Nan squeezes my hand.
‘I’ve prepared your old room for you. Freshen up, and then we can have tea.’
I nod, thank Jake, give Nan a quick kiss on the cheek and wheel my two heavy suitcases inside. The porcelain tiled entrance, filled only with a carved mahogany entrance table and umbrella stand, leads into a hallway which splits the house dead-centre. At the front of the mansion, leading off both sides of the entrance hall, are two living rooms, both formally decorated in Victorian style with a touch of Dutch Delft influence. Huge glass windows overlook the front porch and sloping, landscaped gardens.
Down the hallway, in the right wing, are Nan’s apartments and to the left, a vacant visitors suite – at least I think it’s still vacant - judging by what I can see, nothing has changed since I left. I know if I walk all the way down the hallway, I will reach the kitchen, with its cottage-pane windows overlooking the forest behind and an attached formal dining room, complete with long hardwood dining table.
On the left of the entrance hall is the wooden staircase that leads up to the floor my parents and I had occupied. I grab hold of both my suitcases and wheel them behind me, one stair at a time to the landing at the top. There, I step across the passageway into the first room.
What had once been my nursery, overlooking the front of the house and lush forest stretching toward the Severn River, is now a cosy bedroom with an uncanny resemblance to my bedroom at home.
In the middle of the room is a queen size, mahogany bed, flanked on either side by a bedside table. At the opposite end of the room is a matching wardrobe and desk. There is a door off to one side of the bed, through which I can see a pristine white bathroom and in the parallel corner, a leather wing-back chair.
The furnishings are elegant, but it is the thoughtful touches of home that makes me draw in an appreciative breath. Beside the window, is a large tree-like potted plant I cannot name and on each of the bedside tables, two small pots of colorful chrysanthemums.
A gentle breeze stirs the chiffon curtains at the bay window. I glide across the room, sink onto the quaint window seat and run my fingers along the suede white upholstery, while I let my eyes take in the exquisite view.
Stretching toward the horizon in every direction is the forest and rolling countryside, magnificent in the glory of springtime, dense in some areas, and in others just empty meadows and farmland. A line of dark green bushes separates Nan’s property from her only neighbors and just in front of the porch, a fountain flows into a large pond which trickles in three levels toward the street.
Outside the window, close enough to touch is a large oak tree that throws its afternoon shadow halfway across the room. The tree makes me think of another one, somewhere deep within the surrounding forest, whose bark I used to run my fingers over and whose branches I used to fall asleep beneath.
The contrast to my city home is striking in many ways but none more so than the incredible silence. In Joburg, even on the quietest days, there is always the drone of traffic in the distance or the bark of a neighborhood dog to break the stillness. I close my eyes and try to listen but there is only the sound of my own breathing, the gentle cadence of the fountain below and the rise and fall of Nan and Jake’s voices.
I glance down to the driveway where they stand talking and pause, thoughtfully. Jake and Nan are not touching, but there is something intimate in their bodies, angled toward each other and the slight shortage of distance between them. There is a comfort between them that could only be borne from years of deep friendship – or something more…
The thought of my grandmother in a relationship is difficult for me to reconcile. She is too independent to need a man, although I know that at one time, she was married. I never knew my grandfather, since he died when my mother was very young, but I remember how Nan always kept his tobacco pipe on her bedside table. It’s seems like something you’d only do if you missed someone very much and my mother had always warned me that when a Greene woman fell in love, it was always hard.
With a sigh, I reign in my runaway thoughts and turn back to glance around the room. My gaze falls on the two suitcases standing by the door. I consider unpacking them but decide they can wait. I rummage in my back-pack for the spare set of clothes I always travel with, just in case my luggage goes astray, and head for the bathroom.
When I enter the kitchen, Nan is sitting at the granite kitchen counter, staring out the back window that overlooks her stone-walled herb garden. She turns at the sound of my footsteps on the tiled floor, smiles and gestures to a stool on the opposite side of the counter. In between us, on the counter-top, stands a clear glass vase with a handful of bluebells. Beside the vase are two plates with two iced chocolate cupcakes, one of which sports a single, lit candle. Nan has gone to such thoughtful lengths to welcome me that I am filled with guilt and cannot stop the tears from pooling in my eyes.
‘I missed your birthday,’ she says as she pushes a porcelain cup and saucer toward me.
‘I hope you still drink mint tea?’ she asks. ‘It was always your favorite.’
I don’t have the heart to tell her that the only tea I’ve had for the past ten years is Rooibos, so I nod and pull the cup in front of me. The steam rising from my mug smells fresh and fragrant. I take a tentative sip and decide it’s a decent enough substitute to replace my staple Rooibos, at least until I’m able to find one of those South African shops Jenne told me about.
‘Make your wish,’ Nan prompts.
I glance up at her expectant face, then at the candle-lit cupcake. I close my eyes, think of home, lean forward, and blow out the candle. When I open my eyes, Nan is holding out a small box to me and I’m flooded with guilt again.
‘Happy birthday, Bluebell,’ she says.
‘But I already got your cheque, Nan -’
‘I know, but this is a special birthday.’
