Shadows at Stonewylde (42 page)

The curtains swished across the stage and the lights went up.

‘Celandine, we have—’

‘Oh Mummy, it’s the best,
best
thing I’ve ever seen! I love it so much! Thank you, thank you!’

‘I know, darling, but—’

The hand clenched hard on her knee under the coats and Buzz leant across, forcing her to sit back in her seat.

‘Hello! You must be Celandine. Delighted to meet you!’

‘Hello,’ replied the girl, looking puzzled. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m an old friend of your mother’s. Are you enjoying the ballet?’

‘YES!’ she gasped. ‘Isn’t it
beautiful?
I want to be a ballet dancer when I’m grown up and dance on my own in the Great Barn and up in the Circle for all the people to watch.’

‘Spoken like a true Stonewylde child,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I wish my little girl could be the same.’

‘Do you have a little girl too?’

‘Oh yes, she’s a bit younger than you, almost five. Like your sister Bluebell.’

‘You know about her?’

‘I know everything about you all,’ he replied. ‘Every detail. And now, I was wondering if you’d like to go over to that lady there and buy us all a nice ice-cream?’

Sylvie tried to remonstrate but was smoothly over-ridden, and Celandine was despatched down the aisle clutching money.

‘How did you know we’d be here?’ she hissed as soon as the child had left. ‘Why are you doing this? And if you don’t remove your hand now I shall get up and leave! I mean it, Buzz.’

Chuckling, he slid his hand off her leg and kissed his own fingers where they’d touched her.

‘Mmn! You didn’t complain last time, did you Sylvie? Not when I came to visit you in hospital?’

Her mouth dropped open and the warm theatre spun crazily around her. Her vision went black around the edges and there was a fizzing noise in her ears. Buzz gently leaned her forward to bring her head down and she felt the blood rushing back. Sylvie struggled to sit up and remove his hands from her shoulders. She turned to face him, still white with shock.

‘Was that real?’ she whispered in horror. ‘I thought it was a dream.’

‘Oh yes, Sylvie, it was very real. I relive it every single night as I lie in bed with my wife, wishing that it were you and not her beside me. It was real alright – I remember the pattern on your nightdress, the restraints, the apricot-coloured roses by the bedside. I remember every single tiny detail. It was such a very … intimate experience.’

She blushed scarlet and hung her head in misery. She felt horribly sick and couldn’t believe this was really happening. How on earth had he known they’d be here in this theatre and in these very seats? She looked over towards the aisle suddenly remembering her daughter whom she should be looking after, not neglecting because of this unwelcome ghost from the past.

‘Celandine’s fine. Look, she’s coming back now with the icecreams. What a dear little girl she is.’

‘Please, please leave, Buzz. This is meant to be her special treat and you’re ruining it.’

‘Hardly! She’ll only feel it’s ruined if you make a fuss and start complaining – that certainly would spoil it for her. So sit still and be quiet. You know you’re enjoying it really.’

Celandine nipped along the row, so pretty in her lemon coloured dress with her white-blond curls flowing down her back, and handed out the tubs of ice-cream. She gave Buzz the change, looking at it in bemusement.

‘I gave the lady the note for the ice-creams and she said I must take these as well, so here you are. Thank you very much. I’ve never had an ice-cream like this before. Only the frozen juice-lollies we have in the summer when it’s hot. I love these little cups and these tiny spoons tucked into the lids. Can we take the spoons home, Mum? Bluebell would love them. Isn’t this wonderful? Oh!’

She tasted the cherry and vanilla ice-cream and closed her eyes in ecstasy, her excited chatter silenced for a moment.

‘You’re not eating yours, Mum. It’s lovely! Do try some.’

‘I’m not hungry, Celandine. You can have mine if you like. Sit down, now – the second act’s about to start.’

‘Not leaving then?’ asked Buzz, his pale blue eyes gleaming.

‘Of course we’re not leaving!’ retorted Celandine. ‘There are still two more acts, Mum said, and I wouldn’t leave for the world. This is the best thing I’ve ever done in my whole life!’

