Carved in Stone: Monochrome Destiny (20 page)

After
staring at the pictures, looking into the emotionless expressions, wondering
what they were thinking about as they sat for the artist, Robyn realised that
they were all painted locally.  In some, the manor house featured in the
background.  In others, there was the familiar headland and pebbled cove
in the distance.  The family had clearly been here for generations and
from the lavish clothing and pleasing settings, they were also the same family
whose name graced the school and the ornamental graves she had found in the
churchyard.

Finished
with the paintings, Robyn moved to the cabinets.  They held china plates
on stands, cup and saucer sets and figurines.  All items that you expect
to find in a display cabinet.  But oddly, spread throughout the normal
collection was an array of strange little objects that had no relationship to
the china: a stone with some odd carvings; a black lacquered horn from a ram; a
stone pendant with a circle carved onto it threaded on a leather thong; a small
black statue of Anubis; a blackened silver saucer with carvings embellishing
it.  There were statues of figures carved in wood or stone, some animals,
some human and some a mixture of both.  Many had oversized sex
organs.  There were so many objects that she couldn’t see them all
clearly, hidden as they were behind plates or figurines.

Robyn
was standing, looking at the collection and wondering why anyone would keep all
of this, let alone display it, when she noticed voices drifting from the hall;
raised angry voices.

She
was already near the door and moved a step closer, etiquette telling her not to
eavesdrop but curiosity winning out.  The voices continued but she couldn’t
make out the words and she simply had to listen to the conversation.  The
strange events of the last two days had thrown her off balance.  If she
could get some answers, make some sense of everything then she might be able to
put it all behind her.  Robyn needed to hear, even if it were only to find
out why Andrew was so enraged with his grandfather and she needed to know why,
of all places, Andrew had brought her here, to his grandfather, when he had
learned of her visitors.

Gently
turning the handle until the latch was just clear of the jamb, Robyn opened the
door half an inch.  The voices, instantly loud enough to hear, echoed down
the hallway.

“You
bring her to my home?” James’s voice was raised, the control finally waning.

“I
had to and you know it.” Andrew shouted back.

“Don’t
you even think about it?” James replied.

“I
have never asked you for anything,” Andrew threw back at him, “but I’m asking
now.”

“Ask
for anything, are you jesting, Andrew?” James’s voice lifted an octave as he
spoke with incredulity.

“You
know what I mean,” he spoke deeply, unnervingly.  Robyn recognised Andrews
tone, he was still furious.

“I
have done nothing but look after your interests since you came here, and this
is how you repay me?”

“I
never asked you to.”

“Of
course not, but you know I had no choice in the matter.  What would you
have had me do?  Where would you be now if I hadn’t taken you in?”

Silence
fell.  Robyn stepped back and considered shutting the door, thinking that
they may be returning but then the voices started again.  The shouting had
died down, the voices were quieter but no less heated.

“This
girl, what will she think?” James said, referring to her she presumed.

“I
don’t know, I’ve never felt this, had a connection like this before.  I
think if I have time, it will work out.  But I need time.” Andrew’s
response had lost its rage.  He no longer shouted but he emphasized every
word.

“And
you think that I have the power to. . .”

“I
know you do.” Andrew cut James off.

There
was no noise throughout the entire house as the two men considered their next
words carefully.

“I
don’t know.” James broke the silence.

“I’ll
take responsibility. There will be no trouble I assure you.  There will be
no reason.  You have my word.” Andrew seemed to be grasping for words.

“And
what is in this for me?  If I am to put myself on the line here, I need to
get something in return.” James’s tone changed, something sly crept into his
voice.

“This
is not the time for bargaining, I am asking you to do this, for me.” Andrew
replied.

“And
I have asked you to do something for me, dear boy, repeatedly.  If I am to
do this, then I want something in return.” James’s voice held cunning. He had
turned the conversation to his advantage and Robyn could hear the satisfaction.

“I
told you that I wouldn’t.” Andrew’s words were stern.

“Well
those are my terms, take it or leave it.  You know the consequences either
way.” James said haughtily.

Robyn
waited to hear Andrew’s reply.  She had no idea what they were talking about,
but felt, deep inside, that his answer was pivotal to her.  She waited in
the silence until Andrew made his choice.

