She settled down to the task in hand of picking up the detritus of clothing from the hallway floor, and as she made her way through to the kitchen, a sudden noise from upstairs made her jump.
‘Is that you, Matthew?’ she called, pausing at the foot of the stairs, peering up into the semi-gloom.
‘No Mum, it’s me.’
Theo appeared at the top of the stairs, beaming down at his mother with a refreshing smile that had been absent from his face for such a long time. Joyce had forgotten how lovely her son looked when smiling.
Theo was a good-looking lad with cropped blond hair, and blue eyes that had once sparkled with mischief, but which had been oddly blank and expressionless for the past couple of years. He came down the stairs and hugged her warmly. ‘Oh Mum, I’m so sorry for being such an utter shit!’ he cried.
‘Well, I must say, this comes as something of a surprise, Theo,’ Joyce sighed, returning the hug. ‘And a pleasant surprise, too. Matthew told me you’d had another blazing row out in Spain and that he had left you out there. I didn’t expect to find you back here.’
Theo sighed and released his mother from his embrace. ‘Yeah, he left me to stew in my own juices,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘He told me it was over for good this time. Look, Mum, you put your feet up. I was just coming down to sort out all this washing anyway. I’ll stick it in the machine and make some tea, and we can have a nice long chat. We’ve not done that for ages.’
‘I’m supposed to be cleaning, darling. I don’t think Matthew would appreciate me not doing my job.’
Theo chuckled. ‘Don’t worry about that, Mum. I’ll get on with the cleaning.’ He took the pile of dirty laundry from her and carried it through to the kitchen.
‘So, what’s brought about this change in you, Theo?’ Joyce asked as she trailed behind him. ‘Not that I’m complaining, mind. It’s such a pleasure to see my darling Theo again, and not that ruffian he turned into.’
‘I’m glad to be back too,’ Theo muttered as he shoved the laundry into the washing machine.
‘I don’t mean to interfere, darling, but don’t you think it would be better to separate your coloured from your whites?’ She pushed him aside, told him to sit down, and fished the clothes out again.
‘You do that then, Mum, and I’ll make the tea.’
They settled into performing their tasks, surrounded by a sudden awkward silence, but with the washing machine whirling around its first cycle, and with two mugs of steaming tea waiting on the worktop, the pair faced one another again.
‘So, Theo, let’s talk,’ Joyce said. Picking up her mug and making her way into the lounge, she settled onto the sofa and waited for her son to follow.
Theo sat beside her, placing his mug on the coffee table in the centre of the white rug that dominated the middle of the polished wooden floorboards. He took a deep breath. ‘Where do I begin?’
Joyce reclined on the sofa, sipping her tea as she fixed her son with an unwavering stare. ‘Why did you treat Matthew so abominably? He loves you so much, and I thought you loved him.’
‘I did. I still do.’ Theo fumbled for words to convey the turmoil he felt. ‘It was all Carson’s fault.’
‘Is that the dissolute youth who wears makeup?’
Theo nodded. ‘I know it’s selfish, but I felt Matt was neglecting me. We hadn’t been out for almost a year, and I wanted to see what the local clubs were like. Matt wouldn’t go with me though. While he concentrated on his writing, I started going out clubbing to give him some peace, and I was flattered by the attention Carson paid me right from the start.’
‘That’s a pretty lame excuse, darling. You’d been seeing each other long enough by that point to know that clubbing is something Matthew just doesn’t enjoy.’
‘We didn’t have to go clubbing. It would have been nice to go out for a meal, or to the theatre, or even the cinema. I’d have been quite happy doing any of those things, but Matt just wanted to stay in every night doing his writing. I was jealous I guess that he liked his writing more than he liked me. I was bored with the same old routine and wanted something different.’
‘You know how important Matthew’s writing is to him, Theo. He’s trying to get a foot on the first rung of the publishing ladder. It’s not easy! Some sacrifices must be made – by both of you! If it’s any consolation, I do see your side of things. But that was no reason for you to go off the rails like you did.’
‘Carson showed me a lifestyle that was different. I’d never met a drag artiste before. I was… intrigued, I guess. Plied with alcohol I got carried away in the moment. He and his friends showed me an open uninhibited lifestyle, and I was suddenly aware of all the things I was missing out on by being with Matt.’
Joyce shook her head sadly. ‘You had a stable relationship, Theo, with a boyfriend who adores you. How many of your friends would kill to have what you had? And you threw it all back in Matthew’s face like an ungrateful brat, just because he was concentrating on trying to better himself and achieve his ambitions.’
‘I know.’
‘I was ashamed of you, Theo.’
‘I know.’
‘And through it all, Matthew never once gave up hope that it was just you sowing your oats, a phase you would grow out of.’
‘I know.’
‘Stop saying I know like that, Theo. You have no idea the hurt you have caused with your actions. To be perfectly honest with you, I wouldn’t blame Matthew if he stuck to his word and that it was over between you for good!’
Theo sighed. ‘I know,’ he mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
Joyce had not moved from her reclining position, except to take sips of her tea in between speaking. ‘So, what has brought about this change?’
‘Carson, actually.’