Buzz’s lips stretched into a broad smile.

‘One of my best things too,’ he said smoothly, his hand sliding across as the lights dimmed.

Sylvie spent the night on the alien hotel bed in sleepless despair. Next to her Celandine slept soundly, exhausted from the multitude of new experiences she’d had that day, and Sylvie tried hard to keep her crying silent and still. Eventually she got up and sat by the window looking out over the city, wishing she’d never come here. Imagine if she’d come with Yul! She shook her head at the thought; the two men would’ve been at each other’s throats within minutes, the thin veneer of civilisation dissolved by their long-standing mutual hatred. The ordeal she’d endured in the theatre, keeping quiet for the sake of her daughter who’d have been devastated to miss the ballet, was horrendous and sickening and she felt ashamed of herself for not putting a stop to it. Why had she let him do that?

But worse still – far worse – was the knowledge that her terrible dream was actually a memory. Buzz really had come into the nursing home and assaulted her whilst she lay drugged up to the eyeballs and strapped to her bed. How had it been allowed to happen? Had he talked his way in or maybe even bribed someone? And tonight – how had he known which seats they’d have? Or that they’d be there at all? And the hotel – how had Buzz known about that? For he’d deftly found them a taxi after the performance and told the driver where to take them.

It suddenly occurred to her – the bouquet must be from him too! She grabbed the card and re-read it in the orange sodium light glaring into the room, shuddering at the true meaning the message carried. And then she started thinking of all the implications of what had happened, both tonight and four years ago in her private hospital room. After all these years Buzz was still bent on revenge for his banishment. And somebody at Stonewylde, somebody who knew her well, had been feeding him with the details to do it. Somebody whose intent was absolutely malicious. The thought made her blood run cold.

On the train home the next day Sylvie sat silently staring out as the heathland of east Dorset turned to the hills of the west, the landscape changing gradually but dramatically. She’d been unable to eat the delicious buffet breakfast that Celandine had devoured so enthusiastically and was now feeling sick and exhausted. Her daughter chattered non-stop, reliving the whole experience – the shops, her new shoes, the hotel and meals, and most of all, the ballet. Sylvie realised she was fighting with a decision and, much as she hated it, would have to ask Celandine to lie. She’d toyed with the idea of telling Yul everything but knew he’d explode with rage and probably do something rash and dangerous.

‘Darling, I know we don’t normally keep secrets from each other in the family but I’m going to ask you to be very grown up and understand something important.’

Celandine fixed her with an intent stare, her eyes as deep grey as her father’s and just as intelligent.

‘It’s about that man in the theatre, isn’t it?’

‘Yes! How did you know?’

‘You didn’t like him even though he was very polite and kind. I didn’t realise at first as I was watching the ballet. But you wouldn’t look at him and you were all stiff and quiet.’

‘That’s right and I didn’t like him being there but I couldn’t make a fuss in front of all those people and spoil the ballet. You see, he used to live at Stonewylde a long time ago, when Father and I were still young like Auntie Leveret is now. He and your father really hated each other and had a terrible fight. Magus, the man in charge at the time, banished him from Stonewylde. And that man has never forgiven your father and still blames him for it. So if Father knew he was there last night he’d be so, so cross I don’t know what he’d do.’

‘We don’t want him any crosser than he already is, do we?’ said Celandine. ‘He’s bad enough now, always grumpy and he doesn’t even sleep in our rooms any more. Does he still love us, Mum?’

‘Oh yes darling. But he’s not very happy at the moment. So please don’t mention anything about that man when we get back. I hate asking you to not tell the truth but I don’t want your father to be angry and upset.’

‘That’s fine, Mum. I understand and I won’t say anything at all about him. What’s his name anyway?’

‘Buzz, short for Buzzard.’

‘I’ve never actually liked buzzards much – they’re predators, you know.’

T
here was something wrong at the heart of Stonewylde, and like a malignant disease it pervaded everything around it. Everyone felt it growing and spreading, touching their lives in one way or another. Like a canker it was invisible to the eye, impossible to isolate and cure, but growing all the time and tainting everything with its poison.

