Time's Legacy

  Nothing.

  Standing up, she stepped into the aisle, straining her eyes as the light grew fainter. The pink light on the floor was beginning to fade now into the grey of evening. Taking a couple of steps towards the back of the church she paused, then she took two more. There was a box of matches lying in a saucer on a shelf near the door. With a shaking hand she lit a candle and as its faint light spread feebly into the darkness she stared round. There was no sign of anyone there. Picking up the candlestick she looked round again, not giving herself time to think. She was not going to be driven from this place of refuge. There was no-one there. It was a small church. There was nowhere to hide. No vestry, no pillars, no curtains. The noises had been natural ones, the creak of ancient timbers, the small sounds of mice or bats, the branch of a tree tapping a window. With a final look round she went back to the altar step to pray.

  ‘No sign of Abi?’ Mat walked into the kitchen and looked round. He had brought in an armful of logs and he let them fall into the hearth.

  ‘Her car was there.’ Cal followed him in. ‘I hope she didn’t mind us going off so early. We should really have spoken to her before we left.’

  ‘I should think Abi welcomed some time to herself,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It was worth it though, wasn’t it!’ He smiled at her suddenly. The trip to Taunton had been to discuss a new job for Mat; or to be strictly accurate, an old one. A follow up for one of his previous clients. Nothing large or permanent, but a huge help financially in the short term. ‘Abi will be fine. You don’t have to watch over her the whole time. Unless – you don’t think the ghastly Kieran was here again?’

  Cal shook her head. ‘His car isn’t here. I expect she is out viewing the ghosts in the ruins.’ She went over to the window and looked out at the rapidly darkening garden.

  ‘What do you think is actually going on there?’ Mat stooped to pile the logs over some kindling and struck a match.

  ‘Not sure. They may be our ghosts technically, if one can have ownership of ghosts, but she is obviously connected in some way.’

  ‘And rapidly becoming obsessive. Ben is worried.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’

  ‘As is the ghastly Kier. The man is genuinely concerned. I know Abi is furious and resentful, and even frightened of him but he does have a point.’

  Cal made a face. ‘Don’t let Abi hear you say that.’

  The phone began to ring.

  ‘Heaven forbid.’ He walked over to answer it, listening for a few seconds before replying. ‘She’s not here, Athena. We were just wondering where she was ourselves. We’ve only just got in. OK. I’ll get her to call you.’

  He put down the phone and turned to Cal. ‘They went up the Tor this afternoon.’ He walked over to the door and opened it. ‘Go on, dogs, have a scout round. Where is Abi? Find her!’

  They watched as the dogs streaked off into the darkness, barking. ‘Do you think they know who you mean?’ Cal grinned.

  ‘Of course they do!’

  ‘OK. Let’s see how long it takes them to come back.’

  ‘Are you sure Romanus went with his uncle?’ Lydia had found Sorcha in the byre. She had taken an empty jug outside to the girl who milked the goats, dipping it into one of the cool clay storage bowls and had stayed to gossip.

  Sorcha nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. They went off together early. Romanus was running behind his horse.’

  ‘And do you know where they were going?’

  ‘Flavius had heard that Mora had been called to visit someone who had had an accident up in the gorge. He was sure the Galilean would have gone with her.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ Lydia’s voice was frozen with horror.

  ‘I’ve only just found out where they were going,’ Sorcha said defensively. She glanced at the milkmaid. ‘Rhiannon has just told me.’

  Lydia turned to the girl who had gone as white as the milk in her pail. ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘The lad who brought the fish, ma’am. He heard it from the woodman’s daughter who had told his brother to fetch the lady Mora from the island. The lord Flavius had offered good coins to anyone who could give him information about where she was going and why. I’m sorry. Was it wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Lydia shook her head impatiently. ‘You weren’t to know. None of you was.’ She stared out across the palisade, down the fields, towards the island. Darkness had come early, a white mist hanging over the water of the mere. ‘They should be back by now, surely.’ It wasn’t just that she was worried about Romanus. Petra’s pain had worsened sharply and she had retired to her bed, feverish, trying to suppress the agonised sobs which she knew so upset her mother. Lydia needed Mora to come back with the stronger medicine she had mentioned.

