Elemental: The First

by Alexandra May

  “Daisy?” I asked shyly. “Would you mind if I used your study later?”

  “Of course I don’t mind, dear. What are you looking for?”

  “Have you ever heard the name ‘Halíka Dacomé?”

  I wasn’t sure but I could have sworn that I saw Daisy stiffen slightly.

  “Halíka Dacomé is just an old legend. You’ll find her story in the book I gave you,” she said, her tone slightly abrupt.

  “I thought I had heard her name from somewhere,” I said. I would sound crazy if I told her I had dreamt it, but I hadn’t recalled seeing it in ‘The Wiltshire Myths and Legends’. I cursed silently knowing I should have checked first.

  “You’ll find your tea in that cupboard, and I’ve written my mobile number on the top of the calendar if you need me. You’ll be okay on your own?”

  “Of course, Daisy, I’ll be fine. You go and be with your friend,” I said sincerely.

  I got up, and found the dishwasher, putting my bowl in and then found the cupboard stacked with boxes of Camomile tea.

  “Wow, Mum really did prepare you for me, didn’t she?” I said.

  “Your parents wanted you to feel at home here, so yes, they told me what you liked. Rose, I want you to consider this your home. I know you’ve only been here a day but, don’t think of this as my house. It’s all yours.”

  And with that she got up and gave me a tight squeeze.

  Daisy left soon after and the house became eerily quiet again, creaking occasionally but mostly still.

  So Daisy hadn’t heard the noises, which I found strange. But, at the time, she’d been on the ground floor at the front of the house. Could that have made the difference? My back bedroom would have captured any noise from the garden and the fields behind. Maybe it was the army after all and it had all just seemed louder in an unfamiliar house.

  And what was that about Maggie’s husband going missing? How odd. I was still deep in thought when I returned to my room, and then with a sigh, embarked on the mammoth task of unpacking.

  A while later I surveyed my work. Books now filled all the available shelving space; my computer was internet connected and emails downloaded, though none were from my parents or Amy which annoyed me. Some old friends had written a short message which was sweet of them. The small iPod flashed as it charged whilst the wardrobe was now filled to maximum capacity.

  I had an overwhelming urge to talk to someone familiar so I ran downstairs and dialled Amy’s number, eager to speak to her. She wasn’t in, it went straight to voicemail. I left my message and returned upstairs to sit on my bed and stare at the view outside.

  The clock in the hall chimed and I was startled by the time. Lunchtime already.

  I changed out of my scruffs into a pretty floral green top and jeans before running to the kitchen, and prepared a sandwich. As I munched I stared out the window, and into the garden, remembering the voice from my dream.

  ‘They’re coming for it. It’s hidden behind stone. You must protect it. It belongs to you now.’

  ‘Don’t let them take it. You must guard it. Don’t trust anyone.’

  ‘Use your powers. Hide it. Keep it safe. It is your life.’

  “It’s hidden behind stone.”

  As I spoke the words aloud I began to rationally think of what it could mean. The walls around the house and garden were the obvious choice. But was it too obvious? Sure, the security here was tight so it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything in the wall without it being noticeable. Plus, I had no idea how long the wall was, maybe half a mile at least.

  Did the voice mean hidden underground, as in under the stone of a house? Maybe even under Morgan’s cottage as it was relatively new.

  And that was something else I hadn’t thought of. Who was the voice? Who was she? Maybe the grey girl in the mirror but when the girl had spoken it hadn’t sounded the same. Her foreign intonation had been stilted, her verbal skill slightly uncomfortable with the English language.

  More than inquisitive, and with spare time on my hands, I finished my sandwich quickly and headed out the back door. I knew I shouldn’t but I couldn’t resist as the terracotta roof of Morgan’s cottage glinted in the sun.

  The grass felt cool under my bare feet as I stepped across the lawn and I approached the conifers which hid the cottage well. Around the far side was the front door and a small driveway leading to another lane.

