by Pat Spence
“Hi Theo.”
“Hi Emily. You played well.”
“Thank you.”
My resolve began to waiver as I looked into his blue eyes. He had the beginnings of very tiny smile lines at the corner of his eyes, I noticed, giving him a maturity I hadn’t seen in other boys. Shards of sunlight crept through the shadows and shone on his face, giving his perfect ivory skin a translucence I hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to shimmer.
“Have you been watching long?” I asked him.
“Long enough.”
He stared at me with such a look of tenderness and longing, it took my breath away and I truthfully didn’t know what to do. This was not what I’d expected. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to be as close to him as I possibly could, and it really felt as if some invisible force was pulling us closer together. I struggled to find the right words, but none came, and feeling foolish and inadequate, I settled for the trivial.
“You’ve got a money spider crawling up your jacket,” I spoke nervously, my voice higher than normal, and went to brush away the small spider that was climbing up the lapel of his jacket.
Then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. He jumped back, recoiling from my touch, his eyes flashing and his face set.
“Don’t touch me,” he commanded. “Stay away from me. For your own sake, stay away. This can never work.”
“What d’you mean?” I faltered, staring at him in disbelief.
He gave me one last look, and his eyes were filled with such utter desolation that I simply stood and watched as he backed further into the shadows. Then giving a sigh that seemed to rend him in two, he turned and ran as fast as he could around the corner of the building.
I stared at the empty space where he’d stood, not comprehending what had just happened. How could someone look at you with such longing, but not want you near them? Why did he say not to touch him? And what did he mean ‘for your own sake stay away’? It just didn’t make sense. Yet again, something had happened between us and he’d run away. I looked around, aware the world had suddenly gone dark, and realised that the bright sunshine had been replaced by black, threatening clouds. Already, I could feel spots of heavy rain on my skin.
“Come on girls, every one in,” shouted the Games Teacher, Mrs Wilde. “Looks like there’s a storm coming. Quick as you can now.”
Suddenly, the energy I’d experienced on the netball court was gone and I felt drained. I changed into my sweatshirt and jeans as quickly as possible, amazed that no one had seemed to notice my encounter with Theo. Thankfully, that meant no awkward questions and I hurried to my Art lesson without speaking to anyone. Outside, a storm raged, the rain falling fast and furious, flashes of lightning illuminating the inky black sky and loud cracks of thunder crashing right above us, causing some girls to cry out in terror. I barely noticed. Throughout the afternoon, my energy levels dipped lower and lower, to the point where I could barely concentrate.
“Are you okay?” asked Tash, as we walked out of the Art class at the end of the afternoon.
“Not really,” I answered. “I think I must be going down with something. I feel so tired.”
“It’s all that running around on the netball court,” she grinned. “I always said sport was no good for you. You’ve worn yourself out. You need to go home and have a good sleep.”
“That’s about all I feel like doing,” I admitted. “I feel terrible.”
I was barely able to drag myself onto the school bus, and I don’t know how I managed to walk down the hill and get home. My limbs felt like lead and every step took a huge amount of effort. The air hung oppressively and even breathing seemed difficult. At last I reached home and, feeling totally washed out, informed Granddad that I was going to bed.
“I think I’m going down with flu,” I told him. “My body aches and I just want to sleep.”
“I’ll bring you up a Lemsip,” he said, taking control. “We’re having chicken broth for tea, that’ll sort you out. You’ll soon feel good as new.”
When my mother came home from work, she felt my forehead.
“You don’t have a temperature,” she said, “but you are very pale. It’s probably better if you don’t go into college tomorrow.”
I willingly acquiesced with that. College was the last place I wanted to be. I didn’t care if I never went back. I just wanted to be as far away as possible from Theo. How could someone I’d met only twice have such a devastating effect on me? Was my mysterious illness somehow a manifestation of my inner turmoil? Was it psychosomatic? Perhaps psychologically I was protecting myself from further hurt by finding the perfect excuse not to go into college.
