by Liz Williams
Luna
Luna didn’t want to say anything to Sam, just yet. She did not think that she wanted to know herself, even. It would be a secret from everyone, from the world, held within the dark like a flickering flame. Luna found that she did not want to speak to anyone today, even less than usual. Since her decision to run the switch, she had discovered a need for seclusion; she’d never had all that much time for the world, not even for her own family, although whenever she said this to Sam, he smiled as though he knew better. Although she thought that she would not mind speaking to Ver March…
With this in mind, Luna was annoyed to hear a pulse from her phone and to discover a text from Serena. Can you call me? It’s important. She didn’t want to. It had started to rain outside, heavy drops spattering over the roof of the wagon, and churning the earth to mud. Sam had taken one of the horses into Marlborough, to buy supplies at the Spar. Luna was on her own and wanting to stay that way, but she heard from Serena so rarely these days that she was afraid something might be wrong. After twenty minutes’ indecision, she picked up the phone and called her sister back, hoping that she’d get the answerphone.
But Serena replied.
“Luna! Thanks. I’m really sorry to bother you.” Of them all, Luna reflected, Serena had seemed to most understand how she felt. That made her feel prickly.
“You’re not bothering me,” Luna lied. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. But I had a dream.”
Immediately, Luna’s attention sharpened. She knew dreams. She could have this conversation, just not small talk. “What was it?”
She listened as Serena told her. There was no question in her mind that this was a true dream. It struck her that she needed to see Sam’s nan, tell her about it, and she did not pause to consider that it was an odd reaction, to want to discuss family business with someone she had met only once.
“Dartmoor. We’re in Wiltshire, now. We were heading down to Cornwall, though, before the winter.”
“I wasn’t sure where you were, Luna.”
“We’ve been up north. Yorkshire, Northumberland.”
The landscape was still with her: its vastness, ending in the thundering coast. The moors shadowed with heather and the sudden treasure of gorse, under racing cloud shadow. They’d visited a horse fair, Sam meeting cousins by the river race, although he didn’t seem to have much time for the most of the rest of the people there. Luna had found the scene interesting but unsafe, an undernote of aggression running through it, but she’d liked Sam’s quiet cousins. She did not explain to Serena about the Gipsy Switch, but she thought she might have to.
“I don’t know what to do with this, Luna.”
Luna felt a sudden surge of certainty and strength. “It means we have to go. I’ll talk to Sam. He’ll understand.”
“Will he?” Serena’s voice was filled with doubt.
“Yes. He gets it, Serena. He knows things about stuff.”
“Okay.” Serena sounded reassured and that made Luna feel good about the conversation. Maybe Sam had been right. Maybe she could be closer to her sisters than she’d thought.
“Talk soon,” Serena said. “I’ve got to go – Bella wants something. And take care of yourself.”
“You too,” Luna said and meant it.
Dartmoor. She put the phone down on the table and sat back. On the woodburning stove, the kettle began to shrill and she poured tea. She did not question the information: Serena had dreamed it and Alys had told her.
“You should have told me, Mum,” Luna said aloud. But perhaps Serena had been the only one she could reach, who knew why, and perhaps she had been prevented from speaking to anyone before now. Luna felt that this must be the case. Her mother would not simply have abandoned them, and from what Serena had said, Alys had seemed unwilling to expose them to danger. She had taken a big risk and – what? Failed? Succeeded? Luna could not say. But now they had a place: the moor. And where they had a place, they had a plan.
Stella
Light flooded in through the open curtains and Stella could hear a dove cooing in the eaves. She blinked. Survived the night, then. She knew she had been dreaming and those dreams had been disturbing, but she couldn’t remember a thing about them. She chased the memory, but she chased it away. Sighing, Stella climbed out of bed and went to the window to find one of those perfect October days waiting for her, a cloudless blue sky, with the leaves ablaze against it. One of the cats – Sable – was strolling across the lawn, tail held high like a lemur. Stella felt a sudden lift of the heart: her family were back, the day was waiting, there were plans to start putting into place. She thought she might go over to Amberley, speak to Caro and Laura.
