A Witch in Love (26 page)

‘That’s not what I mean. If you let him force Anna out, I’m going. For good. I can’t live like this.’

‘What do you mean – for good? Where would you go?’ Elaine’s face was astonished.

‘Does that matter?’

‘Of course it matters!’

‘Let him go!’ Bran said, and there was contempt in his voice. ‘Let him go with his slut.’

‘Shut up!’ Elaine screamed, turning on him suddenly. ‘Just shut up, Dad!’ Then she turned back to Seth. ‘Seth, please, don’t do this. You can see what he’s like – just let it lie, just this once.’

‘It’s not once though, is it? It’s been like this ever since he came to stay. You may be able to put up with it, but I can’t.’

‘Please, Seth.’ She put both hands on her son’s shoulder and her voice was very low. ‘Please, he’s not going to be here for ever …’

‘Good,’ Seth said brutally. ‘And when he’s gone, I’ll come back.’

‘Get out,’ Bran said, and then he laughed, a dreadful cackling, half-mad laugh. ‘She’s bewitched you, boy, can’t you see that? You’re tied to her like a dog to its master; she’s got you right where she wants you.’

‘Shut up, you old bastard,’ Seth said viciously. And then, holding my arm in a grip so hard that it hurt, he pulled me down the stairs, out of the pub and into the cold, clear darkness.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
eth drove like he was possessed, so fast I was terrified – not for myself, but for him, and anyone else we might meet on the dark coast road. I thought about telling him, begging him even, to slow down, but one look at his fury-filled face told me that my words would be a waste of time. In fact they might make things worse.

He did slow down at last and then stop, bumping the car off the tarmac and on to the short turf, where he turned off the engine and sat, his chest heaving.

‘Seth,’ I said, and he put his arms around me and buried his face in my hair. I felt his body shake with huge, agonizing sobs.

‘It’s OK,’ I whispered, but I knew I was lying. It wasn’t OK. What had Seth done? Elaine would take him back, I was sure of it. But I also knew Seth’s stubborn pride, and doubted he’d ever ask, no matter how bad things got. ‘It’s OK. Oh, love, it’s OK.’

At last he sat up and ran his hand through his hair, then swiped angrily at his wet cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and his voice was hoarse. ‘I’m sorry you had to hear all that.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘It’s not OK. God! I hate him. I hate him so much.’

‘Don’t,’ I said urgently. ‘What good will that do?’

‘None, but it might make me feel better.’ He cracked a twisted smile and I managed to smile back.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Well, actually it’s not as bad as Mum’s probably imagining. I can stay on the boat – the
Angel
.’

‘Really? You sure the owner – what was his name? – you sure he won’t mind?’

‘Charles? No, he won’t care. He’s already said I can take it out whenever I want to. He’s wintering in Morocco at the moment anyway.’

‘It’s all right for some.’

‘We could go there,’ Seth said, only half joking. ‘Up anchor, sail away, just you and me …’ He pulled a strand of hair behind my ear and I shivered with longing.

‘Fish for food?’

‘Mmm. And mussels. Lobster. Oysters.’

‘I hate oysters. And I can’t open them.’

‘I can teach you. There’ll be plenty of time to learn.’

‘Shame we’ve got no money and a few boring things to think of like, ooh, exams, our futures, university.’

‘Ugh, it’s all so pointless.’ Seth stared into the darkness and I saw that his hands on the wheel were clenched.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked in surprise.

‘All these hoops. I feel like a circus animal. And for what? So I can go and work in some office, pushing paper all my life? But look at the alternative – work the sea like Grandad, end up disabled and broken and broke. I just want to be out there …’ He looked out to the black rolling waves, endlessly crashing against the cliffs in the darkness, and I shivered. I could think of nothing worse.

‘I should take you home,’ Seth said at last. ‘Your dad’ll be worrying.’

It was true. Dad must have seen Seth tear away into the night at ninety miles per hour, and he was probably imagining us dead in a ditch. But Seth was more important right now.

‘He’ll be OK for a bit,’ I said gently. ‘I want to make sure you can get into your boat before I go home, and anyway—’

I broke off. My phone was ringing. I fished it out of my pocket;
Dad mobile
, it read.

‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Anna!’ Dad’s voice was a gust of relief. There was a lot of background noise and I had a hard time hearing him. ‘Thank God. Are you OK? Is Seth?’

‘We’re both fine. He’s going to stay on the boat he’s been fixing for a friend tonight. I’ll settle him in. Where are you?’

‘In the Crown and Anchor.’

‘Great, listen, if I go down to the boat with Seth could you pick me up on your way back?’

‘Yes, sure. What time?’

‘What time are you leaving?’ I asked.

‘I’m not sure. Elaine’s here – we’re having a drink in the bar. She needed to calm down. What?’ He broke off, speaking to someone in the background, then came back on. ‘She wants to talk to you. Let’s say – what’s the time now? – half eight. Let’s say between half nine and ten, OK?’

‘Fine. Bye, Dad.’

There was a short kerfuffle as the phone was handed over and then Elaine came on.

‘Anna, I’m so, so sorry.’ Her voice was full of wretchedness. ‘You shouldn’t have had to hear all that. And on your birthday – I feel dreadful.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. It wasn’t – but it wasn’t Elaine’s fault, which was what I meant. ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’

‘Is Seth there?’

‘Yes.’ I looked across at him, but he only looked out of the window, stony-faced. ‘He’s here.’

‘Is he OK?’

‘He’s all right. Upset, but all right.’

‘Can I speak to him?’

‘Hang on,’ I said. I put my hand over the receiver and looked at Seth. ‘It’s your mum. She wants to talk to you.’