  ‘Romanus will be all right,’ Sorcha said reassuringly. ‘Flavius will look after him.’

  ‘You think so?’ Lydia turned on her. ‘The man is a professional killer.’

  There was a shocked silence behind her. She turned and surveyed the two young women. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s true. He is not to be trusted. I told Romanus!’

  ‘He’s a boy, lady Lydia,’ Rhiannon said quietly. ‘To him the man is exciting. Exotic.’

  ‘And I am someone whose orders can be ignored,’ Lydia murmured to herself as she turned away again and began to move back towards the house.

  Sorcha picked up her jug and made to follow her. ‘Let me know if you hear anything,’ she whispered under her breath.

  Rhiannon nodded. ‘I’ll ask the men when they come in. Someone will know something. The lord Flavius is not someone you see and instantly forget.’

  ‘Though he would have it so,’ Sorcha said wisely. ‘He seeks to creep around and listen and watch, spying on everyone and plotting against the family. The lady Lydia is right. He is not one to be trusted. I would not like my son to choose him as a hero to worship.’

  Both young women swung round as a group of men appeared at the gate. Laughter rang out in the misty air as they jostled into the yard and began to stack hoes and rakes and mattocks in a corner of the byre. Rhiannon called out and they came over. They all knew Flavius had offered rewards to people who could give him information about Mora; none of them knew that someone had accepted his bribe and sent him on a quest into the hills.

  The men looked at one another uncomfortably. ‘Was it wrong to listen to him?’ one of them ventured. He looked guilty.

  Rhiannon shook her head. ‘We are only worried because young Romanus went with him and no-one knows where they are. They should have been back by now.’ She looked across at Lydia and shrugged. ‘All you can do is wait, my lady. He’ll be all right. Romanus is a resourceful young chap.’ She smiled reassuringly.

  Back inside after a quick glance at her daughter who was sleeping fitfully, huddled under the covers, Lydia sat down by the fire, wrapped in her cloak against the evening chill. If only Gaius were there, but yet again he had made the long ride north towards the coast to meet up with the last batch of traders of the season. It had been a wet summer; the rivers had flooded, the summer-lands had never properly dried and now once again the meres and lakes were filling and spilling over one into another to make wider and wider lakes across the levels to the west. Mora said the wise men in the druid school were predicting a stormy autumn and a cold winter. Gaius had been reluctant to leave her, but there would be no more overseas trade after this until the spring. She shivered. It was imperative that Flavius leave too on the last boats. The gods forefend that he be trapped with them for the winter. She glanced up as Sorcha followed her inside. ‘Petra is asleep.’

  ‘Perhaps Mora will come back with them. She often senses when Petra needs her help.’

  Lydia nodded miserably. She was full of misgivings about Flavius’s intentions towards the young woman. What if he hurts her? What if he hurts Romanus?

  12

  Abi jerked awake with a shiver. Had she dozed off, there on her knees in the church? The place was in total darkness; she looked round ne
rvously. She had been dreaming about Petra, here in church, just a brief glimpse of the girl with her poor swollen hands huddling into her bed to keep warm as the wind rose, stirring the fire, blowing wisps of smoke around the interior of the house. Lydia too was worried. There was no news. No word from Mora.

  ‘Mora?’ Rising to her feet, Abi called the name out loud. ‘Mora? What happened?’ She made her way back down the aisle and fumbled for the door latch, pulling the door open. It was full dark now and she had no torch. She walked outside, closing the door behind her and stood for a moment staring round. There was still a faint glow of light in the west, but above her now the stars were appearing, bright in the clear night sky. In the distance she heard a bark, then again, closer. The dogs were back, which meant so were Cal and Mat. With a smile she turned towards the lych-gate. Before she was halfway there the two dogs had found her and leaped up in greeting.

  It wasn’t until after they had eaten supper and were sitting round the fire nursing their coffee that Abi mentioned Kier’s visit that morning.