As the Council of Elders sat in their circle, the discontent spilled out.

‘I’ve never before encountered such rudeness and restlessness amongst the students,’ said Miranda irritably. ‘It’s appalling the way they’re behaving and it reminds me of the school where I taught in London. There’s so little respect or deference towards adults and I really don’t like it.’

‘I warned everyone about this,’ said Martin. ‘I said if we let in all them Outside folk there’ll only be trouble. They led our youngsters astray with their wild clothes and coarse dancing. I seen them myself and—’

‘I seem to recall your son Swift enjoyed it as much as the next one,’ snapped Yul. ‘I don’t think we can blame the poor behaviour at school on one small party, surely?’

‘No, I don’t think it’s that either,’ said Dawn. ‘We’ve had problems in the Village School too – fighting and aggression on an unprecedented scale. The children are so defiant! Thanks for sorting out those boys I had to send up the other day, Miranda. I’ve never had to do that before.’

‘No problem,’ she smiled. ‘Thank Tom, not me! He had them mucking out the stables all afternoon – that cured their cheekiness.’

‘Aye,’ Tom growled. ‘Cocky little buggers the pair o’ them. Would’ve had the strap in the old days, but …’

His voice tailed off as he glanced guiltily at Yul.

‘Things haven’t been too good in the Nursery either, have they, Rowan?’ said Sylvie quickly. ‘That awful chesty cold and cough that’s been going around?’

Rowan nodded but failed to offer any more information.

‘It’s a nasty bug,’ agreed Hazel. ‘So many of the little ones are poorly with it. We don’t normally keep them indoors whatever the weather, but with the high temperatures they’ve been experiencing I’ve had to advise mothers to keep them at home in their beds. I’ve got a whole ward full of older Stonewylders in the hospital wing, all with this dreadful chest infection. I really think the idea of re-homing some of our frailer folk in the Hall would be worth pursuing.’

Yul nodded at this.

‘Hazel, maybe you and Martin can look into how we might organise this? Martin, you need to look at which rooms could be available for use and Hazel – you and Martin can then discuss what sort of renovations or changes would be needed to make the accommodation suitable for the elderly. Can I leave that with you two initially, and then bring me your report?’

Martin muttered under his breath and Yul’s cheeks flushed.

‘Sorry, Martin – did you say something?’

‘’Tis just I don’t have time to be worrying about rooms for the old folk,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m too busy as it is.’

‘I could get together with Hazel and—’

‘No thank you, Sylvie – it needs to be someone who’s involved with the accommodation and who knows all the issues. Cherry, maybe you could help?’

‘Aye,’ she nodded, ‘I’ll lend a hand but truth be told I’m rushed off my feet too. What you all been saying about the youngsters’ rudeness – I’m feeling it too. None o’ the work’s done proper no more, not to my standards. But when I tell ’em off or point it out – phew, you should just hear the back-chat I get and the looks they give me!’

‘I were only saying this the other day,’ said Martin, shaking his silver head. ‘No training – how can you expect youngsters like that to do a proper job? There’s no discipline and no standards and I don’t like it! In the old days we—’

‘I’m sure things’ll improve when the weather gets warmer,’ said Sylvie. ‘It’s the Wolf Moon tomorrow night and then only a couple more weeks to Imbolc. It always feels brighter somehow after Imbolc.’

‘Aye,’ said Maizie, ‘the birds know that spring’s on its way after Imbolc. Let’s hope our young folk buck up their ideas too. But I need to talk about the Village now.’

Yul sighed heavily, not liking to stop his own mother from speaking but wondering for the hundredth time why they even bothered with a formal agenda when everyone ignored it.

‘If it’s about the quotas —’ Martin began ominously and Maizie nodded vigorously at this.

‘’Tis about the quotas, right enough. I’m sorry to speak out about this, Yul, because I understand what was said at Samhain about Stonewylde needing to sell things to make money. But it’s gone too far.’