Shadows at Stonewylde (10 page)

‘It wasn’t pressure that caused Sylvie’s breakdown, surely? We all know it was a hormone imbalance after Bluebell was born – puerperal psychosis. She’s long over that, Yul, and she’s perfectly healthy now.’

‘Yes, because I’ve made sure she leads a stress-free life. She has no worries or burdens at all and she’s completely carefree.’

‘That’s as may be, but she’s not happy.’

‘Of course she’s happy!’ he snapped, stung by Clip’s observation.

‘I really don’t think she is. Why not talk to her and find out what’s wrong. But don’t assume she’ll do everything you say – my daughter has a mind of her own and she’s much tougher than you give her credit for. I’m not prepared to hand anything over to you alone if Sylvie isn’t in complete agreement.’

Yul glared at him.

‘I’ll thank you to keep your views on our marriage to yourself. I think I know whether or not my own wife is happy, and her happiness has no bearing on running Stonewylde anyway. Sylvie wouldn’t have a clue where to begin. It’s such a complex venture with so many difficult issues and problems – she doesn’t have the knowledge or skills to deal with any of it.’

‘I recall she studied agricultural management and business studies at university especially so that she could one day run the estate,’ said Clip mildly. ‘I’d say Sylvie was far better trained in the skills needed to run Stonewylde than you’d appear to be. You chose to study the Arts.’

‘On yours and Miranda’s advice,’ muttered Yul, scowling. ‘You said I should broaden my intellect and understanding of the world.’

‘Quite so. You couldn’t even read until the age of sixteen and had no knowledge of – or interest in – anything outside Stonewylde. You needed to expand your horizons and I’m sure you don’t regret it.’

‘Of course not. But since then, I’ve also studied estate management, agriculture, sustainability, alternative power, ecological issues … you know I never stopped studying. There’s so much I still don’t know and I want to learn it all. But I think I know a great deal more than Sylvie about the best way to run Stonewylde, whatever she may’ve learnt years ago at university.’

‘Just talk to her – see what she has to say on the subject.’

‘I know what she has to say about it. Sylvie and I talk all the time. You’ve got the wrong idea about her and what she feels – she’s perfectly happy and she’ll willingly do whatever I advise her.’

Yul stood up and stretched, seeming to fill the room. Looking down at Clip he indicated subtly, but leaving no doubt, that the conversation was now over.

‘If this really is your final year then I’m prepared to allow the labyrinth to be built one last time up at the Stone Circle. But I shall let it be known at the meeting tomorrow that this will be the final one. Thank you for your time, Clip – and your wonderful news.’

As Clip left the office he felt like a servant who’d been dismissed.

S
ylvie sat alone in the circle of chairs laid out on the stone-flagged floor of the Galleried Hall. The huge carved wooden chair with boars’ heads on its arms dominated the circle; this was where Clip sat, as leader of the community. Sylvie was the first to arrive for the Council of Elders meeting, looking forward to hearing the annual reports that were always presented at this special meeting the day before Samhain. Earlier Yul had told her that there was really no need to bother herself with what promised to be a long and probably tedious day. But she’d been determined not to miss this meeting.

She gazed up at the Green Man motifs carved on the ceiling bosses of the ancient roof, remembering Professor Siskin and all he’d told her about the history of Stonewylde. He’d been convinced that Yul was the Green Man of Stonewylde, returning to take his rightful place at the heart of the community. Yul – her beloved husband. He’d awoken her early that morning with kisses, before the children could disturb them. She recalled the feel of his skin under her fingertips, how she melted when his mouth found hers. She loved the way his eyes darkened with longing and urgency, and how clear and bright they were afterwards when he lay propped on an elbow gazing down at her.

