Freya's Quest (32 page)

‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ve learnt it’s better to sit with the truth. I had to fly over specially to visit my mother to get her version of events. She’s at an open prison in Kent now. My evidence helped to convict her, my ex-husband, and most of her other cronies.’

‘Yes, I took a keen interest in the case. You did very well.’

‘Thanks. There were times when I thought I would never find the courage to go through with it. It was like reliving the abuse all over again.’

‘So what did you learn from Veronica?’ the doctor said, impatiently.

‘Well, I had to bully it out of her. She said they had this big argument, more or less as recounted in the manuscript.’

‘When he found out the real reason behind Seraphina’s suicide?’

‘Yes….Except she disclosed directly to Dylan, of course. She reckons this took place on 2 August, 1987.’

‘How could she be so precise?’

‘It was the anniversary of Sera’s death. The tree had fallen down in the storm in the early hours. When he’d found the medallion under its roots later that morning, and realized the significance of the date, it felt like an ill-omen; as if she was calling him from the grave. Apparently, he’d bombarded my mother with anguished questions about why Sera might’ve killed herself. That’s why she finally broached the subject with him.’

‘I see.’

‘This was also the exact date at which he set Freya’s arrival in the story.’

‘Oh, now that’s very significant.’ The doctor paused, deep in thought, scratching her head with the end of her pencil. ‘So, come to think of it, is the figure seventeen: Seraphina was seventeen when she died; it was the seventeenth anniversary of her death; and Freya’s age was two times seventeen in the story – the age Seraphina would’ve been had she lived.’

‘Yes, of course. In some ways Freya is a projection of what Sera might’ve become if she’d aborted her child instead of killing herself. A simple life as a secretary would’ve taken her away from all the stress. But Freya was nothing like Sera beyond that.’

‘I see….’ She took down some more notes. ‘And the date also means he must’ve been writing at a manic pace. It could only’ve taken him two months to complete the manuscript!’

‘Well, he was accustomed to locking himself in his tower for days with his writing. Up all night. No sleep. But never that fast. You sure it was only two months?’

‘Yes. Positive. Just under two months, in actual fact. It had to be. We sectioned him at the end of September.’

‘When my ex-husband found him running naked round the garden?’

‘Yes.’

‘I hadn’t realized it was that early. I was abroad, of course. It took a while for the news to filter through to me.’

The doctor nodded, looking pensive.

‘I believe my mother’s confession brought on his final collapse.’

‘I would agree. Now she has confirmed her part in the manuscript is true. Do you believe her?’

‘I have no reason to think she’s not telling the truth this time.’

‘Even though she’s spent most of her life lying to you all?’

‘Yes. You see, she’s dying. Cancer’s eating her away. Just like the fate of Dylan’s mother. And our father. She’s not got long left.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m furious with her. She was a terrible mother. It saddens me to say it, but it’s the truth. How could she have stood by and let all that abuse happen?’

‘Only she can tell you that.’

‘She has no answer. There is no defence.’ She was spitting the words out like bullets from a machine gun. Anger was still alive deep down within her. Only the responsibility of raising her daughter had kept her from her sister’s fate. But she was a survivor.

The doctor guided her to a seat in the foyer. They sat in silence for a long time. After a nurse had brought her the cup of tea the psychiatrist had requested, Janis spoke again:

‘I don’t regret my relationship with Dylan. Even though he turns out to be my half-brother. It sounds so dirty. Yet he is the only man I’ve ever really loved. If I’d known the torture he was going through, and the real truth behind Sera’s death, I would’ve condoned his behaviour and tried to get medical help for him sooner. Instead, I ran off to Chamonix, just when he needed me most.’

‘Don’t punish yourself. Too many people have done that in this case already. Remember, you had enough of your own demons to fight without having to think about other people’s. You were too close to help each other. So much of your histories were entwined.’

Janis seemed to hear this. She paused, as if in deep reflexion. ‘What makes it even more tragic is realizing Sera need never’ve taken her own life. And thus Dylan need not’ve become sick.’

The doctor gave her a quizzical look.

‘E-J is Dylan’s daughter. She is a perfectly normal child with above-average intelligence. There’s no sign of any genetic abnormalities. There’s every likelihood Sera’s baby wouldn’t’ve turned out any different.’

The doctor put her arm around the visitor’s shoulder as Janis began to cry. What Janis had said had not even entered the doctor’s own mind at all, even with the evidence of E-J’s paternity from the manuscript.

‘But what I don’t understand is who Freya was? Nor why he joined all those real life events together with her. She was never there.’

‘Exactly, Mrs Norton, don’t you see?’

‘No. It’s never explained. The manuscript breaks off.’