“Stop
them, stop them now.  I’ll do it, but if you can’t get this sorted out, if
I see or hear one more thing, I swear, I will step in.  You don’t get what
you want until I am absolutely sure that you have held up your end.” Andrew’s
voice was calm, the fury gone.

“Alright,”
James responded quickly, “but I assure you, I will not be able to protect you,
either of you, if you can’t control her.  Do you understand that?”

“I’ll
take my chances.”

Robyn
heard a door being opened and hastily shut hers before moving over to the glass
cabinet.  Her mind was swirling.  James knew something, his words confirmed
that there had indeed been visitors at the cottage last night, and that they
were not a figment of her imagination, but how was he involved?

The
door opened and Andrew walked in and stood behind her, placing his hands on her
shoulders and drawing her to him, protectively.  James followed with a
smug expression on his face.  Whatever it was that Andrew had agreed to,
James was overjoyed about it.

“Ah,
an odd collection don’t you think?” James saw Robyn looking at the ornaments.

“Very
eclectic,” she answered.  James let out a great guffaw.

“Well
that’s my boy.”  He walked to the mantel of the fireplace and took down a
dark, wooden pipe and matches.  He lit a match, put the flame to the
tobacco in the pipe and took short, quick puffs until the tobacco was
sufficiently alight.  Thick wisps of smoke trailed up to the ceiling,
which, she noticed, had a nicotine patina.  Looking over the top of the
pipe at Andrew, he stood still for a long moment before returning his focus to
Robyn.

“Andrew
sent me all those trinkets whilst he was travelling.” James used the end of the
pipe to point to the cabinets.

“Travelling?”

“Yes
for his doctoral thesis.”

She
turned to Andrew even more puzzled “Doctorate?”

Andrew
was not about to answer, preferring to stand silently holding her but James
seemed happy to do it for him.

“Yes,
didn’t he tell you?  Symbolism in Ancient Cultures or something wasn’t
it?” he asked Andrew.

“Something
like
that.” Andrew’s voice was flat.

“Well,
Andrew sent me these little objects from all over the place.  His little
joke I think, as he was spending all my money flying around.  But I turned
the joke on him because I display them all, all my little treasures.”

Robyn
stared into the cabinet.  Andrew had a doctorate.  He had
travelled.  Travelled a lot judging by the artefacts she continued to
stare at.  When had he found the time?  Symbolism: that was an odd
choice.  Robyn knew that Andrew was a history teacher but she had
envisaged the usual route into teaching; Degree in history, Postgraduate Certificate
of Education, then
teach
.  She realised that she
actually knew nothing about history or the different courses that were on
offer.  She also knew very little about Andrew.

“I’m
terribly sorry, but I have a full day ahead of me, I was wondering what your
plans are?” James stared directly at Andrew in challenge.

“We’re
leaving.” Andrew replied tersely.

In the car,
driving away from the manor, Robyn looked at Andrew.  Although the rage
was gone, he was still on edge.  His hands held the steering wheel so
tight that his knuckles were white but Robyn was too preoccupied with the
pieces of this ever more confusing puzzle, to be concerned.

Whatever
or whoever the figures on her lawn had been, they were somehow connected to
James and he was connected to Andrew.

Robyn
was an outsider in
Porthmollek
.  That fact had
been made obvious from her first day.  But she wanted to make a life there
and Andrew clearly wanted her to stay.  Whatever it was that James wanted;
Andrew had agreed to hand it over in order to keep her there and she had to
hold on to that.  What she didn’t like however, was the way he had agreed
to control her.  Robyn would not be controlled.

She
turned to Andrew as he drove.  He was tense as he concentrated on the
road.

“Do
you want to talk about it?” She couldn’t divulge what she had overheard.

Andrew
had just taken the turn towards her cottage, but slammed on the brakes and
threw the car into the gateway of a field.  He sighed, turned off the
engine, removed the keys and leaned back in his seat.

“He’s
not my real grandfather.  My father was adopted.”  Andrew stared
straight ahead.

“I
sort of got that.”

