Miss Mary's Book of Dreams

by Sophie Nicholls

  Selena LaSalle leaned in the kitchen doorway. After the countless times that Ella had seen her in her mind’s eye over the past months, she could hardly believe that she was here in Miss Mary’s garden. Had her mind conjured her out of the mist? Had she fallen asleep against the wall and was dreaming? Her mind raced, forwards and then backwards again. How could Selena have got here? There hadn’t been another car in the lane. And, more to the point, why was she here? What could she want with this place?

  ‘It’s Ella,’ she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. ‘It’s Ella. And I remember your name. You’re Selena.’ She zipped her parka higher around her neck. Her hands were trembling. Selena, she noticed, was wrapped in a soft, black wool coat. Expensive-looking. Cashmere, no doubt.

  ‘I saw you from the upstairs window.’ Selena’s smile was forced. The tiny diamond studs in her ears twinkled as she moved her head. ‘I thought it was you. A rather odd place to bump into one another, don’t you think?’

  Ella felt her heart pounding in that place just under her ribs. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, her fingernails digging into her palms.

  ‘Yes, I’m only here because a friend of mine wanted to come. A friend and . . . and my great-grandmother, actually. They’re both interested in the woman that’s supposed to have lived here once, long ago. We stock her book in the shop. Well, that is, when we can get hold of it. It’s very rare . . .’ Why was she babbling like this?

  ‘Really? How extraordinary.’ Selena’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Her hair was scraped back from her face and caught in a glossy ponytail. Ella saw the perfect symmetry of her features, the high cheekbones, the long, straight nose.

  Behind her, a man in jeans and a waterproof jacket appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a clipboard and pen.

  ‘Oh.’ Selena turned. ‘This is Daniel, one of my research assistants.’ She patted him on the arm, proprietorially. ‘Dan, this is Ella, Bill Vickers’s wife. She’s here to investigate Miss Mary, too. I was just saying how . . . how utterly serendipitous that is.’

  There it was again, the quick, tight smile. The thin lips curling back. She’s not actually beautiful at all, Ella thought. There’s a hardness about her. Something almost impenetrable. Could Billy really be drawn to this kind of woman?

  Dan, she noticed, was shifting from one foot to the other. He looked embarrassed. Uneasy. Why would that be? What did he know?

  ‘Good to meet you.’ He gave her a perfunctory nod and then immediately shrank back into the dark kitchen. ‘I’ve finished the inventory,’ she heard him say. ‘So we can be off now. That is, if you’re ready?’

  Selena squinted into the field. ‘Those are your friends, then, over there?’ She pointed. ‘What are they doing? Must be awfully . . . damp in that field.’ She laughed, a high, forced laugh, and Ella saw Bryony turn and look back in their direction. Ella raised her hand and waved at her again, more urgently this time.

  ‘Looking for plants,’ she said. ‘You know. Herbs. The kind of thing Miss Mary writes about in her book.’

  ‘Ah. The Book of Dreams.’ Selena nodded. ‘Fascinating. Dan here’s preparing his thesis on women and witchcraft in the sixteenth century. From a sociological point of view, of course. I said I’d tag along. Lend a hand if I could.’ She smiled again. ‘But really, I told him that it’s more your husband’s area of expertise.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ella’s fingers found a stray piece of thread in the lining of her pocket and tugged at it. ‘Yes, but it’s just one of his side interests, really. You know how Billy is. Interested in everything.’

  ‘Really? Is that so?’ Selena raised an eyebrow again. Ella felt herself stiffen. What was this woman implying? That she didn’t know her own husband. ‘Well, we’d better be off.’ Selena nodded at the two figures now making their way towards them across the field. ‘Absolutely lovely to see you again.’

  Ella listened to the sound of Selena’s high-heeled boots clicking around the side of the house and then an engine starting, higher up the lane. That was why they hadn’t seen the car, of course. They must have parked it on the other side of the bend.

  ‘Who was that?’ Maadar-Bozorg lifted up the soggy hems of her trousers to negotiate the broken fence.

