Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (18 page)

“Sounds to me like you love those little boys.”

“Of course I do. I’ll always be there for them, no doubt doling out unwanted advice when they’re older. In fact, Dan and I are down as their guardians, should something ghastly happen to Steph and Angus, heaven forbid.”

“Really? Their parents must think a great deal of you.”

“Like I said, they’re very dear friends.”

Rhys reached out and took Laura’s hand, squeezing it gently as he caressed her palm with his thumb.

“You’d give anything to have a family like that, wouldn’t you, Laura?”

“Yes. I suppose I would,” she said. There was a pause, a moment’s silence. Laura began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I really must get on. I have beds to make. Food to organize. You know the kind of thing.” She looked at him. “Or maybe you don’t. Anyway, this is the way things are, Rhys. I have my life. You have yours. D’you see?” she asked, hoping against hope he might just pick up on what she was implying, work out for himself that she regretted what she had done, and behave like a true friend and leave her alone. It was a faint hope, and a futile one.

Still he held her hand. “Things could be different. You know that, don’t you?” he said. “We could be together.”

She shook her head. “Rhys, I…”

“We’re good together, Laura. We are meant to be together, all the time, not just like this. I know you feel the same way.”

“You don’t know what I feel. Good grief,
I
don’t know what I feel. But I do know that I can’t see you at the moment. Not here. Not like this. I’m sorry, Rhys.” Why couldn’t he see that what they had shared was sex, nothing more.

She was still trying to find the words to make her feelings clear to him when he suddenly asked “Are you still in love with Dan?”

“What? Yes! Yes, of course I am.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Only it didn’t feel that way when you were with me. When you were in my bed. When you were…”

“I can’t give up on my marriage just like that,” she said, moving away from him again and clattering plates into cupboards. “Things aren’t that simple, Dan and I…” Suddenly she gasped, clutching at her belly.

“Laura? What’s wrong?”

“Oh!” she cried out as she bent forward, unexpected pain almost bringing her to her knees.

Rhys put his arm around her shoulders.

“What’s the matter?”

“Please, help me get to the bathroom.” Even as she spoke, Laura could feel blood beginning to run down her thigh. Her fickle menstrual cycle had chosen this precise moment to throw up a heavy and brutal period. She let out a sob as Rhys helped her to the small downstairs toilet. The physical pain and the embarrassment she was experiencing were increased by another all too familiar feeling. The perpetual disappointment of another failed conception descended on her like a grey mountain cloud. She realized now, as she sat weeping, waiting for the flow to steady, that some small part of her had been harboring a new hope. Somewhere, deep in her desperate psyche, she had been nurturing the notion that Rhys might, just
might
be able to make her pregnant. She knew it was ridiculous. It had already been established that there was nothing wrong with Dan. That their childlessness was her own fault. Her own failing. And yet …

By the time she returned to the kitchen, Rhys had already poured two glasses of wine.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She felt like weeping all over him, but knew she had to stay in control of her emotions. Sharing her grief with him now would somehow be far more intimate than anything that had happened between them before.

He pulled out a chair and sat her down, handing her a drink.

“Here,” he said. “Drink some of this. You’ll feel better.”

She did as she was told, one or two unstoppable salty tears splashing into the wine. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. My poor little Laura. I hate to see you so sad.” He stroked her hair. “Don’t give up hope,” he said. “I have brought you something. It was one of the reasons I came.” He pulled a small packet and a piece of paper from his pocket. “Two things, in fact. Some henna for your hair—I think you’d look even more beautiful with it red. Why not give it a try? And I wanted to give you this.”

Laura looked down at the envelope he was handing her. “What is it?”

“It’s the spell you wanted, from my
grimoire
. I copied it out for you.”

Despite herself, Laura was touched. The idea seemed ridiculous now, amid the reality of their deceit and her obvious lack of fertility. Even so, it mattered to her that he cared. And she knew, later, when she was alone again, she would look at the spell. What did she have to lose?

“Thank you,” she said, taking the henna and the envelope from him. “That was kind of you. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be on my own.”

