‘Andy?’ Meryn sat down beside her and put his hand on her forehead. It was ice-cold. ‘Andy? I want you to wake up!’ he commanded.
She did not respond.
She was in the castle.
She was holding Catrin’s hand.
Catrin was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking backwards and forwards in her misery. She had been sick twice and she was shivering violently. Andy put out a hesitant hand and touched her forehead.
Catrin shrank back as if she had been burned. ‘Who are you? Go away!’ she murmured.
Taken aback, Andy stood up and went to the table. Picking up the wooden beaker, she poured a little water from the jug that stood there and passed it to Catrin who took it reluctantly. Andy watched her sip. The cell, high in the tower, facing north across the town and the river towards the hills of Elfael, was bitterly cold. They had brought more blankets and given Catrin more food, but there had been no news of what was to happen to her. She asked the guards again and again when they came to bring her water or bread or pottage. Sometimes they brought her more substantial food. One of the men, more garrulous than the others, told her that was when the constable was in residence. He had ordered she be fed from his own table. He had not forgotten she was there. She sat staring into space and her hand strayed to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, gentle, caressing but in that moment it betrayed everything.
Oh God, Andy thought. She’s pregnant.
Catrin stared up at her, startled, as if she had spoken out loud. Then she burst into tears.
Andy looked on helplessly, unable to comfort her, unable to do anything.
She didn’t know if she slept; Catrin lay on her pallet on the ground shivering. It was at dawn that they heard the tramp of feet on the steps outside the door, the rattle of the key, the creak of the hinge. Andy drew back into the corner as Catrin sat up. A flicker of light played across the stone and a figure appeared in the doorway, a lantern in his hand. ‘Hurry! Come!’
The two words were whispered, barely audible.
Catrin scrambled to her feet. ‘Why? What’s happened?’ She was terribly afraid.
‘Follow me if you want to get out of here alive.’ The man retreated, holding the door open and waved her past him.
Catrin grabbed the cloak from her bed and ran towards the door. The candle flame guttered in the lantern and the shadows flickered up the walls, then she was gone. The door swung shut and the key turned in the lock.
Andy followed her to the door expecting to be there on the winding stair with her, running down towards the bailey. She put her hand out. It met the solid wood of the door, then the stone wall. She turned round desperately in the empty cell. She was locked in.
The rosemary had worked before. Meryn had retrieved the branch from the shelf where she had left it and held it under her nose once more, crushing the soft needles in his fist. ‘Come on, Andy!’ he commanded. ‘We don’t need this. I want you back here.’ He shook her gently. He could see it was no use. Under her lids her eyes were darting back and forth rapidly, her face contorted with fear, and she was beginning to make swift desperate lunges with her hands.
‘Help me!’
‘Andy, I am here, wake up.’
‘Help me. Let me out!’ She was crying now. He could see the tears trickling beneath her closed eyes. ‘Please, I shouldn’t be here!’ She sat up and clutched at the front of his sweater. ‘Oh God help me.’ He felt her begin to shiver.
Gently he pushed her back against the pillow and pulled the blanket over her again, watching her carefully. They were enveloped by the spicy smell of the rosemary. She was more peaceful now, lying quietly, clutching the bedcovers up to her chin. ‘Where are you, Andy?’ he murmured. He touched her hand gently. It was ice-cold. He lifted the pile of sweaters from the chair near the window and pulled it over beside the bed. Then he sat down. ‘You and I need to talk, Andy,’ he murmured. ‘I know you can hear me. I want you to listen.’
Downstairs Sian had awakened with a start. In her dream she had heard the scream. She sat up, staring round. Outside the curtains it was daylight. She had been asleep on the sofa in Sue’s little parlour, covered in a rug. Staggering to her feet she made her way into the great hall and looked towards the staircase, her heart thudding with fright. She took two steps up, then she heard Meryn’s voice from upstairs. It was steady, soothing. Whatever was going on up there he was dealing with it.
She glanced at her watch then headed towards the kitchen. It was just after eight. She had to get back to her dogs.
