Moondance of Stonewylde (42 page)

‘’Tis the Newcomer!’

‘Aye, sister, you speak right. The Newcomer on the bank, right by our little crop o’ Fly. She better not’ve touched ‘em!’

‘No, she better not’ve. They’re ours, them Fly. Always pick ‘em, every year ‘tween Equinox and Samhain, this crop.’

Sylvie had no idea what they were on about but recognised their hostility. She put her things back in her basket, anxious to be off. These were the first Villagers to show outright unfriendliness towards her and she was unsure how to respond to them.

‘You stay put, girlie!’ muttered one of the women. ‘Stay there – we want a good eyeful of you.’

‘Aye, sister, a good eyeful. We seen you afore, at the ceremonies, but never so close. You stay put, young maiden.’

They’d stopped before her as she sat on the moss, both staring down at her, and she felt awkward under their scrutiny. They nodded, pursing their wrinkled mouths.

‘Moongazy as they come, ain’t she?’

‘Aye, moongazy as that one afore her. And I’ll bet he loves it too.’

They cackled in unison and Sylvie felt the hair on her arms prickle.

‘Well, Raven, you’re home again to roost.’

‘Aye, and roosting up at the Hall in luxury this time around.’

‘I’m not Raven,’ said Sylvie, her throat constricted. ‘I’m Sylvie.’

‘Aye, right enough. But we know, don’t we, sister? We know what comes around.’

Sylvie started to get to her feet, but one of them stepped forward and pushed her back with a shrivelled hand.

‘No, don’t you go yet. We want to speak with you, get the feel of you. We mean no harm.’

‘No harm at all, young maiden, so bide your time. What’ve you got in your poke?’

She peered into Sylvie’s basket.

‘Been gathering, girl? Gathering the fruits of the woods?’

Sylvie nodded.

‘I’m doing a project for biology.’ She realised the futility of that sentence as soon as it was uttered. ‘I mean I’m learning about fungi and I’ve been looking for different types.’

‘And you found our Fly!’

They pointed along the bank, where a group of brilliant red toadstools flecked with sugary white spots glowed against a backdrop of emerald-green moss. Sylvie wondered how on earth she’d missed them.

‘No, I hadn’t seen them. They’re beautiful.’

‘Aye, beautiful for dreams and wanderings. Beautiful for helping the spirit travel far. They’re our Fly Agaric – you ain’t been at ’em?’

Sylvie shook her head quickly.

‘Raven always was one for the mushrooms, weren’t she, sister? Always one for the gathering.’

‘Pah! I could’ve shown that Raven a thing or two. Too busy moongazing and singing to notice what was right under her pretty nose. Too busy dancing around with all the men in her thrall crawling after her. Never would’ve made Wise Woman, that one. Moongazy and feckless with her bare feet and that mass o’ hair.’

‘Aye, sister. You were always the wiser. She never had her heart in it, not after they got their hands on her and took their fill.’

They cackled again, clutching at each other’s arms in glee.

‘Who are you?’ asked Sylvie, her mouth dry.

‘Who are we? Who are we? There’s a question!’

‘You’ve been here a six-month – you should know by now. You’ve ate my cakes, girl.’

They glared at her again and the older of the two shuffled to the bank. To Sylvie’s dismay she lowered herself stiffly onto the mossy top.

‘You’ve ate my cakes and you seen my son, Martin. I’m Old Violet, the Wise Woman of Stonewylde.’

Sylvie was puzzled by this. Martin the major-domo at the Hall? It seemed such an unlikely relationship. Closer up, she saw the women weren’t quite as old as she’d originally thought. Their lined faces were ingrained with grime which made them appear more wrinkled than they actually were.

‘I thought Mother Heggy was the Wise Woman,’ said Sylvie.

The women spat in unison.

‘You’re wrong there!’ hissed the one still standing. ‘My sister Violet’s the Wise Woman. That crone Heggy has no power left in her broken old bones. She’s worthless as wet firewood.’

‘If you’ve had dealings with her,’ said Violet, ‘then you’re in for a spell o’ trouble. She’s a danger to all who come to her, that one. She’ll drag you into her web of lies and spit you out when she’s done. You mark my words, girl – you’ll rue making a friend of her. You should’ve come to Old Violet. I’d look out for you;
I’d help you find your way. Here, give me your hand and let me read you.’

