Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (23 page)

“By everything you mean Dan?” Laura looked up now, beginning to feel cross at the way Steph was reacting. “Let’s not forget the crucial difference between your everything and mine, Steph. You have children to consider. I don’t.”

“Unbelievable! You’re actually using your childlessness to justify screwing around? Haven’t you forgotten it’s Dan’s childlessness, too?”

“But I’m the one with the body that doesn’t work properly, not Dan! I’m the one every gynecologist in London has poked and prodded and declared inexplicably but irredeemably infertile!” Laura was shouting now. “Well, maybe I needed to feel that I wasn’t some dried up hag. Maybe I needed to feel good about my body again. To feel desirable. Not just an object of pity.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be you I’m pitying when Dan finds out and his heart is broken.”

“You just don’t understand.”

“Too bloody right I don’t!”

Laura stood up, her chair scraping on the flagstones. “Well, thanks for your support,” she yelled as she stormed out of the house.

By the time she reached her studio, she was crying uncontrollably. She was hurt that Steph had been so harsh, had given her no sympathy at all. But if she was honest with herself, she knew her friend was entitled to be so angry, and that she was right in what she said. She had betrayed Dan for what she knew now had been a passing madness. She should have just told Steph straight away that it was over between her and Rhys, that she felt guilty as hell and hated herself for what she had done. But she had felt cornered. Ashamed. And she was still worried at what might lie ahead. She knew Rhys well enough to be certain he would not take it well when she told him she didn’t want to see him anymore. Would he tell Dan?

Laura sat on the stool in front of her easel and let her tired mind change its focus to the painting in front of her. She looked at the girl in the wild woods and recognized something of herself that she hadn’t seen before. Not just the physical resemblance—she had been aware of that as she had painted, of course. There was a certain lostness about the figure, a peculiar sense of her being adrift and alone and searching for something that struck a chord. She reached forward and let her fingers wander over the thick paint. It was perfectly dry now. She had thought of working a little more on the picture, but at that moment decided it would be best left in its slightly raw, unfinished state.

A sound behind her made Laura jump. She turned to look. At first she could see nothing, but then she noticed movement in the shadows in the far corner of the studio. She climbed off the stool.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” As she waited for an answer she felt goose bumps prickling her arms. She moved forward tentatively, aware of her accelerated heartbeat. She heard another noise and stopped. “Come out!” she said, failing to keep a frightened shrillness out of her voice. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself but nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

A figure stepped out into the light. Laura recognized him at once. Close up he was taller than she had expected, his long hair coal black and his eyes the blue of a Renaissance Madonna’s dress. It was impossible to say how old he was. He had the strength and bearing of a man in his prime, yet there was a wisdom about his face that spoke of age. His dark robe almost completely covered his somewhat drab clothing. The staff he carried bore intricate carvings of strange symbols and hieroglyphics. Laura wanted to run, but found she could not.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“You know who I am,” he answered in a soft, low voice. He moved forward again until he was standing so close Laura could have reached out and touched him, had she had the courage.

“Are you real? Am I losing my mind?” she asked.

His response to her question was to reach out very slowly and take her hand in his. Laura gasped as she felt his strong, warm fingers wrapped around her own. He placed her palm against his chest so that she could feel the steady thud of his heart. She stared at him, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. What she was feeling. Merlin let go of her hand.

“You have no need to fear me. I promise I will protect you,” he said, letting a smile spread warmth across his features.

“What do you mean? Protect me from what?”

“So many questions. Be patient and all will be explained.”

“This is madness. I’m talking to … what? A ghost? A character from a legend? From a storybook?”

“I am as real as you are, Laura,” he said.

Something came into Laura’s head, something Anwen had said. “He is as real as you or I.” Her mind raced to make sense of it all. Surely not knowing the difference between real and imaginary was an early sign of insanity. And yet, here she was, talking to a person who most definitely did not exist in her world, but who was solid and alive and living and breathing and talking right there in front of her.

Merlin seemed to sense her bewilderment. He lifted his hand and, with the gentlest of touches, stroked Laura’s cheek.