  ‘That colleague of Billy’s, would you believe.’ Ella fiddled with her zip again and pulled her hat down over her ears. ‘You know. The one that . . . the one I –’

  Maadar-Bozorg brushed the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Her fingers were speckled with mud. ‘Goodness. What was she doing here? How very strange.’

  ‘Some kind of research project, apparently.’ Ella hugged herself. The damp had begun to seep through her cotton parka. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I need to go now. I can’t get warm. Think I might be coming down with something.’

  She turned and began to kick her way through the rotten apples. She didn’t notice Maadar-Bozorg’s green eyes flashing as she pulled her woollen shawl around herself or that Bryony’s face was white with shock.

  *

  ‘So what she says here is to pass an egg over the person’s body and let the person who is being cleansed of illness breathe onto it, then take the egg and break it on the ground outside.’

  Bryony pointed to a paragraph in The Book of Dreams. ‘Was that a standard cleansing spell, do you think, or particular to Miss Mary?’

  Maadar-Bozorg’s eyes twinkled. ‘I’ve used that one many times myself.’ She peered at the page. ‘In our family, we always found it helpful for children’s minor illnesses – you know, tummy ache and so on. Of course, it’s vital to check first that there isn’t actually something seriously wrong with them. But when the child really believes that the egg has absorbed all of the bad feeling, they begin to feel much better. The incredible power of the mind.’ She tapped at her temple. ‘The greatest magic of all.’

  Bryony nodded. ‘Speaking of which,’ she said.

  She took a step back from the table. She could feel her heart thudding in her ears. This was the moment she’d rehearsed a thousand times inside her own mind. The moment when she’d finally tell someone. And she’d decided that Ella’s great-grandmother was the right person to tell. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Mrs Jobrani –’

  ‘Zohreh. Please. I can’t stand all these English formalities.’

  ‘Sorry. Sorry, Zohreh. It’s just that there’s something that I want you to know. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that I have to tell someone. I feel awful. It’s this horrible secret and it’s making me feel so guilty. Especially because you’ve all been so incredibly kind to me.’

  Maadar-Bozorg put her head on one side and Bryony saw her eyes glitter.

  ‘Go on, child.’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t know where to start. I’m afraid that you’re all going to hate me.’

  Maadar-Bozorg smiled. ‘Well, these things are usually much worse in your imagination than they ever are in reality, don’t you think?’

  Bryony nodded. ‘That’s true. I really do know all about that.’

  Maadar-Bozorg’s eyes burned into hers. ‘Yes, child,’ she said. ‘I imagine you do.’

  She knows, thought Bryony. It’s like she can see right into me. But not like Selena. She isn’t trying to get inside my thoughts, change my mind, control me. It’s a quieter thing. She just seems to look and understand. It feels almost like someone putting their arms around you.

  She took another breath.

  ‘Well, it’s about my sister. Her name is Selena.’

  She saw Maadar’s eyes flicker.

  ‘Yes. Yes, go on.’

  ‘Well, as you know, Selena works with Billy. Of course, I didn’t realise this when I first came to the shop. And I’ve never mentioned it to Ella. But slowly I started to piece it all together . . . from little things that Ella said. And, you see, Selena has always been . . . well, shall we say that she’s very determined. Ruthless. When she makes up her mind about som
ething, she usually just goes for it. She’s used to getting what she wants. Especially when it comes to men.’

  Maadar-Bozorg’s face gave nothing away.

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Well, she never keeps them. The men, I mean. She loses interest, usually. But she’s got a thing about men who . . . well, belong to someone else. Married men. Men in relationships. It’s like a challenge to her. It’s all about winning. She’s always been like that. About everything. We’re not close, my sister and I, but from the little things that I’ve picked up on, the things she’s let slip, I’m terribly worried that she’s got her eye on Billy.’

  Maadar-Bozorg nodded. ‘I see. Well, that makes perfect sense.’

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Yes, child, it does. But, you know, none of this is any of your concern.’

  Bryony frowned. ‘But of course it is. She’s my sister. And I’m so incredibly embarrassed. And worried. I’m . . . I’m very fond of Ella, you see. And little Grace. I couldn’t bear for anything to happen that would hurt them.’

  ‘Ah, and you think that you have control over all that, child?’

