Over the next couple of weeks I made it my business to find out as much as I could about Jem Masterson. Don’t get me wrong, I don't approve of encouraging a boy to cheat on his girlfriend I was just intrigued by him - or at least that’s what I told myself at the time.
I wanted to believe I was doing it just in case ‘it’s complicated’ turned into ‘single’ at any point in the future. I knew I wouldn’t actually be able to do much about it even if it did; I just wanted to find out if we might be compatible in any way whatsoever. That was my excuse.
So Jem Masterson the lowdown. He was certainly someone who split opinion, though the one thing everybody agreed on was that he was liable to mood swings. Well I knew all about those. He’d only recently returned to the family home in Baring after attending a series of posh private schools abroad.
Rumor had it that he was expelled from his last school. I knew all about that one too. I couldn’t find out anything at all about his father, though evidently I should have heard of his mother, since she was supposed to be a wealthy writer of best-sellers called Circe Masterson. Millie told me she did some series called Blood and the Ring a couple of which were made into movies, or video games, or what have you. I think Rebekah read one of them once though I’m not certain.
Their home was a massive country estate called Draxton Manor surrounded by a huge wall. Nobody I spoke to had ever been there, and apparently Circe preferred travelling to and fro in her helicopter instead of going by road like the rest of us plebs. I felt seriously intimidated.
Jayne Carter was a different issue altogether; she lived in a council house on a quite rough estate in Ringburg. It seemed from what I could gather that her attitude was all a bit of a front, she worked nights in a café to help her family out with money, and quite often looked after her younger brother who had Downs syndrome. That didn’t fit my picture at all. I didn’t want to sympathize with her, I wanted to despise her.
I got my chance when I stepped off the college bus one evening to be faced with the sight of Jayne standing on one of the tables outside the Handmaid’s Arms. She was involved in some sort of drinking game though I couldn’t make out the details.
A cheer went up and she jumped down to collect her jacket from one of the young men who slung his arm around her shoulders and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek. I was just wondering what Jem would think if he’d seen it, when I realized he had. He was walking towards me along the opposite side of the narrow road; we would pass within feet of one other. He couldn’t fail to notice me. Except of course he could, he did.
He walked right past without so much as a glance in my direction; I might have been completely invisible for all the reaction he gave me. I turned, color rising in my cheeks at the snub, and watched him walk away from me and into the pub garden.
He took the time to slap various backs, lifted Jayne back onto the table and passed her another drink. Raucous laughter floated across the pub garden and out to where I stood, feeling utterly humiliated. The poor little rich boy could play his silly games; I had a life to get on with.
It was absurd, I’d absolutely no right to feel betrayed by someone I’d barely spoken to, and certainly wasn’t dating. All the same I still couldn’t make myself feel better about the incident in the road. I was snappy with Rebekah at dinner and moped off up to take a shower while she settled down in front of her computer to write up some case notes.
I shut the door to the bathroom; pushed aside the clammy, mildewed, shower curtain, turned the mixer tap full on, listened as air thumped its way through the rattling pipes, and then threw off my clothes as a thin trickle of lukewarm water finally emerged from the shower head.
I was fast discovering that although the British once had an empire that ruled three quarters of the world, they couldn’t do pluming for toffee. I was about to climb into the tub when I noticed that I was still wearing the Nazar necklace Shanty had given me. I wasn’t even slightly impressed with the good fortune it had brought me so far, so swinging it over my head I laid it on the edge of the sink, and jumped under the pathetically weak shower.
That night was the second time I had the dream about the eye. I was running again, though this time it was through thick woods in pitch darkness.
There were flashes of the same huge eye – much the same as before. Only now it was twitching, blinking, and searching for me. The emaciated man in the wheelchair from the Lodge was gripping my arm and rocking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards repeating “THE BLOOD! THE BLOOD!”
A scratching, grating sound, made me try to block my ears as a crow appeared flying towards me beating its wings frantically, its talons bared.