To her relief, he left without a fuss. She went upstairs and took a shower, on impulse applying the powder he had given her to her hair. Maybe a bit of color would give her a little lift. She needed to find some way to improve her mood before Steph and Angus came. Not more than an hour later there was a sharp rapping on the door. She opened it to find Anwen’s bulky shape filling the porch. The rain had eased, but a heavy mist still swirled about the yard, wrapping itself around the old woman like a billowing shroud.

Laura blinked away the unsettling image. “Hello,” she said as brightly as she could manage. “This is a nice surprise. Not a very good day for a walk, though.” She was surprised at how little mud Anwen seemed to have met on her way. The path through the woods would have been sticky and even bogging in places in such weather.

“Have you seen him again?” Anwen demanded.

The boldness of the question took Laura completely by surprise. Did the old woman know Rhys had been at the house? Could she know what had happened between the two of them? Could village gossip know something about her even her own husband had failed to notice?

“I’m sorry, Anwen, seen who?”

“The man you call the dark stranger. The one you saw in the woods.”

Now Laura understood. It was not Rhys Anwen was questioning her about. It was Merlin.

“Oh, no. No, I haven’t.” She could not meet the old woman’s fierce gaze. The realization that she had been glimpsing a mythological figure had unsettled her so much she had pushed it from her mind. She had reasoned it out. The move. Hormones. Too much reading about the subject. Her emotions in turmoil over Rhys. Her lust. Her guilt. Anyone might start imagining things with all that going on. She had simply refused to let herself think about it further. She forced a bright smile. “Look, it’s very damp out here. Why don’t you come in? I’ll put the kettle on.”

Anwen’s face remained inscrutable. “No use trying to hide from him, Laura. If he wants to find you, he will. You shouldn’t fight it. He means you no harm. He is the reason you came here.”

Suddenly Laura felt very weary. She had neither the patience nor energy for Anwen’s riddles. She was tired, and her cramping stomach was crying out for aspirin.

“Look, I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well. I’ve been working all day, and…”

“Oh, I know what you’ve been doing.” Anwen looked openly cross now. She fumbled in her deep coat pocket and brought out what looked at first glance to be a handful of twigs. She thrust them into Laura’s hand. “This is for you,” she said. “Hang it over your bed. Don’t forget, mind.”

Laura examined the gift. It appeared to be some sort of corn dolly, but rougher and spikier than any she had ever seen. Rather than corn it was made of plaited sticks and grasses and moss. Laura remembered what she had read about women wanting babies hanging such things up in their bedrooms. Could the old woman really know so much about her? She looked up to thank her—and to question her—but was amazed to see her neighbor already padding across the yard. How could someone so old, with such swollen legs and stiff joints, move so swiftly and silently?

“Thank you!” she called after her, watching her go. “Good-bye!” She raised her hand to wave, but the old woman did not so much as glance back in her direction.

As Laura settled into her chores, preparing for her visitors, she tried to make sense of Anwen’s visit. It could not have been easy for the lame old woman to walk all the way from her farm. She clearly had to have a strong reason for her visit, but what exactly that reason had been was not so obvious. She had questioned her about Merlin, yet her brusqueness seemed to be concerned with her seeing Rhys. Could she really know of their affair? And the curious corn dolly—Laura could not remember discussing her childlessness with Anwen, though it was possible talk had gotten around the village by now. It was a pity she had not stayed for a cup of tea. There were beginning to be questions Laura wanted to ask her. Somehow she sensed her neighbor held answers to some of the things that had been confusing her since her arrival at Penlan. If only she could sit down and have a proper talk with the old woman things might start to piece together. She promised herself she would take a walk to the farm at the next opportunity. The sound of an approaching engine shook her from her thoughts. The low clouds had been blown away by a fresh wind and the rain had stopped, so that looking out of the bedroom window she could see Steph’s minivan winding its way up the lane. She ran downstairs, excited at the prospect of seeing her friend after what felt like a very long time.

Angus stopped the car at the top of the yard and the children spilled excitedly out of the back.

“Auntie Laura!” they cried, running to her.