That night, I had muddled dreams, all featuring Theo, of course. I found myself standing on the bank of a huge, swollen river with a fast moving current that pulled the frothing waters, spewing and angry, down towards a waterfall. On the opposite bank, which was green and lush and bathed in sunlight, stood Theo. My side of the river, in contrast, was dark and cold and in shadow. However loudly I called his name, he didn’t seem to hear me. The sound of my voice was drowned out by the fast moving water. In vain I called, but my words were carried away downstream. I realised the only way I could reach him was to brave the strong current and swim across the river. Fully clothed, I flung myself in and tried to battle the angry water, but my limbs were heavy and slow and refused to work properly, and I realised I was never going to make it to the opposite bank. With horror, I realised I was being dragged downstream by the strong current, towards the impending waterfall, and I screamed Theo’s name even louder. Again he didn’t hear, and I saw him slowly walking away into the sunshine. Closer and closer loomed the waterfall. I could hardly breathe and the water was filling up my lungs. Then suddenly my body reached the lip of rock and I was falling, falling…
I woke up to find my mother leaning over me, stroking my face.
“Emily, Emily, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
I stared up at her face and burst into tears. She held me in her arms, cradling me and rocking me, as if I were a small child. “It’s alright, you’re safe,” she crooned, “It was just a bad dream.”
A cup of warm milk and two paracetamol tablets later and I slipped easily back into sleep, this time a black, dreamless sleep that covered me like a warm, dark blanket. I woke in the morning feeling better but still tired, and at my mother’s insistence, spent the day at home, watching TV, reading books and listening to music. All in all, not a bad day and I felt very relieved to be away from Hartsdown College, or more accurately, away from Theo and Violet. Tash came round after college and for a while, it was like old times, laughing and joking together, playing our favourite Coldplay album, and generally just hanging out.
My newly found equilibrium couldn’t last, of course, and as the Easter holidays progressed, I found myself slipping into a depression. One day merged into the next and I still felt tired and drawn. With a heavy heart I attempted to write my English Literature assignment, not relishing the thought of reading John Donne’s love poetry. I started to read ‘The Good Morrow’ and his words leapt out from the page at me, each phrase poignant and sad in view of recent events:
‘If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desir’d and got, t’was but a dreame of thee.’
I put down the book and stared mournfully out of my bedroom window at the fields beyond and sighed. Oh Theo! What had happened between us? Would the world ever be the same again? How I wished he and Violet had never come to Hartswell-on-the-Hill and I had never met him. I felt as if my peace of mind had gone forever. So, this is what love was all about. Pain, loneliness and longing. He’d made it plain that nothing would ever happen between us, for reasons of his own, but in so doing he’d destroyed my cosy little world. I read on, and the more I read, the sadder I became, especially when I stumbled upon the words of ‘The Broken Heart’:
‘Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
If once into loves hands it come!’
I devoured the poem, relishing its intensity, understanding for the first time in my life the poet’s emotion. This man had truly loved and lost because he understood only too well what I was going through:
‘My ragges of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more.’
I couldn’t deny it. Although I’d met Theo only twice, there had been a deep connection between us, and I’d fallen for him completely and totally. But no matter how much I was in love with him, the situation was hopeless. He didn’t want to know. Despite the fact I’d obviously had a big effect on him, something was preventing him taking things further, and I felt frustrated, angry and confused. None of it made any sense. Unless he had a girlfriend already, of course. I simply hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he was seeing someone else and that’s why he couldn’t see me. Now I added jealousy to my list and felt even more depressed. I sat in my bedroom, playing The Lumineers’ ‘Stubborn Love’, feeling bereft and alone, the words having fresh meaning every time I heard them.
