The Moon Spun Round (17 page)

S
ALLY SLEPT THE DAY AWAY
, not waking until the sky turned purple, then indigo. By then she was ready for a shower and supper, but first she checked the answerphone. She had switched the ring-tone off in the bedroom and was concerned that she might have slept through Naomi’s call. There were a few business queries, and Fran asking about some prizes for the bazaar raffle. No Naomi. Ruth probably hadn’t had time to talk to her until after the shop closed; perhaps she would ring later. So Sally set about feeding herself and Cat, who was rather put out by this change in routine. Eventually they both settled down in front of the television, Sally with her glass of wine. There was still time for Naomi to call. When they had first suggested her talking to Naomi, Sally had felt a slight reluctance which grew as she came down to earth. Now she feels more than a little foolish about the whole business. I’m being hysterical, she thinks, and allowing that bunch of weirdos to encourage me.

Only that’s not entirely true, is it? Those things
did
happen, and in any case those weirdos are her friends, aren’t they? More than that: they’re family. No, that’s ridiculous. Abbie? Well, yes maybe, but she hardly knows the others. Yet Ruth is warm and caring and, despite the prophesying with tea leaves, far more down-to-earth than Sally’s own mother ever was. And Fran? Sally can’t help liking her: she’s like some batty old aunt. But, if she’s honest, she’s still slightly in awe of Naomi, who seems to radiate more of an aura than can be explained by her physical impact. Discussing advertising with her is one thing, but the thought of sharing her fears about this sudden bizarre behaviour makes Sally want to run a mile.

So, when the next morning comes around and Naomi still hasn’t contacted her, at first she is relieved. As the day wears on, however, she begins to wish the telephone would ring. And when it eventually does, and it’s not Naomi but a business contact, she begins to feel let down.

It’s now early evening. Sally has picked at a chicken omelette while listening to the news on the radio. She’s contemplating the washing-up when Cat, sound asleep until that moment, suddenly jumps down from the rocking chair, ears pricked forward, tail in the air, and runs to the front door.

‘What’s up, Puss? You expecting someone?’ There’s a sharp rapping. ‘Who the hell can that be?’ Aware of the darkness in the lane and her isolation, Sally slips on the safety chain, turns the catch and opens the door a crack.

‘Hi. It’s me. Naomi.’

‘Oh, come in, please. I was hoping to hear from you.’ Sally fumbles with the chain. ‘I’m sure I’m being silly, but it’s great to see you anyway.’

‘Well, actually I was wondering if you’d like to come out.’ Naomi is wrapped in her padded coat, gloves and a woollen hat pulled down over her ears, her glorious hair spilling over her shoulders. ‘I’ve been stuck in the workshop all day. My body needs some stretching and my brain could do with a beer. Do you fancy a walk to the pub?’

‘Sure, why not? Come in while I fetch a coat.’

Cat rubs herself against Naomi, who bends down to make a fuss of her.

‘You’ll need to wrap up warmly, there’s going to be a frost. It’s a fantastic evening—the sky’s so clear.’ When Sally returns she is amazed to find Cat cradled in Naomi’s arms, paws in the air and head thrown back in an ecstatic fit of purring.

There’s no pavement in Wicker Lane, so, to avoid the mud-filled car tracks, they walk in single file along the grass verge, following Naomi’s torch beam. Across the open fields the risen moon hangs above the motorway and keeps pace with them as they reach Abbie’s wall and turn the corner into the main street. The village seems deserted, the houses already huddled down for the night with their curtains pulled tight against the winter.

‘This is the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve walked to the village in the dark,’ says Sally. ‘You couldn’t do this in London. Well, the city centre is OK, of course, but walking alone through the back streets you’d be asking for trouble.’

‘It’s not totally safe here, either. Don’t get too complacent about rural life—
we have our own rogues and villains.’ Their footsteps ring on the paving stones. ‘Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. I’ve been in the middle of an urgent job.’

‘Oh, what have you been working on? Another new instrument?’

‘No, worse luck. Some idiot rang up in a right panic. He’s booked in at the recording studio next week to start on his latest album and his favourite guitar looked like it had been in a hit-and-run accident.’

‘Why, what had happened to it?’

‘He forgot he’d left it propped up in the boot of his car and slammed the door down on it. I had to drop everything to fix the damage. Been working non-stop for two days. I’ve a good mind to charge him double for the repair—might teach him to look after it properly.’

‘Recording studio? Someone famous then?’

‘I guess so. But more to the point, what have
you
been up to? Ruth says you’ve been having some unusual experiences. Something to do with the spring water and the moon?’

So Sally tells it all over again, and when she has finished Naomi asks, ‘And what did you feel afterwards?’

‘Well, cold, of course. Wet, muddy. No, that’s not true. I
was
muddy, but I felt strangely clean, as if I’d actually been immersed in the pool. I suppose I must have been a bit disorientated, though I was wide awake, almost a bit muzzy, but oddly clear-headed at the same time. I couldn’t settle. That’s why I went for a walk and met up with Abbie.’

‘And did you feel hungry?’

‘Starving. Usually I can’t face food in the morning, but I managed to polish off four slices of toast and this huge lump of cake. Then, suddenly, I was hit by exhaustion. I suppose it all caught up with me. I went home and slept until the early evening.’

‘And how do you feel now?

