Cupid's Arrow

by Isabelle Merlin

  Mum sighed. 'I don't think she's afraid of you, but of him getting in too deep too young.' Her tone changed. 'I'm afraid of that too, Fleur. It's dangerous. You're only sixteen.'

  'Going on seventeen,' I retorted.

  'This isn't Romeo and Juliet, you know. This is real life.'

  'I thought you believed in romance and magic,' I said flippantly.

  She frowned. 'Don't be silly, Fleur. You know very well what I mean. You don't want to get too serious at your age. It's not a good idea.'

  'Who said we were getting serious?' I lied, changing tack. 'If she thinks that, she's silly. We're just friends. Good friends. Really good friends. Why shouldn't he have a good friend?'

  Mum looked at me sharply. 'Are you sure that's all it is?'

  I shrugged. 'It is on my side, anyway,' I said, carelessly, while my heart raced painfully. I didn't want to say those things, but I had a feeling I had to, or Mum would get spooked too and I'd be forbidden from seeing him. And I couldn't bear that.

  'What about him, though? Maybe that's why she's worried. Maybe he's misread things. He sounds like an intense sort of boy from what you describe. And he's not had much to do with people his own age – maybe not even people in general at all, brought up like that.'

  'I don't think so,' I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. 'He's fine. It's just her. I think she's unbalanced. I think she might think too that what we've been doing is dangerous. I mean the investigation.'

  'Why should it be? Oh,' said my mother, as the meaning of my words sank in, 'you mean the discovery you think Raymond made might be connected with his death? But surely – surely no-one would kill anyone for that sort of thing.'

  'It would be an amazing discovery. Whoever made it would be world-famous.'

  'Only to people who care about things like that.'

  'And there's lots and lots of them. You know that! It would be headline news in every newspaper. You could write a book about it that would sell millions. It would be like The Da Vinci Code, only real.'

  'Yes, but to kill someone for it?'

  'Plus the coin, if it exists, would be priceless.'

  'Yes, but you couldn't sell it or anything. It would have to go in a museum.'

  'Not if some nut got hold of it first. Someone who might believe it was magic, or something. Someone who'd be prepared to pay any price to own the coin that proved the existence of King Arthur in Avallon. You know there are people like that around.'

  Mum looked troubled. 'I suppose there are, but –' she broke off, then went on – 'Anyway, Fleur, what you're arguing certainly doesn't help your case. If what you say is true, then Remy's mother is right to be worried about you and him meddling in something that could be very dangerous. I must say I agree with her motive then, if not her method.'

  'She doesn't need to worry,' I said, hastily. 'And neither do you. Because we'll stop meddling, as you call it. We won't go near it. We'll give the dream book to the police and they can sort it out and see whether they think there's anything to our theory. How about that?'

  'Hmm,' said Mum. 'It certainly sounds like the sensible option. I'm sure if she knew that, she might feel better about it all.'

  I nodded, eagerly. 'Yes, that's right. Mum, I want to go and tell her now. I want her to understand, so she doesn't need to worry.'

  Mum shook her head. 'No, Fleur. I am not going to let you do that.'

  I stared at her. 'What?'

  'You are not going there on your own,' she said firmly. 'Not after that performance this evening. It would worry me to let you go on your own to face God knows what.'

  'But Mum! That's not fair!' I wailed. 'It's not my fault, or Remy's, that she went off the deep end! Why should that mean we can't be friends? It's just so unfair.'

  'Wait. I haven't finished. If you really want to go and see her, then I will come with you. I will talk with her, try to see what the matter really is, see if we can sort things out. But not now,' she added, as I made as if to speak. 'It's far too late. And we've got to give her time to simmer down. We'll go tomorrow morning. And that's final, Fleur.'

  I knew that tone. It was final. I knew I had to abide by her decision – or run the risk of never being allowed to see Remy again. Mum was quite capable of just deciding we would leave Bellerive straightaway, if she felt like it. Plus I have to admit that I was relieved by the thought of her coming with me to face that crazy woman. So I agreed, and we left it at that, and went back to our delayed dinner. The others all looked at us as we came in, but thankfully nobody asked us any questions, or made any further comment on what had happened, and I was glad.

