Beltane

by Alys West

  A babble of enquiries burst from Tony and Tanya. Waiting until there was a pause, Zoe said, “Helena, what the hell’s going on?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Helena repeated. “Maeve asked me to apologise for disturbing you. Persia brought a mouse in. Gave Maeve quite a fright, I can tell you. She’s sorry about the noise. That was me trying to catch it. It’s a tricky little beggar but I’ve got it cornered now.” Helena glanced at each of them as she spoke, her gaze darting quickly away.

  Zoe waited until Tanya and Tony said goodnight and returned to their rooms. “What’s really going on?” she said, her voice low. “Because if you’re asking me to believe that Maeve got spooked by a mouse I’m just not buying it.”

  “I don’t care whether you buy it or not.” Holding the kettle in front of her chest, Helena glared at Zoe. “That’s what happened.”

  Turning away, Zoe muttered, “Whatever.” She closed her door and turned the key in the lock. A headache was building behind her left temple. Picking up the glass of water from the bedside cabinet she tried to think. None of this added up. Maeve wasn’t the screaming type and definitely not about something as trivial as a mouse. She could probably stun it with a single steely glance. Plus there was no way a mouse would make that amount of noise.

  And that was only what had been going on inside the house. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. Then she gasped.

  The garden was a wreck. But much, much worse than that, it was a 3D replica of her drawing. A tree had been destroyed leaving only a shattered stub. Peering through the rain, her eyes opened wider when she realised it was the Green Man’s tree.

  It must have been struck by lightning. Dear God! What if it had happened earlier? Zoe shuddered. What had she been thinking to stand under it in a thunder storm? She needed her head read.

  And maybe she did, she thought, snatching her drawing pad from the bedside table and flipping it open. Frantically she looked between the picture and the garden. The only difference was that the man was missing from the scene outside her window.

  If she could dream and draw the carnage in the garden before it happened then there was no reason to think the man was simply a figment of her imagination. But where had he come from? And where had he gone?

  She traced her fingers across the drawing pad, lingering on the wounds on the man’s face, the gashes on his leg and chest, his cut hands. The rattling against her window must have been splinters from the exploding tree. If he’d been in the garden when the tree exploded then he was lucky to have suffered nothing worse.

  Flipping to the next page in her pad, she looked at him on the road to Glastonbury; rain pouring down exactly as it did outside her window. This could be happening right now. And somehow, impossibly, she’d drawn it yesterday.

  She shuddered, feeling suddenly sick. What the hell was happening to her? This was entirely different to the dreams she’d had about her family. There was no way she could have known the Green Man’s tree would blow up in the middle of the night.

  That could mean only one thing. She’d dreamt and drawn the future. Sinking to the floor by the bed she curled up, wrapping her arms around her bent knees.

  Was there some way to stop these dreams? A switch in her head she could flip so it didn’t happen again? What good could come of seeing things before they happened? She’d end up as one of those women who rang the police to report a murder that had not yet been committed. Someone who others thought of as mad or delusional or both.

  Climbing into bed, she curled into a tight ball willing herself not to dream again.

  * * *

  Finn McCloud had slept soundly. Six months ago he would have said he’d slept like a log. Now he’d never use that phrase again.

  He levered himself from the lower bunk he’d inhabited for the latter part of the night and made his way to the bathroom. The communal facilities in the hostel could not be described as luxurious but no shower had ever felt so good. His stiff muscles eased a little under the hot water. He inspected the wounds on his body, decided it was too risky to heal them here.

  Leaving the cubicle he caught sight of himself in the mirror above the row of wash basins. His eyes widened at the face staring back at him. Deep gashes on his forehead and his hands, bruises blackening on his sunlight starved skin, dark circles under his eyes. No wonder the night porter had needed some cold hard cash before he’d agree to let him in.

  Being in no way fastidious Finn was surprised, when he returned to the dorm, to find how much he didn’t want to put back on the torn, blood stained clothes he’d arrived in. As they were all he had, he pulled them on. Reluctantly, because it was one of his least favourite activities, he added shopping to his mental list of things that couldn’t be avoided today.