  This I remembered. It was the original entrance when my family and I had arrived for our holidays. We would travel around this lane and park on this driveway. So that was why I hadn’t recalled the gates or the gravel before. It made sense now.

  This far side of the garden was much prettier. The surrounding plants and trees were much more established. Large pots of yuccas, and flowers in smaller pots provided a rainbow of colour and variety. The vista was beautiful and well maintained. I couldn’t help but think that this was most unusual. Most boys my age hadn’t a clue how to look after a pot plant let alone a small garden like this. Daisy must visit regularly and help Morgan with the watering.

  I sneaked along the front wall of the cottage and peered in to the windows.

  The room was small but cosy. At the front door I paused. Should I? Daisy would kill me, for sure. Curiosity overcame all else though, I had already come this far, and I quietly tried the door handle which opened the door without a sound.

  Didn’t anyone lock their doors around here? I thought then I remembered the security again. Of course, what would be the point of locking your door when you were surrounded by a six foot wall with security cameras and barbed wire on top?

  The pleasant room inside was studio styled, with a single bed against the corner and a TV opposite. A sofa and bookshelf acted as a room barrier facing a small kitchenette. The windowsill above the sink had more plants. This was nice, I thought, cheerfully surprised.

  It was tidy, neat and not at all what I expected. The four walls were filled with tasteful posters of waterfalls, sunsets and aerial views. One was a print of an old Stonehenge painting I had seen in a book, the one with sheep around the blue Sarson stones. My opinion of Morgan went up slightly but this was only because of the tidiness. I hated slothfulness.

  I stopped and stood in the centre of the room quietly, waiting before I continued. I had to be absolutely certain there would be no interruptions.

  It was safe. I could feel nobody within a half mile radius.

  With closed eyes and my ears keenly tuned in to sound, I stood and focused within. I stretched my palms out facing up and reached fully with my gift. The familiar tingling sensation followed with the silver tendrils escaping from my fingertips, like skipping ropes wavering, touching and feeling the essence in the room. I tried to feel for a loose brick or stone, but stopped at the cement floor. Even my gift couldn’t get through it.

  The small cry came from the corner of the windowsill, so faint, ordinary ears wouldn’t have heard it. I moved my head in the direction without opening my eyes. A small silver dot shimmered against the red hue that was the back of my eyelids.

  The dot was a pot plant on the windowsill. I smiled, and blinked my eyes open as I grasped the plant and sat on the sofa balancing it on my knees. This was one of the upsides of having a small gift; I loved doing this but couldn’t remember when the last time had been, months ago possibly.

  The pretty plant was a pink begonia. It had been over-watered; the saucer to catch water underneath was too large. The brown dry crisp leaves were a sure sign, but my gift told me for certain. I held my hand over the plant guiding the silvery threads, and it soon streamed like hundreds of shiny veins from my fingers touching every petal, every stalk. They soothed as they touched and I felt a thrill as they soon entwined themselves around the stem delving into the soil below.

  This plant was happy but there was no mistaking it wasn’t afraid to die. I shoved my shiny tendrils down further and felt the dampness. Yes, too much moisture at the pot base. The root tips had perished from drowning and the root heads clo
sest to the husk would soon follow.

  I whipped the tendrils around the base gently withdrawing the water and expelling it back out into the air. The begonia shifted in the soil as it began to breathe again. I started bringing back my veins of silver to the surface. They flashed back into my fingers and the dry leaves dropped away to the floor.

  The plant had shown me images of new shoots ready to emerge. It shuddered under my touch, happy now that it could grow bigger.

  Feeling pleased with myself I placed it back on the window sill.

  I crept out of the cottage, skipping a little as delight of my good deed took over like an adrenaline rush, and quickly ran back to the house, forgetting the reason for going to the cottage completely.

