged imp-like creature, with stubby horns, scaly skin and sharp claws. The imp opened her round orange eyes and blinked once or twice, then saw Hannah observing her through the hole in the stone. At once she arched her back like a cat, hissed in rage, and leapt from Lady Wintersloe's lap, racing away through the half-open door.

Hannah put the stone back in her pocket.

‘Looks like Jinx is back to her old self.' Lady Wintersloe ruefully examined her scratched hand.

‘Bogey-cat,' Linnet said with feeling. She and Hannah shared a meaningful glance. Hannah knew without a doubt that Linnet could see the true nature of the cat as clearly as she had. ‘I'll get you a sticking-plaster for that. You're bleeding.' The tiny old woman went hurrying out of the room, leaving Roz to pass Lady Wintersloe a napkin and a cup of tea.

‘Did you see the bloodstains on the palace floor?' Donovan asked Hannah.

She nodded. ‘Clear as anything! It's amazing, isn't it? Why do you think they're still there, after so many years?'

‘My dad says it's a fake. He says they must paint it there every morning, so the tourists have something to gawk at.'

‘My mum says it's just a natural discolouration in the wood.'

They looked at each other and shook their heads, both saying, ‘Parents' at the exact same time, and then laughing.

‘So do you like Scotland?' Donovan asked.

‘I love it, what I've seen so far,' Hannah said.

‘You've got to go out into the wild places,' Donovan said. ‘You should climb Ben Lomond, or go into the woods, where all the wild creatures are. Or go out on the loch. Do you like fishing?' Donovan flicked his hair out of his face, his blue-grey eyes glowing.

‘I love it,' Hannah lied.

‘What about birds? You have some amazing birds in Australia. All those parrots and . . . what are they called? Those laughing jackasses?'

‘Kookaburras.'

‘Yeah. I'd like to hear them laugh.'

‘Not at five-thirty in the morning, you wouldn't.'

‘Yeah, I would. I don't mind getting up early. I often get up before dawn and go out bird spotting, or looking for foxes and badgers. You should come out with me one morning and see if we can spot any pink-footed geese flying in from Iceland. They come in their tens of thousands at this time of year, honking away. It's amazing. Or we might see some stags fighting, if we go into the forest.'

‘I'd like that. I've never seen a stag before.'

‘Never seen a stag! We'll have to go find one for you then. They come down to the lower ground in winter, so they're easier to find.'

‘Okay. When?'

‘Tomorrow. I'll meet you at the gates at six o'clock. It'll be dark, though, and cold, I warn you. The sun doesn't rise till after seven.'

‘I'll wrap up warm, then.'

‘Let's go set up the music room,' he said. ‘Max is already there, his mum took me to pick Jinx up from the vet. Scarlett will be along any minute.'

‘I'll just get my guitar,' she said. Hannah went slowly through the dark, cold, silent house to her room and came back just as slowly, carrying her guitar. She felt a knot of nerves in her stomach, but raised her chin and reminded herself that this was
her
great-grandmother's house and she had more right to be here than any of the others.

She could hear laughter and talking as she came through the music room door. It died away with her appearance. Donovan nodded and gave his crooked smile, but Max and Scarlett stared at her in open curiosity. Hannah stared back. She wondered if her grandmother was right and one of these three was really the long-lost child of a fairy princess. It seemed impossible. They all looked too normal.

Max was dressed in baggy khaki pants and an old army jacket, and was sitting sideways at the keyboard, kicking at the stool with his heels. Scarlett was wearing a cream suede jacket with fringed sleeves and skinny jeans pushed into knee-high boots. Her blonde hair swung loose and shiny, and she had pink lip gloss on. Immediately Hannah felt too tall, too plain and far too unfashionable.

‘Hi!' Max said. ‘Sorry I didn't help you carry your stuff the other day. My mum was cross with me.'

‘I can carry my own stuff, I don't need help,' Hannah replied stiffly.

‘Donovan says you think you can sing,' Scarlett said in a decidedly unfriendly tone. ‘I'll just have you know that
I'm
the singer in this band.' She tossed her blonde hair.

‘We can have more than one singer,' Donovan said. ‘Besides, she plays the guitar.'

‘Mmphf,' Scarlett said, clearly not impressed.

‘So what can you play?' Max said.

Hannah wanted to impress them, so she chose a song that needed a tricky change between the G and C chords. She picked up her guitar and strummed it lightly, listening to see if it needed to be tuned.

Scarlett snorted in disgust. ‘She doesn't even know how to hold the stupid guitar!'

Hannah looked at her coldly. ‘I'm left-handed, you idiot.'