  Stepping out of the hostel into a grey overcast day, he smelt rain in the squally wind. His first stop was the chemist where he bought plasters and other essentials. Returning to the hostel, he patched up his wounds, shaved and yanked a comb through his hair.

  He had a tenner left. That should buy him breakfast. The cafe opposite the abbey provided him with a full English which he wolfed down like a man facing starvation. Sitting at the back of the room, facing away from the door, he read the paper while he drank his coffee. It was depressing how few things had changed in his absence. The world’s trouble spots were still troublesome. The same group of charlatans were still bungling running the country. The economy hadn’t improved and Finn knew from experience that had the knock-on effect of keeping environmental issues low on the government’s list of priorities.

  Which meant that a new job would be harder to come by. Add to that the fact that he’d gone AWOL from his last one. With good reason. Unfortunately not the kind of reason he could explain to a prospective employer. All in all it would make his search for employment interesting to say the least. But that was a problem for another day. He had – with only four days until Beltane - to deal with what was going down in Glastonbury before he could start to think about putting his life back together.

  He walked the length of the cafe to the counter to pay his bill. A guy with dreads, a baggy shirt and drooping trousers ambled from the kitchen and started fumbling with the till. Finn dropped his ten pound note on the counter and turned away, his eyes idly raking over a notice board on the opposite wall. Brightly coloured flyers and leaflets for alternative therapies, self-help workshops and tarot card readings covered it. No wonder Cat felt at home here. His sister was a sucker for all this crap.

  The words Anam Cara Healing Retreat caught his eye. Striding over he snatched the flyer from the wall. There was a picture of a garden together with promises of sanctuary, healing and transformation. He ripped the paper into two before his fist tightened crushing the pieces into a tight ball.

  “What do you think you’re doing, man?” the dreadlocked guy called, shambling from behind the counter.

  Finn dropped the screwed up paper onto a dirty plate. “Leaving,” he said.

  Chapter 4

  Zoe woke to a hangover. The headache had become a dull throb filling the left side of her cranium but she didn’t feel sick. One the other hand, she didn’t exactly feel ready for breakfast either. She yawned hugely. She’d not had nearly enough sleep. She’d heard the clock in the hall chime three before she’d slept and then, in the cold light of dawn, she’d been yanked awake by another dream.

  Gingerly she stood up. She only felt slightly worse when she was upright. Crossing the room, she tentatively opened the curtains. In the morning light the full devastation to the garden was apparent. The trunk of the Green Man’s tree had been cleft in two. Debris was everywhere. Branches and leaves scattered over the garden, crushing plants and filling up the pond.

  Taking her pad from the chest of drawers, Zoe flipped it open at her drawing of the garden and compared it again with the reality outside her window. The drawing remained the same. The realisation in the middle of the night that she could draw the future hadn’t been ano
ther dream.

  But what about the dream that had come with the dawn? With shaking fingers she turned the page. “Not again,” she whispered. Suddenly she did feel sick. Her eyes flicked upwards. There was no doubt.

  In the drawing the man stood in front of the tower on the Tor. It was night, the moon partly hidden by a cloud. He wore dark clothes - a fleece, walking trousers, boots, a beanie hat - and held binoculars. A small pack rested against the wall of the tower. His gaze was fixed in the distance. His jaw was tense, his eyes narrow.

  She looked up again. Traced with her artist’s eyes the shape of the Tor, the angle of the tower. It’s as if he’s looking down here. As if he’s watching me.

  Who the bloody hell are you? And why do I keep drawing you?

  Abruptly she spun away, hauled her rucksack from the floor to the chair and started tossing clothes into it. Then, hairbrush in hand, she stopped. She was finally making progress with King Arthur. If she went home and the block returned then she’d hate herself. It wasn’t like she didn’t have these strange dreams at home. For nearly a week before Halloween last year she’d had a nightmare every night.