  It took the next few days to get completely unpacked. My room was now transformed; I had added a table lamp to my bedside cabinet and draped a sheer scarf over the lampshade for a softer light. The curtains were now hooked away from the window letting in complete light to every corner of the room. The paint smell had almost disappeared, now that the windows were all opened fully at the top, airing the room.

  Daisy had found some soft beige rugs for the floor, and a few old picture frames which I used to decorate the walls. Photographs of my friends and family now looked over me wherever I stood and brought a feeling of belonging.

  Emails trickled through from friends, eager for my news, but Amy had not replied to my voicemail still, or bothered to send an email. I had visions of her enjoying the freedom without our parents around so I let her have the time away.

  My parents had written twice since my arrival. Mum wished that she was back home again and hated the heat of the humid desert town, where they had rented a house. Dad wrote that he was worried I hadn’t started making friends; he implied that I should get out more to meet people. I promised him that when Mira and Hannah came over I would try.

  Daisy was exactly as I imagined. We had developed a nice but no pressure relationship. She was always out with some committee or another. Women’s Guild, Women’s Network, Women’s Refuge, War Widow’s Society and more. I laughed when she continued to fill in her calendar. There was barely a space free and though I should have, I really didn’t mind. Being on my own had been refreshing but I began to crave some away time from the house and couldn’t wait for my reunion with Hannah and Mira.

  So while Daisy was out so much I spent time in the garden, I went for runs around a three mile circuit I had discovered close to the house, and I read up on the history of the town. I still hadn’t managed to read the story of Halíka Dacomé but my dreams had calmed their intensity since that first night.

  Morgan hadn’t returned so the cottage remained quiet, tranquil and at night, dark.

  On Friday morning I got up and dressed with excited vigour. The girls were due after lunch, and I was excited about seeing them again and I hoped they still liked me after all the years apart.

  I dressed carefully wearing a new green top I had found in the pile of new clothes Mum had bought for me. It tied in a small bow at the back and showed off my thin waist and strong curvy shoulders, while the soft sheen of the fabric colour brought out the emerald green of my eyes. The jeans and peep toe flats completed my outfit.

  I brushed my hair leaving it straight and loose brushing my fringe forward, and the light from the window glinted across the top of my head like a coppery halo, once I applied some mascara and clear lip gloss, I was finally ready.

  The spluttering clamour of two mopeds entering the driveway had me running for the front door, and, sure enough there they were.

  Two tall girls, helmets in hand stared at me for a second; I stared back and then grinned. I recognised them instantly of course but they had changed somewhat in the time away.

  Mira was a tall, thin girl with long brown hair swept back in a French plait. I could see the little girl I remembered in there vaguely but she was so pretty now, her arched eyebrows emphasised her brown eyes. Hannah was still a larger girl but had lost her childhood puppy fat, and her brown bobbed hair framed her kind amiable face. They were both in jeans and tops like me.

  One minute we were staring, and in the next we were hugging and laughing with lots of screaming in the middle.

  “When Daisy said you were coming back I couldn’t believe it until I saw you, and you’re here!” Mira squealed, hugging me again. “This summer is officially going to be brilliant.”

  “Well, I was sure you’d come back some day,” Hannah added.

  We linked arms and walked into the house to the kitchen. Once laden with drinks we went to sit on the lawn outside.

  “So tell me everything,” I said happily.

  “Much the same actually,” Mira said. “What would you like to know? I’m still single; my mum still runs the estate agency in town and my dad works in Bath as a Meteorologist.”

  “My dad still works on the army base, and my mum stays at home still,” Hannah added. “They separated about a year after you left but they got back together. My brother, Michael, is thirteen now and growing up fast!”

  “Aw, little Michael! He was so cute!” I exclaimed. “So, did you do okay in your exams Mine were brutal.”

  “Yeah, I got A’s mostly,” Hannah said. She wasn’t boasting but I remembered she had flair as an academic.

  “Mine were terrible, I studied so hard too,” Mira winced. “6th form will be good though. We need to do well. There are not many jobs around Warminster unless you want to be in the army.” We all laughed and guffawed.

