Eternal (4 page)

Again, I felt exposed and vulnerable, as though I were in ful view of the enemy. I tried to shake off my mood and turned my thoughts back to Maria. She must have stood on this same step and seen the same views when she had been a Wyldcliffe student. I wondered what she had thought of the school, and who her friends had been, and whether she had ever mourned for her Gypsy mother. What had she known and felt and seen at Wyldcliffe that could help me now?

“Maria?” I reached out for her in my thoughts. “Maria, can you hear me? Are we stil in danger? What should I do?” The wind stirred the leaves in the branches of the great oak trees that grew on either side of the drive, but no answers came to me. I stifled my disappointment and glanced at my watch. The next moment Evie walked up to the front steps from the direction of the stables.

“Hey,” she said quietly. She smiled at me, but her eyes seemed to hold tears. I smiled back. I wanted to help her, now that she was back at the place where Sebastian had lived and died. Just being here must be an effort for Evie, I thought, and I wished I knew how to comfort her.

She doesn’t want your comfort, she wants Josh, said a nasty little voice in my head, but I ignored it. I linked arms with Evie, and we set off walking down the drive. “Tel me al about it, if it helps,” I said.

Evie squeezed my arm grateful y. “Thanks, Sarah.

You’re so good. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Good Sarah. Kind Sarah. That’s what I had to be—

today, tomorrow, forever.

We slipped through the gates at the end of the drive, into the lane that led to the vil age. In the other direction a path wound its way up to the moors, and to the places that had burned themselves into our memories—Uppercliffe Farm, where Agnes had hidden her little daughter from the eyes of the world, and Fairfax Hal , Sebastian’s childhood home.

I heard Evie catch her breath. “It’s so odd,” she said in a low voice. “This place is ful of such beauty and yet such pain. I keep thinking, I first met Sebastian here, I first saw Agnes there, we first made our Circle there . . . but now that’s al over.”

“Is it?”

She looked at me with a faintly stubborn expression. “It has to be. I’ve been thinking about it a lot during the holidays. Sebastian wanted me to move on, and I have to do that, for his sake as wel as my own. I have to try and live like he wanted me to—I have to try to be happy, so that his death was worthwhile. It was his gift to me as wel as mine to him. I have to try and live now as though meeting Sebastian never happened.”

It sounded like something she had told herself over and over.

“But what about the Mystic Way? What about your powers?” Evie’s own mystic element was water, and the term before, she had used the Talisman, the necklace that was her precious heirloom, to share Agnes’s powers of fire. “You can’t pretend that wasn’t real. You’re stil part of that.”

“No, I don’t mean it wasn’t real,” Evie replied, shaking her head. “Loving Sebastian was the most real thing I ever experienced. But I can’t live in the past. It’s over now. And I think perhaps our powers were lent to us to save him, just for that time and for that specific purpose. To save one immortal soul. That was worth doing, wasn’t it?” Her eyes shone with tears, but she held them back. “I’m so grateful that we could be part of the Mystic Way to help Sebastian, and so grateful for everything you and Helen did for me, but . . . wel . . .” Her voice faltered, and she swal owed hard.

“Wel . . . what? What is it, Evie?”

Her expression hardened. “Sebastian is dead, Sarah. I don’t want to rake everything up again. I just can’t. I don’t think I even want to talk about it anymore. We have to move forward.”

“And is Josh part of moving forward?” I asked casual y, but I felt a kick of jealousy in the pit of my stomach as I spoke the words. I drew my arm out of Evie’s.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I told Josh last term I wasn’t ready for another relationship. Oh, I hate that word!

It sounds so pompous.” She reached down and picked a handful of daisies from the long grass at the side of the lane and began to knot them together in a chain. “I just don’t know. I real y like Josh. He’s warm and kind . . . and ful of life. He makes me feel like the sun is shining.” She suddenly threw the flowers to the ground. “We’re just friends. That’s enough for the moment, isn’t it? I don’t want to worry and analyze everything. I just want to be happy.”

“Don’t we al ,” I said, unable to keep a note of bitterness from my voice.

“God, that sounded real y superficial and selfish, didn’t it? I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that everything has been so tough.” Evie gave a long sigh. “When Frankie got sick and I had to come here, my life changed. I stil miss her terribly. And then losing Sebastian . . . Thank God I’ve got you and Helen.”

“And Josh.”

“Yeah, and Josh too.” Evie looked at me anxiously. “You don’t mind, do you, Sarah, me being friends with Josh?”