Joyce arched an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘Explain!’
‘For some months now I’ve had the really odd feeling that I’ve not always been in control of my actions. I put it down to the drink and… sorry Mum… recreational drugs.’ When Joyce did not flinch at the mention of drugs, Theo realised she had already guessed that, so he continued. ‘Recently, I’ve begun to suspect that Carson has bewitched me in some way, or one of his friends. They’re all an odd bunch. Now, it might be paranoia, because I’ve gone cold turkey on the drink and drugs for the past couple of months, but I’ve been hearing voices in my head, and I’ve found myself in odd places with no recollection of how I got there.’
‘And what’s your explanation for that?’
Theo shrugged. ‘I haven’t any… none that you wouldn’t laugh at anyway.’
‘Try me.’
Theo paused for a second, contemplating his mother’s open face, but then decided to ignore her suggestion. ‘I went to Alicante with Matt, hoping that a break away from this place with my mind clear might allow us to sort out our problems and our feelings for each other. I hadn’t reckoned on Carson being out there, performing in one of the bars. Matt went ballistic when he saw him. He thought I’d only gone with him because I knew Carson was going to be there. He simply didn’t believe me when I said it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to him. I guess I can’t really blame him.’
‘So you had a blazing row?’
Theo nodded. ‘Matt stormed off and returned home early. I tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t interested.’
‘And what of Carson?’
‘I saw him several times trying to seduce complete strangers, and when he had no luck with them, he tried it on again with me. I told him I wasn’t interested and that I never wanted to see him again. He started to threaten me, but the barman threw him out.’
‘And you followed Matthew home?’
Theo shook his head. ‘Not immediately. I sat up all night, chatting to the barman. I told him everything. He told me that years of tending bar had given him a little insight into reading body language. He could tell I loved Matt, and said that Matt’s body language indicated intense love for me, but also a great deal of
anger. He said I’d been a fool to let Matt slip through my fingers, and that I should give him a few days to cool down before following him home to try and make peace.’
‘This barman seems to know what he’s talking about,’ murmured Joyce, lost in thought as she contemplated something her sister had told her some years ago; something that had happened to a friend’s brother. Some of what Theo had said caused Joyce to recall the facts as they had been recounted to her, and she was struck by the curious similarities.
‘You don’t think I’ve blown it with Matt, do you?’
Joyce sighed sadly. ‘I really don’t know, darling. I think it’s something you and Matthew are going to have to sort out between yourselves, but I’d like to think there’s more than a chance that you can resolve the situation.’
‘I’m glad you think so, Mum. It gives me a bit of hope. I actually expected to find Matt here when I got home. You don’t know where he is, do you?’
‘He’s inherited a house in some old woman’s will, and he went to look at it early this morning. I doubt he’ll be back till late.’
‘Inherited a house, eh? Sounds intriguing. Was the old woman anyone we know?’
Joyce shrugged. ‘I don’t ask questions. I only know the information he volunteered freely.’
‘So where is this house? Not local, I take it?’
Joyce shook her head. ‘It’s some village called Emmendale I think.’
‘Do you mean Elendale?”
Joyce noted her son’s look of surprise. ‘That’s right. You’ve heard of it?’
‘Yes,’ Theo responded with a frown. ‘That’s the name of the village he went to last year, when he lost that house to a higher bidder. What was the name of it…?’ He looked upwards thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘Four Oaks, or something like that.’
Joyce felt a chill run up her spine. ‘Four Oaks? But that’s the name of the house this old woman’s left him!’
Theo felt the same chill take hold of him. ‘I don’t like the sound of that one little bit.’
‘It does seem rather a bizarre coincidence,’ Joyce muttered absentmindedly. She stared into space, lost in thought, remembering more of what her sister had told her when she and her husband had moved all the way up to Scotland over a decade ago.
At first, Joyce had thought her bohemian sister and brother-in-law were mad to up sticks after a lifetime of City living to buy a rambling old Victorian mansion near the shores of Lock Laggan. The place sounded desolate, cut off from even the village that took its name.
But then her sister had told her something of the history of the old house. It was a history filled with mystery; a house at one time filled with restless spirits that had once seemed doomed never to find peace.
The thought of living in a purportedly haunted house terrified Joyce, but she could tell how excited her sister and brother-in-law were at the prospect, and so she said nothing, except that they need not expect her to visit any time soon.
Nearly fifteen years of living at Ravenscreag Hall, however, had been a decade and a half of peace, filled with not one single ghostly occurrence, which her sister had been sorely disappointed about, but about which Joyce had been openly relieved.
‘Maybe you’ll come and visit now,’ her sister had said only a few weeks earlier when she had been down visiting friends and family.
Joyce’s response had been vague and non-committal. She had heard much about the house that led her to believe fifteen years of silence from its invisible occupants did not necessarily mean they had moved on.
‘You know what?’ Joyce said suddenly, snapping out of her reverie to look directly into Theo’s eyes. ‘I think I’m going to pay Aunt Lesley a visit.’
Theo fixed his mother with a look of mock shock, reaching out a hand to touch her forehead. ‘Are you feeling all right, Mum? How many times have you told Aunt Lesley that you’ll never set foot in that accursed house of hers?’