Just as it was about to reach me it was struck from the sky by a screeching owl which came diving down out of the darkness. I woke with a start and sat bolt upright in my bed trying to calm the beating of my heart.
I was awake but I could still hear the noise from the dream. There it was again! The same scratching, swishing, and scraping sound I’d heard in my nightmare.
I looked over to where the sound was coming from, terrified that I would be confronted with the eye once more. Instead I saw that the branch of a tree was scraping to and fro across the window pane.
It must be the wind I thought as I pushed back the bedcovers, crossed the room and threw open the window. I immediately regretted the flannel Onesie sleep-suit I’d slung on after my bath because standing in the garden holding the end of a long thin branch against the window was Jem Masterson.
It was bitterly cold outside and in spite of the long thick cardigan I’d wrapped around me before tiptoeing downstairs I gave an involuntary shiver as I stepped out into night air. I had no intention of letting Jem try to charm me; I wasn’t interested in whatever lame excuses he had to offer. I was going to give him a piece of my mind, and then go straight back to bed.
Unfortunately for my plan he’d vanished, and the garden looked completely empty. I’d just begun to wonder if the whole thing wasn’t part of my bad dream, and I was actually still fast asleep in bed, when I noticed a flickering light and heard a faint crackling sound.
Jem was squatting by an open fire feeding twigs into the flames at the end of the garden close to the fence. He dragged a log from the bushes and seeing me approach gestured for to me to sit next to him.
I shook my head and remained standing. I certainly wasn’t going to meekly do what he wanted me to, though I realized after a moment that it was too cold to stay where I was.
I compromised by walking back up the path, and then returning with one of the folding wooden chairs from the lawn. Deliberately placing it on the opposite side of the fire, as far away from Jem as possible whilst still being near enough to benefit from the warmth being radiated by the burning branches on the fire, I sat down, crossed my arms and frowned at him.
We sat there in silence looking at one another for what seemed like an age. Was it the heat from the flames or were my cheeks flushing red? I broke eye contact and looked up at the night sky. It was incredibly clear, and the stars looked enormous. I didn’t think I’d ever seen so many in the sky all at the same time.
“You see that star? he was pointing upwards, “the one on the horizon? It’s the planet Venus, named for the Roman goddess of love and beauty.”
I picked up a stick which was lying at my feet and threw it into the fire, watching it flare and ignite. I was determined not to answer him and least of all to be the first to mention what had happened the previous day.
“Why did you cut me dead yesterday?” I demanded curtly. So much for good intentions.
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking genuinely confused, he was obviously a skillful actor.
“Don’t bother pretending not to know.” I said, throwing him a clue, “outside the Handmaid’s Arms.”“
“I didn’t” he replied emphatically, “It wasn’t…
He stopped suddenly mid-sentence.
“Wasn’t what? You wa
lked right past me.”
Jem twisted on his seat, he looked horribly embarrassed. “It’s difficult to explain” he murmured almost too quietly for me to hear, “I don’t know if I should….I don’t know you well enough yet to…”
This was pathetic, he couldn’t even apologize properly. I stood up and turned towards the house. Jem scrambled to his feet.
“Sometimes, I’m not myself!” He blurted the words out in a rush then slowed as I stopped in my tracks, “literally not myself. Can you understand that?”
It was probably the one thing that I could understand, the only thing he could have said that could have made me stay. I knew all about not being myself. Wyrd bið ful aræd, the threads were being spun.
Even so I didn’t reply right away. Instead I sat back down on the garden chair, and put my hands out to warm them at the fire. There was another long, slightly awkward, pause before Jem spoke again. He had a vulnerable look to him, as he sat hunched on the log like an overgrown child; it was a complete contrast to the arrogance he’d projected when I first saw him.
“So,” he said, “you made a deal with the sea-witch and now you can walk on land? I guess that explains why you’re not talking. She’s got your voice.”
I couldn’t resist smiling at that one.