  ‘He let himself in through the conservatory. If Justin hadn’t still been here I don’t know what I would have done – ’ She broke off mid-sentence, wishing she could bite off her tongue as she saw Cal’s look of anguish.

  ‘He only came to borrow some books, Mat,’ Cal said quickly.

  Abi saw the fury on Mat’s face in astonishment. ‘You didn’t think to mention the fact that he had been here?’ He was addressing his wife.

  She shook her head. ‘Why? When I know how much it upsets you.’

  ‘You know I have forbidden him to come anywhere near the house!’

  ‘It’s as much his house as yours, Mat,’ Cal said quietly. ‘Your grandfather left it to the three of you equally.’

  ‘And he chose not to take up his share. This is my home and I will not have him set foot under my roof!’ Mat stood up. ‘Has he been here before?’

  ‘You know he has.’

  ‘I mean recently. Tell me, Cal!’ They seemed to have forgotten that Abi was there. Thiz came and sat beside her uneasily, leaning against her legs and she lowered her hand to fondle the dog’s ears. She glanced down. Her hands were warming up. Instinctively she was seeking out the animal’s aching shoulders where arthritis was beginning to make its mark. She let her hand rest where it was for a moment with a small silent prayer. No-one noticed save the dog, who looked up at her with a small moan of pleasure.

  ‘He’s been here once or twice. He’s never stayed for more than a few minutes. He takes one or two books, and he’s always brought them back.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Mat turned away, his voice suddenly quiet.

  ‘You know why, Mat. Because I don’t want scenes like this. He’s every right to come here. You know that as well as I do. He does no harm. He touches nothing except the books. And they are as good as his. You know your grandfather meant them for him.’

  ‘And what does he do with them?’

  Cal shook her head. She went over to her husband and kissed his cheek tenderly. ‘He reads them, you ninny.’

  There was a moment of silence, then Mat shook her off and headed for the door. Banging it behind him they heard his steps running up the stairs.

  ‘Sorry,’ Cal said after a few seconds. ‘You didn’t need to see all that.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ Abi said sorrowfully. ‘It’s me that should be sorry. I knew you didn’t want me to mention him. It just came out.’

  ‘Mat’s not rational when it comes to Justin. I don’t suppose he ever will be now. It goes back a long way. Forget it happened. We’ll all be back to normal tomorrow morning.’

  ‘What does Justin do, Cal?’ Abi asked. Withdrawing her hand from the dog’s back, she picked up her coffee mug again.

  Cal hesitated. ‘He writes books. He’s a historian.’

  Abi smiled tentatively. ‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’

  ‘No.’ Cal sounded bleak.

  ‘Does he live near here?’

  Cal shrugged. ‘I don’t know where he lives, Abi. He’s never told us.’

  Abi knelt for a long time in prayer that night when at last she went upstairs. A hazy moon was hanging low in the sky as she stood up at last and went over to look out of the window. The garden was misty; she could make out little detail beyond the dim silhouettes of the trees. Somewhere an owl called, a sharp urgent shattering of the silence, answered from a long way away by a wavering hoot. She pushed open the casement and leaned out on her elbows. It was cold outside and smelled of dead leaves and wet earth. The smoke from the house chimneys wreathed around the rooftops, wafting the incense of burning oak and apple into the air. ‘Was it you, up there in the hills?’ she whispered again. ‘Were you here? Did you know Mora?’

  There was no answer. Turning away from the window at last she pulled it shut and went over to the drawer where she kept the stone. She had tucked it away before supper but now she brought it out again and unwrapped it on the bed. It lay there, an inert lump of rock with its crystal faces dim. She laid her hand on it gently. Nothing.

  ‘Mummy?’ She whispered the word into the quiet room, lit only by the dull moonlight at the window and the bedside lamp with its aged ivory shade. ‘Mummy, are you there? I need to talk to you.’

  Again there was no response. She picked up the stone and held it in her hands. ‘Why aren’t you working?’ She carried it over to the window and held it up to the moonlight, angling it back and forth to catch the pale gleam on its surface. With a sigh she left it on the window sill and finally climbing into bed she switched off the lamp and lay there staring up at the ceiling.