  After dinner I went up to bed pretty early and stood at my window for quite a while, hoping against hope that Remy would go against his mother and come to see me. I wished I could see him and Patou slipping through the shadows at the end of the park, like I did the other night. But there was nothing. Only the rustle of the wind in the trees, and the scream of the fox in the distance, and the shifting patterns of moonlight on the ground.

  Eventually I went to bed and lay there tossing and turning, thinking over everything that had happened. The more I thought about Valerie Gomert's reaction, the weirder it seemed. She hadn't given me a chance to explain. And she'd looked at me as though I wasn't me, but a threat, an enemy, literally. She was quite obviously mad, I thought. I mean yeah, of course she'd be affected by what had happened to her family, but that was way back when and in another country and it had nothing to do with Remy and me being friends. Maybe living in the woods away from everyone had seemed a good idea at the time but it sure hadn't helped her mental state, if she flipped like that over nothing. Well, even if she was worried about Remy and I trying to look into that Riothamus stuff, she just had to say so, for God's sake.

  Maybe, I thought, maybe she's gone crazy because she thinks I'm leading him astray, into doing things she doesn't approve of, like investigating stuff. I remembered what Remy had said, about how he'd like to go into the police but didn't dare to tell his mother because he was afraid of how she'd react. I hadn't really understood it then, but I could understand it now. And it chilled me to the bone. I'd told him that I couldn't tell my mother about my fantasy of going into ASIO and that sort of stuff, but that was different. Mum would not be happy – she would be disappointed – and it's not an easy thing to cope with a parent being disappointed, they can make you feel real bad about it – but it's not like being scared of someone actually going crazy. Remy was actually scared. And he had good reason to be. Who's to know what she might do, if she really lost it?

  I finally dropped off into an uneasy sleep, punctuated by lots of annoying little dreams that I didn't really remember the details of when I woke up. They were the kind too that make you feel like you've hardly slept at all, so you feel kind of yuck when you wake up. As soon as I'd had my shower, I went looking for Mum and found her in the kitchen reading The Discovery of King Arthur and drinking a cup of coffee. Christine Foy was in the kitchen too, reading the paper and eating toast. She smiled at me.

  'Are you okay?'

  'Fine,' I lied.

  'Your mother tells me you're going to go and see her.'

  For a moment, I didn't know what she meant. 'What? Oh, right.'

  'I just said too that if you needed any more moral support –'

  'Oh, no! I mean, thanks,' I said, hastily, 'but it's okay. Really.'

  'Take care, then, won't you? I've told Anne she should take a phone with her or something. Just in case.'

  'For heaven's sake, Christine,' said Mum, closing her book with a snap. 'What do you think the woman's going to do, physically attack us? She's probably ashamed of her outburst by now. Don't worry, we'll sort it out.'

  'Can we go now, Mum?'

  'You haven't had your breakfast.'

  'I don't feel hungry. Mum. Please.'

  'Okay, then.' She heaved herself out of her chair. 'I must say I feel tired this morning. Didn't sleep very well.'

  'Neither did I.'

 
; 'I'm not surprised,' said Christine, taking a hearty bite of her toast. 'You poor things. People like that woman, they should be locked up. Good luck, anyway.'

  We went out of the house and down to the river path. Mum was pretty quiet for a bit, then she started talking to me, not about Remy or his mother, but about The Discovery of King Arthur and how fascinating it all was and how she really hoped it was true and that Raymond had found real evidence. She said that in her view it was very unlikely anyone had attacked him for that reason because if that was so, why attack the private investigator too? I said that maybe the PI had known about the coin too and where Raymond had it, but she thought that was unlikely, you wouldn't tell a PI that, but you might tell your solicitor, and that she thought Nicolas Boron might know more about the subject than he was letting on. Maybe, I said, but then why had Raymond consulted the PI in the first place? Who knows, she said, it could be anything, just anything, maybe he wanted to check up on someone. Or track someone down. Or anything, really. It was possible Nicolas knew that too, she said, and she'd ask him about it once we'd come back.

