Trouble Brewing

by Jane Tara

  Eleanor made her way through the room with a look on her face more suitable for someone about to have a root canal. She gave both her granddaughters a peck on the cheek. “What are you two giggling about?”

  Calypso couldn’t help herself. “I was just giving Nell a message from a fairy.”

  “That’s not the appropriate term, Calypso,” Eleanor chided. “My friend Dominic at the library prefers the term homosexual.”

  Nell and Calypso both nodded solemnly while their feet kicked at each other under the table.

  “I’ve already ordered your tea, Gran,” Nell said, as the waiter arrived with their drinks.

  “Thank you, dear.” She poured herself a cup of Earl Grey and then turned to Calypso. “How have you been?”

  “Good … yep,” Calypso said. “Happy birthday by the way … for last month.”

  Eleanor sighed. “They come around quickly. We might as well make a toast to the next one now.”

  “Suits me,” Calypso said. “Then no one can say I forgot it.”

  Another swift kick from Nell under the table.

  “You look well, Gran,” Nell said.

  “Thanks to powder and a dash of rouge. I’ve barely slept at all, with this sciatica.” She smiled at Nell. “How’s Julian?”

  “He’s good, Gran. A very nice man.”

  “He’s a handsome boy, isn’t he?”

  Nell hesitated, then said, “He’s charming.”

  “Does the museum have rules about employees dating?”

  Calypso rolled her eyes. Her turn was undoubtedly next.

  “Actually, Gran, I was going to talk to you about this.” Nell had already worked out how to deliver the next bit of news with minimum fuss. “Percy has offered me a full-time job at the BMR, and I’ve accepted.”

  “But you can’t work for free,” Eleanor barked.

  “Full pay and benefits. Plus I’ll be doing what I love.”

  Eleanor looked like she was about to cry, something she hadn’t done since Alf first brought Batty home. “But the National is the best museum in London, Nell. Don’t blow this opportunity.”

  “I’ve had such a lovely time there, and learnt so much. And now I can return to the BMR and put that experience to good use. And of course, it means Julian and I will no longer be colleagues, so I’ve asked him out.”

  Eleanor clapped her hands in front of her. “Call me Cupid, but I knew it. He comes from quite a wealthy family you know.”

  “Let’s not get too excited yet, Gran. It’s just a date.”

  Eleanor refrained from asking any more questions. She knew Nell well enough not to pry at this point. That would come later.

  Instead, she turned to Calypso. “And what about you?”

  Calypso could tell by the look on her grandmother’s face that she was steeling herself for the usual answer: “There are a few guys but no one special.” Normally it would take pigs flying for her to share personal information with her grandmother – but she was still feeling guilty about missing her birthday. What harm would it do?

  Calypso brushed some invisible lint from her jeans. “Yeah … I … er … met someone … special.”

  Calypso waited for the usual lecture about boys not liking easy girls, or choosing a man who could provide, but instead … complete silence.

  Eventually, she raised her head and looked at her grandmother. Eleanor was staring straight at her, eyes glistening. One understanding nod, and then Eleanor reached her hand out and placed it on top of Calypso’s. “I’m so very happy for you dear.”

  It was a moment so unexpected, so filled with emotion, that both Calypso and Nell searched the room for something to say, as though the words would be hanging alongside the dusty drapes. It was Eleanor who came to their rescue.

  “I do believe this calls for a celebration. Let’s order some cake.” She grabbed the menu and buried her head in the dessert section. “And Calypso, you can pay for it, seeing as you missed my birthday.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Pear wine helps combat cellulite

  Calypso and Nell stepped off the street and straight into a gigantic cobweb.

  “Holy Spiderman,” Nell whispered. “What is this?”

  One of the gallery attendants handed them a program. “This explains the inspiration for Mr Dee’s exhibition, and contains a summary of each piece.”

  “Thanks.” Calypso took the program and looked inside.

  The Web of Life: Taran Dee takes us on a moving visual exploration of the interconnected threads between the events and the people who have shaped and inspired him. Each portrait symbolizes a thread, weaved into the fabric of his destiny.