‘I feel fine. Bit bewildered, I suppose. Fran suggested I might be a witch. I’m not, am I?’

‘No, of course you’re not a witch. That only comes after an informed commitment and years of training. But you’re obviously very sensitive to the influence of the moon, and some part of you needs to respond to that. Perhaps you’re remembering stuff you never knew you knew.’

‘Arcane knowledge hidden deep within my psyche, you mean?’ Sally laughs.

Naomi stops abruptly and turns to her, fixing her with those dark eyes. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.’ Then she laughs, too. ‘Tell you what, we’re almost to the pub and I do fancy that beer. But the moon’s still only a day off full and
the sky’s clear. What say afterwards I walk back with you and we’ll go to the pool together?’

Stepping through the doors of the Green Man is like walking through a heat barrier. In addition to the central heating, a log pyre is blazing in an inglenook fireplace that takes up half of one wall. This is a typical old English pub—low ceiling, wooden beams, horse brass. It’s like those theme bars Sally is used to in the touristy parts of the city, only this one is for real. They find a small table in a quiet corner and strip off coats and scarves.

Naomi pulls off her hat and tosses her hair. ‘I’m starving. Haven’t eaten all day. Would you like something?’

‘No thanks, I’ve just had supper. But I could do with that drink. What will you have?’

‘No, my shout. Don’t mind if I order a sandwich, do you? Now, what do you drink? Denis keeps a good cellar and the tap beer’s excellent. I’m having a Greene King—it’s a local speciality.’

‘OK, I’ll join you.’

The man behind the bar, most likely Denis, greets Naomi by name. She gives their order, and while he pulls the pints she leans back against the counter, turning to look around the room. It’s still quite early and there are only a few customers as yet. A group of young people are playing pool, the girls giggling and hitching their skirts as they make their shots. Three young men are lounging at the other end of the bar, beer mugs in hand. They must have started drinking early as they already look a little frayed at the edges. All three turned to stare when Sally and Naomi came in and began whispering to each other. They watch Naomi as she goes up to the bar, then look from her to Sally. One of them nudges his mate with his elbow.

‘Evening, Naomi. Out on the razzle, eh?’ His voice is loaded with derision.

She flashes him a humourless grin and looks away.

‘Brought a new playmate with you, have you?’ The other two snigger into their glasses.

Denis immediately walks down to that end of the bar and leans across to them. It’s clear from his expression that he’s giving them a warning. The three lads sneer and turn their backs. Denis goes back to pouring the beer and taking Naomi’s order for a ham sandwich.

‘God, I needed that.’ Naomi takes another swig. They’re near enough to feel the heat from the fire and, in the dimly lit room, the flames light their faces as
the cracking wood spits showers of sparks into the air.

Sally takes a second sip of her beer and nods towards the group at the bar. ‘What was that all about?’

‘Oh, nothing much. No doubt you’ll be acquainted with the facts soon enough. Anyway, what do you think of the beer?’

‘You’re right, it’s good. Can I ask you, what brought you to Hallowfield? It seems a strange place to set up a business like yours.’

‘Well, I was looking for a home and somewhere to set up a workshop all in the one place. I’d been sharing a flat, and before that I lived with my grandmother. She sort of brought me up. When she died and left me some money I decided to go out on my own. I wanted to buy something outright but, with the price of property, London was out of the question. Besides, I felt an urge to get out of the city.’

‘You were working in London?’

‘Yes, I was lucky enough to be working for Max Bruger—he’s one of the leading luthiers in the world. He taught me so much, like a sort of apprenticeship I suppose. But I was ready to move on. And then when Manny died, that’s my grandmother, the time seemed right. Anyway, I started asking around the estate agents and found that Suffolk property prices were still way down low. This was ten years ago, of course; they’ve caught up a bit now. So, I started looking in this area and they sent me details of an empty shop. As soon as I saw the name of the village I was decided.’

‘What, you mean Hallowfield?’

‘Yes, Hallowfield. These old settlements got their names for a good reason. Hallow—hallowed—holy. As soon as I heard it, something went
ping
inside my head. And of course it was just what I wanted and at a price I could afford.’

‘So you think there is something significant about living here?’

‘Oh, of course. This place has a history. Think about your house, Sally. Stonewater Cottage? In Wicker Lane? Or more likely Wicca Lane? In a settlement called Holy Field? Oh, come on. Of course, your place wasn’t on the market then, and I didn’t know about the spring until after I got here.’

‘How do people find out about it?’

‘If you’re suitable, someone will tell you. Only certain people are told. Fran took me there the first time, and suddenly it all made sense. But even before that I knew I had to come here. It was almost as if I were being pushed into it. How about you? Did it feel as if it were all planned out for you?’

‘I don’t know about planned. But the first time I went into the cottage it was like I knew where everything was. Literally. I even knew what was in each room before I opened the door. I put it down to some sort of
déjà vu
experience. But straight away I knew I had to live there.’

‘Me, too. I belong here. So do you.’

‘Abbie said people are drawn here, women, and when they arrive it’s as if she knows them.’

‘Yes, I’ll go along with that. I feel a special bond with some of the spring users. There’s a small group of us who feel—well, as if we know each other.’

‘And they would be Fran, Ruth and Claire. You and Abbie. And perhaps me?’

‘You catch on fast.’

‘And I know what you mean about a bond between us. I’m starting to feel it, too. But I don’t know anything about any of you.’