“Mind? Why should I mind?” I forced myself to smile. “It’s great that you’ve got someone to talk to, honestly. But you must realize that Josh wants to be more than your friend.

You might end up hurting him.”

Again, the slightly stubborn look came over her face.

“Every connection—friendship, love, whatever—can be painful. It’s al a huge risk. Life is a risk. Josh is prepared to take the risk. Don’t you see, Sarah, that we have to be ready for anything? We have to be big enough for whatever happens next. And does it real y matter that things are sometimes painful, if you’re real y feeling and—

and doing—and experiencing life? Sebastian told me to live, good and bad, joy and sorrow. That’s al I’m trying to do.”

I didn’t reply. That was my problem, I thought dul y. I hadn’t done or experienced anything, not real y. I had been too timid, afraid of hurting people, afraid of getting hurt.

And al that had left me with was this anxious, aching emptiness. At least Evie was alive, like a bright flame.

We walked the rest of the way in silence and soon reached the vil age with its rows of cottages and blackened stone church. The vil age store was closed, and there was no one about except a solitary old man walking his dog.

“Where do you think Helen wil be?”

“Where else?” I led the way to the churchyard. Slanting rows of headstones and black yew trees gave the place a gloomy air, despite the bright bunches of flowers that had been left here and there on the graves. We spotted Helen sitting alone by an old-fashioned tomb that was overshadowed by a large statue of an angel. This was the earthly resting place of Lady Agnes Templeton. The local people whispered various superstitions about this spot.

There were rumors that her ghost sometimes walked up to the door of the church and mysteriously passed inside, and that touching her tomb could heal the sick. They even claimed that one day Agnes would return to Wyldcliffe in its hour of greatest need. Most of it was just gossip and hysteria, but even Miss Scratton had said that her grave was a place of protection for us. I could understand why Helen wanted to sit here peaceful y before facing the new term, trying to draw strength from the past. She had never fitted in at Wyldcliffe, and most of the students gave her a hard time.

Helen was sitting on the ground, with her arms clasped around her knees. Her fair hair tumbled around her face and hid her expression. For a moment I thought she was crying, but she jumped up and smiled determinedly when I cal ed her name, and offered me her cool cheek to kiss.

“How are you, Helen?” I asked.

“Oh . . . I don’t know . . . fine, I suppose,” she answered, but she didn’t meet my eye. “I was just thinking about Agnes. Whether we would ever see her again.”

The three of us stood in front of the tomb without saying anything; then we linked hands and paid silent tribute to our secret sister. The stone angel held an inscription that had been weathered by time and wind and rain. It read LADY AGNES TEMPLETON, BELOVED OF THE LORD. For an instant it seemed to me that the angel faded and Agnes stood there in its place, looking down at us with love and serenity in her mild eyes. Then she vanished too and instead a figure dressed in black snarled at us, snapping with hatred. The next second everything was just as it had been: the quiet graveyard, the moss-covered tomb, and my friends lost in their thoughts. I stepped back and wrenched my hands from theirs. They didn’t seem to have seen anything.

“Let’s get back to school,” I said hurriedly. “We shouldn’t be out late. They’l soon be ringing the bel for supper.”

“Is it that time already?” asked Evie in surprise.

Helen glanced at me searchingly, then sighed. “Yeah, let’s go back. Might as wel face it.”

I hurried them along, marching briskly back down the lane and toward the school gates.

“So, did you see your father in the holidays, Helen?”

asked Evie.

“Yes.”

“How was it?”

“Mmm . . . strange.”

“Strange how?” I asked.

“Wel . . .” Helen frowned. “I thought it was going to be wonderful, but it wasn’t like that. Because I’ve only just met Tony, I don’t real y feel any connection with him yet. But the connection must be there al the same. I mean, he is actual y my father. I stil can’t real y take it in.”

“I guess it wil take time,” I said reassuringly.

Helen looked troubled, then said in a rush, “It’s weird to think of him being in love with my mother. He showed me photos of when they were young, before she left him when she found out that she was expecting me. He talked about how beautiful she was, ful of spirit and adventure.” She hunched her shoulders miserably. “I never knew that side of her.”

It must have been so hard for Helen, I thought, being brought up in an orphanage, not knowing either of her parents. And then Mrs. Hartle had sought her out and brought her to Wyldcliffe, yet she had forbidden Helen to tel anyone that she was the High Mistress’s daughter. And when Helen had refused to use her elemental powers to join Mrs. Hartle’s coven, her mother had rejected her utterly. Only after the High Mistress’s death last term had Miss Scratton been able to track down Helen’s father.

