Secrets of the Mist

by Kate Ryder

  I hesitated.

  ‘I will furnish you with a receipt,’ continued the professor. ‘If they are what I think they are, well… they are a marvellous find.’

  I was racked with indecision. This visit had not produced the answers I’d hoped for. I wanted to discover more about the jewellery, but did I want to leave these precious objects with this man?

  ‘Do you know what metal they are?’ I asked, stalling for time.

  ‘Oh, I should say the ring is enamelled gold and, if I’m not mistaken, the stone is ruby.’

  I stared at the contents of the wooden casket in astonishment. ‘Ruby! I thought it was a piece of coloured glass.’

  ‘Ah, just you wait.’ Professor Stephens grinned at me. ‘Philip is one of the best restorers I know. He has a very sympathetic touch. Then you will see what a beautiful piece it is. The pendant, on the other hand, is not gold.’

  Dan, no longer sulking and having seemingly forgiven my earlier harsh outburst, was once more intrigued. ‘Can you date them precisely?’

  The professor smiled at Dan in such a way that it suddenly occurred to me he might swing the other way, which would explain his bachelorhood.

  ‘Well, dear boy, the heart became a very popular design during the seventeenth century. If the ring is what I think it is, that would date it to around the same time. I would say the early to middle sixteen hundreds.’

  I shivered. Someone had just tiptoed upon my grave.

  ‘Mads, you’ve got to let the specialist look at these,’ Dan said, enthusiastically.

  I looked from one man to the other: the older fired up by a love of antiquity; the younger excited by the mystery of the unknown. Reluctantly, I agreed.

  Professor Stephens wrote out a receipt and handed it to me. ‘I should think it will be another couple of weeks before I have some answers for you.’

  I looked at the wooden casket on the table – still unwilling to leave it – and then followed the men down the hallway to the front door. We thanked the professor for tea and headed down the steps towards the car, the deep gravel crunching beneath our feet. Dan paused to look through the darkened glass windows of the Porsche.

  ‘Next time you visit, dear boy, I will take you for a spin,’ promised the professor.

  I looked over at Dan and raised an eyebrow. Uncharacteristically, he blushed. The professor’s interest in him had obviously not gone unnoticed.

  *

  That evening I was agitated and couldn’t settle, fretting that the jewellery was no longer in my possession. Amused by my agitation, Dan asked why it meant so much to me.

  ‘I don’t know. It just does.’ I didn’t want to discuss it.

  He lay on the sofa with Storm draped across his chest. The cat, totally relaxed, purred contentedly as Dan stroked him. Storm was so nervous and wary at the beginning, it amazed me how trusting his natural character was now; he befriended everyone. Not for the first time I wondered what circumstances had brought him to me.

  I sat at the dining table with the laptop open in front of me. I tried to access the internet, as I intended to do a search on Professor Stephens and his specialist friend, Philip Harcourt-Jones.

  ‘Oh damn, why can’t I connect tonight?’ I said in exasperation.

  ‘Try turning your router off and on,’ Dan suggested.

  ‘Good thinking.’ I got up and walked to the wall where the router was plugged in. As I bent down to switch it off, I noticed a shadow pass behind the stained-glass divide between the two rooms. Straightening up, I watched as Nat walked across the sitting room towards the kitchen. Moving quickly to the archway, I was just in time to see him disappearing through the rear wall. I glanced at Dan, still languidly reclining on the sofa, oblivious, but Storm sat bolt upright looking intently at the doorway. I hurried to the kitchen and peered out of the window but there was nothing to see. Nat was not in the courtyard.

  ‘What’s up, Storm?’ I heard Dan say. ‘Seen a ghost?’

  Walking back to the doorway, I stared at Dan.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked, removing Storm from his chest and sitting up.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like you’re expecting me to do, or say, something.’

  ‘Didn’t you see it then?’

  ‘See what?’

  I had always believed Dan and I could talk about anything. We were always in tune with each other, or so I’d thought, but since Lucy had insinuated her way inside his head we appeared to have lost that connection.

