Third Solstice CALIBRE with cover (8 page)

He went. He was good at parting crowds without disturbing them. Even out of uniform, when he pushed, people moved. He accepted the circular current, spiralled in through it and joined Lee with a gasp of relief. “There you are. Are you both all right?”

“Fine. Just walk with us, okay? Don’t say anything.”

“About what?”

Lee made the smallest gesture. “That.”

In the centre of the circle, fire was floating in mid-air. Gideon’s eyes were sore and stinging with smoke. He blinked and focussed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “Keep walking,” Lee said softly, an edge of warning in his voice. “They think it’s the Candle Dance.”

“Doesn’t that happen later, with the Montol ’Oss?”

“Yep.”

“And... what is it really?”

“It’s Tamsyn.”

Nobody was looking at her. She was doing nothing to draw attention to herself, sitting crooning in Lee’s arms. Only her hands were busy, pushing and shaping the air. She was making a pattern. Gideon recognised it—the Christmas-tree ornament she liked best, the sphere with its array of little lights. Saul Priddy had worked his way to the front row. He gave a faint squawk as his torch went out, the fire lifting from its head and floating to join the others in the sphere. A look of wondering innocence overcame him, a face Gideon doubted even his mother had seen. “I have to nick that lad.”

“I know. Not yet.”

No. It was very important that Gideon didn’t disturb any aspect of this. He noticed that people were pacing in pairs to the beat of the crowdy-crawn drums, so he tucked his arm through Lee’s, shivering in pleasure as Lee drew him close. “I see why you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I knew you’d be worried. I’m sorry. A group of kids were trying to set fire to a boat down here, and she just... took their torches from them and started doing this. And everyone came drifting down to watch.”

“Why aren’t they freaking out?”

“Don’t know. They’ve seen Derren Brown, I suppose. Maybe they think it’s all done with mirrors.”

Whatever they thought, they were peaceful. Gideon had never been part of a crowd so united, so surrendered to its central focus. No-one who came here could be harbouring thoughts of destruction, and half Penzance was down on the quayside now, swirling slowly around the sphere of fire. Tamsyn was making it big enough for all of them to see, stealing light after light from the torches and setting them in her display. Her face was rapt, the dark curls escaping from under her woolly hat dancing in the breeze. Lee held her more closely. “What are we going to do with her, Gid?”

His eyes were full of tears. Gideon tightened his grip on his arm. “Everyone’s becoming what they should be. She will, too—whatever she has to be, sweetheart, no matter what you and I think about it.”

The pattern was done. The sphere stopped its rotation. All the people gathered round came to a gentle halt as well, and a ripple of laughter and applause rose up, praise for the unseen magician who’d arranged this new Montol delight. Gideon lifted Tamsyn carefully out of Lee’s arms. “Give me that heavy kid,” he said, smiling. He was father to the child. Whatever she became, he had to guide her. He kissed her, and she gave her usual squawk of delight at the sight of him. “Tamsyn. Put the fire in the water. Can you manage that?”

The words on their own were no good. The places she tugged in his head were tough fibres, strong ropes of love. He could tug back without hurting her. Holding her lambent gaze, he showed her what he wanted—like any father, told her what to do.

The sphere shot into the air. She gave it one last spin for the hell of it, and then effortlessly fired the whole structure off like a meteor shower, far out into the waters of Mount’s Bay.

***

Gideon steered his family back towards the car. He met DI Lawrence outside the police station, and paused by her patrol car long enough to get signed off duty for the night. He sidestepped her questions as best he could. She looked dazed, clearly unable to believe how the town she’d been supervising had exploded under her hands, or how eerily it had calmed down afterwards. The fires were out, Saul Priddy and his gang rounded up, the Montol celebrations continuing as if nothing had happened. An officer had been dispatched to the Gwidder Hill to check for any signs of Jana Ragwen, and had reported the warehouse empty. Lawrence thanked Gideon for his services, wished Tamsyn a happy birthday, and motioned to her sergeant to drive her on.

Tamsyn’s head was drooping on Gideon’s shoulder. Lee rearranged her scarf to keep out the cold night wind, then took off his own and gave it to Gideon. “Well,” he said, drawing them both into an embrace. “You’d be sleepy too, if you’d had to stop a riot.” He paused, and Gideon felt the indescribable shimmer of contact renewed. “Oh, wait. You did.”