  She put her hairbrush back on the chest of drawers and rummaged in her bag for some painkillers. She needed coffee and time to think before she made a decision.

  Half an hour later she wandered into the kitchen to find Tony sat at the table next to a middle aged woman. That must be Penny, Zoe thought, taking in her long steel grey hair. She wore shapeless clothes in earthy shades and no makeup. Tanya, looking slightly paler than usual in blue loungewear, stared out the French windows. Helena was in the kitchen, cutting up a grapefruit. She wore a grey t-shirt which matched the colour of her face.

  “Good day,” Helena said.

  “I’m not so sure.” Zoe’s hand massaged her temple. “You look about the way I feel.”

  “I had a real bad night. Woke up feeling like I’d never been to sleep.” Helena attempted to stifle a yawn. “How are you?”

  “Just a headache.” She took a seat at the table, poured coffee into a mug and considered whether toast was a good or bad idea. The others were talking about the thunder storm and the devastation in the garden.

  “Can lightning destroy a tree so completely?” Zoe said.

  “I’ve never seen anything as extreme, but it’s possible,” Tony said. “When the lightning strikes the electric current is carried by the water in the sapwood. That’s the wood immediately below that bark. The current heats the water and when it boils the pressure of the steam makes the tree explode.”

  “Why do you ask, dear?” Maeve’s distinctive voice came from behind Zoe. She whipped her head round wincing as her headache objected. Maeve stood in the kitchen, elegant in grey linen trousers and an ice blue cardigan.

  “I was just wondering,” Zoe mumbled.

  The healer walked over and took the empty chair at the head of the table. Helena stood behind her. “I do apologise for the disturbance last night. Naughty Persia brought a mouse home. I’m afraid I’m rather frightened of mice. Helena was very brave. She caught it and disposed of it. But it was total mayhem for a little while as she and Persia both tried to catch the mouse at the same time.” Maeve finished with a light laugh.

  The explanation sounded like a work of not particularly good fiction. Zoe blinked in surprise when the other guests nodded and smiled before asking Maeve how she felt this morning.

  “I’m fine. I’m simply sorry that I disturbed you all last night,” Maeve said. While the healer’s attention was on the other guests, Zoe looked directly at her. She intended to glance quickly away but found herself staring. Maeve looked older, visibly aged from when she’d seen her last, less than forty-eight hours before. A myriad of lines scored her face. Her skin sagged into pouches under her eyes and made jowls along her jaw line. Beneath her makeup her watery eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

  “As long as you’re alright now, that’s all that matters,” Penny said. “But Maeve, your garden! I nearly cried when I saw what had happened. All your hard work gone to waste. And just before Beltane too.”

  “It’s very sad but nature renews. I never forget that.” Maeve smiled. Turning to Tanya, she said, “My dear, I’d like to move our appointment to eleven.”

  “Oh yes, that’s fine. I am feeling a little fragile this morning. Entirely self-inflicted I’m afraid. I’m sure the healing will help.” Tanya rubbed her fingers over her forehead as she spoke.

  “Excellent. I’ll see you at eleven in the treatment rooms.” Maeve stood up and moved through to the kitchen. Helena followed. “Is that my breakfast? Helena, what did I say about grapefruit juice?”

  Helena mumbled something which Zoe didn’t catch. “No, I’ll get it!” Maeve snapped. Opening the fridge she fired instructions at her employee about organising the clean-up of the garden.

  Tanya turned to Zoe. “Your room overlooks the garden, doesn’t it?” When she nodded in response the other woman added, “Did you look out the window after the tree blew up?”

  “I did when I went back to my room after we’d all been out on my landing. Why do you ask?” Deciding to risk a slice of toast Zoe buttered it as she spoke.

  “I was wondering if you saw anyone in the garden.”

  Zoe looked at her in surprise. Had Tanya seen the man from her picture?

  “What did you say?” Holding a carton of juice, Maeve walked swiftly over and stood next to Tanya’s chair, staring down at her. Helena followed, hovering uncertainly behind her employer.