“OK, enough sulking.” The sound of Steph’s voice at the door made Laura swing around. “You can’t stay in here all day.”

Laura turned back, but Merlin had vanished. All that remained was a glow on her face where he had touched her. She put her own hand to her cheek, remembering how she had felt before the exact same mixture of fear and thrill, of almost unbearable excitement, that first day in the bedroom at Penlan. Now she knew who had been the cause of it.

“You’re not going to make this even more bloody difficult for me are you?” Steph rolled her eyes. “OK, I admit, I had no right to be so judgmental. I’m sorry.”

Laura pulled herself together as best she could. “No, it’s OK. You were right. I’m sorry I overreacted. You touched a nerve,” she said, wishing her breathing would steady. “And anyway, it’s over. I’ve been making myself miserable with guilt ever since. I know it was a mistake.” She was relieved Steph had chosen to make peace with her. She needed her friend’s support, now more than ever. There was no way, however, she could begin to tell her about what she had just experienced.

Steph stepped forward and slipped her arms around Laura, hugging her warmly. “You know I’d support you, whatever you did,” she told her. “Even if I do have to have a go at you first. I’m just worried for you. And I’m here if you need to talk. You must have been going through some kind of hell keeping this all to yourself. Wow!” Steph noticed the painting on the easel. “Is this some of your new stuff? It’s certainly different.”

“What do you think?”

“Pretty wild. Quite trippy, in fact. And those colors … quite a change from what you usually do, isn’t it?”

“You don’t like it.”

“I do! I do. God, don’t be so sensitive. I just said it was different, and it is, right?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve been trying to do something new. Something that reflects the way this place makes me feel.”

“Have you got any more?’ Steph moved to a stack of canvases leaning against the wall and began to look through them.

“Not really, nothing finished anyway. Just sketches and stuff.”

“What does Penny say?”

“Oh, she hasn’t been up here to have a look yet.”

“You do surprise me—she’s such a dragon. I’m amazed she’s let you drift on for so long.”

“I am not drifting.” Laura gently eased herself between Steph and the rest of her paintings, finding a cover to drape over the stack. “Sorry, have to keep the dust out. It’s a bit of a menace in here.” She looked up at Steph, her uncertainty etched on her face. “Do you think they’re rubbish? Please tell me honestly.”

“Laura, you are incapable of producing rubbish, as you bloody well know. I admire your courage—doing something new is bound to be a bit scary. Relax. Everyone will love them, I promise you. Now, come on,” she said, putting an arm around Laura’s shoulders and giving her another brief but warm hug. “Let’s go and have some lunch.”

“Lunch? We’ve only just had breakfast.”

“Good grief, you must have been deeply into something in here. You’ve been at it nearly three hours.”

“Three hours?” Laura could not believe such an amount of time had passed. So many inexplicable things were happening to her at once that she could not take any of it in properly.

They ate together quietly, an unspoken agreement not to discuss Rhys further for the moment, enabling them to be friends again. Laura was so shaken by her encounter in the studio, she could barely think straight. She knew that at the first opportunity she must seek out Anwen. She was the only person Laura could discuss Merlin with without feeling she was a complete lunatic. She was so distracted she hardly noticed the cloud descending outside. It wasn’t until the fog thickened to the point where the yard wall could no longer be seen from the kitchen window that she began to worry. Where had the walkers got to? It would be a whiteout on the mountain. These were not the conditions in which to be up there with two small boys. She noticed Steph checking her watch.

“Don’t worry. Rhys knows the mountains very well. They’ll be home soon,” she told her.

“I don’t feel great about the welfare of my boys resting on his shoulders. Still, I suppose Angus is only an idiot part time. I need a drink,” she said, going to the fridge and fetching a bottle of Chablis.

