Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) (4 page)

"That's very kind of you, but I'm sure you'd rather not spend your time off talking about work."

As she spoke, she waved her hand toward the helmet. He noticed how small her hands were, the fluid movement of them.

"It's not really work. I guess you could call it a passion, some might say obsession. I'm giving a talk to the historical society there tonight anyway. You could keep my mind off having to talk in front of a room full of people, so you'd actually be doing me a favour, really."

He could see the indecision on her face and couldn't blame her, since she had no idea who he was. Sticking his hand out, he said, "I'm Matthew, by the way. Matt to my friends."

Slowly, she grasped his hand. Hers felt cold against his, which was clammy.

"Hi, I'm Emma. I'd love to know more about the helmet and, well, if you're sure I'll be doing you a favour ..."

"Absolutely. Just let me grab my things and I'll meet you outside."

He broke out in a smile as he raced upstairs. "Miriam? Miriam, can you close up for me?"

Miriam looked up from the paperwork on her desk and grinned. "Sure. Has it got anything to do with that huge grin on your face?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said, trying to tone down the smile.

"Mmhmm. Tell you what, you buy the coffees in the morning and you can tell me all about it."

"Sure, coffees are on me. See you tomorrow."

Racing back downstairs, he gathered his assignments, shoving them into his satchel. Taking a deep breath, he took them back out and carefully piled them together. He needed to calm down or she would think he was some kind of a nutter. He placed them back into his satchel, slowly lowering the flap and fastening the buckles in place. He drummed his fingers against the top of the desk as he waited for the computer to log him out. Casting a quick glance out the window, he could see her watching the river. As the monitor went black, he put his jacket on and picked up his satchel. Slowly, he walked out of the museum. The previous week's feeling of being unsettled was still there, only it felt more like a good unsettled.
 

Emma sat in a corner booth and watched Matt make his way to the bar. A quick wave to a man in the corner, a few words for a woman passing by, a laugh and a backslap from a man at the end of the bar. He certainly looked at home here, definitely not nervous about having to give a talk. She saw him laughing easily with the pretty, blonde barmaid and smiled. Looking around the pub for the first time, she took it all in. She could smell the alcohol, years of it probably soaked into the carpet, and a faint whiff of grilling meats. The decor was old-fashioned and a little worn. Wooden furniture showed years of use in their deep grooves and scars. It was busier than she had expected for a Monday night. Snippets of different conversations floated toward her, merging into one incoherent murmur. And then Matt was back, smiling at her like he'd known her for years rather than almost an hour.

"Thanks," she said as he set a drink down for her.

"You're welcome. So, how long have you been living in the village?"

"I moved here in September, so almost a month. What about you?"

"Born and bred. So I know how this village thrives on gossip, yet I haven't heard a thing about you. How have you managed to stay under their radar?"

Mmm, how was she supposed to answer that without sounding like a lonely recluse? "Well, I've not had much chance to meet anybody yet. What with moving in, starting a new job, and my mum being ill, it's been a bit hectic."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mum. Does she live nearby?"

"Yeah, my parents live in Stydon, so they're only down the road."

"Oh, so you're not new to the area?"

"No. I was born in Stydon. I've never lived in Altenchester before, but I had friends from here."

He heard the past tense she'd used and saw the sad look that flicked across her face. Maybe she didn't want to talk about her family; he could understand that. Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he tried a change in topic.

"So, I noticed your interest in the helmet. Anything in particular you want to know about it?" He saw that half-smile again and relaxed.

"How about everything you know about it?"

He let out a short, deep laugh. "That might take a while."

"Okay, how about the edited version so you don't miss your talk and I can get back before my dog destroys the house."

"You have a dog?"

Her eyebrows drew together over her narrowed eyes. "Yes. Why do you sound so surprised by that?"

"Erm, I don't know. I mean, why wouldn't you have a dog? Okay, so, the helmet."