  ‘I thought I saw something,’ I said. ‘Never mind. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Jack Daniel’s would be good,’ he said, as his mobile rang.

  I turned back into the kitchen. Stretching up for a couple of shot glasses on the top shelf, I decided that if I was going to make a habit of imbibing I had better move them to a more accessible height. As I poured the drinks, I heard Dan speaking in a low, intense voice. I opened the freezer door and pulled out a tray of ice cubes as Storm wandered through to investigate his food bowl.

  Suddenly Dan’s voice rose in frustration. ‘But why should I? I don’t know how you can ask me that. You obviously don’t know me that well.’

  It was impossible not to overhear the conversation. Hesitating, with drinks in hand, I contemplated stepping outside into the courtyard to give him some privacy.

  ‘Well you’d better shack up with him again then,’ he said loudly and very firmly.

  I left it a few minutes before walking into the room. Dan sat on the edge of the sofa with head in hands, his mobile discarded on the seat beside him. I cleared my throat. He didn’t look up.

  ‘Here, drink this.’ I held out the tumbler.

  ‘God, Mads, what am I going to do?’ He took the glass from me.

  ‘I guess that was Lucy?’ I sat down opposite him.

  He nodded wearily.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ I bobbed an ice cube with my finger.

  ‘What I want to do and what I need to do are two different things,’ he mumbled.

  ‘I suppose she’s asking to come back,’ I said, taking a sip.

  ‘Begging, more like,’ he replied. ‘Says she can’t believe she’s cocked up so badly. She wants us to give it another go.’

  ‘Oh, Dan, you’ve only known her five minutes! For all you know, this might be serial behaviour.’

  He screwed up his face. I could tell he was hurting.

  ‘I thought we had something special. Says she can’t be on her own.’ He looked so troubled. ‘Says she doesn’t trust herself and might do something silly.’

  I was so angry with her for playing that particular card. If she’d been in the room I’d have punched her.

  ‘Dan, listen. I’m going to be brutal. I know I only met her that weekend you visited, but that’s all I needed to understand her. She got into your bed within minutes of meeting you; she knows how to play a man and get what she wants. She’s not going to do away with herself, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s not that type. She’s a survivor. Don’t be fooled by that winsome little girl thing.’ In full flow now, I couldn’t stop, ‘Don’t be so easily manipulated.’

  He stared at me coldly. ‘And when did you become such an authority on the subject?’

  Ouch!

  ‘Well I am a woman,’ I replied, keeping my voice steady. I couldn’t believe how defensive he was. She’d truly got under his skin, and she didn’t deserve his loyalty.

  He knocked back his drink in one.

  ‘I tell you what,’ I said, taking control. ‘Let’s get something to eat at the Chinese in Bridport. They do a fantastic Peking duck, so I’ve been told.’

  He nodded, though I wasn’t sure he’d really heard. And so, hauling him to his feet, I found his jacket and marched him out to the car.

  We had a relatively jolly evening and the restaurant was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night in February. There was plenty of noise and laughter from the other tables to distract us and I tried to keep
Dan’s mind off Lucy. I told him that Mo had met a successful airline executive from New York who thought nothing of flying around the world to join her wherever she happened to be working.

  ‘Good for her. She deserves some pampering.’ He had always liked my sister.

  And I told him about the freelance writing work that was slowly beginning to trickle my way and how the editor of the county magazine had invited me to submit a series of write-ups on places to eat for their ‘local eateries’ feature.

  ‘Well, at least you won’t go without a square meal or two,’ he teased, the old Dan emerging. ‘Perhaps you should include this place? We could get away without paying.’

  ‘I don’t want to be seen as some free-loader before I’ve even started, Dan!’

  We split the bill.

  It was a cold night. The temperature had plummeted while we were in the restaurant and Dan put his arm around me as we hurried back to the car. As I fumbled in my pocket for the car keys his mobile rang. I knew by the look on his face it was Lucy. He answered it and immediately turned away from me, walking to the far side of the car park. I sighed, opened the door and climbed in. A thin layer of ice had formed on the windscreen and I switched on the heater. Dan must be freezing. I blew on my hands and watched him pace up and down, talking intently. At one point he stopped and gesticulated madly. He didn’t look cold. In fact, he looked hot and bothered. I switched on the wipers and watched as they rhythmically smeared ice in a large arc across the glass. Then I switched on the radio. Ten minutes later Dan returned to the car. As he opened the door a blast of cold air accompanied him.