  “It’s probably nothing.” Tanya already appeared less certain. “I’d not been back long and I was getting ready for bed when I heard the tree explode. I looked out of the window and I thought I saw someone moving about outside.”

  “Are you sure, dear? It was very dark. And none of us were outside, were we?” Maeve looked around the table. In turn Penny, Tony and Helena shook their heads. When Maeve turned to her, Zoe channelled her inner teenager and shrugged insolently.

  “You see, we were all tucked up in our beds. There couldn’t have been anyone in the garden.” Maeve’s tone was calmly reasonable as if she spoke to a misbehaving child.

  “I must have got it wrong. To be honest, I’d had a fair bit to drink last night so I could easily have imagined it,” Tanya said with a little laugh.

  Maeve smiled condescendingly. “That’s right dear. Well, I really must get on.” She walked briskly through the kitchen, dumping the carton on the worktop as she passed. “Helena, I asked you to bring my breakfast to the office.” Zoe watched for a reaction from the Australian, a look or a gesture to indicate she felt put upon by her employer. But Helena simply poured juice into a glass and then carried the tray out of the door.

  Frowning, Zoe looked around the table at her fellow guests. Tony was topping up his and Penny’s coffee cups from a cafetiere. Tanya was half way down a bowl of muesli. They all appeared oblivious to Maeve’s rudeness. Just as they’d apparently accepted her explanation about the disturbance in the night.

  Penny smiled at Tanya. “What kind of healing are you having?”

  “Karmic wave therapy. Maeve says it’s amazing and heals on lots of different levels. You know, emotionally and spiritually as well as physically,” Tanya said.

  “I had it last time I was here,” Penny said. “It is a deep form of healing but for me, at least, that came at a price. I had the worst healing crisis I’ve ever experienced.”

  “What’s a healing crisis?” Tanya’s forehead creased with lines.

  “It means that you feel worse before you feel better. It’s to do with the way in which your body eliminates toxins after healing. I do massage and reflexology and I tell my clients that they might feel a bit lethargic or have a headache the day after the healing. If it went on any longer than that I don’t think any of them would come back.” Penny smiled. “You’ll need to be extra careful as you were drinking last night. To be honest, I’m surprised Maeve didn’t reschedule your appointment. I’d have thought she’d want
to wait until this afternoon, at least, to give you time to rehydrate.”

  “Maeve told me I might feel tired the day after but said it was part of the healing process and nothing to worry about,” Tanya said.

  “Penny was under the weather for a week after she had karmic wave healing when we were here last year.” Tony’s arm rose to rest on the back of his wife’s chair. “I’ve told her that I don’t think she should have it again. It may have done her good in the end but I don’t think it was worth feeling that bad to get there.”

  “Yes, I know.” Penny gave her husband a fond but slightly exasperated look. “But I think I had a bit of an extreme reaction. I was run down at the time so that might be why. And it was Beltane so that could have made it more intense.”

  “What’s Beltane?” Zoe asked.

  “Beltane’s the first of May and it’s one of the most sacred times of the year,” Penny said. “It marks the start of spring and is a fertility rite. Maeve usually has a ceremony to celebrate. It’s a wonderfully positive evening with drumming, chanting and dancing. Very transformational. We all bring an item to signify what we want to change in our lives in the coming season and throw that into the ceremonial fire.”

  “That sounds very...erm...interesting,” Zoe said.

  “Beltane’s a really important time of the year for pagans,” Penny said. “It was the ancient Celts’ festival of fire to welcome the spring. Druids kindled fires on the tops of hills which were believed to have fertility and healing powers. We’ve been coming to Maeve’s Beltane ceremonies for the past five years. It’s such a shame she’s not celebrating it this year. We’re getting together with a group of other pagans in Avebury on Thursday but it won’t be the same.”

  Surprised by Penny’s casual admittance that she and Tony were practising pagans, Zoe couldn’t stop her overactive imagination from painting a picture of witches dancing naked around a ritual fire.