The years had not caused their hunger for each other to abate, although she wished that they still made love up in the hills or amongst the bracken in the woods as they’d done in the early days. He was always so gentle and careful now, and they never indulged their passion outside the comfort of the bedroom. This morning had been perfect and Yul had seemed so happy, much more like his old self. He’d watched her as she lay drowsy and smiling, his hand tenderly stroking the hair back from her face. He’d told her how much he loved her, that she was his whole world, and how lucky he was to have such a beautiful, loving wife. All her recent feelings of neglect vanished in the warmth of his attention. He’d then made tea for them both and sat talking with her until the girls woke up and came bundling in for their morning cuddle.

Sylvie sighed happily, her body still languid and satiated from love-making despite a brisk shower and the walk down to the Village Nursery with her daughters. She was pleased with herself for getting to this meeting and being the first one here as she felt that Stonewylde was slipping away from her. She needed to get back in touch and today would be her first step in doing so. She’d listen very carefully to everyone’s reports and try to find herself a niche in the running of Stonewylde.

Gradually the members of the Council arrived, greeting one another and taking their places in the circle. There were representatives from every field: Miranda, Dawn and Rowan from the three schools, Martin and Cherry from the Hall, Edward, Hart and Robin from the farms, orchards and dairy, Greenbough from the woods, Tom and Maizie from the Village, Harold from Stonewylde. com, Hazel the doctor, and of course, Clip as the owner, with Sylvie as his heir, and Yul as the magus.

They filed in, taking a seat until all were present except Clip. The great carved chair stood empty at the head of the circle and Yul looked impatiently at his watch. Surely Clip wouldn’t forget the most important meeting of the year, where every member presented the report they’d prepared on their area of the community. Clip had insisted on running the estate as a committee, not wanting a return to the autocracy of Magus’ rule, although he’d long-since delegated the organisation of the meetings to his son-in-law.

Stonewylde did need a leader, someone with the vision and ability to hold the whole thing together. Clip knew that but had been openly worried that, given the freedom, Yul would abuse his power and gradually take over altogether until Stonewylde was run just as it had been in Magus’ day. Yul often became exasperated when the discussions went round in circles with people arguing endlessly over a minor point. He made decisions quickly and intuitively and had no patience with debate and woolliness. It was mainly for this reason – his concerns about Yul’s over-confidence – that Clip had held on for so long.

The fifteen people already present sat chatting easily together as they waited, sipping the coffee and herbal teas served by youngsters on work detail that week. Cherry eyed the three teenagers critically, for they were under her jurisdiction.

‘I still don’t like them silly skirts,’ she muttered, glaring at one of the girls.

‘Oh Cherry!’ laughed Miranda. ‘It’s what everyone’s wearing in the Outside World. You need to take a trip yourself and see what’s in fashion, or at least watch the television occasionally. That skirt is nothing, really.’

‘’Taint decent,’ grumbled Cherry. ‘They’ll catch their death o’ cold when the weather turns.’

‘We all will if something’s not done soon about the boilers,’ agreed Martin. ‘My report will be depressing for some. There’s a lot of work needs doing at the Hall in the year ahead.’

‘Same in the Village,’ said Tom. ‘A whole load o’ work to keep the cottages in repair, and we have to do something soon about the young ’uns wanting their own places. We’ve no room and that’s a fact.’

He shook his grizzled head and slurped at his tea.

‘I’ve got some ideas about that issue,’ said Hazel. ‘But I’ll wait till we give our reports. How’s your arthritis now, Greenbough?’

‘Still playing me up when ‘tis damp, but mustn’t grumble. I think after this year ahead I’ll put myself out to pasture though.

‘Tis all a bit much for me in the woods nowadays and my goodwife keeps on as how I should be biding at home with her in my old age.’

‘You and me both,’ said Hart, who’d taken over from Old Stag in the orchards a few years ago but was advanced in years himself. ‘Reckon I’m about ready to do my last harvest.’

‘And how are the schools getting on with the Samhain preparations?’ Sylvie asked. Yul and Harold were quietly discussing something, excluding themselves from the general chat.

‘Very well,’ smiled Dawn. ‘The crows are all painted now and they look lovely.’

‘The Seniors are finishing carving the Jack o’ Lanterns today,’ said Miranda. ‘They’ll put them up in the Barn tonight.’