Violet grabbed her hand before she could snatch it away. She now sat with it clutched between hers, rubbing Sylvie’s palm with her filthy thumbs and peering at it intently, her bony nose almost touching it. She rocked slightly as she held on tightly and Sylvie was wafted by her sour odour. It repulsed her in a way that Mother Heggy’s strange scent never did. The other sister sat down too, wedging Sylvie between them, and fingered a long strand of her silver hair. Sylvie felt trapped.

‘Well blessed be!’ muttered Violet. ‘Blessed be. ‘Tis the maiden and the mother, but not the crone. Oh no, not the crone.’

‘Do you see, sister?’ cried the other woman. ‘Tis clear?’

‘No, Vetchling, ’tis not clear. Like moonlight through dark clouds – only glimpses. She’ll suffer, this one, how she’ll suffer! Her heart will be broken. The place of the hares, that’s part of it – moonlight and the black zigzag on silver. Three of ’em joined, chasing around in the dance and never finding what they seek. Not until ‘tis too late, not until ‘tis far too late to save her.’

Old Violet released Sylvie’s hand abruptly and wiped her own dirty ones on her shawl as if Sylvie had somehow tainted her. She shook her grizzled head, staring into Sylvie’s eyes, and in their black depths Sylvie saw something that shocked her. She saw pity.

‘Just look at her, acting as if there’s nothing wrong! I’d like to go over and slap her.’

‘Don’t be silly, Holly,’ said Dawn. ‘I feel sorry for her. She’s all on her own – maybe I should go and sit with her.’

‘Don’t! She’s on her own for a good reason – nobody likes her. And I’m not surprised after what she’s done. Poor Buzz! We all knew it was coming. He can only take so much teasing and then he flips. It’s all her fault!’

‘Come on,’ said Dawn. ‘You’re being unreasonable, Holly. Sylvie says she always made it clear she wasn’t interested.’

‘Oh yeah!’ said Rainbow. ‘As if we’d believe that! Remember that time they were caught cuddling in the music room? I’ve
seen them together messing about on the lawns too. And if she wasn’t interested, why did she go into the maze with him?’

‘True, that was a bit stupid,’ said Dawn.

‘I don’t know about stupid – asking for it, more like,’ said Holly bitterly.

The girls sat around on the squashy cushions in the Great Barn, ostensibly sewing patchwork hexagons together for quilts. But this Dark Moon, Holly’s group wasn’t getting much work done. Although Buzz had been gone for some time, the incident had been raked up again that morning by an e-mail Fennel had received from him.

‘I can’t believe he wants a photo of her,’ said Holly. ‘Why? Somebody tell me that!’

Dawn shrugged, trying to keep her stitches small and even.

‘He’s obviously still crazy about her.’

‘The bitch! How does she do it? Goddess, I hate her!’

July and Wren came to join them, flopping down on the cushions.

‘You’re not still on about the photo?’ groaned Wren. ‘Get over it, Holly. It’s no big deal.’

‘But I miss him! It’s so boring here without him. I’ve hardly seen him since May when he went off to do his exams. I’ve e-mailed him since he was banished, but all he ever wants to know is how Sylvie is, and now he’s asking for a photo! I hope nobody sends him one.’

‘I thought I might send him a sketch,’ said Rainbow. ‘I’ve got a few in my book.’

‘What? Why on earth do you want to draw
her
? Are you mad?’

‘She’s beautiful,’ said Rainbow. ‘And there’s something about her that’s hard to catch; I’m determined to get it.’

‘You’re so talented, Rainbow,’ said Dawn. ‘You must go to art school when you’re old enough.’

‘Maybe, but I don’t see it could be any better than studying here at Stonewylde. Merewen’s a brilliant artist and she’s also a great teacher. I’m learning a lot from her and once you get past her gruffness, she’s really kind. I don’t think any boring old art
teacher in the Outside World could be better than her. But I’ll tell you what, Holly – just to cheer you up I’ll scan my drawing of Yul and print you a copy.’

‘Really? Have you got it here now? I thought you said you’d never part with it.’

‘A copy won’t hurt. Here, it’s somewhere in the middle of the book. But be careful – no grubby fingerprints please.’