  ‘Athena isn’t in today.’ Bella glanced up from her magazine as Abi went into the shop. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Do you know where I could find her?’ Abi was amazed at the lurch of disappointment she felt at the news. She had counted on speaking to the woman again. Her combination of certainty and doubt, of knowledge and ignorance and reassuring experience of life suited Abi’s mood perfectly.

  Bella shrugged. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you.’ She looked anxious suddenly.

  ‘Her phone number then?’

  Athena sounded as though she had just woken up. With a groan she gave Abi the address. The flat was only minutes away, reached by an iron spiral staircase which led up out of one of the attractive little courtyards lined with small shops, which lie behind the high street. On the inner corner of every other step there was a plant pot. Athena opened the door dressed in an exotic black housecoat decorated with scarlet dragons and led the way into her kitchen. It was small and chaotic. Abi liked it immediately. Heavy greeny-blue pottery, plants, jars of herbs, a crystal ceiling chime, a lump of wood for a breadboard, still with her breakfast loaf, seedy, crumbly and smeared with Somerset honey. It was exactly the sort of kitchen she would have expected this woman to have.

  Hitching herself onto a stool at the breakfast bar she watched as Athena brewed fresh coffee. ‘I’m sorry to come so early.’ It was nearly eleven. ‘But I had to talk to you. The crystal still isn’t working, so maybe you’re right and it is all imagination. And I know you said I should rely on myself now, and not the crystal anyway, but I’m obviously not working either. Nothing is happening, and I have to know. Did he kill Mora? I haven’t slept all night.’

  Athena grimaced. She reached onto the counter for a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. ‘Sorry, I know it doesn’t go with the image, but I can’t think straight until I’ve had one.’ She struck a match and lit up, inhaling deeply. Then she shook her head, eyes closed. ‘Abi, dear, don’t you think it would be more sensible to worry about real people and real things?’

  Abi’s mouth fell open. ‘I’m sorry.’ She felt ridiculously chastened. ‘But I thought you understood.’

  ‘I do understand. All this crap is too beguiling, isn’t it? Romantic. Wonderful. It seduces you away from the real world. Then you turn back and find the real world has moved on and passed you by. That’s Glastonbury for you all o
ver. Bloody Avalon!’

  Abi was silent. ‘What’s wrong, Athena?’ she said at last.

  ‘Someone died.’ Athena was staring out of the window. A basket of pink pelargoniums hung there, from a brass hook.

  Abi sighed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She watched as Athena poured the coffee and hauled herself onto a stool next to her. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked at last.

  ‘That’s your job, isn’t it. Talking to the bereaved.’

  ‘It was part of it, yes.’

  ‘Do you still believe in it all? Heaven, I mean. Now you’ve seen the poor buggers hanging around in the ether acting out their lives again and again and again!’ Athena took another drag on the cigarette.

  Abi put her hands around her mug, warming them. ‘It’s something I have been thinking about a lot. My faith has had to change over the last few months. I haven’t lost it.’ She hesitated. ‘At least, I don’t think so. But I am having to adapt.’

  ‘How bloody convenient!’

  Abi bit her lip. ‘I don’t think it’s just convenient,’ she said after a moment. ‘It’s taken a lot of heart searching. I’m not there yet.’ She took a sip from her mug.

  ‘Tim. That’s who died. My husband. My ex,’ Athena said after another long pause. ‘Cancer.’

  ‘You still loved him?’ Abi said cautiously.

  ‘I suppose I must have.’

  ‘That’s hard.’

  Athena nodded. She sniffed. ‘I can feel him here. In the flat. Through there in the living room. Every time I go in there I can see him sitting at the clavichord; I never knew why he didn’t take it with him, he was the one who played it. I’ve never even tried. Not after he went. I always thought he would come back for it, but he never did.’ She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, slid from her stool and went over to the kettle. ‘This coffee’s cold.’ She flicked the switch. ‘He loved that thing.’