“What’s your dad like?” asked Evie. “Is he married?”

“Yes. His wife, Rachel, is very nice. She’s a doctor.

They have two little boys.”

“So they are your brothers? Helen, that’s so great!” I exclaimed. I would have loved to have a brother. My mother had told me that she had lost a baby boy the year after I was born and had not been able to have any more children after that, so Helen’s news touched me deeply. It was strange, I thought, how we were al only daughters, Helen and Evie and Agnes and myself. But now Helen’s life could be about to change completely. “You’l have a real family now. That’s wonderful.”

Helen’s smile was like a wintry ghost. “Yes, of course.”

“So what’s wrong?” We had nearly reached the school.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s so hard to explain. I don’t want to be ungrateful, but they are already a family—Tony and Rachel and the boys. They’re so happy with one another.

They don’t need me. I know they tried hard to welcome me, make me feel at home. But that was just it, we were al trying to belong to one another and somehow, that made it worse. Tony is my father, but he’s actual y a stranger. I don’t think I’l ever fit in with them.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “I don’t think I’l ever belong anywhere.”

“You belong with us,” I said firmly, “doesn’t she, Evie?”

At that moment I vowed that I would look after them both, whatever happened. My heart was tel ing me that Evie was wrong. The Mystic Way hadn’t finished with us yet. The signs were al around us. My dreams, the sound of drums, a brief glimpse of a snarling face—this val ey was stil ful of danger for me and my sisters. I had to forget Josh, I had to forget Cal and anything that wasn’t connected with our survival. “We al belong together,” I repeated. “We’re sisters. Remember?”

“Sisters,” whispered Evie, and Helen murmured, “Thank you, Sarah.”

From now on, I promised myself, I was only going to be what they needed me to be: strong, supportive, and calm, like the quiet hil s. Every other secret longing and desire I would lock in an invisible box and bury out of sight.

I took my place next to Helen and Evie at the long wooden dining table. The vaulted, chil y room was fil ing up with girls. Although they were different ages and sizes, they al had the same Wyldcliffe uniform and the same superficial air of serene, privileged confidence. A few moments later a bel rang and the mistresses began to walk into the dining hal , wearing black academic gowns that made them look like a flock of crows. The students rose respectful y to their feet, al two hundred girls. Yet I thought it seemed that the dining room wasn’t quite as ful as usual.

I also realized that I couldn’t see Velvet anywhere, but before I had time to wonder where she was, Miss Scratton began to speak.

“It gives me great pleasure to welcome you back to Wyldcliffe as the new High Mistress of our school. The summer term is traditional y a happy time, and I intend to make it so for you this year, particularly after the sad events of last term. I also aim to maintain the high academic standards set by Mrs. Hartle, whose loss I am sure we al stil feel.” Miss Scratton paused and looked shrewdly at the sea of faces in front of her, then continued.

“At Wyldcliffe we are very aware of the past. Tradition has almost been our motto. As a historian, I am natural y in favor of valuing the lessons of the past. However, we must look to the future. In other words, we must modernize.”

A murmur of surprise ran around the room. It was as though she had said, “We must burn down the school.” A few of the teachers on the platform next to her looked sour with disapproval.

“I have arranged for our rather meager stock of computers to be upgraded and new books to be ordered for the library,” Miss Scratton went on. “The unused rooms in the red corridor, beyond the library, have been converted into common rooms for students to use in the evenings. They have been equipped with radio and television, games and magazines. Of course, these new facilities must be used sensibly and only when al prep and study has been done. In addition, I am determined to open Wyldcliffe’s doors to the local community. For too long we have been regarded as exclusive and excluding, and this must change. I have arranged for a group of children from the vil age elementary school to come once a week to use our swimming pool and tennis courts. I hope this wil be the beginning of many such schemes. There wil also be a program of activities this term that wil take us out of the school wal s and into the wider world. This wil culminate in a summer celebration. For the younger girls there wil be a garden party and swimming races. For you older students I have arranged a dance at the boys’ school St. Martin’s Academy, which as you know is located some twenty miles away in the town of Wyldford Cross. If this event is a success, we wil invite the gentlemen of St. Martin’s to a Christmas bal here at the Abbey. Ladies, we must let the light into Wyldcliffe.”