The girls huddled around Rainbow’s sketchbook and located the drawing of Yul on the Altar Stone, his body arched and arms outstretched for the sunset.

‘You’ve captured him perfectly,’ said Dawn. ‘Hasn’t he changed over the past few months?’

‘He’s gorgeous!’ breathed Holly. ‘Although I hate him too. Did you see the way he was at the Equinox dance? Just didn’t want to know. When I think back to the Spring Equinox – I had him wrapped round my little finger back then. He was all over me, and he even had that fight with Buzz because of me! Why doesn’t he want me anymore?’

‘Maybe he fancies someone else,’ said July.

‘What, some stupid Village girl? I don’t think so – he’s always seemed a bit too … special for some gormless girl in a shawl, and he wasn’t with anyone at the dance, was he? No, I don’t think it’s that.’

‘He was sitting with Sylvie, wasn’t he?’ mused Wren. ‘When we found him for the Flying Sheaf? They were outside the Barn on a bench together.’

‘No way!’ shouted Holly, ignoring the stares from other women. ‘No – surely not? She can’t have got her claws into him too!’

‘I’m sure she hasn’t,’ said Dawn soothingly. ‘Wren, don’t start stirring. You’re speculating – just leave it.’

‘Well look at her now!’ exclaimed Rainbow. ‘That’s Yul’s sister isn’t it? Going over to sit with Sylvie?’

Sylvie sensed someone approaching. Feeling awkward and self-conscious, she’d been huddled in a corner trying to hide herself away. She wished her mother was here so she’d have somebody
to talk to now the Hallfolk girls were openly ostracising her. Dawn was the only one who still talked to her and even she kept away when the gang were about. Sylvie knew they all blamed her for Buzz’s banishment. Normally she didn’t let it bother her and she could avoid them at the Hall, other than in the classroom. But in the Barn for the Dark Moon menstruation gathering it was impossible to act as if nothing were wrong. Sylvie tried to sew her patchwork pieces and pretend she didn’t care, but the day stretched ahead emptily, and tomorrow did too. She hoped maybe Dawn was coming to sit with her after all.

But she looked up to see a pretty Village girl approaching and knew that this must be Rosie, for she had the same dark curls and slanted grey eyes as her brother. Sylvie smiled shyly, delighted that someone was prepared to talk to her at last.

‘Come and sit with me,’ she said warmly. ‘I think I know who you are.’

The girl sat on the bench next to her and smiled back, picking up Sylvie’s hexagons and examining them.

‘Oh no, please don’t look! They’re terrible – I’d never sewn anything before I came here. I’d love to sew properly but nobody has shown me how and I just can’t get the hang of it. Don’t look at them – it’s so embarrassing!’

Rosie laughed.

‘I only came over to say hello, miss. I think we went through the same nightmare with a certain person.’

For a moment Sylvie thought she meant the moondancing with Magus, but then she remembered Buzz and nodded with a grimace.

‘Please – I’m Sylvie, not “miss”. And yes, I heard he attacked you first. It sounded awful.’

‘I was so frightened,’ said Rosie, shaking the curls from her eyes in a familiar gesture. ‘There was something mad about him, more than just a lad wanting a bit of fun. He were so vicious about it, like a dog gone crazed.’

‘He was the same with me – terrifying. I think if those gardeners hadn’t come in time he’d have killed me! I’m so grateful
to them. Magus said he didn’t want me to talk to anyone about it but I think everyone knows now, don’t they?’

‘Oh aye, ‘tis common knowledge that Buzz attacked you too. Now they’re saying that’s why he were banished and ‘twere nothing to do with forcing himself on me. But I reckon it were because of both of us, and anyhow, makes no difference why he’s gone. I’m just pleased he has.’

‘Yes, it’s a relief knowing he won’t be coming back, isn’t it? But I’m not very popular with them now. They say I encouraged him, led him on.’

Sylvie nodded towards the group of Hallfolk girls spread out in the centre monopolising the large cushions.

‘Oh, they’re not worth bothering about, stupid Hallfolk,’ said Rosie, then gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh miss, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean …’

Sylvie laughed. ‘It’s okay. I’m really not one of them. I can’t stand them either and you’re right – they
are
stupid.’