Laura bent down and hugged them, nuzzling into the downy neck of little Hamish. At five he was no longer a baby, yet still had that newness and softness about him that toddlers often did. His light brown hair and pale eyes gave him an endearing vulnerability. William looked every inch the big brother, already tall for his seven years and with his father’s rusty coloring.

“Look at you two!” She kissed them as she squeezed them. “I swear you’ve grown an inch a day since I saw you. Such big boys now.”

“You really do live on a mountain!” said Hamish.

“Can we go up it? I want to go hiking. Look, I’ve got proper boots.” William showed her his impressive footwear.

“He’s been practically sleeping in the things,” said Steph, her voice sleepy from the journey.

Laura hurried over to greet her.

“I can’t believe you’re really here at last.”

After a hug Steph held her friend at arm’s length. “Wow,” she said. “Love the new look, darling. You never used to wear your hair loose. And you’ve colored it. A secret redhead all along. Who knew?”

“It’s just henna. A friend gave it to me.”

“Did someone say redhead? Stand aside!” Angus heaved himself out of the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of Laura. “What is this vision I see before me? Can it be our city girl, now a wild mountain woman?” He pulled her to him in a bear hug. As always, Laura felt tiny in the arms of this enormous man. He was well over six foot and broad shouldered and carried a little more weight than was good for him. His unruly hair and bushy beard were beginning to show grey hairs among the auburn, but there was still a youthful strength and vigor about him. “The air up here suits you, lassie. You look fabulous.”

She smiled but said nothing. Steph narrowed her eyes.

“You do, damn it. Too bloody fabulous, if you ask me.”

“Come inside. I’ll make some tea.”

“Tea!” Steph was scandalized. “Two hours on the M4 with Roald Dahl story tapes on a loop and the car stinking of cheese and onion crisps and you offer me tea? You’ve been away too long, girl. Angus, fetch the provisions.”

The next hour passed with much excited running around on the part of the children while the adults inspected the house, champagne glasses in hand. Angus declared the upstairs a place of unprecedented hazard due to the low-flying beams. Steph was relieved to find comfortable bathrooms and said so repeatedly.

“I don’t know what you expected,” Laura said. “A plank over an ash pit, perhaps?”

“If not something worse. No, seriously, I’m impressed. A little rustic for my taste. A smidge folksy, if you’ll forgive my saying so, but no, it’s clean, it’s tidy, it has pretensions of chicness here and there. I see the hand of Laura the artist and the mark of Dan the hedonist and the results are pleasingly comfortable.”

“Will I phone up and cancel the local B and B, then?” asked Angus.

“Scoff all you like, you poor town mice,” Laura said with a laugh. “I love it here.”

“Yes,” Steph said, looking at her friend closely, “I can see that you do.”

Laura felt uncomfortable under such close scrutiny. Her friend knew her so well. Right now it felt as if she were looking inside her, hunting around for all her little secrets. Laura knew her affair with Rhys had changed her. She also knew that Steph would be sensitive to those changes.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” she said. “Dan will be home soon.”

“Ugh! What is that?” Steph had spotted the corn dolly which Laura had suspended above the bed.

“Oh that. A neighbor gave it to me. It’s traditional around here, I think. Supposed to bring good luck in a new home, dozens of babies. That sort of thing.”

“I couldn’t sleep under it. It’d give me the creeps. Far too Wicker Man for my liking.”

Angus raised his bushy brows. “D’you have virgins dancing round maypoles, too, m’be? No wonder Dan finally agreed to move out here. Hey! Boys, watch the soft furnishings with those sticky fingers.”

The children had found their way upstairs and flung themselves onto Laura’s four-poster.

“You’ve got the best bed, Auntie Laura,” said William.

“Can we sleep in it?” asked Hamish.

“No, you can’t,” Steph told them.

Their disappointed wails were only silenced by Laura promising to read them a story in it before they went to sleep in their own beds, and by tempting them downstairs with the offer of chocolate biscuits.

In the kitchen, Laura and Steph put away the treats brought from London while Angus and the boys explored outside. Laura was aware of her friend’s eyes upon her the whole time.