“Yes,
I guess that it’s kind of obvious, especially to a scientist.”  He looked
down and fiddled with the keys in his hand.  She waited patiently for him
to go on. “My grandmother married James when my father was an infant.  I
don’t know much about my real family, only a name,
Obursen
. 
My father chose to keep the name rather than become a Truscott.”  The name
Truscott was said with disdain. “My grandmother, Alison, left soon afterwards,
the marriage didn’t even last a year but she left my father behind.  I
guess she figured that James could provide what she couldn’t.  James sent
him away to school, somewhere in Europe where he stayed until he met and
married my mother.” He paused for a long moment before continuing.  “They
were both killed in a road accident when I was young.” Andrew was sad, his eyes
fixed on a moment long ago and Robyn felt guilty for prying.  “I was
raised for a while by my mother’s parents in France.  James visited
frequently at first. I remember him teaching me to play cricket, sitting with
me to do homework, taking me fishing, but it wasn’t to last.  He seemed to
get bored of me and I saw less and less of him.”  Andrew shifted in his
seat and looked directly at her.  “When my grandparents died, James was
the one thing I had left.  I got in contact, but he still kept me at
arms-length.  He paid for university, funded my entire course and my
thesis but there’s no warmth in him.”  Andrew sighed.  “I’ve spent a
lot of time angry with James, but despite the fact that he’s not actually
related to me, he is my only family.  I returned once before, three years
ago.  This is my second attempt at getting through to him.  Our
relationship is, strained, to say the least, but there are things that make me
grateful to him as well.  It’s difficult.”

Andrew’s
gaze was intense and difficult to read.  The memories clearly wounded him
and Robyn understood the loss, but there was something she couldn’t quite reach
driving it all.

After
today, Robyn wondered if Andrew wasn’t as much of a puzzle as Kat’s
disappearance.

Andrew followed
Robyn home.  She couldn’t remember if the door had closed behind her when
she left and he insisted on checking the house.

The
door was shut up tight when they arrived.

Robyn
waited outside, listening intently as Andrew walked through the house. 
The concept of someone going through her things, of violating her privacy, made
her nauseous.   The unshakable feeling that her visitors had been
something other than human made that nausea pale in comparison.  She
wasn’t sure that she would ever be comfortable in the cottage again.

Andrew
came to the door.  “It’s clear.  I don’t think they got inside, but
you’d better take a look around to make sure nothing’s missing.”

Robyn
entered cautiously, the memory of last night sending shivers down her spine.
She checked the lounge and dining room first and found that nothing had
moved.  Everything was just as she’d had left it, including the dirty
dishes in the sink.  The mobile phone case was still on the dining table.

Her
nerves subsided as she climbed the stairs and found nothing amiss in the
bedrooms either.  The cottage was untouched.   Relief swept over
her as she realised that the intruders had not been in the cottage.  The
door must have closed after her frantic bid for escape.

Robyn
walked back down the stairs.

“Nothing’s
been touched.”

“Good. 
It’s over.  You don’t need to worry.” Andrew stepped towards the bottom of
the staircase to meet her.  “They won’t come again.”

“Why
did you believe me, even though there was nothing to support my story?”

“Why
would you ask me that?” his brow furrowed.

She
sighed, “Experience.”

Andrew
said nothing.

“Why
did you take me to your grandfather?”  The question had plagued her from
the moment Andrew had greeted James.

Andrew
placed his hands on her shoulders stopping her on the penultimate step. 
“The figures you saw on the lawn.  They were sent to warn you, to frighten
you.”

“They
succeeded.”  She hated that she’d been frightened and now she hated the
doubt she had.  Could Andrew be involved in this in some way? “How do you
know that?”

“I’ve
seen it before; a long time ago.”  His voice drifted away, his eyes
remembering some distant image of the past.

“I
don’t understand.”  What had he seen before?  This was all getting
surreal.

“They
were sent to terrify you enough that you would leave.  They want you
gone.”  His focus returned and his eyes drilled into her.

“Why?
Who were they? What did I do to deserve that?”  What in God’s name was
going on here?

“I
don’t know, Robyn.  What did you do?”  His voice had changed. 
She stood accused and was locked in his hold, escape impossible.  He had
manoeuvred her there on purpose.  “What did you do yesterday?” he
repeated, his tone deadly.

She
tried to look away, but Andrew already knew she was guilty.  “Um, I took
the mobile phone cover to the police.”

“I
warned you not to do that.” He was so calm.  She would have preferred
rage.

