Second Night (10 page)

‘That's nice! Say it again. I want to hear how you pronounce it.'

‘Verthandi,' he repeated, lightening the
er
almost to
air
before the soft
th
.

Sara put her head on one side. ‘Will you always call me that?'

‘If you want.'

‘I do want.'

‘Then I will always think of you as Verthandi even if I don't remember to say it. How's that?'

She grinned. ‘It's good.'

‘That leaves me as the Norn of the Future,' said Jemima. ‘So what's my name?'

‘You are
Skuld
.'

Jemima pulled a disappointed face. ‘That sounds too much like school to me.'

‘The
d
on the end makes it nothing like school, not even by implication.'

‘I'd rather be a sibyl than a Norn.'

‘Technically they are one and the same thing.'

She shrugged and smiled. ‘Whatever, I'll stick with Sibylla.'

Caz watched his sister mixing the dough, listening to her happy laughter now that her concern for him was eased. Maddie took his empty cup and filled it. The sugar bowl was empty. She gave him the box. He smiled his thanks, dropping the crystal cubes into the coffee one at a time, letting the bubbles rise and burst… another cube… more bubbles… another cube.... more bubbles.

Is our family cursed?
he wondered yet again.
Whatever it is that leads me to World Tree could also take my sister. I should be telling her what a bargain with the Goddess might really mean, but she would never believe me. I don't blame her. I wouldn't believe me either.

Sara interrupted his reverie. ‘What do they look like, these Norns? Are they beautiful?'

‘They're supposed to be crones.'

‘So I am a crone who is stuck in the past,' observed Maddie.

‘Only because you let us keep you there,' he answered quietly. ‘You're wasted on us, Ma. We're no fun for you. One day you'll admit it and decide to get on with your life.'

‘Then maybe I should take more notice of Verthandi,' she said, smiling at Sara.

Caz looked from one to the other. The scent of conspiracy hung in the air. ‘What's going on?'

They laughed.

‘Women's stuff,' said Jemima demurely.

CHAPTER 14

Alan waited until the breakfast was cleared away on Monday morning before he tried out the key to the mysterious cupboard in the office. Daisy and John were busy in the herb garden. The horses were due to be shod and Maddie was in the yard waiting for the farrier. Blue was ordered to stay in his bed beside the stove in the kitchen.

The atmosphere in the office was heavy with chemical smells of sealant and paint. Alan put down his tools and opened the window. Someone had written
lift-off
in the dust on the ledge. The doors had been partially stripped of layers of their old chipped paint and the walls were a mass of sanded, white filler tracks. The telephone stood on a chair by the door under a plastic bag.

He hung the spotlight on the hook in the ceiling directly above the trap door that John had discovered and set about lifting out the screws. The heads were pitted and scratched but the heavy trap lifted easily when all the holes were clear, opening out on well-greased hinges to lay flat on the floor behind it. Alan dangled the spotlight into the dark opening. A flight of stone steps led down into what looked like another wine cellar. He lowered the light on its long cable until it touched the floor at the bottom, selected a long-handled hammer and a pickaxe from the pile of tools and went down the stairs.

As usual in the manor wine cellars, the walls were divided into sections by heavy wooden beams in-filled with patterned brick, leaving a narrow space between the big, custom-built racks arranged opposite each other in each section. These racks were empty and covered in a layer of fine white dust that looked and tasted like cement, and there was a big open space at the far end of the cellar where the stone floor showed signs of having been hastily swept before the trapdoor was sealed.

Alan paced the cellar from end to end and side to side, comparing its size and location with the rest of the house. Where the empty space appeared to extend beyond the foundations, the bricks in the two sections facing each other appeared to have been more recently built than the others. There had been no attempt to follow the usual pattern, and the mortar was weak and crumbling in places. He paced the floor once more to be sure of his calculations.

This end must sit outside the level of the old garden wall under the path,
he thought,
but the supporting beams are still sound. I don't believe the bricks were put there just to fill in a hole. So let's see what they really do
.