‘You can't play a guitar left-handed!'

‘Why not? Paul McCartney's left-handed, and so was Jimi Hendrix
and
Kurt Cobain.' Hannah had had this argument a few times before.

‘Just let her play, Scarlett,' Donovan said.

Hannah began to play ‘Ain't No Sunshine'. There was silence while she played and sang, then Max and Donovan clapped their hands. Scarlett kept hers on her hips, her head tilted crossly.

‘Not bad,' Max said. ‘I think I've got the music for that somewhere.' He found it, and began to play the tune on the keyboard, and sing. He played for laughs, drawing out the vowels, throwing back his head and wailing the sad parts,
and banging up and down the keys dramatically, and not always hitting the right key.

Donovan said his name, once, quietly, and Max grinned and began to play it straight, singing along. After a moment's listening, Donovan began to improvise on his flugelhorn, and Hannah played along, singing too. Only Scarlett didn't join in. She looked cross and sulky.

‘Come on, Scarlett,' Max said coaxingly. ‘It's a good song. You must know the chorus.'

After a while Scarlett joined in too. She had a sweet voice, though it was not very strong. Hannah found it easy to dominate and drown her out, to her secret satisfaction. Scarlett sang louder. Hannah sang deeper, stronger, longer. With the two striving to outdo each other, they sang up quite a storm, and Hannah saw by the glow in Donovan's eyes that he was glad he had asked her to come along.

They mucked around for a while longer, trying to work out how to play songs they all knew from the radio or from their school choirs, or flicking through the piles of old sheet music on top of the piano, looking for things that were not too difficult. Scarlett was not happy at having Hannah there, and sneered at the music she chose, saying, ‘Can't we play something written this century? This is all so
boring
!'

‘Well, bring us something new to play then,' Donovan snapped. ‘I bet Hannah can play it, if you bring us the music.'

Hannah concentrated on her guitar, trying to hide the little glow his words gave her. Scarlett just tossed her head, and banged the old tambourine against her hip irritably.

All too soon the light began to dim outside, and Donovan packed away his flugelhorn. ‘I've got to get home. Dad said no more getting in after dark.'

‘Mum too. She doesn't like me walking past the fairy hill in the dark.' Scarlett pulled on her suede jacket. She glanced slyly at Hannah. ‘It's haunted, you know.'

‘I know. By the witch who was burnt to death there. At night you can hear her dog howling and, sometimes, the sound of her screaming.'

Scarlett stared at Hannah with round eyes. Hannah smiled. ‘Have a good walk home.'

The next few days were fine, and Roz hired an old rattletrap from Allan so she and Hannah could go and see some of Scotland. Since no one mentioned the curse, or Hannah's father, Roz seemed to relax a little and her small frown eased away. When they came in from the cold, Linnet always had the kettle boiling and they would sit with Lady Wintersloe in her warm, firelit drawing room and drink tea and talk over their day in such a cozy and comfortable way that Roz lost some of her stiff politeness and began to smile and chatter in a way Hannah had never seen before.

The following Friday, it was pouring with rain.

‘Not really the weather for driving,' Roz said, standing at the window and looking out at a world of grey.

‘We could have a quiet day at home. Catch up on some reading,' Hannah said.

‘Or on some maths worksheets,' Roz retorted. She had insisted Hannah must keep up with her schooling, and
had brought a pile of worksheets for her to do, which Hannah had nimbly managed to avoid till now.

‘All right,' Hannah said. ‘I'll help Belle with the crossword first, okay?'

Lady Wintersloe was bent over the newspaper, her glasses perched on her nose. ‘Boggle? That could fit. But no, that can't be right. Roz, what's another word for puzzle? Beginning with “B”.'

‘I don't know, Hannah's our wordsmith, not me. Bewilder?'

‘Too many letters.'

‘So it can't be bamboozle. What about baffle?' Hannah suggested.

‘Baffle! Of course. Clever girl. Thank you.' Lady Wintersloe scribbled down the word with her gold pen, while Hannah tried to remember where she had seen that word recently. Suddenly she remembered. It appeared in her father's book, in the very first entry:
Pestis must be infractus, but the baffled moon is lost in the mists of time
.

It suddenly occurred to her that her father must be talking about the puzzle ring. ‘Baffle' meant, of course, ‘puzzle'; and both ‘ring' and ‘moon' were round. It all began to make a strange sort of sense.

‘Belle, what does “pestis” mean?' Hannah asked.

‘What, darling? “Pestis”? Oh, it means to curse, I think, in Latin. Like a pestilence.'