“If
they want me gone, who is ‘they’?  I know Derek Ellis must have a hand in
this but who are these people?”  Anger bubbled inside her and she
preferred to direct her rage at Derek than at Andrew.

Andrew
took a step back but his long arms continued to stop her from moving.  “I
don’t know exactly, but the locals here, the old families, they don’t like
change, they don’t like . . . disturbance.  You brought the police into
the school and the town and they don’t like people poking around.”

None
of this made any sense.  “But Kat’s missing!”  Why did no-one seem to
care?

He
caught her chin in his hand and fixed his eyes onto hers.  “No, she’s
not.  The police know where she went.  You cannot keep stirring this
up.  Can you not see the state the town is in?
The
people?
  Has it entirely escaped your attention that
Porthmollek
is on its knees at the moment?  The last
thing any of the locals want, or need, is bad press.  You have to drop
this.”

“But Kat?”

“She
left the country, Robyn.  It’s not a big mystery.  You have to let
her go.”  She studied him for a while as he stared at her calmly.  He
seemed so certain.  “You’ve had your warning.  You won’t get
another.  You’ll lose your job and there will be nothing I can do about
it.”  Each word was delivered succinctly. 

She
had thought about going to the police and telling them about the figures on the
lawn but she now knew that there would be nothing to gain by it.  She
desperately needed to find Kat and find out why she had left, but Andrew wasn’t
going to help her, in fact, he was actively going to stop her.  This town
and its small minded occupants had closed ranks and God help her, she still
wanted to be a part of it.  Could she keep searching for answers without
anyone finding out?

“Of
all the people in town, why did you take me to your grandfather about
this?”  James Truscott was clearly a man of means, but just how much power
did he wield?

“Nothing
happens here without my grandfather knowing about it.” He looked almost
ashamed, apologetic. “He heads the town council and he’s chair of the board at
school, among other initiatives.  He has the power to protect you, your
job and if anybody has the ability to stop whoever is doing this, it’s him.”

He
also has the power to get rid of me.
  The thought crept into her
brain.  She couldn’t lose this job.

Robyn
sighed.  She’d once asked Andrew how he had amassed such influence at
school in so short a time, now it was apparent that it was down to family
ties.  Andrew’s grandfather held the purse strings to the school. 
That meant that he could indeed secure her position.

“Will
he?  Stop them I mean.”

“Yes,
for now.  But I won’t be able to intervene again if you don’t drop
this.  If the locals see you as a nuisance they will put pressure on the
Head to get rid of you.” He looked at her imploringly. “Please accept that Kat
left.”

Robyn
couldn’t accept that, she wouldn’t, not after yesterday, but she said, “Okay.”

Robyn
tried to sound convincing but Andrew’s stare was weighty.  Instead, she
changed the subject.  “I can’t think about this anymore.  I’m tired
and hungry.  I’m going to make toast, do you want some?” He sighed but
moved back allowing her to step down and head to the kitchen. 

Andrew
sat at the dining table, his back to her as she foraged. “You don’t have to
stay,” he said without turning, “they meant to frighten you off.  They
won’t anymore, but if it’s too late, if you’re already too scared to remain,
you should go.”

Something
sank inside her.  Did he want her to go?  No, he couldn’t, not after
the conversation she’d overheard.  This was just Andrew giving her
options.

“I
don’t want to run.  I came here to make a life, Andrew.  I intend to
do just that.  The locals will just have to learn to accept me.”

Resolved,
she walked to the fridge to get butter and gasped at the sight before her when
she opened the door.

Andrew
was on his feet and at her side immediately.  He held her protectively and
tried to pull her backward from the fridge.

“What
the hell?”

Robyn
laughed.  She couldn’t help it.  Relief flooded her systems, warming
places that her visitors had frozen.

“Robyn. 
Stop.  Talk to me.”  Andrew was shaking her shoulders and trying to
pull her away but all she could do was laugh.

“I’m
fine . . . . Stop shaking me . . . . Really I’m fine . . . Oh, God.”  Each
word was difficult.  Laughter had drained her energy and the look on
Andrew’s face almost made her laugh even more.  She breathed deeply to
take control.  “God, Andrew, I’m fine.  Good even.”

She
lifted a palm to his cheek and smiled.  He frowned and looked at her as
though she’d completely lost it.