Tash phoned and texted me a couple of times, suggesting we meet up, but I was unenthusiastic. There was an unspoken barrier between us, and things just weren’t the same. I longed to tell her about Theo, but what was there to say? That I’d met Violet’s brother, that he’d given me some kind of static shock when I shook his hand and I fancied him like mad, but he wasn’t interested? It all looked pretty pathetic when you considered the facts. And apart from that, Tash clearly disliked Violet, and had even warned me away from her. So, I kept my distance, not wanting to share my thoughts with her, and pleading illness in my defence. In truth, I still felt depleted and tired, and my low spirits were doing nothing to help my energy levels. I had no appetite and my clothes had started to hang on me. My hair was lank, my skin looked sallow and I even thought about using Tash’s beer facial, but couldn't be bothered.
All through the Easter holidays, I moped and fretted, until even my good-natured Granddad started to get fed up with me.
“Why don’t you go out?” he suggested, seeing me sitting forlornly at the breakfast table. “Get some fresh air. You’re just moping around and that’s not good for anyone. Why don’t you go shopping with Tash? Or see a film?”
“I’ll go out for a walk,” I said. “ I think Tash is busy today.”
I set off up the hill and found myself propelled towards Hartswell Hall. Once there, I paused, peering up the long driveway, trying to see the house and wondering if I dared go up and have a look. Just being here made me feel closer to Theo, although I don’t know what I would have done if he’d suddenly appeared. That would have been most embarrassing. Without thinking, I allowed myself to walk a few steps up the driveway, then a few more, admiring the topiary designs that had been created in the privet hedges along the way. Someone had been at work, I noted, but there was still a long way to go, and beyond the topiary it was wild and overgrown.
As I rounded the next corner, Hartswell Hall was there before me, majestic and mysterious, looking now almost completely renovated and restored. I was amazed. How had they managed to achieve so much in such a short space of time? And where were the workmen and the scaffolding? Surely it should have taken months to get to this state of repair, yet Violet said her family was in the process of moving in.
I stood open mouthed, taking in the detail. The stonework had been thoroughly cleaned, uncovering the original Cotswold honey colour lost beneath years of grime, and the bas-relief ornamentation had been meticulously restored, revealing leaves, fruit, stags and open-mouthed gargoyles. New wooden window panes were freshly painted in cream, highlighting the small leaded panes of glass that twinkled in the sunshine, and the huge oak front door had been sanded down to reveal the natural wood in all its splendour, providing an impressive entrance.
My feet crunched on the freshly laid gravel approach and I stopped, aware that I had come too far and could be seen from any of the windows on this side of the house. Too late, I turned to leave and found my way blocked by a ferocious looking man, with a large hooked nose, glaring black eyes and wild dark hair. I simply hadn’t heard him walk up behind me.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a low, guttural East European accent.
“Er, no,” I stuttered. “I was, er, just having a look. Sorry, I’ll, er…”
“Get away from here. Hartswell Hall’s not open yet.” He towered over me menacingly and I took a step backwards. “Strangers are not welcome.”
I looked up at his face, momentarily transfixed by his black flashing eyes and his sheer presence.
“Aquila, the car, please!” A woman’s voice called out commandingly, from the front courtyard, and I turned to see a beautiful blond woman, standing by a long, sleek, black car.
I stared open mouthed. She hadn’t been there last time I looked. How did she get from the house to the car without me hearing her? I didn’t think the car had been there, either. But there again, maybe I hadn’t noticed it.
“Yes, madam,” said the tall, dark man, slowly and almost sarcastically. Reluctantly he walked towards the car, but before he reached it, he turned and glared at me once again with slitted, glittering eyes. The next second, he was at the car and opening the rear passenger door for the blond woman. She was about to get in, when she obviously thought better of it and turned towards me, addressing me, in a softly spoken, cultured voice.
“Hello, you must be Emily.”
I was totally taken aback.
“Er, yes,” I stuttered, ‘How did you…?”