He sounded flustered, but she couldn't understand why. Surely, the fact that she had a dog wouldn't cause that kind of reaction, would it? She shook her head because it didn't really matter; she only came to find out about the helmet, not him.

"Was the helmet found around here? I assume it's Roman?"

"Yes to both. It is Roman and was found by the riverbank, near the church. It was with quite a few other Roman artefacts. They're all on display in the museum. If you come back tomorrow, I'd be happy to show you."

Her excitement dropped when he mentioned the church. She'd been hoping it had been found where her vision was. At least it would make sense why her dream had taken place there. After his explanation, she was just as confused as ever, but with more questions than answers.

"Emma? You okay?"

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just drifted off back in time for a moment. Do you know who the helmet might have belonged to? I mean, who would have worn it? It doesn't seem like it would be very practical to wear in battle," Emma said as she remembered how heavy the helmet looked. It would have covered a person's whole face.

"No, you're right. The helmet would have been worn by high-ranking soldiers during cavalry tournaments to make a show of their expertise."

Maybe the last soldier to wear it had some connection to where she'd seen it in the fields. Maybe he'd died there? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. The noise of a crowd entering the pub drew her thoughts back. Glancing at her watch, she realised she'd been out longer than she had planned.

"You have to go?"

"Yes, Barney's been on his own for quite a while now. I really appreciate you telling me about the helmet, and the drink."

"Any time. And I meant it, my offer. If you come back to the museum tomorrow, I'll show you the rest of the items found with helmet. In fact, I think someone gave a talk about the helmet at the historical society. I'll see if I can dig up a copy of that for you, too."

"Thanks, and I hope tonight goes well for you."

Matt stood as she left and watched her go. He noticed he wasn't the only one whose attention she caught. He wondered if he'd see her the following day. Strangely, he found himself hoping he would. He was sure it was just the novelty factor of her not knowing who he was. Well, that and she was pretty easy on the eyes.
 

He finished the rest of his drink and turned toward the bar. What was he doing? She might not come back to the museum, and he had no way of seeing her again. Slamming his glass back on the table, he headed for the door and after her. He told himself it was because of the dream. But even if he hadn't thought it might be her, he'd have followed her anyway. Running to catch up with her, she turned as she heard him.

"Matt? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. I just realised I should walk you home."

She laughed as she shook her head. "I think I can manage to find my way home, but thanks."

"I'm sure you can, but I brought you to the pub, so the least I can do is walk you home," he said as he fell in step beside her.

She turned down Green Street and glanced at him. He looked like a cross between a country gentlemen and a professor in some stuffy old university. He was attractive in a geeky kind of way. Not her type, though. No, her type wouldn't offer to walk her home when he barely knew her.

"So, you never told me what you will be talking about tonight."

"Oh, it's about William Altenbury, and how he built Altenbury Hall. It's the–“

"Huge, old house out by the fields where I walk Barney. It looks beautiful. I imagine it's even more beautiful inside. Do you know the Altenburys?"

"You could say that."

"I mean, everybody's
heard
of the Altenburys, since they're like royalty in this village, but I've never met them."

"I think royalty is a bit of an exaggeration," he said as she stopped walking. "You live here?"

"Yes. You seem surprised, again."

"This was my gran's cottage, that's all."

"Oh. Wait, does that mean you're my landlord then?"

"No, not really. The house is held in trust. Don't you know who your landlord is?"

"Erm, technically, no. My dad sorted the house rental out for me." She turned as she heard scratching against the front door. "I better go before he does some damage. After all, I don't want to get on the wrong side of my landlord."

"Good night, Emma."

"Good night ... and thanks for walking me home."

He waited until she went inside then walked slowly back to the pub. Of course, she knew who the Altenburys were; everyone around here did. She just didn't know that he was one. Would it make a difference to her? He hoped not. He tried hard not to be like his parents, didn't really consider himself an Altenbury in any way, except by name.