  ‘Get in quick,’ I said.

  He jumped in and shut the door.

  ‘OK?’

  He nodded but said nothing and we drove back to Walditch in silence.

  I didn’t question him further that night. It was up to Dan to decide how to handle Lucy but I fervently hoped he would see sense and not take up with her again. On the landing we said goodnight and went to our separate rooms.

  A few hours later I awoke… or was I dreaming? When I thought about it later, I couldn’t be sure. I was sobbing. Quickly, I sat up in bed and tried to catch my breath. I breathed in slowly and deeply but the ache in my heart was too great.

  ‘Hush… Don’t fret so.’ A hand gently rubbed my back. ‘The boy’s in a much better place.’ A tender kiss on my neck.

  I turned towards the voice. In the darkness I could just make out Dan, though he was altered, and then I saw it was Nat. Immediately, I looked across to the corner of the room. It was empty. The cot had gone. A wave of utter despair engulfed me as I understood what it was I’d been so frantically searching for. My son.

  ‘He’s at peace, my love. Let him be.’ Nat wiped away my tears and kissed me softly. ‘I will give you another,’ he whispered.

  Despite my heavy heart, the instant I felt his weight a charge surged through me. I couldn’t believe how hungry I was for him or the shudders he drew from my body. Our lovemaking that night built to a wild and desperate crescendo, as if our very lives depended on it.

  Afterwards, as we lay sated in each other’s arms, slipping into sleep, he whispered, ‘I will love you for eternity, Mary, my love, my life…’

  The next morning I came to, emotionally exhausted. My eyes were sore from crying. As I turned over I saw Dan asleep beside me. The movement disturbed him. He started to wake and I watched as he focused on me, smiling sleepily before closing his eyes again. Suddenly, he sat up sharply.

  ‘What?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘What am I doing here?’

  How do I explain this?

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m as surprised as you,’ I answered innocently.

  ‘Hell! How did I get here?’

  ‘Well, if you can’t remember I suppose you might have been sleepwalking or something…’

  ‘Oh God!’ he exclaimed, holding his head in his hands; a gesture he was doing a lot these days.

  I decided to be flippant. ‘Well thanks a bunch, mate.’

  He gave me an anguished look. ‘I don’t mean it like that. I mean I’m bloody sleepwalking now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Dan,’ I said calmly. ‘It probably has something to do with being in a strange house.’

  Stranger than he could ever imagine.

  ‘You’ll be fine once you’re back in your own flat.’ He didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m going to make tea,’ I said, swinging my legs out of bed.

  He grabbed my arm. ‘Mads, we didn’t, did we?’ Panic rose in his voice.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ I half-lied, unsure whether it was Nat or Dan I had made love to so passionately. ‘But, so what if we did? You’re not married or anything.’

  ‘Oh Christ!’ he groaned.

  I started to get angry. ‘For God’s sake, Dan, it’s not as if we don’t know each other’s bodies inside out!’

  ‘I know, I know. Oh, Mads, I’m in such a mess.’

  And feeling sorry for yourself is so very unattractive. Get a grip…

  I headed for the door, stomped downstairs to the kitchen and filled the kettle. Storm, curled up in his favourite chair by the inglenook, watched me through the open doorway. Suddenly he stretched, jumped down and walked into the kitchen. As I opened a tin of cat food he purred loudly and rubbed around my legs.

  ‘You and me, Storm,’ I said softly. ‘That’s the way to be. Just you and me. So much less complicated.’