  ‘Well, I think that perhaps it’s dishonest of me not to say anything. I mean, I haven’t even told Ella that my sister works with Billy. The truth is –’ She bit her lip. ‘I suppose I’m a bit ashamed of Selena. She’s my sister, but I don’t really even like her. I don’t particularly like people knowing that I’m related to her in any way. She’s so . . . Well, she just has tunnel vision. And she doesn’t listen to me, of course. In fact, she thinks I’m completely mad. Properly bonkers.’

  ‘And do you think that too?’

  The air in the room seemed to tremble for a moment. Bryony looked down at her hands. She could feel Maadar-Bozorg’s eyes on hers.

  ‘I used to. I really did. I’ve had treatment. I even spent some time in hospital. When . . . when my father decided that I really wasn’t coping. I see a therapist. At least, I did. Until very recently. Of course, I haven’t told him about all of this.’ She gestured to the book on the table. ‘I think he’d probably be horrified. He wouldn’t understand, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re mad at all. I know exactly what it feels like. To have your gifts made fun of. To be disbelieved.’

  Maadar’s eyes flashed. Bryony shifted from one foot to the other. She wasn’t used to people looking right at her like this. Most people didn’t seem to pay any attention to what she was thinking or saying.

  ‘And another thing,’ Maadar said. ‘I don’t think you’re in any way responsible for anything that might or might not happen between Billy and your sister.’

  ‘Really?’ Bryony’s fingers pleated the corduroy fabric of her skirt.

  ‘Really.’ Maadar smiled again.

  ‘Because, you know, I’ve lain awake at night wondering if I should tell Ella. And then I think, but what would I say, exactly? It’s not as if I know anything conclusive. And then I’d just be making it worse, wouldn’t I? I think it would break her heart. Or sometimes I think that perhaps I should take Billy to one side and warn him. Tell him what Selena can be like. But that might make him furious. I mean, he might be terribly offended. He seems like a nice man. It really all depends on whether . . . well, on whether . . .’

  She flushed.

  ‘On whether he really is up to no good with your sister?’ Maadar chuckled. ‘Oh, my dear. What a frightful situation for you to be in. What an awful secret you’ve been carrying around. Now, tell me. Do you feel a little lighter, now that you’ve confided in me?’

  Bryony looked into Maadar’s eyes again, those glittering green eyes that were so like Fabia’s. She felt something reaching towards her, colours so vibrant that she could almost reach out and touch them, floating around her head and shoulders, folding her round in a shimmering cloud.

  She felt the tension in her neck and arms soften a little.

  ‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘But I also feel as if I’ve failed somehow. As if I’ve let you all down. I feel that I really should do something. To protect you all. You’re my friends. You’ve all been so kind to me.’

  Maadar-Bozorg smiled. ‘Well, what do you think your Miss Mary would do in a situation like this?’

  What a funny question, Bryony thought. But then she realised that she already knew the answer.

  ‘I think . . .’ she began. ‘Yes, I think she’d probably keep her own counsel. She’d say nothing, but secretly, she’d make some kind of spell, of course. Devise some ritual or other. Invoke some kind of dream magic. You know, to help things along a little.’

  Maadar-Bozorg smiled again. ‘I agree. That’s exactly what she’d do. But you know, even with all the magic in the world, in the end, only Billy can actually decide what happens next. Well, Billy and Ella, of course. Your sister really doesn’t have much to do with it.’

  ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘No. Not if Billy and Ella don’t allow her to come between them.’

  Bryony felt Maadar-Bozorg’s hand reach for hers.

  ‘And you, my dear, must stop carrying the woes of others around in your pocket. There’s nothing you can do except to be a true friend to Ella. Which, of course, you already are. I think, in fact, that you have enough worries of your own. Isn’t that true?’

  Bryony pulled her hand away. ‘I-I –’ She felt her body start to shake. The room swirled around her. She grabbed the edge of the table. Maadar’s face disappeared for a moment. ‘I’m sorry. I –’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean to upset you, child.’ Maadar’s eyes searched hers. Again, Bryony had that uncomfortable feeling that Maadar could see right inside her. ‘But if you don’t mind me saying, my dear, that fellow, the one who came to find you, the night of Ella’s party . . . well, he really doesn’t deserve you.’