“When
they came for me, I thought they were spectres, spirits.  It sounds
ridiculous but you didn’t see them, and I couldn’t shake that from my mind,
even after this morning.  I was afraid, afraid of being here alone. 
But now, now I know they’re just people, sad, pathetic people.”  Her tone
had darkened.  She heard it herself and found the controlled hatred
strengthening.

She
stepped forward.

On
a plate, on the centre shelf of the fridge, sat the head of a small pig. 
Facing out, its eyes were black and cloudy, the retinas having broken down in
death, and blood dribbled from the cut at its neck.  The plate upon which
it sat overflowed and globules of sticky, clotting blood trickled onto the food
stored lower down.  It was grotesque.

“You
don’t have to look at it.  It’s another warning.  They won’t come at
you again.”

Robyn
wanted to ask him how he could promise that, what he had bartered for that
knowledge, but instead she turned to him.

“I’m
not bothered looking at it.  Do they really think a little blood is going
to put me off, going to make me run, screaming out of the house?  Are they
so small minded that they didn’t consider that I have seen and done a lot worse
than this during the course of my studies?  Hell, I’ve dissected two of
these and the only frightening thing about it is if you accidentally nick the
stomach.  Trust me, once you smell that, you learn never to do that
again.”  She was angry, not frightened and she knew that Derek had had a
hand in this.  The hanging effigy on the door had been the first
warning.  This was an escalation, or so Derek thought.

Andrew
looked at her incredulously.

She
smiled.  “We’d better clean this up.”

“What was your
doctorate about?”  Andrew sat opposite her at the small dining table
sipping coffee.

“Ah. 
How symbolism is used in myths and legends,” he grinned, “I studied ancient
symbols from around the world and looked at their associations to legend, both
ancient and modern.  For instance, I could tell you about that.” He
pointed to the pendant she was still wearing.

“What
about it?”  Robyn instinctively clutched the pendant between finger and
thumb.

“It’s
an ancient symbol with Pagan and Celtic origin called a Witches Knot.”

Robyn
let go of the necklace and Andrew laughed.

“No. 
It’s not a bad symbol.  It’s for protection.  The Witches Knot has
been used in Wiccan and folk magic for years, as protection against the forces
of witchcraft.”  He reached out to touch the pendant gently.  “It is
often mistaken for the
Triquetta
which has three of
these leaves instead of four.  The
Triquetta
is
a symbol of female power but it is formed differently from the Witches
Knot.  In the
Triquetta
the leaves are drawn
individually, but in the Witches Knot they are drawn from one continuous strand
of silver.  See, the same thread makes up all four leaves.”  His
finger traced the design against her throat, his touch making her
tremble.  “The silver represents the sacred chord that originally would
have been used to make the design.  The circle around it represents
protection.  In fact, the circle is the oldest known symbol for protection
and is used in many cultures all over the world.  In this case it not only
represents protection but also the binding of witchcraft and therefore
protection against it.  Whoever left this on your door wanted you to be
protected.”

“So
they knew what was coming?  They knew about the people on the lawn?” 
Tiny fingers of fear slithered into her spine.

“I
doubt they knew the specifics, but it’s possible they wanted to protect you
after the police came.”

“Do
you know other symbols as well?” An idea had occurred to her.

He
shrugged, “Yes. It started as a hobby really.”

Robyn
rose from her chair and dug a pen and piece of paper out of a kitchen
drawer.  She drew the spiral design from the gravestones.

“Do
you know this one?”  She pushed the paper across the table towards him.

Andrew
looked puzzled.  “Yes, it’s the
Triskele
or
Triskelion.”

“Tell
me about it.” She tried to seem only mildly intrigued when in actuality her
whole body was poised for an answer.

“Most
think it’s Celtic in origin but there have been similar symbols discovered that
date before then, to the megalithic era.  This one is a triple spiral but
there are triple arms or legs or even heads.” Andrew frowned and turned the
paper around to see the design from the three sides.
 
“In symbolism the number three is sacred,
especially in Celtic history and the spiral represents the cycle of life. 
The three spirals here probably represent the cycle of life, death and
rebirth.  Why do you ask?”

“It’s
on one of the headstones in the graveyard.”  She tried to sound
dismissive.  She didn’t want to let him know that the symbol was more
prevalent.