  Calypso and Nell pushed their way through the crowd. The guest list was like a who’s who of Hello! magazine, with wall-to-wall socialites, minor royalty, and the occasional A-lister – mix together, add Krug, wait for the froth to rise.

  “I think I just stepped on Princess Beatrice’s foot.” Nell giggled. “Are they all here for Taran’s work?”

  “That or the free champagne.”

  Calypso took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The walls were lined with paintings of varying sizes. There was spot lighting above each piece, which gave the room a nocturnal feel. The pieces were attached to one another by numerous delicate silver wires. The wires shimmered like the fine-spun thread of a spider’s web, or the threads of life.

  “The goddess weaves Taran’s Fate, each person interconnected and destined,” Nell said.

  “Or maybe he’s an arachnologist,” Calypso whispered.

  They moved from a few smaller pieces to a large one. It seemed to be a self-portrait, with two versions of the artist. At the forefront was Taran, only with blond hair. Behind that image was a smaller, darker version of himself.

  “That’s Finn,” Calypso explained. She opened the program and read, “‘Two forces, masculine, feminine, dark and light, the essence of life. One cannot exist without the other.’”

  “Brace yourself, Callie … There’s one of you.”

  Calypso turned and her own image bore down on her. Embarrassed heat rose to her cheeks and then in one tidal rush flooded her whole body. Everyone nearby was watching her. Everyone waited for a reaction. She didn’t give them one. How could she? One glance at the canvas and she was completely overwhelmed. He had truly captured her, not only her physicality, but also her spirit.

  Nell read from the program. “‘Love, the force all threads emerge from. The point all threads return to.’” She looked at her sister and tried not to laugh. “That’s a lot to live up to.”

  Calypso was as red as a beet. “If I wasn’t so moved I’d kill him.”

  “Who’s this one?” Nell guided her sister away from the staring onlookers and to the next portrait. “It looks like the spider.”

  “It’s his mother.”

  Nell burst out laughing. “Okay, that one speaks for itself.”

  “Yeah, I look forward to meeting her.”

  *

  Calypso noticed Taran on the other side of the room, standing with Simon and Megan. He seemed nervous and his eyes scanned the room. Then he saw her … and he looked like he’d just seen sunshine after fifty years in a cave.

  “There’s Spiderman.” She took Nell’s hand and led her across the room.

  “Here they are!” Megan and Simon were even speaking in unison now.

  “You look lovely, Nell.” He gave Nell a peck and winked at Calypso as he put his arm around her. “You too, my gorgeous firestarter.”

  “This is amazing, Taran,” Nell said. “I’m quite speechless.”

  “I didn’t know you could knit,” Calypso teased.

  “I didn’t know he could build websites.” Simon had been waiting to use that one.

  Megan gave him a slap. “Oh, Sime, so lame, so lame.” She turned to Calypso. “Shall we do the rounds? There’s one of Simon apparently.”

  Calypso pulled an embarrassed face. “Twenty quid says mine’s bigger, Si
mon.”

  “Unfair bet, Cal, Simon’s is a weiner.” Taran gave a look of faux comprehension. “Oh, you mean his painting?”

  “Where do we start, Taran?”

  Taran led his friends toward the back wall. “There’s no beginning, no end. Each thread is its own journey, and yet essential to the total. The weaver links the experiences together in surprising ways.”

  “By weaver you mean the Goddess?” Nell asked.

  “Is that what it means to you?”

  Nell nodded. “Yes. She weaves together the tapestry of our lives, right?”

  “But we have free will, so really we construct our own webs,” Calypso said.

  “We still can’t escape destiny,” Nell pointed out.

  Taran gave Calypso a quick squeeze. “Try though you might.” He paused in front of a large painting in an ornate oval frame. “You could say this is the starting point for the exhibition. It’s what led to here.”

  Taran waited for his friends to say something, but the piece was met by a deadly silence.

  “I like it,” Simon offered, rather meekly.

  Nell reached out to Calypso. Megan stared at the painting, for once, speechless.

  “Are you okay, Cal?” Taran asked, alarmed.

  Megan regained her voice, but only spoke to Nell and Calypso. “It’s a coincidence. It’s not exactly like him, right?”