“How is that for you? Being here, on land?”
“Not so good,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“Haven’t you ever read the original story?”
Jem shook his head. I yawned before continuing, it was late and I was still not fully awake.
“Whenever the Little Mermaid walks on land her feet feel like she’s treading on sharp swords, hard enough to make them bleed.”
“Wow! A lot of those old faery tales are darker than you expect them to be.”
“They’re like life.”
He looked into the flames and considered this. “There’s this saying I found on the internet that I like a lot. Reality is too obvious to be true. I feel the opposite way round about stories, they often seem more real to me life. Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could just escape into a story?”
“I do,” I said, “every time I read one. Though it depends which one you mean. Like you said, a lot of stories can be pretty dark. Isn’t that what your mother does, write books? What sort of stuff does she write?”
Jem pulled a face. “I don’t know, I’ve never read one.”
“You’ve never read one of your own mother’s books?” I didn’t see how it could be possible.
“We don’t get on.” He picked up a stick and began poking at the base of the fire.
“I’ve barely seen her for the past ten years. She doesn’t really do parenting. I’ve been in boarding schools during term time then in summer camps, or the villa on Cap d’Antibes, the chalet in Klosters. It’s surprising how infrequently you need to see your children when you have a few million pounds, and how easy it is to get used to spending time in the company of housekeepers, and servants.”
“What about your father, where’s he?”
Jem’s brows tightened into a frown. Tossing the smoldering stick into the heart of the flames, he wiped ash from his hands onto his jeans and pursed his lips before answering.
“Good question,” he looked over at me, brushing a lock of hair away from his face with the back of his hand and leaving a smear of ash on his cheek. I had an almost irresistible urge to get a hankie, lick it and wipe away the mark, despite the fact that I’d always hated it whenever dad did that to me.
“Are you happy Thea?”
It was the first time he’d used my name. I liked the way it sounded coming from his mouth.
“So you know who I really am then?” I joked.
“I know all about you,” he answered seriously, giving a shy smile. “I’ve spent the last two weeks quizzing everybody I know to dish me all the gossip.”
I laughed. “Snap!”
He seemed surprised, “really? I had the impression you didn’t like me much.”
“There’s a difference between liking and trusting.”
He nodded his head thoughtfully, as if I’d said something profound. “I thin I could like you a lot.”
“What about Jayne?” I countered, trying not to show how pleased I was to hear him say it.
“I told you already, we’re not together. Things aren’t how they look from the outside. I wish you could trust me. Can you try to, do you think?”
I looked away, I wasn’t going to let him hypnotize me with that puppy dog expression on his face.
“It’s too early to say.” I glanced back, he looked so miserable I immediately had to add something else. “I don’t see why we can’t be friends though if you want to. Maybe I’ll learn to trust you.”
A broad smile, almost as bright as the flames from the fire, illuminated his face.
“I hope so,” the smile faded, “though I suppose it’s difficult to trust someone whose personality changes all the time.”
I was on the verge of telling him about my own problems with that particular issue, when he distracted me.
“You must miss New York.”
I hadn’t thought much about the city of my birth for a while. I did miss it in some ways. I guess Rebekah was right being in Baring had made me forget about my life in the Big Apple.
“I wish I could go there myself.” The intensity of feeling behind his words drew me back to the present.
“Why don’t you then? I asked, he shook his head impatiently. “It can’t be the money.” The words were out before I had time to consider them properly, a pained expression passed across his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…..”
“It’s OK. You’re right. It’s not because I couldn’t afford to,” he sounded bitter, “I just can’t. I’m stuck here in this dump for the time being, whether I want to be or not.”
I suddenly felt deeply offended. For some inexplicable reason I wanted him to like Baring and the Forest as much as I did. “Well, nobody’s keeping you here” I announced brusquely, getting to my feet, “in fact I don’t think anybody invited you in the first place.”