Barney settled into his bed as Emma put her cup into the sink, looking out over the partially lit back garden where the light spilled out from the kitchen window. The branches of the trees were sparse and the few remaining leaves were already turning yellow in the autumn coolness October had brought. The lack of leaves reminded her of the lack of friends she still had. She hadn't got around to looking up any of her old friends from Stydon or high school. Her neighbours, while nice, were elderly, and she didn't have much in common with them.
 

That left her with her family. She had been avoiding her sister and, if she was honest, putting off going back to see her parents. The thought of winter's imminent coldness made her feel melancholy and had her turning from the window. No cosy nights in for two, snuggled up on the sofa with the cold, harsh world shut out behind the curtains.
Well, I have Barney, at least,
she thought as she switched off the kitchen light.
 

As she headed to the stairs, her thoughts turned to Matt. She had seen him a few times around the village briefly since the night he had walked her home the week before. It had been sweet, and she smiled at the memory.
He seemed nice. Maybe I should ask him out for a drink.
Or maybe they could have dinner. That's what friends did, and that was what she wanted them to be.
I’ll go to the museum tomorrow and ask him.
Decision made, she felt better as she climbed into bed, absently wondering if he had a girlfriend. Snuggled under the duvet, she was enveloped by the smell of freshly washed sheets and lavender and had no trouble falling asleep.
 

***

Fire. She could smell fire, burning wood. As she turned from the river, she could make out a stone wall with flames licking over the top of it, could feel their heat. Then the screams started–people running in panic, trampling over others in their haste to escape. She could hear their shouts, loud and high-pitched. But none of the words made any sense to her, not even the man who screamed in her face before he ran off.
 

The flames drew her in. She couldn't move, found herself hypnotised by them. Sparks drifted off them, carried by the breeze, and as they began to fall, they changed. As she looked closer, she saw they weren't sparks anymore but poppies. Hundreds and hundreds of poppies falling from the dark sky. They surrounded her, flowing down to the river. She followed them to the riverbank, where the water was a ribbon of red as more poppies floated past her.
 

She bent down to pick one up but it disintegrated in her hands, leaving them wet and dripping water. As she looked up, she saw the outline of a man moving towards her. The poppies disappeared as he made his way through them. She couldn't see him clearly, but he reminded her of someone. Tilting her head, she squinted and studied him. Did she know him? As he drew closer, his hand reached out toward her and she heard herself scream.

***

She screamed again, but all she could see was darkness. Then she heard the creak of the stairs and tensed until Barney landed on the bed, licking her face. She shivered as she remembered the dream, shuddering when she saw in her hand a single white rose. Where the hell had that come from? She remembered the look on the man's face and wondered why she had screamed. He didn't seem like he was going to hurt her. Had he given her the rose?
 

Pushing the duvet back, she realised it was wet, as were her pyjamas.
Well, wet's better than mud
, she thought and laughed; it held an edge of hysteria that she didn't like but didn't know how to do anything about. Pulling on dry pyjamas and thick socks, she made her way down to the kitchen. Pouring milk and cocoa into a cup, she placed it into the microwave, watching the cup revolve.
So much for October being vision-free.
 

Sitting at the dining table, cradling her cup to warm her, Emma went through the visions. The first one had led her to the museum. This one had her by the river with fire, poppies, and a rose. But her first dream had made no sense until she had seen the helmet. Maybe this dream was about the man in the poppy river? She needed to know who he was. Why had she screamed at him?

Thoughts of the previous night's vision had consumed Emma. She had barely managed to submit her photos to the office by her deadline and she was late back from her walk with Barney. She had spent far too long at the river and found nothing. Not that she had expected to find anything, of course.
 

She turned the oven off, even though the casserole was probably ruined by that point. Pulling the pot out of the oven, she lifted the lid. A mist of steam hit her, followed by the smell of beef and mushrooms. Well, it smelled good; hopefully, it would still taste as good.