Bryn had decided it was raining too hard to go to work. His first email had gone off as he was waiting for his coffee to perk; there was little chance of it being read for a few hours yet. However keen the man was it was still the middle of the night in Boston. He pondered the wisdom of getting in touch with Meryn’s policeman contact, Dai Vaughan, direct. The police would be necessary at some stage, but in the meantime perhaps he would wait for more concrete information.
It might be too wet to work, but he was too worried about Andy to stay away for long. It took Bryn no time at all to drive to Sleeper’s Castle and tuck his car in next to Andy’s. He headed round to the back door. It was locked. He knocked gently, then more loudly. Stepping back onto the grass he looked up at Andy’s bedroom window in time to see a face in the shadow.
Meryn opened the door and drew him in. ‘Sian had to go back to let her dogs out. And Andy’s upstairs.’ Meryn sighed. ‘She promised me she was going to take a shower and come down to breakfast. When she didn’t appear I went up. She’s gone back to sleep and I can’t wake her.’
Bryn stared at him in astonishment. ‘I thought you knew all about this stuff.’
‘I do, usually.’ Meryn pursed his lips. ‘This house is so powerful.’ He sighed. ‘And so is she. She’s determined to stay there, in the dream.’
‘And you don’t want to leave her to sleep it off?’
‘I’m not convinced what is happening is good for her.’
Meryn led the way out of the kitchen and upstairs and the two men made their way into Andy’s bedroom.
She was lying sprawled on the bed, clutching her pillow to her as if her life depended on it. The room smelt strongly of rosemary. Her hair was tangled across the pillow, her face white, her eyes not merely closed but almost screwed up against the light. As they watched, she began to thrash to and fro, groaning, then she lay silent again.
‘Look at her hands,’ Bryn whispered as the two men looked down at her. Her fingers were clawing at the pillow, her nails splitting and bleeding as they watched.
‘She’s tearing at something far more solid than a pillow in her dream,’ Meryn said quietly. ‘A wall perhaps, or a door.’
‘You have to do something!’ Bryn said in anguish. ‘For goodness’ sake! You can’t leave her like this.’ He pushed Meryn aside and, taking Andy by the shoulders, he shook her hard. ‘Andy! Andy wake up!’
She gasped and tried feebly to pull away from him. Meryn put his hand on Bryn’s shoulder. ‘Leave her. She can’t hear you.’
‘But we have to do something.’ Bryn looked round. ‘Supposing we take her out of the house?’
Meryn frowned, then he understood. ‘Because the house is making her dream? It’s worth a try.’
Between them they pulled her off the bed. Bryn draped her arm around his shoulders and with Meryn on the other side they half dragged half walked her across the room and down the stairs. Opening the kitchen door they edged her out into the garden, panting, and lowered her onto the bench. ‘I’ll fetch a rug to keep her warm.’ Bryn ran back into the house.
Meryn sat down beside Andy, then he caught her hand and rubbed it. ‘You’re free, Andy. Wherever you are, you can come home now,’ he said gently. ‘See, the door is opening. Walk towards it. It’s morning. The sun is rising. You are free.’
She grew still at last, shivering. He looked up as Bryn appeared with the rug and they tucked it round her. ‘Andy, wake up,’ Meryn said again. ?
??You are free now. Walk outside and come home.’ She gave a groan. ‘Do you want me to come and fetch you?’ He tucked her hands under the blanket. ‘Face me, Andy,’ he went on. ‘And open your eyes.’
After a moment’s hesitation as the two men held their breath she seemed to hear him. She turned her head slightly. Bryn breathed a great sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank God!’
Meryn leant forward. ‘Open your eyes, Andy. Wake up now. You are free.’
30
Roy Pascoe had parked the car a couple of miles away at the bottom of the hill. This was one of his favourite walks, up through the fields following the network of tracks up towards the Offa’s Dyke Path which led over the high tops of the Black Mountains towards the south. It had stopped raining and a soft curtain of mist was drifting across the fields. He had dropped Ella off with a friend in Hay and had promised to go and pick her up later. Their boy Friday was looking after the shop. The rest of the day was his. He took a deep breath of fresh air; he felt blissfully light-hearted and free.
He stopped to extricate his camera from his daysack and hung it round his neck. Somewhere above the mist he heard the cronking call of a raven.