‘Celandine and Bluebell were very excited about their Samhain masks,’ Sylvie said to Rowan, trying to draw her into the conversation. At twenty-nine, Rowan was a beauty, tall and statuesque with rich brown hair and skin like cream. As a result of her stint as May Queen all those years ago, she’d given birth to a pretty little girl called Faun, and had then taken advantage of the changes at Stonewylde and continued her education. Rowan was a determined and patient young woman and several years later, having worked in the Nursery as Faun grew up, she eventually took over the running of the place as the older women retired.

Rowan continued the excellent traditions, where the children roamed out of doors for much of the day and played freely. She combined this Stonewylde philosophy with what she’d learnt at college about child development, and did an excellent job as head of the Nursery. She was quiet and reserved, raising her daughter with the help of her family and never looking to be hand-fasted; she made no secret of the fact that Magus was the only man she’d ever loved. Sylvie found her difficult to engage in conversation even though she saw Rowan every day at the Nursery. Rowan nodded, agreeing that the masks had been particularly artistic this year.

‘And they’re really looking forward to the Samhain dance,’ continued Sylvie, determined to get her talking. ‘Celandine told me how pleased you were with it.’

‘It’s hard not to be pleased with Celandine,’ said Rowan. ‘Her dancing is better than anyone else’s. I think she has a rare gift.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sylvie, glowing with pride. ‘And how’s Faun getting on at school? I noticed her in the library the other day. She’s so tall and such a beauty, isn’t she?’

Rowan glanced at Sylvie and looked away quickly. She shuffled her report and replied a little stiffly that Faun seemed to be doing well in her first year at Senior School. Sylvie gave up and spoke to Dawn instead, recalling her recent conversation with Miranda.

‘What do you think of our latest arrivals at the Hall School?’ she asked innocently. She liked Dawn and had been so pleased when the Council of Elders had agreed to her return, after graduating as a teacher. Very few Hallfolk had stayed after Yul took over as magus, but Dawn had always been kind to Sylvie when all the others had ostracised her and Sylvie knew she had a good soul. Dawn, like Rowan, had worked her way up and was now head teacher at the Village School which all children aged seven to twelve attended. Everyone was taught to read and write of course, and Dawn blended sound pedagogy with the Stonewylde way of life.

She noticed Dawn blush slightly and smiled to herself, thinking it was high time that Dawn found herself a partner.

‘They both seem very nice indeed,’ she replied. ‘The art teacher, David, already has some ideas about an art project involving the older students coming into the Village and working with our little ones.’

‘That sounds interesting,’ said Sylvie. ‘Let me know, won’t you Dawn, if there’s anything I can do in the school. I’d love to help out now that the girls are in Nursery full time.’

Just then Clip arrived, apologising for his tardiness. He still wore his cloak and his boots were slightly muddy; he’d obviously been outside and forgotten the time. Yul scowled at him and glanced pointedly at his watch, but nobody else seemed to mind and finally the meeting commenced. It had been a good year for harvest and many of the reports were very positive. The three women who ran the schools spoke first and everyone was pleased to hear that the children were thriving. However Miranda expressed concerns again about the lack of space and facilities for so many teenagers.

‘But we’re coming to the end of the bulge, aren’t we?’ said Yul. ‘This latest year group at Senior School is the last one born in my father’s time. All the younger year groups are much smaller and now we’ve firmly established the two children per family rule, this will be a diminishing issue.’

‘True,’ Miranda agreed, ‘but there’s still the problem of how to cope now. We’re bursting at the seams. And looking ahead, all these present teenagers will be growing up in the next few years and producing their own children, so we’ll have another bulge in a few years’ time.’

‘Aye,’ growled Tom, clearing his throat, ‘I wanted to say something on that matter. ‘Tis sort of part o’ this problem. A whole load of these youngsters are adults now and they’re wanting their own cottages. Wanting to settle down and be handfasted and raise their own families. Me and Maizie been talking about this and we’re worried there ain’t no spare cottages. What’s to be done about that?’