‘I don’t know who or what inspired Freya, but she came straight from his subconscious. A figment of his powerful imagination. A literary device. Freya allowed him to unlock all the traumatic events and emotions he’d kept in separate compartments for so long. Bringing together all the fragments of his own disintegrating personality like some giant jigsaw puzzle.’

Janis looked confused. This was too close to the outskirts of her own “mad bits” for her to swallow.

‘My hypothesis,’ the doctor continued, ’is that he probably sat down at his desk in a highly delusional state and wrote it as if it was just another novel. Only when he’d finished the book and became its reader did he realize to what purpose he’d constructed the text.’

‘And that’s when he completely cracked.’

‘Yes, I think so.’

Janis looked at the psychiatrist long and hard. And gulped. ‘And that’s when he….when he….’

‘When he dug up Sera’s grave. Yes.’

Janis started to cry again. She paused for a while, collecting herself together once more. ‘These past five years have slipped by so quickly. Everyone’s deserted him. Friends. Lovers. Even the tabloids.’

‘Yes, but not his readership.’

‘No, true. A “mysterious recluse” is what the publisher’s blurb says now. Adds to his cult reputation. Fills up his daughter’s bank account with royalties, too. But it doesn’t help him, does it?’

‘No,’ was the doctor’s clinically executed response.

‘Can I see him now, please?’ Janis asked, snivelling and wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘I’ve been dreading this. That’s why it’s taken me so long to come. But I’ve got to be brave. I can’t run away for ever.’

The doctor was struck by how childlike she looked, belying her forty-one years.

The doctor put her arm around Janis and helped her out of her seat. ‘But you’ve got to realize he’s not the Dylan you once knew.’ She waited for Janis to acknowledge this fact. ‘OK, then, if you’re sure. Come this way.’

She guided Janis through the mental institution and out into the walled garden. They walked across the lawn in silence. Now they were upon him.

Two male nurses were escorting Dylan as he took his daily constitutional outside. His hair had been shaved off. His head was bowed and his hunched back was facing towards them.

‘Why’s he wearing that!’ Janis exclaimed, pointing to the straitjacket that bound his upper body.

‘I’m afraid we can’t take any chances. He’s injured three nurses very badly in the last few months alone. Before that, he had a habit of smashing his head against walls. He had to have twenty stitches in his face and lost the sight in one eye when he put his head through a window.’

Janis flinched.

‘We thought he’d been trying to destroy his handsome face, in an effort to end the attraction women would have for him. But I was wrong. Quite wrong. His mind’s far too gone to know what he’s doing.’

Janis remained nonplussed. She couldn’t take any of this in.

The doctor tapped Dylan on the shoulder. ‘There’s someone to see you.’

Dylan turned around, supported by the two burly nurses. He looked up at Janis.

Janis was devastated by his taut, insane expression and drug-fused apathy. And the scars that crisscrossed the right-hand side of his face.

Dylan did not show any kind of recognition as he looked at his half-sister through his one good eye. He broke free from the nurses’ grip. He staggered along the lawn by the border of one of the flowerbeds.

As they watched him, they heard him murmur softly: ‘Sera….Seraphina.’

They left him in the garden, talking to himself amongst the flowers.

On the way out, Janis took the manuscript from her bag and threw it into the open fire in the hallway. Her eyes widened, as the flames consumed the pages and sent bits of burning paper up the chimney and over the hearth.

The day had finally made clear to Janis that she had lost her best friend. Her half-brother. And her lover. And that his readership had lost their favourite novelist.

Only now could she start to grieve.

THE END

Freya's Quest is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to any person is entirely coincidental. All locations are real, except for the Mill, Branthwaite Farm and Grimshaw Lodge. However, Anthony Salvin (1799-1881) was a Victorian architect, who designed many country houses, including all those described in the text.

Special thanks:

To everyone at Grosvenor House Publishing

To John Brooks, Geraldine Harris and Jocelyn Ferguson for editorial advice.

To the following people, who all read early drafts of the book and gave me valuable comments: John Wilson, Carole Brooks, Dr Ian Richards, and Karl Elliott. And also to Janet, Ellie, Lindsay and Deniz.

And particular thanks to my fiancée, Hayley Smith, who not only read the book, but has supported me with my writing and has put up with my obsession with getting it into print.

And finally, to my two children, who give me inspiration every day.

This eBook is published by

Grosvenor House Publishing Ltd

28-30 High Street, Guildford, Surrey, GU1 3EL.

www.grosvenorhousepublishing.co.uk

All rights reserved

Copyright © Julian Lawrence Brooks, 2008

The right of Julian Lawrence Brooks to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

The book cover image is copyright to Inmagine Corp LLC

ISBN 978-1-781482-13-1 in electronic format

ISBN 978-1-906210-65-6 in printed format

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.