“Violet and Theo have told me all about you,” she said, with a smile. “It was only a matter of time before you showed up. But I’m forgetting myself. I’m Mrs de Lucis.” She held out her hand to me and smiled graciously.
I walked towards her, feeling rather a fool. I really shouldn’t have come. This was totally embarrassing. It was only as I took her hand that I realised just how beautiful she was. Tall, slender and small boned, she was dressed in a 1950s style powder-blue suit, with a tight fitting pencil skirt and short tailored jacket with three quarter length sleeves. Her blond hair was swept up and back, revealing perfect bone structure and the same ivory white skin as Theo and Violet. Large sunglasses concealed her eyes, which I guessed to be the same piercing blue, giving prominence to her glossy pink lips and perfect white teeth. Her hands were long and tapered, with beautifully manicured nails, and her skin felt cool and smooth to my touch. She smiled broadly as we shook hands and I felt instantly relaxed and at ease.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m late for an appointment, and Theo’s not around at the moment, so if you don’t mind….”
“No, no, of course,” I smiled back at her, won over by her friendliness and calm manner. “I was just looking….” I trailed off, unsure why I was there.
“Goodbye,” she said, smiling as she got into the rear passenger compartment. Her chauffeur closed the door with a soft, low click and walked round to the driver’s door. I watched as he got in, started the engine and reversed the car. The car shot forward suddenly, forcing me to jump to one side, and I briefly saw the man’s face again as he drove passed me. His face was contorted with rage and he gave me a look of pure malevolence, which chilled me to the bone. Then the car was gone, disappearing down the driveway and out on to the High Street.
I looked back towards the hall, feeling more confused than ever, and glanced up towards the first storey windows. They glinted and winked at me, reflecting the light. And that was when I saw him. I most definitely saw Theo looking out of the window, watching me. Too late, he drew back, but I knew he’d seen me looking up at him. I stared up for a few seconds more, my heart beating wildly, but the window remained empty. Feeling hot and embarrassed, and wishing more than ever I’d never walked up the driveway, I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could, and didn’t stop until I got back home. Then I closed the door behind me, breathing heavily, only realising then how much my hands were shaking.
5. Mist Shrou
d
That night, just before midnight, a thick, swirling mist settled over Hartswell-on-the- Hill. The temperature dropped suddenly, the air became damp and the mist crept along, shrouding the village in an oppressive white mantle that deadened all sound, creating a cold, eerie silence in which it was impossible to see or hear anything.
A mist in itself was not an unusual occurrence, as the fields surrounding the village were often prone to foggy patches, due to their low-lying marshy terrain. But this particular mist left the fields untouched, their tufty hillocks and sleeping cottonwool sheep clearly visible in the bright light of the nearly new moon. Instead, it affected only the higher ground, and more specifically, the village, where it grew ever thicker.
Most villagers slumbered in their beds, oblivious to the snaking, silent fingers of fog that stretched into every nook and cranny, and only a handful of people experienced the strange phenomenon.
Burt Bennison, driving back from a late night Legion meeting, spoke of one minute driving along a well-lit road with perfect visibility and the next being faced with a solid bank of fog, as impenetrable as a brick wall, just as he reached the outer boundaries of the village. Unable to see more than a few inches, he had no choice but to leave his car by the gated entrance to a field and walk the last few hundred yards to his house.
Mrs Beaton, taking her dog, Benjie, for a late night walk, more to aid her insomnia than for the dog’s benefit, saw the mist starting to creep in. She hurried home, anxious to escape the damp and cold before it affected her bronchitis. Late night revellers, Larry Swanson and Mick Jones, stepped out of The White Hart after a late night lock-in, barely able to stand, much the worse for wear after six pints of Black Sheep. The mist curled around them, sweeping and caressing them, as they staggered on their way. Somehow it seemed to propel them homewards, and each arrived home with no sense of having seen anything out of the ordinary, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep and waking the next day, with only dim memories of the night before.
