Parliament of Rooks

by Karen Perkins

  No answer.

  ***

  ‘Still feel like a wally?’

  ‘No-no, I don’t. I feel weird, peaceful somehow.’

  Lara nodded, smiling.

  ‘Probably all the candle and sage smoke gone to my head!’ I joked.

  Lara’s smile grew wider, her eyes crinkling in honest pleasure. She said nothing, though, just poured us both a glass of wine. ‘I think we’ve earned this,’ she said. ‘Cheers.’

  We clinked glasses and drank.

  ‘What?’ I said, defensive again at the look in her eyes over the rim of her glass.

  ‘What do you think about a tarot reading?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lara, that makes me uncomfortable.’

  ‘You’re spending too much time with Jayne,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, nothing sinister about the cards, they’re just a tool to allow us to understand what our subconscious and intuition already know.’

  ‘Oh what the hell,’ I said. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound. Just don’t go telling me when I’ll die or anything like that.’

  ‘The cards don’t predict death,’ Lara said, ‘only the most likely outcomes of current situations.’

  ‘I thought there was a death card.’

  ‘There is – but it means change, a letting go of a way of life, not the end of a life.’

  I nodded. To be fair, I was intrigued by the tarot. Lara had never been wrong in the past when she’d persuaded me to sit for a reading. Something about them just unnerved me though, and I’d never embraced the cards.

  ‘Best to do it quickly before we have more wine,’ Lara said, and I laughed as she took another gulp, then I gulped myself, took the bottle and followed her to the table.

  As she unwrapped her cards from the silk purple scarf in which she kept them, I topped up our glasses.

  ‘Dutch courage.’ I shrugged at her frown and took a sip.

  She said nothing, but shuffled the cards, her eyes closed and face blank in concentration.

  I sipped again as I waited, then took the cards when Lara proffered them, and shuffled them myself as she instructed.

  Handing them back, she laid them out, face down in three columns of three cards each, then looked at me. ‘Ready?’

  I gulped my wine, noticing that Lara had drunk no more, then took another drink and set my empty glass down. ‘Ready.’

  Lara turned over the top row of cards.

  ‘This represents your past,’ she said, ‘and there are no surprises here – always a good thing at this stage.’ She smiled up at me and I refilled my glass.

  ‘Seven of Cups. That’s delusion, believing somebody who’s been lying to you.’

  ‘Antony,’ I confirmed, sipping again.

  Lara nodded. ‘Then the Three of Swords. Discord – that’s the divorce card – and the third one is the Tower. Your old life falling down.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ I said, lifting the glass to my lips again. I quirked an eyebrow at my friend. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? I think we’ll need more wine if it carries on like this.’

  Lara reached over and laid her hand over mine. ‘This is a reflection of the past, Verity. It’s nothing you don’t already know, and actually the Tower is a good card to end on.’

  I stared at the picture on the card. A bolt of lightning striking a tall, lone stone keep, fire spewing from the upper floors, stonework tumbling.

  ‘It means the slate’s wiped clean and you can rebuild, with stronger foundations. It means a new life is beginning.’

  I grinned, looking around me and opening my arms wide to indicate The Rookery. ‘Very apt.’

  Lara smiled and bent her head back to the spread of cards. ‘The next row is your present. The Fool, the Chariot and the Eight of Wands.’

  ‘The Fool, that sounds about right.’

  Lara ignored me. ‘The Fool means you’re at the beginning of a new journey, and judging by the Chariot that follows it, it’ll be quite a ride!’ She looked up and took a sip of her wine. ‘You’ll need willpower and hard work, but you have both of those in you in spades. And you’ll persevere.’ She spread her own arms out, repeating my earlier gesture. ‘I think this place will be a success.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ I giggled, growing tipsy now.

  ‘Then this one.’ Lara tapped the Eight of Wands. ‘These are the arrows of love.’