Joyce chuckled. ‘Well, I can’t go on being terrified of the place forever. Besides, I’ve not seen your Uncle Jack for ages. I missed him when Aunt Lesley came down last month.’
Theo frowned. ‘What are you up to, Mum?’
‘Nothing, darling. Absolutely nothing.’
‘You are up to something, Mum!’ Theo mumbled, clearly unconvinced at his mother’s sincerity.
Joyce was not about to be drawn on the subject. ‘Never mind what I’m up to. What are you going to do about Matthew?’
Theo shrugged. ‘I’m going to wait for him to come home, and then we’ll sit down and talk things through. If he wants to end things, then I guess I’ll have to accept that it’s over and that it’s all my own doing.’
‘Don’t be so defeatist, darling. If something is worth holding onto, never give up without a fight, no matter how much of the mess is your own fault. It takes a big man to stand up and admit his mistakes, offer an apology and beg forgiveness… and it takes an even bigger man to recognise humility and sincerity, accept the apology, and give forgiveness.’
‘So what do you think I should do?’
Joyce grabbed the cordless telephone from its cradle beside the sofa and held it out to her son. ‘He’s probably got his mobile on him. Call him. Talk to him, but don’t lose your temper like you usually do, or you really will lose him. But fight to keep him!’
Theo reached out and took the telephone. ‘Okay. And what are you going to do?’
Joyce smiled as she rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to get on with the cleaning.’
*
From his vantage point, high up in the woods on Serpent’s Crest, Max Revenant had a perfect view of the valley floor laid out below him. In it’s near-naked autumnal glory, gently steaming as the mid-morning sun beat down to melt the early frost that coated the bare branches of the trees, he could see the figure walking slowly towards Wicca Hill on the opposite side of the forest.
Had the morning sky not been quite so cloudless, he might have been able to make out who was walking through the woods, but at this height, facing east, the morning sunlight dazzled his eyes. His mother had warned him to maintain a concealed presence for the time being, so he could not be down in the woods in case he was seen.
He squinted against the bright light, trying to make out the figure below. From build and gait, he deduced the figure to be female, and having come from the direction of Neville Hill, he could think of only one woman who might actually have the audacity to venture into Dead Man’s Wood.
‘I wonder where she’s going?’ he wondered aloud.
She searches for the dwelling place of Sawyl Gwilym.
The reassuringly familiar woman’s voice, whispering in his ear, caused Max to jump, and when he whirled around, almost hyperventilating, his agitation was complete as he discovered he was alone.
‘Mother, where are you hiding?’
Have you forgotten already that I am all around you, my son?
Max sighed and relaxed. ‘No, of course I have not forgotten, Mother. You merely startled me.’
A gentle breeze caressed his cheek and tousled his hair, almost as though someone brushed him with the tenderness reserved for a maternal touch. He reached out to grasp at the invisible hand as the oddly out of season scent of apple blossom subtly wafted around him.
I did not mean to do so, my son. Remember all that I have told you. I see and hear all things, as I am with you always whilst you reside within these woods.
‘You’ve been gone for so many months that I began to believe you were really dead, or a figment of my imagination.’
My son, I cannot truly die. I am as real today as I was the day I bore you into this cruel world. You did as I asked. I am pleased.
‘I gave Matthew Silverthorne the keys to Four Oaks, but something frightened him away from the house.’
He shall return.
‘How can you be so sure of that?’
It is his destiny.
Clearly, no pertinent information was to be forthcoming, so Max returned his atte
ntion to the diminishing figure in the woods below. ‘And what of her? Is it really safe for her to be seeking his lair?’
Do not worry, my son. I shall take care of the matter.
‘When is this prophecy of yours to come true, Mother?’
Soon, my son. The pieces of the jigsaw are falling slowly into place. Destiny shall be fulfilled. The prophecy I foretold Centuries ago is nearly upon us.
*
Louise shivered uneasily, glancing fearfully around as she made her way through the boggy undergrowth that carpeted the floor of the forest.
She was not certain why she had made the astonishingly rash decision to head into Dead Man’s Wood, nor was she sure, as she made her way in the direction of Wicca Hill, why she had felt the sudden compulsion to seek out the secret lair of Sawyl Gwilym.
She had first heard the legend of the warlock from Gloria, shortly before her disappearance, and Louise was glad she had not met the vile man.
She felt sorry for Phil at that time, because Sawyl’s evil spirit had been reincarnated into the innocent body of his sister, but if the death of Wilma McFadyen meant the evil warlock could never again manifest his spirit into the world of the living, then her death was not in vain.
Even Phil agreed with that.
However, it now appeared that Wilma’s death had been in vain. Somehow, the Warlock had found a way to return, determined to wreak his vengeance upon them all. But Louise was equally determined to find a way to defeat him once and for all.
There had to be a way.
She was unsure how such a task could be accomplished, neither was she sure why she so strongly felt the answer lay hidden somewhere in Sawyl’s lair.
Nobody ever ventured up to Wicca Hill – nobody with any sense, anyway.
And now she understood exactly why.
The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2) Page 5