He swung the pickaxe at the wall on the north side. The first blow sent a cloud of mortar dust billowing out into the cellar. When he hit the wall a second time, long cracks appeared between the bricks and the beams. The wall shuddered and wavered under the third blow, and the top half fell in with the fourth. When the dust had cleared, he saw another open space dimly lit by daylight that was filtering down what looked like a wide passageway opening out on the opposite wall. He smashed down what was left of the brick infill and climbed over the rubble.

The underground room he had uncovered was twice the width he had anticipated, a good eight strides wide and fifteen strides in length. The walls had been rendered. Only one corner on the wall above the passage opening was mouldered green with damp. There were tethering rings let into the cement at intervals down both sides and a long harness hook hanging from the ceiling. He turned a tap at the end of a long pipe disappearing into the wall and a gush of water ran out over the floor. With growing excitement, he walked up the sloping passage that he guessed must follow the line of the garden wall. The light was coming in though the knotholes in a line of planks that had been nailed to the back of the old shed in the garden on the other side.

He returned to the cellar and began smashing the pickaxe into the bricks on the wall on the south side, until the layers of stones and earth behind them gave way and collapsed. The air in the dark space beyond was wholesome, as he knew it would be. At last he knew why the full extent of that hidden underground earthwork had been built so high and so wide. It wasn't just put there for people to make use of. Horses were meant to go that way too.

CHAPTER 15

At twenty-six minutes to three that same afternoon, Caz put his empty flask on the counter in the coffee shop. There was no sign of Lauren. There was still time to leave but everything told him this girl wouldn't give up so easily.

The waitress allowed herself a rare smile. ‘The usual fill-up?'

‘Thanks Mary.'

‘And one for the road while you're waiting?'

‘You're a star.'

He sat on the stool at the end of the counter cradling the hot cup and assimilating the caffeine-blast. Mary cut a corner off the slab of chocolate cake, wrapped it and put it down in front of him.

‘I know, I know, ' she said gruffly when she saw him about to protest. ‘It'll keep for later.'

Melanie had slipped him a note as he was leaving.

Band practice report re. LTT: Seems okay, wants everyone at her Hallowe'en party, will be gone ‘back home' by Christmas. Love you, Mel.

Dear Mel,
he thought fondly.
No matter what I do, she's always there for me. Maybe I'll end up marrying her some day, but only if I can be sure she'll ride into battle with me. Come to think of it, I don't even know if she
can
ride.
The idea made him smile.

Meanwhile he had to make up his mind what to do about Lauren. There was a private room on the first floor that Mary let him use when the place was crowded and he needed some space. It was handy when a girl had to be let down gently, but he sensed that this one would be more of a challenge than most.

Oh, why not?
he decided.
I've had a tough couple of days and she won't be around long enough to be a problem. If all else fails it won't take much to make her hate me. Maybe we'll both be gone by Christmas, but in very different directions.

‘Is there anyone upstairs, Mary?' he asked.

‘Are you expecting someone?'

‘Maybe.'

Mary folded her arms across her ample bosom. ‘Planning a quick getaway out through the back, are you?'

‘It's always an option.'

‘As long as she doesn't end up crying on my shoulder, like the last one.'

Caz grinned, shamefaced. ‘She won't, I promise. Could you tell her where I am?'

Mary slapped a tray on the counter. ‘What's she having?'

Caz shrugged. ‘Cappuccino?'

‘In the book?'

‘No, she's paying, and for me too.'

‘So maybe she'll be standing you up for a change,' she remarked dryly.

‘Let's hope.'

Mary didn't need to be told which girl.
They come in all bright-eyed and bushytailed,
she thought,
and here she comes, this one more than most by the look of her.

Lauren glanced at her watch. It was ten to three, but Caz was nowhere to be seen. She saw the waitress nodding in her direction and went to the counter. Mary pointed to the stairs. ‘He's up there. Tell him I'll bring the tray in a couple of minutes.'