  ‘The arrows of love? Christ, I don’t need any of that, thank you very much. Antony has very definitely rid me of any appetite for love!’

  ‘Really? Watching you in that art gallery today, I could have sworn I saw you salivating.’

  I blushed, but I wasn’t ready to talk about that – I needed far more wine before I could even start to get my head round meeting that man. ‘And what about the next cards, the future?’

  Lara unsuccessfully tried to hide a smug smile, then grew serious again. ‘The Moon, the Hanged Man, and the Lovers,’ she said as she turned the cards over.

  I stayed silent, my heart doing funny things at the appearance of the last two cards.

  ‘The moon is about your dreams,’ Lara said, eyebrows raised.

  ‘You’re joking!’

  She shook her head. ‘Pay attention to them, truths are contained within your dreams, truths you need to know and understand.’

  I sipped my wine, feeling unaccountably sober again. ‘And the Hanged Man?’ I almost whispered the words.

  ‘Does not mean death,’ Lara reassured, her hand once again atop mine. ‘It can mean sacrifice, or can be about perspective. Coming after the Moon card, I think it’s telling you to look at things in a different way. See how the man is hanging upside down from his foot? He’s telling you to be open-minded, don’t jump to conclusions, and look at things from every angle before acting.’

  I nodded then giggled again. ‘You don’t have to tell me what the Lovers means!’

  Lara tilted her head to her right shoulder. ‘Not quite what you’re thinking – it indicates choices to be made, although probably to do with a lover. It can often mean the start of a significant relationship.’

  I giggled again, my earlier protestations forgotten.

  ‘Verity.’ Lara grabbed my hand again and I winced at the strength of her grip. ‘Make the right choice – be very careful.’

  I wrenched my hand away. ‘Lara, what the hell?’

  She blinked a few times and looked confused, then gasped.

  Two balls of light hovered over the spread of cards on the table, then slowly moved around each other and rose to the ceiling, where they circled around the room.

  I jumped to my feet, Lara a split second behind me, when I spotted the hazy figure of the Grey Lady standing in the kitchen area, her back to us.

  Lara and I grabbed each other and stood frozen, fingers intertwined, and stared as the figure turned to look at us.

  She was petite, barely taller than Hannah, and very slender. Her hair – it was impossible to see the colour of it but it seemed dark – was bound up under a bonnet, but careless curls, not quite ringlets, escaped its confines and framed her bony, pinched face.

  Her gown was modest; the lace trimming the neck of it brushed the base of her skull, the sleeves puffed from the shoulders, and the waist was impossibly nipped in.

  Corset, I thought. She’s wearing a corset.

  The skirt bloomed large from the hips and brushed the floor – no, extended through the floor.

  I raised my eyes again to her face, and gasped. She was staring at me with such a look of pity and – sorrow – yes, that was it, sorrow, I felt tears prickle my eyes.

  She turned her face forward again and moved, very slowly, until the kitchen units, then the wall swallowed her up.

  She was gone.

  Lara dragged her hand out of mine and fell back into her chair – hard enough to hurt. She stretched out a shaky hand, took hold of her glass, and after a couple of attempts, drained it in one.


  I retook my own seat and stared at her.

  ‘Bloody hell, Verity,’ she said. ‘Tha-that was a ghost. That was a real ghost.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve never actually seen a ghost before!’

  5.

  The Reverend Patrick Brontë regarded the couple standing before him, and a rare smile flitted across his face as his eyes met the groom’s. The lad’s left it long enough, Haworth’s parson thought, but it’s good to see him wed at last.

  ‘Harry Sutcliffe, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Martha Earnshaw, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?’

  ‘Aye, I will.’

  Emily watched from the back of the church with her siblings. Charlotte and Branwell were in charge of taking the collection, and it was Emily and Anne’s duty to distribute then re-collect the prayer books and hymnals before and after every service; whatever the service may be: wedding, funeral, christening or Holy Communion. It was a nice change to attend a wedding, the most common service by far was the funeral.