Once dressed and downstairs, she found Bee up and about in the kitchen; her sister had always been an early riser and now here was Stella, following suit, for it was not yet eight.
“Toast? Tea?”
“Yes, please. You didn’t have any – visitors – last night?”
Bee shook her head. “I slept like the dead, to be honest. London tires me out. So does travelling. Stupid. It’s not even all that far.”
“I think it’s the psychic strain. Someone once told me that your astral self has a maximum speed of 30 mph. So yours has probably only just reached Trowbridge round about now.”
“Belting down the track…”
“Wheezing and gasping.”
“No wonder I’m tired. Oh, do get out from under my feet!” The last was addressed to a dog.
“What are your plans for the day, Bee?”
“I’ve got some work to do this morning. Catching up. I said I’d help Mrs Dyer with her accounts, and I’ve got to answer some emails. I have to pack up some books and wait for the courier. And do some laundry. Then I thought I might make some bread. Not a busy day. Although we ought to get some bags for the apples.”
“I was thinking of going to Amberley,” Stella said. “If you lend me the car, I can pick some up from Richard and Caro.”
“Good idea. When were you thinking of going over? If you wait till the afternoon, I’ll come with you. I need to have another look at those books of Julian’s.”
“Great,” Stella said. After the excitement of the previous day, she thought she could do with a quiet morning. She took Dawn Treader out to the sunlit garden bench and sat amongst the explosions of the dahlias, surrounded by bees.
The weather remained fine. Bee brought lunch out to the lawn and they ate soup and bread in a contemplative silence. With Nell present, neither Stella nor Bee wanted to discuss anything that might sound too weird, so they talked about impersonal things, instead, and where Nell might visit that afternoon.
“I could take a bus. I thought of Glastonbury, or maybe Cheddar.”
“Glastonbury’s got bookshops. And the Chalice Well, which would be lovely today. Cheddar – well, caves and cheese.”
“There’s a gorge at Cheddar, isn’t there?”
“Yes. And a lot of tourist tat, but the gorge itself is spectacular. I’m not sure about buses, though – if you want, we’ll go tomorrow, in the car. But it’s interesting. It’s been inhabited for thousands of years.”
“They found that bloke, didn’t they?” Stella said.
“Which bloke?”
“That maths teacher. They did DNA tests and it turned out he was a descendent of one of the original inhabitants. Thousands and thousands of years ago.”
“Wow,” Nell said.
“She’s right. He was astounded. There were people living in the caves, just after the ice retreated. They’ve found bones. Some of them were cannibals, but they drove horses and ancient cattle over the cliffs into the gorge and lived off the meat, too.”
“You mean to tell me that a descendent of someone who was living near here forty thousand years ago is – well, is?”
“Yes. I don’t think he’s a numpty, either,” Stella said. “Not if he teaches maths.”
“A –?”
“Think of the Appalachians. Ther
e’s a lot of inbreeding in Somerset. They put ‘NFB’ on patient charts in Taunton hospital.”
“‘NFB’?”
“Normal For Bridgwater.”
“Aw, that’s unkind,” Nell said, but she was smiling.
“True, though. Webbed feet and all sorts.”
“Well, our family’s been here for a good long while,” Bee said. “And we remain unwebbed.”
“I wouldn’t call us normal, though.” Thinking that she had perhaps said enough, Stella shut up and brushed an exploratory wasp from the cheese board.
“Actually, I think I’m just gonna sit out here this afternoon and write,” Nell said. “It’s so lovely.”
“We were going to Amberley,” Bee said. “You’re welcome to come.” But Nell shook her head.