  “Who? What’s going on?” Taran asked.

  Calypso was like a deer caught in headlights. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t take her eyes off the painting of a man who looked so much like Scott. It wasn’t identical, it was just a strong likeness … except that the subject looked like he’d been in a fight, and hanging around his neck was Scott’s one-of-a-kind amulet.

  “Around his neck. Where did you see that?” Calypso’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Taran fumbled at his shirt collar and undid a few buttons. “You mean this?” He drew back his shirt and showed her the amulet from the painting, hanging around his neck – a web with a spider made from a flawless black tourmaline in the center.

  Calypso reeled back as though he’d hit her. She’d know it anywhere. Hanging around Taran’s neck was Scott’s talisman. Turn it over and engraved on the back would be Two threads.

  Calypso felt the blood drain from her legs. She blinked a few times but nothing changed. There was no mistaking it. She’d had it made for Scott. She’d designed it herself. It was a completely original piece of jewelry, which was why she’d been so upset with Scott when he’d given it away.

  “Are all your teeth real?” Stupid question when she already knew the answer.

  Taran’s eyes widened. “I had one knocked out. I was in Bangkok and—”

  Calypso had heard enough. She glanced at Megan and Nell, who were as horrified as she. Calypso felt faint. This can’t be happening, not here in public. She needed to escape, immediately. “Excuse me … I have to …”

  Disappear again. And she did, quickly, through the crowd and out the gallery door before anyone could stop her.

  *

  Taran looked absolutely stricken. “What just happened?”

  “Buggered if I know, mate. Some weird dental thing,” Simon said.

  They both turned to Nell, hoping she could shine some light on Calypso’s behavior, but she was already pushing her way through the crowd, after her sister.

  Simon turned to his girlfriend, who was in tears. “Meg, what’s going on?”

  Megan’s face crumpled. “The guy in that painting is Scott. It doesn’t look exactly – it’s an eerie likeness.”

  Now Taran felt sick. “I painted that guy from memory. I only met him once.”

  Megan nodded. “In Bangkok. You saved him. And he gave you that amulet.”

  Taran shook his head. “No, the guy who gave me this was Ando. His name was Ando.”

  “Scott Anderson – known to his mates as Ando.”

  Taran grabbed Megan’s hand and dragged her out of the gallery. Simon followed hot on their heels. Taran needed air .

  He hit the pavement outside and turned to Megan. “Are you telling me the guy I saved in Bangkok was Scott? The man I spent one life-altering night with was the Scott?”

  Megan was just as confused as Taran. “I was with Callie when she designed that amulet. There’s no mistaking it. That’s Scott on that wall.”

  Taran ran his fingers through his hair. How could this be happening? He clearly remembered the night he met Scott. The moment he stumbled across him being beaten. The ensuing violence. The attackers retreating.

  “Run, you bastards,” Scott had yelled after the men. And then, ignoring his injuries, reached out to Taran. “I’m Ando … and I owe you my life.”

  Taran shook the outstretched hand. “A drink should suffice.”

  Taran slammed back to the present when he heard Nell running towards them. “She drove off before I could stop her.”

  “Should we go back to the pub?” Simon asked.

  “She won’t be there,” Megan said.

  Nell agreed. “She never goes home when she runs away.”

  “Yes, she does,” Taran said. “She goes to the cottage.”

  “You’re right. What should we do?”

  Taran was shifting quickly between two places, two times.

  Nell sensed his distress and reached out to him. “What happened the night you saved Scott?”

  Taran pressed his forehead. He felt like he was about to crack. “I didn’t save him. He saved me.” He felt like crying. It was ridiculous. He’d only met Scott the once, but it had been a turning point in his life. Taran looked at the others, who were waiting for him to speak. “That night … it was important. To us both.”

  “This is too strange to be a coincidence, don’t you think?” Megan asked quietly.

  “There’s no such thing as coincidence,” Nell said.

