Once...

by James Herbert

  It was like the first time they had strolled through the woods – although now they were strangers no longer – when she had made him aware of the secret life around them. Animals played together and with the faerefolkis. A faery glided by holding silken reins drawn by a yellow and black butterfly. Two sprites were engaged in a mock swordfight, using long, birds’ feathers as soft weapons. A pixie rode a snail, while another cavorted on the back of a dormouse. A group of green-coated elves threw a red berry about as if it were a ball, while others were happy merely to sit on leaves and inside flowers and chatter, or to dance around toadstools and raise their little voices in song, accompanied by an elf playing a clay pipe of some kind, while one of the faeries plucked at a tiny instrument that looked like a lute. Some were gathering sticks and twigs that had been blown from trees and bushes in last night’s gale, carrying them off over their shoulders, or in their arms, to build homes (Jennet explained) for themselves and their families, or for friends whose habitats had been destroyed by the harsh winds.

  Thom found the company around him intoxicating and he laughed aloud at their antics. It was difficult to think of last night’s events as real; they felt like a very bad nightmare. Jennet, who had remained silent for some while, suddenly prompted him.

  ‘Tell me what happened after Rigwit and I left the Great Place. And this morning. There must have been much to explain.’

  The prompt brought him up short. Suddenly he was no longer paying attention to the woodland activity.

  ‘It was a long night, explaining everything and making statements to the police. You know what I mean by police? Don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ She was mildly indignant. ‘We are more aware of your world than you might think. The police are the ones that come and scold you when you’ve done something very bad.’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, something like that. To begin with, Bones – I mean Hartgrove – the person who looked after Sir Russell . . .’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’

  He regarded her curiously.

  ‘Thom, I told you. We know much more than you think. Your grandfather has lived just beyond the woods for many, many years. The faerefolkis know of everyone who ever lived in the Castle.’

  Thom considered that for a moment, then went on: ‘By the time I returned downstairs to the main hall, Hartgrove had managed to crawl up from the cellar. I must admit, I’d expected to find him lying dead on the cellar floor, so it was wonderful to find him sitting at the bottom of the hall staircase. He was in a bad way though, and the first thing I wanted to do was phone for an ambulance. By then the storm had passed, but there was still no electricity, although the phone lines were working.’

  ‘The witch-woman invoked the storm. When she died, so the storm abated.’

  ‘Hartgrove wouldn’t let me call anybody until I had told him everything that had occurred upstairs. He was still in a daze and hurting quite badly – apart from the serious blow to the head, he’d managed to fracture several ribs. But he’s tougher than he looks, and very determined.’

  Thom took in another deep breath, remembering the foul stenches that had poisoned the air in the eyrie room.

  ‘So, I told him everything, didn’t leave out a thing, and you know what? Nothing surprised him, nothing at all fazed him. It was as if he already knew about witchcraft and faeries, and all that stuff. He wasn’t even put out when I told him of the demons.’

  ‘But he has always been aware of us,’ Jennet said patiently, ‘just as his father and his father’s father were before him. Each generation of Hartgroves knew the estate’s secret.’

  ‘He knew all along? Even when I was a kid?’

  ‘It was he who helped your own father, Jonathan, explain who and what he had fallen in love with all those years ago. The man Hartgrove tried to smooth the way for Jonathan and Bethan. He eventually told your grandfather everything about the faerefolkis who lived on his land.’

  ‘Then why didn’t Hartgrove ever say anything to me when I was younger? Why didn’t Sir Russell?’

  ‘Because the master of Castle Bracken did not approve. He hated the faerefolkis because they were not human. He called them freaks of nature, the Devil’s children. He forbade Jonathan ever to speak of your mother in his presence.’

  On this serene day, and after all he had been through, Thom could not feel anger. He was concerned, disturbed by the new information maybe, but not angry.

  ‘Sir Russell wouldn’t accept my mother into the family, but he did give her a job as a tutor and governess to his other son, Hugo. And he did allow her to live in Little Bracken.’