The words remind me of the day before my birthday, when I was sitting in the car with my mother. I push the memory aside as I take the box from Nan and lift the lid. Inside, is a silver locket. It looks like a family heirloom that has been passed down reverently through many generations.
‘It was your mother’s,’ Nan says, ‘and mine before that, and my mother’s before that.’
I lift the piece carefully from the box and hold it up to the light. The locket is oval-shaped, but instead of the photo I expect to see inside it, between the fine, cage-like twirls, I can see something that looks like dried herbs. I bring the silver to my nose, take a sniff and give Nan a quizzical look.
‘It’s sage,’ she explains, ‘for protection.’
When I raise my eyebrows further, she sighs, takes the locket from me and lowers it gently back into its box. She reaches across the grey counter top to place her cool hand over mine.
‘I know you have a lot of questions Bluebell,’ she says, ‘but first, I must see it.’
I know immediately what she is referring to, so I stand, lift the soft hem of my sweater and shirt and reveal the grey butterfly marking on my belly.
‘Tofa,’ Nan breathes, ‘I never thought I would live to see the prophecy fulfilled.’
She stands and comes round the counter, to peer closely at the marking. Her expression is intense as she studies it, her fingers move in the air before me, tracing the curves of the marking without touching me, then she frowns.
‘Interesting…’ she mumbles.
‘What is it, Nan?’ I ask, but she appears to be so deep in thought, I don’t think she hears me.
‘A five-fold,’ she says, more to herself that to me. Her frown deepens and she turns her emerald gaze up to mine. Something in her expression makes me draw in a quick breath.
‘What does it mean?’
Nan opens her mouth, stops and considers me for a moment before she continues:
‘The five-fold is an ancient Celtic symbol,’ she explains. ‘It represents the four elements, the four directions and the four seasons, joined and balanced by the fifth element.’
She says ‘fifth element’ with more than a little touch of awe. I wait, expecting her to go on, since this really doesn’t make any sense to me, but she doesn’t. She’s holding back and I’m starting to get impatient. Mom and Dad said she would give me answers and now I want to hear them.
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘but how does it relate to me, Nan? How did it get onto my skin? What does it mean and what is this prophecy you’re talking about?’
Nan sighs and gives me an apologetic smile.
‘Bluebell, I know you’ve been waiting for answers and I promise, you will get them…but not right now.’
‘What?’ I say, a little rudely because now I’m really getting frustrated with all these secrets. ‘But mom and dad said you would explain to me.’
‘And I will,’ she promises. ‘You will get your answers tonight.’
‘But -’
My complaint is cut short by the shrill ring of the telephone that is mounted on the wall beside the window. I want to rip it off its mounting and dunk it in the sink. Why is everyone refusing to tell me what is going on? And who the hell has such bad timing to call now?
‘Excuse me,’ Nan says as she steps away and lifts the receiver.
‘Darling!’ she exclaims, a huge smile breaking over her face and I know it’s my mother on the other end of the line. Figures.
‘Yes,’ Nan says, ‘all safe and sound…she’s right here…certainly…’
She holds the receiver out to me. I look at it, then at Nan and say:
‘Can we please finish our conversation?’
Nan frowns at me.
‘Your mother wants to talk to you, Shaylee.’
‘She can wait.’
‘Shaylee Greene!’ Nan says. Her expression is shocked. She hasn’t seen me since age seven and I guess I was much sweeter and obedient then, but I’m too fed up to care.
‘I’m sorry, Nan,’ I say, but my tone is surly and non-repentant. ‘I’ve been waiting for days and I want some answers!’
‘I told you, Shaylee,’ she says, patient but firm, ‘You will get them tonight. Right now, I want you to talk to your mother.’
She holds the receiver out to me again and I glare at it, and then back at her. She’s wearing the same expression my dad did when he told me I would be coming to Aylburton and I know I won’t be getting any answers now. The thought just makes me angry. Damn my mother! Why is she always interfering?
‘I don’t want to speak to her,’ I say. I turn and stomp out of the kitchen.
When I reach my bedroom, I kick the door shut and fall onto the window seat, scowling. I mutter a few curses, and then do what I always do when I’m angry and need to vent; I whip my cell phone from my jeans pocket and dial my best friend.
‘It’s about time,’ she says after the second ring. ‘So I guess you arrived safely then?’
‘Yeah,’ I mumble crossly.
‘Whoa, what’s up?’ she says, immediately picking up on my mood.
‘They still won’t tell me a thing!’
‘But, I thought -’
‘Yeah, well, so did I but now Nan says I have to wait for tonight.’
‘But why?’
‘How should I know? It’s probably my mother who told her not to say anything.’
‘Shaylee…’
‘No, seriously. She just knows exactly when to call and how to piss me off -’
‘Whoa there, tiger,’ Jenne says, ‘you’re not making any sense.’
‘How can I when I don’t have a clue about what’s happening?’ I’m nearly shouting by the end of my sentence, I’m so irritated. There is a short silence on the other end of the line, then she starts saying something but I don’t hear what it is because there is a knock on my bedroom door.