Laura went back to staring out into the eerie whiteness. She had so much to think about it was an effort to keep still. Steph had indeed touched a nerve where Rhys was concerned, but what had happened between them was in the past. Merlin’s appearance, on the other hand, was something she knew she would not be able to ignore. Assuming he was who he claimed to be, and assuming also that she was not losing her mind, why had he chosen to manifest himself to her? What did he want? Why did she feel such a strange and powerful connection with him? And what did he want to protect her from? And now there were the boys to worry about. She kept telling herself no harm could come to them. True, the mountain could be testing, even for experienced hikers, but they had three grown men with them. They would appear through the mist any minute—she was certain of it.

Half an hour later the cloud lifted as quickly as it had descended. Laura opened the door and went into the garden, certain she could make out some movement on the edges of the visible hill. Steph joined her.

“Can you see anything?” she asked.

“I’m not sure … Yes! There they are!” Laura began to climb the bank but as she did so she could see that there were only three figures slithering down the slope toward them.

“Where’s Angus?” Steph called up from behind her.

And where is Rhys?
Laura asked herself.

Dan had Hamish on his shoulders and a firm grip on William’s hand. All three looked exhausted and the boys were plainly upset. Hamish began to wail the second he saw his mother. Dan passed him to her, not breaking his stride as he hurried on to the house.

“Can’t stop, have to get to the phone.”

“Dan?” Laura picked up William. “What’s happened? Where are the others?” she shouted after him, but he had already disappeared inside. It was William who tried to explain.

“Mummy, Daddy fell over. He hurt his head,” he told her.

“Oh, my God.” Steph clutched Hamish a little tighter.

“Rhys stayed with him,” he went on. “I didn’t want to leave Daddy, but Uncle Dan said we had to come home to get help.”

“Why didn’t you use Daddy’s phone?” Steph asked.

“He squashed it when he fell,” said William starting to cry. He buried his face into Laura’s shoulder, his little body shaking with sobs.

The two women exchanged worried looks.

“Let’s get them inside,” said Steph.

In the kitchen they found Dan finishing his phone call to the air ambulance service.

“Mountain Rescue say they’ll be with him very soon. The mist has cleared now, so the helicopter can get up there and fetch him.” He waved a sweet wrapper with numbers scribbled on it. “I wrote down the map coordinates. They know where to look.”

“What the hell happened?” Steph demanded.

“Angus had a fall. He hit his head.”

“How bad is it?”

“He was unconscious when we set off for home. Rhys stayed with him. We weren’t very far away, but the mist … it came down so quickly.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I still can’t work out how one minute we were walking along happily and the next…”

“Trust my bloody fool of a husband,” said Steph, distractedly taking off Hamish’s poncho and dropping it onto the kitchen floor. Laura reached over and gave her shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Daddy is going to be all right, isn’t he Mummy?” asked William.

“We couldn’t wake him up,” said Hamish.

Steph’s eyes were filled with tears, but she made a fair job of sounding confident and reassuring. “He’s going to be just fine. You know Daddy. He’s tough as old boots.”

“Oh, Steph,” Laura whispered. “I am so sorry.”

“Please,” Steph said as she started gathering up wet gear. “Don’t be nice to me, Laura. I can’t keep it together if you’re nice to me.”

Laura took Hamish’s hand. “Come on boys, you must be starving. Who wants fish fingers?”

“And Smiley Faces?” pleaded Hamish.

“Sure, why not. You can help me. Come on William, you too.” She led them away, pausing only to exchange anxious glances with Dan as he poured himself a brandy.

“Look, don’t worry,” he said. “Mountain Rescue can handle it. And the helicopter will find him. It’s the easiest and quickest way to get him to hospital.”

Steph spoke quietly as the boys left the room, but Laura was still able to hear her strained conversation with Dan.

“Tell me how it happened.”

“He fell onto some rocks, Steph. It was all so silly. We weren’t anywhere dangerous. The mist had come down, but we were on a good path. I was in front, Hamish was holding my hand, then came William, Angus was behind him, and Rhys bringing up the rear. There was a shout. He must have slipped. When I turned round he was lying on the rocks. He only fell a few feet. He landed awkwardly.”

“You think it’s serious, don’t you, Dan? Please tell me the truth.”

Dan could not keep the emotion out of his voice as he answered her. “He didn’t look good, Steph. I’m so sorry.”