  ‘Where she had already lived with Jonathan for more than a year. Neither she nor Jonathan cared about a formal marriage – it certainly isn’t our way, love alone is enough for us and never an arrangement – and your grandfather would never have let it happen. Jonathan feared for the forest dwellers – us, the faerefolkis – concerned that his father might devastate the woodlands with those awful machines you have. He was afraid Sir Russell would authorize homes to be built and roadways to be put in. We would have had to leave this place, but where would we go? More and more, humans are changing the landscape, destroying the natural countryside. We often wonder if you will ever learn.’

  Tiny laughter interrupted her. A ring of faeries was listening to their storyteller – Thom could not remember the elf’s odd name – and they clapped their hands together with joy, a quiet pattering sound.

  ‘After his son’s death, Sir Russell promised to take care of Bethan and her son, you, on one condition.’

  Thom bought them both to a halt on the obscure track.

  ‘What did my mother have to do?’ he asked gravely, even though he had already guessed.

  ‘She had to promise never to tell you who your father was. When she had to return to the undines after your tenth birthday – oh, she didn’t want to leave you, she begged and pleaded with the Magicks, our leaders, but there was nothing that could be done: it was our natural law, something even we have no control over – he made her vow something more. He would take charge of your welfare if she made you forget everything you had learned of the faerefolkis. She had no choice but to agree, although she did hide the Book among others on a top shelf in the cottage, with the hope, I believe, that some day, when you were older, you would discover it.’

  ‘The—’ He was about to curse his grandfather’s memory, but held back. Too much had passed between them last night and things had changed in more ways than one.

  On the roof terrace, Thom had sunk to his knees in the rain, appalled and sickened by what had just befallen Nell Quick. Her blackened corpse lay on the stone floor, smouldering and steaming in the downpour, and the smell of her cooked body had caused him to retch.

  Eventually, Thom had returned to the rooftop room with its burning candles and glass-strewn floor, where Jennet and Rigwit were waiting for him, the plump figure of Hugo sitting among the glass fragments, staring directly ahead, his mind in some other place entirely.

  ‘You saw what happened,’ Thom said to Jennet as they continued walking through the woods. ‘After we held on to each other and Rigwit set about erasing the chalk pentagram.’

  ‘It’s an evil thing, especially when drawn by one such as the witch,’ Jennet interrupted. ‘Rigwit knew its power.’

  Thom nodded, understanding the symbol’s significance only too well by now. ‘I went to my grandfather. I . . . I thought he was already dead. But his eyes opened a little as I sat next to him on the bed. He took my hand, Jennet . . .’

  ‘I saw.’ Jennet pressed close to his side as they walked.

  ‘Did you hear what he said? His voice was very weak.’

  ‘I heard, Thom.’

  ‘He called me Jonathan. He called me by my father’s name. But then his eyes opened a little more and I saw recognition in them. I saw something else too. For the first time there was . . . there was affection there.’

  ‘No, Thom. It was love. I saw it, I felt it.’<
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  He was silent for a few moments. A sparrow hopped across their path and then was gone, into the undergrowth.

  ‘He called me Thom.’ He looked at Jennet and she smiled sadly. ‘He called me Thom and his grip tightened on my hand, just for a moment, a squeeze that told me more than words. And then he said: “Take care of them. The world needs them more than ever.” His hand fell away from mine and my grandfather died. It was only when I spoke to Hartgrove later that I understood who he meant. He wanted me to take care of the faerefolkis.’

  Thom caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees ahead.

  ‘I asked Hartgrove what had changed Sir Russell’s mind about your kind and he told me that it happened after he became bedridden. My grandfather’s illness was not caused by any magic spell of Nell’s, by the way. I guess she kept that for me. It was a genuine illness brought about by a diseased heart. That’s the irony of the whole situation. Nell and Hugo were trying to keep my grandfather alive, at least until they’d found his last Will and Testament, or I was dead. And all the time I thought they were slowly poisoning him, or Nell was using some kind of voodoo magic, as she had on me. But they were prepared to finish him off last night by more practical means if his heart did not finally give out with all the horror Nell had invited to his room. I’ll get to that in a moment though.’