The path led up through the foothills behind Sleeper’s Castle and gave him a perfect view of the house in the distance. He could see the lichen-covered slates of the roof, the old stone chimney, the clump of houseleeks nestled in the angle of the roofs above the guttering. It was an attractive old building, built in an L-shape around a stone-flagged courtyard, which opened on two sides onto a terrace. He could see the stone walls to one side, now in ruins and photogenically hung with moss and fern. There was a large expanse of gardens around the back and what looked like a couple of paddocks nestling into the side of the hill. As he stood staring down at the house a beam of sunlight broke through the mist, lighting up the lichen on the roof in shades of orange and silver. It was beautiful. He groped for his camera and headed down the field to get a closer shot.
He stopped abruptly. He hadn’t realised there were people in the garden at the back of the house. Holding his breath, he edged closer. Andy and Bryn and Meryn. It was peaceful down there and very private and suddenly he didn’t want to intrude. All he wanted was a photo of that lovely roof.
He moved closer. He would take the picture from the hedgerow and then turn back without disturbing them. He was placing his feet carefully amongst the litter at the foot of the hedge so as not to make a noise when he glanced away from the scene in the garden and realised there was someone standing near him. He turned to look and found himself face to face with a woman wearing a belted raincoat. She was only a few feet away from him and in her hand there was a large knife. He had no time to cry out, no time to think. The last thing he did was click the shutter on the camera as he fell forward into the bushes.
Bryn sat down on the other side of Andy, drawing the rug more tightly round her. ‘You’re fine, Andy. Safe now.’ He groped for her hand and held it tightly. ‘Stay with us. You’re awake. It was only a dream.’
Meryn was standing beside them, distracted, staring beyond the lawn towards the hedge. ‘Take her inside, Bryn.’ He had heard the raven’s warning and now he felt the surge of visceral fear on the air, sensed the blood. He had seen the agitated sway of leaves and branches. This was not part of Andy’s dream.
Bryn looked up, hearing the urgency in Meryn’s voice. ‘What is it?’
‘I think we have a visitor.’
Bryn didn’t hesitate. He threw his arm round Andy and pulled her to her feet. ‘Can you walk or shall I carry you?’
She was too confused and exhausted to argue. She staggered a few steps, and then leant towards him as he swung her up into his arms. Staggering under her weight he half ran with her towards the kitchen door. Inside, he slid her onto a chair. ‘Will you be all right there? Let me go and make sure Meryn is all right.’
She was pale, dishevelled, scented with rosemary. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ she stammered, but he had already gone back to the door. He stared out. Meryn had disappeared.
Turning towards Andy he watched for a fraction of a second as she sat, her hands spread out on the table in front of her. He grabbed the key from the lock, pulled the door shut behind him and locked it. At least she was safe. He ran across the lawn towards the far hedge seeing now where Meryn had forced his way through, breaking branches as he went.
‘Don’t try and come,’ Meryn’s voice emerged from the undergrowth. ‘Call an ambulance.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. It’s Roy Pascoe. He’s been stabbed.’
Bryn froze. ‘Is he alive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Rhona?’
‘No sign of her. Stay with Andy till they come. I’ll wait with him.’
Bryn could see them now through the criss-cross of hawthorn branches, Roy lying sprawled amongst the thorns, his camera discarded beside him. Meryn was crouching by his side, pressing a pad of something over his chest.
Bryn groped in the pocket of his jeans for his phone, then turned and sprinted back to the house. He found the key and let himself back into the kitchen, terrified for Andy, but she was still where he’d left her, sitting at the table. She raised her head wearily as he came in. ‘Is she safe?’
‘Is who safe?’ Bryn closed the door behind him with his shoulder. He was barking instructions into the phone.
‘Catrin of course.’
‘I don’t know.’
Andy stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Why do you want an ambulance? What’s happened?’
He switched the phone off. ‘Roy Pascoe’s outside. I’m afraid he’s had an accident. Don’t worry, we’re safe in here.’
She stared round the room, slowly taking in what was happening. ‘Was it Rhona? Where’s Meryn?’
‘He’s with Roy.’
‘But Rhona might hurt him.’