The vulnerable Jem I’d seen earlier was gone in a flash, now he seemed cold, formal, and distant.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you” he said coldly, I’ll let you get back to bed… I just thought…” He left the sentence hanging, shrugged his shoulders and then stepped into the darkness.
“Wait!” I couldn’t stop myself from calling after him. He turned to face me, waiting for me to speak. “What were you going to say?” I asked him, “just then?”
Standing there with the glow from the fire faintly illuminating his face he was so beautiful it almost took my breath away.
“I was going to say that I thought you might be someone I could trust myself. It isn’t the easiest thing for me to do. There was, there is a…a quality about you, I can’t explain it. I noticed it the first time I saw you in the forest. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
As we stood gazing at one another, in the flickering light both of us knew that something was happening between us. A connection was forming whether we wanted it to or not.
“You’re not the only person in the world who suffers from mood swings you know.” I tried to say it teasingly needing to break the tension somehow.
Crossing around the fire, I sat down on the log, and copying his earlier gesture indicated shyly that he should sit next to me. For a moment I thought he might refuse. Instead he sank down next to me. We sat together contemplating the flames, shoulder to shoulder barely touching, but all too aware of the feeling of our bodies side by side.
Eventually I started to talk about dad. I let it all out, the pain, the regret, the blame I felt, and finally my breakdown. Jem listened patiently without interrupting. It was only when I’d finished that I realized his hand had been resting on top of mine through most of the story. I lifted it away, under the pretense of getting another branch for the fire which was dying now
; the ruddy glow of the embers had been joined by a reddish tint in the sky as dawn began to break. Jem seemed pensive.
“Do you think it’s right to protect someone you care about no matter what?”
“If you love them, yes of course I do.”
“Even someone who doesn’t deserve it?
I thought about it for a moment. “You’d still have to wouldn’t you? Whether they deserved it or not. If you loved them?”
“That’s how I see it too.” Resting his elbows on his knees he leaned forwards staring into the dying glow of the fire as if it might contain the answer to some question which was troubling him. He reached out and took my hand in his. “I’ve got something I want to tell you.”
“Thea!” Rebekah’s voice echoed through the garden. I ducked down so that I was almost flat on the damp grass, and gestured urgently at Jem to do the same. She was leaning out of the open bedroom window; I could just make out her silhouette.
“Are you out there?”
“Jem!” I whispered, our faces almost touching as we lay on the ground,
“you have to get out of here!”
He grinned and whispered back “OK!” But instead of leaving he squirmed forwards crossing the couple of inches that separated us and quickly kissed me on the lips. I practically jumped to my feet with surprise.
“Sorry Ariel. I couldn’t resist. I’ve been hearing Sebastian singing to me for the past ten minutes!”
With that he scrambled backwards until he was close to the bushes and ducked into them, vanishing like a stage magician.
I ran it over in my head. “Sebastian? Oh, yeah… Kiss de girl. What a cheek!”
“Thea!” I could hear from the tone of her voice that Rebekah was getting really worried now.
“I’m here!” I shouted, struggling up to my feet, the front of my sweater soggy with dew.
By the time I got to the backdoor Rebekah was there waiting for me. Wrapped in her pink flannelette dressing gown with her hair all mussed up with sleep she looked much younger.
“What are you doing out of bed this late, are you alright?
I’m fine. I just had a nightmare, needed some fresh air.”
“I went to the bathroom and saw your door was wide open. I was worried TT. I didn’t know where you were! What were you doing out there?”
I considered how to answer; the closest thing to the truth seemed the best idea. “I thought I’d make a bonfire and look at the stars.” Rebekah drew me into a hug, she was warm as toast.
“Sweetheart, are you still making sure you take your medication every day?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Of course I am, don’t worry.”
She put two fingers under my chin and lifted it so that she could look directly into my eyes. “Are you sure everything is alright?”
I gave her a peck on the cheek and smiled. “Yeah, as a matter of fact everything’s just fine.”
Beltane Page 8