  ‘You said you’d asked Hartgrove what had made your grandfather change his mind about us,’ Jennet said.

  ‘It seemed his condition had made Sir Russell rethink a lot of things. He truly missed his son, Jonathan, and regretted his harsh treatment of both him and my mother. Hartgrove told me that Hugo had completely failed his father, in more ways than I was aware of, in fact. Hugo had not been sacked from his insurance company for incompetence, but for sharp practice and embezzlement. He was cheating his personal clients out of the full dividends they were owed. Only Sir Russell’s intervention and repayment kept the scandal out of court. Hugo also drank too much and he was into drugs. Cocaine is expensive, which might have accounted for the shortfalls in profits owed to his clients. But it gets worse.’

  Thom was slowly shaking his head as if still astounded by the revelations.

  ‘There was the small matter of his gambling – dogs, horses, roulette; apparently he did the lot.’ Thom sighed. ‘I’m just amazed I wasn’t aware of all this, even though I never saw much of Hugo. Too busy getting on with my own career.’

  A cool breeze met them from the lake and Thom undid his shirt buttons to make the most of it. The hem of Jennet’s thin dress ruffled and locks of golden hair tickled her cheek. The breeze soon passed.

  ‘Anyhow,’ Thom went on, ‘Sir Russell began to regret his treatment of his eldest son, comparing him to Hugo, I suppose. It was wrong, but at least it served to soften his general attitude. His heart disease caused him to open his mind. That’s when he asked Hartgrove to help him make his new Will.’

  ‘Which Hugo caught wind of and finally found.’

  ‘Hugo must have eavesdropped on them both when they were discussing the Will, or Sir Russell murmured something about it when he was in one of his semi-conscious states. Nell could have overheard and started the search.’

  ‘And the Will was destroyed last night, burnt by the lightning.’

  ‘Hugo and Nell didn’t know, but there were two of them anyway. Hartgrove copied out another, which Sir Russell signed and, obviously, Hartgrove witnessed. Hartgrove kept it on him at all times. Seems he had always been suspicious of Nell and her relationship with Hugo. Hugo just brought her home one day, by the way, and announced she was to be Sir Russell’s full-time carer to ease the burden on Hartgrove.’

  They came out of the woods to stand by the lakeside. She pointed to a patch of lush grass beneath a willow tree, whose branches drooped into the calm waters. They strolled over and sat side by side.

  ‘Rigwit and I left before the policemen and the doctor people arrived,’ Jennet said, again as a prompt.

  ‘Right. And I closed the book once the faeries had returned inside and left it in the antechamber next door. The medics took a look at Sir Russell and advised me to call in his doctor to formalize time of death and all that. The ambulance took Hartgrove away, but left Hugo there for the doctor to examine when he arrived. Of course, the doctor called another ambulance for Hugo as soon as he examined him. I learned this morning that he’s still in a catatonic state, but there’s no other physical damage, not even cuts from the glass from the shattered windows.’

  ‘What will become of him?’

  ‘His condition is only just being assessed, but the family doctor told me that Hugo is in shock. His mind has closed down and it might stay that way for a long time to come. Or he may never recover. Whatever the outcome, I’ll take care of him. If the worst happens, I’ll make sure he’s kept in the best kind of home or hospital that deals with that kind of thing. In some ways it’ll be unfortunate if he does remember what happened.’

  ‘If that should be the case, Rigwit has the means to make him forget last night and his involvement with the wiccan. But he did help Nell Quick in her efforts to murder you. Don’t you at least blame him for that?’

  ‘What’s the point? Okay, he isn’t the best person in the world and, as it turns out, he wasn’t the best friend to me either. But I believe he was corrupted by Nell in the end and learning he’d been deprived of his inheritance sent him over the edge.’

  ‘That’s generous of you, Thom.’