  I was still irritated as I took the mugs of tea upstairs. When I opened the bedroom door Dan was on his mobile. I assumed to Lucy. Swiftly, I placed the mugs on the bedside cabinet, turned and walked back downstairs to the bathroom. As I peered in the mirror I was stunned by my appearance – swollen face and red-rimmed, puffball eyes – and Dan hadn’t even noticed! I splashed cold water on my face. Then I placed a couple of soaked cotton wool pads on my eyelids and savoured the sweet coolness against my burning skin. I’d just finished brushing my teeth when I heard Dan noisily coming down the stairs. Why did he seem such a bull in a china shop these days? He knocked loudly on the door.

  ‘Mads, I think I’ll head back to London this morning.’

  I opened the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand. He was already dressed.

  ‘That was Lucy. She wants to meet up today.’ He took a step back from the doorway, as if to get out of the firing line. ‘And before you say anything, I’m not going to welcome her back with open arms.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, Dan,’ I said crossly.

  He gave me a long, hard, cold and unforgiving look. It was one I hadn’t seen before. Who was this person? Obviously eager to be on the road and away back to Lucy, he said he would make a start on the breakfast.

  Dan left around eleven without either of us mentioning Lucy again or his presence in my bed the previous night. Once he’d gone I breathed a sigh of relief. I was sorry to see him so troubled and in such emotional turmoil, but the laid-back, easy-going man I’d known for so long was nowhere in sight.

  13

  I spent Sunday morning working on a piece about the Blacksmith’s Arms for the ‘local eateries’ feature but by lunchtime I felt claustrophobic and desperately needed to get out. Following Dan’s unexpected visit I’d been in a strange mood, reflective and quiet, and my usual optimistic outlook had deserted me. As I drove out of the village with no pre-planned destination in mind, I thought it would be interesting to see where I eventually arrived.

  It turned out to be the Hardy Monument. Standing tall on the summit of Black Down Hill, high above the village of Portesham, it is visible from many miles away and commands stunning, panoramic views over most of Dorset. Months later I would ask myself why, on that particular day, was I directed to this area, but at the time I was simply enjoying a break in the weather, driving along country lanes that twisted and turned through the beautiful Dorset downland.

  It was a crystal-clear day with a wintry sun at its zenith when I arrived at the monument. I parked alon
gside the only two other vehicles in the car park and, grabbing my camera, took several photos of the monument and the surrounding landscape before finding a grassy hillock a short distance away. Throwing my waxed jacket on the ground, I sat down upon it. The air was so fresh and clear up here and I breathed in great lungfuls, as I tried to rid myself of the strange mood that besieged me. It was like being on top of the world; I could see for miles. The view from the western tip of Chesil Beach right the way along the coast to the Isle of Portland was breath-taking, and I lazily watched two tankers slowly make their way across the horizon of a sparkling, flat sea.

  I’d been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes, allowing the scenery to work its magic and soothe my soul, when way below, in the far distance, three dogs emerged from the edge of the woods. Casually, I watched their rapid journey across the undulating landscape as they raced each other, stretching their limbs to the maximum and covering the ground with athletic ability. The terrier was easily outrun by the two larger dogs.

  As I followed their progress, on the periphery of my vision, I saw a man emerge from the trees and call to the dogs. With a start, I recognised the figure – his build, the rough workmanlike clothes and the way he moved. It was Nat. Suddenly fully alert; I sat very still and focused on the scene below. He called to the dogs again and the terrier halted its pursuit. Panting heavily, it looked back at the man, as he strode across the landscape towards the exhausted dog. The two larger dogs still competed with each other and tore up the hill towards the monument. As they drew closer my heart began to race, as I recognised the Weimaraner and pointer. Looking back down the hill I saw that the figure, too, had altered its course and was beginning the steep climb to the Hardy Monument. A couple of minutes later the dogs came bounding over the ridge, their pace now slower and more laboured. They circled the monument twice before coming to a stop in front of me.

  ‘Hello, Baron and Casper.’

  Cocking their heads, the dogs observed me. The pointer approached and lay down at my side. I smiled. Baron watched but, being the one-person dog that he was, kept his distance and waited for his master. Maybe ten minutes later Nick appeared, breathing heavily; his lovely face flushed and energised. He stopped in surprise when he saw me.