‘Tell her to go fu—’ He stopped and shut his eyes, biting his lip. ‘Tell her no thanks.’

‘Seth, come on. She’s worried about you.’

‘Anna, not now. Not tonight.’

I looked at him for a long moment, taking in his haggard face, the dark bruiselike shadows around his eyes, the still-wet traces of tears in his lashes. He looked like he was at the end of his tether.

‘OK,’ I said. I uncovered the receiver. ‘Elaine, I’m really sorry, but he doesn’t want to speak right now.’

‘I understand.’ Her voice cracked slightly but she managed a cheerful, ‘Tell him … tell him goodnight. I love him. And goodnight to you too, Anna. Happy birthday, sweetie.’

‘Goodnight, Elaine. Thanks for the boots and everything.’

I hung up and Seth and I looked at each other. The moonlight reflected off the shifting waves, throwing shards of light into the car and giving a cold, sculptured beauty to his features. His expression made my heart feel close to breaking.

‘Happy birthday,’ he said bitterly.

‘Seth, don’t.’ I buried my face in his shoulder. ‘Please, please don’t. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care about my stupid birthday.’

‘But I do.’

He dug in his jeans pocket, drew out a thin parcel, and tossed it over to me.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry it isn’t more, better.’

I unwrapped it carefully and a very old book, bound in faded red silk, fell into my lap. There was nothing on the front, but gilt letters on the spine read
The Love Poems of John Donne
.

‘Open it to the flyleaf,’ Seth said.

I carefully opened the fragile, spotted pages and there was an inscription in fine copperplate:

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I

Did, till we lov’d? …

If ever any beauty I did see,

Which I desir’d, and got, ’twas but a dreame of thee.

To my darling Emma, who has bewitched my heart,

my soul, and every other part
.

‘Oh, Seth …’ I leafed gently through the pages. ‘It’s beautiful. Where did you … ?’

‘In a secondhand shop in Brighthaven. I saw the inscription and it seemed …’ He looked at me, his face suddenly uncertain. ‘You don’t … The inscription – you don’t mind, do you?’

‘No.’ I shook my head, swallowed against the stiffness in my throat. ‘No, I don’t mind. Oh, Seth, I love you.’

‘And there’s something else.’ He leant over into the back seat of the car and picked up a carrier bag.

‘Two presents!’

‘Don’t get too excited. This one’s a pretty far cry from Tiffany. It’s not even wrapped.’

I opened the carrier bag – and a rape alarm fell out.

‘Please, Anna.’ Seth looked at me in the moon-shadowed darkness, his eyes full of fear. ‘Please, I want you to be safe. If something happened to you, it would kill me. These people—’

‘I will be safe,’ I said. I had smashed two boys into a brick wall, leaving them bleeding and unconscious. I had bigger weapons than a rape alarm. ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘I know you can – I know you think you can. But please, carry this, for me?’

‘Yes, OK.’

Seth nodded, once. Then he started the engine and we drove into the night.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I
n this interpretation, Macbeth is a mere puppet in the hands of the women who surround him, from Lady Macbeth right back to the three witches who precipitate his downfall. Try as he might, Macbeth cannot escape—

I stopped and rubbed my eyes. My English coursework was due in less than a week and it was the last thing on my mind. My brain seemed sluggish, weighted down with bigger worries, and every sentence was like getting blood out of a stone. Who cared about Macbeth and the bloody witches, anyway?

I stood, stretched my spine, and then made my way down the corridor to the toilet, feeling the stiffness leach from my muscles as I walked.

As I re-entered the room, drying my hands on my jeans, I noticed something on the bed – a scrap of paper. A stray sheet of revision notes? I picked it up.

It was a black-and-white photo ripped out of the school newspaper. It showed Seth, sweaty and grinning and celebrating some football victory or other, both hands above his head in a triumphant cheer. Someone had drawn crude manacles in biro around each wrist and a collar around his neck. Underneath was written
WE KNOW
.

I went cold all over.

They knew about Seth. They’d been in the house. In my
bedroom
.

When?

I ran to the window and opened it, but there was no sight or sound of any intruder, only the tranquil noises of the forest night.

The paper had lain in a fold of my duvet, hard to see from where I was seated at the desk. It might have been put there – when? Any time. While I was at school. While I was walking home. While we ate … ?

Chill fury prickled up and down my spine at the thought of hooded figures creeping quietly along the corridor, while down below Dad cooked so innocently. All it would take was a single sound, Dad coming up to investigate, finding them there … I felt suddenly sick.

Stalking me, endangering me, that was one thing. But involving Dad and Seth? This was too much. They’d gone too far. Screw principles. Outwith or not, I had to act.

My hands were shaking so much that I could hardly type.

Dear Grandmother,

You said in your last letter that you wanted to help me. Well, there’s something I need your help with. It’s urgent. Can we talk?

Anna

Then I pressed send. Up until now I would’ve said it would be a cold day in hell before I ran towards the Ealdwitan for help. Well, I felt very, very cold.

Seth was chatting to his friends at the school gate when I turned up the next day, but he broke off when he saw me. I saw him make a quick, hurried goodbye and then he jogged across the car park to sweep me up in a long kiss. Then he set me down and looked at me searchingly.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I got your text. What did you need to talk about that we couldn’t discuss on the phone?’

‘This.’ I held out the defaced photo of his football victory.

Seth swore.

‘Hey, not so loud.’ I put a hand across his mouth and looked around for teachers. ‘You’ll get serious trouble for that kind of language.’

‘That’s the last thing I care about right now. Look, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. And as for this,’ he held the photo with his fingertips as though it was soiled, ‘chuck it in the fire. You’re the one we should be worrying about.’