  Emily was glad to see Harry wed before she left for her teaching post at Law Hill. She knew he’d been holding out to wed her, but had finally given up hope. A pity, she mused, if I am to have a husband, Harry may have been a tolerable one. But better to have a teaching life, than be a stonemason’s wife, that’s what Papa says. Maybe I’ll find a husband on the moors one day.

  Emily’s attention was brought back to the church as the congregation stood to sing. It was her favourite hymn, All Creatures of our God and King, and she joined in with gusto until Charlotte elbowed her in the side, and she lowered her voice to a more melodious tone.

  Martha looks lovely, Emily thought when the hymn was over. Not like her usual slovenly self at all. The bride wore a new cotton gown, especially made for the occasion. It would have taken the Earnshaws a couple of years to save up for the material, but was worth it. A lovely earthy pattern of dark red stripes on a gold background, it would likely be Martha’s best dress for the rest of her life, worn for every special occasion.

  I hope they’ve been able to leave plenty of spare material at the seams, Emily thought. If Martha’s anything like her mam, she’ll be needing to let it out plenty afore too long.

  Emily breathed deeply as the distinctive, fresh smell of wild garlic wafted over her. Garlic for courage and health, she thought and squinted at Martha’s bridal bouquet to see which other flowers she’d chosen; what her hopes for the future were.

  Gorse: endearing affection. Emily scowled, that wasn’t Martha at all. Maybe Harry had given her that. White heather for dreams to come true, honeysuckle for the bond of love, and of course pussy willow for motherhood. Hence all the garlic. Babies rarely saw their first birthday, and nearly half of those that did would not see their seventh.

  Papa’s certain it’s the wells. If water stinks that much outside, what does it do to us inside?

  Emily smiled at Harry as the couple passed, genuinely happy for her friend, then recoiled at the strength of Martha’s glare.

  The two had never got on, not even as girls, but Emily hadn’t paid too much attention. She didn’t care what the village girls thought of her.

  They had never hated each other though, but that’s what Emily saw in Martha’s face as she walked out of the church, her new husband on her arm: a deep, malevolent hatred. And something else too. Triumph?

  ***

  Verity jerked awake, her fists clenched, heart racing. But not for love, her heart was racing in anger.

  Her breathing calmed as she grew aware of her surroundings and century. The dream had seemed so real, and that was William who’d been getting married – for all he was called Harry in her dreams.

  Verity’s gut twisted at the thought. Jealousy? Am I seriously jealous from dreaming about a man I don’t know getting married over a hundred years ago?

  She threw the covers aside and jumped out of bed. This is getting ridiculous. Even more ridiculous when she caught herself hoping that Harry would visit her in the shower again.

  6.

  ‘It’s not good enough, Gary,’ Vikram said into the phone. ‘You and Omar swore to me you’d be fit for work this week.’

  He listened a moment, then, ‘Food poisoning, my arse. Alcohol poisoning more like. Just get here when you can – I don’t care how much your head hurts.’

  He hung up with a curse, then winced and apologised for his language when he saw Hannah.

  ‘Problem?’ I inquired.

  ‘The labourers have hangovers,’ he said. ‘It’ll slow us down some.’ He indicated the two men standing behind him with cups of tea. ‘Both Pramod and Darren are qualified plumbers, and now they’ll have to work together on one en-suite rather than getting on with two.’

  I shot an enquiring glance at Lara, then said, ‘Can we help? If it’s labourers you need, we’re more than happy to help out – we can fetch and carry with the best of them.’

  Lara laughed. ‘Yes, we’d been planning to visit the museum but it’s closed until after New Year. We have the day free if you can use us.’ She stared innocently at Vikram as he blushed.

  ‘Well ... if you’re sure ...’ He hesitated and looked to his colleagues, then shrugged. ‘If you two can help Pramod, I’ll help Darren. We’ll be laying pipe for the bathroom suites, and connecting everything up.’