“Not really. Just a scuffle or two.”

“Bollocks. You came down off the hill, and Chybucca Square was on fire. Kids everywhere chucking torches, and... a burning man. Oh—your poor hand.”

Gideon had forgotten. Lee detached his grip on Tamsyn and opened out his palm in the streetlight. They both stared at the mark of the photographer’s door handle seared into his skin. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“It’s not. It really hurts.”

“Get out of my head, then you won’t feel it, will you?”

“Come on. A&E.”

“Ah, no. We’ll be in there all night while they patch up everyone’s bumps and scrapes. Just get me home, and I’ll let you play doctor there.”

Lee’s eyes met his with a promise that no night was too long or weird for mischief. “Really?”

“Yes, you kinky sod.” Gideon leaned over their sleeping daughter’s head and kissed him. “Man, I was worried about you. Look, she’s out cold. Don’t suppose we could tuck her into her baby seat and grab a quickie in the—”

“In the police car park?” Lee pushed him back, snorting with laughter. “I tell you what, big man—I’ll actually consider it, if you can tell me you’ve phoned your bloody brother.”

“Shit.” Gideon put a hand to his mouth. Then he checked that Tamsyn was really asleep, and let rip. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. I forgot all about him.”

“Do it now. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s really important. Far more of a big deal than whatever he was upset about before.”

Gideon took out his phone. He’d forgotten about Zeke, but Zeke hadn’t forgotten him. He’d phoned five times and sent eight texts. Gingerly Gideon opened the most recent. He read it, his mouth going dry. His blood seemed to recede from the surface of his skin. He reached blindly for Lee, who took hold of him anxiously in return, warming him, steadying. “Oh God, Lee. It’s Ma.”

Chapter Seven

Trelowarren hospital was a maze of mid-century corridors and modern add-on blocks. Gideon knew two routes through it so well that Lee had to grab his arm and redirect him twice, as shock and muscle memory tried to send him first towards the physiotherapy centre and then the maternity wing.

At last they found the lift that would take them to the ICU. Lee pressed the button and they stood in breathless silence, listening to the clunk and grind of cables in the shaft. Gideon brushed a strand of hair back from his daughter’s sleeping face. She was blissfully out cold, snoring faintly in her sling around Lee’s shoulders. “It’s a year ago to the day that we were last here, Lee. To the day.”

“I know.” The lift doors opened and Lee ushered him inside. “To see this one being born.”

“Is this what the old woman meant by the solstice door? One year someone comes in through it, and the next, someone goes...”

His voice cracked. Lee took his hand. “I don’t know what she meant, okay? That’s why this is so damn frustrating. Another reason why I don’t want Tamsyn growing up like me. I didn’t feel any of this coming on—just that you should call your brother. I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your responsibility to feel things coming on. And if you think about it, if I’d just bloody
listened
to you about calling my brother...”

“Don’t.”

“I’ll be lucky if he ever speaks to me again.”

“Zeke’s a good guy. He’ll understand.”

The lift jolted to a stop, depositing them straight into the ICU reception. Ezekiel was waiting, bolt upright, in a chair directly opposite the doors. He got up stiffly and stood glaring at Gideon. “You bastard,” he said icily. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Gideon was all out of excuses. He spread his hands helplessly. “Because I’m a complete dick.”

“He’s not,” Lee interposed. “He was on duty in Penzance. A riot broke out and he stopped it.”

The wintry gaze settled on Lee. “You’d defend him if he turned out to be the damned Beast of Bodmin himself, wouldn’t you?”

“Probably, but—”

“Be quiet, both of you. Gideon, our mother had a fall in her room at Roselands. She banged her head, and she hasn’t regained consciousness since. She’s in intensive care because she won’t wake up, and nobody knows why.”

“Oh, Zeke.” Gideon took a step towards him.

“Stay there, please. I want you to know something. Matthew Hopkins was a sadist and a brute, well paid to hound innocent girls and women to death on trumped-up charges of witchcraft.”

“Er... yes.” Gideon had no idea why this had come up now. “So...”

“How could you call me by that name?”

He had, hadn’t he? Memories of his last conversation with his brother leapt up like lurid flames. “I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “Truly I am. But—Zeke, Ma’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

“They don’t know. She’s having a brain scan now. They say they need her to come round soon, or... or she’ll lose too much ground.”