Caz heard the bare wooden boards creaking as Lauren walked up the steep staircase. He thought it unlikely that Mary would find this one crying on her shoulder when he was done with her. She had the most confident heartbeat he had ever heard, equally attractive and occasionally chillingly repellent. Just for a moment it faltered as she paused, whether in doubt or to take a breath, he didn't know. It was beating more strongly than ever, and her smile was dazzling when she reached the top of the stairs.

‘Hello,' he said.

She gestured at the dark oak beams and the wainscoting. ‘I didn't realise there was more to this place. It's enormous! And so old! How come you're up here?''

‘I'm a very good customer.'

‘And very good customers get to sit out of the crowd. Is that it?'

‘Something like that.'

She held his gaze. Her eyes were bright. She reached down, touching his cheek and then prodding gently at the back of his hand.

‘Why?' he asked, enjoying the feeling of her fingers on his skin.

‘I'm checking you're not just an illusion.'

That was perceptive,
he thought.
She'll be a good test for my vows. She might even be interesting.

He tapped the bench beside him. ‘Sit down,' he said.

CHAPTER 16

Genista Peacock had the grossly annoying habit of knocking at her daughter's bedroom door and walking in without waiting to be asked. Bryony was sitting in front of her laptop, her phone clamped between the side of her head and her shoulder, dividing her attention between the screen and the big mirror on the wall behind the desk as she tapped the keys.

‘Parent raid!' she said loudly, glaring at her mother. Mirror Girl rolled her eyes. ‘I'm talking to Jen. Do you mind?'

‘You can talk to her any time.' Genista stepped around the assortment of shoeboxes on the floor and dumped a heap of travel brochures on the desk, saying peremptorily, ‘Choose!'

Bryony immediately cut the call. ‘Ski mags! Got to go!' She sifted through the pile and chose one that looked expensive. ‘I thought Granddad said he wasn't going to pay.'

Genista went to the window and stood behind the curtain, peering down the road in the direction of the church. ‘He'll pay.'

‘When are we going?'

‘New Year.'

Bryony glanced sideways at her mother and pursed her lips. ‘Is Rodney leaving his wife then?'

Genista's attention was fixed on the comings and goings around the removal van parked outside the rectory cottage. ‘He won't have to. I told him I'd had enough. I'm tired of playing second fiddle.'

Bryony smirked. ‘Off to church, are we?'

‘No, I'm going to work.'

‘Well, the pub's over the road in the other direction, in case you hadn't noticed.'

‘I know. I'm going to get Si to do a Hallowe'en night. Are you interested?'

‘No, and no one else will be either. Get away from that window, will you! This is my room, in case you've forgotten. I'm not having everyone telling the world I'm ogling the new vicar.'

‘I'm not ogling,' said Genista. ‘I'm just having a look, that's all.'

Bryony fixed horrified eyes on the string of fake pearls at her mother's throat and took in the rest of her outfit. ‘Where did you get that dreadful stuff? Please tell me you didn't go into the charity shop!'

Genista left the window and stood in front of the long mirror behind the bedroom door, entirely oblivious to Mirror Girl's outraged expression behind her. ‘I wasn't going to go spending good money on this sort of stuff until I'd had a chance to see how it worked out, was I?'

‘Until you found out if he fancied you or not, you mean,' snarled Bryony. ‘My mother in a charity shop! Oh, please!'

Genista arranged the collar of the white blouse to offset the cheap beads around her neck. She hoped her heels were high enough to make the black skirt look more attractive when she walked. ‘It's quite classy, don't you think?'

‘Oh, very!' jeered her ungracious offspring. ‘Never mind the hair!'

Genista bunched up her elaborately streaked tresses, pulling them back from her face. She sucked in her cheeks, turning her head from side to side to see the effect. ‘Shall I put it up?'

‘Don't bother, dear.'

‘I think it makes me look more sophisticated.'

Bryony groaned and threw the brochure on the floor. She picked out another that looked positively luxurious. ‘This one doesn't look too bad. We get our own ski instructor.'