Going to Amberley around the back lanes by car took almost as long as walking across the fields, but neither Stella nor Bee could carry a hundred apple sacks back. So they bumped down the lane, the recent rain having conjured muddy ruts, and through the ford at the bottom of the valley. Stella did not like driving through the ford, and she could tell that her sister was holding her breath. Serena had once, in a different car, got stuck and needed to be rescued by Landrover: it had taken an entire can of EasyStart to get the vehicle going again. Then the road climbed, heading up between steep sided, bramble twined hedges, to the rise on which Amberley stood.
At the back, out of sight of the main drive, stood the stables and the pony ring, which was where they were most likely to find Laura. But they went to the back door, all the same.
Caro, in jeans and Fair Isle, was bending over the Aga.
“Bloody thing,” she said, without turning round. “I thought it had gone out.”
“Ours does that,” Bee said.
Caro straightened up. “Stella! Nice to see you. I thought it was Laura.” She smiled at Bee, the more regular visitor. “Would you like tea? Something to eat?”
“We’ve just had lunch. We’d love some tea.”
“I’ll call Laura.” She went to the back door, and Stella followed: up on the slope she could see Cloud Chaser, running. The mare was like an animated chalk horse across the green swathe of the hill. “Laura!” Caro gave a stentorian bellow in the direction of the stables. “She’ll be a minute, I expect.”
“I spoke to Serena. She’s up for doing the little catwalk thing.”
“Brilliant! I’ve been banging the drum, as well. In addition to what we had already, we have two cake stalls and a man who makes Spanish doughnuts. And a nice burger stand – not the MacD’s sort. And someone who does Thai food.”
“And the orchestra?” Stella said.
“Yes. ‘Classy,’ you said. I’m trying to keep it that way.”
“In that vein,” Bee said, “I spoke to the person who took over the Astronomy Society from Grandpa, and they’re going to bring some exhibits about the planets.”
“That’s a really cool idea,” Stella said.
Her sister looked smug. “I thought so.”
Laura came through the kitchen door, smelling of horse.
“Oh, Bee. You’re back. Great.”
“I spoke to Tam Stare,” Caro said and Stella pricked up her ears. “He’s up for doing a marquee. He’s supposed to be over later, with some equipment for Richard.”
Bee and Stella gave polite smiles, and Stella felt grateful for her sister’s implicit support. She hoped to avoid Stare – he was trouble, she knew it, and that sense of getting away from old worn-out patterns was still at the forefront of her mind. So she was not pleased when there was the sudden roar of a Landrover from the yard and through the window she saw Tam Stare himself jump down.
“Caro,” he said, coming in through the back door. “All right?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Tam.”
“I’ve brought Dana with me.” He did not explain, or apologise. Treating the place like your own, aren’t you? Stella thought, bristling. From this angle, she could not see Caro’s face. A girl came through the kitchen door, her black hair shining like her leather coat in the sunlight. She looked pale, punk, urban; even her lips were bloodless. She looked Stella up and down and then she gave a little smile. Stella was suddenly aware that she had put no makeup on that morning. Caro said, “Tam, did you bring the stuff? Shall I come and have a look? Laura, could you give me a hand?” The Amberley women went out into the yard, leaving Bee and Stella with Dana.
“Hello.” The voice was cool, confident.
No wonder Serena doesn’t like you, Stella thought. I don’t, either. And there was something familiar about the fan of black hair, the pointed pale face. I’ve seen you before.
Dana sat down, uninvited, at the table. She looked with mild, slightly insolent interest at Stella and Bee. “Don’t think we know each other, do we?” If she and Stella had met, she gave no sign of it now.
Stella gave her a chilly smile. “I don’t think so, no.” There was a pause.
Bee, always more prepared to be gracious, said, “I’m Beatrice Fallow. Bee. This is my sister, Stella.”
“I’m Dana. I know your sister. Serena. And Ben, of course.”
“I don’t think she’s mentioned you,” Stella lied.
Dana just looked at her, a flat black gaze, and Stella knew that the girl had detected the lie. “Really. We’re such good friends.” She spoke with indifference, as though it did not matter whether Stella believed her or not. Then she looked up, all sparkling friendliness. “Laura, hi, sweetie! How was your ride?”