A single tear, unlikely as a violet on the wall of a glacier, fell down Ezekiel’s face. It splashed onto the front of his anorak, and he and Gideon stared at it as if neither of them could work out where it had come from. Lee gave Gideon a little shove, recalling him to life and humanity. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, strode over to his brother and seized him in his arms.

Ezekiel broke into noisy sobs. Clutching him, Gideon conveyed over his shoulder to Lee his absolute astonishment, then helped him back to the row of seats against the far wall. “Zeke, I’m here now. I’m so, so sorry you had all that to deal with on your own.”

“I can’t lose her!” Ezekiel grabbed the tissue Lee was cautiously holding out, buried his face in it and blew his nose explosively. “I can’t, and—nor can you, Gideon. You were estranged from her for so many years, but now you have her back, and she thinks it’s the best thing in the world to have a gay son...” He paused for breath, then added, fervently, “Damn you. You’re gay, ten years younger than I am, and you
still
gave her grandchild before... before...”

Gideon swallowed down his own rising tide of grief. He tightened his arm around Zeke’s waist. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll give her dozens once you and Eleanor get married, I bet.”

Something in the words brought Zeke’s tears to a stop. He sat up a little, shivering. Lee took a seat on his other side, his mouth quirking up in an expression Gideon knew well: surmise and amusement, a forbidden smile.”Would you like a hold of Tamsie, Zeke?”

“I would. I should just stop asking myself how you know things, shouldn’t I?”

“Maybe. Here you go.”

Lee unfastened the harness and handed the sleeping child over wholesale, still tucked into her sling. Zeke took awkward, tender hold of her. “I said some bad things about you, little girl. You won’t remember or hold them against me, and I hope... I hope your parents won’t, either.”

“They won’t,” Lee said firmly. “Will we, Gid?”

Gideon cleared his throat. “If you can forget Matthew Hopkins, I guess we can overlook the whole
devil’s work
thing. Maybe even the
demon
child
, though—”

“Gideon!” Lee fetched him a cuff behind Zeke’s back. But the reprimand lacked conviction, and a moment later he asked, with careful sobriety, “Where’s your Eleanor tonight, Zeke? I’d have thought wild horses wouldn’t keep her away.”

Zeke nodded, settling Tamsyn in his arms. For some reason Lee’s question had raised painful colour in his cheeks. “Eleanor loves Ma. I haven’t told her this has happened. I didn’t want to give her a shock, not in...”

A brief silence fell. Gideon broke it, irrepressible laughter shaking his voice. “In her
condition
? Are you
kidding
me?”

“It was why I came to see you this morning. For some unknowable reason, I thought you might be sympathetic.”

Gideon bounced to his feet. This was too bloody much, this was, after years of moral high ground and
holier-than-thou
. He strode to the end of the little waiting room and back. Its confines felt too small to contain his reaction: he wanted to run and shout. “Eleanor’s
pregnant
?”

“Yes. She only just told me. She hasn’t even had a scan. Enjoy yourself, Gideon, but remember what this means to me. I’ve proved myself a hypocrite to my congregation. I may have to give up my ministry.”

His words fell harmlessly as spent arrows, deprived of momentum and meaning. Gideon could scarcely hear him. The entire situation was too beautiful—the ultimate levelling of the mountainous playing field between them, and best of all a perfect excuse not to think about what was happening in the ICU ward beyond the glass doors. He took another turn of the waiting room, stopped and folded his arms. “Wow, Ezekiel. Devil’s work indeed.”

But a white-coated figure had appeared through the glass. Lee, who could read the tiniest shift in his expression as well as his mind, got up and came to stand beside him. Gideon held out a hand to Zeke: steadied him as he lurched upright with the baby. The three were shoulder-to-shoulder when the glass doors swished apart.

The doctor’s name was Pearce. Hers had been the third face Gideon had registered upon emerging from his coma on this very same ICU ward, and she’d become painfully familiar to him during the days and weeks that had followed. He’d wiped out the memory of her afterwards, just as he’d set aside all other recall of his brush with death. Was it better or worse that she was here now? She was tough as nails, but very good at what she did. If anyone could restore his mother to life... “How is she?” he asked, because although Zeke was the eldest and a minister, the nominal head of the family now that their father was gone, he was speechless with terror and grief. “Is there any change?”