  Taran nodded. “Scott told me that night that he felt his ‘number was going to come up’ soon, and he was worried about his girlfriend. It was clear how much he adored her.” He paused for a moment, emotional. “He said, ‘You’d look after her.’ I disagreed. I told him I’d fuck her up, like I fucked everything up. But he had this … faith in me. ‘You’d be good for her. And mate, she’d be good for you.’ Of course, I just thought it was the vodka talking … I never expected …”

  “Of course not,” Nell finished.

  “You don’t think Cal will do anything stupid, do you?” Simon said.

  Taran knew damn well she could. “She’s impulsive. And she drives like a maniac. She’ll be halfway to Tintagel by now.”

  Simon looked at his watch. “I can make a call and get us a plane.”

  Megan stared at her fiancé. “Who are you? James Bond?”

  “It belongs to my family, but they never use it and the pilot is loyal to me.” Simon looked at his friends. “We’ll fly into Bodmin and rent a car there.”

  Megan was in. “It would be quicker than driving.”

  Taran nodded. “Great, let’s do it.”

  “What about your opening?” Nell asked.

  Taran gave her a resigned grin. “Some things are more important, right?

  Nell reached out and gave him a hug. “Scott was right,” she whispered.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Detox the liver with grapefruit wine

  Calypso’s heartbeat was as loud as her breath, and just as ragged, as she ran through the forest. The orbs of light were waiting for her, expecting her, but for once, they didn’t come down to greet her. There were no whispers or giggles. They silently lit the path all the way to the glen and Adelein, who was waiting.

  Calypso was nervous. She knew the Faun would not be pleased with her, but she’d come this far and her mind was made up. But before she could speak, Adelein nodded.

  “I know why you’re here. Follow me.”

  “Thank you, Adelein.”

  The Faun turned and walked deeper into the forest. “I will guide you in but you must find your o
wn way out.”

  “Of course.” Calypso had expected that but hearing it unnerved her. Would she be able to find her way out of Summerland without Sylph dust? She’d been trained beyond the veils, and knew how to pass through different layers of reality, and still return. She was banking on that experience to get her through – and home.

  The Faun led her into a circle of Fey folk who had already lifted the first veil. There was no time to waste. If she was going to return, she needed to do so before dawn.

  Calypso lie in the centre of the circle and closed her eyes. It was too late to change her mind now, even if she wanted to. She felt the first shift. She could hear the buzz of power as she passed from one tier to another.

  The ceremony began.

  The Fey folk chanted and sang. The melody started quite low, but rose note by note as the veils lifted. Higher and higher they sang. To anyone walking nearby it would’ve sounded like thousands of crickets in the thick of summer. But to Calypso, who used each note to move further away from the earthly realm, the sound was like someone rimming a crystal glass, only clearer, brighter, a hundred times magnified. Each note held all the mysteries of the world. It was pure joy and beauty and Calypso basked in it while she could. She drew strength from the sound, because she would need it later. That much she was sure of.

  The buzz grew louder and her own energy exploded as the Fey folk hit one completely pure high note, so high even dogs wouldn’t hear it. It was the bridge she crossed as she left the dense human realm and began to move through the layers toward Summerland. She drifted, she floated, she soared. She flew faster than light and sound, yet was filled with stillness. She fell into a state of slumber, yet all her senses were alert, a heightened awareness took hold.

  Adelein’s voice rang out, “Safe journey, friend.”

  She was alone. She opened her eyes and took a moment to get her bearings. She was surrounded by a dense mist, and could barely see her hands in front of her. The air was still, and while not dark, it felt like twilight. An eternal one.

  Calypso knew where she was. She’d been this far in her training before.

  “Right … so far, so good …” Calypso took in her surroundings. She was at the edge of a dense forest. Shards of light pierced through sections in the trees, in an otherwise dark and overbearingly quiet place. She noticed a stone staircase leading up and, left with no other options, took it. The woods around her were unlike any she’d seen before, yet not entirely unfamiliar. The area was thick with gnarled trees that seemed ancient in energy. Given the human propensity to destroy the natural surroundings, Calypso realized that these trees were not from another place, but another time. As she grasped the reality she was in, the spirit trees began to disappear, one by one, until she was surrounded by space and nothing. She continued up the stairs, one determined step at a time, wondering how long they would continue.