‘If it was her, she’s gone now.’ Bryn went to the window and peered out. He was torn. He wanted to go out and help Meryn, but he wasn’t going to risk leaving Andy alone a second time. She climbed to her feet and came to stand beside him. ‘This is all my fault. That wretched woman. She’s completely mad.’
‘I think she probably is.’ He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘The ambulance won’t be long.’
‘You should call the police.’
‘The operator has already done that.’
Andy stood up and staggered over to the sink. She picked up a glass off the draining board and filled it with water. She was waking up fast. ‘She won’t have gone far if it’s me she’s after.’
‘She might. If she thinks she’s killed someone,’ he replied grimly.
‘You don’t mean he’s dead?’ She dropped the glass into the sink. ‘Not Roy!’
‘I don’t know how he is. Meryn is with him.’
‘Supposing she comes back. Meryn is alone out there.’
‘And you’re alone in here,’ he said softly. ‘The police will be here soon. Until they come, I’m staying here with you.’ He managed a smile. ‘I’m stubborn like that.’
‘You’re stubborn in a lot of ways.’ She went over to the rocking chair and sat down. ‘But thank you.’
The police were there within minutes. Bryn and Andy heard the siren in the distance. When the car arrived Bryn was at the front door to let them in. He led them through the house to the back door and pointed across the yard towards the hedge. ‘The air ambulance is on its way.’
One of the policemen stayed with Andy, the other followed Bryn across the grass. After that, it was all out of their hands. The helicopter landed in the paddock behind the garden and the paramedics examined Roy, put him on a stretcher and loaded him. The police searched the premises, the outbuildings and the cave. There was no sign of Rhona. What they did find was Roy’s camera and the last picture taken, which showed her, knife raised, eyes staring, teeth bared as she attacked him.
The patrol car left soon after the ambulance; Meryn had given them Ella’s phone number an
d they headed down to Hay to pick her up and follow the ambulance to the hospital. Another, unmarked, car arrived. In it was Dai Vaughan, looking very serious. ‘We’ve lost track of Rhona Wilson,’ he reported. ‘Her car was seen parked behind a pub in Brecon yesterday, but she checked out last night and there’s been no sighting since. She seems to know her way around. There’s a warrant out for her arrest, so it shouldn’t be long before she’s apprehended.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Can I suggest that you, Miss Dysart, move out until then. You’re very isolated up here.’
‘I’m not going anywhere!’ Andy retorted. ‘It’s nice of you to be concerned, and obviously you have to be, but I can keep the doors locked. She hasn’t perfected the art of walking through walls yet.’
She glanced at Meryn with a rueful grin.
Dai intercepted the exchange between the two of them and raised an eyebrow. ‘Should I be worried by that remark?’
‘No!’ Meryn replied. ‘No, Rhona Wilson may be many things but a ghost she is not.’
Bryn walked with Dai back to his car. On the way he told him about his research into Rhona’s possible past.
‘But I was told you were the gardener!’ Dai had stopped and extricated his notebook.
‘One man in his time can be many things!’ Bryn retorted. ‘Ambitions change and I opted for a life tilling my native soil. It suits my temperament better.’ He folded his arms.
Dai shook his head. ‘You should have told me this when you first suspected who she was.’
‘I didn’t have any proof. I still don’t.’
‘And your boss up there doesn’t know any of this?’ Dai gave him a quizzical look.
‘My boss? Oh, you mean Andy?’ Bryn shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t know.’
‘I see. Well, I suspect you ought to tell her. And Meryn.’ He studied Bryn’s face. ‘Ah. Meryn knows.’
Bryn grinned. ‘You’re not a bad psychologist yourself.’
‘Maybe not.’ Dai climbed into his car. ‘Ring the hospital this evening. They’ll let you know how your friend is. I gather from control that he was stable when they left. I’m afraid we can’t spare a full-time police presence to leave with you here at the moment, but if there’s any sign of the woman we can be back within fifteen minutes, so call us immediately. I’ll give you the priority number to put into your phones, and 999 will always get us. And we will be looking for her meanwhile, have no fear of that. There is already a call out for her vehicle registration – shouldn’t be too difficult to spot a red sports car.’