  ‘Not really. Believe it or not, I still like Hugo. Seems crazy, I know, but I can’t forget when we were kids. Besides, it looks like I’m going to be reasonably wealthy once I’ve sold off all the shares Sir Russell still has in various companies, so I can easily afford to pay for Hugo’s care.’

  ‘But isn’t he in trouble with your policemen?’

  ‘I kept Hugo out of it. Before I called the police I made sure Hartgrove was comfortable, then went back upstairs and removed all the candles from the room. The wind had dropped by then, but there was still enough breeze coming through the smashed windows to clear the air of that waxy smell, as well as all the others that had come with . . . with, well, those apparitions.’

  ‘They weren’t apparitions, Thom.’

  ‘I know, but it’s how I prefer to think of them. When the police finally arrived I told them both Hartgrove and I suspected Nell had been trying to harm Sir Russell and I’d gone over to confront her that night. Naturally, Hartgrove backed me up and told them, before he was carted away in the ambulance, that Nell had deliberately pushed him down the cellar stairs. Hartgrove and I had already agreed – Hartgrove a little reluctantly, I must admit, but he knew Sir Russell, himself, would have approved – not to mention Hugo’s part in all this.’

  Thom had expected to see undines emerging from the lake on this beautiful day, but there was no sign of them. In fact, even the faeries and elves had vanished.

  ‘Now this is where it all fits perfectly. Nell was going to poison Sir Russell if the fatal heart attack failed to happen. The police were mystified when they found pieces of coral on the medicine trolley by the bed. One of them was astute enough to remember something he’d read or heard during the course of his duties. The coral that’s found in these parts is the same kind as sea polyps found in the Pacific Ocean.’

  ‘And it can be used for making poison. We’ve always known this.’

  ‘I spoke to the police this morning, and they had a small bottle of liquid that stood next to the coral on the trolley analysed overnight. It contained polytoxin, taken from the coral by whatever process Nell was able to use—’

  ‘It isn’t difficult if you know how to extract the poison and the rites that have to be performed.’

  He looked at her blankly for a moment. ‘Okay. Anyway, it seems this particular toxin isn’t traceable in the body’s system. No post-mortem would ever have found it. Nell didn’t even have to apply for the polytoxin from any biochemical firm, because she processed it herself. She had it covered all ways.’


  This time, Thom’s sigh was deeper. He found it difficult to credit such wickedness. ‘I told the police that I’d confronted Nell over my suspicions and she’d run out on to the terrace in panic. She’d already tried to kill Hartgrove and hadn’t quite managed it, so the game was up. Outside on the roof, lightning had struck her as well as blowing in the windows. Hugo had witnessed her electrocution and had been traumatized by it. It was a lot for them to swallow, but with Hartgrove’s statement and the result of the analysis this morning, they seem to have accepted the story.’

  Thom leaned back on one elbow, relieved to have got so much off his chest. He knew he should have been exhausted by last night’s and the early morning’s events – he calculated he’d had no more than four hours’ sleep – but he wasn’t: he was elated instead; peacefully elated, if that were possible. And yes, he was saddened too. Nobody’s death was good news, not even Nell Quick’s. Thoughts of his grandfather, Sir Russell Bleeth, were with him also. To discover he was related to the man he’d always regarded with respectful awe, and not a little fear, then to lose him just when his birthright was acknowledged was tragic. At least the last few moments with the dying man had redeemed some of the past.

  And then there was poor Hugo, struck speechless, shocked into a zombie-like state that might possibly last for the rest of his life. Thom fervently hoped it wouldn’t. He looked out across the lake, so still, so placid.

  ‘Thom?’

  He turned back to Jennet and her expression was serious.

  ‘What will you do with the Castle and all its lands?’ she asked.

  He gathered his thoughts before replying, his gaze returning to the still waters. He smiled a sad smile. ‘I had an idea when I visited Katy Budd at the hospital today.’

  She raised her eyebrows at him, but he was still watching the lake.