‘Hang on a sec,’ I say to Jenne, cutting her off mid-sentence.
‘Yes, Nan?’ I say through the closed door.
‘Can I come in?’ she asks. I sigh, shake my head and close my eyes. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture.
‘Sorry but I’m on the phone right now,’ I say and brace myself, expecting a tirade. There is a pause, and Nan just says:
‘Alright dear, but be downstairs at seven, Jake is coming to fetch us for Circle.’
What on earth is Circle, I think but I just say: ‘Okay,’ and wait for the sound of footsteps before I lift the phone to my ear again.
‘Sorry Jen, where were we?’
‘We were getting nowhere and you were working yourself up into a tiz,’ she says. ‘You’ve got to calm down, Shaylee. There’s nothing you can do until tonight so just relax and take it in stride.’
‘God I miss you,’ I say. She is my voice of reason and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. Only Jenne knows how to snap me out of my self-pity charades.
‘Talk about a topic change,’ she laughs, and then quiets into a more serious tone. ‘So what’s happening tonight?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ I say, ‘but Nan said something about Circle.’
There is a strange pause, and Jenne says in a funny voice:
‘Circle? What’s that?’
‘How should I know?’
Another pause.
‘What time are you leaving?’
‘Seven.’
‘Will you call me after?’
‘Sure,’ I say, ‘if we’re not back too late, otherwise tomorrow?’
‘Perfect, cheers,’ Jenne says.
‘Bye, my friend,’ I say, and hang up the call.
I drop my phone onto the bed and check the time on my wrist-watch: six thirty.
‘Better get ready,’ I say to myself, but instead of following my own instructions, I move to the bedside table, pick up my trusted Five notebook and flip to the last page. I write the word: ‘Circle,’ and follow it with three question marks.
Chapter 8
Shock
Tastes like: The first bite of lemon.
Smells like: Ammonia.
Sounds like: A gasp.
Feels like: Icy fingers on sleep-warmed skin.
Looks like: The tiny jerk of muscles when startled.
At precisely seven pm, Jake pulls into the driveway to collect us for Circle. Nan radiates disapproval as she gets into the front passenger seat beside him and I slide into the back of the Mercedes. She hasn’t said anything to me about my mother’s phone call yet but her feelings are clear. I think I’ve shocked her. Maybe she still expected me to be the same little girl I was when we left Aylburton. I’m not.
Jake glances between us, and draws Nan into a conversation about someone named Kent. I listen for a while as they discuss this person, who seems to have gotten into trouble at school for playing some kind of a prank, but since I don’t know him, I lose interest quickly and block out their words as I stare out the window at the magnificent scenery.
Everything looks so green. It’s a different green from what I’m used to, much more verdant than the olive shades of home. The sky is brilliant against the jewel-toned tree-line; birds soar above us and flit between the tree-tops and the brilliant colors of spring blooms catch my eye, blurring into rainbows as we speed by.
The bluebells must be resplendent now; I can’t wait to take my first walk amongst them. I can almost feel their velvet-silk between my toes and it fills me with the warmth of home…Home…I shake my head and bury the memories back where they belong – deep in the past. I may once have lived here, but it is not my home and never will be again.
Nan suddenly lets loose a chortle and my attention snaps back to the conversation in the front of the car. I wonder what Jake has said to make my grandmother laugh and marvel at how, somehow, in the space of seconds, he has changed Nan’s mood from censure to mirth.
Jake winks at me in the rearview mirror and I stare back in surprise. It’s just a wink, but it feels like so much more; a promise of support, a pledge of allegiance from an unexpected corner. I don’t have time to think about it though because the car rolls to a stop outside a quaint little Church with stain
ed glass windows.
We get out of the sleek Mercedes and I follow Nan and Jake, across the neat lawn and around a carefully tended flowerbed of yellow daffodils. We walk straight past the picturesque chapel to a second, newer building behind it and as we near the open door, I hear the quiet murmur of voices.
When we step through the entryway, the conversation stops. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust from the sunshine to the dimly lit interior, and then I see that we’re in a large hall. In the centre of the room, a handful of metal folding tables are arranged in a make-shift horse-shoe pattern. There are a handful of people there, maybe fifteen, standing behind their chairs, watching me. I duck my head self-consciously and follow Nan and Jake to the three remaining chairs at the curve of the horse shoe.
‘Ta failte romhat,’ Nan says when she is standing behind her seat at the head of the group.
‘Mo Bann Ri,’ the assembly replies in unison.
Nan takes her seat and the rest of us follow. She turns and says something to the woman beside her.
Everyone’s attention seems to be on Nan so I take a quick glance around the group. They look to be a random bunch, varied in age and gender but I am struck by the sudden realization that, for once, I am not the shortest person in the room. Everyone here looks to be about my height – and each one possesses the same fragility that has been my bane in life.
‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, interrupting my perusal of the party and drawing everyone’s attention back to me. ‘What I am going to tell you will be unbelievable but I ask you to keep an open mind and to trust me - to trust us.’ She gestures around the room. ‘It is time you knew the truth: of who you are and of your destiny.’
Nan takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders in a regal posture.
Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) Page 5