  “So what is there to do around here?”

  “We have a cinema, shops - as you know - there’s a small nightclub in town that we’re allowed in, but strictly no alcohol for us ‘under eighteens’. It’s pretty good, and everyone goes there. There are a few coffee shops, and after that, we make our own fun. Someone is always having a party! So all in all, it’s not so bad. You won’t be suffering from cabin fever if that’s what you’re worried about,” Mira explained.

  “I was actually,” I sighed. “I had this bad feeling that I wouldn’t see anyone till school starts. I was getting depressed just thinking about it. But Daisy said that you’d pop by, I was so relieved.”

  “And we turn up and saved the day,” Hannah added, laughing.

  “You have no idea how grateful I am!”

  “So, have you met Morgan yet” Hannah pointed her thumb to the cottage behind us.

  “Not a sign,” I answered. “He’s apparently visiting his folks.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten,” Mira answered. “His dad is a famous rally driver who travels the world. He wins sometimes too. He’s away for most of the year. Morgan doesn’t see him that often.”

  “What about his mum?”

  “She’s with his dad,” Hannah said softly, her brows furrowed. “So, Morgan really didn’t have anyone until Daisy offered to take him in. I mean, he would have had George to take care of him but he’s more like an uncle than anything else. Morgan’s sister is at Bournemouth University right now, so Daisy’s was the best option.”

  “Who’s George” I remarked, trying to put the pieces together.

  “George is their butler. He takes care of the house while they’re all away. He’s been with the family since Morgan was born,” Mira piped in. “They’re very rich but you wouldn’t guess it from Morgan. He’s so down to earth. Well, he’d have to be with friends like us! Me in my terrace house and Hannah in her flat!”

  I couldn’t help but think that Morgan was sounding nicer as our talk continued. “So do you see Morgan often” I asked.

  “All the time. We come here quite a lot, as a group, you know”

  “We have the same circle of friends,” Hannah clarified. “Morgan’s great, you’ll like him a lot. He’s very much like you, you know.”

  “In what way”

  “Well, rumour has it that you’re a fitness junkie,” Mira laughed, joining in with Hannah’s enthusiasm. “He is too, and he’s a nice guy, we’ve known hi
m a long time. Like I said, he’s a lot like you.”

  “Really,” I chuckled sarcastically at her choice of words, looking at both Mira and Hannah.

  “Rose, you’ve always had a strong personality, even when we were kids, you don’t stand for any messing around, and you call it as it is. You always have done, and it’s why I liked you when we first met. You were always the leader of our little group. Morgan would be good for you because you’re both very similar people.”

  “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” I laughed. “I’ve just got here and getting a boyfriend is not on my agenda!”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Mira said. “But there are loads of girls who are really jealous of you, right now.”

  “Loads of girls? I don’t know anybody.”

  “Believe me, everyone knows about you, whether they’ve met you or not,” Hannah remarked. “Daisy has been telling everyone about you coming to stay. She knows most of the town, you know.”

  I lay back on the grass feeling the sun on my face. “Great,” I muttered.

  “Which reminds me, next week there’s a party at the woods near Old Mad Cole’s place, but we can talk about that later,” Mira said.

  I remembered that name.

  “What happened to Old Mad Cole?” I asked curiously. “Do you remember when Mira fell in the brook and he found us and carried Mira home. We’d all thought he was nutty as a fruit cake.”

  “He was mad, that’s for sure. But we never knew what happened to him or his farm?” Hannah said.

  “What do you mean?”

  I saw a look pass between the two girls almost as if they were wary about the conversation.

  “I saw that, tell me.”

  “Old Mad Cole went missing six months ago,” Mira said quietly. “No one knows what happened or where he went. He just vanished.”

  “And three months ago, the Local Council took over his farm and flattened it,” Hannah added. “There’s an old people’s home being built on the land now.”