  I hadn't thought of all those things and I have to say it made a kind of sense. Maybe we had been making too much of things. Maybe Raymond really had been killed by a burglar and the fact that he'd consulted a PI was nothing to do with it. But the police seemed to want to follow it up. Probably just because they had to cover every base though. But then why hadn't there been anything found in Raymond's papers about his Riothamus/Arthur research, and why had his laptop and files been taken but not his valuable things? I wanted to believe it had nothing to do with the Arthur stuff because, although I'd said I'd give up on it – and I was quite prepared to do that – I was still intrigued by it, and would like to have gone to the heart of the mystery myself. I couldn't do that if it was linked to actual deaths – I knew that now – I had to leave it to the police and not meddle, just like Mum had said.

  We went past our willow hideout and I felt a real pang, thinking of what it was like yesterday, and the feel of Remy's arms around me, his lips on mine, the warmth of his skin. It didn't matter what it took to persuade his mad mother, I just had to make her change her mind. I just had to. Or I thought my heart would break. I could feel pain in me already. A sore feeling under my ribs. A weird lump in my throat. A heaviness in my limbs.

  It felt like ages, getting to their house, and every step seemed slow, but in reality we were going quite fast. At least I was, and several times Mum told me to wait up and not race like that. I hadn't realised I had been racing. It just felt like the distance was hardly lessening, like in a dream when you run and run and yet you never get anywhere. But at last we arrived in the clearing in the woods and saw the house, standing serenely in its fenced patch of vegetable garden, just like it had that day I first saw it. It was very quiet. There was no sign of anyone about, and no smoke coming out of the chimney. But as we opened the gate and went down the path, I could see the door was slightly open. My heart started to hammer painfully, my palms prickled. It was one thing to talk about confronting Valerie Gomert and get her to see reason, it was quite another to actually be here, about to do it. I couldn't help hanging back just a little. But Mum had no such fears and she came sailing past me and pushed open the door, calling out, in French, 'Hello? Hello, Valerie? Remy? It's Anne and Fleur Griffon. We've come to talk to you.'

  Her words fell on empty air. There was no-one in the kitchen. The fire seemed to have gone out, but there was a pot of something sitting on the wood stove. There were neat bunches of herbs lying on the table, and a mug full of cold tea. Something about that room, I couldn't say exactly what, made me feel suddenly uneasy. I went through into the next room, Mum following at my heels, and stopped.

  There was such a mess in there. The table where Valerie Gomert had sat near the window was overturned. There were papers scattered everywhere. I recognised some of them – the sketches she'd been making for that new Bellerive tarot pack. But they weren't just scattered about. Someone had scribbled on them, attacking the faces with rough, violent charcoal strokes. And two of the paintings that had been on the wall were also lying on the floor. They too were scribbled on, ruined, the frames smashed. The destruction, the malice, the cold fury of it, I can hardly, properly describe, only that it scared me out of my wits.

  For an instant, we were too stunned to react. Then Mum said, 'My God, what's happened here?' and I ran from the room into the others, calling out to Remy, sure something terrible had happened, that Valerie had flipped completely and ...

  But there was no-one in either of the bedrooms, the laundry, or the back garden. I raced out of the gate, yelling, Remy, Remy, where are you? Where are you? Mum came puffing after me, calling Valerie. No-one answered. Noone came running. At last Mum said, 'Look, Fleur, there's no-one here. We'll have to go back.'

  'No.' The lump in my throat was like a cold stone, the feeling in my chest like a band of iron. 'I've got to find him. I know something happened. I know it, Mum.'

  It was then I saw it. Something white, fluttering on a bush a short distance from the back gate of the house. I ran over to look at it. It was a piece of cloth. Thin, flimsy white cloth, like that stuff those embroidered Indian shirts you find in hippie shops are made of. There was a small stain on it. A small brown stain. I pulled it off the bush and as I did so I had the strangest sensation. My head suddenly started spinning so that I thought I would fall and my ears suddenly filled with sound, with a roaring and a thumping and it scared me so much that I dropped the cloth as though it had burned my fingers.

  Mum came running up. She picked up the piece of cloth where it had fluttered down and she looked at it, and at the brown stain. She said, 'I'm calling the police,' and produced the Blackberry from her pocket. I remember thinking, numbly, so she did bring it after all, she did expect trouble, but then she stopped dialling and stared down the woodland path, which began a little distance away from us, and she said, in a weird tone of voice I had never heard her use before, 'Stay there, Fleur. And don't move.'