“Good, thank you.” Laura was polite. Then she said, “Stella, Bee, I wondered if you’d like to come out and see the new jumps? Bee, do you remember I was telling you about having problems with that electric fencing and I wanted to ask you…”
With relief, Stella rose and they followed Laura out to the yard. Caro and Tam were bending over some crates, filled with what looked like mowing blades. As Stella walked passed, Tam looked up at her and winked. Stella gave him a stony stare; she was unwilling to entertain any suggestion of complicity. She thought of Dark, and Tam seemed to recede against the sunlight, grow smaller. Stella, with surprise, realised that this had nothing to do with the spirit’s attractiveness: it was, suddenly, as though she had a brother. Dark slotted into place in her personal constellation, fitting easily and without conflict. She felt her spirits rise, but even so, it was a relief to get into the stable yard; it felt like sanctuary. A long chestnut face with a white blaze peered over the first half door. He blew at Stella, who went across and murmured to him. There were eleven horses in all, some grazing up on the slope, some here. Something very soothing about horses, thought Stella, though not necessarily when you were on board one of them. She followed Laura’s tall, retreating figure through the gate and up onto the hillside.
Looking back, Amberley lay in a slight hollow. She could see the long beds of lavender, a hazy mauve against the green, and the golden trees. From here, too, she could see Mooncote, like a blown leaf in the dip of the valley, and the square tower of the church. The river was a bright thread through the landscape.
“I see what you mean,” Stella said to Laura. “About Dana Stare. I didn’t take to her.” And then it came to her. The sudden blast of light, and a girl rising from hands and knees. Ibiza. The girl who had dropped her lighter in the yard behind Nightside. Stella had thought nothing of it at the time, had forgotten. But now it came back, with new significance.
She said nothing to Bee or Laura. She wanted to mull it over a bit first.
Bee said, “I didn’t take to her, either. She felt clammy.”
“She did?”
“I don’t mean, physically. Although she doesn’t look the sort for a firm handshake. Psychically.”
“I know what you mean,” Stella said, and Laura nodded.
The ring was impressive. One of the yard girls was taking a pony around it as they watched; a roan with a rolling gait. Laura looked at her critically, but forebore from comment.
“Where’s Cloud?” B
ee asked.
“In her stable. I rode her out this morning.”
“You said something about doing pony rides at this apple day?”
“Probably. Yes. Mum’s got a lot of ideas. You know what she’s like when she’s organising something. She wants you do put some music together for the afternoon, Stel. Before the classical bit later on.”
“I know. I’ve sorted it.”
When they went back down to the house, the Stares had gone. Caro was making more tea. Stella did not want to mention Dana to Caro; she thought that Laura would do that particular job for her, if need be.
Serena
She had nearly finished the collection and, finally, Serena was verging on being pleased. She gazed out at butterflies and roses, moths and moons. Mossy tumbles of wool curved along collars; embroidered lichen climbed up from hems. The froth of wave foam spilled from a sea coloured gown, etched with tiny cowries and a shoulder strap of overblown roses decorated a garnet sheath. The collection, seen on the rehearsal catwalk, was a mixture of darkness and light, night and day; Serena’s vision finally coming together as though a thread had been pulled, bringing it tight. She was not, yet, able to relax, but she did feel as though she might be starting to calm down. Finally.
“I think it’s awesome.” Charlotte was impressed. Serena eyed her askance.
“Since when did you start using words like ‘awesome’?”
“Sorry. I think it’s the evil influence of the internet.”
Serena squinted across at Charlie’s notes as they sat in the front row.
“That taffeta skirt – that worked better than I thought.”
“I like that. And I like the mossy green thing.”
Serena smiled. Sage and forest: Spica had inspired that. She’d wondered before how much of a formative influence the Behenian stars had been: her own private collection of muses. More than she’d realised, perhaps.