  ‘Like the pipes game on your phone, Mum,’ Hannah butted in.

  ‘Well, something like that,’ Vikram said. ‘It shouldn’t be all day, with any luck, those two layabouts will drag themselves here at some point. They’ll need to earn some dosh for their next pub crawl! You’ll need safety gear though, hard hat, high-vis vest and steel toecaps.’ He paused and stroked his chin.

  ‘Steel toecaps? Do those come with heels?’

  Vikram stared at Lara, for a moment lost for words, then he seemed to decide she was joking. ‘I should have enough gear in the van, but I don’t think I’ll have anything to fit you, lass.’

  Hannah looked crestfallen.

  ‘Not to worry, Hans. It’ll be all dirty and dusty,’ Lara said. ‘You wouldn’t like it. Why don’t you go up to Auntie Verity’s rooms and do some colouring?’

  ‘I want to read,’ she replied, lips pouting in a sulk.

  ‘Okay, I’ll pop over to the hotel and get a book. Which one do you want?’

  ‘Gangsta Granny.’

  I raised my eyebrows at the title, then followed Vikram to the van as Lara and Hannah crossed the road to the White Lion.

  ‘I was sorry to intrude on Christmas Eve,’ Vikram said.

  I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry about it, you weren’t the one intruding.’

  ‘The ex?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I gave a smile that I knew barely touched my cheeks. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. He won’t be back in a hurry.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’

  ‘Definitely.’ This time my smile was genuine.

  He nodded and clambered into the back of his van, emerging with an armful of safety gear. ‘Boots’ll be a bit on the big side, you’ll have to stuff socks in them or summat.’

  ‘No problem, it’s not as if we’ll be walking far. Oh, you’ve got three hats, Hannah will be chuffed!’

  ‘Aye, three vests an’all. It’ll be too long for her, but at least she won’t feel left out.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’ve three nippers of my own, I know how they
get.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you had children.’ I mentally kicked myself; his private life was none of my business.

  ‘Yeah. Don’t see enough of them, though.’

  We were interrupted by the return of Lara and Hannah, who immediately cheered up with the presentation of a hard hat and a fluorescent yellow vest, then we turned to go back inside.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Vikram said. ‘Sorry,’ he added with a glance at Lara. ‘Again.’

  ‘She’s heard worse,’ Lara said. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He pointed. ‘The rooks again. I’ve not known them roost on the buildings before – they tend to stick to the graveyard, away from folk. Well, living folk, anyroad,’ he amended.

  ‘Yes, I was meaning to mention that to you. Can you put up netting or spikes, something to keep them away? As soon as possible.’

  ‘Aye, no problem. It’ll have to be in the New Year though, when I’ve got a full team back.’

  ‘That should be okay – as long as it’s before guests start arriving.’

  He nodded. ‘You know, it’s said they’re lost souls.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d heard something about that.’

  ‘Aye, unable to find their way to peace, that’s why they congregate in graveyards.’

  I shivered and noticed Hannah step closer to her mother, pressing against Lara’s side. Vikram must have seen too.

  ‘Load of superstitious nonsense,’ he said, his tone brighter. ‘Shouldn’t have brought it up. Right, are you ladies ready to go to work?’

  ***

  ‘I am absolutely exhausted,’ Lara said, collapsing on to one of the camping chairs.

  ‘Hey, watch it, you’re filthy.’

  ‘I’ll clean it later.’

  I took pity on her. ‘Tell you what, grab a quick shower and change, and I’ll treat you and Hannah to lunch as a thank you for this morning.’

  ‘Done,’ Lara said. She held her hands out. ‘Drag me off this chair and I’ll do that.’

  I laughed, grabbed her hands and hauled her to her feet. ‘You’ve only done two hours’ work, and most of that was sitting and holding pipes in place!’