  I couldn't have moved. I was shaking too much. Mum walked away from me, down the path, and then quite suddenly I saw her take a step off the path. I heard her gasp. I saw her bend down, and I saw the uncontrollable movement she made, and I began to run. The breath whistled in my throat, the branches whipped past me, the bushes clawing at me, my heart had taken over my body, terror greater than I had thought possible propelling me to where Mum knelt in the undergrowth, her shoulders stiff with shock.

  And there was the body, half-hidden under leaves just off the side of the path. It was lying on its front, arms flung to either side, as if pleading. You couldn't see the face, but the pony-tailed hair was matted with dried blood, which had soaked into the top of the loose white shirt. The feet were bare, dirty and scratched, the hands clawing at the earth.

  All this I saw in the blink of an eye. All this and one thing more: for there was an arrow firmly embedded in the base of the neck, just where it meets the spine. You didn't need to bend down and touch the body, feel how cold it was, you didn't need to have any medical knowledge of any sort, to know that it was far too late, that there was nothing we could do, and that Valerie Gomert was quite, quite dead.

  Gone

  Everything's a bit of a blur straight after that. I know Mum made calls – to Bellerive Manor, to the police, to the ambulance – and I remember standing there like a statue of ice, unable to drag my eyes away from Valerie Gomert's body, till Mum gently took my arm and led me away, back to the house. She made me sit outside while she went and got me a glass of water from inside but I couldn't just sit there, all I could think of was Valerie lying there dead and Remy nowhere to be found, the bow missing from its place on the kitchen wall and the arrows gone too, except for that one ... I saw the faces of the Bellerive Tarot scribbled over and Valerie's own face scribbled over too, but with blood, and I could feel my gorge rising.

  I was sick. My insides turning inside out and upside down, a burning pain under my ribs w
here my heart used to be and a roaring in my ears which wouldn't stop. When I was spent and couldn't throw up anymore, Mum put her arm around me and helped me up. She wiped my mouth gently with a tissue and gave me some water to drink, and then she held me, just held me, and didn't say anything. Nothing like it's going to be all right, or don't worry, or stupid things like that. It's funny, I always thought it was Mum who lived in a dream world and if any crisis came I would be the one who'd have to cope, but it just shows how wrong you can be, how stupid and naive. Actually, I was weak and useless and hopeless, just staring and shaking and spewing, and nothing in any of the crime novels I'd read or the crime shows I'd seen had prepared me for what it was like, what it was really like, to see a dead body, to see violent death up close.

  'Remy,' I said, at last. My voice was hoarse, croaky, my throat stung. 'Remy. You've got to find him. Whoever's done this ... Mum, he's in danger too. They'll be after him too. They –'

  'Oh, Fleur,' said Mum, and there was such pity in her voice that it frightened me.

  I pushed away from her and said, 'Why are you looking like that? Why is your voice like that? You have to find Remy.'

  'I know,' she said, and her voice was very sad.

  'He's hiding,' I said. 'He's been running. He's so scared.' In my mind I could see him, running, running through the woods like a deer with a merciless hunter on his trail. I could see him crashing through the woods, the branches whipping at him, the brambles tearing at his bare feet, the breath pounding in his chest. Running for his life. It was so vivid, that picture, so vivid, and yet it was like the one in my dream, and my head started spinning again, my ears roaring. I said, 'I think he has gone to the Lady's House,' and suddenly my head filled up with darkness and I felt myself falling. Mum caught me just before I fainted.

  I came to a little while later and there were Oscar and Christine, who'd run all the way from the manor after they'd got Mum's phone call. Wayne and Laurie had apparently been out, in Avallon or somewhere. They talked in whispers to Mum and I couldn't hear most of what they were saying, but I thought they looked pityingly at me too. Then the Avallon police and the paramedics came. The police – two detectives and a pathologist – came in on motorbikes but the paramedics had had to leave their ambulance parked on the other side of the woods and bring their stretcher on foot. It was shorter in that way than through Bellerive but they were quite clearly displeased that someone should have had the lack of consideration to live – or die – so far from a bitumen road. Anyway, they didn't have much to do; their skills were for the living, not the dead. They gave me a sedative of some sort and wanted to give Mum one but she said she didn't need it, and there was a bit of a tussle about whether I should go to hospital and be treated for shock but in the end they decided I probably didn't need it.