  Bryony felt the tears start to wet her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to think about Ed. Not now. She tried to push back her chair. But Maadar was pulling her close, stroking her hair.

  ‘There, there. That’s right. Get it all out. It’s hard when someone says it out loud, isn’t it? The thing we don’t want to hear. But this is something you can change, no? You have friends. People who respect you and care about you. Don’t be afraid, child. You’ll see. It will all work out.’

  23

  To remember your dreams: Take a cup of water from the high spring at Rosedale and put it outside under the moon for one full night. On the next day, keep the cup covered in a dark, cool place. When you go to bed, drink from the cup but leave a little of the moonwater aside. On waking, drink the remainder and you will remember everything you saw when sleeping.

  – Miss Mary’s Book of Dreams

  The moon fell in a perfect crescent through the open bedroom window and across the polished floorboards as Zohreh Jobrani assembled her collection of objects.

  She arranged them along the arc of reflected moonlight, just as her sister, Mahdokht, had once shown her. First, she lay down the single glossy hair that she’d plucked from Bryony’s coat collar. Next to it, she placed the half-eaten apple, left by Billy on the breakfast table that morning. Next to this, she smoothed out the scribbled note in Ella’s flowing handwriting that she’d salvaged from the pile of receipts and bills on the old tea chest in Ella and Billy’s hallway: Billy – Dinner in fridge. Love El x

  Finally, at the very end of the arc, she coiled the piece of red embroidery cotton that she’d taken from Farah’s jar of saved thread ends.

  As she laid each of these objects in its place, she thought of the person to whom it belonged. She stilled her mind and breathed deeply.

  Here was Bryony, her sweet, soft face furrowed in concentration, holding Miss Mary’s book open, mouthing the words as she read. Zohreh felt Bryony’s fears for the future and her lack of confidence in herself pass through her own body like a grey-green mist.

  She saw Billy, dangling Grace upside down in his arms, heard their loud laughter, felt his worries about bei
ng a good-enough father, his fears about being a good husband, rippling through her, restless as river water.

  Next, she saw Ella bent over her laptop, her brow creased, her eyes half closed, felt her frustration at the words that wouldn’t come, her rising panic about Billy and Selena, the big, black gap that opened up inside her.

  She saw Farah, her beloved Farah, sitting sewing behind the shop counter, working her tiny stitches to mend whatever she could. She felt Farah’s loneliness, the sadness that she kept buried like faded brown leaves and her fear that it might be too late to weave a new life for herself and those she loved.

  Zohreh sat back on her heels and took another deep breath, taking the cold night air deep into her lungs, lifting her face to the moonlight. She thought of her sisters, Mahdokht and Talayeh, sitting in the salon of the family house in Tehran. They had each passed over now, years ago. It was much too long since they’d sat together under the light of a waxing moon, swirling hot coffee around jewel-coloured glasses. She wondered what they would do. This was more their kind of thing, after all. She had always stuck to telling stories. But tonight she needed the magic to be particularly strong. She was going to use every trick she knew.

  She thought of Miss Mary in that little house nestled in the foot of the hills. She let her mind drift for a moment, out over the rooftops, past the edges of the city to where the fields and moors began. She travelled up the narrow, winding lanes, between the bare hedgerows, to Miss Mary’s garden gate and saw her standing at her kitchen door, a wool shawl not unlike her own wrapped tightly around her shoulders, the hem of her long skirts fringed with mud as she beckoned her into the dark kitchen, where a pot simmered on the hearth.

  What handful of healing herbs would she prescribe? What words would she mutter as she stirred the pot with her blackened metal spoon, three times, anticlockwise? Zohreh turned the pages of the Book of Dreams in her mind.

  She reached into the cloth bag at her side and pulled out a pigeon’s feather that she’d taken from the courtyard this morning. She laid it in the centre of the half-circle she’d made on the floor. Next, she added the tin bird ornament that Farah had hung above Grace’s bed. Beautiful work, she noted. Made by Farah’s friend in San Diego. It had good, clean energy. Made with love. It would help.